Fallout Equestria: Storms of the Divide

by Canagan

Rating: mature
Tags: Crossover, Death, Narcotics, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Other, Fallout, Profanity, Adventure, Griffons, Violence
Length: 192655

Left homeless decades ago, Red Eagle, a griffon mercenary and wanderer, plies the only trade he knows across the frigid and blasted Northern Wastelands. His life becomes upended, however, when a certain job arises; one that changes him forever.

War...

War never changes.

People do, by the roads they walk, by the lives they live, by the friendships they make, the bonds they forge. In the time before, and now in the great desolate expanse.

The Wasteland.

One hundred years ago the world that was, was wiped clean of nearly all life as Balefire bombs and Megaspells were detonated. Those that survived the war had two choices, to survive, or become nothing more than just another time bleached skeleton that dots the landscape.

Red Eagle, a griffon wanderer and mercenary, chose survival at any cost. He wanders from one place to the next, chasing jobs for caps to survive, fighting and killing to see another sunrise, in the hopes that one day he can escape a dark past. Along the road a job crosses his path that at first seems mundane, but little did he know it would send his life into a torrential chaos that would change him forever.

Published 2019-04-02 23:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-04-29 14:56:26 UTC

Chapter 1: Forgotten Memories

Fallout Equestria: Storms of the Divide

War... War never changes...

In ancient Equestrian history; the Windigos sought to ensnare all ponies in an icy demise by feeding off their hatred and disharmony; figures like Nightmare Moon and Discord wished to press their tyrannical power upon the masses for their own diabolical reasons; King Sombra tried to reshape The Crystal Empire into a War-hungry superpower; and many others all but lost to history.

But War never changes, and equinity learned well from their aggressors.

In the final century of Equine dominance, what was a peaceful and harmonious people had delved into disarray, and they fought over the remaining resources that could be acquired. Oddly enough however, the spoils of War were also its weapons.

Coal and magical gemstones.

For these critical economic resources Equestria would invade Zebrica for coal its ponies required; Zebrica would face off against the quickly growing superpower of Equestria for the gems it needed for zebra survival; Equestria would even dissolve its own government -replacing a thousand years of standing traditions- and the world would break into the chaotic din of world-wide panic as sides were formed across the land between all creatures.

In the final decades of Equus, the storms of World War had come to an unprecedented boil, and in two brief hours most of Equus was reduced to cinders. From the magical radioactive ashes of megaspell destruction, a new civilization would struggle to arise.

In the early days, whatever survivors that had endured armageddon desired nothing but survival, yet in time some minds wandered to questions better suited for the old world. It mattered not, in their many questions, who shot first and for what reasons. The world was destroyed, gone and dead never to return; the spark of destruction struck by equine hooves. It is now, after one hundred years of hellish reward for their mistakes, that it seems remotely possible that ponies can claw their way back.

Only... ponies have learned all to well the malice and inequinity of their ancestors' enemies, made that power their own, and the crawl back to civilization is soaked in blood; especially that of other creatures.

*** *** ***

Fire.

Fire and blood filled the air, the stench of blazing carrion assaulted the senses of the body and mind, while aches and pains of a dozen wounds stung in the smoke choked air. The bodies of a hundred different creatures, ponies and griffons alike, each and every one caked in their own lifeblood and each other’s were harshly highlighted by pillars of orange beacons that billowed out into the black as pitch night sky.

A low drizzle burned the scrapes, cuts, and bullet holes in his broken body, and ever so slowly washed away the dried tears and blood from his feathers. Each and every breath labored, they sent pangs of agony through his entirety, as he looked about at the still and mangled forms of griffons, his eyes lingered as if in sorrowful remembrance, and upon the shredded ponies draped in steel armor with a dead, thudding, burned out hatred. The walls from buildings the flame’s light pulled into view were riddled in hundreds of holes, splatters of blood inched their way down the bricks to corpses below and shone with brilliance to the inferno’s dance.

His forelegs tightened around a body, a form in which his entire being trembled to touch, and he fought with every fiber of his being to stay fixed on the destruction around him, but no matter how much he fought he knew he would eventually. His breath, shallow and weak, hind legs collapsed below him from unbridled pain and his talons slick with blood and sweat, around the only thing that ever truly mattered to him. His eyes betrayed him and stole a glance, and as if in disbelief locked with her perfect, impossibly green eyes. Even death couldn’t steal the beauty in their otherworldly hues, and despite the empty skyward gaze he felt as if she would reach up and kiss him.

Lightning flashed in a cruel sharp note, and the light drowned out all colors and sounds in a single sickly green burst of energy. In that moment, the dearest love of his life was ashes in his arms, and all the bodies around him the same. Dust and cinders in the gust of wind became mud in a sudden flood of rain that drowned everything; the memories of life, the sounds and smells of burning flesh and wood, but not the pain.

He clawed at the ground where her ashes fell in desperate guttural sobs, as if trying to will her back to life if he could only gather the ashes back together again. It only mixed her remains with wet, viscous earth that rippled at his touch, and his tears mixed with her in the puddle that grew and grew until the reflection within seized his mind, eyes locked into the bloody and broken image.

Its black beak was chipped and torn in spots, claw marks having carved scars in it, and the navy blue colored feathers on its head and body almost dyed crimson were slowly cleansed by the storm as bloodied droplets poured from the features. Its eyes were bloodshot, swollen from rage and grief, and what was white in them were coated in blood that clung to the eyelids, all framing a set of deeply blue irises with a fresh disfiguring wound running down across the right eye from forehead to jaw.

The expression was empty, as if dead like the cinders that were once his friends and family around him. He didn’t know this griffon, which terrified him all the more beyond the brink of madness. He did the only thing he could do.

He screamed.

The shrill sound a mixture of rage, terror, anguish, and defeat clashed violently for supremacy from the tempest surrounding him. Images of that griffon rushed back, of it tearing ponies and foals apart with its talons in desperate slaughter; like an animal, it rent, tore, broke, and shattered dozens in a haze barely remembered. What terrified him more than anything?

It was him.

*** *** ***

Chapter 1: Forgotten Memories

A sharp and shallow breath broke the silence in the room; he was sitting up in bed, knife drawn and while his claw held it with a steady grip his body shook ever so subtly. The crisply cool, yet damp air hung like a blanket across the faintly lit room with scattered debris. The window was cracked open, and a slight breeze was caught in the molded and torn curtain, waving to and fro stirring some of the dust floating through the air illuminated by the pale, sickly light of a thrice filtered Sun.

The Griffon breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling even metered as his shakes slowed with every breath. He closed his eyes, grinding the knife’s grip in his talon’s palm, and slumped back into his bed. It was old, moldy, half destroyed by time and the slow decay of the elements, but regardless it served its purpose. Opening his eyes again after burying his nightmares he took a detailed account of his surroundings, and found that it was all where it was left. His pack was next to his bed, left open for quick access if needed.

His firearms were there as well. A well worn and surface rusted revolver built for griffons alongside a wide brimmed black hat sat next to him on the bedside table, and next to his pack in a similar condition laid his battle saddle. Within it was his trusty rifle, small perhaps, but powerful in its own right. The number of ponies, griffons, and zebra alike who fell to it alone proved its worth.

Beyond his possessions was a small, guttering campfire out in the middle of the room’s floor. The embers within clinging to life as the final sparks of flame died leaving crisp ashes within a circle of small rocks. Several half burnt to cinders books were inside the ring, black and grey with soot, along with tatters of fabric whose colors long since lost their hues. He breathed deeply once more, staring into the embers and sheathing his knife he sat up on his haunches as he stretched out the aches of resting after the long day on the road before. He flexed his grey claws, spread out his large navy blue wings along with his forelegs and with a low deep yawn popping several bones with sharp, hollow cracks of grinding cartilage in practically all his moving limbs.

Grimacing at first, he let out a mute sigh of relief followed by a scratching of his sweat matted feathers on his head that gleamed subtly in the gloom. For a while he simply sat there, staring into the fire pit before him, contemplating everything and nothing. He finally stood up from the bedside to all fours and made a lethargic pace, donning his pistol belt and grabbing a small rectangular worn canvas carry bag.

He unbuckled the straps and pulled out the old, slightly rusty reinforced case of a dark olive drab color with a worn but somewhat clean screen dominating a majority of the machine’s body. Three large dull red buttons lining the left side of the device with adjacent words indicating their function, and a domed analog stick and larger orange button above it flanked the screen’s right side. Above the top left corner was a plaque displaying a cartoonish pony smiling, a hoof extended outwards with the vibrant stylized letters of the device’s name.

PipBuck 2000a

With a practiced grace he flipped a switch on the top and the little arcanotech machine burst to life with the same insignia and text as the corner plaque had on the screen. The cartoonish pony in dull green light against an almost ebon-green screen appeared with her hooves placed above her haunches, lifting one in a rough animation and pointing it forward with a smile and wink of her eye. The name of the device below her disappeared along with her as lines of code began rolling and after several seconds the display flashed with a status screen.

Beside the screen three small glowing talismans roughly the shape of light bulbs, protected by a small and fine wire mesh grating, glowed with a subtle amber color. He felt an equally subtle, yet familiar sensation wash over him as the machine’s magical systems booted on, scanning him and keying its systems to him so the PipBuck’s medical and inventory spells could do their work.

When the feeling died down to a level he couldn’t sense anymore he saw a griffon icon in the middle of the screen; solid lines on each his limbs and one hundred percent indicators on each. Flexing his aching shoulder he felt as if it was trying to fool him into believing that. The status screen told him nothing he didn’t already know, so he pressed the button below ‘Status’ marked ‘Inventory’. More of the same. His clothes, knife, the three-fifty-seven magnum rounds for his pistol, the pistol itself, his silver locket-

Silver locket. His eyes lingered on those words, the entry always made it seem so... empty. Plain, unimportant even. His free talon reached up almost instinctively to hold its precious form as it hung around his neck by a length of fibrous cord. It was about the size of a large bottlecap with an oval shape, and had a simple, smooth surface of tarnished grey silver that gleamed slightly in the morning light. With a click of a small button on its side a faded picture was revealed inside it as it split open.

Her green eyes still mesmerized him after all those years...

After a moment’s reminiscing he closed the locket and stuffed it back into his shirt, closed his eyes for a time, and held up the PipBuck again and clicked the ‘Data’ button below ‘Inventory’. The data screen had several sub-directories, consisting of ‘Archives’, ‘Automaps’, ‘Radio’, and ‘Notes’; the Radio tab was grayed out indicating it wasn’t working, which was a shame.

He clicked the domed analog stick downwards and pushed the button above it on the automap tab, and the text entries changed to a large, pixilated image of Equestria filling the screen. The ebon green space was littered with dozens -if not a few hundred- of little green square markers that ranged across all the cardinal directions. A majority of them were in the south though, as the expanse he was in seemed empty for a great deal of those little square marks.

It centered on his location, and the machine had it named as ‘Whiney Fallons’’. Supposedly an old clothing store chain before the apocalypse, now nothing more than a dive among many for travelers to huddle in on their way to a quaint little up and coming town of ‘Good Neighbor’ to the east.

Good Neighbor, as he remembered, is about as average as your typical small town gets as far as history or amenities. Some group of ponies find some semi-intact destroyed buildings among totally destroyed ones, then put up boards and tape until they felt better about themselves, as well as planting crops -or tried to, rather- for their own survival. As time went on, they established enough of a populace to want trade with surrounding towns amongst the stubborn ponies who refused to pick one spot and settle as one large clump.

The trade itself was dry, mostly, but bullets and food for trade meant the town was worth the visit on long hauls. Of all the decent things the town had though, as short a list as it was, one bad thing was going for it that glaringly drowned out all the little problems that built up. The Gangs.

Or Gang, to be precise. One singular gang, the largest, dressed in salvaged suits and hats, fancying themselves to be gangers of an old creed long since eradicated named ‘Gunponies’. They played the ‘guards’ of town, keeping the peace and protecting trading considered illicit by other towns -so long as they get their cut of the profits- and so they formed an odd ‘underground’ of commerce.

The Griffon worked the PipBuck’s controls to pan the map over from Whiney Fallons over to the east, and a short half day’s travel sat Good Neighbor serenely on the screen. Like an invitation to the unwary of a good, neighborly place where every creature, be they pony or griffon or even zebras were welcome. He scoffed lightly, and examined in detail possible paths between the dive and the town. Settling on one he felt most secure in taking, he pressed and held the selector button for three seconds and the screen went blank as the PipBuck went into standby mode.

He wiped the screen of some particulates and examined its case in detail. All the old scuff marks were the same, no new damage as he could tell, and satisfied with its condition he flipped the machine over to see its back. A small plaque showing the Pipbuck’s technical information displayed many things, some scratched beyond recognition and others just plain incomprehensible to any creature who wasn’t a PipBuck technician. In a broad, once empty space, was a name scratched into the case with a dull steely color in sharp contrast to the olive base.

The name was ‘Aizen’.

The Griffon ran his talon over the name, not with a loving touch but one of regret. The name was his own -once before. Now his name was only a moniker to his nature -a calling card to the broken and battered griffon that remained from a sand storm of death that strips the flesh and mind from all who endure it, leaving them with nothing but aching pains.

Shaking the distractions from his head, he slid the PipBuck into its satchel and attached the bag to his harness. He checked his rifle’s action, detached the drum magazine and cycled the feed with test bites of the bit in the side of his mouth to check the firing mechanism. It all functioned as it should, so he reattached the rifle’s magazine with the three-oh-eight cartridges below the firearm itself. He attached his battle saddle and pack to his harness alongside the rest of his gear, adjusting and securing it as needed, as he locked it all into place over his gun metal grey riot armor -the steely face cross hatched with years of nicks and scratches, breaking apart several dull patches of rust- and his faintly stained brown duster long coat.

Once his armor and gear was in place he stretched out in his well worn and long traveled ensemble, picked up his wide brimmed black hat on the nightstand with a caring grace and donned it. He looked about and found the small pot of creek water he had collected the day before and drowned the small campfire till it was nothing more than muddy ashes. Going to the door, he disarmed his tripwire and the mine attached to it, buried in scrap and junk beside it, and settled it in his pack.

With a deep breath he looked at the door, listened intently and found no noise beyond the casual whistling of wasteland winds. He grasped the lever door knob, pulled his revolver from its holster, and slowly opened the door.

The desolate expanse that followed was one that any creature unacquainted with it would be held aghast. Endless brown and beige landscapes rolled with spires of concrete tombs and charred shapes of long dead trees, headstones to a dead world with few left to truly remember them rising into the sky in defiance of time’s ravaging. The sky matched the detritus with leagues and leagues of grey, sickly plumes of cloud that all but blocked out the sky and the sun’s radiance, painting everything in a sickly sheen as it threatened rain almost on a daily basis with the seasons.

From beyond, a steady and slow paced chilling wind lazily stirred what dust and sand wasn’t glued to the ground as damp mud off towards the distance. The Griffon’s eyes with a calm pace examined what terrain was around for possible threats, finding none he holstered his pistol and walked to the middle of the building’s rear parking lot. Sparing a glance back to the building he saw its dilapidated form, anemic and stained by a century of abandonment and a few hours of balefire bombardment before that. It seemed to him as if the building remained standing for simple fear of falling, holding on for no better reason than to spite the inevitable end.

Even if that existence is nothing more than one of a tombstone to what once was.

He scratched his scarred black beak, sniffling, and turning back to the east he walked into what little sunrise there was to walk to. Kicking up dust in his rear paws and front talons he trotted on, towards his next stop to an equally dilapidated place, in an endlessly diseased world.

*** *** ***

The road east was thankfully uneventful. The errant mutant varmints, like bloatsprites or suicidal radroachs, that needed nothing but knife work to deal with made up all the excitement for the morning. By early afternoon the Griffon found himself before a large ensemble of buildings, each one as decrepit as the last with an old billboard before them on the road declaring the town’s name twice over, with the pre-war name destroyed by the words ‘Good Neighbor’ emblazoned upon the face of the dirty surface, accompanied by several other smaller font obscenities typical of raiders or gangers.

This was the Good Neighbor line. The border to which most honest townsfolk never dared to tread beyond without a caravan of guards with them, mainly since within the borders the Gunponies demanded under pain of ‘a thoroughly embarrassing thrashing’ that the other smaller gangs leave each other alone within the lines. Outside of that was uncontested territory, therefore free for any conflict to happen.

Here the Griffon knew he was relatively safe, at least from getting sucked into the middle of a turf war. All there was to deal with were the sentries, highwaymen, and other blockages that frequent the unprotected of the town, or the conveniently unrecognized by fools. Breathing deeply he flipped off the safety of his rifle with his wing, stretched within the confines of his armor with several bones popping, and trotted slowly down the road -eyes peeled.

*** *** ***

For the past fifteen minutes he spotted at least three groups of gangs; small, lightly armed and even more lightly fed, and all of them a rough mix of Earth and Unicorn ponies. They all tucked tail and hid behind their small half destroyed buildings as if hiding from some giant monster that prowled the streets, and their wide eyed and agape expressions when he caught them matched their desperate flight. He simply trekked onwards practically ignoring them. At least he did until he found one larger group at the other side of an overpass that did the exact opposite in his passing.

They blocked the path.

The ragged ponies shuffled slowly forward, wielding blunt instruments like horse hockey sticks or clubs in mixtures of mouth grips -precious few telekinetically held- and some with nasty looking odds and ends attached to the tips that did more for appearances then any true effect. A few even had knifes -a machete here and there.

The big unicorn, probably the leader, had himself a rusty and ramshackle pistol levitated next to him; nine millimeter semi-automatic most likely by the size. From a first impression it seemed like all the caps this gang made went into hiring ponies to get more hooves together just to swamp the opposition, with their barding ragged and literally duct taped together from miscellaneous scrap like metal plates and chariot tires. Their stances and expressions betrayed the worst mistake they made though.

They were cocky.

“Ahm gonna need all your shit there, you feathered fuck!”

The griffon didn’t bother speaking, moving, or even acknowledge the brash leader’s roughly accented remarks. Only his eyes scanned the surrounding ponies as they began to spread out around him within pouncing distance in both spaces between them and the overpass’ base. Smirking, he slowly and casually looked over his shoulder back down the road and saw it was empty, save for one set of binocular glints in the pale sunlight.

He turned his head back to the gang members with a level gaze, and lost his smirk as the leader approached him brandishing his pistol at him. “Are yah listenin’ to me?”

He jabbed his hoof into the griffon’s chest plate with a dull thud, and his eyes had a stare that could boil water now; his pupils barely visible beneath the hat’s brim. The leader didn’t sway in the slightest.

“I am now...” He whispered in a dangerous low tone, deep and gravelly like sandpaper. The leader’s dirty features gave a slight and malicious grin.

“Good!” He did his best to match the Griffon’s own tones, but his lighter accented voice made it impossible. The griffon nodded his head slowly and donned his own mirthless half smile.

“Are you listening to me?” The leader’s eyes seemed a bit surprised, but glad to have his target speaking at least.

“Yeah.” The griffon tensed his shoulders beneath his coat and barding, looking quickly off to the side at the rest of his menagerie and back to him.

“Good... put that hoof on me again and you won’t get it back.” The griffon's smile disappeared, replaced by a cold and level empty expression. The leader gave a half laugh at his bravery, glancing backwards to his gang for a moment and shouted as imperiously as his speech allowed.

“Can you believe this fuckin’ guy!?” His mouth spread into a smug ear to ear grin as he lifted his hoof to jab his chest again, trying to mouth out certain demands, only his hoof was severed in a flash of silvery steel and fell to the ground with a dull thud.

The sight of a blood leaking stump seemed to petrify him into place, and as he pulled back the damaged limb he stared at the clean cut. Meat and bone cut so evenly one could almost swear thinly wrought razor wire did the work, and he stammered at it with a loss of words. He hunched down to cradle the limb with his intact one, and the levitated pistol clattered to the ground as some internal component pinged within it.

“H... how did yah... do that...?” His eyes bulged as shock set in; the blood leaking out upon his arm and the ground. He slammed onto his haunches backpedaling, and looked around him with panic growing. He looked up to the griffon that held a razor of polished steel, like a bowie knife broad and lethal, and the patch of red clinging to its edge. His panic induced anger burst forth.

“He just cut my hoof off!!” He flailed his hoofed foreleg at the griffon with rage filled eyes. “Kiss him!!”

The gang behind him shared expressions of confusion, and one voiced it in a simpleton’s, even more accented tone of his leader’s. “Whud he say?”

The griffon slowly backed down the overpass’ corridor, speaking loudly at the group as he did, blade raised and slowly dipping back into the deeper shadows beneath the structure. His voice resonated softly inside it in a dangerously cold voice.

“He’s in shock. Think he meant ‘Kill him’.”

The gang simultaneously began walking towards him inside the shadows brandishing their melee weapons, a few grinning maliciously and others the façade of surety cracking. The griffon’s murderous smile was lost on them in the darkness, and the closest to him swung his barbed wire wrapped club at him in his mouth. ‘Time to dance’ he thought, and with a deft side step he slashed at the exposed neck in a practiced motion that bathed his attacker in their own blood in seconds; his griffon eyes saw it with acuity despite the lighting.

‘First mistake’ he thought, ‘fighting a griffon in low-light’.

All Tartarus broke loose as the rest of the gang tried to pile on the strikes on an opponent they could only see in silhouette, each and every strike landed in empty air as their target beat his wings, deftly prancing side to side around their blows like water, and parrying with uncanny accuracy those he couldn’t outright avoid. Over extended, each pony pulled their extremities bleeding and sliced in some form or fashion, and several fell straight to the ground in a last grunt or gasp of pain that reverberated off the walls as they leaked their life blood onto the rubble strewn asphalt, with their weapons clattering uselessly alongside them.

One managed to land a strike with his dull machete, and as its edge shattered on the Griffon’s armor he grabbed the attacker’s mane and yanked it downwards to the side causing the earth pony to tumble to the ground violently with a guttering grunt as the Griffon’s blade slid across his neck, making him drop his machete with a clatter. Inertia carried the Griffon forward with a beat of his wings as he lunged faster than the two unicorns arrayed beyond could telekinetically swing their own weapons.

He fell on one, burying his knife into her neck with a shrill shriek consuming his hearing, and he used his free talon to grab her mane and swung around her as the other unicorn swung his magic wreathed weapon at him. It found its mark in his friend’s chest, tearing her barding and flesh to shreds with panicked rapid slashes with her dying shortly from shock alone. The Griffon shoved her body towards the weapon and it clattered off to the ground lost from its magical grip, and using the motion he pirouetted towards the other unicorn whose horn was dim and with a rear paw, claws extended from his open-toed boots, tore four long gouges of flesh from his chest despite his ‘armor’. He shrieked and fell to the ground quickly clasping his wounds in his hooves.

The Griffon felt a sudden jarring and blurring vision as the back of his head exploded in fiery pain; a pain that resembled a club’s strike he had the unfortunate displeasure of recognizing. He pirouetted once again with a blind slice that found some purchase on the raised forelegs of the last pony to stand against him. Blood splattered the blade and the target’s arm in ribbons flying through the air, and the dimly lit features of the pony betrayed a mixture of pain and rage. The pony raised his club in a flash and brought it down towards the Griffon, and he dodged to the side and parried the strike with his blade, jabbing his rigid talons toward the neck of the pony.

The dazed sensation didn’t impede his defensive motions, but it muddled his attack and it went wide. The wound wasn’t immediately lethal, but the pain would keep the attacker blind with anger and wild in his strikes. Wild indeed, his flurry of quick, yet inaccurate attacks were easily avoided by the pantherish and lithe dodges of the Griffon. Seeing an opening he struck out with his blade, puncturing a deep hole just above the pony’s collarbone and ripped it out just as quickly. With a violent half turn he slashed with a free talon ripping three lines through his pain blinded face throwing it backwards and causing him to loose grip of his bludgeon, and as he brought his head back after the strike the last half of the Griffon’s spin brought a powerful kick to the pony’s rent jaw.

A sharp snap and cascade of cracks emanated in the space and the blow forced the pony’s body to fall lifeless in a twirl to the ground. The Griffon turned about with eyes darting back and forth checking for more of the gangers, but found none but the dozen or so dead upon the ground. Breathing heavily, his battle haze lifted, and he ensured all the ponies were dead about him by a quick glance. Little rivulets of blood poured out of each still form, intermingling with each other in pools that shimmered dully in what sickly light came in from beyond the shadows.

Over a ways lay his hat with a crumple in the back of the brim. Scowling as he saw it, not remembering when it had fallen off in the first place. He slowly walked towards it, picked it up and straightened out the brim, wiping the dust and grime from it as he did. Donning it he turned to the bodies once again and began surveying them for packs or other ragged methods of keeping personal effects they may have implemented. A few had some caps, others maybe a bobby pin or two. One even had an old brass flip lighter.

He squirreled all that was worth his time away in his packs. The few that were still breathing he opened up their jugulars with surgical slices as they gave final spasms and fell silent once again. Standing amidst them he counted thirteen dead, and outside of the tunnel sat the fourteenth, staring on with terrified eyes as the ground he groveled on was wet with ebon crimson. They switched between the Griffon and the severed hoof that lay in a small pool of red, and he inched slowly and weakly towards it. The Griffon turned toward him and slowly walked out of the tunnel, stopped over the hoof with the ex-leader whimpering after it a few feet away.

“I told you, you wouldn’t get it back.” The Griffon looked down at him with an empty gaze and with his free talon shoved the severed hoof aside him. The pony looked after it longingly, and with a distraught, yet seemingly resigned expression he stared at his blackened stump.

“Yeah...” he gave a few short shallow breaths “you did.” He stared at the Griffon and his now blood stained long coat with a distant gaze. “Why... why didn’t yah just shoot ‘em? Would uh been kinder than that...” The pony coughed several times, yet the griffon’s steady gaze remained unchanged.

“Not worth the bullets.” He said matter of factly. He turned his head back down the tunnel and spied out the same binocular glint in the same place they were before. He smirked slightly as they quickly disappeared from view.

“Who are you...?” The pony asked faintly as his eyes fought to stay open. The Griffon turned back to him, abandoned his half smile and measured the worth of telling him who he was. He didn’t really care he supposed, but maybe watching his gang get torn to shreds changed his mind on whether waylaying him was in fact a good idea. He finally knelt down on one of his foreleg’s knees with the knife held fast in the other, breathed in and spoke in a low and grave tone.

“‘Red Eagle’.”

Something deep inside him felt satisfaction that the expression of realization, mixed with regret, fear, and resignation all rolled into one flashed across the dying pony’s face. Something even deeper felt a pang of sickness; something repressed and calloused by twenty years of this continued cycle of death he grew ever so familiar with. The accented pony quietly sobbed out his last regrets of how he thought Eagle wasn’t who he thought he was, or how his gang should never have agreed to this hold up. It didn’t last long however as Red Eagle lived up to his name once again.

With a quick motion he buried his knife into the pony’s chest between ribs, and with a push and twist the last dying grunts of the pony were sounded. Sliding the blade from the now lifeless body he wiped the blood from it on the corpse’s tattered barding, sheathed the blade and stood among the newly christened graveyard. His eyes lingered on the city ahead, panning back across the dead landscape as its concrete tombs promised more idiots to throw themselves onto the weapons of others.

His breaths were even, long, and deep as he gave into his desire to reminisce of a time before all this. Not even before the wasteland, since that was all he ever knew, but a time when he never had to butcher a dozen plus people to just go to a town, a time when his name wasn’t ‘Red Eagle’, a time when he had his own home and a people he cared for. A time when...

When he had love...

Footnote: Red Eagle maximum level.

Chapter 8: Counting bodies like sheep...

Chapter 8: Counting bodies like sheep...

The long and solemn walk as they listened to the radio filled the two with a strange form of drive. All but tuning out the world the steps came easier and the small hours of the morning passed them by as they neared the northern mountain range of The Hoof. The songs passed between sad and easy to upbeat and cheery, all of them bringing smiles to Sparks’ slate-blue cheeks as she bobbed to the music without a current care in the world. Red Eagle however just immersed himself in the tunes as they filled the air of silence pierced only by their shuffling limbs; the sounds of talons, paws, and hooves between them subtly kicking up loose dirt and dust nearly dry from the lack of terrible rainstorms.

He looked about the cloud heavy skies -the Sun neared the eastern horizon, bathing the world in its sickly pale light- in wonder to that very question; it hadn’t rained in nearly an entire week on the road, which was odd. The skies always seemed to threaten rain, no matter how little, and the almost dry feeling left him uneasy.

He peered over to Sparks, who danced subtly in her stride alongside him and all but missed his gaze. She clammed up slightly and returned his flat expression with curiosity. “Something the matter Eagle?”

He merely shook his head and looked to the skies, speaking in low faintly concerned tones. “No. Not really, just hasn’t rained in a good while.”

She walked on maintaining a look of confusion as she peered up into the sky, her legs becoming subtly shaky as she stared into the vast skies above her. She had never been in a rainstorm, or thought about them with such worry as Eagle seamed to show. She voiced her confusion in a somewhat worried tone as she turned her radio down low enough so it became no more than a distant noise strumming along to their steps. “What happens when it rains?”

“Nothing really, it gets wet and loud but... it’s hard to keep a heading when you can barely see twenty yards out.” he returned his gaze to the path ahead and his beak formed a small smirk. “Besides, can’t wait to see you get hit with probably your first full force thunderstorm. Stable dwellers always blow their stacks when they see one.”

Sparks had heard about thunderstorms before, even read about them in her small preparation class for leaving her stable. She roughly knew why thunderstorms existed, how they worked and all, but Eagle had gotten it right. She had never seen one like so many other wonders that her home didn’t offer. She puffed out her chest and spoke defensively. “I’ll have you know I’ve heard of Thunderstorms, never seen one firsthoof but it’s not an alien concept to me.”

Eagle’s smirk gained a low, short chuckle as he shook his head. “Yeah, but until you’ve heard the ground shaking explosion of the pure wrath of nature you don’t know what a thunderstorm actually is.”

His words made her uneasy, as they were intended to. Her face screwed up as she tried to conceptualize it, but as usual like with almost everything outside she had no frame of reference. The ground shaking tremors she... unfortunately did from last night’s battle, and she quickly changed her attention to the lightning itself.

She had seen pictures, admittedly blurry and overexposed ones, of what looked like great white tears in the sky; raw electricity that hung in the clouds as if it was a weapon of the Goddesses themselves with descriptions of massive cavitating explosions in their wake. After some thought though she had to agree with Eagle; she didn’t have a clue what lightning or thunderstorms really were like, and as she scowled longly at the path ahead she came to realize another thing along the same thought.

She really didn’t know what this place, The Wasteland, really was. She knew how it was made and objectively what it was, but the afterthoughts of looking at her PipBuck’s map gave her nearly ceaseless questions that she doubted she’d ever get answered. She looked to Eagle with an inquisitive expression.

“Well Eagle, you’re right. Come to think of it I really am a grade-A ignorant for the wastes, the Enclave and my Stable gave me a small ‘survival class’ and training regimen before I left but they... they seemed to leave a whole bunch out of the brochure.” Her eyes trailed up to the skies with a newfound unknown to fear. “Things like thunderstorms for example.”

Eagle scoffed slightly as he nodded his head lazily, speaking in a faintly cynical tone. “Yeah, the pegasi up top know how to live among clouds... but stick them down here and they barely know how to function. Let alone survive.” He looked at Sparks and spoke flatly, his expression cold but curious. “I take it the ‘survival class’ involved little to nothing beyond radiation and disease paranoia? Maybe a little bit of firearms training if you were lucky?”

Sparks’ expression became one of meekness, a slight embarrassment that showed her lack of education in that regard, and her voice struggled to explain it. “Well, more or less... I already knew of radiation and contamination safety from my diversions in medical, and even knew most of the weapons class except for... well, using them. They didn’t...” she sighed deeply, and shook her head as she fixed her eyes on some distant detail. “Well, they didn’t tell me much I didn’t already know. Suffice to say the... worst shortcoming was the, erm... mental preparation. I... can’t even begin to describe how anypony could prepare for a day out here in some book or class.”

“So they gave you a bag of supplies with little direction on how to use it, and kicked you out of your stable without even a cap on your collar. Lovely.” He chuckled grimly, andSparks gave a confused look as she tried to understand the phrase.

“A... cap in my collar? Why would they put a hat on my neck?”

Eagle’s expression changed into one so commonly held by wastelanders when dealing with the fresh faced ignorance of stable dwellers; a flat but baffled face as it seemingly took divine protection or pure luck to keep a majority of them breathing and standing. “A cap; bottle caps, not hats. We use bottle caps around here as money, not the paper notes or bits you probably got used to with the Enclave.”

Her face twisted with confused eyes as she tried to wrap her head around the concept as Eagle stifled a laugh from the ignorance. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t know, but for all the Enclave’s posturing Eagle knew they didn’t know the first thing about The Wasteland, let alone one day coming down on wings of flame to save their ‘dirt slogger’ brethren. Eagle had heard several pegasi claim they would over the years, and time after time found more evidence to the contrary.

Sparks looked up to Eagle again, maintaining her expression of curiosity but edged with bafflement. “Why would you use bottle caps for money? That seems a little...”

“Weird? Yeah, I know. I asked the same question years ago but it was explained to me in so many different ways and reasons it just made my head spin. Some said it was because caps are plentiful, others said they were hard to forge, some said that the old bits were too plentiful and weren’t valuable enough to warrant use. Many didn’t care in the end as to why caps specifically, but the underlying reason made sense to me.

“Long story short the creatures around here don’t really use bottle caps as a currency, we use water and food as the truly valued commodity; water especially as you can see for yourself that around here most water is irradiated or contaminated somehow. Caps just allow towns and merchants to trade in bulk, some... abstract value I guess for traders to peddle their goods between places.

“There isn’t really a ‘set’ value on goods either. Most of the time creatures just barter for what they need and that’s that. One gives another a can of beans and the other gives them a dozen bullets; that kind of thing. But... I suppose as long as folks accept it though, it’s a currency. You can usually get a cap in one town and spend it in another.

“To the point though... when I say they didn’t pin a cap to your collar, the meaning is worse when they didn’t even tell you what a cap is.”

Sparks stared into the distance as Eagle explained Wasteland economics to her, listening to the low and almost distant music of the radio that mixed with subtle breezes rolling in across the valley. The confusion of bottle caps being used as money shifted to the notion that water and food being the main commodity. It boggled her mind for a moment, but realized quickly as her stomach gurgled. She didn’t have all that much in the way of food herself.

When she had vomited up her dinner from the night before, she had been hungry ever since but lacked any appetite for eating until now as he mentioned food. All she had stowed away in her packs were a Stable orchard ration or two with a few of the Enclave’s nutritional protein bars, and she suddenly became aware of just how little in the way of edible foodstuffs were just lying around for the taking.

There were no dispensers or cafeterias for her to lounge in and eat her fill then get back to work no fountains or sink taps to grab a glass of one of the most rudimentary necessities of survival. Water, a necessity up until now that she, along with everypony else in her stable, had taken for granted. Her lips felt chapped at the sudden dryness.

She lifted her PipBuck and used the inventory management spell built into it to find one of the protein bars she had and took it from her saddlebags, peeled the wrapper off she delicately nibbled off the bar as it floated in her magical grasp. She still didn’t feel quite a hundred percent when it came to eating, but knew she couldn’t ignore her hunger for long.

Eagle eyed over to her as she chewed on her snack and stifled a chuckle. He decided to continue with her crash course wasteland education he went on speaking flatly and matter of factly. “Speaking of food, don’t eat anything around here unless your proof positive it’s safe or plain desperate. That goes double for water. Any and all surface water may as well have a giant label on it that says ‘irradiated’. Suck down to much radiation... well, I’m sure you’re aware of how fast radiation poisoning sinks in. Even if you’re ‘lucky’ -and I use the term loosely- and ghoulify I’m sure you wouldn’t want to endure that headache.”

The words dragged Sparks’ eating to a full halt at ‘ghoulify’. She screwed her face up in more Stable dweller steeped ignorance and peered over to Eagle as he talked. “‘Ghoulify’? What do you mean by that?”

“Ghouls are what some creatures become after being exposed to enough magical rads over time, but not enough to outright kill them. Some shrink tried to explain it to me long ago -far simpler than caps yet in too much detail. In short the bombs that dropped a century ago spat out magical radioactive fallout from the warheads they used. Balefire magic in such an amount coated a majority of Equestria, even a bit of the eastern lands apparently, in that nasty clicking hot ash of balefire winter. The fallout still lingers in spots, but overall it’s concentrated in pockets.

“At first glace you’ll probably think a ghoul is a zombie or something like that, and depending on their mental faculties you’d be right to assume. Their skin practically hangs off their muscles in strips and their eyes are glossed over almost solid white. The ferals have a strange need to kill and eat non-ghouls, but luckily not every ghoul is feral; it just depends on how well preserved their mind is after decades -if not a century- of being a walking corpse.

“‘Don’t eat the local fruit’, I mean it; unless you want your shiny coat to get mottled and half rotten as your mane falls out. Then you’re faced with a hundred years or more of that shit.”

The description of ghouls left an uneasy feeling in her stomach as she looked back to the protein bar floating in front of her, and what little appetite she had was gone again as she imagined it, like some demented horror creature given form. She had a clash of thoughts between what she thought she knew was possible and the imagination of a fear stricken filly who had already seen horror after horror proven beyond her worst nightmares already. She shuddered at the thought of herself facing such a grisly fate, and she folded up the remainder of the bar and stowed it back in her saddlebag with a subtle unconscious paranoia that grew about eating anything.

Eagle watched her apparent queasiness and shook his head with a smirk. “Don’t worry to hard about it; if you’re starving a little radiation can get fixed later. Usually your PipBuck’s rad counter will tell you if food or water is really dangerous, and as a doctor I’m sure you know what’s relatively safe...”

Sparks had to keep herself from reflexively gagging at the thought of eating anything that had radioactive contamination at all from both her own education and the newfound knowledge of what could happen, let alone what would be considered ‘harmless’. “Now I’m not so certain any of it can be ‘safe’, roughly, what... five or ten rads worth of a dose a year is considered harmless but even that isn’t recommended. Now I’d say no doses are ‘recommended’!”

“As long as you don’t creep over two hundred and fifty, maybe three hundred rads at the most you should be fine. Usually people only ghoulify after sitting pretty on two-fifty for a while and even that is rare.”

Eagle breathed deeply as he tried to persuade her of the dangers so common in the wasteland, while trying to keep her from being paralyzed with fear of everything. A decent level of respect at least with what she could face -would face rather- now as she plunged into a new life.

He dug deep into his experience, seeking out other little tips and hints that would help keep her alive so he wouldn’t need to hound her every second as if she were a baby from there to Crystal City, but among the hundreds of little survival lessons he had lived through he wished he could just give her a book on the subject. Like some survival guide on the wasteland, but unfortunately Eagle hadn’t heard of such a thing. It wasn’t like any creature around these days took up the pen instead of guns and spears to survive anyways. Writing just such a book required experience besides, less it be riddled with worthless trivia and useless hints.

Hard survival skills came from surviving, and to survive one needs to have the mettle for it; the stubbornness to not accept some grisly fate. Whether it was starving or being eaten by some monstrous creature, but most importantly it needed to be mixed with the skills necessary to ensure it.

He realized as he thought of ways to help Sparks at the very least hold her own weight that he couldn’t teach her how to survive; not only because he was a terrible teacher, but helpful hints and direction will only go so far. She needed to learn how to take care of herself, and he could only play as her guide telling her what is and isn’t safe.

It wasn’t like they were going to be traveling together more than a month anyways, and after Crystal City they were to go their separate ways. She would be on her own, hopefully with some creature that would take care of her ignorance of wasteland life.

The solemn thoughts were plainly etched across Eagle’s face as Sparks looked up to him as they trudged on, and she searched for something to say to him but found little. Eventually she turned her PipBuck’s radio back up and listened intently to the music as it played a cheery instrumental jazz tune of brass horns, drums, and a bass chellos, hoping some music would dispel the gloom. At the very least, it worked for her as she spoke with a small smile gracing her lips.

“You... seem to brood a lot, you know?” Eagle’s mind broke from his thoughts and he glanced over to Sparks. His slightly confused expression became agitated, and he scoffed near silently and turned his head back to the path as he subconsciously listened to both the music and their surroundings. “You ought to smile now and then, since I’ve met you, you’ve had this... severe expression.”

Eagle retorted grimly with a low voice, scowling as he did, and kept his eyes ahead on the road. “Live as long as I have out here and this ‘severe expression’ might be all you have left.”

Sparks’ smile persisted despite the gloomy nature of her companion, and she gave a slight chuckle as she all but disregarded all her troubles in the music’s embrace. Her happiness was short lived however as after some time they neared the hills around the mountain range’s base and Eagle motioned towards her, speaking in a low, anticipative voice. “Turn that off, we’re getting close.”

She did as instructed, albeit reluctantly, and eyed forward where Eagle was scanning the mountains but she found nothing. “Close? Close to what?”

“If we’re lucky? A tunnel with nothing at all between us and the other side of that mountain.” Eagle’s scanning eyes drilled holes into the distance and looked for details thatSparks had no awareness of, but suddenly Eagle gave a deep grumbling sigh that signaled his hopes were once again disappointed. “As it stands though, luck is never something to rely on.”

“What’s the matter, something over there?”

“Banners. Look over there, under those big green road signs.” Eagle pointed a talon in the direction of what took Sparks a good few seconds to even see, but at that distance they were little more than green specks becoming smears against the might of the mountain range’s base of brown.

She saw nothing more than those specks of color, despite straining her eyes immensely. “I... don’t see much of... of anything really. Barely those road signs but...”

Eagle gave a sigh and grumbled under his breath. “You’ll need a pair of binoculars if you can’t see that. Beneath the sign is going to be a tunnel pass through the mountain range, but directly under the sign I see a flag. Gangs of raiders or otherwise use flags or banners to mark territory.”

Eagle’s expression became even more severe and focused than Sparks had expected. He seemed lost in thought and uneasy and that made her share in it despite being unaware of what it meant. He, however, understood full well beyond a doubt, and silently asked himself if they both could manage to slip past a raider gang unseen.

Sparks shifted uneasily in place and spoke worriedly. “Gangs of... raiders? What do you mean by raiders?”

Eagle’s expression turned from one of worry to a cold, but simmering anger that had lost all its edge over the years, and he spoke lowly as the detesting tones were clear as air. “Raiders, ponies or otherwise that give up farming or trading for taking what they want to survive. Usually a desperate pony raids because they feel as if they have no choice but...” Eagle paused in thought, his beak twisting into grimaces. Sparks’ eyes locked onto him, her ears held rapt at his words. “Around The Wasteland some gangs of raiders go above and beyond survival, they seem to live on the blood and terror with some sick and twisted need to cause pain. You’d be lucky never to step a single hoof into a raider den in your life.”

Sparks’ expression became disturbed as she turned her gaze back to the road ahead toward the mountain’s base, and her stomach began to twist at the idea of other ponies being like that. Eagle cleared his throat and swallowed, and spoke again grimly. “Unfortunately, we’re in The Hoof. Apparently the worst raider gangs known make their home here; warring with each other for territory and resources with the weakest gangs getting slaughtered to a head. They’ve made only a few journeys beyond, but Hoofington seems to keep them here. Birds of a feather and all I suppose...”

Sparks’ voice cracked as she stammered, looking to Eagle with fearful eyes and doubt edged her expression. “I...I j-just can’t b-believe that!”

“Stick around in The Wastes and you’ll find all manner of shit ponies, or creatures in general that will make you believe. Raiding? As bad as it is it’s not on the top of the list.” He paused, wondering if he should continue his thoughts. After a few seconds he figured the best thing to do was to throw her headlong into the depravity of the world; let her be sick now and be able to deal with it later. He kept speaking with a sour voice, draped in disgust.

“Slaving and butchering is arguably the worst. A Raider might run in, kill or injure a few creatures and bail after looting a bit. A Slaver gang on the other talon will take everything of value they can... creatures being the most valuable, whether to sell or kill, yet some gangs will simply burn a town to the ground for the sake of it.”

The words Eagle spoke cut a dire path through Sparks’ mind as she tried to understand why anypony would do such things, and she instinctually clasped her belly with her hooves. Her arguably naïve and youthful mind refused to believe it, and she shook her head in the refusal. “I... I still can’t believe that Eagle! Why would ponies stoop to such... barbaric methods!?”

“Because desperation forces creatures in general to be cruel and wicked for their own gain. I don’t expect you to believe or understand it yet anyways, not until you’ve seen it firsthoof. You’re a Stable pony, and I’m willing to bet my canteens that you’ve never even seen a fight there.” He turned around harshly, and closed his eyes for a moment. He decided to use the same speech he had heard decades ago, and continued with his lecture. “Let me ask you this. What if, for the sake of argument, you find such a raider or slaver that is gunning for your hide? Would you try to talk sense into a murderous, gruesome monster and get killed or taken in the process because you refused to stop them? Letting them go off and hurt more creatures just like you? Or would you gun them down, assuring that you -or no one else- gets ravaged by their very real monstrous tendencies?”

Sparks’ expression matched her thoughts, which turned to grim contemplation of such an act. If, and truly if, another pony or creature wouldn’t listen to reason that they would savage her... and go on to hurt more ponies. She couldn’t let them, but that would mean blood would get on her hooves, staining them with the very violence she detested. Sure others would be safe from them if she did but... She stammered, fighting back sudden tears as she spoke. “S-so... the end j-j-justifies the... t-the means...?”

Eagle’s expression turned cold, far colder than she expected or had seen of him. He kept trudging forward a few steps until he came to a stop. He sighed deeply he shook his head and spoke in words she could barely hear. “Not always, no. But these raiders are in our way, and they won’t let us pass without a fight if they see us.” He turned around and eyed Sparks as her expression twisted. “Anything... for home. Right?”

Sparks’ eyes were locked on Eagle’s; the piercing graveness barraged her senses almost as much as his question. That was the second time he asked her that, using her own words no less, and it felt no less wrong and vile than when she first thought about it. How far was she willing to go? Her home needed her to be strong, but as the phrase repeated in her head one question above all came in unison with her thoughts.

Was cutting a bloody path through the wasteland the only way to be strong?

She breathed deeply and coughed as her expression hardened slowly, and with leaden limbs she trudged up to Eagle and looked to his eyes, he stopped and stared into her expression as she mustered her courage as best as she could.

“If I can help my stable out without being knee deep in blood, I’ll do it; I’ll do my... my damnedest to rather.” She scowled a little, and looked to the ground for a few moments as she tried to reassure her companion. “If we get attacked, I’ll... I’ll help defend ourselves, but I won’t go out of my way to hurt ponies. I just won’t.”

Eagle’s expression twitched slightly as he stared at her, and then turned his head towards the mountain as his brow furrowed. “Wasn’t suggesting we do, just asking you what you’re willing to do to keep yourself alive.” He sighed subtly as his eyes methodically scanned the area ahead. “If we’re lucky we can slip past these guys without a problem, only it’s daytime and they’re likely all awake and patrolling the area. Using the smaller access tunnels is not an option.” He said as he remembered the taint fiends, yet refrained from mentioning them. He turned from his scouting and motioned to Sparks to follow. “We’re short on time, we need to get moving.”

Eagle broke off the conversation and tread forward again, leaving her as she trembled slightly. Her words were true and honest but she feared for what would actually happen. Even in self defense she couldn’t guarantee she could pull her pistol and actually use it. The very thought slowly oozed through her mind like tar and it made her limbs feel like jelly; to kill for any reason at all.

She spurred herself to motion despite her conflicted mind, and she sullenly followed Eagle in the quiet left by her silent radio, only pierced by the subtle valley breeze and shuffling limbs.

*** *** ***

It was almost six-forty-five on Sparks’ clock by the time they had gotten close enough to see what Eagle had seen thirty minutes ago in detail that left her slack jawed from the sheer carnage of the raiders ahead.

‘He wasn’t kidding...’ she thought, the hope that it was all just a terrible joke played on some ignorant young girl on her first voyage into The Wastelands dashed against the rocks. As they hide behind a large rocky outcropping they looked upon the mess. The underpass was indeed a camp to raider fiends, and it showed from the sheer gore factor as they had strung shriveled intestines and bleached bones as well as the entire bodies of victims from wires across their little wooden hovels and the tall scrap barrier walls around the camp. All of it painted with blackened crimson red, presumably blood, in large warnings and threats in obscene fashions.

The raiders themselves matched their decoration choices, as not a single one of them would have ever seen a bar of soap in their lives as Sparks could have sworn. They were filthy, sweat matted and wild maned with patchwork armor taken from any scraps that seemed to be there only for aesthetic. Sections of chariot tires were wired to large rusty plates of steel mounted poorly to mottled leathers or fabrics, with jagged rebar or plates fastened haphazardly across the broad sections of plate like spikes or spines.

The worst detail to her however seemed to be the fact they exhibited signs of heavy chem use, as she could see their jittery movements and erratic pinprick eyes if she strained her vision from the distance. Eagle grumbled as he scanned the entrance of the underpass, the large and weather worn green sign declaring directions from The Hoof like ‘Baltimare’ and ‘Canterlot’, but across it’s surface was painted in red a single word stretching from edge to edge.

‘Jockeys’

“That isn’t good...” Eagle said, and Sparks tore her quivering eyes off the grisly scene beyond and turned to him, speaking low with a shaky voice.

“I c-could have t-told you that, t-those ponies are camping r-right on the road!”

“Not that, it’s who they are that’s concerning. See the sign?” Eagle pointed a talon forward up to the highway sign that declared the gang’s name, and the large burlap banner with what looked like a roughshod club crossed with a syringe as its emblem. It swayed in the faint breeze that wafted the stench of carrion the raiders seemed to be marinating in, and after clasping her nose with a hoof she turned to Eagle, her speech nasally.

“Sooo... what does that mean?”

“You wouldn’t know them, but I saw their handiwork on my way into The Hoof. Chem fiends they’re called, high practically all the time on any chems they can get their hooves on. These guys seem to have a particular taste for Rage as well...”

“I’ve... heard of Rage before back in medical, it’s like a steroid isn’t it?”

“Calling Rage a steroid is like calling a mountain a rock; not wrong but it doesn’t do it justice.”

Eagle cleared his throat and swallowed, and after a moment he sat down and fished out a canteen from his packs and sipped on its metallic water. He stared out to the fiend’s camp with a subtle, but noticeable disgust etched across his face.

“Rage is... like a supercharger. It’s a steroid for strength but the main affect is on your mind; it gives you the mental bravery -or stupidity rather- to use it. Equestria’s military used it before The War I think to give their soldiers an edge, but whatever it got them the soldiers paid for it no doubt.” He shook his head slowly as he offered his canteen to Sparks, who drank more than Eagle was comfortable with. He continued speaking. “The addiction rates are terrible for the chem as well. One shot of Rage might be enough to hook any creature.”

As Sparks returned his canteen, her tongue squirmed about her mouth from the steely aftertaste with a slight grimace curling her lips. She looked back to the fiends as they jittered about with seemingly no pattern or routes to their movements. “That explains their... weird behavior.”

“That isn’t the half of it though. They may be flying on Rage a great deal but chem fiends, or just junkies in general, like to shoot up several at once. Cocktail chems are popular among these types. Rage and Buck are often used together, maybe a bit of Dash or even Mint-als, anything they can get their hooves on. Thus the name ‘Chem Fiends’.”

Sparks’ expression shot from worried to outright horror as her mind reeled at the idea. “Cocktail chems!? How are they still standing!?”

“Hey! Keep your voice down.” Eagle’s retort made her reflexively bring a hoof to her mouth as she caught herself shouting in disbelief.

She spoke softly, now in a near whisper. “Sorry... but still, from what I’ve read one dose some chems is relatively safe if properly used, but mixed it’s a biological nightmare. How can they be remotely healthy?”

“They aren’t, but they don’t care. After a certain point when some creature gets a junkie’s taste for highs they might experiment, and if they flop over dead from overdose it’s just how it goes.” He turned back to the fiends as they began to form some sense of direction to Eagle’s judgment, and he began to trace out patterns in their movements. They were rough hewn and amateurish, but there, and it was all he needed to slip past them. “Unfortunately... not enough of them kill themselves on chems. Make trouble for others, even other gangs surprisingly. That’s how I met these particular assholes.”

Eagle blunt and morbid words set Sparks uneasy, but she shook the thought and voiced her curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“When I crossed the border I had to use a tunnel like that one, problem was another gang of ponies made their camp there. I could have snuck past them if it wasn’t for these ‘Jockeys’, who showed up and began carving their way through the other gang with some impressive firepower, which gives cause for concern if they find us.”

Eagle stretched out his body from talons to wings as he stood up, his entirety seemed to ache more than usual; he figured from his previous wounds given little time to truly heal. He motioned for Sparks to follow as he grumbled. “It’s important that we aren’t seen, I don’t think I can handle all those damn fiends if they spot us. Even if they don’t have that chariot in there.”

She stood up and dusted off her barding, but looked up in a slightly confused expression. “Chariot? They actually have a working chariot in there?”

“Yeah, and it’s not a pleasure cruise or the flying type either. This one’s armored and has a massive gun on top of it. It’ll shred you if it gets a bead on you, so follow my lead and keep low and quiet.”

Eagle rounded the side of the large boulder they were using as cover and quickly descended into the scattered boulders and ruined chariots below. Sparks was still reeling from the idea of those ponies below being immersed in chem-crazed lunacy as she slowly followed him, and her mind conjured images of such an armored chariot she had never conceived of before.

She kept low as Eagle told her to, and as she followed her protector Sparks discovered just how easy Eagle had made it seem to descend noiselessly down the hillside. Barely just past the edge a hoof slipped on the loose stone and dirt, and it sent her plummeting down the side of the rock face, exclaiming as she hit what seemed like every jagged stone on the way as her armor absorbed most of the impacts with her body flipping head over hooves.

When she came to the sudden stop at the bottom her saddlebag popped open and spewed her limited belongings around her as she lay there a moment trying to reassert her senses. Her eyes spun like tops from the tumble and her body quite distractingly announced her aches and growing bruises.

She groaned in the dirt and pebbles, trying to pick herself up and failed from her clogged senses as Eagle practically came from nowhere and grabbed her suit’s collar and yanked her to her clumsy hooves. He dragged her as she still stumbled to the cover of another large boulder and fixed his smoldering eyes into hers as they went wide shot from anger in his hushed but raging voice. “What the fuck was that!?”

“Wha-... argh, my head...” She rubbed a sluggish hoof across the back of her head and winced from the numerous pains that throbbed with her heartbeat.

Eagle’s claw, still firmly grasping her collar, shook her hard and brought her eyes back to his. “I swear if you pull a stunt like that again you’ll be trotting off alone to Crystal City, understand!?”

“I... only tripped... my hoof slipped!”

“And with it, you just announced our location.” Eagle peered over their cover and peaked back and forth for a few seconds before he dove back down. He locked his eyes on her as she shook her head trying to dispel the pain. “Luckily, they didn’t seem to hear it. Watch your fucking steps, one noise or slip up can royally fuck us here. Got it?”

“Y-yeah... I got it...”

“Good. Now pick your shit up and follow.”

Sparks did as commanded with an aching pace, and after she crammed all her belongings back into her saddlebags she followed Eagle with a slight limp in her legs as her face contorted painfully with her growing bruises. Her mind had no less discomfort from his sudden curt words, but her preoccupation with the pains that throbbed in her muscles and her subtle fear of Eagle kept her lips sealed from chastising him.

They twisted and turned through the scattered rocks and blasted chariots that dotted the space between them and their goal, and before long they reached a somewhat short distance of open ground that flanked the highway tunnel. Sparks peered over their cover and saw with clarity the Jockeys’ erratic behavior, but beyond that it seemed... as if they were in pain of sorts. Sparks came back down behind Eagle and whispered in curious tones. “What’s wrong with them?”

Eagle tilted his head and held a single claw up motioning for her to be quiet. “Now’s a bad time for twenty questions girl... but it seems like they’re in withdrawal. Looks like the gangs running low on their precious chems. That’s good. Means most of them are probably too concerned on how much they feel like shit to keep watch.”

Sparks watched their jittery and distracted, almost pained expressions, with a hint of pity. Part of her still didn’t want to believe the things that Eagle had told her, but their appearance and decoration choices kept her from trusting that their intentions were peaceful.

There was a hint of that derangement that Eagle described hidden in their eyes, and it kept her breath short with anxiety. Eagle however, seemed to be the face of relative calm with a stony expression that baffled her. “How can you be so calm looking at them? Given all you’ve said already I’d expect-”

Eagle’s sigh cut her short as he shook his head. “Seriously, now’s not the time.” He breathed slowly and closed his eyes briefly before opening them again with a nod. “This might get hot, but you need to follow my every step. Get ready.”

Eagle’s body visibly tensed like a cat on the hunt with his wings tucking close to his body as he lowered himself. His eyes were squinted and locked in place beneath the brim of his dusty black hat, and as the nearest guard on top of the wall turned with a jittering yawn he bolted from their cover like a flaming bat out of Tartarus, and despite Sparks trying to match his tenacity she just barely managed to keep pace with him as she was hobbled by her aches and size.

For a short crouching sprint worth fifty hooves at the most in distance Eagle slid beneath the cover of the tall ominous scrap wall’s shadow with nary a visible difficulty, andSparks all but crashed into its surface with a wrenching halt, short of breath she winced as she rubbed her sore spots with her hooves. Eagle shook his head shortly, and sighed lowly.

He turned about in his crouch and edged his way down the wall to the mountain’s base, and Sparks followed, trying to catch her breath as her heart beat with a heightened pace. She silently cursed her previous inactive lifestyle that hampered her ability to match his endurance, especially after a short run like that, but she shook the thought away as they reached the wall’s end with Eagle beginning to scale a rough hewn rock pile.

As Eagle nearly crested the wall he turned to Sparks with a claw over his scarred beak with a silent hushing motion before he began to inch his head above the wall. He lingered there, near motionless as he scanned the terrain beyond, and Sparks sat on her haunches breathing deeply while she watched intently. For a moment she looked behind her with a subtle paranoia that grew in her mind, but found only the empty expanse of rock and Wasteland to greet her. “Psst! Hey!”

She turned about, her expression startled as she jumped to attention and spoke with a shouted whisper. “Oh! Sorry!”

“Quiet! Stay focused and come on, we’re about to get an opening.” Sparks clumsily, without a trace of the grace that Eagle showed previously, scaled the rock pile up to the wall’s top. Eagle stopped her with a talon and peered back over the edge for a few second’s time, and with a motion to follow him he suddenly pounced over the wall like a cat as she made a graceless attempt to vault over the wall behind him. There was another heap of rocks behind the wall that she somewhat quietly landed on, luckily hooves first, before she scrambled down to where Eagle seemed as if he had already been settled down for minutes now.

He watched her shuffle down to him behind cover and he bore a low snarl of agitation. He wasn’t used to relying on the capabilities of another to ensure a smooth as planned ending, and Sparks was blatantly unable to match his skills of stealth from lack of experience. This began to worry him more than anything as she stopped close to him, crouched low, and her inquisitive eyes asked voiceless questions like ‘What’s wrong?’.

He just shook his head before he inched around their cover and peered about for more paths ahead. He lingered for a few moments, slid back to cover and turned to her as she sat there still bearing the questions in her expression. “Alright... now the fun part.”

“Which is?”

Eagle sat down and fished through his packs and withdrew one of his water canteens, unscrewing the top he offered a swig to her. She took a drink and gave the canteen back to him as she lapped her tongue around the metallic aftertaste. He sighed, shook his head and spook in a low, gravelly whisper as he put the canteen back into his packs.

“Odds are we are going to be found eventually if I don’t do this, so I’m going to give you a quick crash course to stealth. Should have done this earlier but fuck it, can’t dwell on it.” He looked up to the sky with a lingering, distant gaze at nothing before locking eyes with her.

“Now pay attention. When we go forward, you’ll need to either match my pace or be capable of hiding yourself. You’re much smaller than I am, so you should find it easier to manage. Any small crevices or holes, cover of any kind that is capable of breaking visual contact between you and anything else. You’d be surprised to know just how you might be able to hide in plain sight though, slow movements and drab colored clothes, camouflage and the like, all of that can help.

“That blue jumpsuit though will make it difficult for you, so just try to keep behind something.” He paused, tapping a claw to his beak with his eyes wandering to make the fastest and most conclusive guide to stealth he could manage. Sparks watched him with intensity as he went on this tangent, trying to absorb the information as best she could.

“Another bit is that of sound. Sometimes being unseen isn’t enough and you’ll need to mask your sounds. Controlling your body weight and breathing is key to reducing the sound you make, so when you step down on any surfaces try to ease your weight into the motions. Don’t just throw your weight down on a hoof.” He held a talon up and with a graceful motion set the talon down to the ground, bending his joints and dropping his body slowly in an inaudible shift.

“Like so. Breathing is easy enough as you need to breathe in rhythm of your steps, but the ease of it is determined by your heart rate. Keep calm, collected, and keep your breath even and low. Don’t panic, and stay objective. Understand?”

She slowly nodded her head, and tried to replicate it and memorize the movement and breathing in her mind. To Eagle’s surprise she caught on quickly as she demonstrated her ability to learn, and replicate it. He mentally shrugged, as he figured it might be a Stable dweller thing since they spent far more time in classes than any wastelander ever did.

“More importantly, sometimes you can’t waste time taking it slow and need to dive into cover. If this happens just get into hiding and try to keep the volume down as best you can, and don’t settle down behind cover if you have the option to keep moving. If you can go deeper into cover or make your way around and away from where you made the noise, the harder it will be for creatures to find you.”

Of a sudden Eagle’s beak hung in the air mid speech as he tilted his head, as if listening to some sounds. He held a claw up, slowly, and for a few seconds he held the pose before dropping it as Sparks’ eyes went wide with worry, unable to hear what he was. With a deep breath he continued, whispering.

“Speaking of which, you’ll also need to be aware of other noises around you. These raiders for example. Sometimes you won’t be able to risk peeking your head out to see them, so you need to hone your ears to hear them. Most of the time, creatures won’t be quiet looking for you, if they even are that is. If you’re still hidden, they won’t be looking for you, and often tend to be loud and clear when just moseying around camps or... wherever they are. Keeping yourself undiscovered makes it easy, but when one finds you and manages to alert others is when things get... exciting.”

He tapped his claw to his beak, and shrugged finding not much else to cover at the moment with the time they had. “Beyond that, just try to keep a pace with me. Control your weight shifting and breathing, pay attention to your surroundings and stay calm. Got it?”

She nodded after bearing a frown as she reviewed the information in her head. “Yeah, I... think I understand.”

She felt a little better about their chances, and Eagle only hoped that it was enough. “Alright, now with that out of the way, I’ll take point.”

Sparks’ eyes fluttered a touch, and she was broken from her thoughts as Eagle stood up to a low crouch. “What do you mean, ‘take point’?”

Eagle groaned as he rolled his eyes. “As in I’ll take the lead.”

Realization flashed across Sparks’ face, and she nodded with a small embarrassed smile. “Okay.”

She stood up and imitated Eagle’s stance and kept low, her stance wide spread trying to feel her weight shift between movements. Now aware of such complexity to simple walking she realized just how difficult it actually was to control her moves, instead of just moving without thought. She screwed her face up trying to get a feel for the motions, and when she felt somewhat prepared she nodded back at Eagle, who returned the gesture and looked slowly around the corner for any raiders.

He saw two, both of them utterly unaware of all but the immediate world around them. He eyed around for others hidden in the environment, but found none, and with intent listening he heard neither steps nor speech around him; nothing but the lazy Wasteland wind across the valley that barreled against the mighty mountains around them.

He motioned for her to follow him, and together they made their somewhat silent way across the open patches of ground between the hovels of the raiders. They hid close to the small tents and chariot husks that served as domiciles and they stopped frequently so Eagle could look around and ensure their discovery wasn’t to happen.

The next rough ten minutes felt like hours to Sparks who, despite her best efforts to calm down couldn’t shake her thoughts. Between the horrid smells and anxiety of having these raiders almost so close to touch, the fear nearly paralyzed her, but she surprised herself with how well she kept quiet despite how loud her heart felt.

Behind one piled up mess of rubble and trash that flanked one of the raiders’ hovels Eagle looked at her and saw her limbs trembling, like a corked bottle near to burst. He held up a talon horizontally and lowered it slowly with a deep and quiet breath, telling her to calm down and just breathe, and she tried her best without taking huge and loud gasps of air as she closed her eyes. Slowly, but surely, she calmed down somewhat and opened her eyes with a nod. Eagle nodded back, turning to see around the hovel’s corner.

He had to admit he was impressed, ‘a quick learner’ he thought as he eyed around for raiders nearby and other paths to take. Finding one that he was pleased enough with, one that led them through the next half of the camp to the underpass’ entrance with nary a single raider between them and the entrance, he breathed deeply as it meant they were about to really see what these raiders had in store for them.

He stretched his talons and paws, along with his body beneath his armor with dull pops and sighs as he prepared for the worst. Sparks saw him do this with a puzzled expression, to which Eagle saw as he turned back to whisper. “We’re about to make a bee-line for the entrance, and whatever’s inside isn’t going to be pretty. You ready?”

She clamed up for a second and wondered just how these unwashed raiders could make it worse than what she had already seen, but after a few short breaths nodded and looked at him wearing a façade of bravery on her face. “As ready as I can be.”

“Alright then, follow.” He took a few short glances this way and that, and with a launch he strode into a crouching dash along the path, and Sparks at the least kept a decent pace behind him as she tried her best to keep her hoof beats quiet, unsuccessfully despite her honest try. Across sixty or seventy hooves of distance they darted back and forth like gushes of wind between the scattered hovels with the only sounds coming from Sparks herself, and the noises she made agitated Eagle as he moved like a ghost through the campsite.

Finally, after they cleared a good deal of ground quite quickly, they stopped and huddled beneath yet another pile of blasted chariots that seemed to be as common as weeds to her. A passing thought that was cut short when they stopped. She fought for breath as Eagle began to chastise her in whispers. “Come on, girl. You need to be quieter. We can’t go stomping around The Hoof like this.”

She panted furiously and swallowed reflexively. Her expression was winded and slacked as she fought for energy to speak quietly. “I’m... I’m trying Eagle... I really am... It’s just... in a Stable... there isn’t... isn’t a need to... to run around like lunatics at all...”

“I don’t care what you did back in your Stable -you’re in the real world now. If you go stomping past a hive of mutants they won’t feel sad about your childhood, they’ll eat you. Work on it.” the mention of mutants sent questions galore through her mind like wildfire, and her expression signaled questions to which Eagle held up a talon and shook his head. “No, no questions. Just be quieter, I can talk your ear off once we’re clear of here.”

Sparks kept trying to catch her breath, but between Eagle’s chastisement and her confusion to what kind of mutants were in the world they kept a low simmering battle for supremacy in her mind. Eagle looked around suddenly and dropped even lower than he was, with wide eyes searching for the source of some noise that Sparks couldn’t hear with her breathing, and the crudely wrought and suspicious words of what was presumably a raider stallion were heard from behind Eagle. “The fuck’s over ‘ere?”

With that, Eagle spun around in place and with a flash of his talon a silvery white sheen leapt from his chest as he turned the bend behind him. A few short seconds later after a nearly inaudible scuffle he dragged back into their hiding spot the rebelling body of an excessively filthy stallion that leaked blood from multiple spots of his body.

The sight seized Sparks in place and she went silent with a cold chill that ran the length of her spine when the raider’s eyes met hers in his last moments of surprise. Despite her wish to scream or speak her throat felt as if it was under the pressure of a vice.

Eagle pulled his knife from the pony’s neck with a violent slice and held the stallion’s mouth firmly shut with a talon, the claws dug into his flesh with a muffled agonized grunt in response, and a small ribbon of crimson blood squirted from the wound it left as it began to gush in the rhythm of a heart beat. It slowly ebbed as the life left his body and collected in small pools below him on the rocky ground.

Eagle wiped his blade clean on the raider’s clothes when he was finally dead, and with a fierce and threatening glare he locked eyes with Sparks, and he spoke low and dangerously in his gravelly voice holding back a shouting reprimand. “This is what happens when we’re found. Things die; us, them. Either way creatures die, understand?!”

All she could do was muster a small nod as she held back tears from her wide eyes when she stared down to the lifeless pony, his eyes glossed over with a skyward gaze, and Eagle maintained the motionless glare. “You better. Might not be able to catch the next one in time, then a whole lot more will die. Us included. So keep quiet, and keep up.”

With that Eagle sheathed his blade and turned about. He looked around their cover to make sure no one else heard the fight, and to his surprise the space was empty save for the few guards posted far away from their position. He sighed, grumbled under his breath as he knew it was time for them to try and slip past the main bulk of the horde, as it were.

“Come on.” Was all he said, and despite the leaden feel to her limbs she shuffled to him and followed, keeping low and as silent as she could be with an unconscious paranoia that even her heart beat was too loud for him as it hammered her head; the pressure too intense for her to handle.

Step by step they managed to slip their way past the remaining hovels and closed up to the massive scrap gate of the underpass. The giant burlap banner swaying lazily in the valley breeze, painted in an image that Sparks began to detest in the back of her mind.

The wicked barbed club crossed with a syringe began to become a symbol for raiders to her, and she hated the more cerebral concepts behind them she still had trouble believing; violence, their gap of ethics, the willingness to ravage ponies -nay, creatures in general-, and the resulting conflicts that birthed. Her mind couldn’t shake that visage, the deadened eyes of the stallion burnt into her mind, and she began to detest that death seemed to be the only answer as her leaden limbs trembled slightly with adrenaline powered primal instinct; her mind raced.

Her ruminations were quickly yanked short however when they reached the gate and Eagle motioned for her to stop with a talon. His head turned slowly across the face of the large ramshackle doorway, scanning for details that Sparks couldn’t be bothered presently to look for, or understand. He scanned about for raiders who could see them, and finding only a few preoccupied with watching the desert beyond he brought his eyes close to holes in the wall. He peered within the encampment, and after half a minute of searching Eagle shook his head with a snarl, and he began to pry on what seemed like a door of sorts delicately.

Sparks would have begun to ask questions then, but the words hung in her throat like rocks, and shortly after with a subtle groan of creaking hinges the doors opened to a crack. He stopped in his motions and looked at Sparks; the first detail he saw was her almost empty expression with the beginnings of tears in her eyes. He scoffed silently, and after a few seconds he spoke in whispers with a flat expression. “That chariot I told you about is here, along with a good number of raiders. We need to be extra careful here, alright?”

All she did was nod, and all he did was return it. He pried the door open a fair bit for them to fit through, and motioned for her to follow. She did, albeit without any expression of character in herself, seemingly all but ignorant of anything outside her surroundings and what lay in her thoughts as she kept close to Eagle. Once they were inside he quickly sealed the door and they hid behind the cover of chariot husks and heaped rubble, and he peered about looking for threats.

From what Sparks could see, there were a lot of raiders in there with them, and the metaphorical jewel of their armament was that terrible armored chariot sitting serenely in the middle of their campsite down a ways, ‘like an idol’ she thought, ‘to their depravity’.

Eagle shook his head and turned to look at her, her sight seemed distant and distracted, and her expression empty, devoid of all emotion save for that all too common feeling that Eagle had seen, and felt, over his years; the beginning of a mental break.

He stopped, and with as gentle a talon he ever had slowly placed it on the base ofSparks’ neck, driven by some sudden uncharacteristically empathetic surge. She was, at first, startled by the gesture, but refrained from recoiling as she was starved for compassion.

“You okay, kid?” the question hit her like a hammer, and she ripped away from him wearing an expression of deep felt anger and abhorrence. Eagle connected the dots quickly, and answered his question for himself. “Alright, I get it.” was all he said before dropping is empty talon to the ground and turning about to focus on the raiders. He sighed, for a moment conflicted. He turned his head about seeing the receding anger of Sparks as she fell back into ruminations. “Just... I.... I wish there was another way. I do.”

Sparks shot up with a full resurgence of the anger she showed from before and spoke darkly barely above a whisper with accusation dripping from her words. “You haven’t bothered to find another way!”

Eagle sighed, as he combated his wish to retort loudly, and merely spoke softly as his gravelly voice allowed. “I have. In the twenty years I have trudged around your Wastelands I have. Some creatures only know violence; only respond to violence.” He turned his gaze to peer about the campsite, hoping their discussion wouldn’t attract unnecessary attention. Finding no one that had heard them, he turned back and sighed again. “Trying for peace in a violence driven world is a sure way of getting burned, Sparks. I only hope you’re fireproof.”

The comment drove her at first to debate, only the words bored a hole into her thoughts. Her expression went to angered bafflement, but drained quickly to deeper sorrow than her face told. From there, a single tear bearing the power of an hour long weeping leaked from her eyes, and she dropped her head in the sorrow. Unable to believe it, she shook her head throwing the tear down to the rubble strewn floor she looked up to Eagle with a visage embodying defiance. “Burns or not, I will try.”

“Then make sure you stay quiet, or these raiders won’t give you the chance.”

“You can be sure.”

Eagle bluntly turned his head back to the raider camp they hid within. After a few short moments he motioned with a talon for her to follow, and she did with a newfound power in her steps, near silently as she tred behind Eagle as if fastened tightly to him.

They avoided raider after raider, and moments where she felt as if some unlucky noise would attract attention, luck would have it that sudden moments would call those who would have heard her away to other business around the camp; like an itch that needed scratching or another raider among them began to talk with them. Spot after spot they hid beneath the wrecks and garbage of the old world like ghosts, and time after time they made their way deeper and deeper into the heart of the ruined mess.

That’s how it was, until the visage of a massive cage holding in the sodden, bloated corpses of ponies that served as the breeding grounds for hundreds of flies seized both their gazes. More traumatic for Sparks though, was those cadavers were together with the ravaged bodies of still breathing forms, fettered to the chain link fence surrounding them.

The sight set off certain rages in both of them, and Sparks began to tremble, and slow tears trickled down her slate cheeks of a sudden, eyes wide blown with realization that Eagle’s stories weren’t a fallacy. They were true, in untold ways as she saw the abuse on their flesh, the ribcages like whipping marks on their bodies and their hooves were held above them; slack with weakness.

Eagle merely stopped, took short and shallow breaths as his eyes locked emptily on the sight; the shock long since filed away from atrocity after atrocity he had witnessed before. He turned back to her and he tilted his head with a dull visage of grim reality, but sympathy to her feelings he knew too well.

“They beg for mercy. Daily.”

The comment drove Sparks to an even deeper despair, as she grit her teeth behind a now steady flow of tears. Her entire body trembled with a newfound rage, her hooves itched and her vision began to redden from the beating of her heart, and her breath was shallow and hastened. She took a step forward, and another, and another until Eagle put a talon to her chest and stopped her, but the gesture didn’t break her eyes away from the travesty before her.

His low gravelly voice was all but unheard by her thudding ears. “You try and help them, and every fucker in here will pounce on us until we’re dead.”

Her retort was chocked, clogged by the obscene anger and overflowing emotion in her throat as she fought to speak. “I... don’t care... they need our help!”

“You know we’re outnumbered by nearly sixty to two?”

“I... I don’t c-... care!”

Eagle screwed his face up, grimaces flashed across his face as he was conflicted about helping them himself. Nearly an army of raider fiends with them in the middle, and he merely shrugged for a moment as a deeply held breath was exhaled. “Well... I’ve had worse odds before...”

He drew his revolver and flipped the safety off on his battle saddle’s rifle, the subtle clicks like the drums of war in Sparks’ mind. The sound tore her attention away from her all consuming anger and she threw her tear sodden face to Eagle’s dull eyes. “Wait, ca-can’t we just s-sneak out with them?”

Eagle spoke harshly and accusingly to her as he dropped into a battle haze. His scarred beak snarled and his eyes turned into beds of coals. “I can barely sneak us both past all these fucks, I can’t get a talonful hungry and damaged ponies past all these guys along with us. So choose; leave them here, or kill the raiders.”

The question hung in her mind for a few moments time, and as her trembles slowly ebbed away leaving leaden weakness. She shook her head slowly in the indecision, as tears continued to streak their way down her face. Eagle, pressed for an answer, all but shouted at her in whispers. “Choose!”

Sparks, startled out of her conflictions broke her silence with a low shout as her voice cracked. “We... We can’t l-leave them h-here!”

With that Eagle heard the sudden startles and shuffling hooves around the camp, and he stretched out in his armor and growled with a low and grim authority. “Draw your weapon girl, time to play.”

Sparks did as commanded, albeit with great reluctance despite her still burning anger. ‘It’s really happening,’ she thought ‘I’m fighting...’ and the thought tore a hole in herself that became tunnel vision, choking her as she stared at the cage. A sudden pain shocked her in the face, and when her lucidity returned to her she found herself on the ground with Eagle standing over her, her pistol lay beside her.

“Stay focused, or stay down!” As Sparks’ mind ran through thought after thought with no drop of desire to fight she quivered there on the ground with wide eyes and her confliction grew into gargantuan proportions. Losing all control of herself she curled up like a foal on the ground as Eagle stood over her, and he scoffed with a dark accusation. “Fine then. All morality and no fangs.”

Eagle pounced away from her curled up form, as steady sobs streamed from her eyes like a child. Then the sounds of battle ripped apart what little composure remained in her mind.

Hell itself unveiled itself before her, and all she could do was cry.

Footnote: Red Eagle level 21

Sparks level 2

Chapter 2: The Path

Chapter 2: The Path

The road past the battle was... oddly quiet for Red Eagle’s passing. Not even the errant gang diving for cover or skittering of insects across the path disturbed the now lightly drizzling and chilly overcast journey to the town. The rain flowed casually from his waterproofed hat and coat, but what wasn’t covered in his ensemble was soon soaked regardless in cold water that left a subtle grimy sensation -adding to the atmosphere of unseen tension that hung in the air; almost palpable.

With a steady pace, slow and reserved, he made his way down the street’s center in a long practiced stride. He figured that whoever was watching the fight could have had time to gallop or fly their way to Good Neighbor by the time he arrived, or even get word of what had happened by some other means like radio. Spread the news and save him the time, or headache. That could work to his advantage, he hoped, or get the town to brown their trousers and lock him out of town out of fear alone.

He’d been there before yes, but a reputation is a fickle thing as he knew. Being known for butchering an entire group of highwayponies alone could make the locals feel at ease for having him there, but it usually just so happens ponies are anxious around those with reputations like the name ‘Red Eagle’ carried.

Red Eagle, as the moniker goes, was a traveler, a scavenger, a survivor, a killer, a mercenary. He carried many titles from his life but none so impacting as one. Ruthless. He never was one to get squeamish or timid when working jobs and the jobs themselves weren’t always what one would call ‘honest’, especially with pony tendencies to hire griffons to do... questionable odds and ends. He had delivery jobs before, some caravan guard postings, even a few short escapades with scavenging groups, but the ones ponies and others remembered were murders and likeminded contracts; even torture.

Worse was the fact he was indiscriminate, if the money was right. ‘He did what was necessary’ is what he told himself, and that was that. Repeating an old Diamond Dog saying over in his head subconsciously to justify the brutality and horror that any decent folk would lose themselves to insanity.

‘Dog eat Dog world’, survival of the fittest at its best, and the power of the phrase made him sleep easily enough.

Over the years, places he frequented knew his exploits well. Several even hosted a few of them with mixed reactions. Regardless he wandered; town to town, hoping for... something he supposed. To find one he could anchor down and maybe score a steady living? No. Even if he did he’d never settle down in one place for long, never would take the chance if given. The cruelty of the wasteland had already robbed the pleasure of such a life from him, and he would be damned if he would give it a chance to do so again.

The rain and general dreariness made him morosely contemplative, like it would for most. With nothing to really do besides continue trotting, the general silence and inactivity set him on edge and the tension made him brood. The buildings were getting denser and more ruins flanked him as alleyways buried in rubble passed him by, with his throat feeling dry despite the weather as he was lost in mechanical thoughts that continued to plague him for years. Long since drawn out having lost their edge they just repeated below his attention, like a subliminal message being suggested by some shy child.

His eyes caught a distant sight of a large town gate, assembled by what looked like scrap wood and metal with thick barbed wire lining the top across the wall until it butted up against the two large and tall buildings that flanked the shanty town barricade. On the wall was a beacon of distant unintelligible words wreathed in neon light of predominately red, but he knew what they said from previous experience.

‘Good Neighbor’.

With his attention now fully locked on the familiar sight he recognized the subtle yet memorized locations of lens glints in several high placed windows on the surprisingly well preserved buildings flanking the wall. One watched across the distance of the city with a rather powerful telescope for trouble beyond, with another set watching the roads incoming to the town from several directions, including the road he tred.

He knew at least one sniper was following him, or at least he grimly hoped one was. Firstly, he hoped that the town would know he was coming before he just trotted up to the door and knocked, and secondly he hoped the town’s guards weren’t asleep or worse. This was one place he, at the least, wanted intact. Being a good local center of commerce and activity he’d hate for a sleeping guard to ruin it for all the other townsfolk, as one larger than usual raider attack was all that was needed to hurt a place like this. Worse, all it takes is one to strike without warning prior to tear it to shreds. He knew this by experience.

As he closed the distance his body tensed in anxiety for the worst that could happen. That being simply inconvenience, but getting sidetracked over a simple disagreement could be lethal if told to head back out into the wastes. He kept his steady pace as he breathed, easing down his anxiousness, and finally got within twenty yards of the gate, the neon sign blazing ‘Welcome to Good Neighbor’ in a simple, yet garish font and color scheme that blended into off tones of red in the rain; the tiny droplets creating a shimmering dazzle.

It was then he heard the cocking of a few rifles, and their distinctive notes froze his steps as if on demand with his muscles locking without consent. He closed his eyes as he sighed, raised his head up to the left and looked into the blown out, but barricaded, wall two stories high that matched the gate’s height. Standing there was the pony he wanted to see, an Earth pony stallion, grizzled and masculine wearing a thinly blue striped suit of black that complimented his pale grey coat. His hat was an old but well kept flat black fedora of the Gunponies favored style, and it sat half cocked back atop a semi groomed short mane of dirty blonde. In the ribbon wrapped around the cap was a faintly visible pin that Red Eagle recognized as a symbol of rank.

The word they used was for this particular mark was ‘High Roller’, but to him it meant ‘Lieutenant’ with all the effect it had with those privy to the old military ranks. This was a pony well known to him, and he to the pony. As their eyes met, a long silence was held. Then the grizzled stallion began lowly cackling in an odd but bright city style accent Eagle had attributed to hustlers and gambler bosses. He had to suppress a smirk from the pony's mirth.

“Well I’d nevah imagine I woulda seen yah ‘ere again, nevah mind all buttoned up in your fancies’ duds...” The ear to ear shark’s smile practically radiated with his words, his head held high staring down the length of his muzzle, and a hoof pressed to his chest. “I’d figured our quaint little town ‘ere was too much even for yah! Might’ve even suffered a touch at some... unpleasantries.” His expression remained as it was before. ‘A good sign’ Eagle had thought.

“Is that how you ask how I’m doing Chip? Or are you practicing your wit out on me? If you haven’t noticed this rain is cold.” Red Eagle smirked half shouting at the stallion, who took his remark with a faux insulted expression, shaking his head down at his hooves. Chip looked back up at him at shot him a scowl.

“Yah know as well as I do that it works bettah when so called sarcasm oils this, and yah know bettah than that tah talk tah me so brashly!” His scowl held fast for a time as Eagle’s smirking beak widened to a full on smug grin. Chip’s expression slacked and he began chuckling again, slowly building in strength, until finally bursting out with a laugh as he regarded him with a waving hoof.

“Oh yah nevah can take a fuckn’ joke Eagle! Yah outta learn that trick one day yah stubborn bird!” his waving hoof changed direction towards the inside of the complex. “Let him in, he’s fine!” He turned about hoof and trotted back into the building’s cavity before shouting loudly as he made his way downwards into a stair well. “Maybe yah could even learn how tah tell one as well!”

Red Eagle shook his head with a guttering scoff. Staring as a smaller door set within the larger main gate opened with a pained groan of wood and steel he walked forward and made his way through to the large courtyard lined with a handful of traders and empty benches, all the while trading glances with the rigid, skeptical guard ponies. They wore the armored variety of the typical suit the Gunponies wore, with a ballistic fiber bullet resistant suit found commonly on old police uniforms, however plated with polished metal on broad sections where flexibility wasn’t needed.

It covered a majority of their body save for the backs of their upper legs, haunches, and heads, the last bearing only the fedoras they were so well known for. Their firearms were the standard variety of the forty-five pistol caliber sub machine gun that nearly all their gang used; a blocky steel and generally light weight battle saddle weapon used before the bombs. Several were worn on simple holsters for carrying however, and shaven down on weight for the unicorn owners’ ease of use with stick magazines and nothing more than the barrels, receivers, and trigger assembly.

They were a common sight to be sure for all travelers to this town. Their Expressions were hard, alert and wary, fixed on his movements. He returned it with a blank faced scowl as he continued walking onwards past them and the awning behind the wall that shielded their precious duds from the continual rain and weather. Reaching a large and grand doorway that entered the building that Chip was inside of, he shook some of the water off and grabbed the lever door knob and opened the door with a whine of the hinges.

Entering the building the large welcome mat squelched under his talons and paws, shutting the door behind him he shook more of the rain off of him and looked about at a relatively empty room save for vacant display cabinets, half wrecked and splintered apart, and a large spiral stair case that rose up through the ceiling in the middle of the room. A few guards sat in torn and weathered chairs in one corner around a low coffee table littered with half ruined magazines and bottles of various amounts of drink, and a good deal of playing cards.

They looked at him with piercing glares, mixtures of anticipation in a few and visible relief in one as he held up a hoof of cards with his telekinetic grip. Red Eagle stared at them silently for a few seconds as water dripped from his hat and barding, and one finally piped up in a typical accent of a city pony -yet an edge of apprehension colored his words.

“Poker Chip’s upstairs Eagle, says he wants a word with yah.”

As the rainwater slowly drained from him onto the mat he had to suppress a low, agitated scoff. “Always does.”

In a gesture of insult, Eagle trotted off the mat tracking water and mud with him to the stairs, his talons and paws smearing the wet muck on the concrete floor covered in mismatched carpets of different colors, patterns, and sizes. The Gunpony that spoke silently ridiculed him with an appalled expression at his insolence; the desired effect that Eagle wanted.

If these Gunponies were one thing it was immaculate, or the closest they could reach that the wasteland allowed with cleanliness for gangers squatting in ruins at least. The others either just shook their heads or were dead focused on the card game before them and paid no mind to their griffon guest. As Eagle ascended the stairwell, however, his sharpened sense of smell picked up on a rather odd, out of place aroma amidst the usual grime that permeated the wastes, one that stirred emotions. Confusion and nostalgia in chorus sang as it made his tongue shake and water involuntarily.

‘He’s going to try and bribe me, isn’t he?’ he thought. That smell was so inviting that it practically begged him to take it. It was the smell of fresh brewed coffee.

Reaching the top of the stairs he proceeded down to the hallway ahead of him with a light pantherish stride that the wooden boards below barely squeaked beneath his talons and paws. He reached the doorway near the end of hall on the left, the one that had Chip’s name and position emblazoned on it by a plaque of steel. ‘Poker Chip, High roller’s suite’, the room he needed and, more importantly, the source of the fragrance. He rapped the door twice in sharp strikes and settled himself, preparing for what should be an interesting discussion.

‘What in the world would drive Poker Chip, the gambler and money grabber himself, to afford such a luxury for this?’ a question that repeated as he tried digging for the answer, a musing cut short by a cracking sound of hinges and the squeal of the door before him. What greeted him wasn’t only a blast of the bittersweet smell of coffee, but a sight to any other griffon that would have rendered his knees jelly.

To Red Eagle? All it did was irritate him.

Before him stood one of the most beautiful griffons he had ever seen, topped off with a revealing dress of navy blue that was cut short in places like the chest and back legs, but remained tasteful in such ‘high class’ societies. Her features were elegant, akin to a white feathered swan with accents of teal in the edges of her pinions; much like the short plumage of feathers on the top of her head that flowed down her neck. Her eyes, however, were a deep and almost pastel oceanic blue that put her dress to shame.

She held the door handle as she stared into Red Eagle’s eyes with a piercing gaze, as if trying to measure him by them alone. For several seconds she held a firm gaze, and softened a touch donning what actually seemed like a genuine smile in her impeccable yellow beak. She crouched down a short ways, extending her right wing in the motion of a traditional griffon bow of respect and welcome. Extending a talon she met his eyes again, and spoke in a silky yet slightly imperious tone he didn’t expect.

“May I take your coat sir?” For quite a few seconds they stood there sharing silence. Finally Eagle spoke in a monotonously dry and agitated gravelly tone that changed her expression to slight shock.

“No, you may not.” He peered behind her into Chip’s office, and saw it was empty save for the desk, filing cabinets, and some lounging sofas and chairs orbiting a coffee table with the source of the aroma; a hotplate nestling a polished coffee pot with a steady stream of steam lifting from its tip. He met her gaze again and her expression of somewhat damaged pride didn’t faze him.

“Did Chip put you up to this?” He asked in an accusing manner, and her face screwed up into a slight scowl, then smirk as she purred to him.

“What, I can’t play the roll of gracious hostess to such a… fine specimen of our kind? Not everyday I can entertain guests of such stature in such a fashion that they deserve.” She shifted to favor one set of her legs, striking a pose of feminine allure and trying to project offended elegance holding out a talon. “Now could you at least humor me? Nothing more that civility for its own sake, I promise.”

Red Eagle had to suppress a scoff; staring at her graceful talon he relented and started unbuckling his harness along with his battle saddle and coat with sluggish reluctance. His leaden legs were grateful of the load being shed however, yet he didn’t show it, and the pack was steadily set down by the door’s entrance. His overcoat and hat were hung on a rack within the doorway by the griffon playing hostess, and she scrutinized him in his suit of soaked and dirty armor and its broad, gun metal grey plates across his chest.

The surfaces were scratched and nicked with various sizes from what looked like hundreds of blades, and more than a dozen small bullet impacts across the surface. The under suit that covered most of his body, save for his tail, wings, claws, paw toes, and head, was a worn olive drab stained into a random camouflage pattern by age, dust, and blood that was frayed in a few spots, with larger patches of reinforced ballistic plates covering mostly the broad sections of the barding. On the armor was mounted his simple knife, the sheath on the underbelly of his armor, as well as his griffon style talon held magnum revolver belted to his chest, partially hiding the worn stenciled numbers ‘zero two’ on the collar’s center plate.

She took in the entire sight with a long and ponderous gaze, and met his eyes cocking a brow. “Why don’t you really relax? I could probably get the boys to sow up and wash your barding for you if you like; maybe even clean yourself up while you’re at it. We have showe-”

“I’m fine the way I am.” He interrupted sharply and flat, refusing to shed his armor or gear any further. He shook his head softly and closed his eyes, sighing apologetically as he muttered. “I mean... no thank you.”

She stared at him with judging eyes at first, and then softened in a sense of understanding, pity even while wearing her radiant smile whose charm was lost on Eagle. “You’ve been on the road too long friend, come on inside and have yourself a drink. Relax please, do it for me.”

Eagle scoffed again as she turned around purring in her sweet voice. She caught his expression and shot him a look that begged him to just entertain the gesture. He fought with his desire to get his gear and leave, but he knew that Chip set this up and would only talk to him once he had been... ‘relaxed’. It was his way of playing the big and intelligent crime boss that wanted things to be elaborate and intrigued. So he played along and followed the splendorous griffon inside the office.

The interiors were far cleaner than the rest of the building, to be sure. The floor was swept and covered with a large rug with a negligent amount of wear and tear, and off to the right the circle of seats around the table sat in the direct center of the ring; like and old prewar office to entertain and cater guests. The left part of the room had well preserved furnishings of what once would be considered a secretary’s work space; desk, cabinets, and all.

The walls weren’t painted but the drywall surfaces were patched in brighter beige-white boxes amidst the rest of the slightly water streaked darker beige walls, and on several hung select prewar posters of different companies and organizations like clothing manufacturers or local diners. Several new postwar banners of the Gunponies aesthetic were draped across large open surfaces, adding to the almost chaotic nature of the décor in Chip’s office.

His hostess circled around the coffee table and sat down delicately in a chaise close to the set of oddly pristine diner style coffee cups and the luxuriously polished coffee pot set upon a hotplate. She gently waved a talon, gesturing to a chair that was slightly ragged but in far better condition than most chairs he’d ever seen.

“Won’t I soil it?” He said with an edge of sarcasm, looking down at his damp ensemble. She merely gave a cute laugh and cocked a brow with a smile.

“Well if you were worried about soiling our furniture, you would have taken my offer of a shower Red Eagle. But alas, if your stubbornness must insist you carry on in such a filthy getup then I shall have to suffer soiled seats.”

Her quaint chuckle made him stifle a sigh, and with resignation sat down with a squelch of his barding. He immediately enjoyed the comfort of being off his legs and wanted to sink into the chair until he was a limp and snoring lump, however he maintained his posture and stared at the drink before him as she poured out a mug of that tantalizing black drink. He weighed the odds of a poisoned gift to get rid of him for some unseen reason, but she caught his gaze and smiled sweetly.

“Been a long time since you’ve had this isn’t it?” The silence was her answer as she poured out a set of steaming mugs and set the pot down. “We've been exceptionally lucky recently with finding such salvage like this, the beans weren't even all that stale amazingly!” With a giddy pride wearing a wide smile she reached below the table and took out a small platter of tiny white cubes and an elaborate silver carafe. “Milk and sugar?” her eyes squinted suggestively as he looked at her surprised. “Yes, we spare no expense with dignified guests.”

“Sure.” He said in a lighter tone that comforted her, but she donned a faux scorn.

“You could at least say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ you know...”

“Mhm.” He grunted, and the face of surprise, ripped off at the comment, was replaced by annoyance. She laughed amusedly with a sweet smile as she placed a cube of sugar in each of the mugs, stirring with a small silvery spoon; the utensil clinking softly with the ceramic.

“I was only teasing, forgive my social jabs.”

She stopped stirring and poured some of the Brahmin milk from the carafe, making the coffee’s hue change from black to beige with swirls of white. Working the spoon again the drinks turned into a solid richly beige color. Tapping the spoon on the edge of the last one she laid it down on a napkin and picked up Eagle’s cup and offered it to him. He took the mug from her talons and waited for her to pick up her own. She held it up in a slight toast towards him with a wide smile.

“To the lost marvels of civilization.” She declared, and began sipping on the steaming beverage with a face that exhibited nearly orgasmic pleasure. “And yes, it’s not poisoned.”

Eagle looked longingly at the drink and thought ‘eh, what the hell’. He took a sip and he felt the warmth crawl down his throat and the bittersweet taste wash over his tongue. Closing his eyes briefly he let the heat radiate through him, bringing life to some numbness he didn’t know he had. The barely audible moan he emitted gave his hostess immense pleasure, which was visible even to fools.

He opened his eyes again and stared at her expression of glee. He nodded his head and held the mug level with his head. “Here’s to simple things...” He brought the mug closer and took a draught half emptying the mug. He felt the heat hammer his insides again and he relished in the flavor, breathing a deep sigh as he stared deep into the mug. “Things like coffee.”

She shifted in her chaise to relax and drank more herself in tiny, delicate sips. “Indeed, if only the little things persisted. Then maybe the larger problems in life would be easier.”

Eagle held the warm mug in his talons, feeling the caffeine comfort him and sharpen his senses. It’d been a long time for him to just... sit. Simply sitting was a luxury he hadn’t given himself the chance to afford for years. It made him uneasy, restless, made him think. It made him remember things, these small comforts he had forgotten.

He finished his drink and set the mug down onto the table, to his credit it was on a little circular coaster of sorts, to which the hostess felt grateful that he kept at least some social graces. He breathed deeply and sighed to himself, his head hung low staring at the table and his barding. This wasn’t who he was anymore, and it felt... wrong, to put it to a word. Without moving he spoke in a soft spoken, low voice.

“What is this about?” She looked at him with a worried look as he lifted his head with an empty, solemn air. “I don’t mean to sound... ungrateful really. Thank you, for the coffee and your hospitality but...” He shook his head as he fought back memories bubbling to the surface, and his hardened, calloused heart just hummed with a hollow nostalgia. There was no joy in it.

“But you want to know why Poker Chip isn’t here, putting you here with me with such a... bounteous gift so rarely simply enjoyed.” She finished for him in her own soft spoken tones; the ruse of a joyous hostess replaced by a voice of grief. He nodded and she took in a breath with a guttering sigh, her eyes seemed to stare into the distance in her own melancholies.

“He’s afraid of you, you know?” He lifted his head slowly and locked into her eyes which were glazed by suppressed tears. She wiped them with a nearby handkerchief and sniffled, chuckling a touch.

“He’s isn’t afraid you’ll burn the town down or anything silly like that, no darling; nothing so crass. He’s afraid your... reputation will bring other problems. Things like other gangs perhaps. He hasn’t shared the details per se of his fears but... even an idiot could piece together his ramblings between meet and greets. You may be surprised but you’ve been a topic of a few conversations lately.” Eagle just kept his gaze on her as she came clean. She laid her handkerchief aside and sipped on her coffee, and continued.

“Conversations like trying to convince you to stay here and join the gang here, for good I mean. Several are against it, others are still skeptical, but only one or two are for it. They know you’re skilled and handy in a fight and... fear that if you pick one gang over another that gang will dominate the political sphere here. I told him it wasn’t a good idea but the ice brained bastard just ignored me.” She suddenly looked aghast as she held a talon up to her face.

“Oh! Pardon me Eagle. I don’t mean to speak unlady like. It’s just... frustrating that he goes on about ‘the good old days’ all the time between the two of you like that alone should make it a no brainer decision.” Eagle just sighed, shifting his stare on the wall ahead of him with a bothered look.

“If he thinks that coffee and tempting me with you is a way to bribe me into settling down for him and his own gang’s benefit, then he really doesn’t know me at all.” She fixed him at first with a look of indignation, and then it softened to one of sad acceptance. She looked down to her dress and held her talons apart framing her beautiful dress and form, faking a smile.

“Do I at least dress up well?” She pleaded to him. He looked at her with a cold, unfeeling expression, taking in her splendor that he couldn’t enjoy if he tried.

“Yes, you do.” He stood up as her expression turned into a faint joyous smile. “One of the most beautiful I’ve seen.” She donned a wide smile streaked with a single tear.

“Not ‘The’ most you’ve ever seen?” His cheek and beak twitched as his eyes abandoned coldness for a low burning fury, drilling holes into the wall.

"No... she died a long time ago." She clamed up as her smile was shattered and she held her head down low in realization.

“I see... now I’m the damn fool...”

“No you’re not, Chip is.” His low gravelly tone promised a reckoning that would probably never come; he felt every desire to abandon this place to its petty squabbles and politics, but he was locked into place with a simmering anger. Breathing deeply he reasserted control over himself and turned his head to her, her eyes were watering slowly but surely into her handkerchief. “Where is he?” she looked up at him with worry in her eyes.

“You’re not going to hurt him are you?”

He shook his head. “Not unless words can hurt him. No.”

She sighed deeply, with a fluttering quiet sob. “A shame that... I would have never agreed to this if I had known... I’m sorry.”

He looked at his gear in the corner and trotted over. Picking up his harness he began to pull on the straps, tightening them and adjusting as needed. “Not your fault, miss...?”

“Miss Nautica, Eagle.” She suppressed her pained sobs between anger edged words. “It was a pleasure regardless for the drink.”

He donned his overcoat and put on his gear, securing it into place as needed. Holding his hat he looked at her with a level and dangerous expression. “It was. Now where is he?”

She stared at him fearfully, but finally relented with a guttering sigh. “He’s up with Ashmaker in his office, trying to iron out the arrangement I talked about.”

He nodded at her, bowed his head to his hostess, donned his hat, and opened the door and trotted outside closing it behind him. On the other side of the door he measured what had just happened.

For starters, someone he really didn’t call friend, more like ‘acquaintance’, just tried to rope him into his gang with figurative tea and cookies. The coffee was nice but... her? That was unforgivable, even for Chip. He knew damn well how Eagle was, and either didn’t listen or didn’t care. He didn’t know which made him more furious, and as he contemplated how to confront him about this his left talon began to subtly shake, promising deep unforgettable pain.

Noticing the signs all to well he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm his heart rate and bring him back down to Equus. His adrenaline was flying and the only way to staunch it without violence would be to leave, for good. ‘Leave these fuckers to their intrigues’ repeated over and over in his head, but he couldn’t do that. This insult was too dire to ignore, and ignore it he wouldn’t.

He went over in his head the directions to the office of Ashmaker, the leader of the Gunponies. A large brute of a well dressed stallion, he remembered, with a dislike of Chip for personal reasons. Maybe one too many drinks under the table, or one too many losing hands at cards; Eagle didn’t care. All he knew was if he and Chip had a problem, then Ashmaker might not even interfere just to spite him. He could work that to his advantage if... no, when it comes to blows.

He flexed his shoulders beneath his armor and popped his neck in preparation. Breathing deeply he let go of the door knob and made his warpath down the hall donning a murderous expression. This was going to end badly, for Chip at least. ‘She said it would be a shame...’ he thought ‘if he didn’t get hurt over this.’

*** *** ***

Outside the double doors of Ashmaker’s office, Eagle heard the raised tones of argument between Chip’s conspicuous accent and what sounded like two others within. One was unmistakably their boss, Ashmaker, known as a huge stallion with a whiskey ruined coarse and deep voice to match him. The other was a lighter accented mare perhaps, and she seemed to be trying to resolve the dilemma without one or the other saying something they’d regret. Peace was the first and foremost concern of the Gunponies, even their dress code was secondary to want business to continue flowing, and arguments between the boss and his lieutenants threatened just the opposite. Chip shouted, presumably at Ashmaker.

“Yah know just as fuckin’ well as I do that Red Eagle would be an asset to us ‘ere! If we could only buy him out like yah did wit’ that one striped fuck, THEN we would be golden for life ‘ere in ‘old Neighbah!”

The retorting voice, loud and so coarse it could be used as sandpaper boomed back. “Yah outta take yah own advice on this one pal, why don’t YOU buy him, maybe a body guard outta give yah the balls to understand that no gang worth a fuck will really waste their damn time trekking here from outside the city! We got this town in a vice; all the shit heads out there know this!”

“For how long though!? Yah know that it’s only a mattah a time ‘till one of those so called shit heads gets a bright idea and attacks us! Even if we managed to kick their asses back to their clickin’ hot craters the cost would leave us weak, and who knows what other bright ideas bigger groups would get!”

“Gentlecolts, do I need tah remind yah of the fact closed door meetings are meant to be quiet? Please, if anypony else hears this racket the damage will be worse than some fight that leaves us defenseless, it could mean a split in our guys, and then it won’t mattah whether or not other ponies are aiming to take the town because it WILL start!”

It seemed to Eagle, that out of all of them, the mare was the most level headed about all this mess. He didn’t really care for their problems, but he sympathized with her attempts at keeping these assuming idiots in line. He guessed her to be another ‘high roller’, or at least important enough to be able to chastise them both at the same time; while they were going at it.

He breathed deeply and popped his knuckles as he flexed them into fists, easing the tension in them before raising one and rapping the door hard four times cutting the argument short. He heard a few muffled voices beyond the door, and the coarse voice of Ashmaker shot out.

“I don’t care what you’ve got tah say on the mattah anymore, Chip. Consider this case closed or yah’ll wish you shut yah trap about this shit months ago.”

That brought a mix of scoffs and wordless reactions from within, and a short lived smirk on Eagles’ face. When the door was ripped open by a furious Poker Chip he started to shout ‘The fuck yah want?’ at him through the door, until he realized who exactly interrupted the meeting. Eagle could almost visibly see a cold sweat form on his brow, his face looked sore from debate and his mane disheveled beneath his black hat. He coughed a few times lowly as if treading on egg shells.

“Oh! It’s ah... it’s you Eagle! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He chuckled lowly trying to reassert his calm and carefree demeanor he usually wore. As Eagle looked inside the room, Ashmaker, the large beige Earth pony, looked at him with wary dull orange eyes below a well groomed burgundy mane under his white fedora that matched his tight black striped white suit, and the ebon gray unicorn mare in a tasteful mare’s black business suit and skirt just shook her deep purple mane in disbelief, wearing a scowl that promised a flogging to Chip later.

Eagle returned his gaze, level and cold, at the unkempt stallion long and hard as Chip’s face seemed to twist below his smile, in anticipation. “We need to talk.”

Chip laughed softly as he rubbed his hoof on his chest. “Well, I suppose I can do just that! After a bit of time maybe when I can get myself set straight. Out of sorts yah see?”

“Now.” Eagle interrupted maintaining his tone. “In private.” Ashmaker chuckled as he pulled out a cigar and bit the tip off and spat it into a nearby trashcan as he whipped out a tarnished gold plated flip lighter with some sort of decal or plaque on it.

“Oh this I gotta see, Red Eagle. Have yah ‘in private’ here, I promise I won’t interrupt.”

Eagle locked eyes with Ashmaker with a dead serious tone and expression. “I have your word on that?”

Ashmaker matched his expression with minute detail, speaking in his deep coarse voice. “Absolutely, Earth pony’s honor and all that.”

Flicking the flame to life he casually burnt the cigar till the noxious fumes billowed forth. Taking a deep drag of the stogie he put on a wide grin, wanting a show he probably sorely underestimated. No matter, 'his honor’s on it' Eagle thought. Chip looked back in a half panic; wide eyed he threw his gaze from his boss to the other high roller, who didn’t do anything but shake her head as she trotted over to a decanter set aside several crystalline glasses.

“What do yah mean, what are yah talkin’ about boss?”

He just kept puffing on his cigar with a wide grin, looking over to the mare he motioned for her to pour him a glass as well. “Please, yah brought this on yahself Chip. Whaddaya think Stiletto?”

She merely shrugged as she poured out the clear amber drink into two of the glasses with her purple telekinetic grip. “I’ve done made it known what I think, boss.”

She levitated Ashmaker’s glass over to his desk and took a pull of her own glass with a slight shiver. Trotting over to a chaise in the corner she lounged upon it, setting her glass on the table before her after sipping from it again. Chip’s expression grew more worried by the second, and he turned his eyes back to Eagle with a look begging mercy from whatever he didn’t know he did.

“Come on Eagle, this is startin’ to look bad pal. What’s eatin’ yah?” Eagle forced his way slowly into the room, causing Chip to trot backwards, practically tripping on his own hooves. Eagle turned about half way and closed the door with a talon. Breathing deeply he stretched out again within the confines of his barding, and locked his murderous eyes with Chip’s now terrified expression.

“What. The. Fuck. Was. With. Nautica?” each word was spoken in a voice that Chip had only heard once before from him, and it was when he realized the type of griffon Red Eagle was capable of being; beyond murderous. They dripped with hatred and fury he’d never wished to be directed at him, and the individually enunciated words hammered his senses, making him flinch inside.

He stammered out in desperate attempts to speak and wasn’t entirely successful. “Wh...whaddaya mean what was with her? Who are yah...?” Eagle took a step forward. “Oh... Oh! Yah m-mean that barista? Wh-wh-what about her?” He took another step toward him, malicious intent oozed from his eyes as his talons trembled to pounce and tear at him. “Oh c-come on E-Eagle, tell me what yah m-m-mean by ‘what was with her’! I ca-”

Eagle lunged without warning into him shoulder first, knocking him onto his back to the floor with a beat of his wings. Curling up a talon he threw it with lightning fast strikes that rattled Chip’s head with any openings in his meager defense of holding his hooves up in frantic motions. He shouted and coughed and spat blood from his muzzle, but Eagle only relented when his hooves fell back limply to the ground after one strike knocked the will to fight it out of him.

Red Eagle took deep breaths looming over his bloodied and ravaged face, clasping his suit’s collar in a talon he pulled him up off the floor and spoke in a low, cruel tone as his beak practically quivered in adrenaline fueled fury. “Of all your stories of the good old days you can’t tell me the one thing that you shouldn’t have fucked with...?”

Chip’s bloodshot eyes slowly shed tears as they mixed with his pulped features, dripping from his face bearing blood within them. He coughed violently and forced mangled words through a swelling throat and muzzle. “Wh-what? Come on E-Eagle, I know y-yah!”

Eagle poured all his malice and fury into a single strike into Chip’s chest, a resounding crunch and pop echoed as he gave a hollow breath robbed scream of pain. Ashmaker’s chuckles filled the room, but Eagle’s blood curdling mountain shaking roar drowned out all the noises of the room, and Chip’s bloated eyes shot wider than anyponies’ Eagle had ever seen.

“Jade!! You fucked with Jade!!” He grabbed one of Chip’s slack limbs above the hoof and sharply twisted and levered the limb with several bones popping all together out of socket from his shoulder to his hoof, and each sent shards of pain through Chip that his body shrieked of it’s own accord. He began dry retching until at last Eagle threw the limp leg to the ground with a loud thump, and the impact made Chip convulse. Eagle donned his sinister gravelly voice and stared disgustedly at his wrecked form. “And worst of all, you got Nautica to try and play my replacement. To bribe me to join you fucks!!”

Both Ashmaker and Stiletto’s faces were held horror-struck at the realization. The latter whistled loudly as she sipped from her floating glass wearing a dumbstruck expression. “Ho. Lee. Shit!” She said rubbing her eyes with her hooves. “Yah’ve gotta be kiddin’ me Chip, that’s fucked even for you!”

The broken lump of a stallion looked at her with a bewildered expression behind the blood and swollen flesh; she just shook her head as she relaxed even deeper into the chaise. He returned his terrified eyes back to his butcher and began to beg. “P-p-please Eagle! I-I-I didn’t m-mean anything by it! I was just trying to help yah!”

Eagle forcefully kicked the dislocated limb against the ground with a piercing crunch, and Chip cried out whimpering all the while. “N-No!! I mean it Eagle!! I didn’t know y-y-yah were still s-so attached to yah old darling! I t-t-thought yah’d be over that tart b-b-by now!”

That sent a wrathful ghost of pain through Eagle that flared his eyes with no intention beyond tearing the stallion below him to shreds by his talons alone. It would be slow though, drawn out and like a blood sucking monster it would savor every drop of agony to the last.

With a flash of his claws he yanked the pony over onto his stomach and plunged a talon deep into his spine above his haunches, with a shriek Chip squirmed as Eagle dug into his flesh, and with a crunching noise as eagle ripped out the claw Chip’s hind legs went completely limp. Suddenly realizing he was in a fight for his life Chip began scrambling with his remaining leg that worked to get away from Eagle, and a dry and gleeful voice in Eagle’s ears merely cackled as the sounds of dry bones rattled in his bloodied haze.

Then, as if a midsummer breeze washed over his very soul he heard a painfully familiar but cherished voice that echoed like a majestic harp. It was a simple phrase, but one that wrenched him to a full stop as his claws raised, dripping with blood.

‘Please... not like this...’

His haze faded slowly, and he found himself breathing heavily and slick with Chip’s blood. He stared at his stained talons with trembling eyes, every fiber of his being battled for supremacy. Some demanded he ripped the insolent bastard apart, others begged for mercy. If not for Poker Chip, then for himself. The thoughts felt as if they weren’t his own, like implanted suggestions as they warred over him like a child’s feuding parents. He lifted his eyes to the panicked Chip who wasn’t getting anywhere, only smearing blood onto the carpet below him, shuffling as he did.

A sudden sensation of pity washed over him, and after what felt like an eternity he solemnly closed the distance, pressed a talon down against his back holding him down. As Chip crawled and writhed he drew his knife with his free talon. Staring into the distant nothing he buried the knife in a flash above his collarbone, severing his jugular. With a guttering death throe, Chip went limp after less than ten seconds, and it felt like a leaden weight was put onto Red Eagle’s shoulders. He breathed deeply and withdrew the knife, wiping the blood from it onto Chip’s once precious duds.

Sheathing it he stood up, hunched over as his mind cleared the murderous fog from him bit by precious bit. Sighing he looked up at Ashmaker, who despite his own hardened nature looked at him with a hint of understanding, and nodded.

“Earth ponies honor.” He said somberly. Taking a drag off his cigar he billowed out a plume of smoke and emptied his large glass like it was a quarter of its size. Setting it down he shifted in his chair, looking down at Chip’s lifeless, leaking, broken body. “Not that I was gonna ask yah, but I’ll take that as yah rejection to join us. The others will follow suit and forget about yah ever joining anypony here. Chip wasn’t loved, but he was at least respected.” He took a drag of his cigar, and regret crossed his own face. “That brings us to a rather... shitty ending.”

Eagle stood there with an empty expression that matched his emotions. He spoke with his low gravelly voice maintaining eye contact. “Let me stock up and I’ll be out of your mane by sunset.”

Ashmaker nodded his head slowly, flicking the cigar in his hoof as he was deep in thought. “I’ll give yah till morning to walk out of that gate, rest up if yah want. Yah can even sleep here in the compound; I’d guard the door myself if my boys object.”

“No need. No point in staying for word to spread and tempers flare. Gives you and me less grief.”

The large beige pony just shook his head, and took one last drag of his half smoked cigar before snuffing it out in a glass ashtray on his desk. “Always were stubborn, Eagle... Always were... fine, but yah gonna take this; no arguments.” He lifted from behind his desk a clear as air glass bottle with equally clear liquid inside it. One would usually think it was water from how clear it was but the label on it said otherwise. ‘Yak Brothers BEST MOONSHINE’ declared a strip of scotch tape in bold, haphazardly scrawled permanent marker. “I’d intended to see if yah would have wanted to share a drink, but... circumstances changed. Pardon my assumptions, but yah might need this tonight.”

Eagle stared at the bottle with a mixture of a longing and revulsion. However as gracious as Ashmaker was being he wouldn’t refuse a gift. He trotted forward as the pony set the bottle on his desk, grasped the bottle and examined it closely. The label had little jokes about the alcohol content, ‘a lot proof’ and ‘guaranteed to waste you fast’. He turned it over and saw the equivalent of a child’s drawing, now smeared in the blood from his talons, of a smiling pair of Yaks -or at least someone very bad at drawing.

He put the bottle in his pack and turned back to Ashmaker and they shared a look that only long lived, calloused creatures could. “Thanks for the thought.”

He turned and made to leave the room. It felt as if rocks were tied to his legs, but he trudged on in a weak walking pace. Ashmaker took his hat off and set it down on his desk, scratching his mane he sighed deeply. Eagle stopped and looked back at him, and Ashmaker contemplated something and he looked up at Stiletto whose eyes were still glued to the brutality she saw.

“Hey Stiletto, what was the name of that one song? Bar song, the guy’s leavin’ the bar and whinin’ his woes to the barkeep...?” He spoke to her as softly as his coarse voice allowed and she shook herself from the stupor, looking at Ashmaker questioningly. “Yah know, that one by Mic Domino. Prewar.”

She immediately understood what he meant, and began to solemnly sing in shaky words. “One for my lovely...”

Eagle’s beak quivered as if trying to decide whether to scowl or smile, standing there frozen at the door. Ashmaker’s voice rang out a few seconds later in a surprisingly well toned singing voice despite his coarse as five grit sandpaper tone.

“And one more for my woes. I got the routine; put another bit in the machine... Bein’ so sad... could yah make the jazz, slow and sad?” He chuckled deeply. “Yeah, that was the one...” Ashmaker got of from his chair and walked over to the decanter with his glass, poured himself a drink and raised it to Eagle. “We’re drinkin’ dear friend, to the end.”

Eagle just shook his head suppressing a hollow laugh. They saw the grin in his beak all the same. “Ponies...” he said, as he opened the door and trudged out, and shut that door for perhaps the last time he’d ever see it.

*** *** ***

He stood in the heavy rain among the pitch black night atmosphere outside of town. The water cut him through to the core but the cleansing sensation girded him against the slicing cold. The blood had washed off hours ago in this deluge, but it felt as if something more was being wiped clean inside him. He couldn’t describe it any better than it felt far better than the cold rain should usually feel, but regardless he enjoyed it.

The afternoon and evening were uneventful, as Ashmaker had promised. None of the gangs tried to go hoof to talon with him in the streets of Good Neighbor; neither did they ambush him outside of the city. Word had spread of how he had butchered that one gang before arriving to town, then that reputation was cemented by killing Chip. A High roller in the Gunponies that, as Ashmaker had said, wasn’t loved but was respected. No one retaliated and tried to fight him over it, but none of them would have probably helped him short of getting attacked in the street. Then the town would have had worse to deal with than one blood drenched griffon.

Other than that he walked the market square, traded for food and supplies, bartered his scrap and hard goods he was carrying and loaded up on more ammunition and restocked his healing potion supply that had run dry several days ago. The job market was trash, at least for someone who was leaving to never return. He even ran into Nautica in the market square, who was escorted by a more heavily armed Gunpony than usual, and they talked for a short while. Well... rather she had talked. He said a single word for her score as it dragged on.

It was what he expected, apologies, an offer to mend a possible friendship, a denial met with acceptance yet tinged with sadness. She’d never see him again, and Eagle was happy that she wouldn’t. His reputation preceded him, in his path and body.

His path, he wondered, was what now? The closest towns were at least a week away, the absolute closest was a bust since he came from there not even a week ago to go to Good Neighbor, but...

‘You know what?’ he thought. ‘I really don’t give a damn right now’. He peered up into the deluge and let the water flow over his feathers and body, his breath slow and steady, feeling lighter than he had felt in a long time in the rain’s embrace. He looked out before him in the darkness and saw a silhouette of a small building, and figuring he had nothing better to do presently, trotted towards it in hopes for a decent place to sleep.

That, and test his new bottles claims.

Footnote : Red Eagle maximum level

Quest Perk achieved – Gangers Grim Reaper

Chance for raiders and other gang oriented groups to flee if they realize who you are, characters of equal or greater level are not affected.

Chapter 3: All gone

Chapter 3: All gone

Waking up that morning made Red Eagle remember many old feelings; nostalgia, aches, regrets, and chiefly among them was the hatred of being hung over.

It wasn’t as he remembered at all, but immensely familiar all the same. His head throbbed with his pulse as he wished for the world to be quieter than even the dead silence around him. His face was wet with saliva and soured water on the impromptu bed, nothing more than sodden blankets on the floor, and a terrible queasiness that wrenched his stomach threatening vomit. Most importantly though his dreams, or nightmares rather, either didn’t plague him that night or he was too wasted to remember them. Ashmaker was right, and he both thanked him and cursed him altogether.

As he looked around with hazy eyes half blinded by the putrid sunlight from the window, clashing with deep darkness, he noticed one odd thing. He hadn’t vomited at all. Silently whispering thanks to whatever kept him from retching after too many moonshine shots he forced himself to sit up and look at the rest of the room around him, his bones popping and muscles aching. It was your standard fare for wasteland furnishings, an assortment of rubble and broken odds and ends like shelves or chairs, all stained with a century of negligence.

Rubbing his eyes and temples, he looked at his bottle of Yak brother’s moonshine next to his ‘bed’ to find it half empty. The sight stumped him immensely, he felt like the whole bottle should be empty, but remembered he hadn’t had the mixed pleasure of alcoholic comforts in more than several years. He presumed that before he went and emptied the bottle he had passed out insensate, or he had the wisdom beforehand to not drink it all and had forgotten.

Suddenly, his instincts flared as something primal tugged at his numbed senses. Whether it was a noise or something he saw was irrelevant, but he jumped to his sluggish limbs with his knife drawn as his eyes and ears cut through the hangover’s interference. Focusing harder he heard what sounded like shuffling noises, or skittering? He couldn’t distinguish them presently, but he knew he was not alone. His fears were almost immediately doused when he picked out of the corner of his eyes a radroach that had passed from one hole in a wall to another, weaving in and out of the rubble in the room.

“Gaahh… shit…!” the uncharacteristic shaking slowed down to a weakened wobble as he relaxed, realizing how foolish he was being. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all, he thought, but he figured not having nightmares was a good tradeoff somewhere in his judgment.

He sighed and his head throbbed, wincing he sheathed the knife and made his way out to the middle of the room. His belongings were set up in a corner opposite of his ‘bed’, and he saw what was presumably his original idea of a sleeping arrangement. An actual bed, not in great condition perhaps, but better than where he had found himself.

Rubbing the side of his sore, damp face in confusion he shook the thought away and winced again followed by a curse at the jerking movement. Sluggishly and methodically he donned his gear and secured it all to his body, turning on his PipBuck as he pulled it from its canvas satchel. A cacophony of hushed electrical noises sounded as he felt the magical aura bathe him invisibly. The alert screens next to the griffon outline showed the medical terms of what must have been called ‘fucked up’ and ‘hung over’ in common parlance.

Dehydration, being one of the alerts, was easily remedied, and he fished one of his steel canteens out and drank deep of its metallic, but cold and wet water. Thankfully not irradiated or anything else just as bad, the medical display told him how much he would need to get himself back in the green end of the meter it displayed. Nutrition was down a bit, but not dangerously.

Other than that the machine told him nothing new. He pushed the Automaps button and first confirmed where he was at. Some place called ‘Pony Joe’s’. Even in his current state he knew Pony Joe’s was a popular prewar coffee shop franchise, but for some reason raiders or other unpleasant company frequented these stores. He vaguely remembered some surprise the night before for finding it empty, but couldn’t recall more than that.

He panned out the map display to see the region he was in, and grimaced to find that the closest settlements were a good ways off; at least a week’s trot for a determined caravan at best. On top of that he was looking for work, and half of the towns he knew of nearby didn’t have work the last time he was there.

Only two or three were left to scout out but only one was there he knew would have something at least. Unfortunately, it was a town he didn’t have the slightest desire to see. Left without any other options he sighed deeply, and girded himself for the journey east. Getting his bearings outside of the Pony Joe’s after sweeping the area for hostiles and finding none, he stared once again at his PipBuck’s map with a sense of dread before he put it into rest mode and back into its satchel. With a sluggish hung over stride he began the long walk.

The long walk to The Crystal City.

*** *** ***

Crystal City was a large prewar town north of the Canterlot ruins and south of the old Crystal Empire before the northern regions became nothing but a massive irradiated ash and snow desert; it began construction right before the war started in earnest back in the day and was surprisingly well preserved; despite the bombs, even with Equestria’s habit of over designing structures to last.

The city itself was struck by several balefire bombs but the defenses protected it from being directly destroyed, at least according to the stories. It was afterwards when the shielding spells failed that the massive bombardment on Canterlot and surrounding regions nearby enveloped the city, the flames and shockwaves drowned and crushed its ponies into a whirlwind of cinders.

All of the buildings facing Canterlot acted as an improvised shield to the rest of the city, and were all but demolished by the onslaught of heat, magical radiation, and force. The rearwards buildings were all but untouched by the war’s devastation, and the half finished structures riddling the metropolis either still stood defiantly as bare skeletons or long ago tumbled back to the ground from too much pressure from the elements. The inferno a century ago had burnt them all to a blackened crisp on one side, now a dark grayish black like a memorial to the millions dead to the south. The north facing surfaces still retained some of their silvery prismatic sheen, despite all odds, that was once renowned in the Crystal Empire. The mixture of hues created a gradient of silver and black colors, all framed by the beige dead wasteland that surrounded it.

The town itself looked dead, completely dead, at the first glance. This wasn’t true Eagle knew, as a small populace had settled in an old horse-hockey stadium, half a decade ago. A hundred at best lived out decent lives cut off from the worst of the wasteland’s ravagings. They had a decent crop to feed themselves, some trade with the closest towns provided the most of their necessities, and scavenging provided the rest. Even the most obstinate raiders were held at bay by the natural defensive qualities of living in the stadium; along with the distance it held from the comparatively heavily populated southern reaches past Canterlot.

‘The Canterlot ruins alone probably kept raiders and slavers from coming north, with the mountain range cutting off all other easy access’ Red Eagle had been told once, and he shared the sentiment. The only raider threats were what gangs had settled locally, and this city had very few real problems with gangs larger than maybe a dozen ponies. Without a large enough force they stood no chance at a direct raid of the Crystal City, so they limited themselves to attacking caravans, which rarely ended well for the raiders around with the protection that the City afforded them.

The raiders around here were slowly dying of metaphorical anorexia, which Eagle found ironic, and usually only hosted ponies that wanted a taste of a wild and dangerous life like an old romanticized outlaw tale. They got it in spades however by throwing themselves on the weapons of the guards or local wildlife. Once, or more importantly if, Crystal City gets bigger it may be a target large enough for a southern raider group force to push north, or another from beyond perhaps, but that would be a long ways off in both time and cost effectiveness.

For now, the town enjoyed relative peace, and they wallowed in it like pigs in mud all but oblivious to the dangers as Eagle understood.

All this spoke of a decent place to settle down, a town with little problems and a good framework to build up from there. In a manner of speaking, ‘too good to be true’ is what many ponies thought when they heard of it. But those more acquainted with its history remember it used to be a town of opposites. Instead of cheerful and safe settlers, it was once host to the region’s largest raider and slaver gang to ever plague the north decades ago that used the exact same defenses the town enjoyed today. One day they simply disappeared, gone to the wind in a mixture of ashes and corpses as the town was bathed in blood and flame left as a husk.

It sounded like a fever dream of an addict flying high on moon dust, but no one could argue that they weren’t gone, or whether or not it was a good thing. Something going from terrible to promising so abruptly is what kept everyponies’ eyebrows raised, with hesitation in their steps to head there and see. It was only until recently that the town was even settled, and as word spread the wishes were confirmed.

The raiders were gone, truly gone, and everypony who heard the news cheered and celebrated their demise as best they could.

For Red Eagle though, it only reminded him of pain with every beat of his heart. He could almost still smell the fires burning, hear the screams. He was here, almost twenty years ago with three other griffons, and he knew with perfect clarity how the raiders had died. He also remembered who all had died. The raiders were cut down and blown to pieces, the ground made slick in black viscous blood and guts. The traders that were there dealing with the slavers that camped there, both parties given the same treatment. The families of the raiders and traders who were caught in the crossfire, despite their terrorized pleas for mercy.

Those families’ children…

All of them. ‘May the Wind sort ‘em out’ is what Gren had said then, and the rest followed suit as a grief ridden terror. He probably still would have said it if that homicidal griffon had survived the battle.

Over the years Red Eagle had said many things to himself to justify it, but now it was only one of many numbed regrets. He avoided the city like the plague, but now he had no choice. His rations low, canteens nearing dry, with no other town in sight he sighed deeply and trotted towards the town.

*** *** ***

The city seemed to remember him and let him pass with hesitant reluctance. Not the townsponies, as there were none to be found yet, but the buildings themselves. With every step of his talons and paws the color clash of the buildings seemed to stare at him with apprehension, if it was even possible, and old wounds began to twitch across his body. A near seamless knife wound on his left shoulder; a burn on his right foreleg; a few bullet holes in his wings and one in his belly. Many more began to twist and itch as he remembered how he had gotten them, and the buildings themselves seemed to know as well.

The road stretched out before him into the city as an assortment of burned buildings and rubble flanked the passage into the heart of the urban carcass, and low winds that breathed through the surviving alleys echoed like the whispering shouts of forlorn ghosts.

Ahead of him he saw signs, large plywood sheets that stood upright into the air with white marks painted on them. At this distance he couldn’t make out the writing, but the arrow and jewel shaped drawings were clear as day. Crystal City’s settlement was to the right, where he remembered it lay near the town’s center across a large road of the city hall. Nearby that was a sort of prewar market district that was once hosted dozens of shops of a staggering variety, all reduced to empty shells from scavenging over the years. Among them, he remembered, was a library that had been nearly gutted by the raiders and traders all those years ago once a gang incursion was dealt with.

Overall, once a tall and proud town; destroyed in a blaze of terror, defiled, destroyed again, and now hopefully looking toward a brighter future. As he trotted on he looked to the side of the road and saw the lone sun-bleached skull of a unicorn in the dirt alongside its sibling bones, whose horn had shattered and a large hole opening the bowl of a skull, revealing the hollow inside. It almost seemed like it was smiling.

Hope, sadly, was something the wasteland took pride in shattering with a cackling toothy grin.

Averting his eyes back to the road ahead, he trudged on to the city. He felt as if he was being watched, and probably was; if not by the living, then definitely by the dead. Shivers shot through his bones as the idea passed his mind, and shaking the thought he did the only thing he could do for either.

Keep trotting on, despite all.

*** *** ***

At the main gate of Crystal City, he realized contentedly that the ponies within the settlement took their security seriously. Beyond seriously were his actual words, as the once wide open entrance to the stadium now had a massive metal gate, painted olive green, hinged on two immense winches shaped like a pony’s forelegs that, to his judgment, lifted the giant behemoth. Next to it, sat what looked like an old ticket booth with an intercom system or radio perched on top of a desk inside.

He looked around and didn’t see what looked like cameras perched outside the door or any other methods of secret surveillance, but he knew just because he couldn’t see them didn’t mean anything.

He internally shrugged and trotted over to the booth and entered, looking inside he saw nothing of worth besides the little machine on the desk itself, as it looked like it was slaved over to ensure it worked with wires and all sorts of redundancies were built into the somewhat polished housing. A single glowing orange button rested below a large grated speaker, and when he pressed it nothing happened at first. Then for a few seconds it howled to life as it came to speak in much softer tones without the feedback.

“Welcome to Crystal City traveler! We are hoping that your stay here is a long and fruitful one, but before we let you in we need some information to verify you aren’t a threat to the town. We apologize for the inconvenience.” The strangely beautiful mare’s voice that spoke sounded gleeful, but it had an almost practiced manner. It held an edge of repetition like someone had written out a welcoming speech and asked someone gifted in speech to continue prompting everyone who went a touched the button day in and day out.

Eagle stood there at the intercom and cleared his throat, speaking in his best ‘I’m not going to be trouble’ voice he had, and probably failed miserably. “Alright, verify away, Miss...?”

“Oh! Right, my name is Desse, short for Decibel Ensemble. Thank you for asking me my name; you’re the first in a long time to care enough for introductions!” the voice’s stammers sounded cute, even for a bodiless voice, and Eagle had smiled faintly at the intercom having probably made somepony’s day. She flustered and cleared her throat, seeming to recognize she had gone way off script. “So, may I get your name please? For the paperwork of course.”

She spoke cheerfully again, and amended the statement quickly as she flustered. Eagle shook his head with his slim smile. “Red Eagle miss, a pleasure.”

He seemed to hear a gasp about on par with a whisper, and she spoke rapidly as if racing to finish the meet and greet. “You mean THE Red Eagle? Griffon Mercenary and all that jazz!? I didn’t know you were still in the area! You are more than welcome in town friend! If you’re here looking for work mister, then you shall find plenty of it here; we have priority caravans here needing expert guards; we’ve got plenty of ‘tough nut’ location scavenging contracts; we have... well, a whole pile of it. There’s a freelance post board outside of the Highstands tavern up in the... well, higher stands of course...”

She stammered a bit, realizing the obviousness of the statement. She shortly continued her high speed list of things she had to say after a quick breath. “We also have a post board in the market place inside the bar. If you’re in town on other business I’d ask that you please... erm, see the Mayor first. She is interested in getting some professional help; her office is directly above the main gate inside the stadium’s studio.”

He stood there blankly staring at the intercom like he didn’t believe what he had heard, he was looking for work sure but this seemed... convenient; even a touch ironic. He mentally shrugged and shifted in his armor. “Alright Desse, I’ll be sure to take a look at the uh... post boards and marketplace.” He nodded at the intercom, and looked at the giant green slab. “And the Mayor as well, so how do I...” He was interrupted by a cacophony of mechanical noises and could have sworn the gate was wreathed in a dull prismatic glow common of unicorn telekinesis, only it was like a gradient sheen of two different colors. He noted the door’s winches still worked, but maybe even with that the door was too heavy for the system alone.

It would make sense that several working together made this short work. He cleared his throat and regarded the intercom with a gesture of gratitude with the best grateful voice he could make, trying his best first impression. Especially since his reputation seemed to be still alive even here. “Oh, that’s how. Thanks for getting the door Desse.”

“Oh, think nothing of it Mister Eagle. Enjoy your time in the Crystal City!” her voice sounded genuinely pleased. He thought it was odd, a place actually happy to see him. Regardless he left the ticket booth and made his way in front of the giant door now slowly creeping up making a terrible racket.

Once the door was halfway up the cacophony stopped and the glow disappeared, light flooding the inner chamber revealed five ponies; three Earth Ponies and two Unicorns, one of which was a ghoul with her off color, stringy, and patchy orange mane and near colorless beige flesh stripped and desiccated revealing the muscles beneath in spots. Her milky white orbs for eyes looked at Eagle with a vacant stare, typical of ghouls who lacked the physical characteristics to show all but the most extreme emotions.

‘They aren’t ghoulphobic’ he thought, ‘must be pretty accepting’. Each one wore some variant of white and grey camouflaged combat armor barding and each had a weapon, and the Unicorns were panting slightly and hoisted their weapons with magic and shook their horned heads, Eagle guessed to shore up their focus. The other three wore impressive battle saddles with simple, but nearly pristine weapons attached to large caliber ammo bins. He recognized them and their threat immediately.

One of them was a white earth pony mare with a teal mane cropped short over her deep blue eyes, presumably the leader with her star shaped badge attached to her chest plate, and she spoke up trying to be friendly. Yet the suspicious tone that edged it Eagle was far more familiar with. “You aren’t gonna be trouble, right? We run a tight ship here and we ain’t gonna suffer a repeat of what happened at Good Neighbor those days ago.”

She shifted in her armor, tensing when Red Eagle stretched inside his, and he put on a coy look with a grim smirk that may have put the guardsmare at ease. He knew however such a look had an affect on ‘clean and well-to-do’ towns. She cocked her head keeping her battle saddle at the ready.

“No ma’am, I’m only here to look for work, and as Desse told me there’s plenty of it. What happened at Good Neighbor was...” he paused, looking up into the cloud smothered sky trying to come up with the words while twirling a talon through the air. “...a misunderstanding.”

He grinned, and the guardspony looked none too thrilled with his choice of words. “You mean to tell me THAT was a misunderstanding?” she coughed a bit as she laughed, and then fixed him with an even stare. “You won’t be having any of those here. As I said, ‘tight ship’ and all.”

He mentally groaned and donned a flat look of irritation that set all but the leader of the guards back a bit. “No, I don’t know anyone here. So unless one of you tries to kill me or fuck with me this will go well.” He shook his head as he fixed the gaurdsponies with a cold, malicious glare. “If anyone does try and fuck with me, I assume there are laws here about self defense?”

“It depends on the meaning of ‘fuck with’, but I take your point.” The guardsmare glowered, but relented in her questioning and sighed. “Welcome to Crystal City Red Eagle, please don’t be a nuisance. I don’t think the town could survive it if your reputation is to be believed.”

He cocked and lowered his head until the brim of his black hat half covered his eyes, and donned a wide smile in his chipped and cracked beak. “And what is my ‘reputation’?”

The guardsmare fixed him with a calculating stare, and then a frown covered her expression as she began mouthing silent words seeming to try and piece together the least insulting way to frame it. “Well... it’s uh, bloody. That much I can say.”

They both shared a long stare that seemed to bother the other gaurdsponies as they subtly squirmed in their barding, and sweat showed on their brows save for the ghoul’s as several had darting eyes unsure of the entire situation. Then Eagle donned a smirk and nodded his head. “Well rest assured, I’m not planning on proving my reputation while I’m here. Only looking for work.”

She seemed to take that earnestly, then shrugged her shoulders and kicked something on her saddle that he presumed was the safety. She turned around and waved a hoof at the group behind her. “He’s good, back to your posts Gentlecolts.”

All of the gaurdsponies threw their hooves up in a salute, and the Earth ponies, minus the leader among them, cantered their way up the stair case to the left, eager to leave as Red Eagle entered the cavernous entrance of the city. The two Unicorns just took their time, with the ghoul trotting back over to a small booth beside the stair well, flicking a lever over with her hoof bringing back the cacophony and returned next to the other. Using their magic together they screwed up their faces, easing the door back to the ground and once it was closed they let out the breath they were holding, sighing in exertion and wiped their brows with their hooves.

Red Eagle regarded the two with a smirk. “I’m impressed.” They looked at him with a touch of confusion and immediately the ghoul mare beamed with glee and spoke in a voice identical to Desse from the intercom.

“Why thank you mister Eagle, I practice my telekinesis every day to make sure I can be of help around here! Can’t put ALL the load on Earth pony engineering, especially this crane system!” She put her hoof on the massive olive door as Eagle’s wide eyes looked at her from horn to hooves. “Parts are rare besides, and the scavengers aren’t too interested in mechanical systems this specific. It’s all ‘ammo’ and ‘food’ and ‘blah blah blah’, can’t get decent technical stuff these days!”

“You’re Desse?” He asked in a voice edged with uncertainty. She picked right up on it and a small sad frown crept across her rotten lips.

“I know, I know... ‘Didn’t expect you to be a ghoul’, and ‘but you’ve got such a beautiful voice for one’. I get it a lot... but don’t worry about it, I’m used to it. Usually ponies are polite but the 'face for radio' jokes get dull.”

Red Eagle just shrugged a bit and took in the sight of her, grinning a bit. “I actually think you’re more beautiful than most ponies I meet.”

That made her milky white eyes go wide, and if it was possible for a ghoul to blush she did it in spades. She stammered in her cute voice as she folded one hoof over her foreleg, a sad smile as her expression. “And why would you think me, a rotten and filthy ghoul who looks like this be beautiful?”

She looked at him with curious eyes and he could swear a tear trickled down her face, as if she didn’t believe at all what she heard. He just smiled as warmly as his scarred beak would allow. “Most ponies I meet couldn’t be polite despite being as pretty as the princesses of old themselves. You? You’ve a personality that outweighs your... unfortunate looks. Trust me; I’d rather be an ugly ghoul than an ugly griffon.”

He shook his head with a sad smile at the clichéd nature of his words, edged with a deeper truth than anypony present recognized. The leader of the guards cynically scoffed at his words, seeming to agree with him that it was the corniest thing she had heard in years. Desse beamed at his compliment and practically levitated towards him and gave an intense, squishy armored hug as Eagle’s eyes went wide at the unexpected gesture.

“OOOOH thank you thank you thank you!! That’s the nicest thing anypo- erm, any creature has said to me in years!” she beamed as she started to tear up and released him; her stringy mane flew back and forth as she shook her head, sending tears flying. Rubbing her eyes with her sleeve she looked up with a delighted smile. “I’d even kiss you if I wasn’t, well-” Eagle inhaled sharply as he tensed up. She looked at his fearful face, his eyes wide with... something, like he was staring beyond her and being uneasy. As he relaxed she cocked her head with a worried expression with a coy smile. “What? Would that be bad?”

He just shook his head and spoke in a low, solemn voice. “No, just... not for the reason you think.”

He tried to smile at her, but he couldn’t muster the strength to. She reminded him too much of Jade, same bubbly personality, just in a different form. He turned around and with sluggish, but a methodical pace he walked upwards towards the town’s entrance. He didn’t dare look back to Desse as his mind furiously tried to bury the feelings she had managed to dig out of him, and was failing miserably.

‘It was a bad idea to come here’ he thought, ‘and not for the reason I thought either.’

*** *** ***

Crystal City was enormous despite the relatively small populace within. They all bustled about the market square that made its home in the center of the large oval shaped stadium, and deals with the traders flew as fast as they could speak. Commerce flowed in this town as the settlers bought or sold essentials and traded for hard goods with a mix of barter and bottlecaps.

In one stall he could see a food broker trading meats and grains to ponies whodelighted in both; the idea still perplexed him that some ponies would eat meat at all, but he supposed hunger is the best sauce. Another stall he saw a weapons vendor that seemed bored by the one or two customers there -looking like he was trying to explain rocket science to idiots. There was even the complimentary scrap merchant that looked a bit crazy in the eyes as the mare hollered things he couldn’t distinguish from the rest of the crowd’s melding speech.

Beyond that, it was nothing short of a massive and rusty spot welded town of cooperating and coexisting ponies. The wet dream of most survivors by the wasteland's standards, and probably the largest in the region altogether. He could see why they took security seriously, and even with only a hundred ponies, give or take, they had a mountain of unseen wealth that the wasteland’s gangs and such were either ignorant of or were too afraid to try and take; despite the fact the wealth itself lay squarely in the thing they would destroy in the process.

Peace.

If only the ghosts here had left him alone; he might have even settled here if he would let himself, but there were too many horrific memories lurking around every corner.

Making his way down into the market square's fluctuating crowd he felt uneasy with the amount of ponies around, not to mention the fact they parted in his path without the need of a soft shove or pleasantries. They avoided him without being asked to, as if they knew him or were just plain anxious of mercenaries in general. He had known towns that avoided him for both reasons before and he paid it little mind usually, but this time felt... different, and not in a way he could describe.

Everypony there, even the merchants when he had traded to them all eyed him with lingering stares that were unusual. Only two spoke in sentences larger than five words; the easy going chems dealer and wide eyed, now confirmed crazy, scrap merchant in tones that were different than the rest. He figured because it was the fact the former regularly tested his merchandise and the latter was, well... crazy.

Around the town’s layout he saw that the market place was indeed the town’s center, both figuratively and literally, and around it like ripples in water rows of ramshackle welded together sheds of rusted sheet metal and large wooden panels made up the body of the city’s houses and other establishments. One he could see was an impromptu school house and library all in one with a large sign in mismatched neon lights; another he saw was a water purification plant with what looked like a large domed reservoir for keeping the precious substance safe and secure and the town hydrated for harsh summers.

‘All in all’, he thought ‘raiders would be here in force if this city let them.’

He continued beyond to the higher stands and found out the hard way from the glares and haughty scoffs of the well dressed ponies within that these were the supposed palaces of the city’s ‘elite’, meaning the rich or politically powerful and old families that had been here from since the town was in its infancy, which still meant rich to him either way.

Rich ponies to him meant fat purses, and those meant chances of high paying jobs. He had to suppress a scowl as one glowered at him from hat to talon and measured his entire wealth by the dusty and stained attire he wore. Trotting onwards to the Highstands tavern he saw a small café in front of the establishment and its levitating robotic spider armed waiter that served the rich snobs of this society with a voice programmed to match their egos. Even the robot seemed to glower at him with its three orbs for eyes on stalks, judging him immensely.

He just scoffed at it as he looked upon the notice board for any good contracts. He found out that these higher stands ponies were incredibly tighthooved with their caps and seemed to only want jobs of the ‘worthless’ variety performed; which shouldn’t have surprised him. Bodyguard jobs being the most frequent, or chaperones for going down into town to show off their wealth and power to the peons below. None of them were to his liking at all, especially if it meant meandering about with one of these conceited ponies. He sighed as he read one flowery contract after another, with the pay next to nothing; he shook his head and went to go back into the lively in comparison town below.

Outside of the ‘Vadim and Mikael’s Dug-Out Bar and Inn’ in the lower stands at nearly sundown he felt much more at ease, in a sense. The ponies here were few but still skeptical of him, but they didn’t seem to judge his entire character on his apparel either. He mentally shrugged, hoping that even the bar wasn’t a bust, and entered to find himself smothered in familiar, classic scents of pungent booze laden breath, sweat, and nauseating cigarette smoke that seemed to permeate in all bars, and lining the long hallway the overhead beacons of smoky light cut the darkness in harsh contrasts.

Down the hall he saw on the wall a large plywood sheet with papers of various colors and sizes, and closing the distance to read them in the bright light above he saw the writing on them varied from illegible to barely understandable. Some sounded promising at a first glance until one thing or another told him to move on to another posting. Usually his better judgment told him to, but some details seemed... off. One contract offered way too many caps for something so simple, another offered too little for something too much for the amount displayed; even worse were the ones listing the location of a gang of raiders or other undesirables and the payment for removal was whatever they had on them.

‘Someone never learned what a contract really was’ he thought as he scoffed at the piece of paper. One in particular was just plain old fashioned bizarre, offering sexual favors for checking out their junk collection. He just shook his head, glowering at the board in disbelief that an entire town didn’t have some work worth doing at all. He really hoped he didn’t have to meet with the mayor, he knew something was off about Desse’s extension of the invitation to her office.

When an official needed a ‘professional’ that almost always meant an assassin or something equally complicated that required plausible deniability, and that alone painted the Mayor in a bad light if she needed to work through a proxy. That would require him to do it on the sly if it was that sensitive of a job, or leave town after doing it which was a dangerous option -as much as he wanted to.

Out of the shadows, however, he heard a reverberating and foreign accented voice further inside the bar that confirmed his fears. “Sorry to say, my griffon merc friend, that work around here is dodgy at best. Not reliable source of work, that’s why post board still covered in them.”

Eagle turned his head to find the voice’s owner, and it was an oddly familiar massive behemoth of a thickly dark brown furred yak wearing the stony expression popular among his people; he took it as a glowering or irritated one from his experience with them. The giant scratched his chin with a hoof and chuckled deeply. “Even for one well equipped as you, I doubt you’d find work worth the brahminshit for the pay.”

Eagle stared at him with a level gaze and looked back at the board with disdain in his eyes. “So I take it I should just pack up and leave then?”

He didn’t like the prospects one bit, but if there wasn’t work here, what choice did he have? The yak laughed with a deep and echoing mirth and approached Eagle to stare at the board with him. “If you’re strictly mercenary, yes. No work worth a damn here in good number of seasons. If you’re looking to stay here permanently, which I doubt, then sure you’d find work with the caravans or guards. But I take it you’re not ‘stay at home’ type. Too much dust in coat for that.”

Eagle nodded, still staring at the board. It seemed more and more like the only option remaining was to go see the Mayor. An idea which he began to come to terms with. “I need to ask the bartender for some information.”

Eagle turned to face the yak with a level expression, who stood there with his own unexpressive glare with a raised brow. “Well he’d be glad to answer some -depending on the questions- if you first bought drink.”

Eagle glowered at him and scowled. “What are you, his advertising committee?”

The yak laughed with wall shaking mirth and turned around heading into the bar. “Me? No! I am owner of this fine establishment!”

Eagle looked at him with a bit of surprise, buried it and followed the yak deeper inside. He sat on a low, circular and ratty red stool before the bar, which sat all but empty of customers. The smog of smells permeated through the dark air as he looked about seeing no more that four or five ponies around the rest of the inn, two of which were a mare and stallion sitting passed out together rather warmly, drooling onto each other’s shoulders in a deep sleep.

The place itself seemed asleep in a way, passed out from a drunken stupor like those two. He looked up at the few rotating fan lighting fixtures, half of them were either bulbless or broken, and those that did work slowly churned the air in the low light cones below them; creating tendrils of smoke wafting through the air.

From a few of the lights he saw a number of half ruined prewar posters of different things along the walls. Several were ministry posters, one was a poster to what looked like the home team that played in this stadium, the name long forgotten by the smudges and fading of time. The Earth pony wearing the chromatic padded armor of the sport was in mid charge on ice skates and grinned widely, wearing an expression like it was the time of his life. Eagle just stared emptily at it, and averted his eyes back to the yak. The giant of a bartender settled behind his bar and picked up a glass, eyeing it intently and judged that it was clean enough for use.

Setting it down on the bar he waved a hoof at the selection of bottles, each dirty or not completely full in various measures, and spoke once more in his booming deep foreign voice. “So! Pick your poison my griffon friend, I hear your people are fan of harder liquors than most ponies can stomach, it would be pleasure to offer someone capable of something real something... erm, real!”

Eagle just sat at the bar with his forelegs crossed on the counter. “Depends on what ‘something real’ costs. I’m in town for caps as it is.”

The yak’s face seemed to scowl a little, but he couldn’t completely tell. “The cheapest I’ve got of my top shelf is Yakyakistanian vodka, running twenty caps a bottle, and a cap a shot. The bottle will get you questions answered.”

Eagle sighed, mentally shrugging he fished out twenty caps from his anorexic caps satchel in his pack and set them down onto the bar. The yak reached into a cabinet below the bar and pulled out a semi clean and sealed, clear as pure water bottle labeled in the strange, unfamiliar letters of the yaks. Setting it down on the bar he swept the caps into a bin and shouted off to the room’s side, straining Eagle’s ears as he did.

“Mikael! Get in here!” a smaller, but still brutish fellow of a yak entered the bar that resembled the larger one in almost all ways save for his younger appearance. Less wrinkles under the eyes, and his coat seamed a bit neater; perhaps it was just well kempt. He spoke in a higher pitched accent of his larger twin, but still plenty deeper than most voices he’d heard before.

“What is it brother?! You know I am plenty busy doing nothing but minding the rooms! It’s hard job being bored all day, never mind your constant demands!” they both seemed to somewhat enjoy the shouting fest back and forth like it was some long tradition, very well could be knowing their people. The larger yak demanded he take the bin and put it with the rest, the smaller one demanded he do it since he was so busy being bored, to which the larger one wailed sarcastically that he was trying to help him have some excitement in his life.

In the middle of their shouting match a thought hit Eagle like a mallet to the head, and he dug into his pack and found the now quarter full bottle of the Moonshine he still had. He looked at the label and eyed it carefully, examining the uncanny resemblance in the yaks before him and the children’s drawings on the bottle. “You yaks make this stuff?”

His interruption was at first held in a loathing scowl easily read on their faces, but when they saw the bottle in Eagle’s talon they both seemed to grin widely; basking in the recognition. The bartender spoke quickly and proudly.

“Why yes! Best yak moonshine south of Yakyakistan! Made right here in Crystal city to curl the sensitive snouts of weak liquor puking ponies!” He held his forelegs wide and laughed with his usual mirth that all but rattled the foundation of the bar. “If you drink it yourself, I can see you enjoyed it well enough friend, good to meet non-yak who can appreciate it for what it is!”

Eagle just scowled as his tongue remembered the vile flavor with a quiver, and dismissively gestured at the bottle with his other talon. “I think it tastes like shit personally, but it... ah, helps. Acquaintance of mine gave me a bottle.”

He paused for a moment, dreading the future nights he would sleep, and equally dreading the mornings after as he contemplated buying another. The yak seemed to take it well though, and he thumped his massive chest with a hoof and spoke earnestly. “I can welcome good honesty, even if it ridicules the nectar of my people. If it helps you, then tell me who recommended it to you and I shall consider offering you my prized brew.”

Eagle just sighed as the yak cocked a brow and smiled widely, not expecting him to know the name. “That would be Ashmaker, out of Good Neighbor. Leader of the Gunponies there.”

“Very well, he shall be receiving bundle of my finest for the reference, and you shall get your first bottle free my friend!” The yak seemed to either know exactly who the name belonged to or didn’t care. He reached below the counter and whipped out a full bottle and set it down in front of him.

Eagle stared at the moonshine bottle thoroughly surprised, then to the vodka bottle and back to the widely grinning yak. “You might as well take the vodka back then; it never did me any good beyond a sanitizer.”

“Then you may keep it for such an occasion, or whatever strikes your fancy; even spontaneous charity to some drunkard. Believe me when I say I can’t get rid of the shit fast enough.” Eagle glared at the yak questioningly, and the yak amended himself. “I mean, I have whole room alone of it. You’ve no idea how much of this swill Yakyakistan made before war, let alone after. Making vodka with grain... grain!!” the outburst made Eagle clench his teeth, but he nodded and looked at the bottle for a moment, then fixed the giant with a glare speaking accusingly.

“If it’s so bad, why did I pay twenty caps for it?” the yak just laughed and shrugged his huge furred shoulders.

“Bit of deception, maybe. You paid twenty caps for me to answer questions, think of the bottle as surprise gift.” The yak looked up around the bar and back to Eagle. “Speaking of which, I believe you’re still waiting on those answers. I doubt you want to chitchat here until nightfall. Then you’ll need fifteen caps for room from my dead beat brother!!” the smaller yak bellowed back at him, snapped from his empty bored gaze.

“Vadim! I am not dead eat; I pull my weight around here!!”

“If only your rental rooms made more than my glorious bar, then you would have right to talk nonsense!!” Eagle waved a talon, shook his head with squinted eyes from the sheer volume power these two had.

“Alright! Let me ask my questions before you tear the bar down!” Vadim looked at Eagle with an appraising look, and then laughed again with that shaking mirth as Mikael matched it with a hint of agitation. Eagle couldn’t tell if he laughed at himself or his brother, maybe both as he left the bar proper deeper into the back rooms.

“Oh friend, pay our banter no mind. It is admired amusement for yaks, if it was ever serious the whole of Crystal City would know it beyond doubt! Now, what’s first question?”

Eagle sighed as he relaxed deeper into the stool, eyeing the new bottle of moonshine in his possession. He put it away into his pack and cracked open the old one. Vadim watched him as Eagle poured himself a double shot tumbler and glowered at it with hesitance. Then with a single motion he held it up in a mock toast, downed it, a mixture of swallowing and gagging followed that sent shivers throughout his body.

His mouth was nearly sucked dry instantly by the practically pure alcohol, and a heat flowered in his stomach. He grimaced and smacked his beak, rolling his tongue within it with clenched eyes. After a few seconds he shook his head and opened his regretful eyes, and looked at Vadim who just stood there, patiently.

“I need to ask you about the politics here, among other things. The short version if you could.”

The yak looked a bit taken aback by the choice of question. Eagle figured the usual questions were local landmarks, which stores were good for their caps, or maybe even the occasional life advice. Regardless the giant yak fixed him with an even stare that lengthened the silence. Finally, Vadim breathed deeply, hoisted a glass to the bar and poured out some of his own moonshine.

“Oh, this will be good... ask yak of politics and whew! Furniture breaks.”

Eagle adjusted himself in his seat and took his hat off, revealing the short plumage of reflective navy blue, grey striped feathers sweeping back down his neck; his scalp smooth like a raven’s. Setting the hat down next to his bottle as the warmth of the moonshine began to touch his talons and toe tips, and e cocked a brow at Vadim with a half grin. “That bad here?”

The yak merely nodded his head as he finished filling his glass to the brim and downed it with far less hesitance that Eagle had, as well as no visible squirming from the flavor. “That bad everywhere these days, but here? Only reason I’m still here is my brother.” He turned his head with an outcry. “He’s YOUNG and STUPID!”

As Vadim looked back to Eagle with a squinty eyed, wide toothy grin, and there was a muffled retort that was barely understandable. “But he’s good guy, and I’ll be damned if I’m to just abandon him to fending for himself. This town provides safety, good trade, clean food and water, all things one could want.” Vadim screwed his face up as he amended his statement. “Except yak snow perhaps, but whatever. Necessities I mean.”

Eagle looked at his bottle of moonshine and knew he was going to regret this night in spades, but he could afford the room when it came down to it. He needed the sleep really, and his body was still sore from the last week’s journey from Good Neighbor. He poured himself another double shot and repeated his last reaction when he downed it, although with much better recovery this go around. Smacking his beak he spoke in a course, throaty voice from the drink.

“So what’s the hellhound in the room?” The yak just gave him a flat stare as he too poured himself another full glass and downed it. “The politics?”

Vadim smacked his lips and grimaced angrily, and eagle knew from his low voice that this genuinely angered Vadim. “You hit metaphorical nail on head, here in Crystal city there is so called ‘problem’ with ‘racial division’. Racist brahminshit is what it is.”

Eagle just stared at Vadim as his typical mirth and demeanor disappeared, and understood why it was a bad topic as he felt the second shot of the moonshine reach his limbs in full strength. His body eased into the stool even deeper; his head beginning to feel the alcohol’s pressure. It took effort for him to remain sitting up, but he still felt that odd fuzzy sensation. Vadim scowled even deeper as he violently took a pull from his bottle itself and licked his lips.

“Any creature around that isn’t pony is usually looked down on, the more foreign the more disdain they’re paid. We yak brothers are only ‘tolerated’ since we own bar and have impeccable selection and service! That and only other bar here serves the snobs of higher stands.”

Eagle’s face twisted as he began to connect the dots through his day, and he now recognized the expressions on the ponies’ faces. It wasn’t fear or uneasiness of who he was, but what. His reputation only augmented the already existing contempt, and that twisted something up inside him. He had been in towns where one or two ponies had disliked him like that, but this was the entire town it seemed.

His eyes narrowed as he matched Vadim’s scowl and he poured another double shot and downed it with little resistance as he began to understand just how many of the ponies he saw wore that apprehension. Only a few of the locals and the foals and fillies looked at him differently, with gaping wonder of probably the first griffon they’d ever seen. “That explains the cold reception I got from the town.”

Vadim huffed deeply and drilled a far wall with violence-against-furniture promising eyes. “Yes, let me be the first to apologize about them, I cannot do it for them but better than leaving it unsaid.”

He took another pull of his bottle, with only a third remaining, and Eagle glared wide eyed at the sight and was amazed the yak wasn’t either passed out or retching; or destroying the town in a drunken whirlwind of destruction. Shaking his head to focus, his world began to spin somewhat as his balance played inebriated tricks on him.

He settled himself and anchored himself on the bar. “So what does the Mayor do about it?”

That question seemed to make the yak’s coat inflate as his eyes went wide with unbridled hatred. His body trembled as he tried to control any outburst that resulted in smashed bar fixtures, and he spoke in a nasty, course and low voice that arched in intensity from syllable to syllable. “That bitch is one who started it four years ago! Got elected after promising better defense, better trade, better everything! One of requirements down the way was exclusive access to town, and then with steady speeches and half truths she managed to get whole town intolerant or isolationist, basing most of it on old prewar notions!”

In the middle of his rant he slammed the moonshine bottle down on the counter, splashing a bit out of the bottle and to Eagle’s amazement didn’t shatter it. “The first to go were Zebra settlers, fearing they were part of some... ultranationalist Zebra force -besides fact any would be long ways away. Next were ghouls and other mutants in general. I’m glad that Desse is still here because she’s ‘useful as radio personality’ -and knows how to use gun better than bigots do. Then the Yaks and Griffons denied unless they bring ‘job opportunities’ and trade goods that ponies require. Before long, no creature but pony will remain here, maybe they will even target themselves eventually unless town changes!”

After his flaming rant he reached behind the bar and hoisted a heavy wooden chair with a mighty exertion that soon flew across the bar and smashed into splinters against the concrete wall beyond. That ripped a few ponies’ attentions away from their drunken stupor and they glared about with confusion at the mayhem. Huffing and panting the immensely angered yak slowly calmed himself and took a pull off his bottle. Emptying its contents in a single motion he threw the bottle in the last guttering cries of his anger and it too smashed against the wall.

Eagle sat there numbed by the sudden history lesson, but wide eyed of its contents. If he knew the town was this bad he would have kept going down the road and never looked back, but he knew that wouldn’t have left him many options. “Well shit, that makes things difficult.”

Vadim shot him a gaze that was still edged with anger, rolling his eyes. “Of course it makes shit ‘difficult’.”

Eagle shifted in his chair, and shook his head as the second and third shot hit home. His entire body buzzed with that fuzzy sensation as he fought to stay sitting up, and flexing his paws and talons he feared when he would have to walk again. Donning a scowl he spoke in a low coarse tone.

“Well yeah, but when I first got here Desse answered the intercom. After we introduced ourselves she shot off several business openings, the boards I mean, along with an invitation by the Mayor for ‘professional work’.” The statement made Vadim’s face screw up and scowl. “Now... if you know what that usually means from leader types, it’s something they can’t do themselves. It may mean nothing, but I’m beginning to wond-”

Vadim cut him off with a hoof wave and glowered around the bar, speaking in oddly whispering tones. “Careful friend, if there is something foul about this, best to keep close. I know for fact without proof you were shadowed today by the guards. Just by effect of being griffon, I know they might be watching you even more closely if they want you to do ‘laundry work’. Bad enough I caused scene just now, worse if conspiracy talk is overheard.”

For a few seconds Eagle pondered the thought, nodded with a flat face he looked at his moonshine bottle, now nearly empty save for several shots in the bottom. He stared at it with a flux of feelings, like contempt, dread, and even hope maybe somewhere buried in the realization he wasn’t going to stay there long.

He swigged the last of the drink without even an ounce of a shiver with his completely numbed tongue and mouth, and slowly spun his stool around to glower out into the bar. It sat unchanged save for the pile of wooden splinters and glass shards around said splinters; even the ponies that slumbered drooling on each other remained as they were.

The biggest difference was it was hard for him to pick out specific details as they blended together into a sort of blurry blob -despite his normally sharp eyes. He rubbed them with a sluggish talon and looked back at Vadim, speaking slowly with a hint of a slur in his coarse voice. “How much for a room again?”

The yak looked at him appraisingly, and just sighed as he chuckled deeply. The sounds resonated in Eagle’s ears like an echoing drum from a long distance away as his voice cut through his building stupor with the same effect. “Right now? For you? After our little chat you can have room free tonight, only this night though. Can’t let brother get agitated by my boundless generosity.”

Vadim seemed to smile, but Eagle couldn’t really tell with the way his vision wavered. It wasn’t hard to see, necessarily, but hard to focus beyond staying upright in the stool. He made the effort to turn back around in his stool and grab his hat, putting it on cocked to one side at first but straightened it out a bit. The yak laughed with a very reverberating mirth that seemed to shoot through his whole body, now fuzzy and impossibly warm and tingly.

“At least griffon is still conscious after fourth of bottle, I expected you to be drooling on bar by now!” Vadim said, and Eagle just grinned in an uncharacteristic sense of pride and spoke in his slurred voice.

“Didn’t you hear? I am Red Eagle, and no bar will ever defeat m-” he was immediately confused as his entire world shot from looking at Vadim, or trying to rather, to an odd vertical view of the floor with a sudden rising sense of distant pain in his head. He heard some even more distant deep voiced laughing as he laid there taking in the cold semi-clean floor as his world began to swirl away bit by bit. The last thing he heard was the voice of Vadim next to him cackling furiously in a volume even he couldn’t miss as drunk as he was.

“Red Eagle or not, bar or not, floor beat you senseless.”

With a silent agreement of his last faculties, the last of his coherence was washed away by darkness, and in that cold depth he found something strange.

Silent peace.

*** *** ***

Held in stasis for what felt like an eternity he floated there, bodiless in an almost aquatic miasma of thoughtless, formless dreams as distant nebulous stars hung lazily in the ebony haze, he could feel a tinge of distant pain. Heartache perhaps, but their piercing effect was lost like muffled sounds in water within that endless shadowy sea. There was a single, bright but soft orb of brilliant light that rested itself near him, and it cradled him gently and longingly like someone would a lover. He could feel something akin to a kiss on his beak if he had one in that embrace, and a single warm tear from the star that intermingled with one of his own. In that dusky gloom there was only a single question he could mutter to himself.

Why they were crying?

The dull light merely held him tighter in the embrace; the question disappeared in forgotten, indistinct whispers that made him smile.

Then, he truly slept at peace.

Footnote: Red Eagle maximum level

Quest perk achieved – Party Foal

With recent alcoholic adventures with yaks, your limit has been learned the hard way! But you’ve learned a few tricks! You get +25% extra resistance to alcohol’s negative effects and -50% addiction chance! As an added bonus, the effects of the hangover last only half as long!

Chapter 4: By any means

Chapter 4: By any means

Red eagle slowly came back to the conscious world feeling... well, he didn’t know how he felt, other than a bit sore. If he could come up with a word for it, ‘good’ was the closest. Not entirely true, but he was missing one glaring recurrence of his sleeping habits.

The nightmares. He silently thanked whatever hidden powers the moonshine had for driving them away, let him simply sleep despite the curse of its after effects. In his numbed near catatonic state he noticed the hang over wasn’t even that bad, not as he remembered it.

He shifted in his bed, at first lay there motionless until the idea hit him he didn’t remember how he had gotten into a bed in the first place. He sluggishly forced himself upwards and he found himself in a rather well kept room, besides the average level of decay all things in the wasteland wore. The bed itself was... clean. Mostly clean one would say, with large stains in its surface and tears here and there with one small spot looking fresh next to where his face was, presumably his own saliva, but the bed didn’t absolutely reek of mold or stagnant water.

That much he was thankful for. It was bare of sheets or blankets, save for one relatively intact pillow, well crushed after probably decades of use. When he turned in bed to look elsewhere around the room he noticed one thing that made him shoot up in alarm, and that act was met with immediate regret as he over exerted his slightly hung over body; his stomach lurching.

He was only wearing his under armor. His gear, including his pack, battle saddle, coat and hat weren’t on him.

He slowly panned the room, drilling the water damaged concrete walls and the scratched and nicked locker set upon the tiled floor, further on he sighed a breath of relief when his gear was piled neatly on top of a large metal desk in the corner on a wall, across of where he sat in bed. His lethargic pace kept he made his way out of the bed, testing each of his limbs and being satisfied he lumbered over to the desk and inspected his gear. All of it was as he remembered, save for being on his body of course, and next to his hat laid a note in terrible writing, but with some effort he could make it out.

‘Red Eagle, you passed out hard after becoming well acquainted with floor. Put you in room and -very respectfully- took your things off, placed it on desk for you and let you sleep on bed. If you vomit or piss on it, there will be charge, but never mind that. I hope that you didn’t freak out too hard this morning. Or night, whenever you woke up. ~Vadim. P.S. Some guard pony came to ask about you, told him you were indisposed. He wanted to pass message from Mayor but I convinced him to wait until you woke up. Come see me once you are ready.’

He slowly scratched his head as he read the note, half trying to decipher the chicken scratchings and half trying to shake the morning grogginess. The post script is what got his attention with wary alarm. The conversation he had yesterday was still surprisingly fresh in his mind -despite the moonshine he had. This town had a problem with non-ponies, and for a guard bringing a message directly from the Mayor was probably connected to the work offer at the gate from Desse, and more than that with recent revelations that offer screamed a ‘scapegoat’ job like never before.

‘What could a pony like her want from a griffon mercenary?’ the question repeated in his mind, each answer different and darker as the train of thought went. What was worse was if the details were discussed he would be required to do it, or have a brittle hope she would respect his ability to keep it in confidence. She had already shown distrust of Zebras just for the possibility they were Remnant, the group of Zebrican loyalists that Vadim had spoken of before that he recognized. How much distrust would she harbor for a griffon, let alone one of his reputation?

In the end, he just sighed. He figured that either he would take the job if the caps were worth it and hope she’d honor the deal, or have trouble sleeping here in town with one eye open if he refused. The only other option was to leave, the problem being this town’s issues had gotten under his feathers. He didn’t want to ‘solve’ their problems per se, but he felt at least a bit responsible for it having cleared out the raiders a generation ago; the cause and effect of it all irked him.

The mercenary inside him grumbled as he was doing the one thing he learned not to do years ago about places with problems; get attached. It made work easier when it was a cold, clinical process. Go in, do your work, get paid, leave. If a mercenary with his history had to emotionally face their career... they’d never sleep, and this town? He was already attached by a long buried connection slowly resurfacing that changed faces. Once it was hate, now it was becoming liability.

And liability, or responsibility and concern were leagues worse than hate. It made him care.

He scoffed silently as he shook his head with a troubled scowl. First he was hung over, now he was far more concerned as his calloused heart felt something he hadn’t for a long time. Caring about something, and he acquainted the feeling with profound crushing pain.Crystal city itself was built on top of a mass grave that represented the end result of caring, and it was the legacy of the pain he carried every day, buried as it subconsciously festered. He shook his head again and muttered coarsely under his breath as his mind raced from reflection to painful reflection.

“Oooh yeah, coming here was a bad idea.”

Once he calmed down and collected his thoughts after a few minutes, he settled back into mindless routine, numbed by the whole sordid affair by getting dressed in his gear. Once he attached his harness back and settled everything into place, he stretched out his limbs and wings, bones popping as he relaxed.

Taking out his PipBuck and turning it on out of rest mode, the processes sprang to life as the subtle cacophony of electrical and magical systems activated, and when the display beamed on it showed a little animation of cartoonish bombs dropping from the top right corner down to the left bottom one. It was quickly replaced however by the all familiar status screen and its accompanying warnings of the aftereffects of such a night prior. Seeing the time told him he must have slept like a Yao Guai in winter. It read eleven-forty-eight in the morning.

Sighing deeply he put the PipBuck back into rest mode and in its satchel, then fished out one of his canteens and drunk deeply of its steely metallic water. Walking over to the door he put the canteen back into his pack and donned his hat, adjusting its fit as he went. He pushed the door open to find the bar almost as dead as the night before, only with different patrons here and there; it still reeked of the same smells from the night before. The low smoky light and lack of windows helped his strained vision as he trudged over to the bar and found the large yak sitting behind the counter, snoozing delicately with his face buried in a magazine.

Eagle had to suppress a smile as he looked at Vadim, and secretly hated that he would have to wake him up. But he did say come speak with him once Eagle had woken up. Tapping the counter with a talon got nothing from the comatose yak.

“Hey Vadim!” Still nothing, so he rapped the counter harder speaking loudly.“Vadim!!”

The yak burst to life ripped from a deep sleep as he jumped in a stupor, eyes darting this way and that he finally fixed them on Eagle and for a second scowled. It was replaced by a wide grin as he examined him from claws to head, speaking in his usual booming mirth hinted in morning grogginess. “Ah! Griffon friend! You awaken! You don’t look too worse for wear either. Most ponies would look like rad rat shoved through wood chipper after what I saw you drink -can’t hold their liquor!”

Eagle just stood there with a slight grin as the yak marveled at the liquor intolerance of non-yaks, and nodding his head he spoke in a warm and friendly, but coarse voice. “I actually got to sleep last night, first time in a while actually. Feels good.”

Vadim beamed at him, feeling pride. “Well I am glad moonshine works wonders for you, I didn’t even hear anything last night after you met the floor. I take it bed is in good order?” Eagle nodded, and the yak breathed a sigh of relief. “Even better, ponies almost always ruin beds when they get smashed so, never can figure out why.”

After shaking his head, Eagle looked around the bar eyeing the ponies around ensuring none were looking their way or any he could suspect of eavesdropping. Finding none, he turned back to Vadim and locked his eyes on him and spoke in a low tone, half whispering. “So, a guardspony came looking for me? Said so in your note.”

The yak at once matched Eagles expression and spoke as softly as his voice could manage, which was still clearly audible as quiet at the bar was. “Yes, tall grizzled fellow came in and asked to speak with you. He wore typical guard’s barding, the works. He all but refused to leave until I insisted to leave you alone until you wake, said passed out creatures aren’t generally talkative. He wanted to press the issue I think, but left when he came to terms with how liquor does that; even yak with enough. Said to meet with Mayor Madame at earliest convenience.”

Vadim’s eyes and mouth twisted with a subtle hate as he spoke her name, yet looked under the bar and fished out an amber bottle, holding it up to his eyes as if inspecting it. “He said ‘they politely insisted’.” He scoffed as he regarded the bottle “Hare of hound friend?”

Eagle just shook his head and smirked a bit. “No, I’m not that bad off this morning.” He looked toward the door, grumbling to himself before looking back to Vadim. “Thanks though.”

The yak merely shrugged with a smile as he put the bottle back. “Think nothing of it, pony whiskey tastes of shit anyway.”

Eagle gave a little coughing laugh, and stretched inside his armor as he turned around walking down the hall to leave the bar; the overhead lights carving sharp shadows around him. “Here’s hoping I see this place again, I rather like this bar.”

Vadim laughed as Eagle grasped the door handle. “Well, sure it’s the bar or me and my dead beat brother’s shining personalities!?” He asked with outstretched hooves as somewhere deep into the bar a muffled shouting was heard.

Eagle just shook his head with a smile, speaking in a lighter tone than usual. “Eh, it’s part of it. Take care Vadim, give my regards to Mikael.”

“Will do friend, you take care as well and...” Vadim scratched his chin with a hoof, and donned a worried expression. “And be careful with this, it stinks of brahminshit.”

Eagle sighed as he made his peace with whatever would come next within the hour. He hoped it would be simple, something stupid that ended up being an easy pile of caps and him moving on. At the same time his growing care of the town began to eat at him, making him want to stay -to work the caravans maybe. He would have, if he let himself stay in one place for long. Conflicted he battled within himself, yet he set it all aside and shored up his mercenary mind-set; he’ll deal with the problems as they arise, no sense in worrying himself insensate until then.

“I’ll try to be careful.”

With that he opened the door, his dark adjusted eyes momentarily blinded by the midday cloudy sky, and walked from the bar into the façade of a pleasant town. From the long walk that followed to the Mayor’s office the piercing looks he received were completely recognized now, and he felt more of an outsider than ever.

*** *** ***

Mayor Madame’s office, located where Desse had said, was high above the town with a large semi-reflective sheet of glass overlooking the town wearing a smudged image of the skyward overcast. The access lift was a hobbled together elevator of sorts, and its path went from a landing platform that rested directly below and etched its way through the air upwards to meet the office’s entrance. In front of the elevator on the ground was a guard, immensely bored with the posting by the looks of it and were it nighttime, he might have even been asleep.

All that was ripped away at the sight of Red Eagle approaching the platform and he straightened up almost immediately, donning the typical stony face a sentry should wear, but edged with apprehension. Eagle, with his newfound awareness of the town, recognized it immediately, suppressed a scoff and spoke to him.

“Mayor Madame is expecting me?” The guard hesitantly gave a short nod, and held a hoof up to the lift. Eagle eyed it with skeptical eyes, and looked upwards toward the top of the long, treacherous appearing ride. Fixing the guard with a raised brow and flat expression he stretched out his wings a little. “I could fly up there; keep the stress of that lift.”

The guardspony just scowled as he withdrew his hoof. “Don’t do me any favors, feathers. Do whatever, just go see the Mayor.”

Standing there with a scowl Eagle stretched his wings out to their full span, gave a few test flaps and with a mighty beat of his wings went sailing upwards trailing a small cloud of dust behind him. Sailing through the air he held a talon on top of his hat, keeping it secure as his coat flapped furiously on his sides, and the wind blew through his feathers on his face and neck. Reaching the top of the elevator in short time he landed on the platform and settled down, looking outwards to the town below.

From here the stadium was almost distant, detached from the horrors of the wastes as the ponies below carried out their day to day routines; speaking with merchants, going to lunch, or just taking a walk out in the town enjoying relative peace winding through the ripple-like rows of ramshackle buildings. It was like a heart beat as the roofs shined dully from the sickly grayish brown cloud smothered sky. He knew better though, as with his sharp eyes he spotted several ponies below looking upwards to him. All but one of them had an expression of disdain on their faces, and the one was a filly looking star struck by the spectacle, eyes filled with wondrous curiosity.

Eagle smiled at the filly, knowing she couldn’t see it but smiling all the same. He turned back to the doorway behind him and entered Mayor Madame’s office in earnest, and was immediately struck by the disparity between the town’s now apparent poverty when compared the seat of lavish royalty.

Everything he saw looked as if it was freshly made, or polished and scrubbed clean with the fury of a thousand maids. The walls all wore new paint by the looks of it, a sort of amber color, and the clean burgundy carpet below him was a single sheet stretching across the floor uniformly as shiny unblemished cabinets and dressers lay upon it against the walls. In the middle of this office was a desk with an equally, impeccably well-kempt Earth pony mare, wearing a flawless black suit with a styled platinum mane and tail on her burgundy coat, typing away at a refurbished terminal before her.

She looked up from the screen above the spotless lenses in her glasses with a flat expression edged with impatience. She spoke in a light voice that was slightly accented, like a city mare would have, and kept a façade that receptionists held trying to be polite.

“Well, it seems that our visiting professional has finally deigned to accept Mayor Madame’s invitation. I must admit, she is a patient mare but we had expected to see you yesterday Mister Eagle.”

Eagle meandered toward the desk as he examined the room in more detail, and scattered about were pristine pieces of many things; decanters, a small desk fan, picture frames, among other miscellaneous things that in their conditions did nothing but exude monetary power. He had to suppress a scoff at the blatant display of royalty around him, even willing to bet the bedrooms up here were even more immaculate and luxuriant.

He tried to speak politely, yet make it clear he wasn’t interested in bowing to their desires like some lapdog. “I had... things to attend to -supplies to buy and get the lay of the land.” He fixed his eyes on hers and held a smirk. “I’m sure you understand.”

She didn’t change her expression, nor moved an inch maintaining her posture, and spoke flatly with an edge of contempt. “In the name of our town, Crystal; a new arrival should acquaint themselves with the city, it helps to educate them on how things function here.” She put on a shark’s smile that would have set a regular pony on edge, but Eagle knew the game she was playing. “I’m hoping you find your time here... swell, and profitable of course.”

Eagle gave a half laugh and spoke in his low, coarse voice smirking. “Whole reason I’m even here, actually. Profit,” after a few seconds he tilted his head and waved an outstretched talon over the desk “for all parties involved, of course.”

The mare before him seemed pleased as her shark smile loosened to one that actually seemed genuine. She rose from her chair after tapping the terminal’s keys a few times, adjusted her glasses and stood next to the desk itself speaking in a lofty voice. “Well I am glad that we understand each other, I suppose we should go to my ‘office’.”

Eagle raised a brow as she turned around and opened the double doors behind her and entered the space beyond. He followed her as she settled herself into a chaise by a low slung coffee table that had a set of Sparkle~Colas and bottle openers on it. The room itself was in the same condition as the last, clean and everything that could be polished was, and the great window overlooking the town carved in mocking clarity the gap of wealth between the town and the Mayor’s dwellings.

Something turned in Eagle’s stomach, and he couldn’t tell if it was a hidden noble nature beneath his callousness or simply an envy of comfort from a successful career. She motioned a hoof to the chair opposite of her from the table, one with a Sparkle~Cola resting before it. He mentally shrugged and sat, pack and all not bothering to get comfortable.

She tilted her head and regarded him with a mocking tone wearing a smile. “You know you can get at least a little settled, the details of my offer may take some time.”

Eagle sat there for a moment as he fully realized how either paranoid or grand standing Mayor Madame was, surely the townsponies knew who the Mayor was or what she looked like, so it seemed as if she took a bit of pleasure in deceptive games with newcomers; or maybe just with nonponies, flexing her ‘superiority’ on other creatures perhaps.

As politely as he could he shook his head and spoke bluntly. “No worries, I plan on getting to work as soon as possible once I hear your contract. If it’s agreeable of course.”

She gave a soft laugh as she reached for a bottle and an opener, popping the top off and filling the slight windy silence with a fizz and clatter of the cap. Taking a sip of it she delicately smacked her lips, appraising the flavor with a skeptical face ultimately accepting it was amenable. She motioned her hoof to the bottle in front of Eagle with a smile. “Oh, I think the only thing radical of my contract offer is distance. Please, help yourself.”

He nodded his head and tried to pick up the bottle graciously, but with little more than skepticism and surprise when he was met with an ice cold touch. Popping the cap off and setting it down on the table he examined the clean bottle and the opaque amber-brown liquid inside. He smelled the cola and its carroty hints as the bubbles rose inside it, condensation forming on its sides. He sipped it and tasted the drink so many ponies had an unhealthy obsession with, before the war and after. He wasn’t overly impressed with it the first time he drank it years ago, no different than now despite its ice cold soothing nature, but he supposed that carrot soda was a thing for ponies.

Sipping it again he set the bottle down on the table before him and locked eyes with Madame opposite of him, and donned his business face; a flat expression, gauging everything of import or detail she said. “So, the job’s a long distance milk run? Where to?”

She squirmed a little in her chair at the mention, and perhaps the over simplification of the task; her smile fading in the motion. She sighed and turned around to face a wall that held a massive map behind her, it showed in simple but accurate detail of continental Equestria, from the deserts of the Badlands far south to the snowy peaks of Yakyakistan far in the northern mountains and all locations in between on the continent once considered the unofficial domain of the Princesses of yore, regardless of influence or power in those places.

She panned down to the left side of the map, gazing longingly and fearfully at the south-western corner as Eagle judged where her eyes lingered. His feathers began to itch at the thought. She spoke in a hesitant, but hopeful voice. “Have you heard of... Hoofington?”

She didn’t turn around with the question and Eagle’s face, despite being even and flat, twisted subtly as his mind was now coming up with a thousand ways this job was getting worse by the minute. An assassination job involving torture in the market place sounded more pleasant. He spoke flatly with little more than hearsay on the place. He hadn’t been there before, and never wished to with his old exploits in the south.

“Enough to give it a wide berth, Hoofington has a tendency of killing anything that goes in there and an even nastier habit of turning the survivors into insane raiders.” She turned around in her chair and tried to keep a smile as she looked into his eyes that drilled the respective spot on the map, but she knew his words were true, if not far from fully summarizing the horror The Hoof held. Eagle continued though, his beak twisting into grimaces. “From what I heard though the whole region is tainted far worse than most other places. I’m not even talking just literally taint or radiation itself.”

She gave a stifled laugh with a face etched with intimately grim understanding. “Oh, believe me. I know full well. I’ve lost more than a few caravans going that way and the horror stories were believed to the wild imaginings of a chem addict at first. The only threat I prepared my ponies for were an obscene number of raiders, but when all hooves are lost or return addled out of their wits it tends to make a believer out of somepony.”

He cocked his head with a scowl as he tried to grapple with the thought of trudging down there, the raiders themselves numbered in the hundreds easily. That didn’t even take into consideration the other just as deadly threats that laid there. It supposedly sat as Equestria’s technological center, and arguably one of the fronts against Zebrica back before The War’s end, and it held a majority of their prewar advances and was home to a massive wave of corporations that specialized in creating and using all sorts of innovations -almost all geared towards helping Equestria win the war at home and on the field. That meant war machines, like robots for the immediate hostilities and defense tech like magic shields and even more that Eagle couldn’t possibly begin to list it all; ‘thankfully’ he thought.

Taint seemed to fester and spread there as well in its entire realm of mysterious mutating terror, and radiation soaked into the soil by the staggering amount of balefire missiles that the Zebras fired at it, torching and killing the land almost entirely. The worst of all was this... odd and completely enigmatic type of radiation he had only heard whispers of from the few, truly cracked survivors.

A life sucking, flesh melting type of radiation in the worst concentrations that no creature, no pony, zebra, griffon, or otherwise knew how it worked or what caused it. It just was in that hellscape, exclusively as well adding to its mystery, and he wondered to this day why any creature even bothered to go there. Let alone live there like the raiders did.

With a grim expression, he locked eyes with Mayor Madame. “You do understand... if I’m to go into The Hoof, milk run or not, my rates just went up?”

She gave a vaguely insulted look with a smirk. “Trust me Mister Eagle, with the ponies offering this job caps are not an issue in the slightest.”

He cocked a brow at her and shifted in his chair. “You mean you aren’t fronting the caps for this?”

She shook her head and sipped on her drink. “No, I’m not. If I’m to send anyone into The Hoof it’s for something much more substantial, but my contact... they gave me a contract offer and told me to fulfill it how I saw fit. Seems to me, marching an army of guards into The Hoof would end tragically both here and there, we need the force to keep our own city safe and Hoofington as you said has a tendency to play the role of meat grinder.

“The only other option is sending either a team of ponies there who could stay alive, but I haven’t a single real survivor who could make The Hoof, let alone a number of them I could spare.” She shifted in her chaise and looked long outside the window behind Eagle at her city with displeased eyes, but the fear edged her expression that if anypony here could survive that place she would be in a deeper dilemma. “What I need... is a professional. Your reputation has it you’ve survived countless ordeals that I shan’t detail as I’m sure I needn’t recount them; least of all to you. In the end I’m getting a massive shipment of caps for this and I’m going to pay you a staggering amount of it to do a delivery job.”

Eagle stretched within the confines of his armor, his body getting achy from sitting upright in the chair. His curious expression locked with her matter of factly tones, simple and direct yet gravelly. “Thing is, there is nothing simple about The Hoof, delivery job or not. What’s the package I’m to get?”

She donned a level and dangerous look that failed to put Eagle on edge, it only intrigued him on how sensitive it seemed. “The package itself will be kept in confidence; you’ll eventually figure it out once you’re there but until then I’ll have to keep that a secret.” She took the last sip from her Sparkle~Cola and set the empty bottle onto the table with a nearly silent glass thump on wood.

“You will be meeting with a team of pegasi, Enclave group who will deliver the package to you inside of The Hoof. They can’t facilitate delivery themselves since Enclave politics have apparently escalated between their settlements; some damnable treaty keeps the local garrison from taking the package where it needs to go. They don’t want to risk discovery, among other paranoid things... like diseases or overblown Wasteland horrors to keep them docile.”

She frowned as if in deep thought about the subject. Most, if not all ponies, despise the Enclave for what they’ve done over the century, starting with abandoning Equestria to The Wasteland’s troubles. On average though the only sign of their interference, or lack there of in most cases, was the massive blanket of clouds that draped the sky, hiding the sun and moon and all celestial signs like the planets and stars beyond Equus.

Eagle knew of the Enclave and the stories surrounding them, but didn’t care about them as much as your average wastelander beyond being a possible threat. Heavily armed and armored with a penchant for pristine prewar technology that makes all the best engines and firearms down below look like hamster wheels and cap-guns.

“That being said, the mission is simple, despite the scenery. Grab the package, and bring it here to Crystal City within a few month’s time, I’m certain that there is some time frame leniency but shoot for two at the most; I know there’s a lot of ground to cover between here and The Hoof. A down payment of two thousand caps will be given to you now to help equip you for the journey, payment in full of eight thousand when delivery has been completed. My contacts will handle it from there.”

Eagle just kept a level gaze at her, despite his desire to go wide eyed and cough in disbelief, wondering why such an amount of caps was being paid for what was essentially a jaunt across The Wastes; yes The Hoof was dangerous and he considered it hazard pay, the time frame left out sightseeing as well, but something else niggled at him. The cloak and dagger set him on edge the most. “Why can’t I deliver the package directly to them? Paying this much money they’re stopping short.”

She just grinned and sighed. “The employer values their secrecy; suffice to say them contacting me was a surprise enough, the contract itself and the caps it offered more so.”

He sighed as well and cocked his head. “I don’t usually take a contract unless I know the name on the check. Who’s fronting the caps?”

Her expression changed into a dangerous glower, but softened a bit by the reasonable question and donned a smirk. “I am, the employer asked me to do the job and I’m hiring you to do it for me. Consider Crystal City as the name on your metaphorical check, that’s the best I can give you.”

Eagle scowled and sighed deeply, contemplating if he was really going to do this or not. In one talon he had what he wanted, a job with a nice, nay... beyond nice payout at the end; a simple delivery job that would be a somewhat short distance all things considered. The only blemish in that whole scenario was a trek down past the Canterlot Mountain range -a problem in and of itself for reasons five years in standing- and then down through to The Hoof; a nasty no pony’s land that ate the unprepared for breakfast.

In the other talon he had no work, broke as can be with no wind in his sails to take him to the next town and hope for the best. It left a sour taste in his mouth thinking about it. Mentally resigning to the idea, and building conviction that he would be experiencing that hellscape first talon, he nodded slowly as he sat up straighter. “Alright, consider it on my plate.”

Her beaming smile shot through her glower and she practically levitated above the chaise in glee. “Excellent! I know you will manage to get the job done; the name Red Eagle has a reputation for being one of the best mercenaries one could hire!”

She got off her seat and pranced over to the wall behind her and she solidly thumped a piece of it with her hoof, and with a resounding metallic clang from within a well sized cubby hole opened up, revealing a polished steel safe behind it. She fiddled with the safe, inserted a key from her suit and the shiny face opened to reveal a cavity inside filled by a beige burlap sack the size of a pony’s head. Taking the sack with a bite she trotted over to the table again and set the sack down as the ever familiar cling of bottle caps accompanied it.

“Two thousand caps to give you a taste of the final reward; spend it how you please of course and... well, preferably here in town. I’m sure Crystal City will have all the supplies you need to prepare for the journey. Ammo, rations, even tune up your gear if you wish.”

Eagle stared at the sack with a mixture of feelings -surprise being one- but a slight bit of avarice inside him flustered. His money problems would soon be over if the job was successful. It almost felt like larceny for something so simple, but then he remembered the mystery package itself. What could be worth that much?

He snapped himself from the thoughts and looked up at Madame with his ever tried and true flat mercenary expression. “I’ll definitely be checking the market later; that much wealth is dangerous to carry around The Wasteland anyways.”

Her beaming smile curled into one that Eagle had acquainted with a crime boss salivating at a mountain of wealth. He had expected it, and surely the town would drain these caps out of him with the costs anyways.

“Remember, you have two months to get the package here. I’m certain that you won’t disappoint.” She fished around in her suit with a hoof pulling out a piece of folded up paper extending it to him. "Here are the coordinates for the drop off, I’m sure you have a map of some sort?"

He nodded his head and took the paper in his talon. "Yeah, I can find the spot. Don't worry."

She nodded with a smile again. "Very good, safe travels and have a good day in our marketplace!"

With a courteous nod of his head, eagle picked up the sack and slung it onto his back as Mayor Madame turned around and entered a doorway next to the large map on the wall, closing the door firmly behind her.

Staring at the expanse between Crystal City and The Hoof it was nearly five hundred plus miles’ journey straight there, yet the caravan travel marks indicated an average estimation, along the shortest route, to be twenty eight days. With him going alone and bursts of flying he could shave it down considerably if the package was easy to haul, and provided he could avoid any fights with the locals or get bogged down by anything like radiation or taint he guessed the fastest he could get this over with was in the ball park of forty days.

This all hinged on his luck at being able to trek out there and back with no complications however, and it didn’t even bother to factor in the package itself, which could be anything from a small disk drive to a crate of experimental weapons, he couldn’t begin to guess what would be worth a down payment of two thousand caps, let alone the full payment of eight thousand.

Shaking the thought, he looked at the empty space that encompassed The Hoof on the map; devoid of any warnings or hazard markings in that almost blank space to the south. Scoffing a bit at the map’s blatant ignorance, his memories of that place weren’t pretty to say the least. His old... entourage, before he came north, had heard only tales of The Hoof’s problems. Mayor was right though, that they all sounded like a chem addict’s wild imaginings. Mad raider gangs that slaughter each other for resources, cannibal ‘clans’ among them eating anything that moved, tunnels upon tunnels that sprawled out in all directions -usually with killer robots patrolling them.

All of that skirting the enormous and strangely intact glowing green city that spat out ‘super-radiation’ apparently with still active defense turrets placed in the middle of the plains the bowl of mountains created.

Shaking his head he turned from the seemingly wild speculation and made his way to the landing with the elevator, securing the caps better he spread his wings to glide down to the ground below. The sun behind the clouds illuminated the city’s rows of shacks below in a pale light, and off in the distance Eagle saw an encroaching thunderstorm as the wall of distant shadow covered grey and massive bolts of harsh, pale green lightning lazily rolled over the landscape. Their subtle but audible thunder beat steadily like a deep bellowing war drum, like they were beckoning him.

Staring off into the maelstrom with squinted eyes it set him on edge, but then again storms were almost always bad news regardless. He mentally shrugged and looked down into the city, gave his wings a few test flaps stretching the lethargy from them, and leapt down gliding towards the market square below.

The wind blew through his feathers and coat, and in his ears the whistling gave him a small comfort. For up here in the sky the problems of the land seemed to disappear and he could lose himself in the sensation. He knew it wasn’t for long though, as all things in the wasteland, regardless of their strength to remain above, will eventually come down to the sodden ground below.

Once it does, it typically comes down hard.

*** *** ***

Outside of the Crystal City the following morning was a bleak and hazy one. The air was filled with the moist aftertaste of an absolute downpour that frequented the wasteland. The ground was soft and mushy as puddles of water turned into mud with the damp soil from a nights beating of heavy rain. The sky was dark as the tail of the storm passed over to the west beyond the City standing defiantly with blackened silver spires rising in the plains of rolling decay.

His pack was heavier than he was used to, but well stocked for the journey with the essentials for a job like the one he was doing. Plenty of ammunition for his magnum and rifle if there was to be a firefight on the trail, which he counted on eventually. The Equestrian military rations he picked up were also well worth the caps in general to get, if you could stomach the idea of eating a century old preserved meal in plastic wrap that is.

Beyond that, he got his armor looked at and patched up for a modest fee since the riot armor itself held up well to damage. Nothing short of a shot that would cripple Eagle would really damage the broad metal plates in the suit, and the Kevlar plates were relatively inexpensive since Equestria pumped out hundreds of thousands of them before the bombs; it made the salvage market for them reasonably cheap. He even got his overcoat patched and stitched up, which twisted his face into a solemn blankness.

It was the reminder he carried of why he wandered in the first place, the reason for his pains and heartaches. ‘It came with the badge’ is what he heard over and over in his head from his memories of his old group as they walked the distance between what was once home and Crystal City. They all tried in some fashion to deal with the grief, and almost all of them failed miserably, save Gren. He dealt with it in vengeance, leading the rest with him on his path of destruction.

All too late did Red Eagle discover that blood wouldn’t bring them back -or her back.

Shaking the reflection free, he looked back at Crystal City realizing the true depth of his foolishness. The old tomb, while it flowed with new, arguably better life, it was still haunted by the ghosts of his past. The roads and corners in one reality were empty or inhabited by relatively happy ponies oblivious to the second reality, a hazy memory of desperate battle and corpses lining the streets. Corpses of ponies he had struck down in rage as their ghosts flashed images of their rent bodies in his eyes, and he passed them all by like a specter of death an age later admiring his handiwork. Only he held in his heart the regrets of a lifetime, enough to drown the griffon he was once.

The worst ghosts of all, were the ones that people like Desse or Vadim has stirred. Emotions of joy or pleasure, even friendship that had long atrophied inside of Eagle’s breast ached to life that brought with them the pains of reminiscence, the sting of lament that crowned a mountain of death like a shadow of disappointment.

‘It came with the badge’ echoed again in his mind in a dull and low rasping voice edged with chattering bare teeth.

‘You have to let go’ whispered in the back of it all in a sweet as honey voice, and like a dispelling resonance the smog of reflection faded. Hanging his head he would have cried there, if he had any tears left to shed. They were all shed decades ago -only a stony calloused heart remained.

After a few minutes he raised his head, his mind wasn’t clear but he knew the only way to break the miasma was to do what he had always done. Turn his talons and paws to the road, and trudge onward until that road ended. He couldn’t do more than that for the dead.

Footnote: Red Eagle maximum level

Chapter 5: Desert Wind

Chapter 5: Desert Wind

As the days went by, things were mindless or routine in a spectacular fashion. Nothing but the desert winds of the wide and expansive Wastelands around him howled and whispered during the journey to the southern border -not even gangs to face and no varmints to slay. A true no creature’s land is what he traversed for the past five and a half days, and he quite silently relished in the lack of civilization; despite the natural hardships it brought.

He was, in a word, bored. Thankfully of course, but after days of trotting with bursts of flying when he felt up to the exertion in the open desert was all he did while passing by the small destroyed tombs of towns that were few and far between in the raw open Wasteland.

It did little for his thoughts as they wandered into reflection. This was, as many would call it, the breath before the plunge; the long, uneventful journey across hundreds of miles before heading into the truly perilous expanse that threatened consumption of all who dared tread there.

Worst of all, he was heading directly into that metaphorical storm.

For the entire trek so far, Red Eagle had at least once during the day mused at his foolishness for heading back to Crystal City, taking the job, despising his need for caps, and in an odd fashion the fact that the south had been barred from him going on ten years now. He looked back at the time with amusement as he remembered why.

In those times, one could have called him a professional ‘soldier-for-hire’ if they felt poetic, but both his and his unit’s checkered pasts ruined it as some old wounds were splayed open, and he took to vigilante justice for the second time in his life, as if by clockwork, and once again found the same results.

He merely scowled grimly at the reflections, and buried them as fast as they came. In the end he figured a single griffon wouldn’t attract attention in the south, especially if he made a beeline for his objective and bolted, but he never had a reason good enough to test his limits. Nevermind such a limit as the one he had placed by others.

When such a time arose when he was done chastising himself about that, he repeatedly went over the supposed dangers of The Hoof, all of which were effectively up in the air as it was one place he’d never been to before; for proper cause.

Being soaked in Radiation and Taint, The Hoof was off-limits to him, even without his prior associations. Both of them may have been two birds of different colors, but getting doused in large doses of either was a danger altogether. With radiation, all one needed was a Rad-Counter of some sort to detect the magical invisible waves in the environment, and a dose of RadSafe to block or RadAway to purge worked wonders against it -provided they were taken quickly. Taint though -the viscous and glowing rainbow hued sludge- was usually contained in large barrels, or collected in pools visible to even a complete fool, and it was far more problematic that radiation, but easier to avoid perhaps.

Direct contact did terrible things to any creature unfortunate to get touched, as he had seen the violent mutations himself that happened in seconds. The least of which were named ‘taint tumors’ that nothing short of an invasive surgery would begin to help -not RadAway, healing potions, or even healing spells from unicorn doctors would scratch taint apparently- and they killed quickly depending on the dose the victim received. The worst of its affects however were almost indescribable.

For lack of a better explanation, you’d know a taint fiend when sighting one. And you will wish whatever poor creature it was had died before twisting into such an abomination.

Beyond that he was going in dark, all but ignorant of the place, and the one thing that he felt was the most dangerous -aside from kicking a hornet’s nest of dozens of raiders. ‘Super-Radiation’ or not, the supposed constant gang wars there kept on a simmer would kill as surely as some mysterious field of life sucking death.

In the end he shook the gloomy distractions from his mind and focused again on the road ahead, or at this point railroad would be precise. For the past day he had been trotting alongside a set of tracks after passing the violently gushing Neighagra Falls two days ago, as his PipBuck had claimed it was called. With little in the way of any truly large prewar ruins around, the path was long and uneventful. Much like the rest of his trip so far, but with every fall of his limbs paranoia bit by bit began to settle.

He remembered on his map of a few towns that he wanted to use as way stations to resupply, and they were named as ‘Rambling Rock’ and ‘Dodge City’. He heard of them a long while ago, but paranoia agitated his thoughts as he continued to wonder what states the towns were in. Chief among them were their continued existence, yet others followed suit like ‘were they clear?’ or ‘did they even have trade worth the trouble?’; he did not know of course, but his mind wouldn’t stop regardless.

He figured that he would discover in time, only the way he had gotten used to his wanderings had shaven it all down to the hair’s breadth. He wanted -needed- to know of any place’s condition for survival’s sake; despite his ‘winging it’ nature he had gained over the years. He hated taking chances, yet took them all the time.

And presently, that very nature fueled his trotting agitations -his furrowing brow. Southwards he headed, into a storm that he was forced to leave long ago, and he wanted to go there and head back all together. In the end he simply groaned in his musings, clasped his mind down for the day and slept in his impromptu camp site; naught more that a nameless ruin in the middle of The Wasteland.

*** *** ***

It wasn’t until the eleventh day on the road that Red Eagle finally saw what his desert weary eyes were looking for. A town, or a village or hovel of scrap -he didn’t care presently- in the distance. He had to check his map to ensure it wasn’t merely a mirage to his eyes, but thankfully the warmer southern climates weren’t messing with him much at all as he saw it on the horizon clearly enough. The town, according to his PipBuck as he needed reminding, was called ‘Rambling rock’, and his somewhat anorexic packs begged for a topping off. Last he checked it was a small farming village and did a little trading between surrounding settlements, yet it was for the most part self reliant and sufficient.

As he kept walking forward though, his eyes kept darting to his sides at noises -or as he started thinking imagined ones. Paranoia continued to eat at him as every creak and snapping dried twig made him think some pony... nay, some griffon was on his six.

He wasn’t welcome here, and every mile he cut down into the south was another mile against him. He wasn’t afraid of a single griffon of course, but all it took was one to call down two dozen.

*** *** ***

At the border of the town, he looked down the spot welded scrap metal walls, which all melded together as a strange sandy beige color, of the town called ‘Rambling Rock’. It was large, or larger than most rather than other Wasteland settlements that Eagle had seen -especially up north. Only this town was... different, in a strange fashion; closer to the heart of Equestria maybe, or simply more secure than he was used to seeing.

It was impressive enough he figured, and as he approached the main gate a guard stallion, garbed in nothing but a ragged burlap tunic and rusty bolt action rifle on his ‘battle saddle’, hoisted his weapon with an eye given promise of violence toward violence, the other eye patched in black.

“Been a while since we saw a griffon ‘round ‘ere, stranger... where’s you from anyhow?” The pony asked gruffly, with somewhat of a friendly face. Eagle tried to keep his best ‘first impressions’ expression.

“Around; I’m looking to do trading.”

“Well...” the stallion said, shrugging “if you’re square with us, you can trade as much as yah want. Though, I must admit there ain’t much in the way of that ‘ere.”

“How so?” Eagle said with a level expression, but the guardspony just shrugged, looking off to the side he sighed, and he assumed a dour look.

“Times are tough; scavenging’s been thin for decades, the harvest’s hurt by the drought, the usual decline over the years. Ought to know that if you’re from ‘around’ though, so nothing of news.”

Eagle had to keep himself from shaking his head as the pony shrugged. He eyed off into town, their well in the center with rusty metal shacks trailing off into sporadic directions, a few ponies here and there all mulling about their daily routines. They all wore pretty much the same getups, worn burlaps tunics with a few in scavenged coats or shirts, and the town as a whole seemed to Eagle to be yet another random dive-in town for desperate folk on the road to bigger and better things.

“You’ve got my condolences then, Stranger.” Eagle said as he nodded to himself, happy in a strange way that the town was the way it was. In a word, backwater -away from prying eyes.

The guardspony shrugged again, only now looking off to the east. “Your pity ain’t much use to get maize or fruit to grow, but it’s nice to hear.”

“Another thing, actually.” Eagle said as he took a few steps forward, pretending to admire the scenery. “I was wondering if there’d be any work in town -for a gunslinger, I mean.”

“Hmph, a griffon merc; who’d-a-thunk-it? Not very bright either it seems. The town barely has the caps to scrap together for much of nothin’, so we ain’t got the money for jobs to mercs. Not even Piles.”

“She your mayor?”

“He -and the best we got for one I guess. Ain’t much of a mayor since he’s little more than a liquor drinkin’ buffoon. Might as well get it outta your head now wanderer; ain’t no work for nopony ‘ere, unless you like picking dead fields.”

“Alright then.” Eagle sighed as he moseyed off into town, but didn’t get far as the guardspony turned around and spoke up.

“Actually stranger... there may be -and I do mean may be- some luck for yah down south a ways. Place the name of ‘Dodge City’, maybe seventy miles south. Always a few fellas there looking for help actually.”

Eagle thought it over for a moment, eventually figuring that Dodge City might be a better option in the end to stop at. All depending on their economics of course. “What do they have for trade?”

“Heh, more than we got, that’s for sure. They ain’t strictly a farm town, and though the drought’s hittin’ them they got more in the way of proper stores. We’re more of a ‘village’ in comparison. Nothin’ better than slave fodder if you ask me.”

Eagle’s mind caught on the mention of the slave trade; a heinous, yet persistent trade of flesh for any purposes between labor and carnal pursuits. Even were it not for random slaving bands of raiders he remembered that Appleloosa was somewhat close by, and a small ring of slaving masters made their home there. He had experience with... ‘severe complications’ with slavery before, and should he wish to continue his incognito status he should keep his reactions in check.

“Hmph.” Eagle quietly grunted, trying to forget the amount of slavers that lived in the south. His blood began pumping hotter at the notion. “So try down south at Dodge City?”

“If your canteen can take it I’d ditch Ramblin’ soon as you’re able. Goddesses know I would.”

With that, Eagle nodded, sighed, and head back out into The Wasteland to the south, in search of Dodge City with a sour taste in his mouth. The perfect town for laying low didn’t have the one thing he needed. Food.

*** *** ***

It took him three days to reach the town that the guardspony spoke of, and even at this distance he silently thanked the stallion for his advice. It may have taken him on a wild goose chase after food, having hunted some bizarre mutant creature to preserve his non-perishables, but the town didn’t disappoint at first glance. From outside the city gate he saw far more ponies bustling to and fro within, and with a relieved glance he saw brahmin cattle.

If a town could keep cattle alive and well, for whatever reason, then there must be something here for him to barter with. A job to get the caps necessary to trade for properly shelf-stable food was all he needed, and hopefully this Dodge City would have what he needed. All he needed to do first was find the pony who was looking for help. Then he might be able to get the ball rolling.

As he approached the main gate, which was little more than stacked chariots, a single pony, a stallion garbed in some hodgepodge barding of combat armor and leather approached him, hoisting his rusty, but functional, rifle towards him. Another guardspony, yet seemingly far better equipped than the last town’s.

“What’s your business here griffon?”

The pony spoke in a somewhat polite voice, Eagle had to credit him that much. He shrugged a little a spoke. “Here to do some trading, if you’ll have me; also looking for some work.”

“Trading’s fine with us -that’s our thing here- but ‘work’ can often be... subjective, what’re you looking for?”

“Anything that needs a gun privy griffon, or maybe some short distance Wasteland excursions.”

“Ah, alrighty then. Well I know that Dark Water’s got an offer for something you might be interested in, but others in town like the Saloon might be offering work. Wouldn’t recommend the latter though; you seem a bit ‘professional’ for that.” He chuckled, shifting in his armor with a more relaxed stance. “Either way, I’d recommend chatting with him -our mayor Dark Water. He’s in a store up the road a ways, can’t miss him. Got a hard look, like yours.”

“I’ll be sure to check with him, see what he’s got.” The mention of a store caught his ears, and he was spurred to ask about it. “This store, does it have any provisions; food, water, the works?”

“Yeah it does, and even though we’re in a small drought Dark ought to be fair with you; he doesn’t have it in him to be cruel with barter -shrewd maybe, but not cruel.”

“Then he’s the first I’m to speak with then. Thanks”

“No problem, mister...?”

“The name’s Bartus.”

“Okay mister ‘Bartus’, welcome to Dodge City.”

As Eagle wandered into town he felt a deep twinge of pain in his chest at his choice of false name. The choice on the spot left him staggering mentally. He had always chosen that name if he needed to keep his anonymity, out of reflex, but taking his adoptive father’s name felt... wrong to him every time. He wouldn’t choose his old name -that griffon was long since dead in a mountain of vengeance- yet his father’s felt no more morally superior in any fashion.

The griffon had been a beacon in his younger years, a light and hope for his people, and the griffon that Eagle used to be was little more than a dreamer wishing to reach his greatness. Unfortunately, history had proven him, and many others, wrong, and here he was lifting names from the dead to mask his path ahead like a snake. And a snake he was, ironically, slinking back to the south despite all.

Shaking his head he saw ahead of him the distracting town of Dodge City. It was built into an old ruin, as usual, and the history of the place’s exploits seemed to go entirely unnoticed, yet mimicked in a smaller scale honorific, by the seemingly massive populace as they bustled about to and fro. The city itself, according to what Eagle knew and pieced together, was a pre-War city devoted to Equestrian commerce, and the multitude of blocks that railroads crisscrossed into massive train yards confirmed it to any creature caring enough to know.

This place was once a major artery for the nation, a central location for all the rest to feed off of, yet it obviously wasn’t enough as the merchants now dealt in their little hovels and huts as opposed to the mightiest of yore across thousands of miles. Cars of massive and motionless locomotives sat on the rails, and they housed the merchants of today as they peddled their wares from a great swath of modified cars, and the breadth of their merchandise exceeded even Eagle’s expectations as one’s owner loudly offered something called ‘griffon pinion creams’; made from genuine cat, rad-rat, and radigator oils no less.

The ridiculousness of the main bazaar left him agitated; the amount of noise and background chatter setting him on edge. In the end though, such a town ought to have what he needed in trade. If this ‘Dark Water’ had work, then with a town this size he may be able to front the caps necessary for his continued survival. He hoped anyways, as he neared the one building that had the pony’s name painted in black broadly across one of its outside walls.

He entered, shaking the dust from his ensemble before entering, and found himself in a far quieter space of town, seemingly insulated from the outside din. There stood a few ponies perusing wares, a few guards in metal plated leather jackets, and another, far more hard in expression yet soft in an understanding way that stood apart from them. He wore a simple grey jacket of sorts over his dark blue coat, stood tall amongst the rest of the ponies in there with a decently well kempt and short charcoal mane, and the most unique fact among the rest was he was the only one with wings.

That fact alone set Eagle on edge a touch. Very few Wastelanders had wings, most of them either griffon mercenaries or pegasi, who were all practically guaranteed to be dashites; rebels against the Pegasus Enclave, branded and never to return. As Eagle peered at his flanks, he found the pony had just such a brand, open and proud was a cloud and lightning bolt shaped in the scar tissue of burns over whatever cutie-marks he had once -it was the Enclave favored method of exile- and he felt a distant sympathy for the stallion.

That stallion caught Eagle’s sideways glace, and donned a sad half smile of sorts, approached him and sighed before speaking in a lightly accented southern ponies’ tones. “Well howdy there stranger, don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of speaking to you.”

“Don’t think you would’ve. I’m new in town.” Eagle said, donning a small smile of his own as he nodded. “Came in from the west looking for work; I heard you have some.”

“How does some random griffon merc -that’s never been to Dodge City mind- know that I’m Dark Water?”

“To be fair the building has your name on it,” Eagle said, yet his smile receded to a hard, understanding glare “that and the guardspony at the main gate said you’ve got a hard look about you; got to be with that brand.”

At first, Dark Water wanted to hide it out of reflex, but bearing it as a mark of pride he nodded, understanding that the griffon before him somewhat understood his history. Relief became his expression as he fluttered his wings, relieved of the standard ignorance of The Wastes, and he twisted around to the shrewdness of business dealing. “So... you where looking for work then? I’ve got a job but it requires a touch of delicacy.”

“Delicate is how I roll, unless you want loud and noisy.”

“No, oh no we don’t,” Dark said smiling, trying to contain laughter “What I want is somepony -or some creature- able to figure out the plans of a certain gang around here. If you haven’t noticed, gangs like to wander around here in a bad way. I’d like to remove them, one in particular, but that would require evidence. Enough to convince the Council anyways.”

“Gangs eh? I haven’t noticed them but I’ve only been in town for less than an hour.” Eagle found it ironic that gangs seemed to crop up anywhere that ponies settled, like an infection and always causing problems. He had to suppress the urge to comment on how he expected it of larger towns as Dark spoke up again, sighing.

“Yeah... gangs are a nuisance around these parts. Not as much down south, but equally dangerous if you’ve a mind for potential dangers I suppose. I’ve been trying to get our local government to deal with ‘em but, ah... the gears of bureaucracy don’t like to turn, if you catch my meaning.”

“Perfectly, actually.” Eagle said, to which Dark Water smiled slightly.

“Good, then you know that the fact imminent problems are looming over us, yet the ‘peace-keepers’ are too busy with their day to day to bother dealing with threats, annoys me!” he raised his voice a smidgeon, and calmed himself before speaking again. “Ahem... anyways, yes; I’d like for you to head to the derelict part of town and eye out the gangs for me. A look-see is what I’m asking for, not your life. If you find anything, then awesome, if not, then I’ll accuse you of not looking. I know they’re up to something, I know it, but I can’t lay a hoof on it yet.”

He started to mumble to himself before he shook his head, fixed his eyes on Eagle with a hard stare and spoke again. “The name of the gang in question is ‘The Skulls’. Pretty standard bunch, ragged and all with more credence to gang bonds than any effectiveness, yet their activities have left a good deal to be desired. The chem trade’s shot up -which I suspect they’re running a manufacturing operation- and such a business threatens to weaken the rest, understand?”

“Sort of, having an under-market doesn’t bode well for general market health. Especially if that market has anything Illegal.”

Dark Water had to contain a touch of surprise, yet he shook his head and spoke plainly. “Dodge City doesn’t have laws against chems yet, even though it should. I ain’t one to coddle broken wheels, if you catch my meaning, but the rest of town doesn’t care much about it. If they want to catch buzzes and be productive then I’m happy I guess.” He shook his head again, sighing. “Yet that ain’t the case. We’ve got more than two dozen or so ponies in town chasing breezies in smoke rather than actually working. The gangs keep supply up, and-”

“Alright Dark Water,” Eagle said, shaking his head “I don’t need to be convinced, I just need specifics on the job. Like my payment for example.”

“Ah, right. Ahem.” He cleared his throat and looked around, picked up a water canteen from a nearby table and took a swig. “Sorry, I’ve been fuming on this for a while, but your right. The job will pay one fifty in caps, unless you see something you like out of my store for a similar price. I’m willing to pay in goods, I ain’t fickle about it.”

“Most of what I’m interested is preserved foods. Canned goods or military rations, things I can squirrel away and have them keep for a while. Can’t eat caps on the road.”

“Yeah, ain’t that the truth. I got some of that; old dusty box of army rations in the back.” Dark said, nodding. “If you can find out anything I’ll give you the box, I think there’s somewhere around nine or ten packs in there, haven’t checked in a while. Ponies ain’t much of a fan of them when we’ve got proper farming and cattle, some hunters as well, but army rations are still useful.”

“Sounds good,” Eagle said, extending a talon “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Alright then, mister?” Dark said holding out a wing, a feather extended. “Don’t think I ever caught your name.”

“Bartus.” Eagle said, suppressing a grimace.

“Alright Bartus. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.” He said, nodding as he shook Eagle’s Talon with his wing. “Oh, and the part of town they squat in is south of here. Old-Town’s gang territory, so mind yourself.”

“Always do.”

*** *** ***

In Old-Town, past the last of the merchant cars, the eastern farming districts and the residential sections surrounding it, half the homes being more train cars and the other half being actual huts built from wood and spot welded metal sheets, Red Eagle began to see the digression between the wealth of the town to the true squatter’s ruins. He’d seen it before in nearly every major town he visited. The bulk of Old-Town was rubble strewn and a fine example of Equestrian degradation, not to mention an utter lack of the previous districts’ presences.

It felt like a whole new place, only separated by chain-link fences, and the ponies that mulled about seemed to match his description of what the downtrodden of a town should look like. Ragged clothes covering taut fleshed ribs, vacant stares that showed chem use followed by several that huddled together in alleyway corners. He had to suppress the urge to shake his head as it seemed that these ponies were merely the product of their kind’s habit of making these types of places.

“Alright,” he said quietly “If I were a gang member pushing chems and bathtub booze, where’d I hide?”

He recounted the name of the gang, ‘The Skulls’ Dark Water had said, and figured the best thing to do would be to find some graffiti or ponies with distinguishing marks. Often times gangs would tag their ‘territory’ or themselves with easy to understand symbols, and a big pony skull seemed appropriate. Especially if they were illiterate, which he guessed they would be.

Over the course of twenty minutes or so, he had seen several smaller gangs he assumed. Ragged, in similar states as the average squatter in town yet and edge of collectiveness distinguished them from the rabble. He avoided them where he could, not wanting any of them foolish enough to attack him. More trouble than it was worth in his eyes. Eventually, however, he found something that caught his eye. A chem dealer he figured, the unicorn pony stood in the entrance of an alleyway leaning against the blasted brick wall. The detail that caught his eye was the heavily stitched together brown leather jacket with a poorly embroided skull on a shoulder.

He went over it in his head, and wondered if it’d be possible to play this a certain way. He screwed up his face, going over different iterations before shrugging and going with his gut. He approached the pony, suppressing the urge to smile.

“Hey,” Eagle said, trying his best first impression “I heard you guys sell chems around here.”

“Well... ain’t yah just a blunt bird?” The gang member said, cackling with a contorted face. “Even if I did, whatsit to yah?”

“I’m representing an... interested party. Looking to make a bulk purchase for wares.”

“Really?” the gang member said, raising a brow with a skeptical expression. “What, did Motley put yah up to this? Old mare really ain’t good at takin’ no fer an answer”

“Even if she did, what’s it to you? Aren’t caps caps?”

“No, not with the way she’s been workin’ with the cunts up there in Up-Town. Direct orders from the boss to tell her and her cronies to fuck off pal.”

“Well then,” Eagle said, smiling “Good thing I’m not with her. Actually with a caravan heading west to Appleloosa.”

“Appleloosa!?” the ganger startled, disbelief tearing across his face. “You mean to say you’d go out there to those two-bit slavers all willin’ like?”

“Yeah,” Eagle said with a shrug “their caps are good, and they can’t get enough chems to drug out their slaves, and their own guys. That’s why I’m willing to buy a shit load of chems if you’re selling. I’m not talking a few hits of Dash, I’m talking whatever you’ve got in stock; maybe twenty five or thirty doses of Dash, Buck, Painkillers, even Rage if you got it.” he lied through his teeth.

The laundry list of chems Eagle said made the ganger’s eyes widen with avarice, although it was laden with a strange surprise that he guessed was to the offer. Eagle did a short number crunch in his head and figured the lump sum was perhaps around two or three thousand caps, more than enough to sate the appetite of a pony looking for the ever famous big score. Even if the ganger decided to be an idiot, he could make use of that.

“Well... we ain’t too keen on trading with slavers or slaver ‘associates’, but... In light of that, I think the boss would like a word or two wit’ yah.”

*** *** ***

It didn’t take long for Eagle to realize what the ganger was doing. Leading him through a network of alleyways, deeper into the complex of burnt-out buildings and away from prying eyes and ears he rolled his eyes and scoffed as the ganger turned around; two others emerged from the shadows plainly seen and heard by him.

“Well guess what fellas, this griffon here is saying he’s wantin’ to buy up what we got for chems. All of it I mean, then sell it to Appleloosa; of all places.” The ganger chortled, shaking his head as a magic wreathed switchblade appeared from his jacket; the aura matching his horn’s magic. The knife clunked with a metallic zing. “So here’s the deal feather-head. We’re gonna skip the part where I ask you how the hell you knew our plans. Sellin’ chems to Appleloosa was our score, and we ain’t keen on lettin’ yah rake in the profits or bolt outta ‘ere with that bright idea.”

The other two gangers were dressed similarly to the first one, light jackets without any real armored barding to speak of, with the only difference being their choices of weapons. The switchblade was accompanied by a long dirk of sorts and a rough hewn club, both mouth-wielded by the earth ponies. It was obvious they were trying to simply scare with numbers; ineffectually, but obvious.

“Sad it had to be this way -as yer a clever egg and we could use yah- but I’m gonna assume the boss ain’t keen on it, or you peepin’ in on our scores. You ain’t leavin’ ‘ere whole.”

“Hmph,” Eagle grunted, shaking his head and glowering under his hat’s brim. “Here’s the thing Skulls. I needed you alone.”

In a jerking motion, Eagle pounced forward at one of the gangers in a cat-like strike, a silvery flash of steel leaping into his talon and burying itself into the chest of the target. The pony grunted in shock of the sudden blow he hadn’t expected and dropped his weapon. Eagle spun around, ripped the blade from the pony’s chest and parried a strike from the switchblade that flung at him in the air.

The collision surprised him. The telekinetic strength of the unicorn was strong, but not strong enough to hold up again his attack, and with a wing beat Eagle vaulted over him at the other ganger who was startled out of his wits.

The fear in his eyes was recognized in Eagle’s mid-flight pounce, and with a deft feint and decisive strike he managed to find purchase with his blade in the ganger’s neck. With a sharp twist and tug, an artery opened wide, and a swift kick allowed Eagle to vault from the second target to the third who had recovered his weapon. A fast strike with his blood-coated knife made sparks shoot from both the blades, and the unicorn retreated to a fair distance, his rump bumping into the wall behind him.

Eagle landed squarely on his fours in a low stance, eyes brimming with menace that the ganger hadn’t expected with the knife held at chest level, wreathed in his friend’s blood. Fear addled his voice, and he tried to reassert himself.

“The fuck you learn that? I ain’t ever seen a griffon fight like that before!”

“From where I’m standing you fuckers haven’t fought a griffon before,” he smiled grimly “you ponies are predictable. And stupid, which suits me to the ground.” Eagle began to press on slowly, blood droplets from his knife making a dully shimmering path of his advance. “Now... about your gang...”

*** *** ***

It didn’t take long for the unicorn to break. Eagle may have had to chase him down a short distance, break a hind leg of his and drag him to a secluded spot for his interrogation, but the information flowed like water when the appropriate leverage was applied.

Turns out unicorns are awfully squeamish when it comes to their horns. You may break their bones, burn their skin, and apply any torture methods one might imagine like teeth pulling all the way to castration. This one only needed one knife twist away from severing his magic forever.

He had to admit one thing though, it seemed as if his half-lies hit a nerve. He knew Appleloosa had slavers there, and knew of their practices on drugging slaves, but the luck that the gang was planning to exploit that market was unbelievably convenient. These gangers were planning on selling out massive shipments of chems to slavers out of town; a plan that he was sure the Mayor wasn’t privy or amenable to. He hoped he could find it on paper somewhere, but doubted being able to.

With the information he needed though, the main hide-out of their gang, he left the ganger dead and bound to a pillar in some building off the beaten path. He now prowled whatever rooftops were still intact, of which weren’t many at all as most of the buildings were merely jagged remains of their former heights. He flew from one vantage point to another until he saw the ‘camp’ down below. Little more than he’d seen, or expected, of Old-Town there were numerous gangers below, all of them wearing some version of the gang’s signature jacket; the skulls on the shoulder displayed proudly.

He scanned over them and the surrounding environs. There were two main huts that were built in the middle of the large courtyard, both of which were painted in various motifs of the gang’s designs, and the surrounding smaller ones looked like simple hovels for ponies to crash in or store goods. The entire compound was surrounded by a chain-link fence with a single gate, and there were patchwork barbed wire lengths around the fence.

The One hut that piqued his interest had an old pre-War drugstore sign hanging on the outside, half canted and wrecked, but the large red letters beneath the triple butterfly motif couldn’t be missed. He wondered which building would possess what he needed, and guessed that the ‘drugstore’ would be a production facility. There probably wouldn’t be anything but chemistry setups and such within those walls, not much chance of it holding papers or logs, but it might have had containers brimming with chems.

If he could go in, steal a bunch of them and get the necessary information he needed he felt he could get out of town with a fair bit of wealth for the trouble. He shook his head though, trying to refocus himself on the primary objective of the job. Order of business number one was getting in.

There would be little hope of any direct approach, as they seemed to have a majority of the routes secured enough, save for the one that seemed audacious at first glace. Eagle wondered if, under the cover of night, if he could fly down from above, steal in and find what he needed and bail the same way.

“Best bet most likely.” He whispered to himself. Turning away he scanned the rooftop around him, found a stairwell access and descended a floor to find a secluded spot. It was there he made camp for the next few hours. His PipBuck read seven fifty, and he would have a while before dark to prepare.

So he did, honing his blade, checking his firearms hoping they wouldn’t be necessary as well as having a small meal. He even took out that unicorn’s switchblade he took and gave it a proper edge, thinking that he could probably use it to sow some chaos amongst them if needed. The blade had a few distinguishing marks, the most prominent the name etched across the handle.

‘Filet’.

*** *** ***

About half an hour after dark is when Red Eagle stood up from his short rest, his PipBuck’s quiet alarm waking him. He went up the roof access and peered back down into the now half shadowed camp of The Skulls as a few meandered to and fro, most of them in no more than groups of two and looking as if they were turning in for the day. He kept watch for a while, trying to see if any were in guard routes but surprisingly found only one that might fit the bill. A single pony made a clear cut path around the camp site, a path that he recognized timings and marked them, and would be easy to avoid given proper caution.

Eagle breathed deeply, double checking all he could see before he flexed himself out, popping bones and stretching his muscles. With a final motion he waited for the guard to pass to a specific spot, and he leapt from the rooftop and glided down near silently in the evening darkness.

Landing behind a large dumpster he crouched down as quietly as possible, his dark adjusted eyes darting to and fro for potential witnesses and finding none. He let a few minutes pass before he looked back out, the back of the guard was seen as he rotated back across the courtyard. With that, he slunk out near silently, save for the rasping of his boots on pavement, as he neared the main door of the largest shack. He tested the door’s lever-knob and cursed silently to find it locked.

He darted his eyes back at the guard. A few minutes were all he had if he wanted to pick the lock, which would be preferable, yet the fast option would make noise; a lot of it in the relatively quiet evening air. He screwed his face up and made a snap decision to try his luck picking it, marking the location of the guard and he set to work.

Withdrawing an old picking set from his pack, a red hued fabric roll that when unfurled revealed all manner of probes and odd shaped picks at his disposal. He eyed the lock quickly, took out two of the tools and started fiddling with the keyhole.

Luckily he found success, even if just barely. The lock gave a short responsive ‘click’ after a minute’s effort and he squirreled away his pick set, opened the door slowly with a whine of the rusty hinges, entered quickly shutting the door behind him.

What lay inside surprised him to say the least. Somewhat clean, save for some rubble dustings and gang graffiti on the walls, with a few lights dotted the walls inside. It was empty except for a few gangers sleeping on low rung cots -which he marked two- and a few broken down desks and cabinets. He tested the floor for noise, finding little, and began his slow and methodical approach to one of the cabinets.

Opening it resulted in a far louder metallic screech than he anticipated. He darted his eyes over to the gangers where it seemed not a one of them stirred. Sighing quietly in relief he tried a few others, meeting the same resistance in several of them that gave that screech. Growing agitated, he shook his head as to how many of these drawers were simply abused and he wondered if he should kill the two gangers in there to search in peace.

Opting not to unless it was necessary he kept trying the other drawers, occasionally looking back at the gangers for signs of waking. Eventually, he found one drawer that slid open easily, and most importantly silently. What he found inside was... quite the prize at a glace.

It looked like a ledger or journal of sorts; flipping through it was a log of transactions and receipts between the gang and buyers. Eagle wondered if the book had any creature of importance’s name within its pages, but he wouldn’t know them if he took the time to read through it anyways, so he kept digging.

After what felt like an eternity of digging through piles and piles of half destroyed papers along with a few burnt books he felt as if he had finally found something, a small wooden lockbox that was intact, only the noise of a waking pony kept him from investigating it further.

“The hell?” was all the pony could say as Eagle leapt forward and killed him in a decisive knife strike, albeit with far more noise than he liked. He had to follow through, bounding at the other as he tried to leap from his cot. The pony hadn’t the time to defend himself, and he had even less time to sound an alarm.

Muttering a chastisement to himself about not having dealt with them prior, he took out the switchblade. It would be a decent cover up for his actions there, he hoped; a little internal feud to insinuate. He stabbed the corpses of the ponies with the switchblade erratically, their lifeless bodies giving hollow and wet tearing sounds as blood began to stain their bodies. He dropped the blood coated switchblade on the ground in one puddle, and satisfied he returned to inspecting the little lockbox.

The wooden frame of the small chest seemed pretty frail, the lock on the front of it equally so. He took his knife and levered on its lid and with a loud creaking of wood and a pop the box opened, revealing its insides to be a small notepad of sorts. He withdrew it and opened the pages, flipping through it he read a few lines to discover that Dark Water had been right -only he didn’t know how right exactly.

Somepony in town by the name of Maul was dealing with the gang, giving them supplies to make chems and fueling his own under the table chem business. The information was all there, shipment lists, payments, numbers. Everything Eagle thought that Dark Water might’ve needed to do what he needed -maybe more if he could connect what he heard earlier to it.

Nodding in approval he squirreled away the ledger and notepad in his packs, left the broken lock box on a desk and approached the door. He flipped the light switch, rendering the inside of the shack dark, cracked the door open, and peered outside to find the guard pony on the other side of the compound. Luckily, he thought, and inched his way out when the pony wasn’t looking. He wanted to take a look inside the chem shack, but he didn’t want to risk discovery. He had already pushed his luck to the breaking point, and opted to leave with what he had while he could without inciting a battle in town. ‘He wanted nice and quiet, after all.’

Slinking out the way he came, he retreated behind the cover of darkness and with a beat of his wings set sail into the murky air above. He tried to keep quiet, and if any of them heard his departure none of them signaled it.

He would have smirked, but his focus kept him from doing so. ‘A job well done,’ he thought ‘in and out, easy caps.’ And thus he made his way back to the entrance of Old-Town, found the cover of a building he could hole up in for the rest of the night, and slept until morning.

*** *** ***

His PipBuck’s clock read eight o’ five by the time he reached Dark Water’s store, and Red Eagle fought a yawn before entering the building. He looked around, saw Dark Water as he stood there flexing the lethargy out of his wings and body. He smiled as he saw Eagle.

“Welcome back friend, how’s the mornin’ treating you?”

“Not as important as how it’s treating you Dark,” Eagle said, grinning “found something you might be interested in.”

“Ah, well... follow me to the back then. Hey Shell, watch the store a bit for me would you?”

“On it sir.” One of the mare guards said, taking a position next to where Dark Water stood overseeing the store.

“Better if this is quiet. Follow me.”

Eagle followed Dark Water into the back of the store and through the door in the wall, and through was little more than a small modest room. A small wooden board declared it to be the mayor’s office in all its humble glory. Eagle wondered if he was poor, or if he was simply a far more down-to-earth pony than most in power. He had to suppress a chuckle at the unintended joke.

Dark Water however took a seat behind his desk, pulled a few papers and a pen from a drawer and set them out on the flat surface before him. He sighed, yawning as he stretched again, and fixed Eagle with a hard stare of suspense. “So... whaddaya got for me?”

“A ledger I think,” Eagle said as he fished out the items he retrieved “this notebook is chock full of names and amounts -looks like the merchandise too- and a log of The Skulls’ dealing with some character called ‘Maul’.”

“Maul!?” Dark said surprised, shaking his head. “Are you certain of this?”

“I pulled these out of their hideout last night,” he set out the two books on his desk, standing upright “It was in one of their shacks there, locked away pretty well I might add. Another thing also, I couldn’t find hard evidence on it but one ganger I caught told me they were planning on selling massive amount of chems to Appleloosa; slavers as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Ho-lee-shit...” The mayor said, taken aback by the news as he flipped through the pages of the ledger and found the pony’s name on the list of buyers in one, and the complete transactions on the other. “Maul you tricky sonuvabitch. I knew you were dirty but this?” Dark took time to scratch his chin, absorbing and thinking on the information. Finally he sighed shortly and began explaining.

“Maul’s a... well he’s part of the Council, and one of the main driving forces behind the town’s success. What I’m reading here is he’s trying to turn this place into a fuckin’ chem den alongside the regular commerce. And if what you said is true then he might be planning much worse. This town don’t deal with slavers; one of the only true laws we got.

“Look Eagle, you’ve done more than earned your pay, but I’ve got another job if you’re interested. You’ve dug up far more than The Skulls and their... plans; you’ve dug up a conspiracy. A Council member in league with gangs... Not to mention the rest. It’s grounds for exile and-”

“I can’t afford more than a day’s excursion on this.” Eagle interrupted flatly. “Now I don’t mind another job, but it depends on details. What do you need me for exactly?”

“An arrest for starters.” he screwed his face up as his mind raced with the possibilities, taking time to plot out how to deal with them, but Eagle’s impatient glare made him clear his throat. “Knowing Maul though, that would become a full scale riot. He’d probably incite his ponies against mine and the city’s, meaning a small war in the streets. He ain’t one to go quietly, so I’ll need every warm body I can muster. I’m going to have to send out a message with a Caravan out east, get some Talons here just to bolster our forces-”

Eagle’s nostrils flared at the mention, as Talon Company, the league of pre and post-War griffon mercenaries, was the single group he expressly wanted to avoid at all costs.

“I can’t stay then if that’s the case.” Eagle said, keeping himself calm. “Me and the Talons got a... history I’d rather keep private. Lower the chances I see them the better.”

“Really? Well shit then...” Dark screwed up his face, but after a minute’s contemplation he relented. “Fine then. Well, Dodge City thanks you for your service. No offence but I’d rather have five or six of them as opposed to just you. Not that you’re incompetent, far from it from your work, but strength in numbers and all.”

“I understand,” Eagle said with an ounce of apprehension in his voice, whether it was towards Dark Water or Talon Company he couldn’t tell “once I get my payment I’ll be on the road as soon as possible. I don’t want to be anywhere nearby when the shooting starts.”

“That would be best, but it ain’t going to start for another few days at the least. Paperwork to file and allegiances to secure and all...”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes with his wing tips. He stood up and made to leave the room, waving for Eagle to follow. They went through the back of the store until they found themselves in a corner that Dark began to dig through, emerging from the piles of boxes with one in particular that he handed it to Eagle, who opened it to reveal a multitude of different pre-War Equestrian military rations.

“Here’s your rations. Although, I must admit you’ve done more than that for me today. Anything else you need for the road? See anything you like?”

“Got any healing potions? Can’t have enough of those.”

“Even though I’ll need as much as I can scrape together yeah, I can give you three or four of ‘em. Lemme see.” He dug through a few more boxes on some shelves and eventually returned with a dented and scratched medical box; the yellow and pink paintjob worn to bare steel in spots. The butterfly motif remained, despite all. “Yeah, here we go. Gotta sort this shit some day, but here.”

He popped open the box and revealed the relatively intact medical gear inside. A few bandages, forceps and tweezers and the like, but most importantly the dazzling glowing purple potions inside were still there.

“Thanks.” Eagle said as he stashed away the three potions into his packs. Relatively satisfied he nodded to Dark, and made his way to leave the store. “Been a pleasure, Dark Water; good luck with the next few weeks.”

“You too Bartus, you too.”

*** *** ***

About a mile outside the city, Red Eagle had to take a moment of reflection.

Another town, touched in a way he wouldn’t have expected from little more than his passing, and all it did was make him grumble under his breath as he walked southwards; realization kicking in for another time in his life.

He didn’t simply ‘pass through’ at all. He arrived, needing supplies and work to get them and he found what he needed. In the end, the job seemed simple, succinct, and it was for all intents and purposes. The results were not so simple.

In his ‘passing’, five ponies were dead, and more were sure to follow as the discoveries opened up a can of worms too large for the town to ignore. If Dark Water was right, then his little one day job opened grounds for a short and bloody civil war, and his moniker rang true again. Simply trying to survive had cost many places their lives, their livelihoods, and he wondered just how deep that truth would continue on against him, plaguing his thoughts as his mercenary mind tried desperately to bury his melancholies.

Going south into The Hoof meant a fight, most definitely, but what of his return? Would this package mean trouble for Crystal City? A bloody feud or some other crazed murder spree? What truly sparked confliction was he thought he wouldn’t even care either way.

He scoffed, as he knew no matter what he would be stuck in such a cycle of death. He’d need work, that work meant death and that would lead to more -like cutting an artery the single act would bleed the target dry. ‘Typical Wasteland brahminshit’ he thought as he kept walking south, trying to forget it all and simply focus on the road ahead.

He didn’t succeed though, only managing to change topics for a time before night fell across the face of Equestria, and sleep held him before the morning comes again. The day after only promising more of the mindless routine he so often encountered; mind numbing monotony as his companion.

Footnote: Red Eagle maximum level

Chapter 6: The Hunters

Chapter 6: The Hunters

Nearly six days had passed as Eagle crossed the nearly empty expanse of The Wasteland. Another week on the road did little for him, along with nothing but his musings and melancholies to keep him company, yet the more distance he put between himself andDodge City the better he felt. Marginally perhaps, but a marked improvement was experienced. The Days felt shorter despite the longer daylight hours, the walk less grueling, and despite his nearing The Hoof he felt ‘safer’ in an odd fashion.

Although in the end he only shook his head, and continued his repetitious habits. Worrying after what was to happen when he actually did pierce The Hoof’s border consumed most of it, and the first and most evident threat were the raiders that frequented the place as every creature seemed to know they were there.

He had taken glances at his PipBuck’s map, repeatedly every night he camped, as he tried to determine the why of it; the reason for The Hoof’s bizarre reputation. He knew that the border towns had problems with the raiders, so there was evidence, but beyond border conflicts very few creatures ever actually went in there and returned; at least, without thousand yard stares or half-maddened by the experience he remembered. It seemed that all that was known was that it simply spawned them like insects. An old pony proverb came to mind, that of mice being born of rotten straw.

Simple ignorance perhaps, but as he scanned the region’s landscapes either there was a town or city there that no creature knew of within that had enough ponies to produce the goods to raid, or there were enough pre-War supplies in the massive valley in the first place to provide for all those rumored raiders. The city of Hoofington came to mind, but all he had heard said that place was a graveyard unto itself, and had a habit of killing those who entered.

There were no major cities nearby, unless you counted Baltimare which was every bit of three hundred miles away north-east, and to the south was just the Badlands which was nothing but a hundred and fifty-ish miles of what the name suggested; according to hearsay again. The nearest towns, be they large or small, like Dodge City couldn’t possibly grow enough for them all either. Or worse, he grimaced, not nearly enough towns nearby to cannibalize on, and if they ate each other then the problem would have been solved by now. He hadn’t heard of a caring family in those kinds of gangs, so little prospects of population growth.

He wondered, and knew in a sense, that the tales were most likely exaggerated anyways. They made it out like there were thousands of them in that valley of The Hoof, which he grimly hoped wasn’t the case; despite logic telling him it was just a supply based impossibility.

He shook his head in the end and kept thinking on the preparations on other things as he approached the border in earnest. The chief worry of them was being actually getting in there unnoticed, past any potential raider blockades not once, but twice. Going over the mountain range wasn’t an option as even a griffon didn’t dare fly over their crests. No telling what unseen dangers were there, be they Enclave lightning rods that they used for ‘border defense’ or mutated monstrosities that prowled the peaks. Even just a spontaneous uncontrolled storm would be sure to make any foolish flyer into a pile of steaming, lightning fried meat.

That really left only two options; go through the northern mouth of the valley or go through some underpasses in the mountains. He felt both roads would be a fool’s gamble. Either way he could guarantee it would be guarded, and after a few moments of speculation he decided on going through the tunnels. He didn’t want to risk the wide open spaces of the valley’s mouth, at night or not for fear of unseen snipers watching the pass. It might have been more cramped on space in those tunnels, but if they held raiders he felt he could slip past them unnoticed.

That meant with certainty he would be whipping out every trick in the book to avoid detection to preserve his resources, and his life on the suspicion that the passages into The Hoof would hold more than what he feared.

Doing as he had done many times before, he shelved the dilemma in the back of his mind. He figured worrying about it with every step would only agitate him beyond measure. He would have to deal with it as he had always done before, wing it.

At this point in his life he felt like an expert at it, and the thought made him reminisce again as he recalled times by the score he made it up as he went. The times when he improvised and watched a spur-of-the-moment plan collapse or happen as expected. Old wounds began to twinge at some, and short lived memories of pride or surprise came and went at others.

Regardless, one step after another keeping an even stride he trotted on as he always did. Eyes on the distant horizon he kept watch of the lifeless surroundings, following the long road to the next stop. He had a dim hope that the whole excursion would be uncomplicated, relatively short, devoid of all expected trouble. A vain hope he knew, that any creature knew who strode similar roads, but that hope was the ounce of drive that kept him going forward with this deranged and foolish plan.

The same as any creature held really; the hope that it would get easier one day, that The Wasteland would eventually take a day off and let them rest easy for once. As Eagle mused he looked down at the ground and saw another pile of forlorn bones, the bleached and cracked hornless pony skull grinned widely amongst its ribs and limbs in the lipless smile of the dead.

The Wasteland took a grim twisted pleasure however, in grinding that hope to dust with a raspy chuckling grin.

*** *** ***

A few more hours into the day as the world passed into evening, the already bleak grey sky turned shadowed and ominous. The surrounding terrain of lightly rolling hills crowned in patches of dead trees and small husks of buildings that was once silhouetted by the dull light disappeared into the growing darkness, and as the gloom deepened so did Eagle’s attention to it. His griffon eyes still had difficulty making out more than rough shapes in the distance though.

Focusing on his hearing and sudden movements as he dipped into primal instincts he slowed his pace, almost prowling the final length between him and the junction beyond. Earlier on a hill’s crest he saw his entrance to The Hoof, and it was as he had feared within that open mouth that burrowed into the mountain.

It was empty, no camps or flags declared the territory of some gang. This was a problem, as those with experience dealing with raiders or slavers know that if an area is a good ambush point they will either place a large claim to an area to accost travelers on the road, or lie in wait out of sight. The former wasn’t the case simply for his earlier thoughts on the utter lack of travelers, and the latter meant if raiders were close by they would be inside the tunnels themselves in tight knit camps.

If that was the case, then stealth was all but a doomed approach; he would need to find access points or service tunnels inside to skirt around them. Worse of all was the fact that unexplored or undisturbed tunnels and passages could be host to any number of horrors; horrors that used them as nests perhaps.

The thought sent slight shivers down his spine and tail; the choices were each and every one bad and had their own challenges. A raider camp could mean a massive firefight, the tunnels could mean possible mutated monsters that could swarm him and eat him alive, and flying above the mountain was its own bag of unknowns that, despite not being an option before, became more and more preferable by the minute.

Getting frustrated by the indecision he scoffed at the darkness and stopped, sat down and closed his eyes as he objectively took each into consideration. He weighed the odds of each and the threats he’d rather face, and he concluded he would much rather take his chances with the tunnels, he didn’t know what was in them realistically, and facing that unknown might prove to be nothing more than an errant rat or radroach in desiccated, empty tunnels.

He could only pit guesses against certainty. Mentally shrugging, he stood up and shook his head, stretched out and prowled once more into the dark, closer to the entrance beyond. Now it was time for him to put his ‘plan’ into action. First things first of course; he had to find a tunnel that would take him where he wanted.

That, he gave a worried scoff as he mused, was the real trick.

*** *** ***

Outside of the dimly outlined highway tunnel he looked within and kept himself close to the arching half circle that made up the passage’s entrance. Inside he could see small, but bright lines of light like a campfire’s aura that leaked from cracks in a wall as the sole sources of lights. They allowed him to see more detail than he suspected the residents wanted, as in front of a large and piecemealed wall of rusted metal and splintered wood were two guards posted sitting on low chairs.

Their barding from what he could see was what he had come to expect of raider types; a stitched and taped together mixture of metal and leather with no real defensive qualities against a smart or well equipped opponent. Beside them he saw a post with a dully gleaming brass bell of sorts. The alarm he noted.

Along the sides of the tunnel were an assortment of traditional wasteland rubble and garbage, like bottles or papers, but no traps or other defenses he could see. Breathing deeply, he flexed his talons and paws one by one to loosen them a bit, tucked his wings close to his body, and began to slowly prowl into the pony-made cavern with a low pantherish stride that gave no audible sounds besides the subtle rasping of his steps.

Eagle could barely hear it himself, but he knew that these raider guards, while they were awake, more than likely couldn’t hear anything short of a cough from the sheer boredom of being stuck outside the camp for the night shift; assuming they even rotated the guards. With careful steps he inched his way like a ghost, closer and closer to the wall within he avoided the tin cans and bottles that littered the path and kept an attentive eye on the guards. He eventually got within reach of touching the scrap wall, and from within he heard the shuffles and soft hoofsteps of several walking ponies behind it. Only a few, by the pace and sounds, and as he listened intently he thought he could hear some snoring as well.

It must have been later than he thought, or perhaps they had turned in early after a day of grueling inactivity. ‘Either way’ he thought, it was easier to sneak by sleeping raiders by far, so it was a stroke of luck.

He turned his head about slowly and saw the two guards clearly now. Both were earth pony stallions and their armor even more blatantly decrepit up close. Their weapons were rusty hunting rifles of sorts, bearing an appearance of having seen better days attached to their battle saddles. Their faces unarmored and their scarred hides wore expressions mixed with boredom and lethargy, more importantly the space between them and the gate was more than enough for Eagle to fit behind them and dispatch them quickly.

Resuming his deliberate pantherish stride he got behind one in the darkness, looked to the other measuring the distance as he took out his knife. With a quick stab and rip he buried the blade into the side of the guard’s neck in front of him and pulled it across, opening his throat he guided his fidgeting body to the ground all but noiselessly. He leapt from him to the next in a lightning quick pounce and buried the blade into the thoroughly surprised stallion’s neck as he turned about wide eyed from his partner’s sudden stifled shout of pain, and in the short fall repeated his slice and finished him off.

He checked the area and saw no other immediate threats and dragged the bodies all but noiselessly over to the side of the tunnel into a corner created by the large wall they were guarding; their blood smeared the road and pooled in the pile where they lay. He wiped his bloodied knife on the leather patches of their barding and sheathed the blade, then scanned the rusty scrap wall for any possible openings besides the main door, which was a smaller inset door to the broad wall. When he found none he knew he would have to risk it.

Grumbling to himself he checked for cracks large enough to see through. He eventually found one and peered inside to find a small assortment of stained and patched tents and other improvised means of sleeping privacy like pyramids of sheet metal or broken down husks of chariots. There were small campfires, little pots and kettles suspended on spits around them that illuminated the underpass beside several of the tents. Alongside some of the chariots he saw collections of footlockers and crates piled up on each other, presumably their spots to keep their goods Eagle thought.

Panning over as far as the crack allowed he saw a pair of raggedy and seemingly drained earth pony mares chatting as they meandered away from the gate with a staggering pace towards the back of the camp. Their armor was light but equally useless as the two he had just dealt with and their weapons in much the same condition. For a moment Eagle wondered if there were any gangs around that actually had equipment worth more that a pocketful of caps, but wished such luck continued in his favor.

Beside them as they trotted on was a small road sign with a bend in its post that rose above them. On the face of the bare rectangular metal plate was an insignia he didn’t recognize painted in bright yellow and black that looked like a winged insect of sorts. He wondered if it was the gang’s banner.

He looked back to the mares as they walked further away and quickly ensured that no other pony was looking towards the gate, and quickly shuffled to the small inset door and tried his talon at opening it. It budged a little, but the slight squeal of the hinges discouraged more force from being applied.

Shaking his head he gave a mental ‘fuck it’ and with great care inched the gate open as quietly as he could until it was wide enough for him to fit through. In a subtle cacophony of rusty pops and groans he managed to get it open quietly enough, and with a deft motion slid through and closed the gate behind him, and immediately with a cat-like silent grace dove behind a ruined chariot off to the side in front of the gate.

Keeping his body low and ears open, he felt a faint sense of relief when no noises declared his discovery or curiosity at the noise of the gate. Risking a peak around the chariot’s corroded fender his hearing didn’t betray him as the tents remained still and the two mares continued the direction they went; their conversation faint and unintelligible from the distance. His eyes panned around the cavern, analyzing with the better view and saw little more than he had seen before.

There were signs of living around tables and stools with chipped cups and bottles on them, some short stacks of curled and crumpled paper and playing cards lay on top of one in the corner opposite of his position. Beyond that were chest high sand bag piles and other defenses that he supposed the camp had put up in case an enemy group got past their gate.

What got his attention, however, was the lack of traditional raider style decorations. For some reason, he remembered, raiders of a particularly maniacal breed tended to wallow in ecstatic pleasure with severed limbs and dismembered body parts for décor like radhogs in mud. The worst he had seen of that variety had unspeakable design choices like intestines for garland strands and hooves nailed to the walls marking kills, alongside the bowls carved from the skulls of their victims.

Worse were the posed corpses used for target practice with knives, or itching that scratch when the rest of the gang refused to sleep with them. In reality though, the last one may have been just because they could, like twisted foals given divine power and expected not to play or satisfy any dark and dire cravings.

This camp though lacked those disturbing insanities, and the break from the custom momentarily confused him; it might have even been capable of being called ‘clean’.

Shelving the thought he returned his gaze to the now silent as a grave campsite, aside from crackling fires and subtle breezes wafting through the cavern and the errant snore. The two mares were gone, probably in their own tents he guessed, and after ensuring the coast was clear he rose up silently and prowled around from his cover between the pieced together tents and sandbag walls deeper into the lair of a sleeping beast. As he went, the numerous tents remained still as their inhabitants slept almost serenely; the few that had ponies awake within were all luckily preoccupied with their own mixture of businesses.

Soundlessly he advanced deeper into the camp until he heard a noise that cut through the silence like a blaring echo of shrieking metal. With a sudden instinctual squat he looked at his surroundings picked out a small roadside walkway lowered into the concrete with enough space to fit him and he dove into it with little racket crouch walking his way deeper into the space. His steps were deliberate as his eyes scanned for potential traps, trying to ensure he wouldn’t trip an alarm or other kinds of paranoid defenses the gangs could place here, if any. He found nothing but assorted garbage; the most dangerous being bottles that he stepped carefully around.

Getting far enough into the cover of shadows he stopped and knelt down on a foreleg, with his ears listening intently and eyes looking out of the view-holes in the roadside to try and see the commotion.

The piercing noise echoed on for what felt like an eternity in the cavern as the sounds of awakening and equally confused ponies muttering questions filled the resonating air. Eagle could make out most of them, and all were a general clump of ‘what was that’ or ‘what’s going on’, adding in curses of a wide variety.

They mirrored his own thoughts, and they were all, him included, abruptly interrupted when a cacophony of shouts began in a commanding mare’s voice that echoed deeper into the tunnel. “We’ve got incomin’ fillies! A band of Jocks comin’ from the south!”

The commotion after the statement made Eagle Painfully aware of how complicated an already difficult situation just became. The sounds of cocking rifles and rapid uneven hoof stomps of ponies trying to meet the threat and psych themselves up for the coming fight filled the cavern, and after a short time of shouting war cries like ‘Time to rumble!’ or ‘Get some!’ between the gang’s ponies the general noises of battle prep began.

Orders being shouted to shore up cover, wooden crates and sandbags being moved and shuffled about in a near panic filled the air, and Eagle cursed as this was exactly the opposite of what he wanted. To get sucked into a gang war in The Hoof, the irony was he wasn’t even in The Hoof yet; he was in the highway tunnels on the border. ‘What fucking timing’ he cursed mentally, shaking his head at the thought he returned to listening.

After eight or nine minutes of scrambling defenses and shouted orders is when the gunfire began. Piercing shots that resonated with cruel sharp notes in the cavern sounded off in scattered bursts, and they were met with the return fire of distant gunfire that was all but muted by their target’s war cries and attacks. Eagle heard the telling noises of whistling bullets that impacted concrete and metal alike with a shattering crack, and alongside it he heard pony’s cries of pain when he figured they were hit by a stray bullet.

After a minute or so of the general chaos of battle, Eagle looked down the small corridor he was in and saw it continued on ahead for a stretch before being clogged by rubble and trash. He picked himself up to a low squat and lurked down the tunnel, keeping his noise to a minimum despite the firefight above him.

He knew now that sneaking through the figurative front door was no longer an option, the firefight could last for hours or mere minutes depending on a great deal of variables he didn’t have the time to consider. That didn’t much matter though, as a distraction of this magnitude was a blessing in disguise for slipping past unseen, so long as he kept his head on a swivel and keep to the shadows. The trick was now to find an access tunnel he could use to get out of the center of a gang war, without getting involved that is.

Risking a peak outside of the passage into the main body of the tunnel he found the majority of the gang ponies were in a cramped mob far down in the direction of the firefight, with a handful of them hanging back taking potshots at range with larger rifles on their saddles. He looked in the other direction with a lingering gaze to ensure there weren’t any behind him. He didn’t expect to find any ponies with a firefight on the other end of the tunnel and wasn’t disappointed.

Gazing back to the mob of gangers he breathed deeply, girding himself as he stepped over the ledge and prowling toward them as he kept low. There were roughly thirty paces between him and the closest sniper, and as the earth pony stallion fired shots to the front he reached him and drew his knife, clasping his muzzle shut with his free talon and slit his throat in a single flash of movement. He dragged his spasm wracked body to the ground as he twitched out his last defiant attempts at self defense.

Eagle checked the lines ahead to survey the field. A few of them were looking off in his direction, but all of them too consumed by the fire fight to pay attention to their rear with more than a passing glance. The other group, the ‘Jocks’ according to the ganger mare’s decree, were far down the tunnel, maybe a hundred yards, and while the slight curve to the right in the passage partially blocked their firing line he saw one of them. A burly looking stallion standing tall with wide pinprick eyes and manically proud as he charged into the gunfire wearing nothing but some sort of hard plastic sport’s armor that was mottled and scratched all to hell with a large, wicked looking wooden club with saw blades fastened to it by barbed wire and nails in his teeth.

Bullets that impacted him barely slowed him down as he charged forth, his foaming mouth the tell tale sign of heavy chem usage, and after a large volley of shots that pierced his ‘armor’, with one blowing apart his skull in ground up bloody chunks of gray matter he finally fell to the ground in a sudden collapse. Even then his body seemed to twitch of its own accord. Another one, similarly garbed, only a unicorn wielding two machetes with his magic, exhibited the same signs of overdose as his mouth dripped bubbling froth. He mouthed out crazed sayings Eagle couldn’t hear over the gun fire.

He charged into a firing line, climbed over the sandbags swinging his blades wildly as the bullets buried themselves deep into his body, the only one that remotely hobbled him was a wild shot to a foreleg that impacted the bone inside, exploding on impact and ripping flesh and shards of bone in a spectacular meaty pop leaving a cavity that stretched from his knee to the shoulder that rendered that limb all but useless. In his chem craze however the wound merely made him limp as he landed. His face maintained the wildly barbaric expression as he swung with a primal frenzy, killing a few of his targets but grievously wounding most, as they retreated in desperate flight.

After felling several ponies he finally took a shot that his drugged body couldn’t ignore, and the life left his face as he fell; his hooves scrambled as if his mind still fought when his body was yanked out from under him altogether. Several of the gangers that knelt behind the sandbags peered over their cover and made moves to rally back to the lost ground, but they were immediately stopped in panic as they opened fire again on the Jocks who replaced their fallen comrades. Each and every one wore similar barding and wielded some melee implement that all looked equally vicious and improvised, and all were flying high on some concoction of chems that made the bullets entering their bodies seem unimportant.

As he watched the spectacle, he saw a diverging path off to the left some thirty yards down that had a wooden frame that seemed to be built to cover the entrance with firing lines, or limit the amount of ponies that could pass through at a time. Around the sides and top of the structure were large warning signs, painted with yellow symbols that indicated different things. One sign displayed ‘WARNING’, another read ‘DEATH’, the actually useful ones declared ‘RADS’ and ‘MUTANTS’.

His snap judgment said that some group here must have built that to protect themselves from whatever lay within after finding out the hard way; either the current gangers or any previous inhabitants. It didn’t matter who built it though as the creatures who put it up must have avoided it like the plague and guarded it to keep whatever was in there inside, and that meant little to no presence of any gangers or raiders within. If he could get to it he could follow the passage and make a break for a surface access stairwell; if he could find one, that is.

Sighing sharply, he stretched inside his armor, knowing he would have to get momentarily involved in the fighting to reach it. There was little chance he could garrote his way silently through the mob and not get noticed. He would just have to cut his path open and make a break for it, and hope none of the ponies got off a lucky shot. Their panicked aim was still lethal to chem crazed raiders after all; he doubted he’d be able to shrug off a wound like that as easily.

After preparing for the run he trotted out of hiding to an empty space of cover, gave his own battle saddle a kick with a hind leg, disabling the safety with a click, and patted his chest armor hoping it could catch their bullets if it came to the worst; all while he clutched his knife anxiously. Waiting for an ideal moment he watched the battle for a short while, and when an opening presented itself as the gangers spread in a section advancing he spread his wings and gave a powerful beat of them that launched him forward and into the fray a third of the distance easily.

With expert motions he killed or maimed all the ganger ponies as he closed the distance with lightning slices and accurate stabs and wove between obstacles, using them as cover against the ponies of the firing line on the opposite side of the tunnel. As he raced towards the side tunnel he kept low and pounced on the pair of an unaware gangers ahead of him, slicing out a hind leg and turning a half pirouette with a slash across his throat that sent ribbons of blood that reflected the flares of muzzle blasts and campfires through the air as he screamed from the pain of the first injury, drowning him shortly as he gurgled.

Jumping to the next in a practiced motion he finished the spin and hammered the mare in the jaw with a clenched talon as she turned aghast, then instantly Eagle drove the knife deep into her neck and, with a sharp twist and rip, he kept the motion and launched from her body drawing shining threads of blood with the blade as its target was stricken with shock. She fell to the ground clutching the wound with her hooves.

The cacophony of gunfire ahead began to escalate sharply in intensity towards the front line as Eagle butchered his way through the back ranks, and the moment when he spared a glace at the line to see what deserved that extra gunfire his body felt the ever familiar pang of pain from a sudden pressure in his armor. The lack of sharp burning pain immediately told him his armor had caught the bullet, and with a trained crouching turn he faced the direction where the bullet came from to find a ganger mare wildly firing a large pistol in a prismatic blue telekinetic field with panicked eyes.

Without an immediate clear shot he dodged to the left with a wing beat and dove behind the cover of a large rusted chariot bus nestled next to the tunnel’s wall, and upon finding it occupied he rectified it with a quick and precise slash and stab to the surprised stallion. His body barely hit the ground with a dull clatter lost amid the gunfire before Eagle backed against the chariot’s large side panel. Eagle looked down at a part of his armor where a good sized crater was pressed into its plate, below and behind his right shoulder beneath his coat; the light coat of rust on the armor stripped out of the divot surrounded by blackened streaks that the bullet’s splatter created.

Sparing a moment to catch his breath and thank his luck profusely he breathed deeply and turned about to quickly scan the battlefield ahead and plot his next course, and when he did he realized what all the extra gunfire was about.

It was large, beyond large actually. More like a gargantuan metallic chariot turned monstrous tank that turned around the bend in the tunnel beyond that had all manner of nasty bits attached to its jagged surfaces. Barbed wire lined the top of the roof and large serrated sheet metal spikes rose from its broad exterior armor panels welded to the structure, and on said spikes were a few pony corpses impaled on them forcefully like trophies.

On the front of the machine was a large and slit lined armor plate with a thick mesh of metal a foot from the panel itself. That, Eagle supposed, acted as the view port for the driver. Fixed to the roof was a mounted machine gun that owned the extra gunfire all to itself as its deep and bellowing roars drowned out the screams of its victims, and its pony gunner was armored in an all encompassing suit of bullet cratered and scratched steel armor. The pony panned the gun back and forth across the firing lines in front of him, and he looked as if he was cackling madly at the mayhem with sick pleasure.

Eagle temporarily went wide eyed and quickly rectified an earlier statement in his head. ‘This isn't a gang war, this is slaughter’.

“This just got really complicated...” was all he managed to say, voicing disbelief to himself when a blinding, burning pain pierced his left foreleg’s thigh after an ear stunning blast echoed behind him, and with a loud growl of pain he instinctually beat his wings and launched backwards, pirouetting he buried his knife into the same mare’s body that shot him from before. The stab broke her focus and the pistol clattered to the ground, and with a moment of advantage Eagle filleted her alive with slashes across all her major veins and arteries as he vented the battle frenzy born of his injury. His blood haze left her body bloody and broken, torn to ribbons on the ground.

After ensuring the mare was dead he staggered back to the chariot’s cover and limped as he did so. He slumped on it, shook his head from the pain of the gunshot and his own foolishness for forgetting ganger mare for merely a moment. He flinched from the consuming gunfire around him as he breathed between primal adrenaline powered grunts. He wiped his knife clean of blood as well as switched it over to his left talon, and he looked at the bloody hole in his armor between the Kevlar panels with raging eyes as he cut open the barding to reveal the nasty bullet hole beneath.

Cursing under his breath savagely he positioned the knife tip on the hole and, with a measure of hesitance, he quickly opened the hole a few inches more. The sharp fiery pain launched him into a fury edged agonized groan and he dropped the knife, used the talon to dig into the wound, growling in pain as his beak twisted into grimaces, and finally fishing out a relatively small blood coated mushroomed bullet from the now profusely bleeding gash.

Letting the bullet drop to the ground he quickly rummaged in his pack and pulled from it one of the brilliantly glowing purple healing potions and downed it like a shot of alcohol with desperate eagerness. A few seconds later the burning pain dissipated to bearable levels as the injury closed bit by bit, with the flesh magically knitting itself back together whole again. He did his damnedest to stabilize his breathing, but without much success he looked down at the healed wound and the bullet on the ground with a snarling beak, picked up his knife and peered back to the dead mare whose blood pooled below her.

“Fuck you...!” he spat at her corpse with a murderous coarse voice, and he slowly picked himself up and shook his head of the lingering pain. He tested his hind leg for strength and found it was nothing but sore now; the marvels of pony alchemies again astonishing him.

He looked back out to the battlefield and the mechanical monstrosity as its rapid fire machine gun and piercing reports tore apart cover and the ponies that hid behind them, leaving massive holes lined with ripped and ground flesh in them. It had managed to advance around the bend in the road beyond with an entourage of far more heavily armored Jocks that wielded large rifles in their battle saddles. They carved a path for the improvised tank behind the forward advance.

In front of it the ponies still alive were pinned down behind blasted rubble, and were scared beyond terror and their expressions matched. The few that tried to fight it were either wasted by the machine gun itself or its guards on the ground, both cackling profusely as pony after pony fell on their gunfire ripping them to pieces.

Eagle needed to move, to dive into the tunnel before that thing got too close, and with a slight limp he quickly moved around the cover of the chariot bus and kept low towards the side tunnel. He didn’t dare fly too high otherwise that turret might spot him and consider him dangerous enough to focus its fire, and being armored up or not that thing looked like a fifty cal. Anti-Machine rifle rounds being fired at an alarming rate of fire would shred him, as it would shred even the power armor it was built to penetrate.

The cacophony of gunfire and death began to escalate once again as desperation threw the gangers the Jocks targeted into a survival frenzy, some ran for their lives and others made their final stand against the metallic beast trying to shoot at weak spots. Most of them were simply mown down with limbs blown off or gaping holes ripped into their bodies with only a few stragglers managing to fall back. Several of them saw Eagle as he charged forward as he saw, one of which caught his eye; a pale green mare with an expression of urgency he would expect from this mess. The panicked fear of the vehicle kept them from paying him no more mind than a momentary confusion however.

One of them Eagle had crossed paths with, and with a deft leaping wing beat he hopped over the ducking terrified mare and kicked off her back with his paws driving the pony to the ground with a pained grunt. In her terror she didn’t bother chasing Eagle and merely scrambled to her hooves and continued fleeing from the Jocks.

Closing in to the tunnel’s entrance Eagle decided to risk it. He charged down the rest of the distance with wing beats between his strides giving him an incredible speed, and with that display he felt the thundering cracks of automatic weapon’s fire surround him as he neared the corner into the passage. He dove through the slim doorway with a mighty wing beat, and the air seemed to dance around him in that moment as he skid to a halt inside. Quickly he scanned for paths deeper into his refuge, and immediately found one in the middle of a large wooden framework down the path that was lit up with spotlights that wreathed the darkness in harsh hazy white contrasts; dust lazily flowed through the air as miniscule glowing white beacons.

Wasting no time he beat his wings with a sprint and made a break for the darkness beyond the struts, momentarily noticing there were a number of indistinct forms wrapped inside the barbed wire inside and scattered about the ground; he paid no time to examine them closer for fear that the Jocks might close in soon as he ran down the passage. The moment he cleared the structure into the spotlight’s glow wooden splinters filled the air about him and the thundering reports of the tank’s turret sounded, making it hard for Eagle to hear his own thoughts.

Ducking down and weaving deeper into the tunnel he left the light behind him. The asphalt around him began to explode into flaring chunks of rock and metal fragments, and ricochets resounded as bullets pinged around him that seemed to electrify in the air around him.

Dodging to and fro in the growing darkness he hopped into the air with powerful wing beats, he led the gun fire about the cavern. All of the lethal rounds missed him by what his senses deemed a hair’s width, and after more than a few desperate he seconds finally found the cover of another small access corridor like the one he hid in before, down into the side of the road shielded by dense shadows and concrete pillars.

Making a break for it he deftly dove inside it, tucking his body together he crept up the passage fast and after finding himself in complete darkness came to a stop and caught his breath. After a few deep draughts of air he finally managed to quiet himself, and then waited, his ears open and eyes peeled for pursuit.

Shortly, he heard the loud and unmistakable clatter of hooves on asphalt among the gunfire, followed by loud and addled shouts that tore their way through the noise. Their words were rough and half unintelligible in their giddy beyond measure speech, but among the jumbled words came ‘Feather-fuck’ and ‘Gettim!’ with the murderous playfulness typical of chem fiends.

"They’re pursuing of course..." he grumbled to himself mutely as the gibbering off beat hoof falls trailed off deeper into the tunnel’s darkness beyond. Eagle cursed under his breath sourly. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and waited for a few more minutes as he listened to the ever more thinning gunfire as it resonated, and without the return of his hunters he picked himself up slowly as he rose from his hiding spot.

He peered back from where he came. The spotlights made it hard to see past their harsh gaze, but within the barbed wire mesh and the wooden struts he saw bizarre black silhouettes outlined with mottled chromatic hides of deranged, mutated creatures that resembled ponies from the chest up. Their lower bodies however were all kinds of sick and twisted as they had bulbous and tumor spotted bodies with eight stunted limbs outstretched like spider legs. On top of some of their bodies were what looked like mismatched, malformed wings that weren’t even symmetrical, or on their backs like one would think, and crested on others their slack jawed heads bore only what could be described as a resemblance of a unicorn’s horn.

The mad forms weren’t perhaps as unnerving as the fact that some of their forms had both wings and horns, each mutated sinisterly in different horrendous proportions. Among the sheer number of them that were caught in the defenses and laid low on the ground around the entrance there were at least a dozen or more, perhaps twenty of the things, all dead with dismembered limbs or gaping bullet holes where the glaring light allowed him to see them. Eagle grimaced as he came to face his fear of a threat probably worse than going back and going talon to hoof with a well equipped raider gang mad on chems.

A nest of taint fiends.

If there were any of these things left alive in these tunnels, there had to be a nest somewhere for them to throw this many of their own onto the guns of raiders, and a nest means mutants by the score in their own home territory with radiation and taint to make and sustain this many. Now aware of his odds before a few raiders went sprinting past into the depths left a chill in his spine, as they were terribly small in his judgment to begin with.

If they disturbed them inside their nesting grounds then there was absolutely no telling how many of them would be awake or prowling for other intruders. Weighing his options again in severe dilemma he wondered if he’d be better off in a firefight with an armored vehicle bearing a fifty cal than going blind into a possible nest, and after ruminating for several minutes as the gunfire finally began to die into separated single shots he came to his conclusion.

No choice but forward.

He saw what these Jocks could do to an entire gang that once numbered thirty or better in heated combat, and they were chem crazed wielding overbearing firepower. He could probably go against them but that would be guerrilla warfare over a large area, not close-quarters trench combat. He had to risk it; dealing with a nest was little better than definite death, and with a heavy reluctance he prowled out of the access tunnel, dosed himself on a chalky RadSafe pill as he went down into the deep darkness beyond with his ears open and eyes scanning the area meticulously. He scoffed, and hated this job more and more by the hour.

*** *** ***

For what felt like an eternity as he prowled the near darkness of the tunnel, illuminated solely by a few sparse glowing mushroom patches along jutting pipes that ran the length of the tall curved walls, Eagle nearly drove himself mad listening to nothing but the rasping of his boots and gloves and the light rustling of his barding amidst the penetrating shadows. The gunfire had trailed off long ago it seemed, and now silence dominated the passage like a vengeful wraith.

His breathed low and even, despite the musty and thick air that defied him, his eyes struggled to dissect his surroundings and his ears fought to hear anything before the unseen could pounce on him in the dark. There was nothing but rubble, refuse, and the subtle groaning howl of air as he added to its symphony, giving some presence of life to the ebon graveyard.

He couldn’t measure time at all in his prowl, too hesitant to stop and see what his PipBuck had to say on the place, not that it really mattered; every iota of his focus was spent to ensure his cover of silence remained, and hoping that these mutant beasts weren’t more capable than he was in the dark. It was a fool’s hope, he knew; these creatures lived down here and their mutations must have made them capable of surviving a pit like this.

He went over time and time again his plan, to slip past undetected and get to the surface, and hopefully find a path to the coordinates. It was all he could do to keep his limbs moving forward in a creeping pace as every absence of noise set him on edge.

It felt like time crawled before he reached a large chariot pile up that blocked the road beyond. The smaller, single passenger sized ones laid out upon each other in blasted heaps, some upside down or standing on one end with their trunks or hoods towards the ceiling as giant busses formed the bedrock of their destroyed forms. He peered up into one of the busses he found one was a rent open with a panel on its second deck that he could enter. After stopping to measure the sounds around him, finding no out of place or animalistic echo he gave a wing beat and pounced gracefully into the entrance.

His initial steps were met with a piercing groaning of rusted steel, but they faded, shortly echoing as he grimaced at the announcement. He held fast and waited for any response to his presence but found none.

‘Lucky so far’, he mused, and with a turn he looked at the blown out panel he entered and found the hole was not the product of the bombs or degradation, but it had recent evidence of being cut open, like machete strikes. ‘The raiders must have come through this way’ he guessed to himself. Their determination was astounding to him, even if they were tripping on every variety of combat drug available.

Shaking the idea he reminded himself he had to keep moving, and with a careful step of a talon, testing the rotten carpet floor below him for creaks and groans finding little more than a subtle squeak of the steel beneath, he advanced.

As he made his way through the body of the bus past rows of long derelict and rotten seats, whose one time passengers still lay upon them as blackened bones, he circled the central stairwell peering down into the eerie depths beneath the deck. He looked to the other end of the bus and found no hole to match the previous one, so he made careful steps downwards through the flight and avoided the missing or rusted beyond use steps; he grimaced slightly as they groaned or bent under his weight.

He managed to get to the bottom without causing a ruckus, and he found the bottom deck matched the top down to the scattered bones, save for the pegasi driver’s seat harness which still retained much of the slack form inside it in the front of the bus. The shredded folding panel door next to it was hewn open, much like the panel above.

As he made his way forward he avoided the bones and strewn rubble, and his ears caught a subtle, yet very alarming sound that resembled gnawing with a meaty and moist undertone. His limbs instinctually locked in place as his eyes and ears practically panicked to place the direction of the sound, and they found it somewhere in a general direction ahead, maybe to the right as well.

He cursed in his thoughts, inched his way forward up to the bus door and peered about the expanse beyond. It was shrouded in a blackness thinly veiled with the faint green luminescence of those mushroom patches, but the glow was enough for his griffon eyes to see in plain detail the horror of the taint fiends within.

There weren’t many, only three that he could see, but it was three too many for his liking as their slack jawed mouths with long, slime coated tentacles and their warped bodies’ limbs fed on two familiar and fidgeting pony corpses. They tore the meat from bone in sloppy bites as the greasy feelers penetrated the blood matted coats and ripped whole chunks away with thin threads of slime forming between them and their fare.

They were Jocks by their garb, and the plastic sport’s armor seemed to impair the mutants’ attempts to eat them, but only barely evidenced by the sheer amount of missing flesh from the bloody bones that protruded from beneath the plates. On one, Eagle could see his dead but expression locked face that still bore the chem crazed features; foam clinging to his lips as his body convulsed with primal shudders with each bite into his flesh. His face bore a wicked smile, but his eyes betrayed the deep horror sealed within as the last light of life within him knew he wasn’t just dying; he was being eaten alive. Leisurely.

Eagle’s own face twisted into wide eyed disbelief of just the type of terrors The Hoof held, fighting the urge to cough in surprise he looked around to see if there would be any way to sneak past them. He saw a small passage on the ground between chariots that he could fit inside, but every instinctual urge in him demanded a different route, fearing that these mutants used such passages like tunnels in their nesting grounds.

Shaking his head of the thought and trying to form a plan, he wondered if he could get on top of the bus and if there would be more chariots to cross, avoiding the ground level wherever he could. Mentally shrugging, ‘only one way to find out’ he thought, and he slowly began to back into the bus before turning around with a silent prowl.

Only his pace was met with a jump of his heart followed by a thundering pulse that demanded all his self control not to fire his rifle by reflex. His eyes locked with opalescent glazed orbs, bereft of expression set in the mottled, faintly green tumor dotted face of an eight limbed mutant. They were empty, almost staring beyond and into him simultaneously beneath its off center horn. The grotesque body itself seemed to writhe beneath its cancerous, greasy, bleakly glossy flesh as if it struggled within its own form.

Eagle stood there, tense and prepared to pounce around it and make a break for it, except the thing just sat there with its tentacle feelers probing the air around it with its own body rigid, unmoving with a low and hollow guttering breath that reeked of sickeningly sweet rotten flesh. Eagle had to suppress every urge inside him to butcher the thing where it sat, but at the same time he was immensely confused as to why this thing just... sat there.

He moved his head slightly and peered at it almost sideways and it didn’t move a muscle in response. He raised a talon slowly and methodically and waved it back and forth, eliciting the same lack of motion from the creature. Only its greasy feelers moved at all between its rotten breaths that swelled the wretched monster.

Arching a brow with surprise, he looked down to the floor of the bus and found a small pebble and, with a silent motion, picked it up, looked back to the mutant before him. He arched his talon up and with a small toss it clattered behind it, and caught the beast’s attention. Its mouth tentacles began to sporadically shake and writhe like a thing possessed, and it spun itself around sluggishly with its uncoordinated limbs, and a hellish noise followed like a mixture of agonized moans and guttural primal anger.

It skittered and crawled to the pebbles landing spot at the far end of the bus, and taking advantage of the clear path Eagle made a hasty silent stride back up the stairs to the upper deck with nary a creak or groan from the steps.

‘So they’re blind but can hear noises,’ He thought. ‘might be able to smell too the way its... things were moving.’ The idea of these things having no sight was comforting, but the ease was replaced by fear at the thought that they could sniff him out. The wind was non existent in this tunnel save for a subtle breeze, but the only things his experience could protect himself against was sight and sound; smell lent a new layer of difficulty to this. He had no idea what would trip them off in that department. He assumed anything out of the ordinary or alien to the other mutants, but regardless he had no defense against it as far as he was concerned.

Sparing no more time to think in this pit, he looked about the upper deck as the sounds of fleshly crawling beneath him resonated in the chamber and found a small but open emergency hatch in the roof of the bus. Giving a little cat like leap he managed to grab the lip of the square hole and lift himself through the opening with little noise, but the small groans of rusted metal were replied to with the mutants same harrowing noise. On the roof now he took a moment to survey the area and found a precarious path of roofs and piled up chariots close to the tunnel’s ceiling that he could walk down with little trouble; as long as the metal could hold his weight.

He stepped forward, carefully shifting his mass with a cat like grace he prowled across the roof of the bus eliciting little noise from the metal as the mutants below him fed on the Jocks with stomach churning sounds of slurping and tearing.

After a ways of subtle creaks and moans of rusted steel he reached a small gap in the path before him. The next roof top he had to leap a short distance to reach it. He scowled sourly and girded himself for the worst, and leapt the distance with his wings outstretched to help glide down silently to no avail. He landed on the loud and sonorous creaking metal below him all manner of nasty and guttural animalistic shouts of the mutants resounded throughout the chamber, and with a sharp but stifled howl of pain Eagle felt the sting of some kind of warm acidic slime rocket into his right lower hind leg burning the coat and flesh beneath his barding.

He moved with urgency to the middle of the buss’ roof, and in decent cover he hunched down and held out his agonized and injured limb. His face twisted with pain, and despite the darkness he saw a subtle shimmering on it above the top of his paw’s boot. In a sudden panic he fished around in his pack for a canteen of water and poured some of its contents over the wound, trying to wash it off, but it only worked on his clothes. The burning sensation in the wound flared to an unbelievable height, bringing an adrenaline fueled gnashing of his beak, and he cursed as the pain felt unbearable.

He immediately brought a luminescent healing potion to his wound, pouring some of its contents over the sizzling flesh that helped immensely more. As the sensation dulled to a low throb in his muscles as the potion did its work knitting the flesh back to health and neutralizing any remainders of the acid.

“Note to self...” Eagle whispered in gravelly rasps between deep breaths as the pain dissipated. “Water doesn’t work on their acid... fucking hell they can spit acid...!”

As he turned around he saw several globs of the muck, highlighted by the subtle green glow from the mushrooms below, fly up through the air and arch down into sizzling piles with wet viscous thumps on the steel roofs of chariots. Shaking the lingering pain he tested his leg and once again in his life thanked the miraculous power of healing potions, finding it nearly as if it never had been hit in the first place.

Sketching out a rough path in his mind over the busses and chariot heaps he began again his swift cat like pace down them as the shrill mutants shrieked below. Now began the game of cat and mouse as Eagle crossed the rooftops and did his best to keep the noise of his passing to a minimum. It didn’t always work of course as every other landing either shifted or creaked no matter how delicately he stepped on it, and with each sounding of his presence it was followed by a monstrous shriek and a small barrage of acidic volleys he narrowly dodged as he watched them fly and fall in the dim green glow.

It wasn’t for several minutes of a harrowing gauntlet until Eagle had hit the end of the improvised walkways above the hellish creatures, and beyond him the ground was open save for a precious few scattered chariots laid out that could provide some cover. With that he cursed, trying to stomach the thought of crawling around with those things in the refuse as they numbered much more than he ever wanted to see. It felt like there were dozens of them down there lumbering in the shadows from the movements he could pick out.

The only girding thought he had was the fact that he could probably slip by with more success on stable asphalt instead of a line of wrecked rusty chariots, but the last thing he wanted to risk was close combat with them with the way he saw them rip flesh open on those Jocks, not to mention their obvious acidic capabilities. With a scowl he hopped off the scraped pile of vehicles, and he glided down softly onto the road; knife drawn he began his prowl inching forward into the bleak.

As Eagle strode forth with a pantherish silence, his pace was uneven and constantly halting as the grotesque mutants continued to block his path with their meandering shamble about the tunnel’s road. His view of them was faint at best with faintly green shimmering outlines, but the unnerving noises of moist guttural movements of leathery tattered flesh sliding against the asphalt forced him to reposition more times than he could count.

His sole deliverance was their lack of attention as time after time a small and subtle noise that would have at least caught the ears of patrolling sentries did nothing to phase these creatures. It helped even more when Eagle had tossed rocks or chunks of scrap metal out into the bleak beyond and with a primal wrath they descended to where the bait had fallen. Eagle mused to himself silently that it was almost like child’s play, albeit with some severe strings attached.

After a time of repetitious baiting and prowling, Eagle’s eyes began to pick out a subtle chromatic glowing ahead that seemed to radiate from a crater ahead. It wreathed the area in its multicolored malevolence, and with a silent cursing he knew his fears were confirmed. He was nearing the heart of the beasts’ lair, their true nest bathed in the invisible aura of magical radiation and taint. He crested the crater, a few chariots angled over the edge, and looked down into the massive hole, one that devoured the ground and sections of the tunnel’s walls and ceiling, and he saw them with his own eyes.

Barrels upon barrels of that poisonous and hellish liquid in its ironic rainbow shining splendor, piled up within a stagnant pool on the ground around them, the colors melded and swathed about in chaotic abstract forms, with at least two dozen of those visceral mutants wallowing in it like deranged pigs. The sight of them as they writhed, bending and flexing their malformed flesh cast in harsh contrasts of blended rainbow sheens twisted his guts, and an expression of disgust and instinctual fear grew on his face. His beak and eyes contorted as foul smells of burnt flesh accompanied the sight, and filled his nostrils.

This was nothing, however, compared to their groaning. Moist sounds mingled with the empty moans that exhibited pain from their absent minds as the taint’s aura touched and played at their insides. It healed and harmed them in concert and yet, with animalistic instinct, they clung to the barrels and goop like babes to their mother’s breasts. The sheer alien and monstrous spectacle locked Eagle’s eyes on the scene, and after collecting his thoughts his calculating mind returned, and discovered an even more terrifying prospect.

He would have to fly the gap across to get past them. A majority of the crater’s floor was covered in that taint, and what wasn’t was festering with those mutant creatures, or filled by sharp piles of concrete and metal scrap that served no use as a platform to cross.

Flying itself wasn’t the issue, rather the amount of noise flying actually made. These beasts were easy enough to distract with a tossed rock and slipping past but he had no measure up to now of how they would react to true wing beats in such an enclosed space, ones that would echo off the walls. He raced in his mind to come up with some plan to get past them, one after another dug a hole deeper into his fear that left him grasping for anything that would work; until one came that might. He dropped down and tore through his packs for a few moments before he withdrew a mine and a small round grenade.

With a wicked grin he pressed the small button on top of the disc, making the small light bulb beside it glow with a dull amber color.

“This should work well enough...” he spoke softly in a wicked gravelly tone, and he stood up on all fours and stretched his wings out while sighting ahead. There was an impromptu platform beyond that he could land on well enough, but further than that was lost in the darkness that provided no plan.

He shrugged off the indecision and girded himself to fly ahead, declaring a soft ‘fuck it’ as he hoisted the mine in his talon. He reviewed what he would do and stretched his limbs out; when to throw the mine, how long to wait after the explosion, dropping the grenade in on top of them as he flew over to keep them occupied, the running frenzy sure to follow if there were more beyond this crater, and a number of other things that followed as well.

Finally ready he handled the explosives in either talon, and with a subtle grace he threw the mine into the crater and mutants ahead like a discus, and he ducked for cover beneath a chariot beside him with a solid roof.

Soon after a short sequence of piercing beeps a deafening roar of fire filled the chamber that left a ringing in his ears, despite his clasping of them, and it was followed by a small shower of variously sized viscous droplets of glowing taint that scattered, followed by smoking debris and bloody chunks of tattered flesh that splattered on the road. A harrowingly pained screech of what felt like hundreds of mutants shouting in unison followed, and Eagle’s mind had to bolster against it.

The moment the falling remains stopped peppering the area Eagle leapt out of his cover, making an effort not to step in the scattered globs of taint, and made a running charge with a wing beat and soared over the crater at immense speed. He spared a glance at the destruction below him.

The scene was brutal, but oddly it comforted him as he pulled the pin from the grenade and dropped it into the mess of shredded mutants as more than half of them were missing body parts and writhed about in blind confusion. Some merely laid on the ground and looked more like dead meat clinging to bones while their ichor-like black blood mixed with the taint pool beneath them as it slowly oozed back into the gap the explosion made.

He pulled his eyes back ahead of him as he landed deftly on the other side of the crater, and he took a quick accounting of the terrain beyond as he counted down in his head the timer on the grenade. Four seconds left is what he had to clear the blast zone, and the road ahead gave no clear path he could pick out in as his mind pressed for haste. He beat his wings again, the whooshing noise filled the air joining with the ringing in his ears as he cleared the pile of vehicular carnage in front of him and flew above their scattered remains.

Three seconds.

As he hasted down the tunnel he felt the wind cut through his feathers and saw faintly several acidic blobs fly past him from below, and they forced him to dodge and weave through the air as he danced around the mutant’s attacks.

Two seconds.

He spied out ahead a small red light illuminating what looked like a rusted doorway with a pile of chariots around it. He dove for it with a mighty beat of his wings and flew at incredible speeds he closed the gap.

One second.

He reached the door and hastily grabbed the lever knob and tried it several times as he rammed his body into the door. He found it locked and quickly cursed as his revolver practically leapt into his talon. He aimed the barrel close to the space between the keyhole and the door frame and squeezed the trigger twice. The gunshots resounded with immense retorts in the enclosed space, but were quickly drowned in the scream of the massive explosion that signaled the grenade’s detonation, all followed by a repeated harrowing shriek of the mutants filling the chamber a second time.

In a mad panic Eagle rammed the door with his shoulder as he put all his body weight into the blow, and the door flew upon and dumped him onto the ground beyond it. A dimly lit room with scattered debris and furnishings, but without examining it he quickly he got up onto all fours and twirled about to see two or more of those mutants closing the distance between them, and with an instinctual bite of his battle saddle’s trigger he sent three roaring shots that cut the darkness away with bright orange and white muzzle blasts into the closest of the monsters; its chest heaved and threatened to spew acid at him.

The bullets buried themselves into its upper chest, with one blowing out a yawning hole into its head and the beast fell limply to the ground and shriveled brain matter and blood splattered around it. As its companions slid closer Eagle rushed forward, slammed the door shut and shoved his body against it. He looked around in frenzy and saw a large rusted filing cabinet close to him and he leapt to it, heaved its weight from the ground with considerable strain in his frame as he found it feeling full to bursting with mass inside. He practically threw it in front of the door as a brace and shoved it hard against the door with his side, and he felt the surges of strikes soon after as the beasts hammered the passage to open; the door rattled under their assault.

The beating sent vibrations throughout his body as the hinges on the door strained and cracked the concrete they were fixed into. Shortly after, however, the assault thankfully ended and with a deep inhalation between adrenaline powered gasps he sighed, dropped to the ground and sat there to relax and recollect his mind. His eyes automatically surveyed the room he was in as his ears worked to drown out the muffled screams of the mutants behind the door. There was a small ruined desk next to the place the filing cabinet was, and opposite of it a large tool cabinet of sorts busted open that betrayed its empty insides. A few posters lined the walls that were no longer legible but displayed the chromatic faces of prewar Ministry ponies, and the low light of a dull lamp in the ceiling that did little for visibility in the dilapidated surroundings.

Finding no immediate threat Eagle let his head down and laid there on the ground in front of the door catching his breath, and rested for a spell before he spoke in adrenaline taxed, low, and gravelly toned words dripping with revulsion as the shrill noise died away to a low roar.

“I fucking hate taint fiends...” he rose to his legs with a lethargic pace and took out one of his canteens from his pack and took a long drink from its metallic hinted water between labored breaths.

“Fucking hate them...”

*** *** ***

Shortly after winding his way through a few more tunnels, a generator room that clung to life just barely, and ascending from that underground hellscape he found himself staring to the outside world once again. Relief washed over him, his taxed body wishing he could simply crash then and there after the conflicts below, but he couldn’t. He wanted to put as much distance between him and the tunnels behind him as possible before putting himself in a dangerous position, so he tread forth and examined his surroundings.

He stood with the blown apart and crisply burnt terrain of some garage, one that was filled with scattered and blasted rusty chariots and a few blackened skeletons. Another graveyard it seemed, and he pressed on to the wide open entrance ahead.

He breathed in the fresh open air that poured from it with immense relief as he stared up into the dim dawn hued cloud smothered sky above. The parking garage was set a decent ways up the mountain side, and the crisscrossing road leading up to it stretched into the valley below into a great expanse beyond; the view half filtered by a lingering fog that hung in the air like a mist.

Despite it though, Eagle’s euphoria of being out of the tunnels was drowned by the ominous sight of some city from afar. The fog itself removed any clarity to its visage, but the early morning low light was dark enough for this... terrible emerald green glow that Eagle had never seen before.

Its skyscrapers towered over the walls that surrounded it, cutting vicious silhouettes in its green glow that mocked the surrounding ruins in their derelict bombed states. The only sound present was that of eerie wind that whistled in the cool morning mountain breeze, and the bracing air acted as a subtle relief for Eagle’s mind as he took in the sight of the looming necropolis.

He stood on the precipice of discovery, it seemed. He recounted the tales, of an emerald graveyard that stood, nearly untouched, in the center of the valley; glowing with an ominous threat or promise of destruction akin to prophecy. Eagle was never a griffon for superstition, but the visage of the skyscrapers piercing the vale of clouds above, tall enough to dwarf any other Equestrian city still standing, set his neck feathers on end and for a time stood enraptured in vile premonitions.

He sighed and closed his eyes, broke the stare and just took in the wind as it cut through his feathers. It eased the tensions of the fight before, and he breathed evenly and metered and stood there for a short time before finally opening his eyes and sighted down the road below as it stretched down into the valley. He stretched out his wings and, with a shortleap, he descended down with a swift glide letting the mountain air carry him the distance. Heglanced this way and that as he searched for a place where he could make camp and rest before heading out again to meet the rendezvous team.

He needed the sleep, and he wasn’t due to meet them in roughly a day and a half or so anyways with the pace he managed to keep getting to the Hoofington border. Finding one such place ahead of him, a small building further down the road, he changed direction and glided to it settling down in front of it deftly and trudged the rest of the distance with his pistol drawn.

He reached the dilapidated building he saw it was your standard fare for ruins in the post war world, half crumbling concrete remains with rubble scattered about and rebar jutting from chunks here and there, and the inside of the place bore the same qualities only with a few desks, tables, chairs, and other furnishings that littered the floor in various states of decay amongst miscellaneous debris.

Most importantly however, utterly abandoned and desolate of life; except for him.

Deeper within Eagle had found was he was looking for, an enclosed room that would serve as a bedroom for the time he would use it, and after tearing the legs off of a table he set the broad piece of partially rotten wood onto the ground as his bed and draped his olive drab army blanket, that was patched and stitched back together in spots, over the board. He made a small campfire in the room’s center from the legs of the table and several other wooden scraps along with burnt beyond legible books he found around the building.

Taking off his harness, coat, and hat with a sluggish aching pace he stretched and relaxed into his impromptu campsite, and after setting a tripwire mine trap outside his door he sunk to his haunches on his 'bed', and stared long into the flame before him.

He took in the warmth of the fire as he laid there holding his now quarter empty moonshine bottle in a talon. He eyed it with reluctant desire as he twirled the liquid around within it, the night having taken its toll on him. Taking a few short pulls from the drink his face screwed up with disgust, and after a short while most of his aches and pains slowly dissipated to a dull and distant discomfort as the alcohol did its work.

His paws and talons felt the tingly and loose sensation as it crept further up his body, and after stoking the fire a bit, corking his drink and doing a routine weapons check and eating a little he sighed deeply, got as comfortable as his sleeping arrangement allowed and curled up as he stared into the flame before him.

Shortly thereafter did he plunge into a deep sleep, warmed by the fire and eased by drink he once again camped in the wasteland’s wilds after such a day that begged a different line of work as he had done so many times before in his life. Alone, in utter silence save for the crackling of flame as a companion, its warmth a poor substitute for the comfort he wanted. It was some comfort nevertheless. In such a depraved world of monsters and terrors any creature, no matter their form, takes comfort where they can find it when they allowed themselves the pleasure.

One might go mad otherwise, or break so thoroughly that they live for nothing but to spite death; fighting tooth and hoof, clinging to life for no better reason to stay alive despite lacking a reason to remain living. In the wasteland there is precious little anodyne for the pain, the suffering. Pure, unadulterated obstinance really as some would say, or rather the last dying gasps of a great creature battling for just a minute more in the face of death, defiant and too prideful to lie down and pass away. Creatures in such pain will cling to hope, and the warm promises of such small comforts.

If only to help them forget their pains, before facing them once again when they wake.

Footnote: Red Eagle maximum level

Chapter 7: You and Me

Chapter 7: You and Me

The Following morning was a strenuous repeat of almost all of Red Eagle’s mornings before. He dragged his aching form from his inadequate campsite and the routine of eating breakfast, usually an old and near tasteless ration of prewar Equestria, and the gathering of his things from traps to trinkets back into his packs. The air was musty, hinted with dampness as the dust clung to the evening light that snuck into the crevices of the walls and windows.

The sluggish pace of an alcohol laden awakening made his limbs echo the soreness in them with every step, and above all the silence, save for the rasping of his own garb, that made his ears ring pierced his senses and agitated him more than anything.

The only exception to his bleak and monotonous ‘morning’ was emerging from the ruins and again seeing the menacing emerald necropolis of Hoofington beyond, glowing faintly in the darkened landscape and cloud wreathed skies that wrapped around its central massive tower. His expression turned sour at the visage, only with the apprehension borne of truly beginning his journey towards the hellscape that promised nightmares.

The trek up to this point was at least framed in his mind as ‘in the general direction’ of The Hoof, now he saw clear as day the city in all its terror, in addition to that he now had to keep the pace as he glared at the city. A thought scratched at the back of his mind that sent all his survival instincts aflame as well, that the green haze stared back.

Shaking his head he groaned as he wrestled with the notion, and worked up the stomach to tread any closer, or rather the stupidity he mused, as only a true fool would willingly walk any further. Shelving the dilemma he girded his limbs for the journey forward, adjusted his hat better to fit his head he scoffed with a half smirk.

“I guess I am a fool...”

After staring long into the city beyond, he finally shook the visage from his gaze and withdrew his PipBuck from its worn canvas bag and flipped the switch to pull it from rest mode. After clicking ‘Data’ then ‘Automaps’ he adjusted the screen to display his location and the rendezvous point together. The distance was relatively short, half a day’s travel at most near the mountain range that bordered the northern edge of The Hoof, but his musings on a carefree stroll were quickly doused by the fact he knew there was no such thing as a stroll in The Hoof.

He etched out a general path between his position and the destination that kept him a good distance from the rough hewn building markers that the map scattered about, and marked the location shown on the map to make a heading through the destruction in the valley. He put the PipBuck back in its satchel after putting it into rest mode and eyed down the winding road below, spread his wings, and gave a hesitant running leap from the mountain side with a glide.

He continuously repeated in his mind that the moment he got the package he would do his damnedest to get out of there as soon as possible, back to the relative safety of empty barren wasteland. He wouldn’t spend an hour more in The Hoof than was absolutely necessary. His doubts however, just as his own reassurances, repeated in line with all his thoughts that unfortunately what would be necessary would be too long already; worse as well The Hoof didn’t seem to let go of anything without a fight, regardless of its value.

*** *** ***

Nightfall came long into his desperate pace, and the strange mixture of evening orange and ebon blackness that washed over the dense clouds that refracted the light amongst the green glow of Hoofington played with Red Eagle’s senses. It felt as if it was taunting him, or welcoming him with limbs outstretched wearing a wicked grin, like that of a dragon bearing teeth shining with emerald gleams.

The low groan of the wind that weaved through the valley’s open spaces echoed in his ears like the low, near inaudible growling of a distant monster, and his imagination painted a grisly image for the grumble to belong to. Despite himself, he soldiered on in such a way that he gave little time to remain in menacing ruminations. His eyes carefully scanned the visible surroundings, as if searching for one such monster he envisioned, and thankfully he found nothing more than the rubble or strewn rocks that littered the world so commonly.

The worst monsters Eagle faced were his own thoughts it seemed as he made his battle march forward. Given time to think, by the opinion of many who walk such roads, is perhaps the worst enemy any creature can face In the end it took either courage or arrogance to face down such threats, nevermind the formless hearsay of other witlessly scared creatures, but Eagle felt he really didn’t have either.

Idiocy then, was his only explanation for why his talons and paws continued to fall forward; a conclusion that he had already made before but continued to tell himself as the terribly gleaming city grew in his lingering gaze.

“One paw in front of the other...” He said to himself in a near whisper as he tried to shake his thoughts unsuccessfully. His eyes were set wide as they scanned the horizon of light that remained in the evening world around him. Deeper into the darkness he tread, feeling the suspense in his very bones as his head feathers practically stood on end and feeling even darker shadows loom in The Hoof.

“One step at a time...” He grumbled under his breath, immensely agitated at all the things that barraged his mind at once. In the end he followed his own advice. Slowly he advanced deeper into The Hoof against all better judgment with the low breeze and Hoofington’s ebon emerald glowing spires as his only companions.

*** *** ***

For what had felt like an eternity Red Eagle prowled through the ebon black night of the valley, avoiding the hazy silhouettes of large buildings and kept to the open spaces between them. Subtle, but alarming noises and shapes in the shadows played at the very edges of his senses, all of which taunted him and halted his progress with sudden stops to ensure there were no predators hidden and out for his blood. It always ended with nothing more than shadow warped wrecks of junk or some shifting rubble from small creatures that dug for shelter in his passing, and the chief concerning sounds were those of distant gunshots that echoed in dull reports through the night.

Time after time his muscles tensed and his senses sharpened with suspense driven adrenaline that left his mind weary and irritated, and in that darkness he stifled his desire to groan or grumble and afforded only momentary breaks to rest his limbs and drink from his canteens.

Eventually he reached a small hamlet of ruined buildings that matched his PipBuck’s map from the afternoon before, and with a catlike grace he lurked into the square shaped collection of blasted buildings. Deeper inside the inner square he heard the subtle sounds of movement that emanated from within a building on the northern side.

The sounds piqued his interest as they matched the general pattern of a pony’s pacing, though edged with a dull mechanical clank with each step. Unless his ears deceived him it sounded like the steps of power armor on concrete, which upon realizing it he immediately knew the rendezvous team was already here.

The chances of a simple gang of raiders having a functioning power armor suit were remarkably slim; let alone them being able to use it properly. More importantly, he thought, why would they be pacing here in some ruins without lights or controlling the square as an impromptu camp to keep safe? No, these ponies were working incognito, trying to keep hidden, and Mayor Madame had already told Eagle the Enclave’s politics had prevented them from making the delivery themselves.

Eagle looked around the area, remarking to himself that this must be close to a sort of no fly zone. The Enclave, consisting of pegasi, had the means to use the old pre-War mechanicals like regular chariots all the way to the heavily armored sky-tanks. He eyed for lights or shapes flying in the sky and found nothing; thankfully as a sky-tank would be a terror to deal with.

He returned his eyes to the direction of the subtle din of the pacing armor and girded himself to meet with now was presumably some of the ‘Enclave’s finest’. A mission like this would be kept quiet where they came from, to keep the political situation easy, and there was no telling what preparations they’d take from whatever they expected from a night’s venture like this.

He approached and as he neared the building it emanated from the noise grew sharper and clearer, now he was certain of what it was as the subtle details of hydraulic sounds and the dull clanging of metallic hooves followed a clear path back and forth, coupled with the quiet dialogue of several strangely accented ponies within. Their speech was filtered by what sounded like a speaker common to power armor helmets, but finer hewn and had better pronunciation than Eagle was used to, but their actual words were of like that of common soldiers. The pacing hoofsteps carried the voice of a hushed stallion, hard and impatient with a hint of a grizzled attitude.

“Where in Tartarus is that bastard? We’ve been waiting here for too damn long as it is. We need to clear out of here ay-sap.” His voice was replied by a mare’s, equally impatient and hard but carried by an agitated sigh.

“As I’ve been saying for the past few hours Lieu; I don’t know. Pacing around and chewing your bit won’t bring the courier any faster. Besides, we’ve held radio silence this whole time. Nothing short of a spy is going to catch us here holding the bag.”

“That’s what I’m worried about; we don’t need a spectacle of two renegade teams going back at the same time reporting a violated treaty. Shit’s simmering as it is.” The mare gave another deep sigh.

“Lieu, I know. You haven’t let us forget that fact for an hour here.” The pacing stopped and Eagle heard the power armor’s shifting hoofsteps as he presumably turned to face the mare.

“Good. You ought to be aware of how fast shit can get hot if this goes south. We’re not even a mile from the no-fly and you’re not even breaking a sweat thinking about it.”

“All due respect sir I’m not paid to think about it, the corporal badge doesn’t come with those headaches.” The stallion gave a groaning sigh of his own and continued pacing about for a time before stopping again and with a louder proclamation aired his aggravation.

“Damn it, where is he?! He’s late!”

On that note Eagle rapped the door with three solid knocks that brought all the inhabitants scrambling to their metallic hooves in unison with the sounds of charging weapons; magic based energy weapons he recognized. Eagle called out those within with a loud and clear voice, but gravelly all the same.

“Fashionably late actually!” the remark was received with a few more seconds of shuffling hydraulic metal hooves, as he figured they were arranging around the door for better battle positions, and after the noise settled he heard the officer’s helmet filtered words ring out from within with a commanding voice.

“Password?!” Eagle’s face scowled for a moment as he quickly answered his greeting.

“Password? I was never told a damn password, just a standard exchange op.” At that he heard the receding hoofsteps and the dull unintelligible whispers of the two soldiers, and after a few short seconds he heard the officer’s voice again clearly.

“Alright enter, slowly! Hooves where I can see them and any horns better be dim!” Eagle scoffed a little from the comment under his breath with the edge of a smile on his beak. Shaking his head he grasped the lever knob on the door and slowly pushed the door open as commanded. The door let out a low groan of rusted hinges, and around the door’s edges emanated the low gleam of a magically powered lantern within set upon a table in the center of the room. It cast everything around it, including the scattered supplies and packs of the rendezvous team, in its pale yellow light.

Eagle saw the shapes the voices belonged to as he tread slowly inside the room, standing in full suits of practically unscathed Enclave powered armor with subtle reflections of the lamp’s light, making light refract in nearly dazzling ways. Especially in the eyes, as they were large and insectoid with a hexagonal pattern netting the yellow-orange surface that gleamed menacingly in the lowlight. Behind their helmets floated around what was another nasty mechanical addition to their armor’s natural fear factor. A barbed stinger with a long and sharply pointed spike stemmed by elegantly forged metal plates and micro hydraulics that formed a sheath around their tails, ready to lunge forth with alarming speed like that of a poisoned dagger.

The most remarkable details of their forms were of course their armored wings, held out a short distance from their bodies postured like an animal would to frighten their prey, or predators. Pegasi weren’t necessarily an oddity to Eagle, as being a griffon himself all ponies seemed odd, but usually he dealt with earth ponies or unicorns almost exclusively. It was a rare sight regardless to see pegasi anywhere in the wasteland, any that weren't dashites like Black Water from last week that is.

They were set a fair ways apart, creating a small crossfire zone in the doorway with their equally well maintained magical energy weapons mounted to their sides tracked him as he slowly made his way through the door; the tips glowing dully with crackling green energy.

The corporal mare to the right was the first to speak, her words echoed subtly in the room as she kept rigid, gaze trained on Eagle’s form. “Shit, a griffon. Intel dropped the ball.”

“I’m aware.” The officer spoke flatly with a slight dip of his head to the side. “We were told it was going to be a dirt slogger courier, but you’re not even a pony. Who sent you?” Eagle turned his head and locked his hat curtained eyes with the insectoid helmet of the lieutenant, his glare matching the intensity of the pony’s armor and a voice to match.

“That would be Madame Mayor, Lieu. Out of Crystal City.” The mention of rank made the corporal audibly snicker with a shift of her armor, and the officer maintained his rigid trained stance as Eagle continued. “I hope you don’t mind a little eavesdropping. Had to know if you were the rendezvous team or not, lieutenant. For the record, I didn’t see any sky-tanks on approach.”

The officer visibly relaxed a little with his stinger tail and wings lowering, but he kept a firm battle stance with his weapon pointed toward Eagle. The mare remarked with a low voice followed with the same sounds of shifting armor that the officer had emitted relaxing. “Well, at least he’s an educated land-lover.”

The officer gave a quick lift of his head and spoke sharply in response as Eagle stood with his own rigidness, maintaining the glare and following the officer’s visor plates.

“Button it up corporal.” With an equally sharp return of his helmeted face he eyed Red Eagle up and down where he stood. He seemed to appraise him, calculating his trust of him. Eventually he spoke in quick but clear words. “If I didn’t know better I’d say that the mayor would never ‘stoop’ herself to hiring a griffon, knowing her dossier. What are your credentials?”

“The name ‘Red Eagle’ mean anything to you?” Eagle’s voice was low and coarse, and the slight reverberations carried his words as they dripped with intimidation. The officer seemed to be visibly uncomforted by the mention, and the mare voiced his mind nearly identically with a long winded whistle that was silenced by a darting glare of the officer.

“We’ve heard of you. I must admit I’m surprised; if half your reputation is to be believed you’re good, but that doesn’t change the plan. You’re to get the ‘package’ out of the hoof ay-sap. I assume you know the drop off point?”

Eagle gave him a curt nod, and glared about the room with lingering eyes, he bore a burning curiosity to finally see the whole point of this venture in the first place. “What is the package, actually? The mayor was intent on keeping that under wraps.”

The question had been burning a hole in his mind for the entire journey so far, and it was well past due for him to know the answer. The officer gave his own curt nod that emanated the low shifting of his armor, and motioned a hoof to the corporal as he spoke. “Go wake her, it’s time we wrap this up and bail. Madame was good to at least keep that much protocol though; it’s a... sensitive exchange, to say the least. You’d do well to remember that this never happened, unless you want a possible war to tear your skies down, surfacer.”

Eagle tilted his head at his choice of words as the corporal trotted beeline through a hallway behind her. ‘Wake her?’ he thought, and his eyes squinted with confusion as he turned his head to peer down the rubble strewn passage all but swallowed by shadows.

A minute later at the most he heard the returning stride of power armor from within and the corporal emerged from the shadows with a peculiar, meek looking unicorn pony in tow behind her. The mare was small, and judging by the sprightly youth in her bright slate blue face and brilliantly blonde, neck length bobbed mane, was probably no older than mid-adolescence. Her stance and stride were that of a shy child almost, and her expression matched with an edge of dreariness like she had been sleep deprived that her radiant almost cyan eyes betrayed.

The most peculiar detail however was that beneath her near pristine, albeit dust matted mixture of ballistic fiber and combat armor barding was the unforgettable gold striped, deep blue Stable suit, numbered Ninety-Six on her unbuttoned collar, and a leg mounted PipBuck that sat serenely on her left foreleg.

Eagle’s eyes looked her up and down from horn to hoof, and locked his eyes with hers and stared deep into her fearful eyes. He measured her anxious expression for a time in absolute stillness, and he realized that the package was not a ‘what’, but a ‘who’. Sharply turning his head back to the officer with a glaring scowl he spoke in a low and dangerous tone. “An escort job out of The Hoof? Are you pegasi crazy?”

The officer gave a chuckle that was visible in his armor, and shrugged his shoulders as Eagle maintained his gaze. “I said the same thing to my see-oh., but yes. We would have just flied her out but with certain tensions that’s not possible; only a ground op is. An op you’re being paid for I recall. Exquisitely.”

Eagle sharply turned his gaze, keeping the dangerous glare as he met her eyes again. The stare made her flinch subtly and she turned her head slightly as if his gaze was that of a cockatrice, threatening to turn her into stone. Eagle walked up to her and faced her chest to chest and looked down at her small pony frame, and judging by her subtle trembling she could collapse if he simply said ‘boo’.

“Look at me.” Eagle said with his low and gravelly voice, and after some effort she managed to do so, staring into his deep dark blue eyes his expression hard and calloused; her eyes tracing the long vicious scar across Eagle’s right eye from brow to jaw. He examined her features and her expression with far more acuity however.

The fear was practically tangible, and he squinted his eyes to near slits as he focused on her. He concluded she wasn’t afraid of him or her escorts specifically, but it was an ever so present trait of Stable dwellers recently freed of their gilded prisons. A ‘fish out of water’ look mixed with confusion and general fear of everything they saw, unable to understand or objectify anything beyond their tunnels of steel and concrete deep below the surface; Stables that served as prewar Equestria’s solution to the total annihilation of world war.

After a few moments absorbing the realization, he eyed down to her sides and saw a holster mounted to her barding's harness. Within it was what looked like a pistol of sorts, but it looked more computer than mechanical weapon; a magic pistol and classic staple of Enclave engineering.

He returned his eyes to hers and spoke again in a flat, coarse voice. “Know how to use that?” After a moment’s time of processing the question she made a slow skittish glance at the pistol on her side, and nodded making her blonde mane give a petite bounce around her horn. Her expression softened a touch, and a small smirk growing on the edge of her lips.

“Have you used it before?” he pressed immediately after her answer, raising his brows with an almost accusing tone, and her expression returned to that she had before; all signs of joy stripped from her features. Hanging her head low she gave a slow and possibly shameful shake of her head.

“Thought so...” he lifted his head and closed his eyes processing the situation. He shook his head briefly and turned until he could meet the officer’s helmet, looking at him sideways. “Getting into The Hoof was bad enough for one experienced merc, and now you want me to get back out with a fresh faced Stable dweller whose violence cherry hasn’t even been popped?”

The soldier repeated his shrug again with a dismissive turn of his helmet. “As I said, said the same to my see-oh”

Eagle turned his head and drilled holes into the wall ahead of him with a distant and calculating glower, and after a moment turned to see the mare. Her face wore growing faint red blushes on her cheeks, and he had to stifle a scoff as he looked at her embarrassedfeatures. “She’s a prude too.”

The statement made her features harden into an angered glare as the embarrassment turned her faintly sky blue cheeks almost crimson, and she locked her cyan eyes with Eagle’s in disbelief accusing him of rudeness. He gave a small, nearly invisible smirk that curled the very edge of his beak and muttered under his breath. “Hmm... at least there’s some fire there.”

Eagle heard the officer make a few steps with the noisy hydraulic metal hooves of his armor, and the soldier spoke quickly and succinctly with a voice of authority. “Well, now that the ‘introductions’ are in order we need to move. Been squatting here too long as it is.”

Eagle turned back to face him and glowered at his insectoid eyes, speaking with an accusing and doubtful voice as the officer made motions to pack up and leave abruptly. “Nowwait a moment, I can barely guarantee my own safety getting out of here. Nevermind dragging her along with me.”

The officer returned his gaze as he was fiddling with the small lamp set on the table, speaking with a soldierly tone. “Well you’re going to have to manage, we are under orders to take her here and leave when the exchange is made. We can’t take her back with us.”

Eagle scoffed under his breath as the soldier prattled off his orders. He shook his head as he looked back at the mare’s anxious eyes and she looked up to his from a lowered head. “What’s your name girl?”

The mare’s eyes lit up ever so slightly and stammered out her response as she mounted the courage to speak for the first time in the entire meeting. Surprisingly her higher pitched voice matched her appearance for cuteness; if she wasn’t stuttering from shyness that is.

“S-Sparks, s-sir.” As she stood there, she raised her face to see Eagle’s better, cracked a small and nervous smile across her lips. “What’s yours?”

“Red Eagle.”

He took a moment looking at Sparks’ gear as the soldiers scrambled across the campsite, packing all their gear for the journey home. Eagle felt at least a bit empathetic to the notion; the faster he got out of there the better but he was nervous in a sense playing a v.i.p. game. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes as his mind ran through the options, and finally he opened them and stared down to the Stable mare with intensity.

He would have, at that point, done the smart thing; the survivor’s thing. Refused the deal and walked away leaving her to her fate if the Enclave wasn’t to take her back, only his ears caught the ever so subtle, but distant and unforgettable sounds that spelled terror to wastelanders who played the mouse to this cat.

Engines. Eagle tilted his head, turned about face to the officer as he squinted his eyes and focused, nearly whispering. “Do you hear that?”

The officer and corporal stopped in the middle of their routine, and the former looked up at Eagle, his expression masked by his helmet. “What do yo-”

“Shut up, listen.”

Eagle's demand agitated the officer, but he tilted his head and listened intently in the near silence of the room. Upon hearing it, his body shot to motion as he packed even faster than before and spoke with the lighting quickness of a soldier under fire. “Son of a bitch!Alright corporal we need to get scarce, that’s a sky-tank in the air and we cannot get captured, understood?”

The corporal threw a short salute in the frantic packing. “Understood!”

“Red Eagle, I thought you said there wasn’t air on approach” The lieutenant glared at Eagle’s eyes that looked around, trying to place a direction on the noise.

“The skies were clear the entire walk here.”

“They must have crested the mountain range just now then. Alright, grab Sparks and get out of here. We can pop a flare out a ways to get them off your trail, just going to have to play an expert game of cat and mouse back to Thunderhead.”

Eagle tilted his head at the sudden generosity of the officer as he threw his packs onto his back. “You do that and your cover’s blown, you know?”

“As it stands it already is, sky-tanks don’t just ‘appear’ without good reason, and it doesn’t matter who is flying that, they’re in the no-fly zone.”

Eagle stood there and shook his head, giving the officer a cold look. “Don’t worry about covering my ass; I can get out of here. Besides, if that aircraft is truly coming here intentionally it might not take the bait. May even see it as an intentional diversion tactic and scour this place while we’re still in it.”

“Good point; alright then, good luck. You’ll both need it.”

The soldiers made their way out of the building in single file before Eagle could object, and once clear he heard their impressive hydraulic stomping gallop of fully powered armor soldiers bolting off into the distance. Eagle glowered at the space, now dark as midnight with nothing but the sounds of the night to stimulate the senses. A slightly sparkling cyan glow filled the room however, accompanied by the low twinkling noise typical of unicorn spells, and an equally subtle click and a warbling electronic noise that followed a dim green glow from behind him.

He looked behind him and saw Sparks with her PipBuck bearing leg up to her face as she fiddled with it using her telekinetic magic. The screen glowed brightly, cutting back the darkness as her magic faded leaving the greenish glow of her PipBuck’s lamp.

The expression of fear remained, but now it was edged with uncertainty as she spoke in a stammering voice. “A-alright then... what now Mr. Eagle? I c-can tell you... really don’t w-want to take me along, but... it’s important that I get to th-... Crystal C-city.”

He squinted his eyes again and measured her determination, and wondered how well she would fare against an Enclave troop if they really were coming here. Few could handle one of their soldiers alone, which wasn’t surprising really. What hope did most experienced creatures have against power armor decked in some of the most terrifying weapons ponykindhas been known to make?

Never mind a fresh faced Stable dweller.

Eagle scowled and locked his eyes with hers, standing chest to chest again as the light from her PipBuck cut their features in harsh contrasts against the room. He spoke with a low and cold voice as he inquired earnestly. “Will you be able to keep up? This is important; if you can’t keep up don’t step up.”

“What w-would happen if I c-can’t?”

“You’ll just die.”

The words struck her mind like a gale force hammer, her eyes shot wide and her expression turned into a far more thorough fear than she exhibited before. Despite herself though, she mustered the bravery to give the façade she could, puffing her chest out and standing with her head held high and her cyan eyes blazing with resolve. Even doing this, her eyes barely met Eagle’s collar in height. “Anything for home.”

Eagle stared long into her eyes, defiant and brave now that she had found her courage. The choice of words was surprising to him, and conjured memories in his mind that made him uneasy. He gave a curt nod breaking eye contact, and turned about making his way to the door. “Hmm. Alright then, stay quiet and on my six, and turn down the light. We can’t afford to be discovered.”

Sparks stood there fiddling with her PipBuck again telekinetically as the light dimmed down to levels that barely allowed her any remote clarity of vision, and shortly after she looked up with a puzzled face. “Your... s-six? What do you mean?”

Eagle just groaned a sigh as he shook his head raising a brow, staring at her flatly. “My six, as in behind me.”

Realization flashed across her face and she walked up behind him stretching out her legs one after another. “Oh! O-okay then, I can do that.”

“Now, it’s important that you understand this. If I stop moving, you stop. If I start running, you follow as fast as you can. I tell you to be quiet, so help me if you speak or ask questions...”

Sparks’ expression went from the timid mare to one whose agitation showed, as if she was lectured non-stop for the past few days on this very subject. She let out a sigh and frowned slightly. “I got it, ‘do what you tell me to do’, and ‘follow your lead’. I already got an earful in that regard from those two soldiers.”

Eagle just glowered at her sudden burst of defiant energy. He shook his head faintly and turned to face the outside and glared out into the near pitch blackness as the dull green lamp light cut soft shadows stretching into the bleak. “I suppose that will have to work.”

As Eagle and Sparks made their way out the building the night sky was barren of any lights, save for two. The ever present ensemble of menacing emerald gleaming buildings to the south that bathed the surrounding clouds in their green hues, and a pair of white lights mounted to the nose of some distant shadow out to the northwest high in the skies above The Hoof.

The latter he spent a few seconds to gauge it’s heading, and a scowl grew on his face as he saw the flying machine draped in shadow flying in their direction. “We need to move, now.”

“Right behind you chief.”

As Eagle darted out of the door he kept close to the western building line, with Sparksbehind him trying to match his pace and only barely succeeding, and they edged the town square and kept to the deeper shadows that clung to the row. Occasionally Eagle had stopped in front of alleyways and spied out into the visible sky, hoping that eventually the sky-tank would change its course. Every time though his hopes were dashed as the lights on the aircraft continued to grow closer and closer, but never changing its course.

He eyed behind him at the dogged mare whose breathing was offbeat and in large gasps of air, and scowled in thought. He turned back toward her and faced her as she looked up, panting as she did, and Eagle pointed a claw at her PipBuck. “Alright, show me the map on that thing.”

She continued to breathe deeply trying to gain control of herself, and eyed him in an expression of confusion. “W-what for?”

Eagle glowered at her intensely. He thrust his talon forward, demanding his order be followed. “You want to live?”

She gave a gasping swallow as her face screwed up at the question. “Of... of course I do!”

“Then remember what I just told you, what I say goes. Now show me your map.” Her expression became one of slight embarrassment, and despite her breathless state managed to clam up as she clicked several buttons at once on her PipBuck quickly with her magic and held the foreleg out for Eagle to see.

It was as he feared, and the scowl on his face grew to an agitated and morbid stature. The group of buildings was alone in the middle of the valley; the closest grouping was at best a quarter mile off. No shadows to prowl in but the midnight veil, and he feared the arsenal that a sky-tank might be carrying on board. Just a squad of power armor units meant serious trouble, never mind if the sky-tank itself bore weapons, or arcano-tech for spying out targets.

If it did, all it would take is one panning spotlight and all Tartarus could be brought down upon them; if even. He quickly processed the dilemma in seconds as Sparks caught control of her breathing and he spied around for a relatively intact building. Finding one further in the direction they were headed before he nodded and faced her again.

“Alright, here’s the plan. You’re going to bunker down inside a building up ahead. It should be intact enough to make a good hiding spot. We can’t outrun that aircraft on the ground, so we play it smart.” Sparks’ lips began to mouth a question that never saw the light of day, as she quickly remembered Eagle’s words. She nodded with a sour expression, speaking softly as if the sky-tank would have been able to hear her from there.

“Okay, lead the way.”

Eagle gave no recognition of her words, save for a fast twirl and galloping dash ahead that Sparks barely managed to match as her loud hoof falls echoed on the pavement of the cracked and sundered sidewalk. Reaching the building that Eagle was content with he turned into the doorway with a catlike elegance as his charge came to a sudden stop, sliding a little from the exertion inside the door. “Get in here, quick! We don’t have much time!”

As Sparks regained control of her hooves she slid into the building and meekly looked about at the near pitch blackness alleviated solely by her PipBuck’s light. The rubble strewn about mingled with ruined furnishings and counters, but a stairwell that led downwards was where Eagle peered into with a cold, calculating stare. His intensity confused her.

‘Does a sky-tank pose that much of a threat, being Enclave and all?’ she thought briefly until Eagle motioned sharply for her to descend deeper into the basement, speaking quickly and sharply with his unbelievably coarse and grave voice. “You’re to hide down there somewhere well hidden; a cubbyhole, closet, anything that makes you hard to spot. When you get settled, turn off your lamp and wait for me there. No matter what you hear, do not leave unless it’s me, and only me to get you. Understand?”

Her expression voiced all her questions at the barrage of commands, ranging from concern to fear in unison, and Eagle repeated himself with even more intensity than before. “Do you understand me!?”

The sudden outburst caught her off guard and she quickly threw her head into a nod, stammering as she spoke. “Y-Yes! yes I do!”

“Good,” Eagle said coldly and made a beeline past her back through the door. He spoke flatly as he exited the building. “If I’m not back in fifteen minutes at most, you’re on your own.”

The coldness in his eyes frightened Sparks beyond terror, limbs locked by the prospect of surviving this terrible place by herself; alone. Spurred into motion by sheer fear alone she made her way down the stairwell, and Eagle watched her descend into the dark as her PipBuck’s light trailed off leaving the pitch black behind. He turned about and stared off into the square beyond, and gave a long winded sigh as he made his last decision whether to leave her to her fate.

Quickly processing one thought after another, among them being fears for his own hide if he went back to... well, anywhere near Crystal City in the future. He wouldn’t be welcome there for breaking this contract and he would have had to stay in the south, and that was all but suicide for him. Besides, he reminded himself that he didn’t break contracts; it wasn’t in his nature to do so.

Such a ‘noble’ thought made him grimly grumble at the prospect as he heard the engines nearing in the sky. His nobility was about to have him face down a whole squad of the Enclave’s finest and every survival instinct hammered into him by two decades of being a lone wolf screamed at him to ditch his sensibilities for common sense.

As his mind battled for his decision he heard in the very edges of his mind what could have been described as a dry, cackling chuckle as a fleshless jaw hinged on its skull. His own thoughts gave it a voice, and its words spoke with his darkest, most selfish desires.

‘Leave the girl to her fate. You’ve done so before; abandoning those who trusted you in times of need. It won’t hurt, no where near as much when you started...’

He reached a talon up to his armor’s collar instinctually as his eyes dimmed with an all consuming feeling of emptiness, and took out the subtly gleaming silver pendant beneath his shirt. He stared long at the scuffed and tarnished surface as it laid in his talon while his hunter’s eyes slowly adjusted to the near pitch blackness and filled out the details of the dull silver face. He clicked the small button on its side opening the precious keepsake to reveal the picture within, meticulously kept clean and clear as best as the weathered years allowed.

Her beautifully green eyes beamed through him, gently caressing his darkest thoughts and lulling them into a dull distant rumble. He spoke solemnly and morosely as he felt a sudden sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach grow. “No... she wouldn’t agree.”

Giving a deep sigh he girded himself as the sky-tank’s echoing engine rumble resounded clearly and promised death to those who opposed it. He slid the pendant back into his armor after closing it and assuming his sullen battle haze, eyes glossed over by the cold and calculating motors of war that turned in his head.

No, he would not leave this Stable mare to her grisly fate sure to happen, like a ship without wind or rudder to guide it and abandoned in the middle of the sea. He would not give himself another reason to drink into a stupor. He was going to add another tale as to why the fearing wastelanders eyed him with suspenseful terror, why they called him ‘Red Eagle’.

“Let’s dance.” He stretched himself out within the confines of his armor, his body loosening with resounding pops as he trailed off into the gloom, with nary a sound from his paws and talons.

*** *** ***

Sparks sat there in the pitch black basement, cuddled up as she shook uncontrollably behind a large cabinet that took considerable effort to pry from its wall. She had heard indescribable sounds, even underground as she was; sounds of explosions, ranging from small and muffled like gunshots to loud and ground shaking reports of destruction spaced out in sporadic intervals without sense or pattern, and raging shouts that were unintelligible mashes of only what she always imagined as battle.

The idea turned her stomach fiercely, the concept of fights, as in her Stable she never even so much as struck anypony with her hooves. At the most, she had an argument or two, but never even thought that violence would ever enter her life. Never mind so... abruptly.

She had seen the carnage firsthoof of the world perhaps, but one would argue it was a cerebral concept. The decaying ruins dotting the landscape were tombstones to an ancient, century old conflict, and the skeletons she saw never sat right in her mind, but in the end they were simply... an example of what happens when violence ensues. She had never truly seen, or heard in this case, the simple and unadulterated visceral nature of it...

And it terrified her so deeply all she could do was tremble and flinch as the distant, yet far closer than desired war happened above her. Every pop and boom echoed in the urban cave she dwelled within, and with nothing but her senses of hearing and touch as the explosions barraged both it filled the chamber and shook the ground ever so slightly. All she could do was scream internally.

After what felt like an eternity, hiding in the blackness, the sounds of her most hated and feared concept ended abruptly with a trailing off absence of any stimuli, be it sound or small tremors, and it left Sparks to silence and her own racing heart and rattled breath. She closed her eyes tightly in the lack of feeling, her mind raced yet altogether void of coherent thought, and she did her best to keep silent albeit unsuccessfully.

After a second eternity lying there behind her hobbled together hiding spot she could hear the faintest sounds of what seemed like ragged steps of leather against concrete, without rhythm or sense in the pace. Her heart burst to unimaginable speed as she sweated profusely, like an animal caught in a trap, agonized and yet to be slain as her captor grinned grimly over their catch.

A low and pained groaning growl followed as the steps that grew closer and closer, and it grew nearly unintelligible words that followed in a ragged speech pattern that bore a coarse and flat accent that made her feel as if her heart would burst.

“Girl... Girl!”

Upon hearing this, her mind raced even faster and gave into hope that it was her new griffon protector as it sounded like him, only... hurt? She attempted to stand but her fear locked legs refused to move, and doubt grew from the precious seconds she hesitated. Doubts like that very griffon’s own words, ‘stay here and keep quiet’ and from that spawned other uncertainties that festered in her terror locked body and mind.

It was all but ripped away when the same voice called out again in a full bodied shout that echoed clearly inside the basement. “Sparks!!”

The shout involuntarily brought her legs to shaky action, and she stood up on all four hooves and peered around and up from the cabinet. Finding nothing but the pitch blackness she used her trembling hoof to activate her PipBuck’s lamp light as her fear locked mind kept her horn from use. It bathed the room in its low greenish glow that hurt her eyes. The clock on the device in the upper righthoof screen said that only twelve minutes had passed since she took shelter down here, and the time alone locked her mind in a frenzy of confusion.

‘Was it only that long?’ She could have sworn it was far longer than that she spent curled up. She shook the thought and made her trembling body take steps towards the stair well and peered up into the darkness where her PipBuck’s light carved away the bleak. Slouched over the hoofrail above the steps peered down the bloodied figure of Red Eagle, his armor blackened and scarred, as if burnt, and his somewhat tattered and scorched coat all but dripping with shimmering crimson splatters with rivulets of them inching downwards.

His face was cold; far colder and harder than she ever believed anypony, or creature for that matter, could wear, and his eyes peered down at her with a hard glare as his feathers exhibited all the same traits his attire wore save for the scorches. His left talon draped over the rail supporting his weight as his legs held little to no strength in them, and his right held a revolver smothered in that sanguine fluid; the barrel steamed subtly.

His hat sat on his head, cocked to one side a little over his smoldering, but colder than the grave eyes that drilled into hers. “Come here...”

It took all the effort in the world for Sparks to even begin to consider it. He was, in all reality, an embodiment of all she feared set into one being. Caked in blood and as vile and murderous as no monster of Tartarus could match, her imagination ran wild with terror of his form. It was all but dispelled when he growled out again in his coarse, gravelly voice dripping with vehemence. “Come... here...”

As if under a spell her body approached the bloodied form of Red Eagle involuntarily. Step by agonized step she neared his tattered form and saw with clarity his grisly wounds beneath his barding as her PipBuck’s light illuminated them. An unexpected but fitting reaction upon seeing them the training inside her erupted forth like a sudden storm as she sketched out the cuts and burns on his flesh with a skilled eye and spoke with a caring and surprised tone with her cracking cute voice. “Good Goddesses, you’re injured!”

Eagle’s state of mind after the fight left him no other reaction but a sneering groan, speaking in half growls. “How kind of you... to notice.”

His words pained him to speak, and Sparks saw all the signs of specific traumas he endured and the affects she knew that followed; lacerations with immense blood lose, severe hypothermic plasma burns and the dehydration shortly after, explosives’ shrapnel that peppered him from paws to back, the post traumatic event adrenaline crash and the weakness afterwards. He exhibited them all.

Reaching deep into her saddlebag she pulled out a small toolbox shaped canvas bag that proudly wore the large pink and yellow insignia of the prewar Ministry of Peace’s butterflies that gave life to the dull dark brown canvas. She slipped past Eagle and motioned for him to lie down, speaking in her nervous voice, but now edged with the instructing voice of a doctor. “Come on, if I can’t treat those wounds now you won’t be standing for long.”

He growled out a response draped in vicious wit. “Perceptive... what are you, a d-”

“A doctor? I don’t have a medical license, but I’m probably the only one nearby who knows the difference between a tibia and a tumor. So get over here before you... you bleed out over the floor!”

Eagle hesitated for a moment before silently mustering all his remaining strength to limp over to where Sparks was, trailing boot prints in blood and dirt as he hobbled, voicing only the pain as he groaned with the effort. He was too tired and hurt to bother questioning her sudden usefulness, or to think of anything beyond what was immediately in front of him.

She fiddled with her PipBuck until the lamp light was bright and vividly cast everything in its gleam, and the light hurt Eagle’s squinted eyes if he merely saw the room around him. Sparks extended her hooves out to ease him down to the floor and Eagle violently, but weakly swatted them aside as he exclaimed lowly in pain, his face contorted and winced from the exertions his body did not wish to endure.

Sparks merely shook her head with a grim scowl and she all but ripped open the zipper on her bag with magic, pulling several strange but simplistic tools out examining each thoroughly and swiftly with her cyan telekinetic aura, speaking in rapid focused tones. “Can you take off your armor at all?” Eagle just grunted out a growling ‘no’ as an answer, from the sheer pain of moving most likely she figured. “Alright then, well you’re taking this for anesthetic.”

She held up a small syringe bathed in the sister part to her horns glowing radiance. Its needle capped in a dull pinkish covering with its central canister showing clear glass in small slits of its bare steel casing, and they revealed an almost glowing magenta liquid inside it. On the bands of metal Eagle eyed out the lettering printed on its label with help from her magical light. ‘PainAway’ it read, and with it he gave out a low pained groan of refusal. “No... Not... going to risk it. That shits got a...”

Sparks silenced him with a wave of her hoof as she nearly yelled at his slowly bleeding form on the floor; her voice made her condescending tones lose a touch of their edge. “Well if I’m going to get to your wounds I need to get your armor off, or drug you out of your senses so when I go pulling on your armor I don’t wrack your entire body with more pain, alright?”

Eagle sat there for a few moments, measuring out which pain he’d rather face. Chems always had a nasty reputation for addiction rates, but worse than that for him was the absolute useless state he would be in for the duration of the drug’s effect, never mind the crash afterwards. He lifted his free talon up to his pack and after some considerable effort fished out his quarter empty moonshine bottle, smearing the glass surface with talonprints of blood across its crystalline surface. “Consider this... my... anesthetic then.”

Sparks’ expression hardened in incredulity at his choice, frowning as she shook the needle with her magic speaking accusingly. “Oh right, chems are bad but alcohol is just fine. Great leap of logic th-“

“I don’t need-!!” Eagle’s face flew into a heated rage that dissipated in moments as the exertion took the wind out of him. He gave a pained sigh and fell back to the floor and spoke again in a calmer, but firm tone that Sparks’ wide eyes listened to intently. “I don’t need... your scolding... alright? Just...”

He tried to pop the cork out of the bottle with a sluggish motion, a talon held it firmly as the other attempted to open it still clenching his blood soaked revolver. He succeeded, but only just, and took long and pained drags off the drink as his body welcomed the dreadful taste and high alcohol content with a greedy pleasure, quick to exchange the pain from a dozen wounds for its terrible embrace.

Sparks merely shook her head, the doctor in her wanting to list off the problems with his logic but the empathetic side of her merely watched him down so much of that strangely pungent drink it made her gag a little.

Once Eagle had finished his gulps, he set the bottle down, shakily as his face contorted violently between the alcohol’s horrid flavor and his wounds, and he settled down easily. His eyes glazed over as his whole body pangs receded from terrible, to bearable over time. Sparks watched as he eased into a quickly inebriated state of being and set out all the tools she thought she would need; among them a suturing needle and several vials of strange liquids next to radiantly glowing healing potions.

She turned to face him, tools floating about her, and eyed down to his revolver held tightly in his grip. “Could you... ah, put that away please?”

Eagle raised a brow as his sluggish senses tried to understand what she meant. He lifted his head with an exertion and followed where her eyes traveled and saw his pistol firmly in his grasp. He let out a groan as he silently chastised her for shyness, and set the pistol down next to him on the floor after he screwed his face up.

She shrugged and gave a mirthless, anxious smile as she breathed deeply, trying her best to calm her nerves. “Alright... let’s see what we can do.”

*** *** ***

Early morning passed by with nary a disturbance from beyond the improvised clinic, but that didn’t stop the random cries of pain that emanated from Eagle. The process was difficult and tiresome, but successful all the same as she used some odd mixture of doctoring Eagle hadn’t seen before. Not that he saw much of it, but usually unicorns just magicked back their patients to health or applied liberal amounts of potions. What she was doing seemed like an odd mash of earth pony and unicorn techniques, yet far more deliberate than some once veterinarian turned sawbones.

She would stitch wounds closed and stop the bleeding, and then used either a healing spell or potions at her disposal to close the wound. After ensuring the flesh knit back together correctly she would remove the scar tissue from his burns with scalpels, and after that she used a small dropper, administering healing potion directly onto the wound in controlled amounts so she could use them to their maximum effect.

She watched, and he felt, the magical brews merely magicked back his pristine, but still slightly scarred off color pinkish flesh into being. The wounds silhouetted into patches by his thin fur coat and feathers as she used a pair of long needle nose tweezers to dig the shrapnel out of his hind legs.

All the while as she held the focus of a doctor, however some part inside of her feeling giddy at the chance to learn more of griffon anatomy as the strange mixture of cat and bird that lay on the floor before her.

Exotic was the word the old doctor journals used; non-equine life like griffons,minotaurs, manticores, or any species with such exquisite pairings of two or more entirely different beings that she only read about in computer files or books. After a while her thoughts unintentionally trailed off into more... carnal curiosities as she plucked shreds of steel from his thighs staring long at his posterior, and her expression went flaming red at the self proclaimed depravity of even thinking such thoughts during an operation, or even of a total stranger to her.

Eagle caught her halted progress and lethargically raised his head, his neck stiff with soreness and pain, and looked at her beat red face. “Something wrong?” He said bluntly.

The stirring of her patient caught her off guard as she clammed up in embarrassment and went back to plucking out steel shards from his hind legs. She spoke in a manner clearly showing the awkwardness. “Oh, nothing... just... it’s nothing.”

Eagle gave a long look at her face, the blush was apparent even in his stupor with her cheeks blazing against her slate coat. It took a moment for the thought to register in his mind, and the idea made him give a deep sigh of agitation. He rolled his eyes as he laid his head back to the floor. “Oh, for fuck’s sake...”

“W-what?” Sparks’ voice cracked under her own shame as she eyed Eagle’s wounds as she focused intently on her work, and Eagle merely muttered as he lay there and let her pick out the last pieces of shrapnel.

“You ponies are all obsessed... I swear.” As Sparks was hoisting up the healing potion bottle she used her small dropper again to put little dollops of the brilliantly gleaming liquid inside his wounds, watching them knit together again as if he had never even taken the shrapnel. When she heard Eagle speak she clammed up even further than she thought possible.

Her voice was practically drowned in embarrassment, unable to speak remotely coherent thoughts; eyes wide with disbelief. “Ob-obs-essed!? W-with what!?”

“Sex. You ponies are obsessed with it...”

“Now w-wait just a moment!”

“There’s nothing wrong with it I suppose... propagation of the species and all that, maybe a piece of wild tail... but if I had a cap for every pony that... eyed me the way you just did I wouldn’t even be here... getting stitched up...”

“T-That’s not w-what it was a-at all! I’m a p-practicing physician! I’ve never had a chance to... to see a g-griffon up close! L-let alone m-medically!”

Her stammering exclamations brought a mirthless smile on Eagle’s inebriated face, and he mused that the moonshine must definitely be working if this of all things brought a smile to his beak. He muttered in an accusing, but subtly sarcastic tone. “Riiight... Keep telling yourself that...”

Sparks looked up from her work and practically shouted in self defense, bringing a wince to Eagle’s face. “I’m serious!”

The shout brought a grim sternness to Eagle’s face as he shot his head up and spoke in yelled whispers. “Alright! Keep it down, no need to announce ourselves out here... black of night... in the middle of The Hoof of all places...”

He dropped his head back down sharply and winced from his body’s thorough thudding, but dull pain that had ebbed off for the extent of the operation. He searched his body mentally for wounds and aches but found less and less as Sparks continued to impress him with her medical skills. He raised he head slowly again and eyed her with inquisitive eyes, with a voice to match as her blush remained true. “Where did you... learn to be a good sawbones anyways? I assume your Stable... given the outfit. Never seen more than, what... a dozen proper surgeons across the wastes. Never mind a unicorn...”

The question was unexpected to Sparks, however grateful for a subject change she spoke again without cracks or stammers as she scanned his body for any missed injuries. She gestured at her unbuttoned collar as she dipped into a melancholic voice.

“Yeah, I learned in my home -that being Stable Ninety-Six as I can... guess you’ve gathered- from one of the Enclave’s practitioners there.” She tapped a hoof on her chin, thinking deeply. “Doctor Forceps was her name; she taught me everything I know, or provided most of the reading materials rather. Always was an odd ball but she knew her stuff. She practically leads the Enclave’s progress in medical research from what she said."

"I was asking about how you got your talents, not some other creature’s..." Eagle muttered under his breath, and Sparks gave an embarrassed cough.

“Well... the Enclave has great doctors, and she was assigned to inspect our medical level, ‘to tutor us’ she said. While I was put in engineering I gleaned a lot from watching her teach when I went in my free time. She even let me borrow old copies of pre-war medical books, said she was happy to help a 'young enthusiast' learn. Fascinating reads if you’ve a mind for it.

“But, yeah... I’ve taken a few classes and studied up on some books, pretty much. It, uh... did sound less meek in my head, but I think I’d make a decent nurse in the Stable..”

Eagle's thoughts trailed off into a deeper curiosity as she tended to his wounds, figuring conversation could help speed things along and focus her. He changed subjects and spoke lethargically. "So... how did the Enclave even get into your Stable? Way I heard it they stayed sealed mostly, or were stripped bare by the Enclave."

She sat for a moment building her response, going through the history she knew, which wasn't terribly much but enough she supposed. “From what I’ve read when the Grand Pegasus Enclave showed up at our Stable -up in Shadowbolt Tower- eh... shortly after our Stable got the ‘all-clear’ alert. We’ve been helping them with their techy problems in return for parts and supplies; stuff like that. But, well... according to the rumors it’s so they won't strip our home out, like you said. Have they, well... actually done that before?"

“Yeah. I’ve seen the stripped out husks in the mountains myself. Nothing but the foundations remain of some Stables, their residents scattered out to somewhere.”

“Oh my... I never thought those rumors might have been...”

The news seemed to pain her somewhat as she stopped working for a moment. She had always wondered, but figured rumor mills were naught but just that; rumors. For a Wastelander to confirm it, it made her thoughts spin. In the end she shook her head and kept working, wanting to distract herself from the news.

Eagle however coughed a little and shook his head also. She was almost finished checking him for wounds, yet one question remained among all the ones he had, but didn’t ask. “But... why study it as a unicorn? With that horn I’m sure you could magic away most wounds and hassles.”

Sparks’ expression gave a half smile in her ruminations. She gave a small giggle in response and she spoke. “Doctor Forceps asked that very same question, but, well...” she paused, her face dimming slightly in embarrassment, but she brightened up a bit and continued “I told her of how unicorn magic works -theoretically, anyway- with how spells are fickle and large scale spells cast repeatedly could cause burn-outs. I said I’d rather learn something I could do with my hooves than rely completely on spells.”

She paused for a moment in reflection before she gave a small snorting laugh. “Well... not technically my hooves I guess, but levitating small objects isn’t as taxing as larger spells. Not that our Stable had any healing spells beyond your basic magic bandaid though; not much use for them in a Stable where serious injuries were... exceptionally rare. The automated medical beds took care of most of that type of stuff anyways.”

Eagle’s expression was contemplative as he mulled over her words, her chattiness seemed to branch off of a conversation deprived filly, and it brought a utilitarian spirit to him as a question spurred; figuring to take advantage. Seriousness grew in his coarse voice that gave Sparks pause. “So... you’re a doctor, that much is clear, but what else can you do? If I’m to trudge around The Wasteland with you in tow I need to know your skills...”

“Well... hmm, I’m okay with computers I suppose. I’ve been a respectable eye-tee pony for most of my youth, but I suppose most of us in Ninety-Six are.” She paused as she tapped a hoof on her chin again in thought, trying to make a resume she though would be useful. “I’m a good repair pony, I’ve fixed a lot of arcano-tech in my time from terminals to... erm, firearms, and even did some generator work. I’m... also decent with a Flash pistol; always scored well in the firing range.”

“But you’ve never used it, in a fight.”

The comment broke her trail of thought, and she hung her head with fear that she ever would, her chances astronomically higher now out of the Stable where they were zilch. With a sudden fire her eyes shot up, her gaze wielded a blazing pride as she spoke fiercely. “And I’m proud I never have, there’s always a better way than violence.”

Eagle grimly chuckled a little at the attempt of a jab. His eyes dark and harsh looked deep into her eyes as he spoke with a voice to match. “In the wasteland, the ‘better way’ rarely leaves you alive.” His expression became gravely serious as her fire waned in sight of his sheer coldness, and it didn’t help that Eagle gave a short gesture of his talon over his tattered form, although refraining from commenting about it. “If you can’t watch my back out there I expect you to hide anytime a fight starts; which there will be. Get in my way of trying to keep us alive with some fit of a higher moral ground and you’ll find out the hard way the kind of mess you really stepped into; walking out of that Stable.”

A few moments passed as they held eye contact, and Sparks’ composure cracked and eroded under the threat. Hanging her head low she sighed subtly and Eagle shook his head with a scowl, staring off into the distance past their urban surroundings. He coughed slightly to get her attention and nodded his head at his body. “So how am I looking?”

She peered up with quivering eyes as she looked at Eagle’s face. She sniffled a little as she began to speak solemnly. “Your wounds are tended to; drinking the rest of this potion ought to finish the job...”

She telekinetically lifted the bottle she used slowly to him, about a quarter left of its gleaming fluid remaining. He took it like a shot and sat there for a moment, letting its healing aura do its work he breathed deeply, as it knitted together any wounds she might have missed. She spoke again shortly after. “I wouldn’t consider straining yourself too hard though, potions and spells are well and good but they only get you back to... hmm, roughly eighty percent... ish; give or take five or six. You could hurt yourself again pretty badly if you-”

“Staying here any longer isn’t an option. The faster we get out of The Hoof the sooner we can finish this up.”

The doctor in Sparks looked at Eagle with wide eyes as he began to stand up onto his fours from the floor smeared by his own small pool of blood, and began to stammer away at his sheer fortitude. “B-but, you can’t be serious! After that thrashing I’d tell you half a week of bed at least to make sure the healing holds! You need rest-”

“Will it hurt me to walk?”

Sparks screwed her face up and went slack jawed trying to convince him to stay put for at least a day. She shook her head slowly as she looked him up and down, and he stretched out his half-inebriated, lethargic legs. “Well... probably not, but-”

“Good, we need to move. Can’t risk any more Enclave showing up, which they will eventually since they lost a sky-tank and a whole squad of soldiers. They won’t just ignore that.”

His voice was cold and calculating, and reminded her of the soldiers; unwilling to allow moments of rest saying ‘time is of the essence’ or things along those lines. She watched as he walked towards the door and exited in practically the same manner he had before he got torn to ribbons. His endurance was surprising, and the doctor in her wondered if it was a griffon trait, or just how Wastelanders were.

She didn’t have long in her thoughts as Eagle announced loudly and firmly to her from the outside. “Alright, it’s clear. Come on!”

She sighed deeply, head hung low as she magically packed away her doctor’s bag, and stood up stretching out her own small frame; the aches of being hunched over and tending to him for hours had taken their toll on her. She sighed as she walked out of the building and looked about the town square as it was vastly different to when she first saw it and her eyes, locked in sudden terror, drifted across the carnage before her.

A sky-tank, an aircraft that she had seen many times before when given the chance to marvel at its amazing pegasi engineering, was laid out in a scraped pile of junk billowing smoke from its smoldering bones as it leaked noxious fumes as it burned. The flame illuminated the large courtyard, and it cut harsh orange silhouettes of the bodies that lay on the ground in various states of death; all but one wore power armor for what benefit it gave them.

There were perhaps six that she saw; some had their armor splayed apart in grisly jagged edges from the chests or legs, one had the helmet twisted about like how one would wring a towel with their insectoid eyes backwards, the headlamps still burning brightly but flickering in some, and another looked as if he had been burnt to a crisp, their armor’s gaping craters subtly steaming in the fire’s light as their form looked frozen in panic.

A pegasus in an officer’s uniform, the garment almost impossible to recognize, was lying bloody on the ground with his body missing entire portions of his form. His missing leg was found a few paces away and his wings were a bloody tattered pulp as if sliced to ribbons, one cut jaggedly in half and found another few paces off. His chest had a large, hoof sized hole that barreled through his belly to back with incinerated flesh ringing the edges; a discarded magic rifle that seemed to have been torn from power armor lay next to him.

Solemnly Sparks looked with terror locked eyes at the empty expression, his skin slack and lifeless, yet his eyes were bloodshot and swollen; rivulets of blood slowly dribbled from his mouth to the ground he laid upon.

The sight made her legs tremble, and she would have collapsed if not for the fact her body forced her around and retched across the ground violently, her guts churning, as she tried to process the sight. The questions raced through her mind faster than she could understand them as her body twisted her stomach like a vice, and Eagle watched the spectacle with a sort of envious pity.

It had been a long time for him since such a sight would have phased him, but he had forgotten that it had been probably only a few days since she had left her gilded cage; locked away in relative peace and comfort, never wanting for much or fearing anything worth being afraid of.

For a moment Eagle mused on the idea that any such place existed here in The Hoof at all, but as he stared up into the dark cloud smothered skies he saw with clarity the menace of the gleaming emerald city, and the large central tower that reached high beyond the clouds. ‘Shadowbolt tower?’ he remembered her say, and he pondered if even a Stable set high above the depravity below could last forever.

He tore himself away from the ruminations and approached Sparks slowly. He was going to set a talon on her back beside her but stopped short, as if his own being recoiled from the notion. Unable to do so, he spoke in his low and coarse voice, and while he tried to be tender he failed. “If you still want to keep going, all this... it won’t stop you know? Not tomorrow, and not a decade from now.”

Sparks looked up at him with her sullen cyan eyes, her brows low and her expression that of terrorized worry. She wiped her mouth with a foreleg and coughed deeply as she tried to find the words, standing in silence with only the crackling of flame behind her as her legs trembled. Eagle broke the silence again with a raised brow as he made eye contact with her quivering form. “As you said, ‘anything for home’ right?”

She blanched at the thought; was she truly ready for such a commitment, violence and death of such an unimagined magnitude as this? She looked out to see the tower far to the south, the cradle upon which her home was nestled in, and slowly nodded. Eagle gave a low chuckle as she tried to stand again, smirking as he walked towards one of the Enclave corpses strewn about. “Must be worth it then...”

Sparks shared the thought. She hoped that it would be worth it all, and all she knew was what the Overmare had told her; that it was an important exchange for the Enclave and it would be a boon to their protectors and themselves. She knew practically nothing but names and what the trade was in itself, and that it was paramount to keep it a secret.

Her education in arcano-tech sparkle power generators and anatomical knowledge from working with the Enclave’s scientists, and this... ‘Institute’ would give her Stable and the Enclave crate load supplies of magical gems for use with talismans and other things that required them, as well as technological blueprints for improved components they both could use. The trade seemed... fair, understandable even, but this...?

“I hope it is too...” Sparks said in a near whispered whimper that Eagle heard, he turned his head to speak, but merely shared in her solemn feeling. He shook his head and began a century old tradition, that of looting the dead.

*** *** ***

After a short period of rummaging through the soldiers kits, Eagle had found only a few useful things. A few spare battery packs for the energy rifles they used, the weapons themselves secured fast onto their armor, a healing potion of two, and not much of anything else. Anything of value on the sky-tank, be it rations or spare supplies, went up in flames when he took it down, and the soldiers that poured off the falling aircraft had little on their persons in the first place.

It took some convincing, but Sparks was finally able to strip a few parts from the weapons they used, high value components like focusing crystals or talismans were pried from their frames and stowed in their packs for trade. She would have argued about looting the dead being terrible, but she knew it would fall on deaf ears, and she had to force herself not to vomit again as she reluctantly touched the soldiers’ corpses with little to show for her agonized efforts. After they were done they took to the road and began the long walk north and spoke no more than a hoofful of words to each other, as the circumstances didn't spur either to conversational moods.

For the past hour in the early dawn she continued to go over her morning; the walk to the meeting place, Eagle’s battle and the operation after, the conversation they had after... even the soldiers themselves as they departed with nary a word to her. The last one bothered her, but she didn’t know if it was worth worrying over in light of the rest. She had spoken with them a good deal before, as they were assigned to escort her there and she tried to make small talk with both. The corporal was the only one who even remotely responded like just another pony, not some stone faced soldier carrying out her duties.

Sparks even thought she would have liked her as a friend if they talked more. She had a warped sense of humor, yes, but the soldier at least had some heart there. But she left, without so much as a ‘take care kid’ or anything.

The depressing thoughts were legion it seemed in her thoughts. She wanted to make the same small talk with Eagle, but found no words to fill the silence, the memory of his blood caked form still present in her mind, and they trudged on through the early morning light. The subtle but almost decaying palette of colors that filled the void as the sun rose behind the clouds still mesmerized her as she looked on mountains and clouds, the dead trees and ruins with an empathetic compassion. She wondered what it all looked like before the war, despite having seen pictures and read books on the vibrant state of things before the bombs fell.

The beauty and serenity of bright green grass with deep brown and green leaved trees bearing fruit with the bright blue sky above, warming all in its touch filled her imaginations without frames of reference; like describing color to a creature without eyes to see.

She always wondered what it would be like to actually see it firsthoof. She knew what a gleaming healthy red apple looked like, but she feared she would never taste one, let alonehold one in her hooves; cradling a little piece of the forgotten world like a precious memory she never had.

The city waned behind them, shrinking into the distance as they neared the mountain range. Occasionally Sparks would look behind them and see the city, and she shared Eagle’s contempt of it in all but experience. It may have been home to the very tower that held her Stable, but the stories of what life was like below between the Enclave's reports and typical Stable dweller fantasies only solidified the general fear of anything outside of their dwellings.

‘The Stable is your only bastion of peace and safety in this horrible world’, and so far all the propaganda she had heard turned out to be at the very least partially true. The stories the older ponies would spin, like the ground would swallow you up or the background radiation groundside being so intense it would fry you down to your bones, melting you like butter on a hotplate had been proven false by all the tests of sanity and science so far by Sparks’ own observations. Despite it all, the same tribalesce notions crept around in her subconscious like mental tumors against all logic, and she still caught herself staring up into the sky or ground, feeling uneasy there was no closer definite point to see or the mushy loose dirt below her instead of the hard pavements to which she was so accustomed.

The most intriguing thing she remarked on perhaps when she first left the Stable was when her PipBuck’s mapping spells synchronized with the soldiers’ databases built into their suits without direction to, and that was when she discovered just how vast Equestria was in comparison to her own Stable.

Outside of her Stable for the first time, below the clouds that blanketed the sky she looked out over The Hoof and saw a comparatively cosmic expanse of... almost nothing. Endless stretches of dirt and concrete ruins dotting the land before her, and it only truly hit her when she looked at her PipBuck’s map for the first time in a great many years. What she saw at first was The Hoof, stretching from edge to edge of the screen, and when she got her bearings of where the map seemed to end she panned the map out and saw that this... huge place was in reality only a little slice of Equestria; let alone of Equus entirely.

That was the first time Sparks ever felt truly daunted by anything. Her life had been comprised of only thousands of square yards of steel draped in paint and signs, and her own sleeping quarters were only a precious few of those yards. Now... now she was faced with mile after mile, days upon days of nothing; a whole world in front of her and behind. The idea made her head spin.

After a time of deep silence only held at bay by their steps in the dusty earth and moaning breeze did she get a new curiosity with her PipBuck’s features. She telekinetically pushed the ‘Data’ button on the machine, and saw in plain script along the top of the screen a feature that most ponies of her Stable used to pass the day by and took for granted; ‘Radio’. When she pushed the selector button on the tab it brought up a barrage of new stations that she had never imagined existed. Some were merely just jumbles of letters and numbers with weak signals, but others had legible names that described their functions.

The one station out of them all she saw with the best signal was called ‘DJ Pon3 Radio’, and overtaken by sheer curiosity she pushed the selector and her PipBuck burst to life with an almost alien, but beautiful upbeat music with brass horns, bass chellos, and piano that was beyond easy on the ears. The mixture performance formed a beautiful tune, with an equally handsome and suave voice to match, singing with passion and dripping affection with his words.

“...my love will bring me there soon!”

“We’ll meet, afar from the shore,”

“we’ll embrace, just as before!”

“Cheerful we’ll be, past the sea,”

“and never again, I’ll go soarin’!”

Sparks stopped in her tracks when the music slipped into an instrumental section that barraged her senses. It was... lovely, downright enrapturing even to her. All her life she had heard the fanfare and heavy brass anthems and songs the Enclave had made since they began using her Stable, and she had grown deaf to the constant ‘music’ and counted it as nothing but background noise equal to her Stables low humming generators and lights. She even caught her self subtly bouncing to the tune, her legs bending in rhythm to the beats and... dancing!

She felt a sudden joy in her chest blossom at the voice and the music entire, and a smile grew across her face for the first time in earnest since she had left her Stable.

The Euphoria was short lived however when Eagle’s body loomed in front of her. She tore her eyes from the screen and looked up at his distant, yet cold eyes as they bored into her PipBuck. He didn’t speak, but seemed to listen to the music with an all consuming focus. He let the music wash over him, as he had heard it hundreds of times before, long ago, but it never lost its affect on him.

“I know, without a doubt”

“My love will bring me there soon!”

“We’ll meet, -I know we’ll meet- beyond the shore!”

“We’ll embrace, just as before”

“Cheerful we’ll be, past the sea,”

“and never again, I’ll go soarin’!”

“No more soarin’... So long soarin’”

“Bye bye soarin’!”

When the crescendo of the song ebbed into a fading beat Sparks could swear she saw... remorse in his flat expression, and his surprisingly soft and solemn tones clashed with his gravelly voice. “It’s been... too long since I heard that.”

They stood in silence for but a few moments as Sparks’ joy waned staring at his face before the speaker gained another voice, equally as suave and smooth. The voice of a buck began with a riotous tone, drowned with happiness that overmatched the song’s energy.

“Alright Kiddies!! That, my young fillies and colts, was Fuzz Darin’, bringin’ to you ‘Past the Sea’ and singin’ to all those whose love is on faraway shores... achin' for their darlin’!”

Sparks’ eyes shot back to her PipBuck as the radio personality was perhaps the single most happy and carefree sounding pony she had ever heard in her life. Mesmerized by his passion for the song and his listeners all her focus was on the speaker until Eagle’s talon reached over her PipBuck and turned the volume knob down to levels she could just barely hear.

She looked up at Eagle with worried eyes, wondering if she had done something... Bad? ‘How could anything so beautiful be bad?’ she wondered, and Eagle caught the voiceless questions. “When we’re walking out here, the less noise the better; attracts less attention.”

He turned about and walked for a few paces before turning back with a mirthless smirk on his beak that was barely visible. “It’s a... good song though. Been forever since I heard it.”

His expression became saddened slightly, and he continued ahead as she stood there and stared long into his stride. She eyed her PipBuck again and wondered how such a magnificent song could pass as ‘good’, it was the most beautiful thing -or the only beautiful thing really- she had found beyond her Stable. She tried to listen closer to the suave voice as it chattered but to little avail, half the words lost in a low volume jumble that she couldn’t decipher.

She sighed deeply, remembering the song as it plucked her heartstrings still in memory, and she adjusted the volume knob just a touch higher before she continued her stride towards Eagle. She felt... lighter in step; with a smile gracing her lips and buoyant in stride she caught up to him without much effort, and Eagle’s stride matched his mind. Sluggish, aching from years of the same stride he always took, but like Sparks he felt lighter, if only by an ounce, in spirit.

*** *** ***

They walked for several hours more into the early morning dawn as the sun crested the mountains behind the clouds, and it bathed all in its filtered radiance that left everything’s colors dull and muted. They neared the tall and proud mountains on the northern Hoofington border, and they both looked up to their cloud scraping heights. For Sparks, the sight was impressive, like a gigantic monument declaring dominance over the land below, but for Eagle however it was another reminder of what they were both about to face.

Morbidly he pondered how they could both leave The Hoof, back to the ironically ‘less dangerous’ wastelands. He thanked whatever luck he had thoughtlessly that they had gotten this far in The Hoof without trouble, or more he corrected himself when his wounds reminded him of their presence with sudden pangs from his stride. He shook the thought and began to clinically assess how he would get out of there; the tunnel he took was not an option of course, but that left little choice but to find another highway out of there.

The odds weren’t in their favor, but Eagle was always a gambler when it came to his journeys; despite his luck at actual gambling. The last highway he wanted to use was a camp for bandits, not to mention the fact it also played as a war ground for two very different gangs. He could slip past well enough on his own, but with his new charge he now felt a subtle fear that he had forgotten; one that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

The fear of leading another, to whatever end they might meet out in The Wastes.

He shook the thought and assumed a stoic, stony face as he did what he had always done before. He told himself that he would cross that bridge when he got to it -to ‘wing it’ again. Sparks saw his conflicted expression and strode up beside him and spoke with concern. “What’s wrong Eagle? Something the matter?”

Broken from his contemplations he peered to his side with a raised brow and saw her anxious expression. He turned back to watch the path ahead as he muttered in a low voice. “Nothing, just making sure we get out of here in one piece.”

The simple and abrupt explanation didn’t sate Sparks’ curiosity, but when nothing more came from him she looked back to the path along with Eagle and listened intently to the DJ as he went on at length of news about places she had never heard of before, small details filling the void of the new wide world she now inhabited. She waited for another song to grace her ears though, despite her curiosity of the outside world, and eventually one came as they trod on.

It was sad, slower in beat than the last, but the strange mixture of brass horns and bass chello mesmerized her all the same. A different voice, but still impeccably suave and easy came and strum her heart like he was singing just for her own ears, and while he showed no reaction, Eagle took in the tune along with her.

“The Summer breeze, came easin’ in...”

“From across the sea...”

“It lingered there, to touch your hair...”

“And to trot with me...”

They both eased into the rhythm as it plucked away at their feelings. Sparks bathed in the new music that seemed close to divine as she subtly bobbed to the tune, yet Eagle...?

If he hadn’t shed his last nearly two decades ago, the song would have driven him to tears as it brought memories of home. He simply trod on, as he always had done, walking in solemn steps with a stoic face of coldness as sparks of emotion smoldered inside of him again. He almost had her turn the radio off, but... part of him enjoyed the music that he had missed out on for years too much to do it. He merely suppressed himself as the song continued, and ended.

“The autumn breeze, and the winter breeze...”

“They have come and gone...”

“And still the years... those lonely years, they go on and on...”

“And presume who sighs his lullabies... through eventides that never end...?”

“My capricious friend, the summer breeze...”

“The summer breeze...”

“Warm summer breeze...”

Footnote: Red Eagle Expansion pack loaded, level cap raised to 30!

Sparks level 2! +21 skill points! Perk earned!

Healer (1): After your first real doctoring experience you got to chance to see how you could use them! This perk will increase the number of Hit Points healed by the use of First Aid or Doctor skills by 5-10 points (1d6+4).

Chapter 9: ...to the Rhythm of the War Drums.

Chapter 9: ...to the Rhythm of the War Drums.

Gunshots

Loud and sonorous, gunshots rang in her ears and stole her hearing with a reverberating buzzing sound, and gut wrenching screams of ponies burned into her thoughts as they tore through the thunder storm of battle. For her, it felt like an eternity as concussive blasts rattled her to her bones, and her entire body recoiled from hoof to horn curling tighter and tighter as best as she could with small shouts of wordless mercy pleas. It wasn’t until to gunfire all but receded, leaving naught but a deafened droning, that the shouts of raiders pierced her overloaded senses.

“We got ‘im! We fuckin’ got ‘im!”

“Bastards gonna get it now!”

She looked up, despite her desire to remain curled up forever, and saw with her tear trailing bloodshot eyes that Eagle was beneath the strong hooves of a large, heavy set earth pony who seemed to embody the viciousness of the entire raider gang. He brandished his barbed wire wrapped club in his teeth, his armor, the epitome of their scrap metal bindings with jagged saws and barbed wire jutting from broad plates, his drab scar crossed coat the dirtiest of all she had seen before.

Her eyes went wide from the sight, as the raider held Eagle in a vice grip with his face to the floor and a talon behind his back, his rear hooves standing bloodily on his wings. The revolver that Eagle used was open, the empty cylinder hanging in the air as bullet casings surrounded him on the ground next to his hat. His knife, buried in one of the dozen corpses surrounding him, was blood soaked and all but in reach of Eagle as he squirmed violently trying to get back up.

His eyes burned like flames as he stared at Sparks, damning her for getting him into this mess, for getting killed for her sensibilities, even his own. They locked eyes for what felt like entire minutes for her, as her mind spoke his insults and chastisements for him, and she wept again.

But suddenly, like a wave of guilt had surged through her body, she stood on her fours with a newfound strength. She began to approach the group numbering two dozen easily and as her eyes watered, her nose sniffled back the snot that oozed from her sinuses and she saw Eagle’s struggling gestures to stop and run.

She didn’t. She couldn’t, not after getting Eagle into this mess. It was her own doing, and she thought that maybe she could do something, at least try something to help, or that it might be a fitting punishment to die with him if she couldn’t.

‘What the fuck are you doing?!’ was what Eagle mouthed out with his scarred beak as best he could beneath the raider’s hoof, who laughed maniacally as he struggled. “F-fighting... for what I think is right.”

The raiders around Eagle heard her, clear as day as she all but shouted the declaration, and all were held aghast short of laughter at the sight of the small, slate coated unicorn mare as her blonde mane crowned face bore two expressions at once. Terror and determination; her tear streaked face and her grit teeth betrayed the return of all but blinding rage within her.

They laughed at her.

The raider pinning Eagle had to stifle a chuckle himself as his appraising eyes saw her in full form, a combat armor and stable suit clad unicorn that eyed him with a vengeance. Tilting his head he spat out his weapon and watched it clatter to the floor a short distance away, and he spoke in a dark, deeply coarse voice; one that emanated over the rest of his deranged and shabby crew, bearing a clarity of words that betrayed his senses were clear and devoid of chem use.

“So... our friend’s blue clad ace up his sleeve, I suppose.” He twisted Eagle’s talon further behind his back, getting a short growling grunt of pain from his prisoner. “So tell me, little blue... what do you plan... to do to us?”

He motioned around them with his head, looking in either direction as he started to chuckle slowly with a deep resonance, completely different in tones when compared to the hyena-like laughter of the rest of the raiders. With a subtle grin crossing his scar crossed face Sparks spoke in a cracking light tone that the raiders simply cackled at even harder as she gestured with her entire body, violently and shakily as her limbs trembled below her in adrenaline powered terror. “I’m going to t-tell you... to let him -and your prisoners- let them go!”

The raider boss seemed to be the only one among his crew who could contain his laughter. He looked at her down the length of his snout, and his grin grew on his lips, revealing rotten and shattered rows of teeth between his cracked and dry lips. “Hmm... will you now? Sorry to disappoint you but ah... you see, this little rascal...” he twisted Eagle’s foreleg even more as he spoke, getting a pained grunt as bones popped and muscles were pulled beyond what they could reach, with further unsuccessful attempts to free himself “...cost me a few good stallions earlier this week, I remember him as he cut down some of my bucks as we attacked those... those stubborn bastards, the Stingers.”

Eagle piped up, his strained voice barely audible but plain in his desire to rip the raider boss limb from limb. “No one asked you to get in my w-”

The Raider boss cut him off by twisting a hoof on one of Eagle’s wings, and left him with naught but an agonized growl. “Speak when spoken to, vulture.” His eyes lingered on Eagle for further rebellion, but he just squirmed beneath his impressive weight. He peered over to Sparks again, and smirked. “As I was saying, this one is mine. Those prisoners over there? Also mine. You will be too, here soon. Such a... lovely morsel of a Stable mare; small and pretty as you are. I could use some... fresh flesh all to myself...”

The dire comment shocked Sparks’ system into an emotion she had felt before all this began, but now at such a level of abhorrence that she never had. Uncontrollable rage flew through her as her fight or flight instincts shot into life, and her horn glowed that almost serene cyan color as her laser pistol whipped around her. It shook subtly in her magical grip. “I’ll only say it once more... Let. Them. Go!!”

Her voice cracked and flashed into a full voiced embodiment of her anger, and despite her near blinding fury those around her didn’t feel threatened in the slightest as tears trickled down to her quivering jaw. “Or what, little blue? Will you cry me to death? Somepony grab her, I’m tired of her bullshit!”

And with that, Sparks used the one thing she never thought she would in a fight. She activated a spell in her PipBuck with a flash of her horn that slowed time down around her as several of the raider ponies lunged to grab her, and as time slowed down all came into a frightful scrutiny of detail as particles stopped midair and the fast grabbing hooves crawled to a snail’s pace. Sections of their bodies were highlighted in her vision, like green beacons with interfaces near them showing percentages in double digits.

S.A.T.S., is what she used, the Stable-Tec-Assisted-Targeting-Spell, a standard issue security spell built into the software of their PipBuck’s that slowed time around the user, and allowed for them to target specific spots on their marks displaying the chances to strike them. She detested using violence, but she knew she had no choice if she wanted to live, if she wanted Eagle or the prisoners to live to see another day; free of raider oppression. Free of violence in what relative safety they could find for them.

Despite her own disgusted feeling like her coat was soaked in ichor and pitch she targeted the big raider’s head, at a grim chance of seventy two percent, and at three others who charged her at eighties each. Four targets, four shots, and at close range she sent brightly glowing red beams of magic flying as tears streaked her cheeks. She hated it with a passion.

It all happened in terrifying detail, as the S.A.T.S. spell continued to slow her perception of time around her, and she saw when her first shot of the laser pistol hit the big one’s head. The subtle ozone smell from puffs of searing smoke from the pistol and the impact alongside the terrible report of the laser’s sound resonated in her ears. The user interface of her PipBuck declared a critical hit on the target, and she saw his eyes shoot wide with panic for the last moments his form was whole before being disintegrated into a fine red glowing ash from her laser pistol’s built in spell.

The ashes slowly but surely swept over Eagle as they hung in the air like menacing glowing dust, and the second shot bored a hole through the closest raider’s armor like a hot knife through butter, leaving a glowing scalded hole nearly a hoof deep in his chest. His expression went from giddy, chem crazed glee as the foam of his mouth leaked in droplets slowly, to wracked with pain over the next few seconds as the weapon’s spell did its work.

As the raider curled on the wound and fell to the ground, Sparks saw Eagle wasted no time and sprung to action. Free of the raider’s control he pounced, and even in S.A.T.S. he moved faster than all the other ponies around her as realization slowly inched across their faces. He had already freed his knife from the raider corpse it protruded from and tumbled slowly through the air as the glowing red ashes twirled around him with his mighty wing beats, murder in his eyes before she fired her third shot.

The third raider she targeted was in the middle of turning, mouth agape to scream, what about she could only guess was their companions being killed, but she spared no waste of her spell’s active time and fired the shot. The laser beam impacted with a gut wrenching response from Sparks as the shot merely grazed the raider’s body, leaving a burnt and smoking line across his coat as his face contorted in severe agonizing pain.

His movements were dull and slow when he threw himself backwards and held the wound, screaming. It was then that Eagle had lunged for the final target she had marked, and as Eagle dove in for the kill, his blade skillfully twirled in his talon, Sparks canceled the last shot.

As the spell ended, time slowly flowed back into speed. She saw Eagle as he hung midair, blade extended over the raider with a single swipe from behind prepared. All the others, numbering maybe nine at the most hung back from the spectacle that began scant seconds ago in reality, and despite that very fact Sparks had all but memorized every detail. With a single tear leaping from her bloodshot eyes barely moving at all time reasserted itself, and her tear flew rapidly to the ground, and blood from the raider’s throat before her splattered in small ribbons across her face.

It was then that, with time continuing at a regular pace, the true utter chaos of battle was made apparent. Her eyes, despite being held raptly in attention, couldn’t follow the twisting turns and movements of Eagle or the raiders as a grand melee played out before her. One after another in hectic and terrible motions raider after raider dropped before Eagle as he shouted with punches of his talons, kicks with clawed paws, and lethal swipes of his blade. Each and every strike found purchase as blood splattered across him, the ground, and the raiders all.

He didn’t stop as Sparks watched the fighting, not until all nine bodies lay on the floor, leaking blood as they ebbed out their last gasps. Eagle twisted about looking for more, with wide eyes and quick motions he found none, but he saw Sparks as she stood there shaking uncontrollably. He shouted fiercely at her with a terrifying voice of authority.

“Come on, we need to move!! More will be on their way from the outside!!” Eagle darted his eyes around quickly as he searched for some way they could survive the next wave of death sure to descend on them. His body locked as he tilted his head, his eyes locked on the massive armored chariot that sat on the road nearby, and a wicked grin crossed his beak. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to use a turret, would you!?”

She didn’t answer as her limbs trembled with her eyes locked on the destruction before her. The bleeding bodies of the raiders with still glowing ashes laying about contorted in pained visages. She couldn’t break her eyes from it, and it wasn’t until Eagle yelled at her loudly that she managed. “Sparks!?” She couldn’t speak as she looked at him with a snapping motion, her bloodshot eyes still streaming tears. “Don’t break on me now girl, you’re doing great! Now tell me, can you work a turret!? Even the basics!?”

“Y-y-you t-think I could!? I c-can barely u-use t-...this thing!” She shook her laser pistol in her shaky magic grasp.

Eagle only shook his head abruptly and spoke quickly as he looked around for defensive constructs they could use. “With that spell in your PipBuck you can! A turret’s even easier, just point and push the button. I don’t want you in melee range of these fuckers and that chariot is the best bet you have at staying out of range!” She was held aghast once more as she was torn with indecision, but Eagle gave her no time for ruminations as he planed out battle lines. “Come on Sparks!! We don’t have the time!!”

She threw her head into a violent shake with a muffled scream that betrayed her pleas for mercy as she chose to mount the gun atop the truck. She trotted over to it as adrenaline coursed her veins, her limbs barely capable of supporting her. She closed up to the truck which was crisscrossed with barbed wire and jagged plate steel, and at first she eyed it over and wondered how to even get up to the top, but her question was answered when Eagle came up from behind her and tossed her forcefully up to the gun.

She landed precariously on top of the turret of the armored chariot and looked behind her with surprise as he continued to shout and make defensive barriers from whatever he could find; tables, walls, junk, and more. “The chariot’s spark batteries should still be attached! Rev it up and flip the headlamps and spotlight on! Might help blind whatever’s coming our way!”

Sparks reluctantly delved into the truck’s cramped bowels, as that was the best description she could give to its filthy, torn apart state. Small slivers of light penetrated the windows from beyond the windshield’s armor plating like visors and gave clarity to the threadbare seats and rusted naked flooring.

After a short search she found a driver’s side steering bit and center console of the old world vehicle, with half the buttons and switches that belonged on it missing, leaving empty holes in the dark confines as she searched for the choice button that would bring the beast to life. After fidgeting with one after another she began to panic, and shouted to Eagle outside, her voice cracking. “Which button is it!?”

“Steering dashboard on the right! Should be a key!!”

She searched where he said, and found a slot with just such a key protruding from it. She fidgeted with the key with magic to work the near rusted tumblers, and eventually managed to get some noise from the engine of the truck. A loud and stuttering cacophony of an indescribable noise to her, but no other signs of life came from the monster as she released the ignition switch as soon as it began.

“What’s wrong with it!?” She shouted, and Eagle returned with an even louder shout that showed the pressing time.

“You need to hold the key down until it starts!! You’ll know it when the entire truck feels like it’s rattling!!”

She fidgeted with the key again until she got it to twist, and as several beads of sweat trickled down her face she heard that same ungodly stuttering noise again. A few seconds later she felt the entire machine roar to life as the frame entire began to shake and rattle like Eagle had said, and for a second more she held the key down in surprise the stuttering noise went from terrible to downright atrocious as an ear grinding metallic screech sounded, making her recoil from the ignition.

“What was that!?” She screamed, but Eagle wasn’t going to allow another bout of twenty questions.

“Not now!! Flip the lights on and get on the gun! Headlamp switch should be left, opposite the key was!” she searched for a moment and found said switches, and with a panicked hoof flipped them. She watched from the slivers of windows that massive beaming lights peeled away the darkness that the tunnel seemed to bear in comparison, and as she tumbled and wormed her way out of the cabin she began to hear a now all too familiar sound. Gunfire.

“Get on the gun girl!!” Was all she heard from Eagle, and she scrambled in a panic to reach the top of the vehicle. Her eyes and body flinched with every firearm report, but she finally managed to reach the turret on top, which looked like a massive rectangular box with a long barrel protruding from the opposite end and two wide set handles facing her. A spotlight beamed forward from the gun, and it cut all it touched in harsh contrasts with the small slivers of shadows she could see it facing, and the large bin on its side had a belt of bullets that connected to the gun’s main body.

She reluctantly grasped the handles with her hooves and felt small paddle buttons on the insides of them, and with it accidentally firing off burst of shots into some distance garbage with casings and seemingly random metallic pieces flying off the side of the machine gun. The overpressure startled her beyond belief, and the gunshots themselves were louder than any she had ever heard before.

She grabbed the handles again delicately and peered over to where Eagle was fighting, his battle saddle was rapidly firing off shot after shot into the mess of raiders, maybe two dozen if Sparks had the luxury of time to count, with few of them dropping from the wounds they received. She would have kept staring had it not been for a few sudden showers of sparks that splattered against the turret’s armor. She flinched, ducked down instinctively, but pulled herself up and brought the turret to bear on several of the raiders ahead; the spotlight basking them in promised death.

With a moment’s pause of grief, activated her S.A.T.S. again as she dropped into the magically crawling time.

Hanging onto the machine gun she saw the slow and cumbersome movements of the raiders as they neared Eagle’s, and her, position, and the bright headlamp of the turret sent several diving for what cover was available, but they couldn’t outpace the advantage that S.A.T.S. gave her. She targeted the closest raiders, and with chances all above seventy she let loose bursts at three of them as they dove for their lives.

The overpressure hammered her in terrible detail as each sensation was like every inch of her was suddenly squeezed by a massive hoof lasting for what felt like two or three seconds each. The sensations were followed by bright, indescribably loud, and terrifying fireballs that blasted from the barrel of the gun, with the heat of each warming Sparks’ exposed body as it sent the large bullets plummeting into their marks. Each sensation ebbed off slowly until the machine racked another round in the burst and sent another bullet flying in a terrible dance of dance. It was only a small mercy though between the sudden bursts of pressure and flame that she could barely see the raiders as they were killed instantly by the massive rounds tearing apart their bodies.

One target after another did this routine repeat, and with every hammering of her senses her eyes trickled more and more tears as she tore herself apart for what she was doing. With most of her marks dead on the ground like shredded meat the spell’s effect wore off slowly as time returned to normal, and the long yet delayed terrible effects of the machine gun fire became a rapidly roaring beat on her body and mind as it now screamed bloody death so fast she had no time to lose the sensations it gave between the seconds.

She hung onto the machine gun as it continued to fire, and burst after burst it shredded apart anything her panicked limbs aimed it at, be it raider or refuse or rubble as she shut her eyes tightly as it roared. It was only luck that she kept the barrel downrange at the raiders, albeit with absolutely no thought for aim. She trailed the barrel back and forth and forced her flinching eyes open and swayed it across the tunnel’s length as she tried to regain control of the monster, and only just barely managed to force the gun to the general area of targets where she remembered they were.

After a long winded deafening cacophony of machine gun fire the belt inside the bin on the machine’s side ran dry with no more ammunition to be had, and with that the final report of the terror ebbed away sharply into the background noises of the tunnel, all masked by the all consuming ringing in Sparks’ ears.

The only thing she could hear was her own heart beat as a pressure thudded in her ears, and beyond that was nothing but that dull droning noise that she couldn’t shake. Not that she tried though, as she clung to the empty machine gun before her with a death grip and trembled across every inch of her body. Her eyes shot wide from the carnage beyond that the machine gun had wrought.

It was terrifying to her, in a sense deeper than she could imagine. The small hovels and miscellaneous tidbits the raiders had about were all shredded into splinters or shavings, and the small splatters and inching puddles of blood betrayed the still and torn apart forms of raiders behind their ineffective covers were visible.

She was locked on the scene, and couldn’t take her eyes off of it, but Eagle however, as he emerged from beneath his own improvised cover with his talons over his sensitive ears he cursed under his breath and walked out to the middle of the tunnel. “Damn, girl...”

He shook his head, and slowly went over to where his black hat and revolver laid serenely on the ground and picked them up with a talon. Giving both a quick dust off from the red, still glowing ash of the big raider -the boss he presumed. He reloaded the revolver and holstered it, and donned the hat again with a voiceless expression of defiance; his beak curled in a grimace and squinted eyes.

He turned from the scene and saw Sparks frozen in place, and her expression told him all he needed to know. Shock had set in, and the realization that she had just taken not only her first life as a survivor, but in such a glorious -or terrible- display of many. Most Stable dwellers get such rattles on their first as Eagle knew, and he sighed deeply feeling a bit of sympathy as his eyes wandered over the shredded remains of the raider camp.

He walked over to her, slowly and steadily, and began to call out her name in a low, but warm gravelly voice as tenderly as he could manage. “Sparks, hey? Sparks? You hear me?”

He had to carefully scale up the side of the chariot avoiding its traps built to hinder and harm those that tried to climb it, and sidling up beside her he carefully put a talon on one of her sweat matted hooves, still clenching the trigger of the machine gun with a death grip. She showed no reaction, her hooves numb from the machine gun. “Sparks, can you hear me?”

The droning in her ears subsided just barely, and she heard his gravelly voice pierce her deafened senses. She turned abruptly and met her wide trembling eyes with his, calm and steady, and she traced the scar laden expression of sympathy across his face. She broke into a slow and building sob again, and the breakdown that had been growing began in earnest. She couldn’t speak coherently as she whimpered and choked on her own saliva with rapid, panic attack laden breaths. “I-I-I.... I d-don’t k-k-k-know what I-I-I’ve...”

“You saved us, is what you did. And you stopped those raider fiends from ever... ever, hurting someone again. That’s what you did Sparks.” He interrupted, and looked out over the carnage before them with a lingering gaze. He turned back to her, with almost empty eyes and a low emotionless voice. “Come on. Let’s get you out of there.”

Sparks tried to speak again, but no words came from her trembling lips. She wiped her eyes with an exposed sleeve, only for the tears to return harder than before. She looked around with distant eyes, and she tried to get out of the turret with her weakened limp limbs. Eagle offered a helping talon, which she took with a lethargic pace as she all but tumbled out of the chariot. He helped to her to ground, but her legs betrayed the true weakness in her as she immediately buckled without much effort given to stand. She groveled on the ground for a time before Eagle tried to help her up, but she couldn’t get much past sitting up.

Eagle merely bit his tongue, as he knew the only remedy for what she felt was time for it to settle. She was in shock, and he knew the pain well that she felt. As he sat beside her, Eagle fished around his packs searching for something that could help her, but the only things he found remotely helpful were his moonshine and a spare bottle of the all too popular soft drink of the wasteland, of Old Equestria before the war.

Sparkle~Cola. He sighed for a moment, popped the cap off and sequestered it away, and watched the drink fizz ever so slightly as these drinks remarkably still held carbonation after all these years. He held the bottle to her. “Here, drink this.”

She looked up with a sudden burst of energy that was a rotten mixture of fluster, anger, mourning, betrayal, and terror in one large clump of emotions. The baseness of the command did something to her mind she had not expected. It angered her. They -she- had just slaughtered several dozen raiders like insects, and a rage built around the idea that Eagle wanted to have a drink like some afternoon tea.

She summoned a surge of strength that drove her to try and smack the bottle away from her face. She only succeeded in toppling herself over as Eagle deftly dodged her attempts to waste the drink. She caught herself with one feeble hoof and rebalanced, and the rage in her channeled to her weeping chocked voice.

“A-a-a-after all t-t-that... a-a-a-after all we just d-d-did... Y-you want t-to pop a s-s-s-soda!?” the accusation in her words merely bounced off of him like pebbles as he kept a straight face, and this enraged her further. “W-w-we... I-I-I... j-j-j-just k...k-k-killed... what, thirty? F-f-forty p-p-ponies? J-j-just like t-t-that!” she threw her hooves together with a clop, throwing them back down to support herself as she trembled. “I-I-I.... I d-d-didn’t even... I didn’t t-t-t-think this would... I... I...”

Her rage broke like a cracked dam that held back all the internalized feelings and she exploded, thrown into a full bodied breakdown wracked with wrenching sobs and wordless pleas. Eagle closed his eyes as he slowly as he hung his head shaking it. ‘It has to run its course...’ he thought, and after a few minutes of nonstop havoc as Eagle kept an eye out for other trouble her breath slowed and she reestablished some of her shattered focus and wiped her clenched eyes on her filthy sweat laden sleeves; the brilliant blue hues faded slightly from the dust and tears.

She desperately tried to dry her face, but failed as the tears replaced themselves as fast as she wiped them, leaving waterlogged dust and the sting of salty sweat in her eyes. Eagle pulled a scrap piece of rag from his open packs and offered it to her. “Here.”

His level voice, quiet and surprisingly easy, missing most of its typical harshness brought some small comfort of sympathy to her, and she took the rag greedily and did her best to wipe her bloodshot eyes clean and dry. Once she was somewhat satisfied the rag was damp with her tears and snot, and she looked up to Eagle with a gaze he was all too familiar with.

“Why...?” She sniffled with quivering sensations between her words as she looked around at the now newly dedicated graveyard, and at the pen of ponies behind them. “Why would they... do this...?”

His calm and matter of fact voice answered her in the same voice. “Because they were desperate. Many creatures are; ponies and yaks and griffons and all others alike.” She stared into his empty and dry eyes. She sensed some small amount of long felt sorrow long since having lost its edge. “Desperation can drive any creature into doing almost anything. From needs and demands of one’s own survival, or the survival of... of loved ones, almost any creature would stoop to things most decent folk would balk at.”

He looked about the scene with lingering eyes on the destruction, and an instinctual motion of a forelimb brought his talon to the silver locket beneath his coat. He merely held his talon there longingly as he stared with lingering eyes about him, sighing as he did with his eyes stopped on the cage of prisoners. “Unfortunately... that line of ‘anything’ these days is too often crossed. Here.”

Sparks looked up to her blood matted guardian as he held the Sparkle~Cola bottle to her. Fighting between her intellectual mind and her youthful, ignorant view of the world; she knew he was right no matter how much she hated to agree. The Wasteland seemed to be a land that bred violence and difference with all the right tools to break a creature in mind and body, and ‘violence...’ she thought, ‘breeds violence...’

She began to heave subtly, but her body hadn’t the power or contents with which to retch. She groaned and wiped her lips with the dampened cloth as saliva almost dry burned her lips, and she reluctantly took the offered drink in her hooves and took a sip. The carroty, carbonated taste cut through her deadened senses like a beacon of sudden life in the vat of death she inhabited, and she smacked her lips. “This is... pretty g...good... actually...”

“Save some for the others, I’m sure they’re parched worse than you.”

With that Sparks remembered the entire reason why this fight began in the first place, and with extreme embarrassment forced herself to her shaky hoofs holding the bottle in her magic. She meandered over to the cage, one hoof in front of the other with her entire body wracked by weakness, and upon seeing the inequinity within she retched acidic, faintly carrot flavored pasty liquid in a full bodied heave now that her stomach had something to force.

Within the cage was what she saw before, bloated corpses mingling with three living, breathing ponies inside all wide eyed and panicked with the battle that just played out, but the stench and depravity was now apparent. The way they were posed, cadaver and living alike, betrayed that they were the carnal playthings of the demented raiders.

Several of the bodies even had chunks of flesh missing, which she couldn’t tell were the extent of how low they had been caged, mutilated by rot, or if the raiders intentionally cut off sections of meat for meals. All these thoughts churned her stomach fiercely, and she exclaimed with disbelieving eyes after wiping her lips. “Dearest G-Goddesses... oh c...crap.”

She looked back and saw the gate itself was locked with a thin chain and padlock which she struggled against fruitlessly. She looked over to Eagle with a wordless plea in her eyes, and he approached shaking his head. With no more than a yank the small rusted padlock snapped open, and after unraveling the links from the gate they both pulled hard on the chain link fence until it begrudgingly gave way to their efforts with a squeal of rusted hinges. Eagle made a move to enter, but Sparks stopped him with a hoof. “No...this is my fault... I’ll... I’ll do this.”

Eagle looked at her with lingering eyes, and a small frown curled his beak as he hoped for the best. “Alright.”

She entered slowly, making steps past refuse and rotten flesh, and her guts churned with no purchase. She looked at the awake and terrified prisoners of the raiders, all three earth ponies with two mares and one stallion, each a hodgepodge of colors muted by the dirt and grime on their coats, blood caked and gaunt to the last. With as gentle a voice as she could muster, despite her immense and uncontrollable shaking, spoke softly to them as she tried to comfort them. “I’m... I’m here to help you get out of here.”

The first of the three sat almost still, and if it wasn’t to the subtle trembling one could have assumed the mare was dead with eyes empty of all emotion but terror of their last moments. Her mane was short cropped and ragged, and if it weren’t for the filth covering her one could almost eye an almost dark brown color, and her coat was a sort of eggshell hue equally indistinct from her dirtiness.

As Sparks neared her the mare began to shake, giving wordless and muffled cries as Sparks saw the gag fastened tightly around her head cinching the flesh of her cheeks and neck, and with it Sparks shushed her like a mother would a crying child, all with a shaky smile as her desire to help overcame that of wanting to hide herself away. “Hey, hey... it’s alright miss, I’m not going to hurt you, alright? You’re going to have to trust me...”

With her comforting words, the mare stilled, only testing her bonds in apparent discomfort. Her eyes closed and her expression betrayed her desire to weep, but all her tears were cried out long ago from the lines that broke the dirt and filth on her cheeks. Sparks first undid her fore hooves’ bonds and eased her limbs down to rest, then she removed the gag around her head and the mare’s jaw hung in the air from the inability to close from soreness and weakness. She groaned from the terrible mix of aching pains and pleasure that came from relaxation as she hung there for days without count.

Sparks went to the next mare, her mane long and bizarrely wild and her coat raw and naked in spots, both laden with filth with colors almost greenish, and undid her binds and gag as she gave no fight to the release. Finally free after untold horrors were inflicted on her she mouthed airless words, but Sparks understood the phrase, ‘thank you’. The third however, the stallion, was immediately startled by Sparks’ advances to free him, and despite her calming words he continued to thrash on his bonds and screamed ineffectually through his gag.

Eagle spoke up in a grave, but sympathetic voice. “Leave him for now, he’s going to be trouble if you release him. Raiders hurt him bad.”

Sparks peered down at the stallion as he thrashed about against his bindings, and with a sickening realization found these raiders used him just like the rest. The blood caking his nethers betrayed details her eyes didn’t have any desire to linger on, and she closed her eyes trying to think of some way to help him. “We can’t leave him here.”

“Of course not, but I’ve seen prisoners attack their... rescuers before. This one’s got the same look.” The idea hung in Sparks’ mind like a terrible haze, the idea that somepony could hurt the ponies that help them, but she could understand somewhat given the evidence she had seen of the raider’s abuses.

She thought long and hard about how she could help him and with a sudden thought she dug through her packs fishing out her doctor’s bag. Opening the zipper and flaps with her magic she withdrew the syringe of subtly glowing magenta hued medicine. “PainAway could act as an anesthetic for him for a while, keep him from hurting himself or... us.”

Eagle groaned lowly, and after a few seconds time he shook his head. “Alright, do it.”

The stallion began to thrash even harder about as he fought against his rescuers, and after Sparks removed the cap on the needle he began full bodied screams that were barely understandable, but sounded like ‘no’. Sparks looked at him with an easing face and held the syringe up next to her head in her cyan magic aura. “Look, I want to help you, I really do. But I can’t have you hurting yourself or... us in the process. So either calm down and let me help you, or I’ll put your under and then get you out of here, alright?”

Sparks heard the shuffling noises beside her of one of the freed mares, and she looked over to her as the second mare used what little strength she had to turn to her. Her eyes were dried out and distant beneath her frazzled, filthy ebon green mane, but she spoke clearly enough to understand behind cracked and dry lips in a raspy voice with sighs between words. “They... used chems on... on us... when they weren’t getting... what they wanted... Dash... Buck... even Rage... at times...”

She smacked her cracked dry lips and stared longly at the Sparkle~Cola bottle thatSparks had set down. She eyed the bottle and, with a flash of embarrassment, offered the bottle to the two mares to drink, and they both drank greedily despite their drained and weak limbs as blood began to flow properly again. “Th...thank you...”

“It’s not a p-problem miss!” Sparks said with a cracking voice, fraught with desire to be a face of joy but failing in the face of what these raiders had done.

The mare who spoke before piped up again deliriously. “He... he took it the... the worst though... pumped his... his ass with... PainAway and... and Rage back to back... as they...” she chuckled hollowly, bringing an empty cough to her lips. “as they... pumped his... his ass...”

Sparks’ guts twisted again under the weight of such a sudden and dark joke she found no humor in, but she hung her head lowly and put the cap back onto the needle and put it away; much to the relief of the stallion. She looked back up to him, tracing her eyes across his nearly bare coatless skin and saw the cuts and bruises next to needle marks that dotted his raised haunches as he hung there weakly, drained and wide eyed, and she pleaded with him with a subconscious begging for forgiveness. “I want to help you... let me help you... okay?”

For a moment the stallion merely hung there trembling, but after a few moments time he slowly nodded his head. Sparks nodded back, and with a few deft motions eased his raised hind legs down to the ground to rest as she undid his bonds on his fore hooves. Lying on the ground he tried to fidget with his gag unsuccessfully with useless hooves, but Sparks with a subtle tug of magic released the gag around his mouth; his jaw hanging slack. He flexed and stretched around weakly trying to waken his body from imprisonment about him.

With his mouth free, he held a hoof up as he lapped his dry tongue about his mouth, and the other two mares gave him what was left of the bottle, about half empty now. He drank deeply of it and his expression showed the long desire for drink that was denied him. Breathing deeply he closed his eyes, and slumped against the ground as strength suddenly left him. “T-thank... you...”

Almost without warning, his body slackened and his head hung down expressionless.Sparks put a hoof to him trying to nudge him awake, but her fears were confirmed when she felt his neck for his pulse and didn’t find one. She hung her head, sighing deeply with tearless sobs shuddering in her breath.

She looked over to the mares and shook her head slowly as tears began to form in her eyes again, and they merely sat there with distant, sorrowful faces. Eagle shook his own head as he kept watch, silently cursing the raiders to whatever hells they would find most terrifying.

The green mare sighed deeply, and spoke with weakness lacing her venomous words. “Fuckin’... Goddesses damned bastards...”

Sparks wiped her eyes and looked to her, speaking in near whispers. “Did... did you k-know him?”

“No... we... we couldn’t even speak to each... each other with those... those fuckin’ gags...”

They both hung their heads again in remorse, and Eagle broke the silence after a time with a low and warm, but gravelly voice. “We can’t stay here much longer, we need to get what we can from these raiders. Supplies, ammo, guns if they have anything worth taking.”

Sparks looked up to him as he stood there with an empty expression, no emotion at all gracing his scar crossed face save for squinting eyes with a distant stare. She nodded slowly and stood up onto her fours and turned to the mares. “What are your names?”

The short cropped mare spoke first, eager to speak to someone friendly but hobbled by her weakened condition. “I’m... Tato Sundae.”

“Name’s... Green...” Sparks looked at the second mare with a quizzical look, as from what she could see her name was more of a description of her appearance, to which she merely groaned with an embarrassed expression of her own. “Mom wasn’t the... best at names...”

Sparks nodded her head and put on a façade of a smile. She tried to comfort them with a giggle at Green’s name. “Well, my name’s Sparks... Are you two going to be okay or...?”

It was then that Sparks realized the major hole in her plans of helping ponies. Would she just... leave them here? Or could she and Eagle take the two of them along to Crystal Cityor... anywhere nearby that was safe? She had no idea of what places around that could, or would, harbor two ponies freshly escaped from the clutches of raider fiends. They would need food, shelter, and definitely medical care considering what untold horrors had been inflicted on them.

She looked over to Eagle with these very questions summarized into a wordless plea in her eyes, and Eagle sighed looking about for that answer himself. ‘Can we afford to drag them with us?’ he thought, and after a time he almost denied the request, but when he looked back to the armored chariot nearby he chuckled. “You know... if we clean out that chariot, rip some of that extra weight off of it too, we should be able to fit them inside, along with our supplies. Would make the journey back to Crystal City easier even...”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Sparks turned around and approached the vehicle, which was merely ten or twelve minutes ago something she detested, but now a promise of hope for not only herself and her conscious, but the lives of ponies in need. She smiled for the first time in earnest that day for a reason worth the expression. “We’ll clean out the chariot, get whatever supplies we can around here and get outta dodge, or... whatever this place is called.”

Eagle looked back to the two mares as they bore hopeful half smiles on their faces, and despite the urge to smile back he could only sigh with a nod, a small indiscernible grin grew on the edges of his beak regardless. “Better than what we had an hour ago. Come on.”

*** *** ***

It had been three hours since the motley group had huddled into the relatively cramped confines of the armored chariot; its interior leagues better than when they first opened up the doors and cleaned the refuse and greasy muck from within, but still managing to be filthier than Sparks was comfortable with. Despite it though she bore a subtle smile as she listened to the odd mixture of the blaring wind outside the moving vehicle on the open road, with the sounds and feelings of the spark-cell powered engine lowly roaring just below unbearable. Even the subtle sounds of the tattered solid rubber tires as they beat on the cracked and all but destroyed roadways and open wasteland they crossed, all of it mixed strangely to the radio on her PipBuck as they all subconsciously listened to its hopeful tunes of love and life.

She looked over to the two mares, curled up they slept as soundly as their confined seats allowed; the most comfort being from the meager scrub down ‘bath’ they took to clean themselves off. They were far from clean, but considering the lack of certain disturbing residues and muck on their coats it must have been heaven in comparison for an ounce of cleanliness. Green even had a cute snore that Sparks could hear below the cacophony of other noises as she slept like a sack of rocks, heavily and soundly.

As she stared at them her thoughts wandered back to the tunnel they had left, and with a solemn but tearless expression she recalled how they had given the nameless stallion a funeral of sorts. They had no shovels or tools to bury him as Tato had suggested, but Eagle had an idea that served as best as they could think. They piled up a good deal of whatever material could burn, and after setting him down on top the pile -with their respects paid- in the center of the cage Eagle had used a spare flare of his and set the pile ablaze, along with all the other assorted corpses and bloated forms of nameless ponies.

She hoped that it would be enough, maybe give him some small comforts in the beyond of some burial service as her own stable gave cremations for their beloved’s passing. Although she wasn’t sure that they would be grateful, not truly, but the thought that they would be comforted her with the terrors she had witnessed... and perpetrated, that day. With that she gave a solemn sigh as she stared at her PipBuck’s radio screen, the radio frequency line jittered and bounced along to the jazzy music that played out of rhythm.

Eagle sat uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, sized altogether too small for him with the mouth bit practically in his chest with a talon on it to steer. Since none of the rest of them knew how to drive a chariot he had to, but as he looked over to Sparks he knew a little of what she might have been thinking.

Turning his eyes back to the road he began to speak to her, and she could barely hear him above the noise of the chariot. “You might want to try and get some sleep Sparks, it’s going to be a while until we hit Crystal City. Even in this.”

She shook her head as she agreed with him, but no matter how much she tried her thoughts kept her awake. “I... I’m not sure I can, not after today...”

“Look Sparks, you did good today. Towns all over would be toasting you for what you did today. Fresh out of a stable and you already cleared out a nasty raider camp and saved the damsels. No mean feat you managed.”

Sparks screwed her face up with a subtle disgust as she looked at her hooves. Despite being somewhat clean she saw the metaphorical blood on them. She had butchered nearly twenty six raiders, by Eagle’s count of the corpses, like animals. The images and sensations of flame and percussion the machine gun -still mounted on the vehicle- persisted in her thoughts, and her imagination filled in the blanks.

She looked at Eagle and spoke morosely with the words hanging in her throat like stones. “I... I k-killed three dozen p-ponies today, I can’t see that as a... good thing no matter what light you put it in...”

“You think that anyone around here in The Wasteland is clean? We all have some dirt on us, somewhere. Take those two in the back for example...” he pointed a talon back towards them over his shoulder as they slept and Sparks looked at them as they slept. “You think for a moment that they’ve never killed some creature to live another day? Green I’m certain wasn’t captured without a fight. Probably took a few down in the process.”

Sparks’ eyes lingered over her in disbelief, and she eyed Eagle with that very question written in her expression. “How can you be sure of it?”

“When she cleaned herself off she had several decently sized scars across her body, calluses on her fetlocks and sterner shoulders might mean either long term heavy labor or a more... exciting life than most get. Her builds more like a raider to be honest; a lot of focus of muscles used by Earth ponies to fight.

“She’s also snoring like a chainsaw. Probably broke her snout once. Barely see the scars though. The fact she’s sleeping so soundly is another hint. After what they went through, a pony who hasn’t seen or done some shit wouldn’t be able to sleep so well.”

Sparks looked back at Green and her eyes traced the details he had said. She was a rather muscular mare, even for an earth pony, and the subtle crisscrossed scars revealed wounds suffered long ago that she couldn’t logically place into day to day contexts. One especially large scar on her crossed her side from her left shoulder up and on top of her back; a small ridge of coat hair bordering the ravine of flesh. With the realization she dove into ruminations that she might have just saved a raider from other raiders, and it wreaked a small havoc in her mind that such an arguably well mannered mare, as she had discovered she was after they had spoken a bit, could be a raider at all.

“So... she’s a raider...”

“Maybe, maybe not. Might just be an incredibly lucky... or unlucky scavver type. All I know is she’s a fighter, wouldn’t let herself get caught like that without a fight.” He sighed as he stared at the road ahead watching for dangers or hold ups in their way. It had been a long time since he ever was behind the bit of any vehicle, nevermind like this one, and he was trying to clean the rust off of his old driving skills, to little avail. “My point is that no one out here is clean if they’re still breathing. Only chance of that is... maybe some city buck or filly living with his parents in a big town. Which is rare.”

Sparks’ eyes lingered on Green’s sleeping form in wonder. How much had she gone through? What all has she done? If she had been a raider, would it still be right to help her the way she had? Among other unspoken questions her eyes went to Tato Sundae as she slept, silently curled up in her seat save for groans of agitation of the bumpy ride, and she looked for such signs Eagle had pointed out.

She was strong, but slim and lean in build with few of the large scars on her body, and finding little to make any judgment she turned to Eagle again. “What about her then?”

“Nothing much really. Looks like a farmer type. Calluses on the fetlocks and decent muscles for the work, but a farmer’s life is often malnourished so they’re thinner than most. With a name like ‘Tato’ though it’s a dead giveaway since tatos are a popular crop. Farmers work day to day keeping their crop to survive, and raiders frequently target them for an easy grab. Probably fended off a few in her time too with that bullet scar in her left flank.”

Sparks looked back at her, but couldn’t see the scar as she lay. She shook her head in slight bafflement at Eagle’s seemingly accurate measurement of stranger’s lives, and turned back to him. “How can you just... do that? Look at somepony and know what they’ve done their lives?”

Eagle had to stifle a scoff, as he wasn’t in the mood for a laundry list of questions, one after the next, but he figured he didn’t have anything better to do given the free time. He subconsciously enjoyed the diversion though. “It comes with living out here; you pick it up after a while. Needing to gauge creatures at a glance helps dealing with them. The simplest part is what they’re wearing. An extremely ragged looking suit of ‘barding’ splattered with blood and such is a dead giveaway for a raider. Well dressed characters with surprisingly clean clothes can tell you they’re city types, meaning they could be pushover cowards used to hiding behind guards.” Eagle shrugged as he spoke, and sniffled. “Every little bit can help push them in the right direction to get what you need out of them. Or to avoid them in some cases.”

Sparks looked at Eagle as he spoke, and with the information he gave her she tried to gauge him in the same way. She traced the scars across his face, his chipped beak, gash across his eye and their squinted expression told her he had been involved in a litany of violence over his years, and his clothes and barding were tattered, patched, and scuffed in spots of discoloration from heavy use.

From his clothes beneath the barding, which were once a flat olive drab color as far as she could tell, she could see spots of red and dusty brown colors like rust forming a sort of unintended camouflage of the colors. She thought that perhaps the red spots were old dried blood that had stained the fabric, with such a thought discomforting her, and the rest of his form bore these slight hints to his lifetime occupation. “So... you’re a-”

“A mercenary. Gun for hire. Been that way for going on... nineteen years now; maybe twenty.”

She watched his flat expression as he spoke, and despite his focus a slight melancholy edged his words. “Well... why not change it then? Settle down and... I don’t know, farm like Tato?”

“For starters you saw for yourself what could happen to farmers, but... I don’t know. This is all I know. Going from town to town; job after job. Walking your Wastelands with dust and mud on my paws. Nothing else... nothing else for me really.”

The melancholy was blatantly apparent to Sparks now as Eagle spoke, almost nostalgic as if he was speaking to himself more than her. Her lips pursed in an attempt to find a subject change, but found none to be had off the top of her head.

She merely sat in the relative silence pierced by road noise and the engine’s grumble, and she delved once again into ruminations about what was ahead of them in their respective paths as she listened subconsciously to her PipBuck’s radio. Thought after thought entered and left her mind without nary a few seconds to ponder, distracted and thoroughly absorbed by Wastelandic life.

She shuddered to think about how she could possibly acclimate to it, and she hoped beyond hope that she wouldn’t be needed to do things that tore bloody holes into her conscious again, like how Tato or Green probably had in their lives, even Eagle as rough hewn as he seemed.

She looked at her own hooves longly, and once again at the metaphorical blood that stained them in her judgment; perhaps only a little less though as she drifted in thought. Diving headlong into the self disappointed notions she did her best to get comfortable in her seat; a near impossibility given its awkward nature to her and the filth that remained on it. Once she managed however, her eyelids drooped and she fell into a half sleep listening to the jazzy music emitted by her radio.

According to the Dee-Jay the group was called The ‘Pony Tones’; a quartet with a suave and deep voiced stallion and three mares sung backed by bass chellos, brass horns, and piano. They orchestrated the very music she found such pleasure in previously, but somehow lost into melancholy for her as the lyrics brought images and feeling of her home. ‘One time home...’ she thought sorrowfully, as her Stable was all but lost to her now. With a deep sigh she curled up as best she could, and drifted off into dreamless sleep.

“Don’t know why I left my homestead...”

“I surely must confess...”

“I’m a drowsy exile, singin’ my song of loneliness...”

“The hay is the tastiest, the cider is the fruitiest”

“The bucks are the readiest, the mares are the steadiest”

“The life the loveliest... the love the liveliest”

“Far back... Far back...”

“Far... back home...”

“There’s no place like home... dearest home...”

Footnote: Red Eagle level 21! +17 skill points!

Sparks level 3! +21 skill points!

Author's Note

HO, LE, and SHIT...

Allow me first to say this, thank you all, those of you who have gone this far with me into my first real attempt at writing, and thank you for giving the work of a fledging and budding artist’s attempt to please his muse a chance. As I look back now, one hundred and twenty eight THOUSAND words already in the relatively short time it feels since I first launched into Chapter One at full tilt back during April 1st 2019, I have to admit some giddy pleasure how fast this all exploded.

Five months, for five months now I’ve been having this love affair with this strange story that’s buried into my head ever since I finished reading the original Fallout Equestria after going back to read it, years past its due in my shame of reading habits (having started it long, long ago when it first was completed if memory serves, but never finished it) and then in a hungry frenzy destroyed FE: Project Horizons in record time for myself in reading (with me reading Murky Number Seven on top the pile recommended to me).

It was November 16th of 2018 then as my artistic passion flared and a story buried itself into my skull and, like a bird taking flight for the first time from its mother’s nest, I tried my hand at writing for the first time. It has been a ball from the beginning, and hopefully the fun I’m having persists all they way to the end.

And I hope you, all of you who are reading this, will stick along for the finale still churning in my head as I write.

First and foremost, I’ve learned a great about how... difficult, it is to actually write a story. In the past five months alone -and the rest sure to come- I’ve learned a lot; about things as simple as actual grammatical correctness (at least... I hope I have) and more complicated things like story structure and how to develop the flustercluck in my head into legible, coherent words on paper that can be made sense of. I hope my ‘gift for words’ as my father tells me has been put to good use, and moreover I hope that the story itself is one that pleases when read. To tell a tale that is fresh and enjoyed is my hope, and I hope I’m doing it justice as you ‘flip the pages’.

Even more, I hope, that the story I’m writing actually fits the genre, and the canvas of which I paint, the marble of which I chisel; the post-apocalyptic world of Equestria and all its... bewildering glory. I hope the hours that I spend in my immense amount of free time, typing away at this infernal keyboard and its clackity-clacking, working out the kinks and bugs when I see them, and the hours I have spent with my digital art tablet drawing ideas and characters as I improve both my writing and drawing, are not wasted.

Moreover, I hope that you, dear reader, are actually enjoying this as much as I am, and I hope that the tale I’m telling touches you the same way that I was when I first finished reading Fallout Equestria in earnest.

Now... I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, or otherwise negative about it, but with the boilerplate gratitude out of the way I would like to say a few things.

Firstly, and I know this will probably suck, but by the time you’ve read this I have gone through the entire novel and have reworked some of the details; corrections like blasted apostrophes or how to set up the paragraphs in order to better convey the message and such, or re-chiseled scenes to better fit the style I’ve grown since I’ve finished Chapter 9, as well as tried to murder my huge paragraphs that a friendly user pointed out to me (thanks nyx0s!).

At this point, I’m considering Chapter 9 as my ‘End of Book One’, and I will be continuing this absolutely, however unless I get an editor to properly give my work a once over I’m making the latest updates to the story going from Chapters 1 to 9 the 1.0 edition so to speak.

You won’t have to necessarily go back and trudge through it all again, unless you want to that is, in order to get the full picture. This is merely me letting you guys know that I’ve polished up what I’ve done so far up a bit as I’ve learned more about how this works, getting into the jive of things. I shall also try NOT to chase my work with a brush and chisel continuing to change things around like a raving lunatic like I’ve been doing, making people want to continue going back and reread sections (small things like apostrophes sure, but not major chunks unless people look at me sideways with confusion as to what I meant).

Secondly, an explanation or apology I believe is in order for as to why it may seem sporadic or too long between updates, and it can be summarized in two things.

Without going into terrifying detail about my personal life, I don’t have internet at home, and I need to go to town in order to do anything update wise as I am currently so far into the sticks that I BARELY have a roaming signal on my phone to post anything, be it a comment response or chapter.

Even then, my roaming signal is me with a broom handle and my phone duct taped to it, waving it wildly in the air signing blood pacts with Lovecraftian Gods...

The second reason, which is far simpler, is that I am a chronic gamer... as you’d expect with the entire ‘Fallout’ part of ‘Fallout Equestria’, so me picking up a new game or playing the shite-gob out of games I already love to pieces eats up my attention span (damn you Monster Hunter: World, Adventures of grindy McGrindypants).

Or Fallout, Dark Souls, TES, Metro, The Witcher, et cetera...

I felt that that was necessary to say, as I’ve had moments where I’m clinging to a monster’s face shanking it to death and an errant thought tears me back to Storms of The Divide, and I go ‘Aww shit I want to write some more’, looking back at the last time I did anything for it.

ANYWAYS... This is pretty much it that I want to be said, at least so far. I’ll say this again, that I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am, and I would ask that if you have anything to say, to tell me or to share your thoughts, please do not hesitate to drop a comment.

Your feedback helps me to better understand how this whole dance works and all that jazz, and I appreciate every drop of input, be it positive or negative critique, I get as I scratch my head writing like I’m demented going ‘is this good or not?’.

And with that, ladies and gentlemen, the curtains close on Book One of ‘Fallout Equestria: Storms of the Divide’, soon to open again with the debut of Book Two’s beginning.

Thank you, once again.

~Canagán

Chapter 10: The Smallest Hope

Chapter 10: The Smallest Hope

It was mid-afternoon by the time some sudden jerk in the chariot brought Sparksawake, and her groggy and deadened senses looked around in half lucid confusion as to what was going on. She panned over to Eagle who she could hear curse under his breath, and she rubbed her eyes with a hoof and full body yawn as she stretched ineffectively in the seat's constrictiveness. “Wha-... what’s wrong?”

He groaned near silently as he held a talon to his face and squeezed his upper beak between his eyes. He had a look like he was fighting a yawn. “Nothing, just... ugh, it’s been a while since I slept.”

Sparks stretched again as she sat up in her seat, and she looked about the truck and beyond with lingering groggy eyes. “Well... if you want to we can stop for the night.”

Eagle shook his head and adjusted himself in the driver’s seat, clearing his throat and swallowing as he did. “I’d rather get behind some sturdy walls then sleep. It’d be better to catch shut eye with some form of security; and far away from The Hoof. The faster we can get back to Crystal City the better anyways”

Sparks shook her head trying to shake her sleepiness. She had gotten some sleep, but it wasn’t nearly enough for her to consider waking. She was used to being able to sleep in the comfort of a freshly made bed for at the least eight hours, depending on the day, and by her PipBuck’s measure she had slept for only four hours as the time read four-forty-five. She yawned again, and wondered how fast they had to be in Crystal City; like a foal refusing to get out of bed wanting only the sweet embrace of a soft blanket and pillow. “Well... well how long until we have to be there?”

Eagle sighed as he mentally counted off the days since he last saw Crystal City, and began to speak after a few seconds of placing dates in his head. “The... mayor gave me two months to get to The Hoof and back, and I got to the drop off in... about twenty five days. With this chariot we could be there in less than three, if the terrain or this engine is agreeable. We’d be shaving the time down from two months to twenty eight days. I’d like to put that on my résumé as efficiency.” He held back a yawn again, and gave a half backward glance as he tilted his head to hear the rest of their passengers. “Besides, we have company remember?”

Sparks turned about in her seat to see the two mares behind them as she suddenly remembered they had guests, and with a genuine smile gracing her lips she half yawned as she gave hellos to the rousing Tato and Green. “Good morning... erm, well... afternoon rather... heh.”

Tato was the first to speak in her slightly accented voice, and Sparks could have sworn it was an actual smile on her face, not just one for show as she rubbed a hoof on her forehead. “Hey...” she shifted up to a half sitting lounge in her seat, and she looked about the chariot in a groggy state before her eyes shot wide of a sudden. “Oh, damn... what time is it? Where are we?”

Eagle looked over to Sparks and motioned a talon at her PipBuck as it played the radio station; an instrumental jazz piece strumming away lazily in the background. “Open your map and answer that, would you? I’d like to know that myself.”

She did so, and with a few button pushes with her magic she saw that they had cleared a surprisingly large space of land since noon with The Hoof far behind them. “About... eighty five miles out of Hoofington due northwestish and... it’s four-fifty-eight in the afternoon.”

The answer got a mixture response from Tato and Green, and the latter sat up somewhat straight in the seat and scanned the brown washed terrain beyond the chariot; the Sun’s light still bathing most in bright enough clarity to see. Tato seemed immensely pleased but worried simultaneously and Green merely sighed below their hearing as her eyes wandered. Green was the one who spoke first, but to herself more than anyone. “Out of TheHoof... after all this time...”

Sparks looked at her with a curious expression, and voiced it in her cute, but sleepy voice. “Have you... been there a long time?”

She didn’t look away from the slated windows, but Green nodded her head as she spoke in a strangely coarse voice, but light in tone. “Longer than yah know, Stable girl. Figured I’d be there ‘til I died. Whenever the fuck that was.”

Eagle piped up in a low and level voice without taking his eyes from the road ahead.“The Stingers?”

Green hung her head a touch, but sighed and gave the answer casually to Sparks’ surprise. “Yeah, and for the record I don’t care what happened in that tunnel. You didn’t kill my gang, those fucking Jocks did. Yer just a traveler.”

Eagle didn’t make any physical gesture, but spoke again. “Thought I recognized you back there. Didn’t know quite for certain.”

“Small fucking world I guess then.” Eagle nodded, and said no more beyond a grunt in response.

Sparks’ confused and squinted eyes looked between Green and Eagle, and her ignorance led to pry on the subject. “Wait... the, Stingers? Wasn’t that what that... that pony had said...? Back in th-”

“Don’t remind me kid, What’s in the past is in the past. With luck I can put all that shit behind me.” As Green finished speaking and continued her distant stare beyond the chariot deep in thought as she mouthed silent words to herself.

Eagle met Sparks’ eyes and shook his head without a word and she clammed up, and lost herself in thought. Eventually realization crossed her face when she remembered that big raider recognized Eagle, and she was lowered into sudden ruminations. She had saved a raider... from raiders, and oddly enough she found no reason to regret it looking at Green as she sat there. Tato had a nervous look, and she shared a worried expression with Sparks, however troubled for different reasons.

Sparks wondered if she was worried simply for being in the same chariot with a raider... or ex-raider as it were, and she remembered Eagle had said that farmers were under constant threat of raider attacks. If she was a farmer, then Sparks figured she would be right to worry, even if only a little for her safety.

In light of it though, Sparks looked Green up and down and had trouble separating her from a raider now. The subconscious hate of raiders, and all she experienced of them in the past day alone was enough to shock her system into tumbles of confliction as she tried to see a pony, and not a monster in pony form.

She shook her head from the waking delirium and sighed with a small frown curling her lips as she shelved the idea, wishing to simply listen to the radio as it strummed along. After a few minutes though, Tato spoke up again. “Where are we going, exactly? I’ve... I’ve never been far... around Equestria myself I mean...”

Eagle answered bluntly with a level voice. “Crystal City, a place north of Canterlot if you’re familiar. It’s safe enough as a settlement I suppose, probably the only safe place in the north if you want to split hairs. It’s close to four hundred miles north past Canterlot though, and the only towns with farms nearby are in hard times. Drought supposedly; heard it up near Rambling Rock.”

“Well... that doesn’t sound too fruitful...” Tato said and frowned a touch, as if embarrassed. “All I know is farming. Do... does that town up north, Crystal City... they got farms there?”

Eagle turned to Sparks with an invisible grin, and stifled a chuckle as she turned to him with astonishment in her eyes as he was right on both accounts with them. He nodded and spoke. “They do, the town itself is in an old world ruin, the main body built into an old Hoofball stadium. They’ve got security, high walls, ponies by the dozen, decent trade and, like anyone out here, a need to eat. You could sign on with the croppers.”

She let out a sigh of relief, and nodded. “Good, good... It’d be nice just to get back to a... a simple life.”

Green breathed deeply, which caught both Tato’s and Sparks’ attention, and she spoke flatly. “What other places are around? Any towns that don’t sound so farmish, posh or... well, clean I suppose.”

Eagle answered in a manner mirroring hers, only his voice paused as he thought of a place that would suit her with her assumed history. “Around the Central Wastes you’ve got Manehattan out east but the only place there with ponies is locked up tighter than most places; too posh and clean though as you said. Maybe Fillydelphia if you want another less dangerous, slaver hub version of Hoofington a ways south of Manehattan. There’s also Baltimare, south of Fillydelphia but I haven’t much of a clue what they’re like. There’s alsoDodge City, maybe a day east of us now, you might like it-”

“Last time I was there, it burned me.” Green interrupted, scoffing. “Ain’t gonna trot back to that dump anytime soon.”

“Well,” Eagle started again, frowning “being honest I’m not planning on making huge detours like that anyways; at least two fifty, maybe three hundred miles worth to the coastal cities. If Dodge City isn’t your place you might have better luck further north. There’s a small prewar town near Galloping Gorge called ‘Good Neighbor’; maybe a rough week’s journey west from Crystal City on hoof. Small time gangs infest that area something fierce but... it’s the closest I know to a ‘rub dirt in it’ type of place up there.”

Green chuckled a little, and a small smirk grew on her lips. “Good neighbor got a bar?”

Eagle stifled a chuckle, and nodded. “Yeah, they’ve got a bar.”

“That’s all I need then, a dive to call home. Can you take me close to Crystal City and drop me off near town? I can hoof it from there to Good Neighbor.”

“Can you manage?”

She nodded in response. “Just a week’s trot west as you said right? I’ll figure it out.”

Eagle shrugged and thought of her chances to make it, unarmed and lacking supplies, but it was her life to throw away if she wished. She was from The Hoof besides, and if any Wastelanders had a solid chance of making such a venture naked as she was it would be Hoofington ponies.

Sparks was listening, perhaps subconsciously as she focused on the radio as it played along, plucking away at her heartstrings. It made her eyes droop at times as slow and steady tunes made her mind drift among thoughtless currents, the only nudges to lucidity from the chariot’s rocking and shifts as it crossed the countryside. She shook her head and tried to get comfortable again, yet unsuccessfully to her displeasure, when suddenly her PipBuck’s speaker blared from the standard fare of divine music to the coarse but suave voice of the radio host, who time after time of hearing his overly energetic voice was proudly named ‘DJ Pon3’.

“Good afternoon rollin’ into evenin’ kiddies! This is Dee-Jay Pon Three, with the latest news bursts from around the Equestrian Wastelands! This just in, I have another report from... The terrible and deadly hole called Hoofington! Of all the places to get news that’s different than ‘x’ gang fought ‘y’ gang for miscellaneous reasons and such... I’ll be the first to admit kiddies that this... this is a surprise just as much as the first one earlier this week.”

Sparks’ eyes squinted as the DJ went on his all too common tangents, but her mind posed an equally sudden curiosity about the place they had just left. She locked eyes and ears with the speaker on her PipBuck, and listened intently.

“Turns out that the standard fare for violence was cut short in one such skirmish, much like the one I told you about two days ago. Big fight near the border of The Hoof that got everypony around here nervous? Yeah, that one! Well another one, practically just like it in all accounts... except for the fact one raider army was replaced with no more than two, I repeat, two characters. One griffon and one unicorn, the latter dressed in the all too popular, classy duds hued blue and gold.”

Sparks’ mind seized as if the words were like a giant metaphorical wrench thrown into the gears of her brain's metaphorical engine. She coughed and sat up suddenly, staring at the PipBuck on her foreleg as the DJ went on with the story.

“That’s right kiddies... we had a Stable dweller, along with an admittedly high profile griffon -one ‘Red Eagle’ you kiddies may remember-, go in one side of The Hoof’s northern mountains and out the other with a whole batch of nasties called ‘Jockeys’ dead. If you remember the last report I mentioned, you’ll know the Jockeys all but effortlessly wiped out another gang camped in the underpasses. Well that same gang of butchers got wiped out, as if it were karmic justice!

"How d-... How did two creatures manage to cut their way past a whole gang of those bastards?! I swear, I can’t even begin to make this shit up!”

Green scoffed as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, looking up through the hatch in the chariot’s roof to the machine gun, shaking Sparks from the confusion and shock of the DJ’s words. “Yeah... a big fuckin’ gun is how. Turned their own medicine on the sorry fucks.”

Eagle suppressed a scoff, and silently cursed that even after all this time that DJ Pon3 still remembered him from far older events. That ‘repeat’ he mentioned though worried him above all else however. “Bastard’s got a good fucking memory... Been years since I heard my name on the air.”

Sparks looked at him with clear disbelief etched in her face, and her voice cracked as she nearly shouted her mind’s multitude of questions. “Wait, how did- we just left th- that just happened only a few hours ago!”

“Yeah... the Dee-Jay is strange like that.” Eagle said lowly as he scratched his beak with a talon with a distant, thoughtful stare. “Odd part is the fact his station’s based in Manehattan,Tenpony Tower to be specific. Never been there myself, but the stallion never shut up about it when I used to listen to the radio.”

Green gave a short laugh and whinnied loudly, declaring her own disbelief as the DJ continued on his own tangent in the background. “Never mind the fact that buck seems to know about shit as it happens. Never understood that myself; must be unicorn magic or somethin’ since his reports seem good most of the time." She gave a half laugh as she waved a hoof through the air, shaking her head. "Like now, as it is.”

Tato snickered subtly, and she spoke with a hint of glee in her voice. “Well, I’ll be damned... riding in a chariot -of all things- with a newly made radio celebrity... Two of ‘em actually, would say it’s a pleasure!”

Sparks was too confused with all the new information that slammed into her mind all at once to speak, and gave only bewildered grunts. She screwed her face up trying to understand it, but failing miserably. She thought of any spells that might help a pony know about things in this case, but her own limited repertoire of spells -and knowledge of others- cast a veil of ignorance across her.

Her attempts to understand were especially dashed of course, by the wave of newfound fame of being on a radio airing across The Wasteland. She never had an ounce of special recognition before in her stable, only getting close maybe once or twice, but this? This was a full scale acknowledgement on a signal wide scale that everypony from all across that listened to the radio would hear, and with a sudden blazing blush shooting across her slate cheeks with wide shot eyes she realized her thoughts twice.

Everypony -nay, every creature- would have heard of her, whether it be from the radio directly or from hearsay, and the Stable recluse who spent most of her time buried in books and machines remembered only by a hoofful of ponies was now famous. Perhaps infamously she thought as she trailed to the why.

A whole gang of raiders dead, posed and postured about her hooves as she stood over them, like a blood caked hero of Wastelandic legend, and tears began to form in her eyes. “They will... he makes it sound like I...”

Tato looked around Sparks’ seat as she moved to congratulate her, maybe even shake her hoof if she could, but she saw her trailing tears and her expression turned from ecstatic to concern. “Hey, what’s wrong girl?”

“She doesn’t do violence. Now she’s famous for it.” Eagle said as he sighed, and continued to listen to the broadcast.

“Well... no matter how they managed... thank you two if you’re listening, and keep up the good fight! Should be just a little safer around The Hoof now, and for everypony else in The Wasteland! On to other news though...”

Eagle realized that his earlier comment about people toasting her for what she did being a good thing would indeed happen, and the grim reality of it sank in as he saw another person buried neck deep in confliction about the gratitude they’re showered in from others. The nightly terrors and scars as raw unadulterated brutality plays out from necessity, and creatures from all over thanking them for putting it to the ‘bad guys’ as it were.

It was still a raw nerve for Eagle even after so long, and the pangs of guilt and the old echoing nerve to thank another for walking through Tartarus and back, facing the absolute worst creatures have to offer. Just because they put raiders, or otherwise undesirables, in the dirt; for being killers.

He remembered that night quite clearly like an itchy scar across his mind, when he stared into this small, backwater ramshackle motel’s half destroyed mirror with rivulets of dried blood and gore across his feathers and coat. His face was young then, but his freshly scar crossed face held sullen eyes that betrayed the pain and age of decades as they stared directly into his own. The invisible trembles shot through his body as the reverberations of thanks were repeated by his mind like a silent dirge.

After all his time though, wandering The Wasteland he came to understand that those who would give thanks couldn’t, and sure enough the thanks ended, slowly but surely, leaving him with a cold and empty visage forged by his time.

He coughed, cleared his throat and swallowed, then turned to Sparks as she swam in such confliction felt on a deeper level than he could even understand. He wanted to tell her to turn the radio off, shelve the idea and maybe get some more sleep if she could, but the words hung in his throat as his own memories held his voice in a vice grip.

He grumbled subtly as he held his talon to his eyes again. He felt the hours weigh on him he wondered if he could manage to stay awake at least until they got to the FoalMountains in the north. He looked about beyond the slated windshield and grimaced as he knew visibility was going to get worse by the hour. He didn’t trust his driving skills in near pitch blackness through the open wastes, but loathed to stop for the night; especially since they weren’t exactly being inconspicuous riding this loud and cacophonic machine.

He turned to Sparks and spoke lowly, trying to get her attention without startling her. “Would you see what’s nearby on your map? Going to pull over for the night and make camp. Might as well since I can barely see shit out here.”

She looked up, broken from her disheartened state, but only just as she coughed and wiped her eyes, lifting her PipBuck up to her face and pushed buttons and dials until the map displayed vividly before her. She was stricken again by her wonder and curiosity staring at Equestria’s topographical view in dull greens, but now that wonder was bathed in a small fear of all who had heard of her first real exploit in the world at large beyond her home.

She looked from Hoofington, scrolling past Dodge City, Baltimare, Manehattan -wordlessly pleading DJ Pon3 to stop-, then back across to Canterlot and all the way across the interface to Tall Tale and down to Los Pegasus, and she ignorantly feared of how many ponies within these thousands upon thousands of square miles would be speaking about her ‘heroics’.

Her eyes wet again, and she gave silent sobs, held her forehead with a hoof as she hung her head lowly with tightly shut eyes. It was only until Eagle spoke up again that she held her teary face up from her silent anguish. “Sparks...? What have we got?”

She wiped her eyes again and sniffled, scrolling the screen back to the little green arrow signifying their place in the huge open world around her, filled with listening ears. “We’re... uh, twenty miles westish of ‘Dodge City’ and... and what looks like a small town. About a few miles away or so...”

“Which direction?”

“Southeast... uh, that way...”

She gestured with a hoof behind her, and Eagle gave a silent groan as he turned the lumbering chariot around. “Tell me when the arrows pointing to It.”

He said, and after a few seconds she gestured again directly ahead of them. “There, we’re... heading right for it.”

“Alright... let’s hope no creatures home.”

*** *** ***

The group of them stayed quiet for a majority of the duration as little more than coughs or sniffles were heard between the road’s and chariot’s noises. It was Tato who broke the silence, seeing the ensemble of buildings they were headed for beyond, and she tried to comfort Sparks; albeit ineffectually before Eagle turned around a building and drove in slowly.

“It’ll be alright Sparks, you just... you just gotta take it one day at a time, as my pa always said." Sparks looked at her as she wiped away tears between sniffles, and Tato sighed as she looked deep into her eyes. "Life can... get rough out in The Wastes, downright terrible at times but trust me when I say there’s nothin’ wrong with sticking to what you believe. Keep faith in it, and Goddesses willing you’ll see it through.”

Sparks gave a small and sad smile, and nodding her head weakly she tried to show appreciation of what she was trying to do. She didn’t believe it, perhaps only a little as some large, but smothered part of her tried to hold onto her ideals with a maddened fury as The Wasteland gave her reason to cast them aside.

Green scoffed a chuckle, and turned to Tato in berating amusement. “Shit girl, after what you... well, we... went through in that hole you’re still preachin’ like that? Nothin’ but surviving out here, and you know it farm filly. Live or die; nothin’ between.”

Tato screwed her face up, and sighed ceding her point. “Yeah, and I know most ponies would be gibbering messes after that. There’re ponies out here who don’t break so easy. I’d hate to see... see another pony just... give up.”

Sparks’ eyes froze as she tilted her head, the small smile lost as it turned to sympathy. She felt a desire to ask what she meant, and she did after a pause filled with silence as Eagle parked the chariot and cut the engine. The droning chatter of the engine gone and it left a slight buzz in their ears. “What do you... you mean by ‘another’, Tato?”

Sparks met her eyes, and her somber expression promised tears, but found no purchase as her empty sorrowful stare looked down to her hooves. She sighed, and lifted her head back to her eyes speaking sullenly. “Well... it was my pa, years ago... maybe six or seven of ‘em. The year when we had a bad crop after a... terrible winter rolled through. Half our food reserves were gone, and we never had the caps my pa always dreamed about when ‘prospectin’’ as he called it, so we couldn’t really afford to buy food for ourselves.

"Ma got a fever and, well... pa left to hunker down on his searching, swore he’d find somethin’ that could buy medicine from a local doc, maybe find some medicine even." she sighed again as she met her eyes with Sparks’, a deep pain visible in them. "But before he made it back she had passed away from the fever in her sleep...” She sighed as she looked out the slated window in the chariot’s door.

“And... and it broke my pa. He loved her more than anything, which I... I didn’t mind it, watching the two of them go on the way they did... My pa only lasted for another few months before he got sick himself. Wasn’t too serious either, just a bad cough and... and maybe a low fever but ever since ma passed he lost that... strange sparkle in his eyes. He was always a fun lovin’ go-getter but... he just... gave up.” She sniffled and locked her grieving eyes with Sparks’, who shared in the heart wrenching grief with her. “I... I see that same look in your eyes... Whatever you do Sparks don’t! Don’t you ever lose that sparkle in your eyes. Don’t let this... this, shit hole rob that from you!”

Tato’s outburst as her somber expression turned to a sorrow draped anger shockedSparks slightly, and she bore a frown as her mind fought for dominance between thoughts. Tato and Green seemed to be either half of her mind ponified as the formers’ face demanded to keep her heart battled with the latter’s scoffing broken spirit.

She held her head down in an empty stare, and with a deep sigh some hidden part of her girded against her fracturing, finding the courage to try in Tato’s eyes. A small grin spread across her lips as deep within her she felt as if she owed it to all the ones who had broken to persevere, despite all. Her earlier words with Eagle, about doing her ‘damnedest to try, burns or not’ came back in a slowly building resolve that strengthened her composure, and she spoke in a subtly cracking voice. “O-okay...”

*** *** ***

It was six o’clock in the morning by the time the dawning sun cut through the darkened cloud layer enough for light to bathe the world around their impromptu campsite in a dull, lethargic particle filled glow. Sparks woke from her restless slumber shortly after, woken twice in the night by horrendously vivid terrors that cut through her mind like the flame that once graced the pyre before them; they rendered her sensitive to all intrusions of her sleep.

There, in the small and defensible building, as Eagle had said, tucked away in a corner of the dilapidated, sodden and rotten room with equally decayed furnishings she got up from her crushed, sickeningly squelchy mattress, and brushed off some sweat matted mane from her cheek. She looked about the room with groggy eyes and coughed, breaking the near silence pierced only by the crackling cinders of the ashen pile of burnt, foul smelling garbage and refuse.

Eagle, immediately roused from his own sleep from the noise, half lunged from his own ‘bed’ with his silver gleaming blade at the ready. After a quick scan of the room he found the noise only to be Sparks as she stood shakily to her lethargic limbs, and he sighed a small huff of relief. She looked to him with an apologetic frown, startled by the sudden and frightening spring. “Oh... sorry Eagle... didn’t mean to scare you...”

He grumbled under his breath a hair, sheathed his knife with a similar groggy motion and spoke low and gravelly. “Didn’t mean to keep me up most of the night either I take it...?”

“Oh...! I...”

Eagle just shook his head as she began to apologize, waving a dismissing talon. “Don’t worry about it... Better some sleep than none...” He sat up slightly, stretching out his sleep locked limbs and wings about him as he yawned deeply, and after looking about the room’s dimly lit atmosphere he tilted his head sharply up at her; a sudden awareness in his eyes. “What time is it...?”

She held her PipBuck up to her, and spoke with a yawn of her own. “About... six-fifteen. Why?”

He began to sit up completely, cracked a few vertebrae in his neck with tilts of his head to either side and groaned a response. “We need to get ready to leave... been here too long as it is.” He yawned again deeply and shook his head trying to throw off the waking drowsiness. “Besides, it’s light out. We can get to across the border by... by afternoon. If we’re lucky that is.”

He reached over to his packs laid out beside his bed and opened one, withdrawing a small plastic wrapped bag with worn markings and words on it’s sides. He tore it open the bag and it revealed even smaller plastic packets of several different colors, all uniformly a dull olive or sandy drab. He tore one open taking from it a small, light tan cracker. He held it out toSparks, and spoke with an empty expression. “Breakfast first though.”

She tilted her head slightly, still immersed in waking delirium. She wreathed the cracker in her cyan magic, pulled it to her face and she stared at it turning it this way and that before taking a graceless, but delicate bite from it. She found the stale and brittle food’s flavor -or lack thereof- strangely repulsive as it all but turned to mushy powder in her mouth. “Ugh... how old is this?”

“Probably a century and some change. Prewar rations and all...” He tore another packet open, revealing a mushy, altogether unappetizing brown congealed slop within. He tilted it into his mouth, eating a sizeable amount what the package declared to be ‘potato stew’ and swallowed lazily without a visible reaction in his face.

Even though its taste matched the looks of it, bland and in dire need of seasoning, Eagle had eaten so many of these emergency meal packs before it had become second nature just to simply finish it and not complain. He only wished that more griffon food packs were in Equestria, ones with meat and things he could digest more easily, but he had once mused that loosely termed ‘foodstuffs’ from century old plastic bags and boxes were going to be bad regardless.

Sparks took another bite, albeit with far more reluctance and visible hesitation in her expression as her tongue tried to avoid touched the cracker too much. Without success she took a canteen from her saddlebags and chased the powdery chalk like cracker with water. Eventually she gave up trying to eat the thing, piece by piece, and opted to devour the whole thing at once to get it over with quickly, swallowing more of her water after it as she fought a slight gag in her voice. “Oh buck... that’s... that’s bad.”

Eagle stifled a small chuckle, and picked up another of the sealed packed and tossed it to her. She caught it in her magical grasp and hesitantly read the description on its side. ‘Peanut Butter’ is what it said.

“Just so happens it’s all we’ve got." Eagle tore open another packet, one with 'potato stew', in his talon before looking at the packet more intently. "This stuff’s got a good side though. Packed with enough preservatives to keep it... ‘fresh’, for a long time and nutrients to match three regular meals. As many as they made before the war they’re useful.”

He wolfed down the packet of the stew, and tossed the pack after emptying it of all the chunks he could. Tearing open another one labeled ‘Chocolate Fudge Brownie’ he tore a piece out of the hard as rock cake and ate the crumbling pieces in chunks with an agitated expression. “Even if they’re effectively dog food.”

It took Sparks a few tries to tear open the packet before finding success, and stared at the oddly creamy yet solid sludge like mass of bright sand hued paste inside it. She sniffed it, and found the scent to be... oddly pleasant.

She had never smelled anything like it before, as her Stable had mostly hydroponic based foodstuffs, a small orchard of ‘apples’, and whatever the Enclave shipped to them in crates, which in the end was more of the same. ‘Cloud-crop’ they called it, and it was nearly tasteless and bland to a point where a Stable grown old ear of maize was more appetizing to her in both appearance and taste.

She dared a small dollop of the peanut butter and, upon tasting its strangely overloading flavor a surprised look of shock shot across her face. “Sweet Celestia...”

Eagle shook his head and grinned as he spoke sympathetically, too absorbed with trying to eat the chocolate brick to notice her expression. “Terrible, isn’t it?”

She shot Eagle a befuddled expression, and after turning back to the peanut butter she all but devoured the creamy delight within like a ravenous beast. It was the most pleasant and delicious thing that had ever graced her taste buds.

Ever.

Eagle looked up and watched her destroy the peanut butter pack with a voracious, insatiable tenacity and wore a somewhat shocked expression as he had been surprised for the first time in years. He watched her lick the inside of the wrapper dry as she hunted for any sliver of the peanut butter that remained inside it, going as far as tearing the packet open further to ensure none of it remained within the creases. He shook his head and gave a low and amused chuckle. “Well I’ll be damned... that’s a first.”

She looked up from the two packet halves that floated before her, licked clean of all the seemingly golden substance within as the dull sandy drab colors were inspected in minute detail for more. She had a rapturous grin across her face, eyes wide with pleasure as the aftertaste still clung to her tongue and cheeks, and she spoke ecstatically. “This stuff is... is... great! Great merciful Goddesses please, please, please tell me you have more of this!”

She waved around the sheets of clean plastic about with an energetic glee that Eagle hadn’t seen in practically forever. It set him uneasy at first, but after a quick recollection of his thoughts he was... glad to see it again. Sighing he dug around the scattered packets, searching for another that wouldn’t likely be present.

“Usually these things only have one of those terrible packs.” ‘Luckily’ he silently thanked whoever deigned only one of those vile things for each meal. “We’ve only got... a juice and instant coffee mix, a... cheese paste pack... aaand, nope. No more peanut butter. Sorry kid.”

The look of delight ebbed in her face in disappointment only slightly as she remembered the blissful taste as she wriggled her tongue around her mouth. She moaned, practically sensually with tightly shut eyes. Movement stirred the campsite, and behindSparks spoke the groggy voice of Green. “The fuck you doing kid, riding your clit to nirvana or something?”

Caught unawares she turned about-face and eyed Green’s lumbering form and agitated expression. Eagle spoke up, interrupting the confusion before it began speaking matter of factly. “No, just her trying out ration peanut butter for the first time.”

Green’s expression went from agitation to confusion faster than one could think possible, and her face held fast for a few seconds before she voiced it in blatant disbelief. “Wait... ration peanut butter?”

“Yep.” Was all Eagle said in a blunt manner, and Green screwed her face up trying to understand it as she lifted herself off her mattress with stiff leaden limbs.

“So you mean to tell me you’re getting off that fuckin’ hard on shitty peanut butter?”Sparks’ expression contorted with confusion as to what she referred, then as realization dawned upon her red hot blushes shot across her slate cheeks as Green continued. “I mean, damn girl if that’s what peanut butter does to you I’ll need earplugs for when you find out about chocolate or blueberries!”

A nearly inaudible chuckle came from Tato, followed by a groan of subtly anguished words as she remained curled up on her own sodden mattress with a wide grin. “Or a buckfriend...”

“Alright...” Eagle said aloud, piercing the silence with a frown. “No need to keep digging.”

Sparks tucked her legs close to her body, now immensely aware of what it must have seemed like. She looked at the two halves of the shining clean packet with terrible embarrassment following every thought, and she was interrupted in her withdrawal by Eagle as he dug into his pack again taking another of the ration packs out and holding it out to her. “Here, the three of you need to eat something.”

Sparks took the bag into her magical grasp and pulled it toward her, one that read as a ‘Veggie Burger and Spaghetti’ meal combo. She didn’t know what it was supposed to mean with either term unrecognized, and she tore the bag open to reveal, much like the first; six or seven of those little drab packets lay within.

She spread them out on the floor between her, Tato, and Green, and they perused them looking for any packets that pleased. Tato spoke up as she held one up with her hooves, turning the writing on it to Green. “Can you... read this? I can’t...”

Green looked up after tearing open a packet and eating indiscriminately whatever was within. It looked like flat patty of beige-brown and pale green... matter of sorts that seemed oddly disgusting, and she chewed with slight displeasure as she spoke. “It reads ‘food’, means ‘eat it or I will’.”

Tato rolled her eyes and showed the packet to Sparks, who narrowed her eyes to read the discolored text. “Uh... ‘Spaghetti’?” She tilted her head in confusion as she raised a brow,curious to see what it was supposed to be with Tato matching her expression eyeing the package, yet hesitance edged her words. “Whatever that is...”

She tore the packet open, and recoiled a little to see the mushy mixture of what looked like worms in a red hued, half congealed sauce of sorts. She smiled shakily, the distrust of the food blatant in her eyes, and hoofed it over to Sparks who was boundlessly confused by its form as she stared into the packet with raised brows. “Eehhh... wanna try it?”

Sparks shrugged, as the scent was vaguely like the tomatoes she had eaten before. Those weren’t bad exactly, but she wondered if this was to be another piece of culinary delight like the peanut butter she so fervently consumed. She levitated out a small portion of the noodles and sauce and, with a test taste, was smacked again in the mouth by the intense flavors of vividly extreme tomato sauce unlike any she had tasted that wreathed the mushy pasta. She smacked her lips and, after a short debate, concluded it wasn’t... bad.

By devouring the entire bag’s contents.

“Good grief girl, slow down or you’ll get hiccups like that!” Tato said as she laughed, with small reservations about Sparks’ tastes showing in her smile. Sparks once again licked clean the packet of the seemingly divine food, moaning again as she ate some of the most tasty fare in existence to her.

Eagle stifled a laugh of his own, and merely shook his head as he swallowed down the rest of his own open food and wished he had her taste buds as she seemed to be in heaven eating what was dirt to him. Sparks coughed as she ate too viciously, and after a moment to catch her breath she breathed deeply to ensure she wasn’t choking. “Oh... oh good Goddesses -ahem-... hmm... This, this stuff is great!”

She looked about within the drab packet and licked what remaining sauce was inside it, and after tossing the empty packet she searched about the rest for one labeled ‘peanut butter’ as the rest of the group took mixed pleasure in watching traditional Stable dweller weirdness in action. Eagle and Green shook their heads, with the former wearing a small grin, and Tato laughed with side splitting mirth as she enjoyed a moment of relative normalcy for the first time in weeks.

When she had found one such packet she pressed the mundane thing to her face with boundless affection before tearing it open and deciding to enjoy the contents for far longer than previously. She wanted to take pleasure in the marvelous paste for some time longer with each dollop that graced her.

Eagle stretched out and stood up to his fours after finishing the last of his own meal, and looked about the campsite and into the window beyond. It was early morning of course, close to six thirty perhaps, and with a subtle displeasure of breaking the euphoria he spoke up in his gravelly voice. “Alright ladies, we need to get a move on. Finish eating while I check around. Afterwards we pack up camp and leave. Got a long road ahead of us.”

Sparks watched him as he packed up his bags with a practiced pattern, and as he lifted them up to his body fastening the belts across his chest and harness; adjusting the fit until it was comfortable enough to be passable. He left the room after donning his hat, pulling his revolver out and gaining a wary and calculating stare as he passed the doorframe moving slowly and methodically. Her eyes trailed from Eagle to the mares who followed Eagle's directions, with Tato reluctantly eating the preserved food with sparing bites and Green chewing hers down hastily with absolutely no reservations visible like it might be her last meal.

She looked around the room for a few minutes and sighed, eyeing the filthy beds and peeled wallpaper that left bare most of the water stained drywall and concrete around them. She lost herself in the almost depressing reality she had blissfully forgotten for a time. Tato saw her let out the breath, and an expression of worry grew on her face; voicing it in her lightly accented farmer’s voice. “You alright Sparks?”

She nodded her head slowly, and her eyes returned to the peanut butter pack in her magical grip sighing again as she spoke melancholically. “Yeah, it’s just... I forgot for a moment that we were out here, in the... The Wasteland, for a moment.”

Green coughed a little as she wolfed down the rest of her meal before standing to her fours and shook her head. She spoke bluntly with no hint of compassion in her voice. “Get used to it Stable girl, odds are you’ve got your whole life left out here in the dirt.”

Sparks’ eyes sank to her hooves as she wondered how at all she would try to acclimate to this kind of life, and she gave a short and dull laugh as she lifted her eyes back to Green. “How am I supposed to get used to it? It’s just... a polar opposite really to what I know, what I’ve done all my life... Wake up, go to breakfast, go to wo-” Tato interrupted her before Green could speak again, trying to actually help instead of leaving her high and dry in the wind with nothing to guide her.

“Listen Sparks, I... I don’t know how I’d help you ‘get used to it’, being born out here I guess makes it all we know. So living out here is second nature for us, I can’t imagine how... hectic it seems to a Stable dweller.” She took another nibble from the strange mash in front of her, and visible recoil was etched plainly in her face. She swallowed, wincing and smiled despite it. “In the end, all I can give as advice is take it one hoof at a time. You gotta learn to walk before you can run and all that. Get your bearings, and go from there.”

Green chuckled grimly as she moved around their camp collecting odd scraps of cloth as she seemed to search for something. “Can’t take it too slow kid, The Wastes chews up ponies right fast who aren’t quick learners. Best way to learn how to swim is getting thrown in the water.”

Her eyes seemed to light up when she found a large patch-work quilted blanket of sorts that wasn’t too destroyed by the years and elements, and she threw it over her back like a sort of cloak as she sized it up and seemed to work something out in her mind. She shook her head and cast off the blanket and looked around for anything else of value she could grab, but found nothing and just scoffed and turned to leave the room. Tato shook her head and fixed her with an accusing look. “And if she drowns? Come on Green, try to care a little.”

Green laughed at her words grimly, and shook her head as she passed them. “This isn’t about sympathy farm filly, it’s about survival. If you can’t find food to eat, you starve. If you can’t find water to drink, you die -slow and terrible. If you can’t fight off a group of raiders...” She fixed a cold and merciless stare with Tato who, despite the desire to retort kept her piece. “...You get killed, or worse....”

The jab sent a short shiver through Tato’s body, yet she kept her stalwart and accusing expression as she spoke shakily. “It so happens I wasn’t talking about eating, if you can’t keep sane there’s no point to surviving. A living lunatic is just as bad as a dead sane pony. Sparks here, she’s getting hammered by the cruel and hateful world trying to keep her marbles.”

Before Green could retort, Eagle stepped through the door as he holstered his revolver with a flat and almost annoyed look on his face as he glanced between Tato and Green, then to Sparks as he let out a short sigh. “Chariots fine, no sign of anything else around either. Time to hit the road.”

Tato stood up to her fours after nodding, and Green passed Eagle by as she gave a short huff, cutting the talk from her mind. Sparks however just hung her head again and sighed before she made moves to stand. Eagle watched her sling her saddlebags across her back with her shining cyan magic, and he watched as Tato left the room, eager for a change of scenery by the haste she had.

He shook his head and looked Sparks in the eyes when she moseyed over to the door with a distant stare and a bothered expression, holding the remains of the peanut butter pack in her magic. He spoke low and warmly to her, trying to help get her mind off the conversation he heard in minute detail. “Why don’t you turn on the radio? Could use the music.”

Sparks looked from him to her PipBuck with a certain subconscious wariness. She was worried the DJ would spout more of her exploits again, or other pieces of news that would shake her the way he did yesterday, but in the end a smile grew across her lips as she remembered the blissful music that he played.

She nodded, and with a few button pushes of her magic the sonorous jazz styled music emanated from the device’s speaker. They stood there for a moment, taking in the richly baritone notes and the smooth, low and easy tunes of brass horns, all topped by the familiar suavity of ‘Mic Domino’.

“When somepony loves you, it’s no good unless they love you...”

“Heart and soul”

“Happy to be with you, when you need somepony to cheer you...”

“Heart and soul...”

“Taller than the most alpine peak is, that’s how it’s got to feel...”

“Deeper than the deepest ocean trench is, that’s how deep it goes...”

“If it’s real...”

“When somepony needs you, it’s no good unless they need you...”

“Heart and soul...”

“Through the good or lean times and through all the in-between times...”

“Come what may...”

“Who knows where the road will lead us, only a fool would say...”

“But if you let me love you, it’s absolute I’m gonna love you...”

“Heart and soul...”

“Heart and soul...”

“So if you let me love you, it’s absolute I’m gonna love you...”

“Heart and soul...”

“Heart and soul!”

With the ending crescendo the song ebbed into silence, and the music’s passing left a conflicted feeling in Sparks. The song was... wonderful, to her. Beautiful, even more so than the rest she had heard already after all the songs that had played over the radio, but it left a certain empty feeling in her chest. A wrenching and tugging feeling inside her blossomed from the song, and she couldn’t place the reason.

Before she delved further into her thoughts Eagle sighed as the radio just began to play another song, an instrumental piece of a jazz band, and shook his head speaking tohimself in half grumbles as he turned to leave that Sparks could hear just barely. “Ever since I went there... bad idea...”

She tilted her head slightly before following him out of the room and into the large expanse of the ruined building beyond their camp, and she spoke to him in a whisper. “What do you mean Eagle? What was a bad idea?”

He looked at her with a sudden turn of his head with a surprised expression before he faced back ahead of him. A tense look grew on his features as he realized he said it aloud. “Nothing, it’s... it’s nothing.”

She didn’t press further, despite wanting to as she saw the distant and melancholic stare he wore, but merely followed him past the inner ruins and into the outside air, immersed in a humid yet lukewarm air beyond.

Footnote: Red Eagle level 21

Sparks level 3

Chapter 11: I'll Fall

Chapter 11: I’ll Fall

Over the course of the next three hours as the group drove across the open spaces, little was said between them. Bored and numbed by the noises of the road and chariot they watched as the terrain whipped past them. Misfortune would have it though, as after some sputtering noise erupted from the machine it began to slow, despite Eagle’s persistence on the pedals in the floor board.

“Aw fuck!” He said as the chariot slid to a complete stop. “Fucking hell, the battery’s dead.”

“Dead?” Tato said looking to him over the seat with confused eyes, startled by the sudden stop. “What do you mean dead?”

“Drained, empty, dry; meaning we’re dead in the water.” He rubbed his beak’s ridge, sighed and shook his head. “I was hoping there was enough juice in this thing to at least get us up north, but that doesn’t seem the case anymore. Damn raiders, can’t keep batteries charged for shit.”

As he kept working the key to try and start it, the engine merely gave dull and empty cranking noises, like steel on steel in quick succession. Sparks looked outside at the open wasteland around them between the slates like blinds. Open desert, seemingly endless save for some distant mountains to the west, barely blips on the horizon. She shook her head, thinking as she scratched her chin. “Hey Eagle? Where’s the battery compartment at on this thing?”

“I haven’t a clue,” he said, shrugging “no telling what those guys did to this thing. If they didn’t move it though...” He reached down near the floorboard, searching for something until they all heard a big clunk in the chassis. “It should be behind the hood.”

They disembarked from the chariot, each and every one stretching out their achy joints in thanks for a pit stop, albeit worried for the reason. Sparks circled around the machine until she saw a compartment plate of sorts angled open above the rear bumper. It spanned the length of the machine’s rear and reached up around four hooves in height, near the rear glass.

She found the latch beneath it and propped it open on the intact rod inside it and looked around inside the machine’s guts, as it was again the only way she could describe the greasy and filthy insides, but eventually she found what she was looking for.

It was an incredibly dirty version of a battery she had seen plenty of before, a large rectangular box with steel fins on the sides that held two red cylinders on top of it. On the cylinders was a symbol she also had intimate knowledge of; a star shaped sparkle that was painted bright yellow. Below that symbol used to be technical information on a sticker, yet time had apparently worn it off completely.

Eagle tilted his head as he watched her, and spoke flatly. “What are you thinking Sparks?”

“Well...” she said as she took out a screwdriver and removed the battery’s clamps “these chariots run off of sparkle cells right? Batteries can be recharged and usually are by some kind of alternator or dynamo, which this chariot doesn’t seem to have. I had to recharge these all the time back in Ninety-Six, siphoning charges from cell to cell, but the, ah... tricky part is the cells themselves.”

“Meaning?” Eagle said keeping his tone.

“Meaning that if this cell is in a decent condition I can recharge it here; unless we’ve got another one of these micro sparkle plant cells I’ll have to use some of my flash pistol’s to do it, but It’s... possible I can give this sucker enough of a charge to get us further.”

“How many cells you got? Those magical energy weapons are useful, far more than what we scrounged off those raiders.”

Sparks sighed and shrunk a little, shook her head and managed to pull the magic wreathed battery out and set it down on the ground. “I’ve got around seven or eight of the small cells, and this large one might take more that that for one hundred percent...”

“We don’t need a hundred, just enough for five or six hours of driving.”

“Then... maybe fifteen or twenty? Being honest though I won’t know if this will work until I hook the cells to it and see it takes a charge.”

Eagle looked around The Wastelands around them, as if searching for something, grumbled under his breath he just shook his head. “Fine, do it.”

Sparks took out four of her little yellow sparkle cell packs and laid them next to the much larger cell in comparison, along with a set of cables with clamps she had in her saddlebags. She hooked the clamps to the posts on the larger battery, then on one of the smaller cell’s nodes with a nervous frown. She had heard stories of these larger cells being damaged before, and usually such tales ended with the tech pony being bathed in a burst of magical energy. Usually that equated to a bomb going off with untold side effects of random wild magic going off. Sparkle cells were, in a word, finicky with age, and she flinched when she saw some purple sparks shoot off of the posts.

She held her breath. Nothing. No explosion, nothing that would be detrimental. She sighed deeply, thanking the Goddesses for the large cell being in a decent enough condition. Eagle shot her a look at her movements, and spoke accusingly. “Sparks... something wrong?”

“Thankfully, no... No telling how these century old batteries can react sometimes.”

“Warn us next time then?” Eagle said, sighing. “Taking risks like that, right next to us and the only means of transport we have, isn’t exactly smart.”

She looked up, sudden embarrassed realization flashed across her face as she smiled slightly. “Oh, sorry...”

“Seriously kid,” Green spoke up, agitated “not cool.”

“I said I was sorry guys!” Sparks said defensively as she shrank back.

“It’s alright Sparks,” Tato said, still stretching her legs out “Don’t worry too hard about it, just, uh... well, I guess remember next time to warn us.” She smiled deeply, and chuckled. “Although, it was funny to watch your face twist up like that.”

Sparks sat silently as she shook her head. Turning back to the cell she felt the heat of her blushes on her cheeks, and tried her best to focus on the battery itself. Usually, there was some light indicator on the side that displayed the charge level, but it was dim; probably broken she figured. She mentally shrugged and slumped against the chariot. “This might take a while guys.” She said sighing deeply.

Eagle gave a nod and looked to the other two mares and spoke. “Alright; might as well get comfortable mares.”

*** *** ***

After about thirty minutes’, Sparks seemed to start getting agitated by the large sparkle cell before her. She never had to deal with such a bad example of one before, and the only way she knew the cell was taking a charge was her pistol’s display on the side for charges. It was taking a charge, well enough she supposed, but without so much as an altimeter she didn’t know where the cell was at as far as charge levels.

Eagle looked back to her as he kept watch on the horizon beyond and gave a short cough. “She done yet?”

“Maybe...?” Sparks said as she stared at the sparkle cells. “It should be taking a charge but the only reason is these cells are dead. Only one way to find out if it’s working I guess.”

“Well try and hurry up; I don’t like camping out here in the middle of nowhere.” Eagle said, and as he turned around they all heard the whiz of a bullet rip past them. Eagle ducked, turned about and shouted out as a distant report of a rifle sounded southeast of them. “Sniper!! Take cover!!”

The three mares scrambled to their hooves and dove next to Eagle as he crouched low behind the cover of the chariot. Sparks and Tato held expressions of fear as sudden as the incursion, but Green and Eagle both had hard and calculating stares as their heads whipped about trying to place the direction of the attack.

“Great, just fuckin’ great!” Green shouted. “Not even a few days out of The Hoof and I’m in another shootout!”

“Keep your head level Green!” Eagle shouted at her with the authority of a commander. “That shot just zipped past my ears from that way!” He pointed a claw southeast, and grimaced. “Damn near took my head off!”

“Why... why would someone take potshots at us?” Tato said, panicking. “Just some nobodies in the middle of the desert!”

“Might be the chariot they’re after,” Eagle said, thinking “or my fucking head if I know my luck!”

“What do you mean your head Eagle?” Sparks said, her voice cracking with disbelief. “Why would somepony be after you!?”

“Number of reasons, but they aren’t ponies.” He said quickly and curtly. “The big one I’ve tried to avoid, but I think the damn Dee-Jay tipped them off.”

Another bullet pinged off the chariot’s other side, and a ricochet was heard as the bullet spun off into the air and the report was heard again. Eagle cursed under his breath as the rifle report was closer now, and he began fiddling with his battle saddle. “Sparks! Green! Tato! I’m gonna need you here. Griffons may be inbound and they’re definitely not friendly! You two, grab some weapons from the chariot! Sparks, pull your pistol and be ready to use that spell in your PipBuck!”

Sparks looked at him with a small panic of her own growing, but she pulled her pistol as ordered. Green greedily pulled a mouth-held double barreled shotgun from the chariot and Tato armed herself with some sort of ramshackle rifle; the awkwardness of the weapon plainly etched on her face as she tried to ready it without a saddle mount.

Sparks shook her head in confusion as she tried to process the situation. “Why do you think griffons are after us? You’re the only one I’ve seen out-”

“Because I’ve kept it so!” Eagle interrupted her as he finished detaching his rifle from his harness.

He planted the back end of it against his chest, next to his right shoulder, and took a stance that looked bizarre to the mares. His talons held the rifle fast against him, and he used iron sights on the rifle as he peaked out of cover by his hind legs and sent several rounds downrange. In the few seconds he broke cover, he saw at least three griffons in the air, and he dived back down groaning in agitation as he spoke.

“Talon Company’s had a bounty on my ass for a long time, and that fucking radio just told them I was here!” He resisted the urge to think of how they managed to track him out in the open Wastelands, and he looked at the mares as he tried to form some plan to keep them from dying. He gave a short sigh as he spoke succinctly. “Alright. Tato, you know how to use that?”

“Kinda...!?” She shouted as her panic grew. “I never learned hoof shootin’ before, nevermind against trained mercs!”

“I’m going to need you calm Tato, this is no time for panic! Breath, just breath until I say to fire alright!?”

“Okay... okay, I’ll- I’ll try!”

“Green!?” He turned to her, her own expression concentrated. “Don’t waste ammo unless they get close, and aim for their wings or heads! Everything else is armored and that twenty gauge won’t cut it!” All she did was nod as she racked back the hammers on the weapon. Finally, Eagle turned to Sparks as she was wide eyed; her expression beginning to crack. “Sparks! I’ll need you to do the same as Green, but pop out of cover on my marks and do not, I repeat do not get out from behind this chariot!”

Both Tato and Sparks flinched, recoiling down behind the chariot as another round pinged off the chariot. Sparks spoke up and managed to speak, albeit cracking. “Alright Eagle, I’ll... I’ll try!”

Eagle rose out of cover again and sent three more rounds at the aerial foes, and would have cleaned one’s clock had the griffon not strafed away from the line of fire. Instead a round missed, one splattered against his armor, and the third seemed to take feathers off his head. The possible wounds seemed apparent as his flight pattern swayed severely before he dived back down. “They’re maybe two hundred yards out and closing! Sparks, take a shot when I jump out of cover!”

She nodded, and when Eagle stood up and shot several more times she angled out of cover and activated S.A.T.S. once again.

The time stopping power of the spell brought clarity to all that was beyond them. She even saw the blurry trails of Eagle’s bullets impact the winged menaces. They were odd looking, she thought at first. Griffons, like Eagle was, but their sandy drab, brown speckled armor and clothes would have made them blend in had it not been for the grey cloud smothered sky above. She took a moment switching between different targets, trying to find one that had the best chances, but unfortunately all of them were lower than fifties.

She did however take time to think as to the why of the situation. Why were griffons attacking them, why Eagle had a bounty as he said, why the world seemed hell-bent on turning her into a killer; all of it was little more than faded musings in the heat of battle though as she cued up two shots as ordered, and sent the magical red beams flying.

One of the griffons seemed to have far better reaction time than the raiders did she noticed, as when she cued the attacks the change number dropped by at least ten points. The reason for it was evident by the dive he took, yet the beam luckily enough still hit the target. His wing slowly billowed out a plum of blackened smoke, and she saw faintly at that distance numerous feathers flying off from the limb.

The damage seemed to impair his flying pretty badly as well, as he seemed to start dropping out of the sky with little more than a controlled descent. The second shot however missed widely in his plummet. She looked around, the stench of ozone in her nostrils and bile on her taste buds again to the occasion. She ducked back down as the spell began to wear off, and the last thing she saw in the spell’s crawling time was a speeding bullet that ripped past her scalp before she hit the ground.

Time reasserted itself, and she panted heavily as Eagle shifted around the chariot’s cover. “Good hit Sparks!” He shouted as Sparks began shake. “I’ll need you to move and target the other’s wings! If we can ground them-” He looked over at her and noticed the one thing he couldn’t deal with presently. She was locking up, panicking in earnest as her eyes were locked ahead of her; the sounds of pinging bullets ricocheted off into the air. “Sparks!! Stay with me!”

She didn’t react; she couldn’t. Her mind, given time to process it all, realized she almost died in that exchange. A bullet, small yet ominous, almost ripped her skull apart, and would have had she not ducked down in time. S.A.T.S. or not, she came an inch close to death; and it scared her beyond compare to anything. “I-I-I...” She said, stuttering with wide shot eyes. “I almost... d-d-died...!”

She reflexively tightened herself up against the chariot’s side, and began to cough as her stomach rebelled with the concept. Eagle wanted to smack the thought out of her, but he knew they hadn’t the time to deal with her reactions. He looked over to Tato and shouted orders. “Tato, take her pistol! It works much like a regular gun, trigger and all, and I need that gun in this fight; Sparks isn’t with us!!”

“O-Okay!” Tato shouted shakily as she ditched the awkward rifle for the flash pistol that lay next to Sparks. She wanted to help her out of whatever she was feeling, but the drive to fight overrode those instincts. Thankfully, it had a mouth-grip she could use and she felt far more comfortable with it, except for maybe it being a magic weapon. She hoisted it and peeked out of cover to give a test fire, and the bright flash of red that struck out half startled her.

Eagle jumped from cover himself, and the burst he sent downrange found much more purchase at the griffons closed in much too fast for comfort. “Damn it, they’re getting close! Green, at the ready!” he shouted, and Green took a low stance, shotgun angled up to catch these birds of prey.

In Sparks’ mind however, all the chaotic din of battle once again melded into a frenzy of hellish imaginings made reality. Her eyes, locked on some distant unseen detail, quivered as her chest struggled for air; her throat tight and mouth dry. She heard the gunshots nearing in, the fire from Eagle and Tato blazing across her senses despite a distant ringing in her ears, and suddenly one massive blast from Green as a griffon flew over the chariot -their shadow disappearing as quickly as it emerged- and the lifeless, headless body plummeted to the ground with a tumble.

She managed to pull her eyes over as she watched the griffon crash into the ground, and bits of meaty chunks splattered across the ground with little droplets of blood scattering. She tore her eyes away from that in a panic and saw Tato. Her eyes were wide with terror, and just as quickly she watched with terror as the mare took shots in her flanks. Tato fell as her expression twisted from fear into agony, and she slumped on the ground, writhing in pain as some shadow zipped over her.

She managed to tear her eyes away from that, and straight ahead she saw Red Eagle in front of her with a wide stance as if protecting her. She still shook, and her ears slowly, but surely, regained some hearing. What she heard however, wasn’t Eagle or Green, but another voice unrecognized. “Red Eagle... or, should I call you ‘Bartus’ now?”

The voice chuckled grimly, and Eagle retorted with a low growl behind his words. “I haven’t much care of what you call me, Major.”

His boots shifted beneath him, and Sparks managed to angle her head enough to see around him. She saw two griffons before them, both wearing that worn chocolate chip camouflaged barding, but now up close she saw black talon decals on their breastplates, one on each like a mark of allegiance. The one in front, a grizzled and steely eyed, white feathered griffon held a hard expression, and the one on the side seemed injured with a grazing wound to the head. The detail that Sparks seized on though was Green in the talons of the latter griffon as she rebelled against capture, her shotgun several yards away as she bled slowly from a leg wound.

The first one had a rifle in his talons as he held himself up on his hind legs, trained on Eagle who had his revolver in his talon. The white feathered one looked at Sparks with curious eyes, but kept the rifle still. “Never knew you were partial to ponies Eagle; last time I saw you, you hated them with a passion yet... here you are traveling with three of ‘em.”

“Let me go you bastards!!” Green shouted, but the griffon body slammed her into the dirt; the air blown out of her.

Eagle merely snarled as he spoke. “Haven’t got much time for hate; not a stupid kid anymore.” He grumbled, his revolver trained on the Major’s head.

The opposing griffon shook his head and smirked. “You really haven’t changed. Brash, arrogant, deadly; problems with rules and orders. You should have known not to come back here again.”

“I did; money was too good though.”

“Ah, you’re working; as usual.” He took a deep draught of air and sighed. “So it’s worse than I thought. Not only are you back, in the flesh, but you’re taking jobs. I had hoped hearing your old pop’s name down in Dodge was just coincidence.” He grinned a touch, but shook his head again. “You see Eagle, as much as I liked you, gave concessions for your bullshit, you knew the agreement I hashed out.”

“That agreement was to not take jobs in the south. This is a northern one, and besides you’re out of your jurisdiction.”

“Details, Eagle... always watch the details. Northern job or not you’re in the south again. I also didn’t... feel the need to correct you but I’ve got a leaf now. I’ve got jurisdiction from the Hoofington border up to Baltimare’s; I’m not chained to Manehattan anymore, the pricks.” He grimaced, and sighed as he shouldered his weapon. “And I’ve got orders to haul you in; preferably alive. You know I don’t want to fuck with you -I’ve seen your work- but you know how it is.”

“Yeah,” Eagle said, crouching lower “you never did turn down orders or contracts... Lieutenant Colonel, I guess. Talon’s code and all; that pretty code of yours is going to burn you.”

“You did learn that the hard way, didn’t you?” The Colonel said, sighing. “Come on Eagle, make this easy for me. You aren’t going to hang for this you know?”

“You had a sniper trained on me for a kill shot and you talk of making it easy? Hanging or not I’ve got shit to do. You’re fucking with my timetable and if you don’t leave me the fuck alone I’ll end you.”

The Colonel sighed deeply, and merely smirked. “That’s why I always liked you, Eagle; you never took no for an answer.”

It was then that the Colonel ducked down and strafed as Eagle pulled the trigger; four shots in rapid succession. He returned fire, the bullets splattering against the chariot and Eagle’s armor and Sparks threw herself down against the ground trying to avoid the gunshots. She panicked again as Eagle pounced up with a mighty wing beat and sent two more shots at his target, and one found purchase it seemed as the griffon slowed for but a second with a subtle and small spout of blood flying from a wing.

Sparks looked over at Green who, in nearly untraceable motions, threw a hind leg out with a buck to the griffon’s groin. The griffon buckled, his grasp weakened enough for her to break free and deliver a skull crunching roundhouse buck to his forehead. The griffon stumbled for a few moments, but it was enough for her to leap onto his back and try to strange him.

Sparks looked back over to Tato as she scrambled in the dirt to stand, the flash pistol a few paces away. In a sudden fit of defensive instinct however she used her magic to rip the pistol to her, much to Tato’s surprise, and Sparks powered on the S.A.T.S. spell again as she looked up to see the duel of griffons above.

As time began to slow to the ever familiar crawl she detested, the battle they waged seemed... majestic, in a sense. They dived and twisted, attack after attack they exchanged with gunshots that went wide, the few finding purchase on the broad plates of their armors. When their weapons went dry they discarded them and pulled blades, and waged a desperate battle of razors. She targeted the Colonel, a griffon whose identity she was confused about but knew she hadn’t the time to reflect on it, cued up shots on his wings.

The chances were dire, for Eagle perhaps if he couldn’t defeat this griffon. She remembered again his wounds, not given much chance to heal, and the fifty percent chances that shifted constantly between ten points would have to suffice. She sent them flying again without knowing why or how she managed to, still feeling sick to her stomach, but the bright red beams of magic flew.

Out of the four shots she cued, two hit, and out of the two one was gruesome as bile threatened her again. The first beam connected on the wing squarely, scorching the flesh and feathers quite effectively, and when the second beam hit she saw in painful clarity the feathers and flesh, tendons, muscles and bones all merely turn to ash. Luckily, in her mind, the spell failed to render the entire griffon into ashes, but the wing the beam hit did.

The Colonel, with only a single wing, now plummeted to the ground as the magic of S.A.T.S. ended. In that space of accelerating time his face contorted into agony, and when he hit the ground he bounced off with the sound of crunching bones. He finally fell still on the ground, a single wing draping him as he tried to stand. The shock was too much however for him to bear, and the pain was excruciating by his animalistic growls and half shouts.

Eagle landed a few paces away next to his rifle and reloaded his revolver, the casings dumping out onto the soil with noiseless clatters. He hoisted his rifle up, reloaded that at he approached the Colonel as he groveled trying to stand. Eagle only had a stony, murderous expression.

“I fucking told you.” He looked over to Tato with a hanging beak as he was going to speak, but found her merely standing there panting. He looked over to Sparks surprised, and stared at the pistol in her magic grasp, and nodded. “Good job Sparks.”

“Alright Eagle,” the Colonel said, gasping in pain “just finish it already.”

“Why would I Colonel?” He looked over to Green as she stood over the other, nameless griffon; covered in red splatters and droplets as she had managed to beat his head into a bloody pulp; pieces of feathers and tissue clung to her hooves. “I ought to leave you here bleeding in the dirt with pretty boy over there.”

“You know why Eagle!” He half shouted as he tried to roll over, but before he could stand Eagle fired his revolver into one of his legs. The limb shuddered and blood squirted out of the wound in a small ribbon, and the Colonel screamed. “Ah, fuckin’ hell!!”

“Why should I give a shit about what you want, huh!?” Eagle shouted at him, and the Colonel started laughing grimly.

“Talon doesn’t do desk jobs you know!! What use is a griffon to them with only... with only one fuckin’ wing! You won Eagle, and now I’m fucked and you know it!!”

Eagle quickly and succinctly put two bullets in the griffon’s head with a sneer, shaking his head. “Shut the fuck up Garret.” He stepped around him and approached the chariot and the three mares with a grimace. “Had enough of your wind damned mouth.”

“Damn Eagle...!” Tato said, still shaking from head to hooves. “He... he didn’t need to die...!”

“The fuck he didn’t.” Green said, limping to the chariot and smearing blood off her mouth. “That fuckin’ featherhead ambushes us on the road and you want to leave him breathin’? Ain’t the way to be farm filly.”

“Enough!” Eagle shouted as he turned around, scouting out the horizon for other threats. “We can bitch and moan later, Green and I will get what we can off them while you and Sparks get the damn chariot running. Move it!” Eagle pointed a talon at Tato, then toSparks. “I don’t care how much juice that cell’s got, we’re getting out of here.”

Sparks held a wide eyed expression as she stared at the Colonel, Garret Eagle had called him, as he lay on the ground, dead with ashes scattered around him. She realized that once again she had taken a life, effectively speaking. His words emanated in her mind, and she felt guilt deep inside her well up before Eagle shouted again. “Sparks!! Get the chariot up and running, we are getting out of here!”

She recoiled from his demands before turning around and set to work with shaky hooves and magic. Tato came up from behind her, limping as she did, and set a hoof on her back. “Hey, Sparks... stay with me girl, okay?” She stayed quiet as she fumbled with the sparkle cells, putting them back into her packs along with the clamps. Her body shook, as Tato felt, and she rubbed her back trying to help her out of whatever she was feeling. “Sparks, come on now, talk to me...”

“What should I say!?” Sparks shouted as she threw her head to her, her eyes watering. “I nearly take a b-bullet to the head and I’m s-supposed to be calm!?”

“Of course not girl!” Tato said, her eyes wincing from her own wounds. “Of course not!”

She grabbed Sparks and hugged her fiercely, despite her protests. After a few moments she relented and broke apart in her embrace. For a minute or so she merely wept into Tato’s chest as she patted her back, shushing her. “Hey, it’s okay Sparks... It’s going to be okay...” She turned her head to where Eagle and Green were looting the three dead griffons with a wicked, hateful glare, but she turned back and kept trying to comfort Sparks. “Don’t think about it, it didn’t happen okay...?”

“B-but it c-c-could have!” she stuttered out weeping, but Tato held her tighter.

“But it didn’t, alright? It didn’t. Don’t think about it...”

After a few minutes Sparks wept the last of her tears, and sniffled with swollen eyes. She looked to Tato and nodded, speaking in near whispers. “Th-Thanks...”

“Don’t mention it girl... you, well... I owe you. Now, let’s see about fixing this up, huh?”Sparks nodded, and turned around as she wiped her nose with a sleeve, and replaced the large sparkle cell into the chariot.

Eagle turned over Garret last, as he grumbled under his breath as he heard the entire exchange. He wanted to bail out of there as soon as possible, but he knew whipping Sparksany harder would render her useless. He merely shook his head as he turned over his old accomplice, dug through the dead griffon’s satchels and bags to find a decent haul. The griffon came light, he mused, and wondered if he knew he wouldn’t win the fight. Only a few magazines of ammunition he could use and some basic medical supplies, some water canteens and such.

Little more than a bare bones travel kit for crossing distances. He shook his head and wondered further if he meant to die there. He remembered their old times together, in Talon Company. He was the griffon, one of the few that understood Eagle and why he did what he did... so long ago it seemed as he looked back through the years.

However, in the end he was the very griffon that let him live afterwards, and he was the very griffon sent after him -chasing after broken promises and his head. Eagle wondered if he was truly the type of griffon to purposefully die, maybe he wanted it that way instead of croaking to old age or something stupid like a raider attack; maybe he wanted to die to something worth dying to. The thought burned a hole in his mind as he turned around and looked at the corpses of his small squad.

“Hopefully not.” He said under his breath. If that was the case, then he led two others to die with him. It twisted an emotion inside him. Disgust. Shaking his head he looked over to Green, who was hauling a saddlebag brimming with equipment on her back as she limpedalong., and he looked back to Sparks and Tato as they stood up from the chariot and shut the hood. He sighed, and spoke levelly. “Alright, let’s pack up and get out of here. Sparks, can you operate in the chariot?”

“It...” she said, coarsely as she rubbed her throat with a hoof “it might be difficult, but probably.”

“Alright. You tend to them while we drive. Mount up mares; we’re leaving.”

*** *** ***

It had been two hours after Red Eagle had started up the chariot to their relief. Sparksstitched up Tato and Green, their wounds more superficial flesh wounds than anything; shots meant to disable, not kill to which she was thankful. A removed bullet and dollops of healing potion later and all they were was dirty and blood matted around the wounds. She was glad to help them, again, and sighed when she put her tools away.

The terrain over that time became rocky and mountainous as the open plains of The Wasteland ebbed away, and they began to climb upwards into the mountain roads that twisted and turned about the landscape as sheer cliffs and rock ledges became common sights along the path. The road itself was treacherous, at least for the chariot, which made Eagle’s driving become seemingly erratic and slow as he tried to avoid the worst of the rubble and rockslides that littered the way. He had walked this same path nearly a month ago, and remembered some of the sights, but the sheer width of the chariot became more of a hindrance than a boon.

One thing entered Sparks’ mind as they drove on. They had left the bodies behind them, unceremoniously for whatever Wastelandic vultures could find them, and Sparks still didn’t truly grasp the why of it all. She knew why, per se, but the curiosity in her head as the shock of the entire dilemma had passed into weariness.

She looked over to Eagle, her radio silent as she had no mood for the music she found so beautiful. “Eagle...?” she said, withdrawn. “Can I... ask you a question?”

“Hasn’t stopped you before; but sure... got nothing else to do.”

“Why did... they attack us? Those griffons with... Talon Company?” Eagle sighed, and he shifted in the seat as he scratched his beak.

“That’s a long story... probably longer than I’m willing to look back.”

“We got a few hours don’t we?” Green said, admittedly curious. “Might as well hear something that isn’t that isn’t that damned radio.”

Eagle grumbled under his breath and rubbed his eyes. “Alright, fine then. Well... the short version is I used to work for them. I left around... five or six years ago after I... committed what they call a ‘gross dereliction of duty’. They’ve had a bounty on my head ever since.”

Tato looked at him with squinted eyes and spoke; confusion in her expression. “A... what?”

“Gross dereliction of duty; I called it justice but they wouldn’t have any of it. Every creature’s got their idea of what is or isn’t a crime, but that was their problem, not mine.” He sighed again as he looked back through the years. “That justice I saw to was on a section of Talon itself. One of their units, the fourth company, was hanging around Appleloosa, dealing with the slavers there. I had a problem with that, and killed them.”

“All of them?” Green asked with disbelief. “How many guys we talkin’ about?”

“There were maybe twenty of them. I don’t remember exactly how much, but in the end all of them were dead at camp. It was Garret back there who was my commander at the time, and he was sent to the camp when they got their distress calls.” He shook his head as he remembered; his beak twisted into grimaces as Green whistled. “In the end I called in a favor, and he let me go. Said it was because he ‘liked me’, that I was a good soldier in the Company, but such a crime wasn’t going to be tolerated. He said he’d let me go only if I left the Central Wastelands for good. That he’d say I ran off and escaped ‘justice’, alter the reports.

“Truth is he didn’t want to die trying to fight me. I sat in a camp of two dozen dead griffons, armed and trained killers and fighters. Doesn’t matter though as he’s dead now. The only thing I regret from that time was I took the deal and left Appleloosa standing.”

“To be honest,” Tato said, sorrowfully “even had you... well, killed them all they’d be replaced. I’ve seen it before with raiders at least; too many ponies or... whatever, around here willing to slave others out for a quick cap.”

“Pretty much.” Eagle said, glowering at the road ahead. “That’s how I’ve dealt with it; no shortage of shitty creatures.”

Sparks sat uncomfortably in her seat as she shifted around and learned of another group who perpetrated evils in her eyes to hate. She turned to Eagle as she spoke. “Sooo... does all of Talon do that kind of thing? Raiding and... and slaving?”

“Thankfully not.” He said flatly. “Don’t think I would have worked for them if that was the case. This was just one group; they got a contract out of Appleloosa to guard the town, deal with idiot raiders or competition. When I saw two of them trying to haul three ponies by chains though I felt as if every griffon wearing that damn insignia needed killing. Not anymore though. But... that’s the why of it. Not much else to tell.”

Sparks nodded as she began to understand. Her growing hate for the group alleviated, she sank back into her seat and relaxed as much as she could, but her weariness was edged with anticipation as she looked out the slated window. The skies were darker than usual, but her PipBuck said it was noon. She turned back to Eagle and spoke again. “Um... Eagle, is it normal for it to be this dark around noon?”

“Not unless we’ve got a storm coming,” he said as he peered outside, up to the sky “which seems to be the case; finally going to get some rain it looks like.” He turned to Sparks, curiosity in his eyes. “Where are we at Sparks? On the map.”

She brought her PipBuck up and dialed the buttons until the map of Equestria blipped into existence, keyed in on their position, and she zoomed out a ways to get her bearings. “It looks like we’re... up near the Foal Mountains. They’re east of us and, erm... Canterlot is West.”

“Good...” He sighed in relief. “Maybe we can be left alone for a minute. With that storm heading our way I’d like to charge the battery a bit more before it hits. Don’t want to be left out in the open with a storm like that if I can help it.”

“Aren’t you worried about more ambushes Eagle?” Green piped up, her words edged with suspense. “Last pit stop wasn’t pleasant to say the least.”

“The only thing this far north will be overly desperate raiders or mutants crawling around. If we’re quick we can charge up and bail before there’s an issue.” He said, pulling the vehicle over into an alcove of rocks on the side of the road, and switched the engine off. The rumbling cacophony ceased, and they all disembarked and stretched themselves out.

“Alright,” Eagle said as he popped the hood open, the clunk loud and clear “Sparks, go ahead and get as much juice in the sparkle cell as you can, We’ve got...” he paused as he looked up and sniffed the air, watching the clouds above threaten rain “maybe an hour, or half of one to do this.”

“Got it Eagle.” She said, and she approached the hood and opened it. Propping it open she again detached the clamps and removed the cell, withdrew her tools and went to work again. Eagle, Tato, and Green went to watch the path for anything suspicious, and the only company they had on that mountainside was the whistling air that barreled against the stones.

She looked down at the sparkle cells, clamps on them as she siphoned the power held within, and surprising herself she managed to smile. She remembered Tato’s words of comfort, from earlier that day and yesterday when they stopped for the night, and she managed to smile.

It was a small comfort, perhaps, but enough for her to hold her head up and breathe deeply, calmly. For now, that’s all she needed; a little calm and quiet to think without being... well, she didn’t want to think of that. Not now as she simply worked.

*** *** ***

Around forty-eight minutes later she had managed to drain another three of her sparkle cells into the big one, and she nodded with pleasure to her handiwork. She unclamped the cells and replaced the large one back into it’s compartment, retightened the clamps and stood while packing away her tools. After she had left the chariot and went towards Eagle though, a hellish breeze caught her mane and tail in a frenzy of a sudden.

She gazed into the sky, and with a subtle spinning sensation she saw the dark and ominous cloud layer that stretched from horizon to horizon seemed to be teeming with wrath in her judgment. She hadn’t paid it much attention over the time, and it puzzled her as to what was exactly happening with the swirls and chaotic motions in the atmosphere. A slicing chill ran through her body, and she shivered terribly as her barding seemed to be little more than tissue paper as protection against it.

With an instinctive motion she rubbed a hoof on her sleeves and spoke with a sudden, deeper chill that ran the length of her spine; impairing speech with shudders.

“Wh-what is... oh buck w-what’s going on?” Eagle, who was approaching to ask for an update, shook his thoughts and peered up into the sky when Sparks spoke, and a single drop of water landed with a small crash on is hat's brim. Another, and more in pairs came, until almost all at once a torrential downpour came smashing down with nearly frigid rainwater as Tato and Green scrambled up the road to get out of the freezing rain.

He grinned, grimly with a strange humor that made him look to Sparks as she shook her entire body with a soaked and hanging mane. He shouted to her over the deluge as he approached the chariot in a steady pace, already near soaking wet. “A thunderstorm! I hope you’re done with that battery!”

After he spoke a massive, almost ungoddessly powerful force ripped the sky in two halves with ribbons of blinding neon greenish-white light simply materialized before Sparks’ eyes. It was in her mind subtly beautiful, if not absolutely terrifying to witness, but the roaring report that shook the very ground and heavens of Equus as the resonant and tremulous bellow that followed drowned out all other senses available to them in one sudden and demanding presence.

Sparks, wide eyed and absolutely panicked, mindlessly tried to gallop and panted fiercely as she did in the freshly forming mud around her hooves before the harsh notes of thunder ebbed away into the distance. A massive wave of confusion came crashing down on her mind, much like the sudden rain, as she found difficulty in the most simple thing she could think of; galloping.

The slick mud impeded her stomping and splashing rush and the sheer weight of her now soaking wet barding made her slipping limbs incredibly insufficient at carrying her newfound weight with the momentum. Her eyes, now clogged with water as she tried to gallop back to the chariot, betrayed her as she plowed directly into the side paneling, all but missing a few of the remaining barbs in the steel.

She scrambled to her hooves, her lower body slick with wet and mushy earth, and she tugged on the door of the truck with her hooves as her magic was scared out of her, and finally ripped it open before burying herself inside and slamming the door shut.

Eagle entered the truck shortly after, followed by Tato and Green, and he had to suppress a chuckle as he looked at Sparks’ drenched and mud-caked form. Her eyes wide and pupil’s pinpricks from the terror, and her whole body found difficulty breathing in the constricted enclosure of the chariot. She shook her head repeatedly, slinging water everywhere within the vehicle as she tried to catch her breath and couldn’t speak, could barely breathe, and her whole body trembled from the ferocious display of power as another bolt tore the world apart in the sky above.

She curled onto herself, trying her best to silence the monstrous cacophony as she pressed her mud covered hooves against her ears without concern for their muddied forms. She cursed loudly, without reservation perhaps, for the first time in her life to everyone’s surprise with her sudden outburst. “Great and holy Goddesses!! Oh fuck, oh fuck!! What the-”

Her words choked into an unintelligible jumble of words that lost their volume as a third lightning bolt sundered the sky as if the Goddesses themselves reprimanded her words. She merely squeaked as her body twisted up into a ball, and Eagle chuckled with equally surprising mirth as he gripped the steering bit and started the chariot's engine. The vehicle's once loud and cantankerous rumbles and pops now likened to a mouse’s timid squeaks inSparks’ mind. “Oooh, this is even better than I thought I would be.”

Tato tilted her head with an aghast expression as she spoke in reprimanding tones; she was afraid of lightning a little herself. “Eagle! This isn’t funny!”

Green burst out laughing, and she shook her mane hard slinging water all about the interior and across every creature within. “The fuck it ain’t! Holy shit! I haven’t seen a freak out over weather this bad in forever!”

Green held her belly with her own mud covered hooves as she had full body laughter that nearly out shouted the beating rain that caused a steady and deafening pitter patter on the steel of the chariot, and after a few moments Eagle began to share in the mirth with the only perceptible proof of which being his sporadically bobbing shoulders.

He was trying his best to suppress it, but failing magnificently and chuckled up a storm, and Tato only started laughing herself when the fear of the storm subsided in favor for the sheer hilarity of Green’s painful looking cackles.

Sparks opened her wet eyes, with a mixture of tears and rainwater that made it impossible to tell what really reddened her eyes, and she saw their amusement in mixed perceptions. She wanted to scream at them, tear at them with insults and demand why they took such wicked pleasure in it. Only...

She began to laugh with them, at herself.

It was then, for the one time in her life she did such a thing, and she realized with aching clarity that she was perhaps taking the entire debacle way to seriously. Tato and Green laughing she could excuse or cast aside as expected, but Eagle? She hadn’t seen him crack a single genuine smile or chuckle beyond once or twice, and all instances were short lived and smothered by his callousness. Up until now that old and scarred griffon was a stoic wall of stone, unfeeling, and lacking any mirth she could see.

Even he was laughing at her. The ridiculous display of fear, while it still hammered in her mind as lightning flashed around them, made them all take joyous merriment in it, and it made her terribly self aware of how foolish it must seem to be so wildly afraid of something without much cause beyond fear itself.

This realization made her begin chuckling, slowly but surely, and eventually she joined the jollity with her own cute squeaking laughs. Nothing, not the rain or the storms, not raiders or... anything could strip that from her now, not even The Wasteland itself it felt. With it, they merely laughed away what remaining glee could be given, and in a few pure minutes of separation from the world’s problems they all simply existed in the moment; laughing at each other and a little filly’s fears.

Once they had settled down seeing that Sparks had joined the frivolity, they all adjusted themselves back to what relative comfort they could garner from the seats, and Eagle looked around the cabin with a small smirk on his beak and spoke warmly in low tones.“Everypony good?”

Green spoke up first as she rubbed her aching sides with her hooves. “Oh yeah, yeah I’m good...”

Eagle looked to Tato doing much of the same thing, wiping her eyes with her forelegs. “Yeah, let’s hit it... oh fuck!”

He turned to Sparks who merely nodded with a wide set smile across her lips as she wiped her own eyes and ears trying to get the mud and muck out of them, and Eagle returned the expression as he shifted the chariot into reverse and pulled out of the alcove. Shifting back into drive he peered out of the slated windshield and found that the atrocious rain didn’t hamper visibility much to his surprise.

He shook his head with a dull chuckle and slowly sped ahead into the north again, and with a silent mixture of praise he thanked and cursed Sparks for the laugh. It had been decades since he had laughed like that, and it comforted him and pained him in equal measure.

Footnote: Red Eagle level 21

Sparks level 3

Chapter 12: Pet

Chapter 12: Pet

It was nearly past afternoon into evening by the time they reached the outskirts of Crystal City proper, after four hours and some change’s worth of driving through perhaps the single worst storm that all of them had ever seen before. It simply continued to rain... and rain... and rain relentlessly.

It had been roughly a hundred and fifty miles worth of nothing, according to Sparks’ map on her PipBuck and Eagle’s reckoning, but limited visibility and torrential weather forced Eagle to drive cautiously across seemingly endless stretches of road and land, stopping occasionally and peering about for hazards or drop offs hidden in the storm. He cursed to himself with each rerouting, and began to hate the weather itself as he had never had to deal with such terrible conditions before. The cross winds rocked the chariot about on its wheels making control a difficult feat indeed, and occasionally the wheels themselves would slip out of control.

Grateful to be out of the chariot, as they all were, he stared out to the deluge filtered city ahead. His eyes traced the obscured forms of buildings whose outlines were cast harshly in vivid greenish-white contrasts from occasional distant lightning that he swore seemed to be concentrated over the city.

He turned to Green as she readied herself to go on, and he yelled so she could hear him over the storm, his voice deeply resonant and gravelly. “You still sure about this!?”

“Yeah!” was all she said as she turned around, standing naked save for the saddlebags she pulled off the griffons to carry supplies with her and the double barreled shotgun slung across her chest.

Eagle shook his head as rainwater poured from his coat and hat, the storm was too intense for him, not from fear of the rain itself, but it felt almost... driven. Commanded by some superior force or something like it, and the thought sent subtle imperceptible shivers down his spine as he wondered what was actually causing this level of storm.

He had heard once that long ago the pegasi had commanded the weather, made it rain only as needed and kept the skies fairly clear and controlled for all intents and purposes. He feared silently that maybe this lightning storm was the Enclave’s doing, or some other group that would have an obscene amount of pegasi to elicit such a spectacular tempest. His fears weren’t helped at all by the radio’s garbling on Sparks’ PipBuck due to the squall; a development that even she was surprised at.

No information on where it came from or what caused such a terrible storm, and no clue what to think of it beyond absolutely terror inducing conclusions like a pegasi invasion, or ‘relief effort’ as they’d paint it, were present to ease his worries.

He looked back at Green as she started to trot off to the west, towards Good Neighbor, and he shouted again as he buried his worries. “Suit yourself! Remember, five or six days west! A hundred plus miles to the Galloping Gorge!”

“I got it! Don’t go soft on me now!” She shouted back before she all but disappeared into the wall of rainwater like a ghost. With it Eagle turned his eyes back up to the havoc in the sky with an expression of apprehension, shaking his head as he tried to bury his concerns before he turned back to Sparks who vigorously scrubbed the matted mud and muck from her barding and coat; a decent progress towards cleanliness.

Close to, rather, as the broken road offered some protection against the lakes of mud that formed around them, but not completely as pools formed in nearly every seen inch of the asphalt. Tato had already done the same and finished quite quickly. With the absolute downpour of rain it was a prime time for a shower to finish what they had started a few days ago in earnest, even though the rain was cold as ice it felt.

Eagle approached the chariot as his boots and gloves squelched noisily beneath him in the growing mud puddles and sighed before he half shouted over the storm. He was worried, and it was apparent to both Tato and Sparks who met their eyes with his. “Alright, I don’t know why this storm is going on and on like this, or why it’s covering most of the damn region, but that isn’t going to stop us! Don’t know if it’s... eh, ‘wise’, exactly to drive up to the City in an unmarked chariot! Not like creatures respond to white flags anymore, nevermind that it’d be a bitch to see one anyway in all this shit!”

He gestured a talon about the waterlogged air around him as he scowled slightly. “Crystal City, I’m willing to bet, has enough firepower to waste us before we can call them off! So we’re parking it here, try to hide it among the other wrecks! That might let us get back to it later! Might take half an hour to trot the rest of the way! Any objections?!”

Tato shook her head with a shrug, the plan was sound to her. Sparks was still scrubbing her ears with a vengeance, the infernal mud and muck seemingly impossible to wash away, when she thought it over and figured he was right.

The chariot, despite the fact they had stripped much of the twisted barbed metal wire and plates off of it to reduce weight, still looked rather wicked. She would rather believe that a city of ponies would ask who they were first, but the crash course education in Wasteland policies dictated a ‘shoot first’ mentality she despised.

She shrugged before she spoke up above the tempest, her voice cracking slightly from strain. “Well, I don’t know if we really do have much choice Eagle! If you’re sure they’d blow up random strangers!”

Eagle grimaced, and explained why they would, given the circumstances. “This is the perfect weather for an ambush, Sparks! Good visual and noise cover, the City’s probably on high alert as it is!” he shook his head as he wondered if he should speak his mind, and opted not to, simply thinking it to himself.

‘If I had to attack, now's the time’. The idea brought back his worries, and concern pressed his thoughts as to if the City would be under attack now. They wouldn’t be able to hear the fight from their position, and they wouldn’t until they were within the city limits. Then more than likely it would be too late to escape the battle; assuming there was one at all.

Eagle scratched his scarred beak with a talon as he wondered if he was just being paranoid, but he felt some growing concern in the back of his head. His instincts were trying to tell him something, and every fiber of his being warned him against... whatever he couldn’t see. He sighed again; shelving the issue and a mental resounding ‘fuck it’ graced his mind once again. ‘Deal with it as it comes’, and with that he adjusted the harness to fit more comfortably. “Alright, let’s move! The sooner we get to town the better!”

Tato started to trot up to Eagle as he turned to leave, and Sparks gave herself a vigorous but ineffectual shake of her body trying to lose at least some water from her heavy barding, and whatever progress it made was immediately replaced with the deluge. She looked up to the sky with a subtle hate, and groaned wordlessly as she began trotting up to the rear of the group as her hooves slipped and squelched in the deepening muddy pools.

*** *** ***

The view of the city as it grew in their vision in both clarity and size made Sparkssubtly marvel at its grandeur. She had seen large groups of buildings once, of course, but the strange half charred silvery towers that all but scraped the sky above as they reflected the vividly hued, greenish white lightning that tore the air around them made her eyes wander in bafflement.

It seemed almost... divine, of sorts, like a once grand city that held the best of the old world; only now reduced to a crumbling and burnt ruin that served no greater purpose than to be a headstone to all that was once pure and good in the world.

Despite it though, the massive structures held no apprehension in her thoughts, like the towering emerald grave of Hoofington’s ebony sky scrapers, which after her short briefing on the city before she left her Stable did enough to weave a certain supernatural fear of it before laying eyes on it's wicked structures. This city though, Crystal City as she knew it, was almost... serene; save for the torrential storm, of course.

Eagle led them past the outermost structures and into the semi shelter of the alleyways that acted as echo chambers for the rumbling thunder that dominated the sky as rain poured in barrels, and after a short time of walking and wading past the waterlogged ruins of the city a single great and terrible lightning bolt struck one of the tallest buildings in the urban grave. The sound was terrifying, unimaginably loud and terrible in such a degree that even Eagle recoiled from the sudden strike.

He quickly regained composure though and shook his head. “Fuckin’! ah, shit...”

Sparks looked about how he felt; her legs turned to jelly as she stood wide eyed, pupils locked on the building above that had taken the wrath of heaven itself. Pieces like small rocks and pebbles flew down in scattered debris all around them, creating great splashes in the huge pools of water above their ankles. The deep water made it difficult to pass through the ruins, but the worst of it was the constant concern that a stray bolt would fry them so fast they wouldn’t be alive long enough to realize they were dead.

The problem was, after a sudden intrusion... a presence of sorts... in all their minds the fear of lightning gave way to far more primal fears than a mere storm.

They couldn’t discern what this sudden... whisper in the backs of their minds said, if anything at all, but Eagle took the sudden intrusion with immense alarm as he darted his eyes back to Sparks and Tato, shouting above the torrential winds and rain. “Did any of you say anything!?”

Tato shook her head a mixture of fear and confusion, and Sparks matched the expression as she picked at her ears with a hoof and wondered if her hearing was playing tricks with her. She spoke warily as she half shouted over the storm. “I didn’t say anything! Did you... you heard that too?”

Eagle tensed up in such a fashion she hadn’t seen before, and Eagle's silence made her feel far more fearful without foreseeable reason. He eventually spoke though, half shouting. “We need to be careful here! It...”

“Eagle!? What’s wrong!?” Sparks said, but he turned around as his head darted around looking for a faster path to the main gate of Crystal City proper. He shook his head hard and turned back to them. Every instinct of his now flared that the City was under attack, but by what was the question.

“I don’t know! We need to move!!” Sparks looked from Eagle to Tato, and they both shared fear in their faces, but neither could voice their concerns before Eagle charged off, deeper into the city.

Through an alley he all but disappeared before Sparks or Tato could follow him. Their minds were wracked by his sudden galloping rush, and did their best to match it, albeit failing only just. Alleyway after alleyway their legs carried them from lakes to bare patches of asphalt, then back to lakes as the storm thundered above. Paranoia gripped all their minds however, and the fear of the unknown, like an ancient, primal barb of tribal origin snagged the backs of their minds.

As their mad charge brought them closer and closer to the Crystal City horse hockey stadium, the subtle whisper in the back of her mind grew and grew into a fully intelligible roar, and Eagle, Tato, and Sparks all recoiled from the complete feeling of violation. The roar was spoken like a low whisper as if inches from their ears, and it bore a wickedly malicious, and oddly sensual manner, of speech. Like a promise of ecstasy veiled in a cloak of blood and terror.

‘Come on... my little... Pooonnnieesss... We are kind and merciful...!’

‘We promise it won’t hurt...’

‘Too much for some...!’

*** *** ***

They came to a stop near the main gate of the Crystal City stadium, and the massive green and welded steel wall was still shut. It confused Eagle, not nearly as much as the invasion of his mind, but it still perplexed. If the gate was sealed, then it had to be fliers that were doing this, or at least creatures with flying machines he grimly speculated, but before he could finish his own thoughts a piercing emotion dug into his head as he shook it vigorously trying to shake the influence.

The emotion was like a dark and wicked pleasure.

A grimly feminine laughter echoed harshly in all their minds that felt like claws on a chalkboard, or a barbed nail scratching and snagging on the backs of their skulls. The sensation was incredibly uncomfortable for all of them, and the blaring words slithered through their heads like slimy snakes or worms and caused panic in Sparks and Tato.

Eagle shook his head hard trying to shake the feeling and he shouted at his companions. “Hey! Stay with me, don’t let... don’t let it get into your head!”

Tato was visibly squirming from the attempt, her body writhing and convulsing as she shook her head with the psychic pressure pushing against her. “It’s... oh fuck, I... I can’t!”

She groaned as she fought, making an effort to eject them from her thoughts, but to no avail. Sparks, however, seemed to be taking it the nowhere near as difficult as her thoughts wandered in curiosity about what these voices belonged to. They caused her duress that was visible in her jerking shakes, like the voices were whispering in her ears right beside her as they went from her left to right, then left again speaking in their outlandish voices.

‘We are the Great... and Powerful... We... are The Goddess, children...’

A single thought of Sparks’ echoed in her mind alongside their words, and she wasn’t sure if it was her own question or the voice's. A sudden feeling of delight wreathed in immense agitation washed over her, and an involuntary smile began to grow on her lips before she shook the urge. The voices spoke again in phasing shifts, as if they were moving around her within licking distance.

‘Aahh... Who...?’ The voices burst into smaller whispers, more distant and abruptly as if a hundreds of voices spoke at once. ‘Who is the- How could she- But the Goddess is- Who is this fi- We’ve never heard her voi-’

The small avalanche of murmurs ebbed away to form again the joined voice, the tones and words sounding conjoined or compounded of hundreds, if not thousands, of smaller voices into a great and terrible united one. Yet its voice seemed to be dominated by one among them, as the voices spoke to match it and oozed like poisoned honey clinging to every inch of their minds.

‘We... are The Unity... the Great... and Powerful... Goddess...’

‘The saviors of ponyki- We are your salvati- We bring life- life to this dead worl-’

‘We bring Unity... We... bring life...!’

The voices all cackled fiercely in maddened frenzy, now seemingly innumerable voices collected together to giggle like children, and they were all overshadowed by the gaudy laughter of the collective. The sickening demented glee smothered their minds, and the One, this ‘Goddess’ voice, spoke again in the disembodied tones of many as a feeling of pity or remorse washed over them.

‘You... you fear Us...? Why...? Why do so many of these... these...’ a feeling of immense hatred and disgust blossomed like a flame that twisted up inside, but it dissipated with a flash as contentment like a sickly mother's sweaty hooves as the One voice cumulated again in chorus. ‘We only offer salvation... And a life free of fear from the horrors of a bygone age...’

Eagle cursed under his breath as he shook his head again, trying to shake the haze from his mind. He turned to Sparks who seemed almost as if in a trance, and he shook her hard to break her of the haze cast over them. “Come on Sparks! Fight it!”

The voices brought an unsettling mirth to their laughter, and the jarring motion brought Sparks back to lucidity as she peered about in a miasma. She spoke lowly and weakly, but the voices recoiled nonetheless. “Get- Get out of my... my head!”

She groaned as she smacked her skull with a hoof as if they would be thrown from her, and while the speechless pain the voices exhibited wasn’t akin to the physical, it felt more like an emotional injury that resounded through their words.

‘Pitiful litt- Why do they alw- The audaci-’

A flood of anger filled her senses as she struggled against them. This... voice spoke of itself like a Goddess, but their emotions and rage and their strange, twisted feelings that emanated from their thoughts flew in the face of what she thought the Goddesses were like.

They felt... angry, tormented in flashes, but all that pain was washed away like blood in a river’s tide when the One spoke again. The emotions were replaced by subtle whispers of compassion, like a massaging gesture that reaffirmed themselves constantly. Any and all confliction was momentary, and all doubts were smothered instantly.

This is what it felt like for Eagle, Sparks, and Tato in a blizzard of feelings, but it passed in mere seconds, if even, and gave way to a subtle, manic purring in their ears as the One spoke.

‘Perhaps... perhaps they need...’

‘Demonstrations...!’

All the voices came together, wicked in intent with a vicious whisper that hung in their minds, and a sudden flash of lightning blazed through the sky as a sudden void of sound fell on them. Relief washed over the three of them as the presence fell silent, and Eagle shook his head hard and flexed within his barding. “Fuck me running, what the fuck is doing this shit!”

Sparks screwed her face up as she rubbed her temples with her hooves, and she shot Eagle an expression that she knew that already from just the strange mind-speech they wielded. “Yeah... but, what are we going to do?”

Eagle scoffed, but he shook his head again throwing the ebbing feeling out of his head. He scowled around them, his eyes wide and his practiced cautions scanning the area, as if he was put in the distressing position of the hunted. Whatever this, or these, things were his mind only knew one thing; it could not be hunted.

He could only survive it.

“Alright Sparks... Listen, and listen good. I haven’t any fucking idea what’s causing this head trip shit but whatever it is it won’t be easy to beat!” He sighed deeply, and shook his head of the lingering ache it had. “I’m... I’ve been wondering what caused this damn storm for a while now, and what I first feared obviously isn’t the case. No way the Enclave has this type of weapon, and they would be preaching with it regardless! This is something new!”

Sparks looked around them with a newfound fear of the storm. It had already felt... weird to her, but now it was one thing above all else; unnatural, just as much as the voices were.

Confusion washed over her as she wondered how... whatever they were could command the very sky like this. She had heard of the stories, from before The War of how pegasi controlled the weather, but that was for the betterment of Ponykind in this.... great cooperative cycle as pegasi, unicorn, and earth ponies working together.

This? This wasn’t for any benefit, neither solace nor compassion were behind this storm.

“How... how could anything make a storm... this bad!?” Tato had asked, and Sparks’ expression shared the curiosity as she watched high above them as the tempest seemed to almost swirl above them. She swore she saw... patterns in the ribbons of cloud, like they were designed or intended. The center of the spiral seemed to hang above the city’s center as she trailed her eyes around them.

“I don’t know, I’d guess a severe amount of magic but that’s a wild guess! Griffons know shit about magic!” Eagle answered, albeit clearly displaying concern as to that very question. He looked to Sparks and caught her attention with a talon and she snapped her wide and fearful eyes to Eagle’s. “You know anything that could do this? Any unicorn insight at all?!”

She screwed her face up and tried to think of what could cause such magical power, but came up all but empty in the sheer weight of the effect if it was indeed a spell. She thought hard and dug deep for an answer, any answer, but the only thing she could give felt weakly incompetent.

“Well... I know several unicorns can cast a spell in tandem to... well, make the spell easier to cast, even boost the effect maybe. Dual-castings aren’t too uncommon for us, but I don’t...” She shook her head and threw a hoof into the air gesturing to the torrential sky above. “I don’t know of any unicorn -alive or dead- that could ever do THAT! I might take a few dozen -if not more- to get these results!”

Eagle’s expression gained a visible scowl that made him dread stepping another talon further into the city. “I hate it, but we’re going in blind!”

He put a talon on his revolver with hesitance in his motions, and groaned as he pulled his talon away from the pistol's handle and flipped a lever on his battle saddle with a subtle click in the mechanism. He stretched again, and grumbled under his breath, a battle haze forming over his vision as he prepared to fight something he could imagine. “Let’s go, we need to cut these fucks short before they get too dug in; whatever they are!”

Tato and Sparks brought themselves to their hooves as the intense pitter patter of rain hammered on, and the sky tore itself apart repeatedly by lightning strikes. They all felt terribly under prepared for a threat like this. They only knew the fear, and the echoing presence of the voices in their heads.

*** *** ***

It took some effort, but the trio managed to find an opening large enough to slip intoCrystal City proper. Eagle silently cursed their paranoia that, in any other scenario, would be a premium for defense. Now it only served to hamper his abilities to get inside to keep the town alive.

With every step from him, Tato, and Sparks in the growing lake that sloshed and splashed, he felt eyes on his back. The entire city itself felt... held in suspense, like the ghosts from every tragedy that befell this growing grave mound from those who drowned in balefire a century prior, to the raider massacre that he himself had orchestrated in his past, and all other unfortunates who breathed their last in the enclosure of buildings watched him and all present with awe and hushed whispers.

This... supernatural sensation bothered Eagle greatly. It equaled the intrusion of voices in almost every detail save for one. There was no voice in his head, no feelings of ichor and pitch oozing through his mind, only subtle sensations that he couldn’t place just beyond the edges of his sharpened senses. It set him on edge, lending a tension to his movements that took all his self control to overcome as he prowled through the city, and now the town itself that seemed oddly bereft of ponies.

‘Were they indoors or corralled somewhere?’ he questioned silently as his sharp and piercing eyes scanned the ramshackle huts and spot welded shacks through the heavy deluge.

No living soul was in sight, and it gave him mixed feelings as to the numerous possibilities. He went through each detail in scrutiny as he thought in mechanical speed as he deduced the situation.

Too few scattered bodies, but far more than he was comfortable with. Hidden? Maybe, if whatever hunted them wasn’t capable of just knowing their location. He though that it probably wasn’t a matter of finding, more like reaching if they had barricaded themselves somewhere.

Nothing in sight alive again. Gone or prowling for the townsfolk? No... they were still here, as the signs had proven. They were either moping up, or had already finished. Now they hunted for sport, or were preoccupied.

No signs of serious battle. Little blood or broken buildings, or casings and spent microspark batteries from rifles and pistols that he could see that would suggest a vicious fight that would ensue from fending off whatever would threaten an entire town.

All signs suggested the worst. A majority of the inhabitants were either bunkered down, or were already captured or... or worse.

The final hanging thought sent shivers through his spine as the idea of psychic torture or... whatever could be inflicted by this paranormal threat. He forcibly composed himself for just such a situation as Sparks and Tato held their own counsel, and with it that same, cruelly sensual voice whispered in the back of their minds again, switching from ear to ear in their mental hearing.

‘Aaah... It’s a shame We has no place for... griffon kind... We could benefit from you... If only We were... compaaatible... ’

Eagle looked about him in a cautious, but hectic frenzy as he forced himself to not ruminate on their words. They might have been telepathic -in the most uncomfortable and terrible way imaginable - and wondered if these things could simply foresee details about a creature from such a link.

He scowled deeper, as it meant either they didn’t need to see them, or were actively watching them. He scanned about for signs of anything he could remotely see, and couldn’t see any details that jumped out at him, and he peered around the roofs and numerous places about where enemies could roost before they pounced. With no luck in that regard either he grumbled as it felt like the most dangerous game of cat and mouse he had ever played.

‘You... don’t know Us...? You shaaall... before long...’

Sparks looked up to Eagle who maintained his distant piercing gaze about the park’s massive oval shaped form, and she wondered what these voices belonged to, truly.

‘We have said... Little pooony... time and tiiiime again...’ the voices seemed to inject sadness and disappointment ‘We are the Goddess... and you shall know our quest to save before long... ’

Eagle interrupted the voice, speaking aloud and rage edging his deep and gravelly voice, and he kept his composure just barely as he lashed out. “Why don’t you come down here and show yourselves!! If you truly are here to help then why hide behind hellish storms in a deserted town of perfectly peaceable ponies!!”

‘We... neeeeed them... to saaaave them...’

“I’m willing to bet you’ve simply killed them all, didn’t you!! Where are they, what have you done!!” the voice seemed to sound... injured by Eagle’s rage filled shouts, as the imperious tones fell away to ones of pleading, of desperation for gratification.

‘Nothing yet... but sooooon... not soon enough... they will be within our care and grace... Ponykind in a... peeeerfect unity against these... Wastelands...’

“You call all this salvation!? We’ve all had nightmares more pleasant than this!!” he thrust a talon at a guard, who lay dead on the ground; craters of burnt flesh in his chest. “You surely don’t mean this helps ponies, or any creatures out of this hell!! Do you!!”

Silence graced their minds again as the voice fell quiet. Eagle had tried something against them on a whim, and their nearly physical recoil in their minds told Eagle it had worked. Powerful emotions clogged their telepathic link it seemed. Hatred and rage he had bet would be like some sort of flash bang grenade against them. It worked, if only a little, and with a wicked grin he pulled to bear the nastiest of his histories, the terrors he had witnessed and inflicted, and the presence recoiled even harder so much that it cause a subtle discomfort in their minds.

“You want to read my mind... pick out strategies and tactics with which to end me... but believe me when I say you won’t find anything but demons!!” He drew his knife with a twirling brandish as he peered around slowly, his vision becoming a red haze through the curtain of rainwater that hid his newfound quarry.

Sparks and Tato both looked at him, his form becoming... insidious, evil even by Sparks’ judgment; the wide and wicked grin that crossed his beak was a smile she had never seen before worn by anypony -or creature- she had ever met. It was unsettling to her core.

Before she could think further on it though the voice came back in full force, and its simple declaration tore at their very souls it seemed as the overpressure enveloped their senses like a raging tsunami of emotion. It was voiced by innumerable voices simultaneously as the One.

‘Veeeery well...! Let us plaaaay...!’

The firefight began shortly thereafter, as massive magic beams of sickly green missiles tore from several highly placed spots all around the stadium's radius. There were three total shots of that radiantly terrible magic that pierced their senses, but not their hides as Eagle pounced practically the moment they formed, throwing Sparks and Tato behind the cover of nearby shacks. The shots of magic plowed with a terrible crack and electric greenish sparks formed in their wake, leaving small concussive blasts in which rainwater splashed in massive displays that refracted the deathly magic they cast in dazzling lights.

Eagle pounced equally fast to his fours with a wing beat that sent him barreling on, leaving Sparks and Tato in the mud and muck, but out of sight of the surely lethal magic of the attackers. Sparks lifted herself up and, despite the aching feeling that filled her limbs and the sensation of dread and terror that the voices fostered, she shook off the mud as best she could before turning to follow him.

Tato stopped her with a filthy mud covered hoof though, and spoke in massive volumes of fear that cracked her voice as she spoke in nearly whispers below the rain and noise of beginning battle. “Wait!! No Sparks, t-they’ll kill you!!”

The look of complete fear on Tato’s mud caked features gave her momentary pause, but she girded her courage to follow Eagle. He would need all the help he could get, and while she abhorred violence and wasn’t a great fighter she had to help... somehow.

Besides, if what Eagle said had any kernel of truth, than this... ‘Goddess’ had wicked plans for this town, and as she looked around there must have been ponies by the score living here, if not a hundred or more. All of this life, and their fates seemed to hang in the balance, dependant on what would happen in the next quarter hour at most.

The thought sent shivers down her spine as she felt the weight of it, and she shook her head as she tried to convince Tato to let her leave. “If I don’t try he’ll get killed, then we’re all screwed! Stay down Tato, try to keep hidden alright!?

Tato's lips quivered as her face contorted fiercely in terror with the continued barrage of those green blasts of energy, but she nodded dully and all but buried herself in the pool of muck around her in an ineffective attempt at camouflage.

Sparks turned away and worked her way from the muddied pool and took a short breath as she tried to gird herself for this; for battle. All of what she had heard so far, and so fast left no time for contemplation. Her own thoughts made her think of these creatures as monsters and a deponized threat; it seemed to ease her concerns for violence, like squashing insects.

She felt... able to raise herself in defense of herself and her friends, not to mention the town itself, against monsters with a fraction of the hesitance in her convictions. It still felt... bad though, as she hated violence was the only answer. ‘Lesser evils’ and all... Let these things have their way, or deny them with war. The thought turned her stomach, but she felt the sensation there wasn’t a choice in the matter.

She recounted Eagle's words to her about being hidden, keeping hidden rather, as she felt it was the only method she could remotely use to survive this; staying out of sight, keeping volume down and controlling her breathing, keeping calm. The last one proved to be the hardest as she found herself quaking in her barding at the realization she was to fight, especially when she saw more of the magical bolts they flung, and were flinging around the town as resounding zaps and cracks emanated between the tempest's lighting strikes; their reports ringing in her ears.

She looked around the shacks and saw as the lightning strikes illuminated all the terrain about, and their harsh contrasts were carved in that terrible greenish white lightning with bright, deathly green magic bolts blazing in reflective surfaces through their lengths as they were hurled at targets but finding none. The gears in Sparks’ head began to turn as she remembered what Eagle had said outside of the city.

‘Perfect weather for an attack’ is what resonated in her head, and with a grim sensation coursing through her she agreed.

She shook the thought and made her sloshing and splashing way down into the buildings below, and found the small cover of one of the many shacks that gathered in ripples around the main gate; all the while tapping the button on her PipBuck for S.A.T.S.. She hoped it would register targets for her in this chaos as she felt this unfamiliar sensation, a paranoia that she knew was very real, like she was being stalked by a waking nightmare. She couldn’t fight them if she couldn’t see them, and the more she thought about it the more she felt like her own thoughts were being screened.

Once her S.A.T.S. registered a target, but it vanished as soon as it appeared showing single digits becoming zeros for hit chances, and it gave her more and more anxiety as her heart rate hammered in her ears. Her limbs shook and could barely hold her own weight, but she did her best to gird herself against the fear. Eagle needed her -the town needed her- to be strong.

The voice came back as it whispered and slithered its way through her mind like oily snakes, and presumably the rest of anypony in range of their telepathy.

‘Why fight Us... Little Pony? We only wish to... Saaaaave you... from this place...’

She shook her head hard and thought to herself, keeping her own voice firmly quiet in a sudden instinct that told her not to speak, like hostile ears were nearby.

‘Because I heard what Eagle said, you... you only hurt others!’

‘We... do not hurt anypooony, Little Pooony... We only bring aaall in our care... the salvation... everypony so desires...’ the voice chuckled grimly as the One devolved into thousands of snickering and cackling voices before it came back to the One, and it sighed with a hint of derangement it its words. ‘Besides... We do not force anypooony... to join us... We only... convince them...’

As the voice continued, a barrage of magic and gunfire burst from somewhere within the ball park, it was smothered by lightning strikes as the greenish white lightning tore away almost all sound around.

‘We... do not force anyone... to do anything... Little Pony...’ the voice silenced of a sudden, and a painful and mind wracking feeling of anger surged through the sensations in her head that brought her hoofsteps to a halt. She held her head in pain as it roared.

‘We try to save...!! We only wish... To help!! Become like Us... like We are and you shall thrive!!’ Sparks shook her head hard, and thought back at the Alicorns in a smugness bearing a question for them.

‘Then where are the townsponies, Huh? An entire town of peaceful, contented ponies, gone! You can’t tell me that they're all gone under ‘peaceful’ pretenses!’

‘How... How dare you!’ the voices anger lashed out as magical bolts of their emerald death blasted areas around her, all but missing her as she galloped away from their impacts finding deeper cover as she continuously tapped her S.A.T.S., searching intently for them but as always finding nothing. ‘Do not think the Goddess is cruel!! We saved all out sisters to the last!!’

In the voice’s anger it seemed that some creature became brave enough to reveal themself, and the form that loomed over the stadium in a shimmering, off color azure bubble around her majestically terrifying form was just so. Sparks’ continual S.A.T.S. activations registered a... winged unicorn. She reeled at the sight, and it was only the repeated button presses that allowed her to lock on its form, and all the minute details slowed to a crawl giving her more than enough time to take in the sight.

The bubble that enveloped her shimmered and illuminated her large and abyssal, ebon green form against the torrential sky, and her huge and almost wicked wings held her aloft as her burning, deep emerald eyes with slits for pupils, like a serpent’s, beamed around the terrain below her. She was crowned by a long and flowing mane and tail, nearly black as its dark and sinister green hue only seen in the reflections of her shield and magic, and her long glowing horn was wreathed in the same hue of blazing emerald.

At first, Sparks was held aghast at the being, and she had to do a double take gazing at the beautiful and terrible form as it hung in the sky with lightning surrounding it; creating awesome wreaths framing it in her mind like a cherry-on-top for her fear. The only times she ever saw any winged unicorns was in history class or posters that riddled her Stable, and those were the forms of the princesses of old; Luna and Celestia, the deified protectors of equinity in the world after fire.

She had to remember what these things were as she admired them subtly, but the feeling of despair held far more power over her as she froze in place when, even in the speed enhanced S.A.T.S., she felt the psychic pressure on her mind; the oozing ichor feeling turning to sharp and sour notes whose baritone beats formed plateaus and valleys with entire seconds between them.

The winged unicorn's eyes turned to her of a sudden, and a magical beam lashed out from her horn in slow motion, materializing in emerald wisps and sparks that trailed from her horn’s base to the tip along the spirals forming one massive bolt that lanced the very air. The fat droplets of rainwater that hung in the space around her, refracting the lights from her azureous shield and the emerald magic that spiraled her horn, all exploded in splatters at the magic’s presence, but a singular detail that Sparks saw was what she hung on most of all.

She had seen shield spells before with her work at home, with the Enclave’s technology, but what she knew was that shielding couldn’t allow projectiles to pass through it, as one would assume of how shields were obviously supposed to work. The shield she had seemed to be no different as a small port or hole opened in the wake of her magical attacks, and when it opened the zeros on her hit chance for the head, chest, and wings interfaces rose in numbers. What little they were, barely above fifteens at this range at least, still told her it was possible to at least hit them; albeit in fractions of seconds.

She didn’t have long to linger though as the blazing emerald bolt speared the air between them, and even in the affects of S.A.T.S she had barely enough time to throw herself to the side to dodge the shot. The air beside her blazed hot for what felt like half a second in the crawling time, and the heat subtly electrified her hide as her mane frazzled from the sensation. The resounding zap and crack of the report and impact lingered until S.A.T.S. wore off, and after regaining her senses in real time she galloped off deeper into the muddied pools that blanketed the alleyways between the rippling lines of shacks.

She heard the pursuit of the winged unicorn as the firefight continued as background noise smothered by thunder and her own labored breaths as she bolted this way and that through the alleyways, trying to lose pursuit. She found such a hole to dive in and found herself inside one of the shacks that looked more of a haphazardly welded and riveted factory than a home as a stained and sodden mattress and other Wastelandic furnishings bobbed on the surface of the filthy water. The violent ripples she made rocked them about in her wake as she delved deeper searching for the break she needed. When she found none she panicked as she heard a violent splash from beyond the home’s door.

Finding no other choice than to hide, as she was certain that one shot from it’s magic would be enough to end her, she gasped deeply and threw herself into the murky mud filled water reflexively. She heard her hammering heart rate below the murky water, as well as the now distant and muted storm and battle beyond that were reduced to nearly mere concussive forces, and she held her breath with all the willpower she could muster as the black and shadowed water enveloped her.

Shortly afterwards her eyes saw a sort of glow, azure in hue, as her slammed shut eyelids brightened slightly from the presence of the creature’s shield.

In the murky, near silent depths her mind felt the presence of the voice again -the One- as it spoke to her in the same oozing ichor sensation like sharpened nails scratching the inside of her skull. The voice emanated, almost echoing in the near silence, as the distant thunder and blasts of battle seemed to only be swept aside to subliminal noises as the voice took over her sense of hearing.

‘Come on now... my Little Pony... no need to hide from Us...' Sparks felt a sensation akin to a mother's laughter at a child; laughter like a demented mixture of affection and accusation of foolishness. 'We only desiiiireee... to save...’

Sparks kept her eyes shut firm, and tried her best to calm herself as panic wanted her to leap from the water and flee. She was sure though it would only end in her death... or worse she feared. She didn’t want to become like them, tearing apart towns and villages to ‘save’ them, and she slowly but surely brought herself to complete stillness below the water with only the muffled explosions and that sickly, ungoddessly voice as her companions in the murky resonance of the water.

‘We... only wish to help you...’

The voice felt ever more like a sickening plea, and slithered through her in a fashion that made her irk and twitch as it spoke. She thought to herself, albeit unintentionally as she knew it could hear her thoughts.

‘I want nothing you have to offer, neither does anypony here I’d wager!’ The same recoiling feeling snagged again, only short lived as the voice regained composure quickly and spoke again, echoing in her mind’s ears.

‘Why not...? Who are you to refuse Our gift...? Our gift...? A life... free of pain or hurt...' The voice emanated in the murky resonance, and a sensation of twisted compassion smothered Sparks’ mind as it continued.

'You cannot tell me that all... in these... ‘Wastes’... wouldn’t desire release...An existence where we could bask in magical radiation and not die... an existence where none of the land's monsters could destroy you... an existence where no matter where you are... no matter how much you hurt...’

The voice devolved again into the hundreds as they shifted between her ears, trying to comfort her and convince her of their truth as if unaware of the fact their passage was a violation of her mind.

‘We will be ther- To hold yo- To kiss your che- We will keep you saf- We will give you compan- We will support yo-’

They merged again to the One, and spoke in unison with a reverberating declaration, easy and soft but rattling her to her core like a dragon’s rumbling whispers.

‘We... and Our harmony... will keep you in Our warm embrace...’

Sparks felt a subtle smile, like that of a loving mother spread across her cheeks, and a warmth that enveloped her as emotions of compassion and pleasure heated her in the frigid water. She wasn’t entirely sure if these feelings were born of her own doing, or implanted by this voice, but it was all she could do to not take the offer.

Their words... felt genuine, if not just firmly believed by them. They did care, in some way she supposed, but she wondered for a moment if it was simply their self taught lies to excuse their heinous actions. It was then she remembered her conversation with Eagle, merely yesterday before they wiped out the raider fiends, and her question to him reverberated throughout her to the voices sudden sorrow.

‘The end... justifies the means...?’ it said, with a heavy blanket of grief washing over it and her, and the hundreds of voices that formed the One began to mutter to each other in whispers Sparks couldn’t discern or follow, only an underlying feeling of pain was recognizable amongst the sadness. It only lasted a few seconds before a surge of madness rushed forth again in the voice, and all the disembodied whispering came crashing back to the One, terrible and rumbling like the thunder above.

‘No!! We will not be tricked like this!!’ With a sudden explosion that beat the water around her; the concussive force enveloping her whole form. The water thrashed and rocked her about as it threw her from the water's protection.

As she flew through the air her eyes wrenched open as she saw for only a moment that the shack had exploded in a shower or shrapnel and flame, and with an instinctual activation of her S.A.T.S. she dropped into the microseconds of time again, watching as the rapidly forming fireballs from some explosive slowed to a crawl in dazzling bright orange and white blotched spheres with blackened ochre plumes within them.

She saw Eagle, smothered in watery blood that streaked from him as a rage blazed in his eyes. He dived gracefully through the stagnate debris, paused in their twirls as they scattered. The winged unicorn was turning to face him, her shimmering azure shield rippling as it dissipated in a few spots like it had been shaken through either immense force or surprise.

Either possibility didn’t last long in Sparks’ thoughts as it’s horn charged with that deathly green magic, aimed at Eagle as he slowly flew inside the now half destroyed shack. Sparks had to gird herself again in the S.A.T.S.’ slowed time as she hoisted her laser pistol to bear with her telekinesis, aiming the weapon at its head with a hit chance shifting between seventy and sixty eight as she turned about with menace in her eyes. The water splashed violently about them, refracting her magical aura as it illuminated her sinister features like some demonic statue of everything that could be evil in ponies ponified.

She confirmed three attacks and saw with painful clarity as the first neon red laser beam of her pistol’s spell landed squarely on the Alicorn’s temple, the abyssal green flesh being blasted off in smoking chunks as she smelt the ozone emanating across her nostrils as the second shot landed on its horn. The bright and near blinding red beam mixed with the equally vivid green aura of her horn creating a vibrant amber yellow hue that shone like a beacon, emanating from growing cracks along the impact’s center.

The strike dissipated its shield as Sparks watched the azure magic all but fizzed out of existence, trailing away to frenzied lines around her in a rough spherical shape like lightning bolts. Most importantly the emerald aura around the spirals of her horn flashed out of reality, and it left an immensely surprised and agonized expression that grew slowly across its face as Eagle's dive had borne fruit. He came down below it into the water’s crater that leisurely refilled from the detonation and her dissipated shield.

She watched as Eagle’s knife buried itself into the creature’s belly and, with a tearing pull of his talon he drew the blade with a silvery red flash across it trailing ribbons of ebon blood and scraps of flesh through the air in a violent dragging motion. The short motion brought it down to the ground into the water below, and they all but disappeared into the murky waters.

Sparks canceled the third shot on her queue, and as time reasserted itself the flames of the explosions and the shredded shrapnel of the shack gradually threw themselves against the surrounding terrain in bursts of bright orange light and peppering impacts. Sparks and the winged unicorn both where submerged in immense sensations of agonizing pain, and surprise dashed across it all. Sparks couldn’t tell if the pain was hers, or the winged unicorn’s through their telepathy, but between the seconds that passed as time came to full speed she crashed against the far wall of the shack, and a torrential wave of muddied water plowed into her, beating the air from her lungs.

She tried to fight the current to no avail, and only found shelter from it once the wave had bounced off the wall and settled back down to ground level were it sloshed and tore at itself in a frenzy of physics made chaotic further by the settling pieces and chunks of the shack that fell from the explosion. She shook the streaming water from her head and made an attempt to stand as she saw Eagle thrashing in the water with his knife, drawing back shimmering black rivulets as he stabbed furiously into the water through her waterlogged vision, but one of her legs gave out from under her and she plummeted back into the water gasping for air as she did.

The pain, she realized, was her own and she felt the deadened limb with her hoof to painfully find a jutting piece of steel that had buried itself into her foreleg above her right hoof. Her touch agonizingly tore at it in her flesh and she grimaced, then with soundless whimpering of the alien pain she forced herself back above the pool shaking the water from her head vigorously, favoring her uninjured foreleg as she brought her injured one to her hazy vision.

The piece of metal was huge, at least much larger than she felt comfortable looking at as it stretched out a good five or six inches away from her leg with small waterlogged rivulets of her blood leaking in steady droplets into the pool below her. It was then that she began to panic slightly as her fear of the winged unicorn ebbed into a full blown self realized danger. Her eyes were wide and they trembled as she traced the barbed scrap metal from injury to end, and her medical knowledge fought with the expected reaction of a patient who suffered such an injury.

Every fiber of her being wanted to rip the piece out there and then as the pain overloaded her senses, but she didn’t know the extent of the damage as she tried to calm herself enough to search for a healing potion in her saddlebag.

She didn’t have long to linger on it though as Eagle’s thrashing in the water ended as he stood up on his hind legs, his chest heaving savagely and his wings stretched out in a primal and instinctive pose of dominance as he peered around for the other threats not yet dealt with. He looked to her with recognition flashing in his eyes, and instinct leapt him to her. He ripped the metal piece out of her leg with a delicate, but fiercely jarring yank without warning that trailed small ribbons of her blood; Sparks swore felt like it just pulled out of the bone, but the shock kept her from shouting in pain.

He tore into a small bag on his side and pulled out a healing potion in precise and practiced focus as he ripped the stopper out and brought the flask to her lips; the gleaming magenta hued liquid poured into her mouth as she fought her instincts to fight it.

The potion did its work, and slowly the wound began to knit itself together with a miraculous speed that Sparks was dazzled at between her immensely jarred senses. The blood flow stopped short, the muscles and flesh grew back leaving a raw, pinkish hued coatless spot on her leg as the strangely distant pain ebbed away bit by precious bit.

Eagle looked up and locked eyes with Sparks once he saw the potion was working and spoke in succinctly hastened and shouted words in a savage, gravelly voice. “There’s still more out there!! This one’s the first I’ve managed to kill, but I’m betting at least two remain!! Keep your head down and stay alive!!”

It was all her overburdened senses could do just to nod in acknowledgement, and she brought her leg down to test it on the ground as Eagle pounced away from her with a catlike grace beyond the devastated shack around her. She heard two more of the unforgettable zaps and cracks from the winged unicorn’s attacks, and she shook the shellshock from her as her survival instincts were thrown into overdrive. It caused her to duck and gallop as fast as she could through the pools of muck to find better cover despite the pulsing pain in her hoofsteps.

After a short gallop that felt far too long for her own mental sanity she finally found decent cover further into the ball park, and she saw a flash of what looked like Eagle rushing from cover to cover avoiding the gaze and blasts of the winged unicorn. She tried to spot where the blasts were coming from but they seemed... sporadic, as if it was flying so unbelievably fast through the air or...

The realization dawned on her that she had heard of such spells before that could make such rapid place changes possible, and a groan sounded from her as she realized these things could teleport around the battlefield. With a silent cursing she kept moving through the shanty town turned lake as her S.A.T.S.’ magical charge refilled, and she felt the intrusion of the Alicorns telepathy pierce her mind again in a massive surge of anger and pain, voiced by the One in trembling rage that resounded in her mind’s ears.

‘You shall not survive Us!! We are the Great and Powerful Goddess!!’ A moment passed as the anger gave way to subtle concern, and back again to blinding fury as Sparkswondered if Eagle had thought back at them. ‘No matter how man of Us you fell, We shall be victorious!! We shall parade your corpses like trophies for every Sister you slay!!’

A strange, sick and twisted pleasure arose in Sparks’ mind as she ducked and dove around the town, keeping in motion and waiting for her S.A.T.S. to recharge. It was almost complete as that sensation gave way to the Equus shaking mind-speech.

‘Or perhaps We should watch you twist and deform as We bathe you, limb by limb into the Holy Glow!! We should watch you scream!! And beg for mercy!!’

Sparks’ overloaded senses in her head from the vehement, unleashed wrath caused her pause as she held a hoof to her head in pain. She thought to herself in an equally venomous form as her words were fueled by the Alicorn’s fury.

‘This is your ‘mercy’!? Where is the mercy in your words!?’

A recoiling sensation was felt that jarred the pain away, leaving tears in Sparks’ eyes as a void of relief was born from the release of psychic pressure. She sobbed slightly as her body hung in weakness against her leaden limbs, and shook her head hard shouting in her mind further as she ran on through the town keeping an eye on her S.A.T.S. meter; nearly charged.

‘What kind of merciful goddess does that to ponies -to creatures in general!? You are not a Goddess of mercy -or a goddess at all!! You are a monster!!’

The pain that surged through the telepathic link followed the pattern she had felt since she first experienced it, as a tremendously emotional kind; sorrow and agony over her words that cut deeply into the mind of the winged unicorn. She turned a corner as tears flowed from her eyes as they mixed with the heavy rain around her, and she spied off in the distance the winged unicorn perched above the town. She locked her eyes with their blazing green irises crowning their pupil slits, and she knew they saw her as the mental link inched a sensation that filled her with her own sorrow, drowned by her fury.

They spoke to her, a subtle voice of the One with the combined voices of thousands, but filled with accusation, injury, and heartbreak.

‘Why... why would you... say that? We... We only wish to help...’

Sparks couldn’t contain herself as the fury bubbled into a full body roar that her cute voice carried with surprising vehemence as it cracked and rent in her own wrath, and she felt the sensation of recoil in every enunciated word she howled with her own voice as it cracked. “This is not helping anypony but yourself!! You are selfish!! Monstrous!! An evil creature who wants nothing but your way!!”

The words struck hard, and she nearly felt what she could have sworn was a plea for forgiveness from innumerable voices in hushed tones before their telepathic link resurged into conviction. The winged unicorn looked back to her before its stance returned to one of strength, composed and murderous, and the One returned with vengeful accusation that dripped like melted slag from her words.

‘You do now know... what We do for this land... your ponies... My Little Pony...’ A feeling of hatred grew inside Sparks, as the vengeful wrath ebbed away to deep pity. ‘Do not judge your saviors... Little one... The end... does justify the means...’

Its horn began to shimmer and flash in emerald sparks before Sparks reactivated her S.A.T.S. and she saw with acuity their wicked form once more; the spell's affect on time nearly halting the tempest around them as the rain paused midair. Her chances were abysmally small to hit it, as low as twenty one from the distance alone. Nevermind that the azure bubble shields flashed from their horns and slowly inched their way down forming the spheres that would protect them from all manner of damage she would guess.

With no other option she queued three shots again, two at its chest and one at its legs, hoping that at least one would hit and do enough damage to stun them.

Hope beyond hope, but she had to try. The rage that grew within her boiled her eyes into a red haze that demanded it be erased; all against her pleading subconscious mind that detested such furious wrath. She paid it no mind, as it was now or never. Her fight or flight instincts were thrown into high gear, and she jumped to fighting almost reflexively as she drew her pistol to bear and sent her first shot flying; the neon red laser beaming through the air at its chest as a small piece of Sparks’ mind tore itself apart at her decision to ignore her own convictions.

The first shot struck the it midcast, and she saw with S.A.T.S. enhanced clarity that the impact caused a surge of pain from sizzling flesh through her that disrupted her horn’s magic; her shield receding. The second shot missed wide to Sparks’ aggravation as it plowed into the shield before it fizzed out of existence in a glamorous display of flashing purple sparks as the red beam mingled with the azure shield's aura. The light show refracted in the massive droplets of rain, and the horrendous smell of noxious ozone filled Sparks’ nose as she watched the colliding magic.

The third shot impacted the winged unicorn directly in one of her knees, and worse the S.A.T.S. display flashed in her interface that a critical hit was dealt. She watched as the abyssal, nearly ebon blue creature and all her malevolent form, from the bluish black mane and tail to its hooves, simply dissolved into a fine, glowing red ashen dust cloud that wisped in the tempest’s wind and rain.

The last thing Sparks saw of her... was the face of the creature’s final moments of lucidity twisted into terror and fear, its expression becoming wracked with agony, and her emotions were overwhelmed by the pain it caused and broadcast to her mind. In the crawling time a single thought echoed in her mind.

She... she swore she saw... somepony in that face, if only for a flash of a millisecond before the terrified expression was consumed by the glowing red ashes... and blown away in the slow and steady timeless wind.

S.A.T.S. wore off, and time reassumed control of itself as the rain plummeted down to Equus, lightning flashing furiously above the battlefield, and the ashes of the Alicorn were swept away in a lancing wind becoming glowing red mud in the rain as it fell. Just as quickly as she had died though, another winged unicorn appeared out of thin air and her motions were that of sudden shock. Its expression as it turned around was lost on Sparks at that distance, but the emotions that surged from the telepathic link told her all she needed.

It was grief, and it choked her rage into embers.

The Winged unicorn teleported away, and while Sparks’ every instinct told her to move and find cover again she couldn’t stop staring at the glowing red ashes that sparsely covered the shack where the winged unicorn stood; her last expression burnt into her mind like a brand that would never heal with time. She had killed an somepony, monster or not. A being... a living being that apparently felt...

Again...

In anger, she struck it down on the excuses she not even half a week ago she fought to understand in others. ‘Fight or die’, and while understanding she and Eagle had little choice, and that she had resolved herself to this course of action the moment she first drew her laser pistol against the raider fiends, this time...?

This time... a pang or morality buried itself deep in her psyche as she remembered that twisted face, a plea for mercy and release as she could swear she had seen in her eyes, her wordlessly twitching lips.

She stared down at the laser pistol in her telekinetic grasp, the cyan aura of her horn wreathing its grip, and every fiber of her being wished for her to throw it off into the lake’s waters; never to be seen again. Her eyes traced the stenciled print on its side, reading MEP-7, but any knowledge she had of the once proclaimed ‘tool’ became a weapon pure and simple in her mind. Detestation grew in her to the point where she almost threw it away, only...

She holstered the pistol, and she thought to herself as calmly as she could, trying to emanate a soothing feeling in her that, hopefully, the remaining one would feel. She felt within herself for that sensation, that presence, but found none beyond her own internal functions; the pounding heart in her ears, the rain and thunder as it boomed above, and the pitter patter of heavy rain on her body and barding. She looked around for her, and the deluge made it nearly impossible to see her if she was present.

In fact, were it not for knowing better she would say she was alone in the city. A lone soul... in a deadened world to compassion.

She galloped away and splashed and sloshed through the muck as she tried to reestablish the mental link, despite how terribly uncomfortable it was, and she fought hard with herself to figure out how one could even begin to do something like that. As she ran through the town the only sounds she heard were of her own panting and mad galloping, the storm and the rain battering the water’s surface, all the sounds her sudden desires didn’t wish to hear. She wanted to find the Alicorn, and somehow reaffirm her own beliefs, but she was nowhere to be found or seen, no sensations or intrusions felt besides her own.

At least until she heard a savage shout and blast off to the side that caught every fiber of her attention with a resounding sensation of pain that poured through her. A massive pluming fireball of bright orange and ebon ochre with a hugely concussive force nearby, perhaps a row or two over from where she was. She knew that was where Eagle and the Alicorn were, and she knew that she had to reach them before either slew the other.

So with a furious gallop she charged through the gaps she could find between the assembled shacks, heavily smashing through the muck with huge draughts of air as she hoped beyond hope. It grew in her like a blossoming flower, shining brightly against the electrified greenish white tempest that flashed above her in the conflict darkened sky with unfathomable depths of irony she wasn't privy to.

She broke free of the shack line and out into an open space or yard that pooled in the stadium’s center, and halting fast in her mad gallop she fought for her breath as she saw them. Eagle and the winged unicorn, squared off against each other, wounded and bleeding like mirrors as they both shared nearly equal injuries and circled each other like beasts in a final showdown.

The hatless Eagle’s trench coat was tattered in spots and his entire form was draining small rivulets of waterlogged blood almost from beak to tail into the murky pool below him as he favored a leg in his pace with a drooping wing. His wounds, however, were knitting themselves back together with a grievously slow pace that showed in his murderous expression; his blazing eyes locked for everything they were worth on his foe.

The winged unicorn’s own wounds were not magically healing at all, and if they wereSparks could not see them doing so. Despite them, which were numerous as it seemed all manner of terrible inflictions spotted her abyssal purple coat and ebon shaded mane to match like shrapnel and bullet wounds; all of them bled profusely like half opened spigots.

The look in her eyes matched Eagle’s to the letter, in maliciousness and wariness both with a subtle layer of pain that emanated from them, and she walked with a similar limping that seemed to be body wide in her stride as her wings hung limply against her sides.

It was now or never for Sparks to do what she thought was right. She felt as if should she not take the chance it would be burned into her for the rest of her days. So with a deep breath and shake of her head she shouted in a cracking, hoarse tone that caught both their attentions, and they looked to her in subtle bafflement. “Stop!!”

Eagle was the first to speak, and his battle haze was still very much alive as he growled his response, unaware of what she had planned. “Stay back girl!! This thing is still dangerous, even wounded...!”

His hazy eyes kept a lock on the winged unicorn who maintained eye contact with Eagle, and her slithering mind-speech returned as it dragged its barbs against her skull, pain and agony apparent in every word the One spoke.

‘You do well to fear... Even so... wounded as We may be!’

Sparks’ face twisted in anger fueled by desperation, and she repeated her demand as loudly as her voice would carry it. “Please!! I said stop!!”

Both of them jerked in her sudden shouted plea, and they traded glances from her and back to the other as they stopped in their tracks. “What the fuck are you doing girl!?”

Eagle said as he shot her a dangerous look, demanding an explanation in the shortest time she could give it, and with a heaving breath Sparks all but collapsed to her belly in the muck below her as the storm surged; a sudden confusion emanating from the telepathic link.

‘What... What indeed...?’

Sparks looked up as she gave small sobs with an expression made of pure sorrow, and after shaking her head hard throwing rainwater away from her face she looked at the Alicorn with imploring eyes. She tried to project her plea in pure emotional power. “What’s your name?”

The voice recoiled slightly from the question, and doubt grew in it until it spoke with uncertainty etched in its words.

‘We... We don’t understand what you...’

“Your name!! What do I call you!?” the confusion repeated as it... she... subtly shook its head in a physical balking gesture.

‘We... We are the Goddess of course... Haven’t you been listening Little One?’ Sparks’ sadness gave way to frustration as she threw her head up in a groaning half shout, one that sounded more like a hoarse gasp, and she locked eyes with the her. She seemed visibly shocked by her request; one that seemed impossibly simple to Sparks. All the while Eagle’s incredulous eyes darted between Sparks and the winged unicorn in front of him with immense confusion of his own worn plainly on his face.

“Ugh!! Alright then, my name is Sparks! What is your name!? You have to have had one once, any name! Other than ‘The Goddess!’”

‘We... We don’t have a... a name...’ The mind-speech emanated with a dull and hollow sensation as it echoed like a whisper in a dripping cave, and the winged unicorn’s confusion gave way to its own sorrow. She tilted her head, as if pondering that very question herself as the emotions flickered between sadness and confusion, maybe even a touch of revolt, andSparks gave a solemn smile as she slowly approached her as she picked herself up from the murky pool.

“Well... you, you kinda look like a ...” Sparks looked her up and down as she tried furiously in her mind to come up with a name that suited her, and fast; one that wasn’t bad or insulting or... or anything that could ruin this chance for her. “How... how about Lilac? How does that sound like a name for you?”

A feeling of emptiness felt like it was smothering them through the mind-speech, and she head hung low as Sparks saw small... nearly invisible tears forming in her blazing green eyes. The tears sparkled with emerald refractions as the voices spoke melancholically, missing almost all of its malicious sensations. ‘We... We all had a name once... a name that brought... shame... sickened glances... The Goddess never liked Our name... Lilac is... preferable to it...’

Sparks wanted to cry as the deeply somber feelings slithered through her mind, but she girded herself and smiled despite it. “Well then... Lilac... There has been enough bloodshed today, and I’m...”

The words hung in her throat like stones as she tried to say it right. She wanted to make absolute certain that what she said was what she meant, but the winged unicorn sensed her numerous thoughts, the unmistakable pureness of thought tearing away misunderstanding, and responded before she could speak. ‘No need to be sorry... Sparks... We are of only many... who have failed in their quests...’

Lilac brought her head up and her eyes droned about the stadium. She gave a guttering sigh as sudden feelings of nostalgia and painful memories spanning time gaveSparks reason to shed tears in the rain as a bolt of greenish white lightning tore the sky. Lilac shook her head, and with a startling and immensely powerful overglow of her horn, blazing neon green in hue, an absolutely gigantic bolt of deathly green magic shot above her as she threw her horn into the sky, a trail of pulsing rings forming and dissipating along the path as fast as they appeared.

The bolt exploded in the sky like a second sun with a massive overpressure enveloping them, and the bright emerald hues lanced out like veins across the tempest above as the rain seemed to immediately give way, ebbing to a light rain in seconds, and the Alicorn hung her head again with a sensation of shame washing over Sparks.

Her eyes dimmed, and the emerald glow disappeared. ‘We... We only wanted to help...’

“I know Lilac... I know... but...”

‘Forcing is... should not be Our way... Your Ponies are...’ the One devolved into many as the feeling of shame erupted, throwing Sparks in sudden involuntary sobs as Lilac did the same. ‘They are here- Safe and sou- Hurt but aliv- Scared and cryi- Terrified of Us-’

With a shake of her head the voices reformed the One, and with finality she locked eyes with Sparks; an unspoken plea for forgiveness was felt. ‘We shall remember you... and your kindness...’

That was the last of Lilac Sparks saw as she wisped away in a sudden flash of azure magic with sparkles that fizzed out of sight as soon as they appeared. She was gone, teleported away to some... other place, and the last feeling she felt from the mind-speech was a deep pang of pain as she had though of the name Sparks had given her.

Neither Sparks nor Eagle felt the presence in their heads, and their minds were their own again as solely their emotions flowed. Sparks gave a last sniffling sob, and she shook her head, hanging it and sitting down in the murky pool under her, collar deep in the muck.

The rain continued to dissipate, slowly but surely, and the lightning strikes stopped, leaving nothing but a dark cloud overhead that drizzled on their heads. Eagle looked at her at first with raging eyes, but as time passed his tense and savage readiness for the winged unicorn’s return proved pointless. He relaxed and it took all his remaining strength not to collapse in the water below him.

He shook his head, not believing a thing that had just happened between emotional and logical cause. He spoke low and dangerously, but the confusion what genuine. “What... The fuck was that girl?”

Sparks sighed deeply as the drizzling rain all but disappeared, leaving no more than a misty haze that fell to Equus below. She held her head up high with closed eyes, prideful of what she had managed to do, even though she had no idea how she had pulled it off as relief washed over her in buckets. She spoke softly, and with a few tears she managed to say what she wanted to Lilac aloud.

“Violence isn’t always the answer... and...” She gave a guttering sigh as her tears flowed faster in sobs that wracked her taxed heart. “And in this world... compassion is at a premium... that... that was what I wanted to say to her... to Lilac...”

“You mean to tell me you were serious about naming that... that thing!?”

Eagle’s sudden rage made Sparks’ own emotions flare as her eyes widened, the anger smothered by sorrow. “Yes I was! Because she, Lilac, was not simply a thing! No more than you are just a murderous half breed!”

Sparks was too late to catch herself, and upon realizing her words she choked on them and hung her head low, her muzzle nearly touching the water as her tears made tiny splashes in the stilling lake. Eagle locked his eyes on her, a simmering anger began to boil and he approached her, albeit with his slowing limp through the murky pool and spoke dangerously. “What did you say...?”

“I said you are a person Eagle! You aren’t just some monster! Despite what I’ve seen you can be a good person! But this place... this...” She threw her hooves abroad around her, gesturing with raging eyes at the flooded stadium around her and beyond into the wasteland as she leapt from the murky water. “This... Wasteland! Endless deserts and ponies -creatures- simply trying to survive in bombed out craters!! Lilac and her sisters actually want to help, even if their methods leave much to be desired!”

She hung her head, staring at her hooves in front of her. Her eyes tracing the muck and smeared blood on them, and she cried her words. “I can sympathize with wanting to help... but... but not being able to... Not the way I’d want to help...!”

She turned on Eagle who maintained his dangerous stare, and it didn’t deter her inner fury from venting the last week of her life and all the years she moseyed around her Stable feeling useless, even when she was given the opportunity to help it always turned sour... somehow.

“Like those raiders we butchered to the last! Yes I understand that we had little choice in the matter but it still doesn’t make it right!! Or the Enclave troopers you butchered to keep me alive! Or-or-or maybe I can talk about my fillyhood where I did nothing but wrote memorization and simply churned out weapons and armor for my Stable since I was fourteen for the Enclave! I can only guess what wicked crap they’ve done with my handiwork!”

She all but choked as her inner self exploded in grief over the hard smack of reality that came crashing down onto her. She had helped in the orchestration of violence and disparity all her life, even if only a little, and it brought a shame of her own that she couldn’t escape from choking on her words. “They... Lilac, I mean... They are the first beings out here I’ve seen that want to help... and I... I... I killed one!! I even thought I was right to do it!!”

It was then she was thrown into full bodied wrenching sobs. Eagle watched her at first with a subtle anger, but it dissipated as a distant part of him sympathized with her; a long buried nerve from a time in his youth long ago that he had already burnt and abandoned. He looked around the stadium as the malicious storm clouds above ebbed away to brighter, but still morosely hanging cloud layer that always smothered the sky.

He sighed deeply, conflicted between detachment and empathy, and he simply shook his head as he limped closer to Sparks as she tore herself apart inside. He laid a talon on her heaving shoulders and spoke lowly, unable to give more emotion than the gesture he gave. “Come on... we need to go free what’s left of the town.”

Sparks looked up to him, bloodshot eyes draining in rivulets of tears to her jaw, and she sniffled harshly between sobs and nodded her head. He wanted to be kind, caring and empathetic, wanting to say... something that could help, only the words hung in his throat as his inner bafflement resounded at her letting that thing leave alive; her refusal to grasp the ‘do or die’ reality agitated him. He scoffed darkly, and turned to find a dry spot to finish healing himself after taking his soaking wet hat from the water’s surface as it floated nearby, and shook it vigorously. “Great wind... I need a drink...”

Footnote: Red Eagle level 22 +17 skill points! Perk earned!

Mental Block: After fighting Alicorns and their telepathic abilities, you gave learned how to better concentrate when your mind is being played with. You gain a +1 Perception when your senses are being obscured intentionally, whether by supernatural or natural means.

Sparks level 4 +21 skill points! Perk earned!

Swift Learner(1): After a grueling experience, you’ve begun to slowly acclimate to your new way of life! You gain +5% XP any time you earn them!

Quest Perk achieved - Alicorn Mercy

While ponies all around may turn their heads in confusion, nopony shall deny you of the satisfaction. You gain +100 karma!

Chapter 13: Science and Secrecy

Chapter 13: Science and Secrecy

It took Red Eagle and Sparks only fifteen minutes or so to find the townsponies. They were bunkered up deep within the stadium’s inner structure in bolstered halls and corridors -emergency shelters as they had said- and the fear mingled with confusion in their eyes was apparent as dozens of them quivered and shook, already roughly knowing what had happened through the mind-speech.

One of the guards, the one that Eagle had spoken to over a month ago when he had went to see Mayor Madame, looked at Eagle with slight apprehension that gave way to skeptical gratitude as he asked after the creatures that had attacked.

‘Are they... dead?’ he had asked with confusion in his eyes, and Eagle merely kept limping past him saying ‘They’re gone’. The response wasn’t what the guard expected, but either without a care of how or not wanting to accuse the deliverance they so desperately needed he took the news with a guttering sigh of relief and backward stares to Eagle, Tato, and Sparks, the strange Stable mare who followed close behind.

The townsponies looked to their saviors with mixed gratitude as their own recurrent terror made their words jumbled, incoherent at times, but thanks and such were given by the dozens as they shivered in remembrance of how the presence of the mind-speech made them all uneasy. Within their gratitude though, it was apparent that the lingering stares there was confliction. A griffon mercenary and a Stable dweller had saved them, as Tato was quick to correct those who included her with their gratitude.

It wasn’t so strange to them, they thought, but after so long of being convinced of how outsiders were nothing but trouble or inconveniences they reconsidered their prejudices as a filthy little earth pony filly jumped to Eagle in strange amazement. It was the foal that Eagle had seen in the distance, when he had flown up to the Mayor’s office so long ago, and she hugged him shouting her thanks repeatedly with Eagle suppressing the urge to push her aside, awkwardly patting her on the back as he stared around for the foal’s parents... who never came for her from the crowd.

Some of the townsponies visibly smiled at the sight, others silently balked or held sorrowful gazes with Eagle as he searched, but all in all it was a resounding message to them they took harshly. That perhaps they were wrong about Red Eagle.

Sparks, strangely enough, received similar lingering distrust she recognized, but unaware of the cause she shook her head as she pulled from her soaked saddlebag her doctor’s kit and began treating what injuries they had sustained in the attack. She stitched and mended their wounds as best she could, making an impromptu triage within their shelters and, soon enough her hooves were coated in a strangely different kind of blood.

Blood of the injured as she helped them; truly helping the hurt, the dying. It was a somber feeling, but one she felt good about helping to remedy.

As the wounded were tended and greetings exchanged they emerged from the shelter in groups, clearing out into their skies darkened Crystal City to rebuild what was destroyed and fix that which was broken. Their lingering gazes hung on the massive murky pool of water that covered the ground, and the shacks that were blown to pieces as their smoking ruins billowed fumes from smothered embers. They grimaced and their faces twisted into despair as they took in the sight of their town, their home, and some fell to their knees and gave numbed sobs in the wake of the destruction they never thought would be able to touch them behind their walls.

After a time, they managed to create the illusion of control as the leaders emerged from the guards and common folk, directing ponies to certain jobs and necessities that would be crucial to their immediate survival, and most took the direction with eagerness for normalcy once again like sheep heeding their shepherds. Eagle saw with his own eyes history repeat... again, and it was no less numbing as it occurred to him before.

The broken remains of a people with little hope to keep them afloat, with the ones among them who wore brave faces to support the weak and lost, and slowly but surely the illusion of safety inched its way back to their lives. Eagle, Tato, and Sparks worked with the effort to secure themselves, and he shook his head again, for the same reasons as before mere weeks ago, as attachment came back to him exhuming his long buried emotions.

*** *** ***

It wasn’t until nearly evening had come that Eagle and Sparks sat in the torn to shreds office of the grievously injured Mayor Madame as she sat with them on her sodden couch. Mayor, her burgundy coat and platinum mane spotted with dark blackish blotches of dried blood, was crisscrossed with bandages and soon to be scars as her once impeccable visage was tainted by the horrors of conflict. Sparks had helped her out of her once critical condition, but she still echoed pain in her motions.

Her breath was labored and spoke little due to the shooting pains like fire in her once comely frame, and Eagle spoke to her with a flat, gravelly voice to the guard next to her who, despite their rescue, kept a close distance to the mayor in reflexive protectiveness. “How many dead?”

The guard shook his head and hung it low as he gave a guttering sigh and wiped his shaggy mane aside. “Well... until we get a head count we won’t know for certain. Off the shoulder I’d guess we might have a lost fifteen or twenty... More than likely more.”

He shook his head again, showing the subtle feeling in his head that he wasn’t sure it was over, like a fantasy after those creatures had played with his mind in such a fashion. As an earth pony Eagle had guessed that a fear of the paranormal would hit them hard; harder than most. Even Sparks still seemed shaken as she did all she could to keep a brave face.

The guardspony continued after a brief and distant stare. “I know everypony got hurt, in some minor fashion... but the initial attack is what hurt us the worst. Once we knew what was goin’ on the majority of the town fled in a mad panic, gallopin’ all over the fuckin’ place... by that time we had already lost too many guards to their surprise attack. Any who lifted a weapon basically got killed outright.” He chuckled madly, as the fear seeped and hardened to an expression of ebbing shellshock. “Kinda hard to kill somethin’ that’s messin’ in your head like that...”

Eagle grunted in agreement, his own distant stare betraying the rattled sensations that were left in their wake; only a deeper feeling is what fueled the most of his expression. Sparkslooked up at Eagle and the guardspony after gazing out over the town below, speaking solemnly with a suspenseful voice. “So... what were they? They... well, they looked like...” She couldn’t say more than that, but all assembled knew what she meant.

“They looked like the Goddesses...” Mayor Madame said, breaking the silence. “Definitely wasn’t my idea of them at all, to be sure.”

Ward breathed deeply as he shifted uncomfortably and spoke. “But... why would, well... Goddesses do this kind of thing? I mean... I assume everypony heard that... that shit in our heads?”

“What they were doesn’t matter much anymore.” Eagle cut in as he drilled the wall opposite of him with his eyes. “They attacked you, and in the end we fended them off. What matters now is how you’ll recover.”

Ward straightened himself, and sighed before he spoke again. “We rebuild. Bit by bit ‘till we’re back to where we were, then hope to... well, Celestia those freaks don’t poke their heads around here again...” The guardspony’s eyes lingered over the devastation below as his words caught on his swear, and he sighed in frustration over the now seeming inadequacy of what they were prideful for; ‘near perfect’ protection from the wasteland beyond. “I don’t think we could of shored up enough to handle those things... Maybe the Steel Rangers could but those fuckers are equally freaky in their own way... no hurry at all to come runnin’.”

Sparks looked at the guardspony with a confused expression and turned to Eagle for clarification, but he only sighed with a dismissive shake of his head. “Later, Sparks.”

“Short story is... we’re bleeding in the water, and we need to get our defenses back up before another group gets funny ideas.” Mayor Madame interjected in a pained voice as she lethargically shook her head, coughing as she did. The guardspony moved to her with a supportive hoof, but she just smiled slightly and held up her own. “No... I’m... I’m fine Ward.” He nodded his head and backed up to his previous position, and the mayor continued to speak, albeit with subtle pains in her speech.

“Once we... we manage to drain the water and center ourselves we should... should be fine. Once commerce flows again we will be more... more than capable to bounce back. That I promise...” Her words seemed mostly directed at Ward, whose tense stance eased as she stayed objective and optimistic.

Eagle knew though that, in a time like this, the town couldn’t afford indecision or misdirection, and morale was every bit as important as anything. He only hoped that Mayor wasn’t simply putting on a brave face for the townsponies. They needed more than illusions. He sighed as he looked over to Sparks, and with a slow return of his head he locked eyes with Mayor Madame again.

She knew what he was thinking, about her contract with him, and she gave a guttering sigh as she realized what was to happen next would be dangerous for her and the town. “I’m... I’m sorry Red Eagle but...”

“We had a deal Mayor.” He said levelly and accusingly, no hint of emotion behind the words and she flinched from the jab.

“I know we did... but it isn’t that simple anymore.”

“The fuck it isn’t.” With Eagle’s outburst Ward advanced on him with a sudden steely determination to protect the mayor at any cost. Eagle locked eyes with Ward as Sparks’ startled gaze darted back and forth between them as the sudden escalation surprised her.

Mayor Madame threw a hoof up with physical pain wracking her frame as she gave a clear order to him. “Stand down Ward... they saved us!”

“Yeah, and he’s plannin’ on being a nuisance!”

“I said stand down!” Ward reluctantly withdrew to her side as his nostrils flared in anger. Mayor gave a full body cough as pain shot through her bandaged wounds, and after she regained control of herself she spoke. “Here’s what I mean Eagle... I can pay you, despite the fact that we now need... every cap we can get our hooves on... that isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?” Eagle said flatly, and Mayor Madame turned her head behind her to the door leading to her office’s backrooms. She sighed as she realized the only way to convince Eagle was to reveal a great many secrets and truths about her situation, and she hoped it would be enough.

“Follow me, there’s something... something I want you to see...”

*** *** ***

Even the backrooms were torn to shreds to Eagle's subtle surprise; the once obvious glory and cleanliness reduced to scraps that so often littered The Wasteland had invaded this once separate place like a virus, rending the impeccable with decay. Furnishings and furniture were strewn about in a maddened lack of pattern, and scorched holes the size of melons in the scorched wallpaper that once showed cheery images of ponies or animals acted as the telltale signs of the winged unicorns’ magical attacks.

Eagle wondered how long they fought for, and how far damage had actually been done before they had arrived and defeated them; a development that Eagle had not expected at all. When he caught a glimpse of one, and their magical potential, he thought he could kill one by himself, which he did just barely, but Sparks being there to distract the rest proved invaluable taking on no less than three of the monsters. An entire wing dead, and it once again got under his skin about his growing unvoiced debt to her.

She had saved him four times now; once from the wounds he suffered saving her against the Enclave’s troops -a debt he swept aside for the fact he did it for her to begin with, again with the raider fiends merely two days ago -even though that it was more accidental than intentional, again with Garret and the Talon mercs by blowing a wing off of him mid-fight, and again today as she kept one of those things on her tail and with a stroke of unimaginable luck took out another before it could move, and somehow convincing the third to break pursuit. The entire development was equally as unexpected as defeating them all.

Three of those overpowered monsters felled, and one without help, and she was fresh out of the Stable. ‘A natural... or plain fucking lucky,’ he thought as he grumbled that he was impressed.

Mayor Madame had Ward lead the way, and he opened doors and cleared debris as she limped along using an old refurbished crutch to support herself. Finally reaching their destination in what looked like a storage room of sorts that held steel cabinets and crates, boxes on top of boxes for what Eagle could only assume was a pseudo vault for precious trade goods or caps. The piece that Mayor Madame was approaching, however, was a low steel wrought table against a wall that was covered in a light blue tarp concealing something oddly... pony shaped below it; like a morgue’s body bag.

Eagle sighed as he looked at the table, wondering just how some dead no-name was going to convince him to relinquish their debt to him before the mayor began a long winded speech in an overtaxed voice about just how it in fact did. “Two days ago... before... before the attack that launched this afternoon with that... damned storm, my contact with the... eh... ‘Employer’ I told you about, arrived in town -very early, much like yourself- to await your arrival. Only... with the attack he-” she paused, reconsidering her words as she tilted her head slightly and squinted her eyes. “... It, I should say, was killed in the fighting.”

Eagle’s expression remained stoically still and distant, but the correction caught his attention with a small measure of puzzlement. “What do you mean ‘it’?”

Mayor Madame gave a hoof signal, and Ward reluctantly threw the tarp from the table, revealing something that neither Eagle nor Sparks had ever seen before, and both were stunned by what they saw.

It was a metal pony.

Not at all like the classic, and infamous, Robronco sentries or Robobrains; clunky, lacking dexterity or aesthetic in design cranked out on an assembly line for war only roughly resembling their makers. No, this metallic equine before them looked almost, but not quite, like a slaved over work of art; despite the obvious critical damage the machine has suffered. Its strange and dull, sterile white polymer ‘skin’ that wasn’t charred by blasts looked smooth to the touch, and in sections like the joints it separated showing the internals. Elegantly wrought and polished silver servos and joists that stretched from the limbs and neck into the body cavity mounted the sophisticated, almost alien internal mechanisms to its chassis.

The Face was the most intriguing piece of the wrecked machine however. It was Equine, absolutely, but almost deceptively close to equinity. So close that if all one saw was the head they could mistake it for a master’s carved statuette or bust, hewn and polished from white marble complete with realistic lips, cheeks, teeth, tongue, brow, eye lids, ears, and eyes; all of which were locked in an empty expression of the dead. It even had the remains of a fibrous mane and tail that glistened like carbon fiber between silver grays and blacks.

Eagle’s eyes locked tightly, wide and baffled, on the foreign... thing. It was something he had never seen before at all, and no robot he had ever seen even remotely came close to the complexity and advanced tech that lay before him. Sparks shared the bafflement in far greater strides however as even all the technology she had seen; between the Enclave’s and her Stable’s and all the exotic machinations in old magazines of prewar gizmos and gadgets, none of it even compared.

Her eyes traced the designs that were almost magical in how striking the details were. The graceful inner mechanisms she examined in the blast holes looking so much like sparkle generators or flux dynamos among computer parts a fraction of the size of the usual equivalents; if she was even sure she recognized them. She could have even sworn some of the mechanical boxes and spheres inside it resembled certain vital organs, and even more impressively these ‘organs’ were placed correctly in the anatomy like they were meant to serve the functions of their corporeal look alikes.

Only... a snagging thought entered Sparks’ mind as she tilted her head and moved closer to get a better look. What need would a robot have for lungs, or a liver? The heart she guessed could be a power source; the generator for the machine hiding a sparkle generator or magical talisman. Maybe the liver could have been like an oil filter or some other purification system for internal fluids in the rubber lines and pipes that ran between it's multiple parts and pieces, and the lungs could serve as pumps... unless the machine used oxygen or other gases from the atmosphere for its internal processes.

Her head was spinning by the strange and beautiful combination of medical and technological wonders that would only be intensified if it was either winged or horned, which it bore neither of, and she was left with a hanging mouth and stunned expression as Mayor Madame caught both their confusion. She nodded slowly as she brought the crutch closer to stand more comfortably, favoring one set of legs. “Filly and Gentlegriffon... I give you a ‘Synth’.”

“A... ‘Synth’?” Sparks asked with purely stunned amazement in her expression and Mayor Madame chuckled a little, taking a subtle pleasure in being able to reveal one of The Wasteland’s most obscure secrets that even the Steel Rangers would salivate to become privy in their mad quest to sequester away all advanced technology. Even Eagle she saw was locked onto the sight like a wild eyed tribal witnessing magic.

“A ‘Synth’ is short for synthetic... of course that’s obvious but... Synth specifically refers to these. ‘Sentient, sapient even, Equid-’... eh... Oh what did it call itself...?”

“Ekweeday Mockena, I think...” Ward struggled to say, his lingering eyes on the synth betraying his reluctance to trust it or its mere presence, or if it was even truly ‘dead’; if a machine could be considered as such.

Sparks looked up and she recognized the phrase, it was part of an Old Ponish dialect that she took as an elective in her youth, as for some odd reason all the old medical names and phrases were in the language. “Equidae Machina... Equine Machine in Old Ponish...” She said as she looked ever deeper and longer in the synth.

Mayor Madame chuckled again as she grew a smirk. “Well, at least you understand what it said... This fellow didn’t exactly elaborate on that, but... they weren't wrong though if that’s the case; ‘Equine Machine’. A frighteningly good replication of ponies and, by what I heard from it, the only giveaway is the strange plastic-like skin and the techy bits poking out. It even spoke like us.”

Eagle gave a subtle scoff as he broke his eyes from the synth and scratched his scarred beak with a talon. He shook his head and looked to Mayor with a burning question in his head. “This is... interesting and all... but what’s this got to do with my payment?”

The mayor hung her head slightly as if measuring her next words with extreme care, and after breathing deeply she spoke. “Well... for starters this synth was meant to take... Sparks here... along with him, back to... wherever it came from. Truth is I don’t know where he was going to take her; somewhere west. Add in the fact that I don’t have any method of direct contact I can’t tell it’s... eh, ‘owner’ I guess... that it died here. They contacted me, and they might make contact again once they find out it failed but... odds are that will take way to long.”

She shook her head slowly and breathed deeply as her eyes lingered on the synth. “Worse is the fact that the Enclave... Thunderhead specifically down in The Hoof, is doing this under the table from the rest of their government. It’s bad enough that a... covert operation like this is going on -in my city no less- but with that massive storm The Enclave above us will be showing up to investigate.” She gave a grim chuckle as she shook her head speaking low. “A massive storm like that is a Double-you-Em-Dee to the Enclave... after all, with all their ‘Cloud-Crops’. No telling when they will show up.”

She chuckled darkly at the irony that something as simple as torrential, hurricane style weather was so dangerous for the lofty Enclave, despite their technological superiority. So dangerous in fact as to be labeled just as bad as the bombs and megaspells that shredded Equus a century ago, nevermind her puzzled fascination with the idea of growing crops in clouds; of all things.

“Skip to the punch line Mayor.” Eagle said impatiently, and Mayor Madame gave a guttering sigh as she shifted uncomfortably.

“Point is... If an Enclave troop arrives and finds out anything, and I mean anything, related to Thunderhead the town itself may as well be what they call ‘impounded’. Between her, her suit, and her PipBuck -which we don’t have any of those goddess damned lock tools to remove it- they’d connect the dots with their databases.

"They know Ninety-Six is in The Hoof, which is Thunderhead territory. They find her after their excessively thorough investigation and this town is screwed, even harder than with those... things. Not to mention my invaluable contacts in Thunderhead will dump me faster than a Brahmin out of one of their sky-tanks.”

She gave another guttering sigh as her speech took the wind out of her, and she shook her head as Eagle was standing there like the picture of danger. Tattered and filthy as he was with that stone cold expression that told her all he thought and more. ‘And this is my problem?’ was the question she knew he was thinking, and before he could voice it she continued after taking a breath. “And... the reason why this is a problem is that I’ve got another job for you. It’ll put us in debt to you because I barely have the caps to pay you what I already owe you... but I will be willing to consider it as barter-credit towards the town until the job is finished...”

The offer was, in Eagle’s judgment, a rather convenient dodge for her. He maintained his cold stare and spoke with an equally chilling voice. “How much?”

“I’m willing to double what I owe you; sixteen thousand, minus the two I paid you a month ago.”

Ward balked from his gaze at the synth and practically yammered in utter shock and confusion to the number, and Mayor held up a hoof to him stopping him short from his coming protest. Eagle on the other hoof merely scoffed as he looked off to the side with a disbelieving smirk. He had a hard time believing eight thousand at first, but fourteen grand?

He couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it for no better reason that no one in The Wasteland had ever fronted caps like that for any job; not even a Canterlot salvage run. “I’d recommend you stop yanking my chain Mayor.” She maintained a stoic face without a change in expression or a twitch in her eyelids. She was dead serious.

“I’m not ‘yanking’ your chain Red Eagle, when I say fourteen I mean it. If that’s the price of my town’s future prosperity, instead of being under the Enclave’s scrutiny, then I’ll pay it.” Eagle simply paced around Sparks as she stared longly at the synth body, all but unaware of the conversation happening around them. He stared at the synth and shook his head in indecision of whether she was being serious or not, and before he could respond she upped the ante. “Alright Eagle, how about eighteen?”

Both Ward and Eagle shot her glances of near stupefaction, and Eagle’s voice accused her of insanity. “You can’t be fucking serious?”

“She cannot stay here Red Eagle!!” Mayor retorted in desperation as she thrust a bandaged hoof at Sparks, the sudden shout snapped her euphoria as she shook her head and looked at Mayor with confusion in her eyes. Mayor staggered a bit before catching herself, and adjusted her stance with a whooping cough. “Eighteen thousand to take her west; to find out where the synth was going to take her.”

Sparks looked back and forth between Eagle and Mayor, and she weighed how much value her own entrusted confidential information was given the current situation. If they really didn’t know then what little she knew would at least give them more direction that ‘west’, but she didn’t exactly know if it would help.

Sparks spoke lowly, and measuring her own words she recalled what her Overmare and the Enclave officer had told her. ‘Of the utmost secrecy’ and ‘need to know only’, among other things... “Well... I think I can help with ‘where’ but I’m not sure...”

Eagle and Mayor glanced at her as she picked herself up from the synth before her; loath to take her eyes from its enrapturing magnificence. Mayor spoke first, shook her head and spoke with a cautiously low voice. “Now Sparks, anything you’ve been told is to be kept in confidence... Need to-”

“Need to know basis... yeah, but-”

Eagle scoffed and interrupted flatly as he decided to humor her, taking the job seriously. “I can’t take any creature anywhere without a destination; so yeah, I need to know. There’s hundreds of thousands of square miles between here and the west coast, and you surely don’t expect me to flip over rocks for a decade.”

Mayor hung her head and shifted her crutch as she spoke, trying to convince him of the gravity of what he was asking. “Listen Eagle, as much as I hate classified horseshit the... ‘Employer’ is worse than the Enclave, Steel Rangers, and all the Stables combined in terms of secrecy; might even top the Ministries. I’m willing to bet that the Enclave only knew of them because they were contacted by them first, and even still my feelers in Thunderhead only pulled names and possible directions, all without any coinciding details.”

She trailed her eyes over to the synth with a lingering fear in her expression before she shook her head. “It is what warned me of how precarious my own questions were. It knew, ‘they’ knew of my investigations; as if by magic.”

Eagle maintained his flat expression and wondered why she was so spooked by this. Worse than the old Ministries in terms of secrecy? He had trouble believing that, as they were massive governmental institutions of prewar Equestria in its peak, with the funding to fuel their operations against the Zebras in war and espionage. They failed in that endeavor, obviously, but most ponies barely ever heard the term ‘Ministry’ before, and far fewer knew a thing about them.

Only... as the past few days had shown him one improbability after another his disbelief was suspended for such outlandish events. He spoke lowly, squinting his eyes as he enunciated every word. “I. Cannot. Take. Any creature. Anywhere. Without a destination.”

Mayor sighed deeply as she hoped the slip of information wouldn’t come crashing down on her head, or her town for that matter, and gestured to Sparks with a hoof as she wore an expression of subtle worry. “Alright Sparks... let’s hear it...”

Sparks scratched her chin with a hoof as she wore a contemplative expression. ‘Where to begin’ was the question that burned into her mind until she decided the best way to start would be a name, one spoken with nervousness in whispers she didn’t understand. Only if this synth was their handiwork then there must have been something to fear. The technology matched the Enclave officer’s description of just how far ahead of them they were.

“Well... they’re called ‘The Institute’... for starters. The way I heard it nopony knows where they came from or who they are... but technology wise, well...” She gestured her hoof over the synth that lay broken, yet astounding all the same on the table before them; amazement was still lingering in her eyes. “You can see their work for yourselves... they’re based somewhere out west of course, but the only geography I remember being referenced was a place called... The ‘Undiscovered West’.”

Eagle scoffed as he shook his head, and he grimly chuckled. “That’s as far west as it gets on the map; the border of prewar Equestria, past the Smokey Mountains.”

“There’s more.” Sparks said as she shifted uncomfortably. “The rough location that the officer gave me included a name, said with equal dread it seemed.” she hung her head in a pause, unfamiliar with the name but sure that it might shake them. “A place called ‘The Divide’...”

Eagle’s stoic expression twisted subtly as he became as rigid as a statue at the mention with wide shot eyes, with Mayor balking in a voiceless gasp and Ward matching Sparks’ confused expression. Mayor spoke first in a curse as she pulled her bandaged hoof to her forehead. “Oh fuck me running...”

*** *** ***

Mayor Madame stood in front of the large wall covering map in her office, with Ward close by as Eagle and Sparks stared on its semi blasted marker lines and dividers as old world locations mingled with newer Wastelandic ones that rose over the century. They shuddered as the massive glass window that served as the mayor’s shielded, queenly view of her dominion below now served as a grim reminder of the terrors that had befallen them; a chilling, whipping breeze cutting through their clothes and coats.

Sparks recognized some of the map by her PipBuck’s, and she switched to it with a few deft magical button pushes to fill in the gaps left in the battle’s wake. The subtle bafflement returned as her eyes spanned across Equestria in its entirety.

Mayor Madame cleared her throat as she scanned over the once nearly pristine log of The Wasteland from the irradiated ‘Frozen North’ to the arid and empty ‘Badlands’ in the south, and it spanned from the ‘Celestial Sea’ all the way to the north and south ‘Luna Oceans’ across; the ‘Undiscovered West’ planted firmly between the two oceans as a massive land mass dominated by what was once lush forests and mighty mountains. She silently mused her reservations as to what now dominated the landscape; a whole continent of nothing save for deserts and megaspell scars of the old world.

As far as she knew, anyways... only stories and tales -from random travelers no less- came out this far east as even the small communities that arose in Vanhoover, Tall Tale, or New Pegas never ventured into the beyond, for fear of what ‘The Divide’ held in the all but uncharted region.

She planted a hoof on the map, squarely in the scribbled name emblazoned in red hued inks as a radiation symbol hovered above it, and she sighed deeply. “The Divide... is bad news if that’s where the Institute is.”

Sparks turned to Eagle with lingering fear of the coming answer to her question. “What’s the divide?”

“As she said. Bad news. Doesn’t give it justice though if half of what I’ve heard is true.” He stared long and hard with an intensity that showed Sparks he was dead serious. His eyes traced down to The Hoof, nearly opposite of The Divide on the map’s edges, and he mused once again that the map’s cheery little radiation symbol wasn’t nearly enough warning.

“From the rumors I’ve heard The Divide is a section of old Equestria that was far more remote and distant than any other Equestrian land claims. They say that the country only started exploring it in earnest once the power struggle made them desperate for resources, or maybe just more of what they were burning through.” He shifted and grumbled as he poured over the legends around that large unknown, but only one detail was absolute or vaguely certain.

“Equestria supposedly had a staging area for their megaspell facilities there, maybe other types of Ministry buildings and projects; the details are scarce. All I know is they call it ‘The Divide’ because the plains became canyons from underground detonations -whether from Zebra attack or a hugely miscalculated accident no creature knows. It makes it nearly impossible to trek there because those megaspells are still churning to this day.”

Mayor coughed and added to the dilemmas that ponies near it suffer as she spoke lowly, with the words oozing from her with hatred of them. “Thus the ever popular ‘Storms of The Divide’ that tear apart even some of the more distant settlements who are too foolish to move on. Those massive irradiated sandstorms can chew through unprotected ponies in minutes, barricaded settlements in days -if not hours.”

Eagle shook his head in raw disbelief that this was supposed to be the place he was to take her. The Hoof was bad enough, but that at least he understood that was far more of a simpler threat; despite the hearsay of what it held exactly. The Divide’s sheer lack of hard information simply made what was known far more intimidating, and all creatures really knew of it was that those sandstorms could tear the flesh from ponies and all others alike within minutes, with only dragons or other hard-skinned beasts able to withstand them.

Regardless of the creatures within them, the storms left radiation clouds as thick as clicking hot craters from the balefire bombs in their wakes, so the odds were any creature would be dead anyways from sheer exposure. Those storms tainted the very ground, ensuring nothing could live there besides mutants or otherwise that could survive the steeply buzzing cacophony of clicks of rad-counters as their electronics slowly fried from the sheer intensity of it. Nevermind whatever else hid in that canyon... or the region around it.

“If you think for a moment... I’d be willing to head into that clusterfuck of death and radiation... even for eighteen grand -or twenty or twenty five, it doesn’t matter- you’re out of your fucking mind.” Eagle said as he locked eyes with Mayor Madame, his gaze dripping with malicious accusation. She merely shook her head as she figured that’s what he would have said; no mercenary in their right mind would willingly go there without a suicidal death wish.

She didn’t blame him either, as with the revelation even she balked inside at the consideration despite how desperate they needed it. It took Sparks in the end to throw a bone to their hopes and fears as she approached the map, eyes locked with the space they discussed, and nodded her head grimly.

Her expression exuded fear, but she shored her determination to see her mission through. “I’ll go; by myself if I need to. I’ll need a... map route though... and provisions.”

Ward and Mayor both shared a mixture expression, one of utter shock with subtle relief that was smothered by their combined fears of The Divide, but Eagle just scoffed as he spoke mercilessly in a flat gravelly voice. “That place will eat and shit you out dead girl, even if you get that far. There’s more than six hundred miles of raw Wasteland between here and the border -and that isn’t counting detours.”

Sparks shook her head harshly as she got fed up with his mercenary attitude, shooting him her own dangerous glare as she accused him of cowardice. “As I said, ‘Anything for home’ Red Eagle! If I don’t get to the Institute my Stable doesn’t get the gems it needs and The Enclave will press my people down harder than ever! Nevermind whatever the Institute will do when they find out the deal got reneged!”

She began to shout her mind as she threw her hooves around, gesturing to Mayor and Ward and the devastated town beyond and below the broken window; the chilly wind wafting through her filthy and knotted blonde mane and tail.

“Besides, if I don’t leave soon this town will also be screwed! You heard her, Enclave troops will be here in a matter of days if they’re going to be lazy; which they won’t! If they find me or anything related to Thunderhead, even remotely, my Stable suffers hoof in hoof! I can’t let that happen!” She huffed viciously and shook her head in frustration to what she had committed herself too, but as she had said she felt as if she hadn’t a choice. “So I’m heading for The Divide, with or without you! Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll die horribly to some... giant and hungry mutated monster, or get... raped alive by raider fiends until I die of infection!”

“Sparks, just wait a mome-” Eagle said as he tried to interrupt with agitated eyes, but she didn’t relent.

“Why would I wait Eagle!? Why would I!? All I’ve done since I left my Stable is gallop like my life depended on it! Three days of crossing Hoofington with those soldiers then two with you as I betrayed my own conscience because ‘It was necessary’! I’ve only had eight or nine hours of decent sleep this entire week! Why stop now!?”

“Sparks!!”

Eagle shouted harshly, bringing her tangential rant to a screeching halt. She locked her eyes with his, the boiling anger apparent in his gaze and snarling beak. He scoffed, looking off to the side and out beyond the broken window into the wrecked city as his mind was doing cartwheels trying to wrestle with the resurgent emotions. The metaphorical crack in his calloused dam that began when he first laid a talon back in Crystal City had broken to a flooding mayhem of confliction as Sparks’ visage reminded him all too much of Jade.

The passion, the fire in her eyes, the resoluteness to do the right thing while spurning the consequences, all of it sparked a pyre in his thoughts, culminating to one burning decision that he couldn’t understand as subtle wordless voices echoed in his mind fighting for supremacy.

He spoke firmly, grimly, yet a subtle warmth was to be heard in his gravelly voice. “Mayor Madame... by the time I get back I expect the eighteen thousand caps to be collected. Minus what I’m taking for travel provisions. Am I understood?”

Eagle’s words struck a cord of surprise in all of them, and Sparks’ fury ebbed to shock as her expression twisted into bafflement. Her eyes darted to Mayor who was equally stunned. “Y-yes, Red Eagle... Eighteen thousand... I... I cannot thank you eno-”

“No, you can’t. I’m not doing it for you anyway.” Eagle spoke accusingly before sighing with a hard and harsh distant stare as he shook his head. “Unless there’s more Equus shattering business to see to, I’ve got work to do.” Was all Eagle said before he turned and trotted out the door of Mayor’s office with a tense pace, and Sparks traded shocked glances with Ward and Mayor as they did the same.

When he was gone, Mayor let out a deeply held sigh of relief as she limped to her couch and sat down hard; wincing from the searing pain as she spoke. “I... did not expect that...”

Ward gave a grim chuckle as he shook his head, gesturing at Sparks and the direction of Eagle with a hoof. “I never heard of The Divide before, but as... nasty as he made the place sound I’d say you’re lucky Sparks.”

She screwed her face up as she tried to think about anything of her current situation was remotely ‘lucky’, and she voiced it with the last of her anger before it dissipated. “‘Lucky’? How is me tromping through Tartarus going to be in any way lucky?”

Ward gave a grim chuckle before he shook his head and waved a hoof. “No, not that; him goin’ with you, I mean. If I didn’t know better I’d say he probably likes you.” The idea was like a single warm, ashen coal that embedded into her mind. ‘Liked her’? What reason did he have to like her?

“How do you figure Ward?” Mayor said as she voiced the unspoken questions inSparks’ pondering expression, and he shifted in stance as he looked out the door.

“Well... mercs like him tend to get gloomy in old age. Could be he’s... eh I don’t know.” He shook his head as he turned to Mayor and Sparks, a flat expression on his face. “You heard him though, wouldn’t do it for twenty five -or worse. Money like that could buy a palace these days, personal army to boot; what other reason would he have to go to a place like The Divide?”

He nodded as he gestured to Sparks, her eyes deepened with questions around that very topic as he spoke. “The only other factor is you; goin’ there, alone and... well pardon my saying it but ‘naked and afraid’. It’s obvious you’re a newbie out of a Stable, even without the confession. Might be he’s concerned for you.”

Sparks’ eyes displayed the confusion plainly as she hung her head, staring off into distant nothingness as she poured over any reason why he would care. They had only known each other for two days, and while she had been through more ‘excitement’ in those forty eight hours combined than the rest of her life she couldn’t come up with any feasible reasons she could see. “Why would he care though? It’s not like I’ve... done anything for him but patch him up once.”

Ward shrugged with an empty expression, and sighed as he spoke lowly. “I don’t know. As I said, mercs get gloomy with age.”

“Could be even he doesn’t know...” Mayor added, as she shook her head trying to come back down to Equus after the equivalent of a miracle happened for her. Silently thankingSparks she gestured to her with a nod. “Eagle’s right though, the two of you need to prepare. I’ll risk letting the two of you rest up for the night here in town but come morning you have to hit the road.”

She looked to Ward who returned the solemn expression on her face. “Besides, we need to get moving ourselves; town to rebuild and a story to compile for the Enclave troop sure to come. Need our ‘paperwork’ in order, as they’re so fond of putting it.”

Ward nodded and turned around as he dug through the scattered wreck of the Mayor’s office, her eyes lingering with pain on the destroyed state of her once luxurious holdings. Sparks looked at her hooves, examining the dirt, dried blood, and caked mud on them, and the jagged hole in her suit’s sleeve not quite concealing her first terrible injury that she had ever received; replaced by a raw and pinkish, coatless scar beneath it.

She sighed lowly, and tried to run her hoof through her knotted and equally filthy mane and once braided tail; now nothing more than a bedraggled knot of muck and hair. She huffed in frustration as she turned to Mayor with a subtle hope in her voice, and a small smile. “You wouldn’t happen to have a... shower or something here, would you?”

Mayor looked at her as Ward gave a short chuckle, muttering something under his breath that sounded like ‘if only’ but she wasn’t sure. She sighed with a small smile of her own, and pointed a hoof behind her as she spoke. “Well if the... Goddesses, are kind my salon might be intact... You can use it if you want to.” She gave a saddened expression though as her eyes dimmed and her lips curled into a small frown. “No soaps though, I haven’t got any I can spare.”

Sparks looked at her, her eyes beginning to beam at the chance of a real chance to clean herself, not damp cloths swabs or rainstorms but an honest to Goddesses bath. She spoke lively again in her cute voice. “No problem, I’ve got my own.”

Footnote: Red Eagle level 22

Sparks level 4

Chapter 14: What Remains

Chapter 14: What Remains

Sparks stepped her freshly scrubbed hooves from the shower as her naked body ran wet with rivulets of rinsing water. Her entire body felt as if months of tension had been lifted off her, and she let out a deeply held sigh as she used her magic to dry herself with a towel and squeezed streams from her flat and damp brightly blonde mane and tail.

She gave momentary glances at her fresh scar, the raw pinkish flesh where shrapnel had lodged itself into her only an hour ago, and her lingering eyes traced the jagged lines in her slate blue coat along the wound. It gave her mixed feelings as she slumped into ruminations, none of them particularly frightening or pleasing about the injury itself, but the events that transpired for her to receive such a grisly trophy.

The winged unicorn -Lilac as she had named her- and her sadly nameless sisters and their conflicted desire to save, but being unable to as their salvation proved to be only deliverable at the hoofs of atrocity consumed most of her thoughts however. Such a conflict, one that Sparks’ senses were still raw as she continued to turn the idea over in her head had driven her to mental numbness. She couldn’t simply forget for a time as no conclusive idea or suggestion entered her thoughts, and she sighed deeply.

It was quiet for the past twenty minutes, save for the sounds of running water, her hooves in the refurbished ceramic bathtub, and her own groans of agitation as she did her best to brush out her tangled hair. She was successful in that at least, and with her soaps and brush she had packed in an ignorant preparation before she left her home, regarding how many cleaning opportunities would present themselves, she had managed to get herself somewhat clean. Despite the strange and subtle raw feeling the untreated water left her with, her coat and hair were washed of the week’s journey with muck and dirt drained down the pipes, and she felt almost as clean as she was the day she left her Stable.

The near silence agitated her thoughts back into reflections, but the solution to that she felt would only open the floodgates to a far worse spiral of self depreciation. The PipBuck, scrubbed clean as best she could, that lay serenely on her left foreleg and the radio function inside its frame.

More importantly, the DJ Pon3 that was nestled a thousand miles away in some studio with seeming omniscience of the wastelands happenings.

She knew that he would have found out about the attack... somehow, and odds were in her mind that he would be painting them as monsters with her and Red Eagle playing the heroes as he did with the raider fiends. It left a sickening knot of accusation in her mind to the DJ, and to all those she imagined singing her praises and toasting her as Eagle had said. She wanted to go to Manehattan and rip the microphone from DJ Pon3 and scream onto the air... whatever she would say. She had thought about that a few times, about what exactly... but too many desires and ideas came rushing forth into an unintelligible mess of a wholesale rebuke.

She couldn’t see how killing an entire group of ponies was a good thing in any stretch, regardless of how Red Eagle or the DJ or any creature framed it. It was wrong to her, and with Lilac and her sisters they even had a gram of quality she could use to hammer home her self reprimanding. They wanted to help, despite their means.

All this kept her magic locked from her PipBuck’s controls, and the radio silence provided all the quiet in the world to think since she first heard the first news broadcast. She couldn’t do more than ruminate as she mechanically dried herself off with her now damp towel, her slate blue coat somewhat fluffed and nearly silky with her soaps providing most of the only comfort available to her.

As she continued to scrub herself dry, her eyes trailed over herself as she inspected for missed clumps of dampness and dirt, and eventually her eyes locked with the cutie mark displayed brazenly on her flanks now free of her armor and Stable suit; a symbol whose very obscured nature to her puzzled her ever since her flanks exploded in a showering frenzy of sparkling magics and destiny.

It was shaped like a lightning bolt with a snake coiling around it, but in an uncommon fashion with cutie marks its style was geometric with sharp angles and contrasts she likened to old prewar artistic decorations. The Bolt itself, ebon brown with bronze highlights on the edges matched the snake’s, with the center of the bolt blazing a bright, almost electric blue smaller bolt that highlighted the mark.

Even ever since she was almost thirteen when she received her calling, and with all the C.A.T. results -Cutie-mark Aptitude Test- before and after she got it in her Stable’s so called extensive sciences in one of the most arguably mundane magics of equinity, it was still a subtle enigma of pony normalcy for her. Everypony eventually got one, she knew, and almost all of them that she had seen were simple, direct even, and it laid a clear path for their bearers.

For her though, it only replaced the questions every foal asks before their cutie mark reveals itself in their flanks, and her short lived reverie ebbed away to confusion that no scholarly type in her Stable could remedy; only providing ‘maybes’ and speculation that served Sparks to no benefit. The religious types even more so as she remembered then, chuckling.

She sighed as she wiped the marks with her towel, and she brought herself to her hooves and packed away her small amount of bathing supplies; a bar of soap, toothbrush and paste, and her hairbrush. The bag they nestled in was a small, but luckily waterproof, toiletries bag that she returned to her drenched saddlebag.

She turned to her unwashed and armored Stable suit, still drenched in a twisted mixture of muddy water, sweat, and blood; the once vivid blue and gold trim fading under the duress it had received over the week. She was understandably hesitant to don it again, and left it hanging on the coat rack as it dripped away all its clinging fluids to a puddle on the floor below it.

She emerged from the mayor’s ‘salon’, which felt more like a simple bathroom to Sparks than the name implied, and trotted out the hallway to the now evening darkened view of Mayor Madame’s office. The only signs of life below were lights from lamps or bulbs, and they silhouetted forms of ponies as they bustled even in the dark to rebuild their lives.

The chilly wind from beyond the shattered wall sized window cut through Sparks’ naked and damp form, and with a shiver shooting through her body she looked around for a blanket or robe... or anything she could wear to keep the wind from her. She found none after being cut short by Mayor Madame’s sudden unexpected speech, starling her to a small jumping surprise. “Nice isn’t it, the luxury of something as simple as a shower?”

Sparks turned around as another gust of wind cut through her body in the same manner as the first, her mane and tail fluttering in clumped together damp strands in the wind as a fierce shiver shook her body. She saw Mayor standing there, a slightly black blotched once vividly scarlet robe around her disheveled form supported by a crutch under a fore leg.

She had another similarly colored housecoat over her back as she wore an expression of compassion; a subtle edge of jealousy lay in her eyes though. “Here, you must be coldSparks.”

She turned to the side, offering for her to take the gown, and she did so eagerly wrapping its almost silky thick cotton form around her with her magic. It was comfortable to her, and she would have practically levitated from the floor if it wasn’t for her solemn smile. “Thanks...”

Mayor sighed as she turned back around and made efforts to reach her desk, the body wracking pain apparent in her limbs as she hobbled with her crutch. Sparks’ eyes examined her from hoof to head, and for a moment her mind mused that she herself had been lucky to escape with nothing but a single injury. Mayor Madame had fractured and broken several bones, and a small litany of abrasions and lacerations lined her bandaged body.

Even with the care she had already given her she seemed to be marginally better than when Sparks first saw her, and she spoke with a clearly concerned voice as her expression matched. “Mayor, how are you feeling? I can give you some PainAway if it you want.”

Mayor snickered, and with an expression of shooting pain her grin became a grimace. She shook her head and sighed before speaking low. “I’m not even sure I want some painkillers, it’d be great to not feel like crap every time I breathe, but... I need my senses clear for the next while...” She shrugged her shoulders lightly with a lethargic pace before donning a small smile of gratitude. “But, thanks Sparks... You’ve done a lot already, I can’t rightly ask for more.”

She nodded as she wore her own small smile to match Mayor’s, and Sparks drew the robe tighter around herself as another surge of wind threw scattered papers and debris around the destroyed office. Mayor scowled at the broken window as she shook her head, eyes becoming hard and squinted as she spoke. “Nothing like The Wasteland to make you remember how good life was before tearing it away... I never thought something as simple as broken glass would be a pain in my neck.”

She shuffled around papers and set down paperweights to keep them from flying away from the desk before her as Sparks walked up to the massive shattered remains of the window. She gazed out to the city below and her eyes traced out the crowds of ponies who gathered around the beaming lights, a mixture of campfires and torches, sparkle cell flashlights and lanterns were slowly being added to the glow; the bright orange-white silhouettes of ponies growing, albeit slowly.

Despite the fact that she couldn’t see much to begin with, she couldn’t make out if Eagle was down there with them. She turned to Mayor, who was hard at work scribbling something with a pen in her mouth onto a piece of paper before her, and Sparks spoke up with a caution in her voice that she couldn’t place. “Where’s Red Eagle at?”

Mayor set the pen down after trying to answer it herself, and she spoke with confusion in her words. “Well... after he left I really don’t know where he would have gone. Maybe he went to trade with our stores or...” she rubbed a hoof on her chin trying to guess his mind, but drawing a blank until she had an idea as to where he may have gone. “He... might be in that bar he lodged in when he first came here; a little saloon of sorts, down in the western locker rooms.”

She sat up slightly and made eye contact with Sparks, making directional gestures with a hoof. “Alright, you’re going to want to take the elevator down and cross the high stands down to the edge of the market square, make a left and follow the alleyway until you see a big neon sign; one with some poorly drawn yaks on it. Vadim’s bar is where Red Eagle might be.”

Sparks absorbed the directions fairly well until her focus seized on ‘yaks’. She had heard of them, but as always she had never seen one; only heard descriptions of them in history classes. She voiced her confusion, expression matching. “Yaks? Big and, well...hairy?”

Mayor nodded once, and gave a small grin edged with distaste plainly shown in her tones. “Yeah, and loud by the way -that’s a yak for you. We have two residential yaks and, coincidentally, they both live there; pushing liquor and bunks for caps.” She gave a small chuckle that caused her subtle pains, and with an irked groan she held her head up with a hoof. “But... yes, I think Eagle might have gone to the bar. Probably to sauce himself after today; I wouldn’t blame him though.”

Sparks’ thoughts lingered for a moment on her words, and nodded before giving the robe wrapped tightly around her a glance as concerns for it grew. “Thanks Mayor, I’ll be heading out to find him. Do you want your robe back? I might get it dirty out there...”

Her timid voice and small chuckle brought a grin to Mayor’s face, and she shook her head as she spoke. “If you want to, you can keep it. Consider it a ‘thank you’ gift...” she gestured a hoof to her right, toward the back rooms before she spoke barely above a whisper. “I have more, anyways...”

Mayor’s eyes searched Sparks up and down, taking in her visage and musing that the robes suited her; the dark burgundy strangely complimented her blue slate and blonde palette. A small smile drew out her lips and a sigh followed, and with a sudden question in her mind she tilted her head raising a brow. "What about your Stable suit, or the rest of your pack? I don't see it with you."

Sparks’ expression shot to a small confusion of her own before the comment registered, and she cracked an embarrassed laugh after she glanced to either side of her. She rubbed the side of her head with a hoof up as if she was treading eggshells. “Oh! Right, heh heh, yeah I almost forgot...” she placed the hoof on her chest and took a slow and deep breath as she spoke self consciously. “I uh... wanted to ask if anypony had a... a laundromat in town, or something. My clothes are kind of...”

“Soaked?” Mayor interrupted, finishing Sparks’ sentence leaving her jaw hanging slack. She giggled as she nodded her head side to side with an embarrassed smile, subtly amazed on just dirty her effects were.

“Yeah, among other things; filthy, ragged... ugh!” she made a slight gagging sound as she stuck her tongue out, and collected herself as she gave Mayor a pleading smile. “Sooo... can anypony help?”

Mayor put a hoof to her chin as she played coy, and with a smile she nodded shortly after, speaking amusedly. “I can see to it, don’t worry Sparks.”

She let out a breath she wasn’t aware of holding, and the sigh of relief brought a small joy to her face; a beaming smile crossing her lips. “Thanks! You’re a lifesaver Mayor!”

“No, you are. Don’t forget it, you helped save our town. The least I can do is wash your clothes.”

Mayor’s words hit Sparks in much the same manner as all the praise she had so far received, and her smile ebbed into a somber expression that Mayor was confused to see.Sparks sighed, and gave a faux smile. Mayor wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t press her. “Well... thank you Mayor Madame, I’m going to... go find Eagle.”

They exchanged nods and as Sparks left her office, and Mayor let out a sigh of exasperation. She didn’t understand why Sparks seemed so resistant to accepting praise, especially the kind most Wastelanders would be eager to garner for themselves, but in the end she, perhaps in half ignorance, figured it might just be a Stable dweller thing; an affect of their isolated culture and such. She shrugged the thought away and returned to her work, kneading a sore and tense muscle to relax as she picked up her pen again and began scribbling away at a piece of paper before her.

*** *** ***

Sparks’ long ride down the rickety elevator system gave her no comfort as the random pops and spring loaded sounds of stressed metal tore her eyes away from the small splendor of civilization below. The camps were growing larger by the minute it seemed, with bonfires rising and beating back the darkness with fluttering columns of white-orange might. Around them, however, was a sight far more comforting than any she had seen.

The black silhouettes of ponies nearly uncountable from her vantage that bustled and communed around the fires, tending to the injured or passing plates of food around the pyres, wrapping blankets around the shivering forms and singing hushed lullabies to lull the foals to sleep; simply put, caring for everypony in the wake of destruction.

The sight brought a small and weak, guttering but oddly warm hope in her bosom as a grin crossed her lips. After such a terrible atrocity they still persevered and, much like their ancestors before them going all the way back to when The War razed civilization, stubbornly survived despite the odds and horrors the balefire forged deserts of Equestria held for them. That tiny hope flowered against the frigid whipping wind, girding her senses against the untrustworthy nature of the elevator she rode, and the small smile grew to genuinely warm her heart despite how terrible her short time was in The Wasteland.

That hope, however, despite growing strong, was dashed a hair by the passing thanks and subtle wayward stares of ponies; their expressions an awkward mixture of gratitude and uneasiness, and both caused Sparks to return her own awkward smiles and nods. The seeming uneasiness or disdain was what gave her pause, and confusion wracked her as to why they would wear such expressions.

As she made her way through the crowd of ponies a sudden jarring sound ripped her from her ruminations. The cantankerous litany of what sounded like a metallic roar of steel on steel caused her to jump and turn in the direction of the noise. It was off in some distant, unfamiliar corner of the stadium, and after a curiosity seized her mind she cantered off into the direction of the sound, her eyes darting around as she tried to keep her freshly washed form out of the muddy pools of water that remained.

Sparks managed to reach the source of the noise, and to her surprise she found that the racket sounded from the terribly overexerted gate as its mechanism rebelled against the guardsponie’s commands. There were four ponies there, two earth ponies with their battle saddles at the ready and two unicorns whose horns fizzled and popped as they exerted their full magical strength on the massive gate, albeit failing to lift the gate.

Sparks in a near instant realized that the patterns of the magical auras displayed the threat of burn out, and she suddenly wondered if the gate’s mechanisms needed magical aid to lift properly. Her Questions were short lived however as an earth pony mare, her disheveled and short cropped teal mane and tail crowning her dirty white coat and armor, the latter bearing a five pointed star, turned around and after glancing at Sparks’ horn thrust a hoof at her as she barked orders.

“Help them lift the gate, they don’t have the ass to do it themselves!” Sparks stood there wide eyed and flustered at being thrust into the spotlight, and she found out the hard way that the guardsmare had no patience for her confusion. “Lift the gate!! Come on!!”

Her shouting reprimand sprung Sparks into sudden action as she darted ahead and all her focus was poured into her horn’s magic. Her cyan aura of magic adding a solid sheen to the puttering prismatic gradient of green and yellow, and it created an odd mixture of colors as the door’s mechanical cacophony lessened. The strain was immense on her head, like her horn was throbbing and threatening to tear itself from her skull as if she was the sole force moving the gate. Sweat beads managed to emerge despite the chilly evening air; her face screwing up in the effort.

Inch by inch however, the gate relented and nestled open after the chorus of strained half shouts of the unicorns forcing it open. Left panting and gasping for air Sparks and the rest of the ponies at the gate peered out into the darkness with a single pale green light piercing the bleak beyond.

The light emanated from within the cabin of the chariot that she and Eagle, along with Tato and Green, had rode from The Hoof all the way to the outskirts of town, and with a stunned mixture of gasps and expressions of surprise the guardsponies around Sparks stared slack jawed at the sight.

Eagle opened his door and hung his head out, half shouting to the stunned group as he adjusted his black hat. “It’s just me! Found this in The Hoof!”

The guardsmare with the badge was the first to speak, but her voice was shaky in her confusion. “Where the hell did you find that!? Great Goddesses Red Eagle, we don’t even have roads and you expect to drive that through town!?”

Eagle gave a single grim chuckle as the guardsmare threw her hooves in angered gestures at the machine, and shook his head. “I want to take it to your scrap dealer. Wondering what she’d give for it!”

The guardsmare let out an agitated sigh as she face-hoofed, and repeated herself with an accusing stare. “As I said, no roads!”

“You of all ponies here ought to know somewhere I can park it then for the time being!” Eagle snapped at her as his gravelly voice boomed over the cacophony of the chariot’s engine.

The guardsmare balked, shook her head and waved her hoof as she turned around groaning. “Alright then, calm down! Follow me, and watch where you’re goin’!”

As the group parted to let the wide chariot through, all the gathered guardsponies stared in awe of the noisy racket emitting machine as if it was an alien contraption. None of them had seen one, moving and operational at least, and the gasps and expressions several of them displayed gave cause to follow the machine staring like foals at a magic show.

Sparks wiped her forehead beneath her horn with a sleeve of her robe as the group was reduced to her and the two unicorns. Letting out a deep chested sigh, she turned to her side with a grin and spoke to one of them. “Whew, that... that thing’s definitely heavy! How do you manage to-”

Sparks’ eyes locked onto the deep and milky orbs of what at first she wanted to scream in response to seeing, but her voice was locked as she saw what she could only describe as an utterly repulsive... zombie pony? Had she her senses she would have remembered Eagle’s Wasteland lessons about what he referred to as ‘ghouls’, only for a precious few seconds her vision was rapt in utter horror to the peeling flesh, stringy orange mane crowned face set with those featureless milky orbs.

To top it all off, the zombie pony grinned wide, bearing a set of yellowed half rotten teeth that had more gums than bone, as it -she?- spoke in a delightful voice that Sparkscould’ve sworn had no business emanating from such a grotesque creature.

“Well normally it isn’t so hard to manage, but after that fight practically all our unicorns are burned out. Usually me and Gale here can manage-”

The beautifully voiced ghoul pony caught Sparks’ horrified stare, one she had seen so many times before only on such a level she hadn’t. Her milky orb-eyes looked Sparks up and down, her gaze seeing the PipBuck that lay on Sparks’ foreleg, and tried to don an expression of compassion; albeit failing utterly in both form and function for Sparks’ sake.

“Oh! You’re the Stable mare everyponies talking about right!? If so, I’ll forgive the staring. Odds are you haven’t seen one of my kind before...”

“Uh- Y-y-yeah! I... um, I-I-I have h-heard of... of ghouls before b-but...” Sparksstammered fiercely as her fright clashed with embarrassment, her blue-slate cheeks blushing hot red as her eyes couldn’t decide which details of the ghoul to focus on before planting her gaze firmly on her hooves. “I-I-I-I’m... s-s-so sorry ma’am...”

The ghoul laughed cheerily in an admittedly adorable squeaky voice, and she shook her head and held out a hoof in greeting. “Don’t worry! I’m used to it... My name’s Desse, short for Decibel Ensemble; it’s a pleasure to meet our city’s savior!”

Sparks saw on the top of her vision the flesh molted and cracked hoof that Desse extended, and it took all her control to return the gesture, unable to escape her wide eyed nervous expression as her hoof touched the rotten member in hesitance. “G-Good to meet y-y-you too, D-Desse! I’m... ah, m-my n-n-name’s Sparks!”

The cheery demeanor of Desse was all that kept Sparks from bolting there and then as she spoke, along with all the lifelong lessons of manners and civility -politeness and such. Desse shook her hoof vigorously and with a half toothy smile she nodded, bobbing her stringy mane in the gesture.

“That’s a pretty name you have! Stable ponies usually do, I knew one a long time ago who had such a gorgeous name and, well...” She coughed, clearing her throat with a phlegmy racket before her milky eyes rolled in embarrassment. “Nevermind that, tangential tendencies and all, happens when the years start piling on, ahem... Anyways, how’re you liking our town so far? I know it’s... ah, ‘amenities’ aren’t at full strength for, well... obvious reasons, but I’d still like to hear your thoughts!”

Sparks flustered for a moment as she fought with her staring eyes to say something nice, especially since she hadn’t really been in the town yet; not truly. She waved her hoof around, gesturing as her tongue was twisted and her eyes avoiding Desse’s form. “Ah... w-weeell... I’m rather, f-fond of the... ah... um...” Her eyes saw the massive door behind her, and she thrust her hoof towards it. “The door! It’s a... a n-nice gate! K-kinda reminds me of m-my Stable’s b-big... well, door.”

Sparks tried to put on a smile to show sincerity, but her nervous expression dashed any hopes of her belief. She sighed after Desse raised a brow maintaining a smile. “I-I’m sorry... but I haven’t been here long enough t-to... um, get to know the town... all that well... Besides I, uh... me and Eagle kinda... well, blew up a bunch a stuff too...”

Desse let out a snickering chuckle, and shook her head still bearing that wide and sweetly rotten smile. “Well, at least you’re being honest... Stick around for a while and sure as rain we’ll have this town back up in no time! Then we’ll see what your opinion is; and don’t think you and Mister Eagle blowing up a few buildings is bad, because those... winged unicorn things, did more damage. The two of you didn’t kill any of us.”

Desse put a hoof on Sparks’ shoulder, the expression she fought not to pull away from, and she sighed shaking her head. “Well... we’re going to be leaving tomorrow... I’m sorry to say. Can’t stay since The-” She caught herself mid sentence, her eyes going wide as she kept herself from divulging any sensitive information to their mission; or the possible fate of Crystal City soon to come. She coughed a little, and a small grin spread on her lips. “Since... We’re -I’m-... needed elsewhere. This was just a stop for me -us!”

Desse’s milky eyes locked onto Sparks’ and the void of expression in them made it hard for Sparks to discern whether or not she believed her. Shortly after though Desse nodded her head and her smile grew wider, revealing more of her stained teeth. “Don’t worry then, I’m sure you can come by some time in the future! We’ll have had time to iron out the kinks -so to speak- by then anyways!” she closed her eyes and nodded, putting a hoof to her own chest as she spoke. “Do take care on the road Sparks, stay safe. It’d be a shame for something awful to happen to you.”

“I... I’ll try my best, thanks Desse.”

“Think nothing of it friend!” Sparks looked from her to the unicorn guardsmare beside her, Gale according to Desse, and she nodded to Sparks with a short hoof gesture, a short flourish and touching her chest. Desse looked to Gale and gave a short nervous chuckle, turning back to Sparks with a smile. “Yeah, she can’t talk... she said ‘Good luck’.”

Sparks had a flash of recognition and nodded, bearing her own genuine smile. “Thanks, you too in the whole... rebuilding the town... thing.”

Gale nodded with a grin, and motioned her head in the direction where the guardsmare and Eagle went, the cantankerous machine having long since passed them by.Sparks’ eyes turned and looked in their direction, and a sudden remembrance flashed across her. “Oh right! Yeah, I need to catch up with Eagle. Take care!”

They exchanged smiles and nods before Sparks bolted away in a mad dash, both to catch up with the chariot and to make distance between her and Desse with subtle self-hating thoughts that she felt so strongly disgusted. Desse and Gale watched her gallop away, and with a smirk combined with squinted eyes she nudged Desse with her knee, holding her hoof up before her.

“Alright, fine... you win that bout.” Was all she said in an agitated voice before slapping a small sack of caps in Gale’s outstretched hoof, bearing a scowl as she did so. Gale simply bore a smug grin and gestured her hoof around more in seemingly pattern lacking motions, much to Desse’s displeasure as she pouted. “Yes, I know. Stable ponies. No need to rub it in...”

She turned around and eyed the massive gate behind them and gave Gale a retorting smirk of her own, her ghoulish lips teeming with pleasure. “Now... we have to close this ourselves, ready?” Gale’s expression shot from smugness to dread, and another flourishing gesture followed. “Uh uh! No complaining! You’re the one who sent her off. Now keep it steady!”

*** *** ***

Sparks followed the deep, trench like tracks of the chariot through the back alleys of town and found they led to a small garage of sorts, the slated door flung open, and inside she saw Red Eagle standing there speaking to another pony. An earth pony mare wearing a grease stained leather apron with a wild mane and strange stare in her eyes as her gaze shot between her griffon guest and the chariot before them.

Both of them were surrounded by heaps of scrapped parts and metallic pieces of strange mechanical design that lined the walls with scattered tools here and there, including wrenches, ratchets, sockets and so forth in a haphazard lack of pattern. Among the detritus asSparks’ wandering eyes found were half smudged, but proudly lurid posters and calendars depicting ponies, mostly mares, in erotic fashions plastered on the concrete walls among a litany of other paper scraps. With a deep blush she approached the flung open door, carefully avoiding patches of mud and pools of water, and their conversation inched its way into her hearing.

“-mean to tell me that raider fiend fuck-heads were clever enough for this?” The mare said, her speech confused and accusatory. Eagle just shook his head, scoffing before he spoke.

“You think I know? They had it and I took it, they could’ve stolen it or something.” He gave a long stare at the machine, and his eyes glanced at Sparks in the corner of his eye as she approached in the distance, his gaze subtly angered. His scarred beak twitched before he turned back to the pony. “I’m inclined to believe they stole it, considering they raided other gangs. Doesn’t matter though; I’ve got it now and I’m asking you how much you’ll pay for it.”

The mare screwed her face up as she tried to understand, and shook her head as her eyes traced the chariot’s body up and down from wheels to roof. “Why the hell would you want to sell it though? You know how many po- erm, creatures would kill for a working chariot!?”

Her eyes examined the vehicle in detail, putting a hoof on a fender staring long at the machinery inside the wheel well. “Nevermind one so extensively modified... or useable for us ‘dirt-trotters’. No need for a pegasus to operate...”

Eagle just groaned under his breath, and scratched his beak with a talon before his voice emanated with an agitated tone. “Look, long story short I’m better on my paws, and these things require parts and resources for upkeep. Not to mention they’re loud and the exact opposite of inconspicuous.”

The mare just held a hoof up and bobbed it slightly before she met eyes with Eagle again. “All right all right, just strange is all... You never see these things moving and folk tend to keep these things like this under major lock and key.”

She paused, tapping a hoof to her chin before her eyes shot up in a wild stare and startle as Sparks knocked on the garage’s sheet metal siding. “Hey every creature, how’s it going?” Sparks said with a warm smile, but it was met with silence and a dangerous glare from the mechanic mare.

“Damn girl, don’t sneak up on ponies like that! Shit!” she put a grease clumped hoof to her forehead, leaving a smudge of it on her brow as she breathed deeply. “Who the fuck are you?” The mechanic said, glowering at Sparks, and she had to shake her head free of the blunt nature of the question.

“I’m... um... Sparks ma’am, pleased to meet you!”

Recognition flashed across her eyes, but her expression remained sour as she turned around to continue eyeing the chariot in her garage. “Ah yes, our ‘savior’ probably making the rounds. Crock of shit if you ask me...”

Sparks’ expression twisted up in confusion to her words, and before she could retort or ask questions Eagle cut in waving a talon. “Alright, how much?”

The mechanic mare once again scratched her chin and in exasperation sighed as she turned back to Eagle, speaking flatly and to-the-point.

“Look Red Eagle, I can’t say for certain. Normally I’d say nothing simply because chariots need pegasi to run. This though, being rigged for cabin driving, bit and all, means anypony could drive it. That alone shoots the price up a thousand, maybe more. That ain’t even considering the internals like the cylinders, arcano-tech matrix, talismans, power alternator, the transmission, and a whole lot of other parts and pieces that just aren’t common.

“I’d have to get a look at specific parts and components before I can give you a number. There’s just too much in this... this thing to determine now.” She didn’t seem phased when Eagle locked eyes with her wearing a glowering agitation, and she sighed again before trying to reassure him. “Alright, tell you what. For you, I’ll give this baby a once over tonight and give you a number. I need to eye the details and all that shit, just give me until morning okay?”

Eagle grumbled and gave a few second’s contemplation before locking eyes with her again, speaking in a level voice. “Until morning is all you’ve got. We’re hitting the road come sunrise.”

The mare nodded her head wearing a scowl that betrayed her agitated thoughts. “Then we got a deal, now leave me to my work.”

Eagle turned around with a scowl of his own as he made a decent pace to leave the shop, avoiding the scatters bits of parts acting as caltrops in his path and passing Sparkswithout a word as she watched him leave the shop. Sparks turned and waved a hoof at the mechanic with an awkward smile, who didn’t return the gesture and scoffed, and she turned back to Eagle and trotted after him trying her best to avoid the muck.

She sidled up next to Eagle who kept his eyes ahead, and she panted a little and smiled as she spoke to him. “Hey Eagle, I’ve been looking for you!”

He scoffed under his breath as he kept his pace, winding this way and that through the evening darkened alleyways that bore only scattered lights for passage. He shook his head he spoke low and flatly, his gravelly voice showing agitation. “I’ve no doubt.”

He spared a glance at Sparks, his sharp blue eyes droned her from head to hooves, and abruptly turning back ahead without a flicker of warmth in his coarse voice. “While you’ve been cleaning up I went and got the chariot, if that wasn’t obvious. We don’t have much bunk time as it is and we still need to stock up on essentials.”

His eyes squinted as he grumbled again, his mind locked on preparation. “Can’t know how much these ponies will be willing to part with on ‘credit’. Food, ammunition, medical, all of it is up for grabs at this point. Less than eight or nine hours before we need to move.”

Sparks struggled to keep pace with Eagle’s seeming warpath, and she cracked a small smile trying to calm him down if only slightly. “I’m sure we’ll manage, don’t worry about-”

“You don’t get it do you?” Eagle snapped at her with a dark glower that seized Sparks’ words almost instantly; her eyes widened and smile disappeared. “This isn’t some milk run half mile trot we’re talking about. If we can’t get what we need here, at least enough to get to the next town, we’re dead in the water. With so few reliable towns between here and The West we can’t afford carelessness. You should have more than enough reason to be tearing your mane out in a panic with this little ‘quest’ of yours.”

He reared his head back, locked his dangerously fuming eyes with hers and he stopped cold in the alleyway. “Our quest, I should say; basically volunteering me for the fucking job.”

Sparks stammered for a moment, and a nervous expression spread across her face as she spoke. “W-what do you mean I volunteered you?”

“Don’t play coy with me. Your little heroic and blindly ignorant display is what I mean. You know you wouldn’t manage the journey by yourself, and charging into hell has a tendency to drag folk with you; idiots too enamored by foolishness to see they’re committing effective suicide.”

Eagle turned back, kept his eyes forward and resumed his previous pace as Sparks’ mind was trying to understand him. Bafflement became a subtle anger and her expression twisted to match. She galloped up next to him and all but shouted at him. “I didn’t volunteer any creature! I told you, my Stable need this! I don’t have a choice!”

“So nothing more than the march of duty? Count yourself among the idiots following ideals and heroism because those two words have killed more creatures across the world than you will ever know girl. Remember that little ‘heart-warming’ speech I gave about getting burned for trying? You won’t even remotely stop at ‘burns’, this is a full scale suicide mission.”

Sparks’ anger boiled to a full scale wrath that she could barely contain. She knew full well how bleak the outlook was on her mission, but her own ideals he so blatantly tossed aside as foolishness and calling her an idiot for trying ran raw a nerve, and it birthed a sudden fury. “How would you know Eagle!? So far I’ve only heard-”

“Because I’ve been on one before!! I’ve seen firsttalon what happens when-” Eagle snapped of a sudden; his pace seized as his furious expression choked his words mid sentence, and he scoffed as he faced away from her startled expression. He sighed deeply, and turned to face her again, speaking low and dangerously. “And I must be an idiot too; going back into mad ventures -not only once but twice- for fucking caps.”

He turned to continue trotting off, and he muttered under his breath as he trotted on. “I never should have come here again.”

Sparks stood there, her eyes wide and her mind baffled as she didn’t know what to think. Her thoughts passed each other faster than she could make sense of it, and she voiced the only curiosity she could; the fury replaced by a strange concern she couldn’t place. “What do you mean ‘again’?”

“This conversation’s over; we don’t have time for it. Once we’re stocked up we’re going to get some shuteye. We both sorely need it.”

Sparks followed after him; her confusion slowly unraveling bits and pieces of the mangled ball of yarn that represented their entire exchange, only making no progress towards understanding. She sighed and hung her head low as she trotted close behind Eagle without the strength to press the issue. Unvoiced questions like ‘He had done something like this once’ mingled in transience with ‘Why is he even going with me then if he doesn’t want to’.

Some deep part of her refused to believe it was for the money, but she couldn’t be certain as his entire character was so alien to her, so foreign in nature that she simply couldn’t decide what would be his price for leading her through The Wasteland.

Among all her thoughts, however, was a sudden wave of tiredness that Eagle seemed to have summoned, as if on cue, and her eyes began to droop, vision blurring as she yawned against the sleep deprived nature of her time on the surface. She wanted to sleep, but a small wonder grew if she even would get the chance; provided her head ever met a pillow tonight. The drive Red Eagle had made her question if she even would get the chance, but restless nights mounted against her ever since she was made witness to The Wasteland’s horrors.

Unfortunately for her, a small concern grew in her mind, almost subconsciously, that her journey wasn’t nearly complete. Images flashed in her mind of the large maps of Equestria, spanning coast to coast, summarizing hundreds of thousands of square miles of hellish landscapes, and all the unseen terrors it must have held. She balked inside at the prospect of seeing it all, and hoped silently she never would, but her own ideals held her fast to keep her promises.

‘Anything for home’ was what she told her Overmare, her family and friends, and now Red Eagle and practically all of Crystal City as her oaths began to be regretted with a mountain of seemingly insurmountable obstacles mounting. The unfathomable truth of how daunting her task was seemed to grow with each worry, each hesitation; only she continued to gird herself against it, even if it was lying to herself that she was ready.

She wasn’t, but she had made a promise.

‘Anything... for home.’

Footnote: Red Eagle level 22

Sparks level 4

Chapter 15: Way back Home

Chapter 15: Way Back Home

Red Eagle and Sparks spent the next thirty minutes or so in the market square, with a mixture of arguing and trying to convince the merchant ponies to honor Mayor Madame’s deal with them providing the bulk of their discourse. Some were hesitant to part with their goods simply because they weren’t sure they were telling the truth, others outright claimed they were lying or couldn’t spare the resources in the wake of the attack, much to Eagle’s agitation. In the end, however, most gave up scant few supplies with reluctance and parting glares and scowls.

A precious few actually gave them things outright regardless of their actual value, to Eagle’s unvoiced surprise and Sparks’ incessant thanks, to which the ponies in question merely shook their heads, thanking them for having helped them survive with warm smiles. Before long, they had saddlebags full of miscellaneous oddments worth little to Eagle other than trade goods.

They had an ammunition restock between Eagle’s three-fifty-seven and three-o-eight cartridges and Sparks’ micro sparkle cells, precious little food in ration form, some water for their canteens, and little else of true use on the road. The most interesting gift being some rare doctor’s tools when Sparks told the local doctor pony that she was a practitioner of the healing arts; much to the doctor’s surprise as he offered spare tools that Sparks marveled at as she had seen some in her magazines before.

As they passed from one stall to the next, Sparks thought that Eagle wouldn’t be pleased with any amount of goods he procured from the townsponies, and she was right at least partially. He knew how dangerous the journey was, and no amount of supplies he could ever carry would comfort his worries about journeying so far away from his experience, nevermind the worries of the actual destination. Despite it though, He gave up trying to wrangle more out of the town, and his bags, along with an extra set of saddlebags given to Sparks as a gift, were laden with enough to give him some small piece of mind; enough to get them from Crystal City to the next town at least.

That very question, however, resounded in his mind. What path they would take and which places they would play metaphorical hop-scotch to reach The Divide? With nearly a thousand miles of empty Wasteland with precious settlements few and far between and several paths they could take to get there the question agitated him beyond belief.

Despite his desire to wash his claws of the ordeal and leave he felt some unseen tether fastening him to it, the reasons numerous and all of them fueling a simmering anger inside him. Time after time though his mercenary attitude resumed his drive to see it through, yet it was that very attitude being the driving force to be rid of the entire situation.

A frequent and resounding ‘fuck it’ echoed in his mind. He would do as he had always done in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. Make it up as he went along, only this time an outrage grew in him as concern for his new charge exhumed his long buried convictions.

He wasn’t doing this alone; he wasn’t risking only his own life, but two with his antics, and the fact he still cared about that niggling little detail made his brow furrow immensely. He was used to being alone, free to risk his own life as he saw fit, and for the last twenty odd years it worked out well enough for him, but now he remembered vividly why he hated having a tag along of any kind.

The prospect of more death on his conscious.

*** *** ***

It was nearly ten thirty on Sparks’ PipBuck by the time she and Red Eagle had made their way to the proudly named ‘Vadim and Mikael’s Dug-Out Bar & Inn’. The crudely fashioned and color mashed neon sign, accurate to Mayor Madame’s description, with reds and blues as well as purples clashing together into a confused gradient that made their eyes sore just by staring at it.

Outside the bar she heard the low din within, and at times her nose twitched from passing aromas and odors she couldn’t place as she and Eagle stared at the entrance. He let out a sigh, with eagerness for drink and shuteye apparent in his longing, yet loathing gaze. He began to speak low and level, peeking at her from the corner of his eyes before fixing them back on the sign fixtures surrounding the door.

“A little bar wisdom?” Sparks peered at him with a soured face from the smoky fumes that emanated from within; her brows raised and her eyes held fast on him with a foul expression as he continued speaking. “Try to keep to yourself. Don’t accept drinks ponies in there give you unless they buy you one from the bar, especially if they’re already opened. That’s a drugging or poisoning waiting to happen. More importantly though is don’t drink too much, I doubt you know your limit and probably have never been drunk before anyways. I don’t want to have to carry you out of town come morning with you groaning in my ear.”

Sparks gave a small chuckle, and rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry about me getting... eh, drunk... I’ve never had much alcohol.”

Eagle nodded once, and sighed as he thought of anything else that might help. Remembering that Vadim was within and his bombastic nature he figured she might do well to know about him beforehoof. “Also... don’t be surprised when a huge yak in there gets excited to see you. He’s definitely a... creature person. He’ll probably talk your ears off about having saved to town.” Eagle’s beak twitched a little as he shifted his weight over to one set of legs, and he sighed after looking around the town behind them before continuing. “He’ll even be honest about it, unlike some ponies here.”

Sparks had been curious about that very detail herself, as with nearly every pony they spoke with a precious few bore genuine smiles to her judgment. A small, but perplexing detail that had her confusion building and building ever since she and Eagle left the mechanic mare’s garage. She very much wanted answers in that regard, but she would have been happy with just a bed as she fought back a yawn. “Yeah... I’ve been wondering about...”

“-Why everypony here has been giving us wayward stares? I’ve a suspicion but... this is different somehow.”

Eagle’s beak twitched again with a nearly audible sniffle as his eyes drilled the door before them, and he spread his wings out and stretched his body out with several hollow cracks of cartilage from his shoulders and neck. As ready as he could be he approached the door, grasped the lever knob, and breeched the seal that contained the noxious fumes. An indiscernible cloud of smoke, alcohol from beer to liquors, and the stench of unwashed bodies and what she could only describe as urine barreled out in buckets as Sparks visibly gagged on the scent.

Eagle reared his head back and had to stifle a chuckle, a nearly invisible smirk growing across his scarred beak in a sort of wicked vengeance. “Oh this should be good.”

Sparks fought back a reflexive gag that would have promised vomit, and balked with a wildly unbelieving expression as she stared through the bar’s open door into the dimly lit smoky atmosphere within. Holding a hoof to her nose, she spoke nasally. “Oh great Goddesses, what is that smell?!”

“That, Sparks, is called the welcome mat.” Eagle sucked in a lung full of the nauseating fumes, and with a half groaning exhale a smirk crossed his beak, shaking his head as he entered. “Never complete without one. Come on.”

As they entered the bar the harsh overhead beacons that refracted in the mesmerizing clouds of hanging smoke clashed vividly with the subtle darkness, creating entire gaps inSparks’ vision. As they passed into the bar proper the low din of townsponies within with most, if not all, taking drags and pulls from cigarettes and mugs grinded to a halt as they saw Eagle and Sparks making their way through the crowd. In the lowlight, she made out the mixture of hopeful smiles and agitated glares of ponies as the collective group watched them. She returned smiles as best she could, but the expression was dashed when her eyes locked with those who didn’t return the gesture.

The silence was broken however, by the unimaginably loud and strangely jolly laughter of a massive, almost impossibly furry yak that wore a smile that stretched between his ears from behind the counter, bringing everypony inside to a startle with his booming foreign accent. “Ahah, I knew it!! You do not disappoint me!!”

Eagle’s whole body seemed to recoil from the shouting, and he shook off the stunned expression and donned a small smirk. “Knew what Vadim?”

The huge yak barked a laugh, one that seemed to shake the bar to its foundation, and he dived behind the counter returning with a pair of tumbler glasses and a bottle filled to the brim with clear liquor that he nearly smashed to pieces on the counter. “That you would return of course! As if anything could keep you from my illustrious bar!! Come!! Drinks are on the house tonight for glorious victory!!”

He shook his hoof in the air with a powerful air of celebration, and he poured out moonshine into the glasses downing one almost as fast as he poured it. He smacked his lips with a certain gaze that Eagle guessed Vadim had already been drinking.

He shook his head suppressing a laugh, and sidled up to the bar hoisting the glass and made a silent toast before taking a shot off of it. His face twisted up in scowls and he inhaled sharply at the horrendous flavor, but he wouldn’t refuse a free drink from the yak.

Vadim with a lingering stare, his already wide smile somehow spread at the sight ofSparks as her expression was a mixture of sensory overload and bafflement at Vadim. He barked another laugh, shifted to the side and, with a surprising elegance, gave a form of courtier’s bow as he regarded her in a most gentleyakish fashion. “Well hello ma’am, welcome to Vadim and Mikael’s bar and inn! What might I get the mare for tonight’s reverie? We must celebrate, or mopers will drown us in self pity!!”

With a piercing gaze his eyes scanned the room with a glower before turning back toSparks with a beaming smile. She flustered a little, and looked at the massive wall of bottles and jars before her, finding herself once again without a frame of reference. “Well... I uh... I don’t know...”

She scratched her chin as her eyes went from one bottle to another, clear liquors and amber hued bottles lining the shelves with opaque, deeply brown bottles of ranging shapes and sizes amongst them. Some had stickers or papers plastered to their sides, almost all of them unintelligible to her even if they were legible.

She coughed slightly, daunted by the range of choices and simply put her hoof to the bar as she sat on the low stool, nearly having to jump up to it like a foal. “What eh.... what do you recommend? I’ve... never been to a bar before, actually...”

Vadim put a hoof to his chin as he turned to his selection, and turned back with a practiced smile of a bartender. “That depends, what type of flavor tickles your fancy? We’ve got vodkas, whiskeys, scotches and bourbons; ponies typically go for more... sweet or fruity flavors though. Wines, rums, and some other freshly made drinks like brahmin milk coffee creams and ciders. I can even cut them together as cocktails if you prefer, just tell me what kind of flavor you enjoy!”

Once again Sparks felt an overwhelming lack of understanding to all the things Vadim listed, but one among them all one poked out when he said it. Ciders. She had some when she was younger, although it wasn’t alcoholic and, more importantly, made with the bland and flavorless ‘apples’ from a Stable hydroponic ‘orchard’, and the flavor of the cider wasn’t much to be ecstatic over beyond just another method of eating Stable ration food.

She wondered if, somehow, the surface had actual apples, bright red and juicy, teeming from healthy trees as described in her textbooks. She doubted it greatly, but regardless a curiosity blossomed in her that she might just be able to get a passing taste of a true, honest to Goddesses apple. With a growing smile and a sudden levity in her voice she nodded heartily. “I think... I’ll try a cider!”

“Then a cider it is!”

Vadim pounded his massive chest with a hoof, making a loud and bass-like boom as he turned around going through his selection, returning with two identical bottles, both hued vaguely like... well, the best description she had was urine; an off color beige-yellow that at first glance made her second guess for a few moments.

As Vadim popped the rubber seal attached to a sort of simple, steel mechanism fastened to the bottle itself he set the bottles down on the counter alongside a glass beforeSparks, and the stenches of the bar seemed to subtly disappear as she hesitantly leaned forward to smell the drink.

Oddly enough, the not so appetizing visage of the cider was dwarfed by a strangely sweet smell coupled with a subtle tinge of alcohol, and much like her previous experiences with surface foodstuffs she wondered how it would fare. She shrugged and wreathed the bottle in her magical cyan aura, pouring herself a glass and setting the bottle back down. She hoisted the glass with her magic as she looked over to Eagle and Vadim, who both nodded as she nervously took her first steps into figurative marehood, and she took a copious sip from the cider.

The first sensory overload for her, to her immediate surprise, was a strange hoof in hoof delight and tang between the insane sweetness she could only understand as the apples she’s never had coupled with a kick of alcohol that hammered her tongue like, well... a hammer. She couldn’t describe it, as it was the single strangest thing she ever had the mixed pleasure of drinking.

She liked it well enough, the flavor was exquisite, but the slightly burning aftertaste made her cough subtly as she eyed with drink with peculiarity. “Oh -ahem-... wow, that’s... -ahem-, different.”

She coughed a few more times as Vadim laughed jubilantly, and he poured himself another glass of his moonshine and raised it high above into the smoky air. “To victory!!” He shouted, nearly rattling the walls and the posters lining them, and the general response was a mixed cheering sneer of sorts from ponies around, their hearing suddenly invaded. He downed his glass with no visible hesitance, and snorted as he glared about the room. “Sour bunch if I’ve ever seen one! Anyways, how do you like it, miss..?”

She looked up from the drink, and a nervous smile shot across her lips as a small embarrassment grew in her. “Sparks... Sparks Mr. Vadim! Pleased to meet you!” Her gaze trailed back to the bewildering drink as she took another sip from it, admittedly a much smaller taste as her tongue played around with the cider in her mouth.

Again, the terrific sweet drink tempered by the alcohol played tricks with her mind as she fought to decide one way or another her opinion. As she did so, however, her stomach surged with a sudden warmth that was indescribable, and she shook her head of the confusion as she looked back to Vadim. “It’s actually... not bad, just... weird! I’ve never had something like this before. Really sweet, but -ahem-... that aftertaste...”

“That would be the alcohol most likely; I am glad that you aren’t eehhh, too disagreeable with it though! But please, help yourself to as much as you want!”

The cheerful face of Vadim seemed to dispel the murky atmosphere for Sparks, and she smiled graciously as she eased into the barstool, trying to relax. “You’re too kind Vadim, thank you.”

He nodded with a wide smile as Sparks took another cautious sip of the cider, and he turned to Eagle with a certain smugness edged with caution in his expression. “So, I take it job was success?”

Eagle scoffed as he took another shot of the moonshine, and after his revulsions he smacked his beak and shook his head. “Well... It was a success until this attack happened. Now it’s only just started.”

Vadim poured himself more of his drink and with a single motion slurped down half of it in a flash. He shook his head in confusion and spoke far more quietly, despite the fact his ‘whispering’ was still plenty loud enough to be heard. “What do you mean? Or are you able to say?”

Eagle shook his head as he stared long at his half empty glass. He sighed as he continued speaking in a gravelly tone that subtly reverberated in the room as he maintained his gaze on his moonshine. “Most of it’s on the sly, but...” he peered over to Sparks as she sipped again off the cider, bringing it down to two thirds, and he sighed again. “Long story short, I was going to drop her off here and leave. Now I’ve got the package and have to make the drop. Way too far for my liking but the caps are too good to pass up...”

As Vadim grunted in response, Sparks had to suppress a chuckling scoff as she still didn’t believe he was doing it for the caps. She was glad he was going with her, knowing that he was right in every possible fashion that she couldn’t make it alone, but in the end boundless curiosity hammered her mind as to why he was risking life and limb after his own accounts of what The Divide held in store.

Eagle caught her twitches though, and with a distant stare took another shot off his drink. He knew he put himself in an... awkward position in terms of reasoning, but he hoped that he would never have to explain himself. He stuck it to the caps, sucking up his complaints and rode the mercenary reasons he so often in life pinned himself to.

He peered over to her, and after clearing his throat he motioned at her PipBuck with a talon as he lifted his glass to his beak. “How about some music Sparks? The silence is murder.”

Sparks looked up from her drink, and yet with a subtle glee to do so a sudden fear arose in her mind that Eagle and Vadim both recognized as her eyes fell on her PipBuck in worry. The former took his sip from the moonshine, feeling its effects in his claws and toe tips as it spread throughout him, and tilted his head in confusion. “Come on girl, it’s just music.”

With sudden apprehension her eyes shot from the device and locked with Eagle’s, fighting for the words to describe why she was so hesitant to tune to the Tenpony radio. “Well... it’s just, I... The uh, Dee-Jay... He might...”

“Paint you as a hero?”

Sparks had a sudden surge of fear that died as it was born, and merely shook her head solemnly as she lost herself in the cider glass before her; her entire belly becoming slightly warm from its embrace. “No... I mean, yeah that’s part of it but...” She sighed deeply, and took another sip of her drink as she thought to find solace in its strangely sweet flavor but finding none. “He might try to make those winged-... Lilac and her sisters... well...”

“The monsters of the story? Face it, they were. Just like those raider fiends they seem to live only to fuck others over for their gain.”

A short lived anger in Sparks’ mind burst to life as she turned in her stool and shot Eagle dangerous glances, venting her frustration loudly.“They were just trying to help!”

Eagle locked eyes with her, but kept quiet as he listened around for the bar’s reaction. Several of the ponies visibly scowled and glowered at her, and a scant few had compassionate expressions. Most just kept their faces buried in their diversions, smoking and drinking.

With a scowl of his own he raised his head in recognition and took his hat off, setting it down on the counter next to his drink as the smoky atmosphere and lights of the bar created a subtle dazzling of light off his feathers and facial features with sharp shadows. He spoke in near whispers as he took another shot off his moonshine. “That explains the stares...”

Sparks’ anger was smothered as she looked around the bar herself, and saw the wayward stares again as she became incredibly self conscious for no reason she could describe. Taking another sip from her cider she felt the effects it had grow and grow, and a subtle, whole body warmth enveloped her with her legs feeling tingly, her eyes felt some pressure behind them in her head.

She coughed a little, a uninitiated’s confusion to alcohol spurring, and turned to Eagle voicing her confusion to his words in whispers. “What do you mean?”

“Later.” Was all he said, and he scratched his beak and sniffled before turning to her, motioning his talon at her PipBuck again. “Now come on, the music will help. Trust me.”

Sparks still had reservations about it, but after a short period of visible reluctance with her mind fighting for a decision she relented, and with a few magical button pushes the PipBuck sprung to life, cutting back the silence and low din of the bar with a slow paced and wonderful jazz piece. The deep voice and suavity of the stallion complimented by elegant violins and piano seemed to flow like honey in the bar’s murmuring din, and silence grew as all the customers listened intently, rapt in its beauty.

“Eons ago, a million years before...”

“the best things in life were absolutely free...”

“But no pony appreciated a breeze that was always cool...”

“and no pony congratulated a moon that was always full..!”

“So it was made that they would fade away, now and then...”

“And we must pay before we get them... back again...”

“That’s what storms were made for, and we shouldn’t be afraid for...”

“Every time it rains, it rains... bits from heaven...”

“Don’t you know every cloud suspends... bits from heaven...”

“We’ll find our fortunes falling... all over town...”

“Be sure to turn your umbrella’s... upside down...”

“Trade them for a bundle of... sunshine and flowers...”

“If we want the things we love.... we must have showers..!”

“So when the skies thunder, don’t trot under a tree...”

“There’ll be bits from heaven... for everypony..!”

The ending crescendo of the song seemed to deflate everypony in the bar; every creature even, as Eagle and Vadim sighed in a sudden, but welcome, release of tension no one knew they had. Sparks had lost herself in the song, and desired to flip the station off to cut off DJ Pon3 before he had a chance to ruin the near euphoric atmosphere left in the song’s wake, only the song’s message itself seemed to strike a strange and hidden cord in her emotions.

It kept her magic off the PipBuck’s controls, and merely took another sip from her cider as she tensed, hoping that the radio merely went to the next song.

Eagle’s beak curled into a small smirk, and after lifting his glass up in a toast he nodded to her as she sat there in her mental battle. She looked up, and seeing him and Vadim smiling she sighed, and lifted her own glass with her cyan magic returning the gesture. Vadim spoke first, and it seemed almost as if he was holding back tears. “It... may not be yak music, but... it is still touching to hear...”

Eagle turned to him after he emptied his glass down to a quarter, and with a shudder he spoke with a strange levity that was nearly missed by Sparks. “You sure it isn’t the moonshine talking?”

Vadim chuckled a little, and grunted after wiping his eyes. His voice was melancholic as his eyes seemed to be lost in thought. “No... not moonshine, only memories. I used to have radio of my own but after, eh... incident involving moonshine I uh... ‘broke’ radio. My brother and I used to listen to Dee-Jay Pon Three all the time, his music selection we warmed up to after hard times...”

Sparks’ ears perked up at the mention of ‘broke’, and she didn’t know if it was the cider talking, which with the way she felt may have very well been the case, or her own curiosity, but she propped herself up on the bar as her PipBuck slipped into another song; its lyrics and instruments fading into a kind of background noise at the edge of her attention. “You... broke the radio? How?”

Vadim donned an expression that seemed a mixture of indignation with embarrassment. He chuckled like a drum though as he waved a hoof over to his side, gesturing at the sad and rusty form on the counter of what was once a radio. “Yes... you see friend, we yaks have love for smashing things -It’s like tradition-, but we usually only smash specific things that aren’t so precious... like radio. Brother and I got drunk pretty good one night and whomp!! Come morning we smash more things when we find out radio was broken...”

Sparks looked at it with a long and hard gaze as she took another sip from her cider, momentarily feeling a sudden wave of balance loss as her body fell into an all encompassing feeling of slight inebriation; her cheeks felt warm and her head with a slight pressure behind her eyes. She shook her head, and fixed Vadim with a hopeful smile. “You mind if I take a look at it? I can probably fix it.”

Vadim shrugged, and went to the radio hoisting it with a hoof and set it down before her at the bar. “Feel free to try; most ponies here say it was broken beyond repair but... part of me thinks they didn’t even try.”

She nodded as she touched the machine, inspecting the rusty panels and small screws that kept the thing together. With an instinctual reach of her hoof she felt around in her saddlebags before groaning suddenly. “Ah shoot... I forgot, my tools are with Mayor, argh! Eagle, you wouldn’t happen to have a-” as she turned to him she saw in his talon a small and dirty red nylon roll with pieces of metal poking out of the ends. His beak held a nearly invisible smugness in his smirk, and Sparks smiled widely as she took it in her magic. “Thanks...”

“You’re welcome.”

She undid the knots holding the roll together, and rolled it out on the counter revealing a litany of screwdrivers and picks, pliers and crimps of griffon make. With a practiced ease she took a cross-tip screwdriver and removed the back panel from the radio box, revealing a mess of wires widely ranging in color, and a wiring diagram, nearly smudged illegible with time and dust, was on the panel itself.

She smiled, and nodded to herself as she inspected the diagram and compared it to the almost chaotic internals of the radio box, and with another sip of her cider she fell into a wordless working mantra; a dance she had performed for all her life.

Only now, the machine she fixed wasn’t an Enclave weapon or some Stable-Tec machine that performed a monotonous function for less than grateful fellow Stable dwellers. It was a radio; a beloved piece of brutalized technology for a newfound friend.

*** *** ***

As they sat in the almost serene bar, interrupted only by the occasional cough of another customer, they relished in the calm and relative quiet of the low tuned jazzy music from the radio that permeated after Sparks had finished fixing it. It took surprisingly little effort to repair, as the damage was mostly just a few wires that were broken loose and a dead micro spark battery.

She laughed a little when she saw what the problem was, and agreed with Vadim that nopony must have really tried to fix it; either that, or nopony in town was truly qualified to fix simple electronics. After she finished up the repairs and flipped the switch the radio burst to life, with the lights in the front panel blazing bright, and after switching through different frequencies finally keyed it to the Tenpony radio station.

With the jazzy tunes flowing again, she sighed with a wide smile taking in the music. It was a victory, a small one perhaps, but no less fulfilling as she polished off her glass of cider with Vadim whose bombastic nature met new extremes from the great news. He nestled the radio back in it’s cubbyhole with an amusing delicacy, and bowed lowly as he kissed Sparks’ hoof in thanks.

Despite the awkward nature of the gesture to her, she smiled widely and poured out another half glass, figuring that might be enough for her for the rest of the night; her doctor’s temperance loose in her inebriation. She and Eagle rose from their stools and, despite a little loss of balance, they managed to reach a well worn couch that both of them simply existed on; one that Sparks eyed with uncertainty as she took off the robe she wore with a sudden overwhelming sensation of heat washing over her from the cider.

She wasn’t used to such dilapidated furniture after all, and she showed it in every wayward stare at stains and blotches that tore holes on the once dyed fabrics, their color having lost their sharp hues decades ago. She was surprisingly comfortable drinking the delectably sweet, yet strange alcoholic kick of the cider, but any reservations she once had were set aside in the form of a 'coming of age' for herself.

Well marinated himself, Red Eagle peered over to Sparks as she fought for comfort on the sofa, and his eyes trailed down to her cutie mark as it was clear now for him to see with her robe off. A lightning bolt with a snake coiling around it, but oddly geometrically stylized with sharp angles and contrasts. The bolt and snake and their bronze highlights on black and the bolt’s center a bright, almost cyan blue smaller bolt highlighting the mark almost mesmerizing the longer he stared.

Figuring conversation might be a decent way to distract her from any thoughts she might be having, and spurred by his own unconscious curiosity, he spoke in lowly and slightly slurred by his inebriation. "So... Sparks, lets hear your cutie mark story."

She eyed over to him with at first a confused expression that Eagle had become accustomed to with her. She wore it often as it were. "What do you mean?"

Eagle chuckled at her lowly, and a grin crossed his beak. "Your cutie mark story, every pony's got one; how you got it, what it means -the works."

Sparks visibly shrank into the couch as if trying to hide in its cushions, albeit unsuccessfully as her overly warm body demanded a breeze to cool herself. "Oh, well... I have to admit it uh... might be a touch boring. Never had luck in that department. Others in the Stable had such... extravagant stories behind theirs, most were even true but... mine isn’t. Not by a long shot."

'Must be the cider' she thought, and she rubbed her belly with a hoof with a mixture of regret and a... subtle displeasure feeling as she felt like a low burning furnace with no air to breathe. She couldn’t deny its affect though, as she physically felt the best she had in a long while; loose and relaxed with only subtle anxiety fueling her worries.

Eagle saw her motion, and just shook his head as he sipped on his moonshine again. "Don't worry to hard about drinking; it might be a bit rough at first, but the buzz is handy the longer you're out here."

They both shifted in their seats, trying to relax as best as they could but no matter how they tried they couldn’t; Sparks for the lack of comfort dominated by her book smarts about alcohol kicking in and the couch’s terrible shape, and Eagle... well, for just being unable to truly relax. The need to be always poised to pounce was engrained in him.

He smacked his beak and lapped his tongue around from the atrocious taste of his moonshine after a sip, and with a lazy claw motioned to Sparks. "But enough doom and gloom, let’s hear it. Not much else to do for a minute."

Sparks screwed her face up trying to form the story, but the iterations she came up with were dull to her. "Alright... well, I got my mark when I was... I think thirteen, when Mr. Auburn got himself locked in his room... again I should say. His door panel was fried so it wasn’t truly his fault but..." She sighed deeply between words, as if in a mixture of nostalgia and humor as she bore a sad smile.

"The old coot could really get himself into trouble like that. He was wheelchair bound and wasn’t the best at much of anything except keeping others on their hoof tips. But... anyways, he somehow managed to fry his door's panel something fierce. Since I was the only pony there to deal with it as... as usual all the other engineering ponies were busy... I had to open the panel and ended up having to rewire the electronics in it with a spare microspark cell I had in my suit. Apparently the wires connecting the door to the reactor had been severed somehow, and wouldn’t open without a power source."

She paused as she stared at the cider glass before her, and after a brief contemplation of lapping of her tongue around her mouth she lifted the drink with her magic and took a sip. Its flavor was excellent every time, but the alcoholic aftertaste sent her body into a small squirming fit.

"Problem was... that when I hooked the power cell to the door, it fried the circuit board. I had to hardwire the... frikin’ thing to make it open properly. After we got him out of his room my cutie mark... exploded itself with a shower of magic and sparkles on my haunches, plain as day. A lightning bolt with a snake coiled around it. I've been trying to figure it out ever since then really."

Eagle shifted lower into his seat, and with a short sigh he spoke. “And you did that at thirteen?” Eagle said, his tone showing a touch of surprise.

“Yeah...?” She said, confused. “It wasn’t much really.”

“Hmm... more than I could do at thirteen with tech; too busy shoveling brahmin shit to learn electronics.” He sighed as he looked back in his life, but he shook his head and stared at her cutie mark again. "It kind of looks like an old prewar medical sign actually. One of the... older symbols; before the Ministry of Peace I think.”

Sparks’ face turned into an expression of deep thought, and she eyed her flank as the symbol that was supposed to summarize her life’s specialty into one picture on her hide only bore confusion as to what it really meant. "Yeah, that's what most ponies told me... I did a little research into it but the absolute broad subject of 'medical symbol' wasn’t... uh, conclusive... at best. The lightning bolt I guess is a... an allusion to the power cell I used but... ah, I don't know."

Sparks closed her eyes and sank deep into the couch after a sigh, and after a short time Eagle coughed and spoke low and level as he scratched his jaw with a claw. "Sounds like using power or... maybe just technology you can help ponies; creatures in general maybe."

Sparks looked up to him with subtle wonder in her eyes, and she tilted her head slightly. "You think so?"

"If I’ve gathered one thing from hearing cutie mark stories they're almost always symbolic. Along with the circumstances and such you helped a pony out with a battery. Pretty simple considering some I’ve heard before." He twirled his near empty glass before sipping it again. "And... from watching you go on and on, you like to help others. Might be your specialty is using technology to help them, much like how you used your laser pistol to 'help' ponies in need today; or perhaps more simply that radio.”

He pointed a claw at the radio beyond, it still strumming away lazy jazz tunes. “You fixed it and look around. Calm, quiet, subtle music with booze to ease the tension, with not a damn one weeping in their wine."

Sparks’ eyes sank into contemplation as she played with the idea in her head with the background music gently caressed her ears, and she thought about how the others felt around her listening to what she thought was the greatest music she had ever heard before, despite the subtle fear of the DJ coming on and spouting more of his ‘praise’; the act surprisingly absent from the air causing her subtle confusion.

She saw the lazy forms of drunken ponies around her, and while at a glance one might have judged simply that they were simply drunk, but a longer look drew into view that they seemed to be soaking in the moments of relative comfort with relief buried under the drink. While the mention of using violence to help still turned her stomach slightly, the feeling made worse by her slight inebriation coupled with confusion as to Eagle’s sudden wisdom she hadn't expected of him she felt as if there was a ring of truth in it.

She simply nodded her head in agreement. "You know... there was a whole class and... well, science into cutie mark studies back in my Stable. An entire month of gibberish basically, but they didn't... even think of that idea."

"Well, sometimes creatures over think things to death. Symbolism and such is sometimes better handled bluntly." He raised his empty glass as he wondered if he should get it refilled, and held it toward her in example. "For example, I could go on a... philosophical rant about how alcohol is an ages old fun time drink; that ponies and all others alike have enjoyed forever between religious or recreational reasons. I could say I drink because I’m participating in that age long tradition, or maybe I drink because it's an... escapist drug like most junkies."

He lazily turned his head to Sparks as she stared at his somewhat glossy deep blue eyes, held raptly in attention. His frowning scarred beak became a grin. "Truth is... I drink because I like it. With all the shit we go through in The Wasteland, why not do something you enjoy?"

Sparks tilted her head as Eagle polished off his glass, the detesting expression apparent in his face. "Even though it tastes like... well, like ass?"

"How do you know what ass tastes like?" The jabbing comment brought a fierce blush to Sparks’ cheeks, as planned, and he merely chuckled with a wide grin as she buried her eyes in her drink. "Jokes aside, the flavor isn’t what it's about, it's the buzz that takes the edge off the day. Around here... sometimes that's all you need to keep going."

His grin became a sullen frown as he stared long into the glass. His sigh broke Sparksfrom her embarrassment, and she took another squirming sip from her cider and spoke afterwards. "Well, on that note I think sleep would do me best."

"Agreed.” Eagle sighed deeply. “After today I could sleep until noon tomorrow easily enough, despite the fact we don’t have the time. We've got a long road ahead of us."

The reminder of his new practically permanent charge still set Eagle’s mind uneasy. He sighed again as he thought long and hard about how they were supposed to get to The Undiscovered West. It was, until now, a buried worry beneath his moonshine, and after confirming his need for a refill he pondered just how bad his luck was. 'First it's going to The Hoof, now... now it's going headlong into The West, into The Divide of all places'.

He made a surprisingly successful attempt at getting up to walk to the bar, despite his loss of articulation in his steps, and after getting a refill he made his way to their room for the night. He stopped at the door and looked back to Sparks as she sat there staring at her drink, and held his glass up to her in his talon with a pointing claw. "Make sure you get some sleep alright? Won't be hard I’d figure but... just get some sleep."

With that he closed the door behind him, leaving her on the couch alone with her thoughts and discomforts. She rubbed her belly again, and after taking another sip off her glass she curled up on the couch with dimming eyes and thought of everything and nothing for the second time tonight. The only outside stimulus being the radio, and she listened intently to the words of the music.

It was a mare this time, one with a beautiful singing voice alongside a slow and steady jazz band merely strumming and blowing slowly away at their instruments, which by ear sounded like pianos and smooth sounding trumpets backed by nearly therapeutic bass chellos. She sang of love, as she had come to expect of almost all jazz songs from what she had heard so far, about her handsome stallion and how life was so easy with him.

Some part of her twisted a little inside as she heard the song, like the heartstrings it plucked at rang with a sudden yet subtle hollowness; echoing and reverberating for a dead audience in a concert hall with nary a soul to enjoy it. Save for herself, as if she was the only pony in the room as she was all at once the band, orchestrator, and audience, playing a song written in happiness but sung in a voice of remorse and sorrow as tears streaked her cheeks.

A song of remembrance, as some distant part of her mused grimly, and her thoughts drifted into The Wasteland as a whole. She had heard a litany of love songs from DJ Pon3’s station, among others that sang of how great things were before The War with the Enclave’s propaganda radios with big band symphonies. All of it, however, with a sullen feeling felt like nothing more than dispersing mist of rain in desert winds as all these songs of love and life and glory merely whispered to themselves emptily, as if clinging blindly to what once was.

Her eyes watered as these thoughts came to her, their vindications echoed as image flashes came and went. Her first sight of the world beyond Stable Ninety-Six with the seemingly endless deserts around a wicked city below her, the battle ground in the courtyard with shredded corpses draped in powered armor surrounding a heap of slagged metal, the slaughtered raider fiends and their final nameless victim from beyond the grave when he died from being freed, the griffons who supposedly died in the line of duty for stale justice.

Lilac and her sister’s twisted desire to ‘save’.

Of a sudden, Sparks darkly thought that all the songs she so enjoyed had no presence, not here in The Wasteland. They were songs of everything that The Wasteland lacked, even her own home included in the judgment as she thought of the Stables in a new light; albeit shifted merely inches. They were holes and towers, gigantic steel and lead boxes powered by the magics of a bygone generation built for the sole purpose of shielding their dwellers from the balefire storms and magical radiation from beyond.

Unfortunately now, she realized in her near drunken contemplations after another long draught of cider, they may have protected thoroughly against these physical threats... only there was no such guard for the psychological, the spiritual wounds inflicted by murdering nearly the entire world in raging flames. The scars on the minds of ponies and creatures in general that had to live on knowing all those great things these songs sung of... no longer existed, with empty smiles and embraces as they droned about like machines.

She feared though, that if they still did, they were all as hollow ringing as the songs themselves. A metaphorical feedback loop of ponies and creatures emulating things long lost.

She wiped away the slowly streaking tear from an eye and curled up even tighter against herself, and as Sparks slowly sank off into sleep she clung to its words, regardless of her dark thoughts as if in defiance, much like how Eagle had said the rest of the patrons were. With a guttering sigh she simply let go of her thoughts, and as she slipped away into unconsciousness the music droned away in her ears, and ebbed away into a dull and hollow song with merely a candle’s warmth for her ruminations.

Like a foal clinging to a stuffed toy, however, she pushed away the care, and felt more alone than ever; the song acting as a small and weak anodyne.

"Being with you..."

"is painless living, it's painless to be"

"when you're in love, and I’m so in love"

"There's nothin’ in life... but you..."

"There's no affliction... the time I’m giving"

"They're painless to give... when you're in love"

"I’m happy to do... whatever I do for you..."

"With you, maybe I’m a fool but it’s fun..."

"Ponies say you rule me with one..."

"sway of your hoof, darlin' its grand..."

"They just misunderstand..."

"Being with you, is painless living"

"It's painless to be, when you're in love..."

"And I’m so in love... there’s nothin’ in life but you!"

Footnote: Red Eagle Level 22

Sparks Level 4

Chapter 16: Old Lands, New Frontiers

Chapter 16: Old Lands, New Frontiers

“How’re yah doin’ kiddies!! It’s me -Dee-Jay Pon Three!- and I’m back today with another batch of that ever so excitin’ news, and this time around it may be more than your little hearts can handle!

“Now, fellow Wastelanders... I know that we’ve all heard a little about a certain relatively new up and comin’ town in the north, one called ‘Crystal City’ if you remember me talking about it years ago, nestled in the plains practically within spittin’ distance north of the Canterlot Ruins, and all the horrible things it’s got in that lovely parcel of a prewar tourist trap that keeps most of us in the south from paying a visit... But believe it or not sittin’ in front of me I have a report that goes above and beyond the standard fare of Wasteland shenanigans we get even on an annual basis.

“Now for starters, this report is a mess... Admittedly I would have reported on this clusterfuck that happened a day and a half ago sooner had I the ability to, but one monster of a storm prevented from me bein' able t’ gather enough information t’ keep me from babblin’ over the air like an idiot; despite the fact I still feel like that now.

“That super powerful, hurricane style storm that stretched from the Neighagra Falls all the way t’ the Gallopin' Gorge and from Canterlot up t’ the Crystal Mountains from the report, seemed t’ be focused over our little town of Crystal City it seems.

“For what reasons? Your guess is as good as mine kiddies, as the only picture I can paint is that a sudden downpour and lightnin’ show simply sprung out of the air, and it lasted for only for a few hours before fizzlin’ out of existence, leavin’ the same ole dreary cloud layer that our good old friends... the Enclave... erected over our rustic paradise in place, like nothin’ had happened.

“Now... that by itself is bad, as anypony would imagine with a gale-force storm justpoppin’ and poppin’ out like a light switch, but the -what I dearly hope is hearsay- reason for it from what I’ve heard is downright spine chillin’...

“Some sort of new mutants -or creatures, or... whatever they were- were t’ blame for it -and listen to this. They were unicorns, who had wings! Take that in for a moment and understand that even I had t’ do a double take when I heard that.

“Now, let’s just entertain the idea, especially since I don’t have any eyes-on proof of this, that Alicorns -as my lovely assistant told me they were called in the old days- did indeed completely, out of nowhere, make a sudden comeback into our lives after an absence that stretches all the way back to before The War, I’m meaning the big one a hundred years ago.

“We all know what we’d think if we ever saw somethin’ like that, and t’ be honest I wouldn’t blame yah for it. If a really tall unicorn with wings came up to me, lookin’ high and mighty like our own ‘Alicorn’ statue out in front of Tenpony Tower, I’d be inclined to bow to just out of respect for The Goddesses, Celestia and Luna; but lemme tell yah it doesn’t seem like they came t’ play nice -or bring deliverance of any kind.

“It saddens me to say, unfortunately for the denizens of Crystal City, they just decided t’ pay them a visit. Such a... glamorous visit as well t’ probably explain the lightshow that even we over in Manehattan felt a draft. From the reports the town suffered some, well... ‘substantial casualties’, and afterwards it looks like they just... disappeared; leavin’ the town pretty beat up it seems.

“My prayers go out t’ you guys, and I will be scurryin’ like a madpony until I can get more information one way or another about what actually happened as, well... I’m not sure I believe my eyes. Rest assured. If you lot are listenin’ in, well I’ll say this much... Goddesses be with yah folks, and maybe I can convince some caravans t’ head out that way t’ trade.

“The most peculiar thing though in this report... might be that after the battle two characters were seen leavin’ Crystal City headin’ out into the wastes. You, my faithful listeners, will remember them from a previous newscast back in The Hoof where a griffon and a Stablemare, one ‘Red Eagle’ and an unknown pony whose only identification card is those classy blue and gold duds. There were seen going in one end of a tunnel chock full of raider fiends and out the other with the whole lot of them wiped out; a feat that is still amazin’...

“If they had anythin’ t’ do with the survival of Crystal City, well... let me be the first t’ say from beyond; thank you with all my heart. There’s too few of us trying to make the north a safer, welcoming place as it is, and it’s good that the townsponies are safe.

“Thank you for keepin’ up the good fight, Red and Blue. I hope yah don’t mind me calling you that ma’am since I don’t have a name for yah, heh heh! If you have a preference, send a letter or, better yet, drop by the studio and I’ll be sure t’ let my lovely assistant interview you as our newest Wasteland radio sensation!

“Any who... this has been Dee-Jay Pon Three, with the absolute latest in Equestrian Wasteland news, and now the weather... Cloudy, rad-counters clickin’ and violence on today’s forecast to compliment the bleak and dreary. I mean, give me a day where that isn’t the forecast...! Goddesses...!

“From your lips, t’ Celestia’s ears... Here’s a piece from Sapphire Shores! Singin’ in such a lovely voice we can’t help but fawn over!”

*** *** ***

Desert winds moaned across the desolate expanse, a numbing mixture of dust and bone chilling moisture that cut away any heat from the cloud smothered sun above. The colors were muted, and lacked any vibrancy as sparse tan and brown bowls of hills broke apart the matching horizon that stretched beyond without a seeming finite point of end, save to the south where a distant mountain range of blackened brown peaks jutted high above just barely scraping at the dense and bleak cloud layer above. An almost indiscernible forlorn shape was nestled at the range’s peak, which seemed to resemble a half destroyed castle.

Sparks knew though, from her PipBuck’s declaration and her time in history class, that it was Canterlot.

The words of the DJ emanated in her mind, finally getting the dreaded newscast she so despaired; only the pain she expected was dull and lost its edge as she stared into the expanse of The Wasteland and ruins beyond. Her thoughts jumped from the Alicorns -the new name for them strange but sensible she guessed- that she and Red Eagle had faced merely yesterday, and the knowledge she had of prewar Equestrian glory and the newfound depth of unfathomable destruction sparked by Equus’ resident hooves.

She spoke lowly, with a shadow of numbness plainly wearing the strain she had suffered in a night’s inebriated stupor. A melancholic mind having drifted into darker waters than any she had tread before in life as she bore a subtle headache that followed. It agitated her mind into such thoughts. “I knew it...”

Eagle stopped mid pace and turned his head back to her to find her staring off to the south at Canterlot, nestled high in the mountains. His expression flat and empty as his focus was consumed on their journey beyond, and his voice emanated with a similar hollowness akin to the desert winds. “Knew what?”

“That... well, Dee-Jay Pon Three...”

Eagle’s stance flared no emotion, but the hard and calloused mercenary inside him had to stifle a chuckling scoff at the realization of a fresh faced survivor. His gaze trailed off to that ruined castle off in the distance, sniffling near silently as he stared at its destroyed form of jutting towers and walls that lined the cliff’s edge near the mountaintop.

To Eagle, it merely represented another of the modern world’s horrors, but to Sparksits visage gave the friction necessary for her to continue truly grasping the extent of a bygone conflict; the very scorched ground a testament and receipt of war.

Eagle spoke flatly, but a sullen soberness was easily detected in his voice. “I told you. No matter what they intended their history is blood soaked.”

His words sent a pang of buried guilt inside his own chest, as he remembered he had counted himself among that group. How many creatures across time that, despite their intentions, had wrought nothing but harm in the end? All their ledger marks burned red with flame and blood, drowning the little good they ever did. Eagle gave a sparing glance at the mushy soil below them; a muddied mixture of dirt and dust, as well as century old ash as he merely realized what he had already decades ago.

Sparks’ suppressed scoff shook Eagle from his own traveling ruminations, and he looked back to her with an empty expression as she spoke sullenly.

“It’s just... why does everypony keep on trying to make it... well, seem alright? There isn’t a single good thing I’ve seen or done out here that hasn’t left a sour taste in my mouth, even when I was stitching up the townsponies yesterday...” She sighed as her broiling thoughts spoke themselves; eager for a compassionate shoulder and relief. “I did a fair bit of good then, I didn't even have to... to hurt anypony, but I wouldn’t have had to stitch them up if there wasn't a... problem to begin with, with the Alicorns. The Dee-Jay... he goes on about this ‘good fight’ and labels us as... essentially heroes for hurting creatures in the name of this ‘good fight’ of his...”

Eagle gave a guttering sigh of understanding, as he himself had to deal with the same questions she was currently facing. He shook his head as he turned his gaze back to Canterlot in the distance and his tones were morose, but flat. “Sparks... the only thing I can say for them is that... they mean well. He thinks you’re actually doing good despite the fact you’ve subjected yourself and others to hell. He just has a different idea of what good actually means.”

He paused as his mind’s traveling thoughts broiled as well, and he had, for a moment, agreed with Sparks on at least one thing before he continued. “I have to admit... Those... ‘Alicorns’, as he called them, might think they’re doing good. Then again so does the Enclave and I’m sure the prewar Ministries thought they were doing good. You need only look around and back to yesterday to see where it led for them. With the Enclave they hide above the clouds, prattling on about past glories as their fellow kin die down here in droves. The Ministries? They didn’t prevent the apocalypse...

“And those Alicorns? Well... you got a taste of their ‘unity’ as they called it for yourself; we both did, honestly. Some folks might think they know what’s good for every creature, but in the end it’s what’s good for them -or what they believe.”

Sparks looked to Eagle as he spoke, with a solemn expression and a small wonder in her eyes. He gave a sigh and turned to her; his deep blue eyes glaring beneath the shadow of his wide brimmed black hat. “The Dee Jay means well, and despite the fact he knows absolutely shit about what his ‘good fight’ actually entails I’ve grown to take the compliments in the spirit they’re given; might go mad otherwise.”

Sparks wanted to speak, but found no words to say as she gazed back to the massive abandoned castle in the distance. She remembered the tales of how it was once the seat of Equestrian government, administrating the guidance Equestria needed through the princesses of yore with a thousand years of peace behind them. One war, however, tore it all asunder, and it stood after a century of abuse as a mottled example of failure.

Her gaze trailed from Canterlot and wandered across the mountain line until her eyes locked with a strange spire in the distance; it was tall and almost silvery in the filtered sunlight and altogether a strange and alien addition to the blackened brown mountains surrounding it. She tilted her head slightly, and wondered with a passing, unvoiced question what purpose it served as her eyes trailed up and down the spire, only she shook her head with a solemn expression and turned to Eagle.

“I... I guess with the way things are they could see it as alright... I’ve only been out here for little over a week and I’ve done more than my entire Stable combined; the Overmare would definitely be shocked how fast it’s all going downhill... Mom and Dad too...”

Eagle’s beak twitched a hair at the mention of her parents. He had never truly known his own, only his father who died when he was young with wisps of memories filling the gaps of his youth. The only true parent he ever had was Bartus, yet the memories he buried deep. His melancholy however got the better of him as he stared out into The Wasteland around them.

He spoke to her as he turned around and continued his slow and methodical pace through the half mushy landscape. “Tell me about them; your folks.”

Sparks looked to him as he walked away, and after resuming the pace she cocked her head to the side, voicing the curiosity in her face. “What for?”

“Well for starters to break the quiet. We’ve got way too much walking to do until we reach The Divide; and trust me, walking that far in silence will drive you mad. If you want to talk about something else then by all means but just pick something.”

Sparks’ mind wandered as he told her to pick a conversational topic without a care to which, however as her own memories came back they made her nostalgic; an idea that still perplexed her as she mused she would never step hoof back into Stable Ninety-Six.

She sighed a little before speaking, and that feeling hummed a little in her voice. “Well... Mom and Dad are... to put it simply the ‘weird couple’ of Ninety-Six. They never really fit in anywhere -a fact they’re proud of- and they never take much of anything seriously. They’re always the ones who crack the jokes at things the others just-”

Sparks’ words were cut off mid-sentence by her own thoughts as she realized something profound. She wondered what her parents would have said about all this; The Wasteland and everything she had gone through. What would her mother, a fantasizing unicorn mare whose reading habits have her delve off into ridiculous fictions about high adventure or romance, think of the things her ‘darling puddin’’ has gone through already? Or what would her father, a satirical and quick witted pegasus geek who spends most of his free time deep into Ogres and Oubliettes with her mother and his friends playing out their wildest fantasies say?

The first dark thoughts she swept aside, ones where she mused they would welcome the chance at real adventure in The Wasteland; her thinking that ‘adventure’ would be nothing but death and carnage. No, she thought about it harder and imagined her parents loving and tender hooves on her shoulders, calling her ‘puddin’’ and welcoming the foal names in light of the lack of compassion she’s faced, as she remembered their parting words.

‘Where ever you go, no matter how... dangerous or bleak it gets out there in the wide old world, remember that we love you and are here for you; not in person as much as we’d want to be but in spirit.’

She had said she was worried, only slightly with a blatant ignorance even the Stable’s and Enclave’s training regimen couldn’t prepare her for, but she remembered again what her parents had said.

‘It’s only natural to be worried puddin’, just remember that... well, we’re worried too, and that in the face of such danger to keep your sense of humor. Bad things happen all the time here in Ninety-Six, but your Mom and Dad always laugh at it. The bad things only get stronger if you yourself feed them, and getting all depressed about it isn’t going to help you make it better.’

The last memory echoed slightly in her mind, and she realized of a sudden she had already failed in their parting advice as she was swept up in the chaos of the outside world. With a sullen shame she began to drift off into the depressing thoughts she couldn’t help but think, and no matter how much she fought with it she couldn’t stop it.

With a single tear inching down her slate-blue cheek, she resolved within herself to do better from there on out, to keep her sense of humor and not allow the world to break her spirit no matter the odds. She didn't want to disappoint her parents, her friends, or even herself, anymore despite her nagging fears of the great and terrible world beyond.

Eagle looked over to her as she trudged forward on autopilot alongside him, and his expression showed none of the small concern he grudgingly had at her expression, shifting between sadness and stoicism, and spoke lowly. “Sparks...?”

She startled slightly with her distant eyes yanked from their fixation, and after wiping them with a sleeve of her Stable suit, fortunately fresh and washed clean by Mayor Madame’s good graces, she gave a shuddering sigh before she spoke in a shaky voice. Her creeping sadness was apparent in her tones, and Eagle merely arched a brow; the expression all but invisible below his hat’s shadow. “Sorry... I uh, I was just remembering... something they said... Anyway, where was I?”

“You were saying they never take anything seriously.”

Sparks’ expression gave a flickering recognition as Eagle turned his head back to the road, and she cleared her throat before continuing in the same nostalgic tones. “Okay, well... yeah, right on the nail there. Usually laughing, as they put it, in the face of problems. One time the Stable has a pretty bad leak in the sublevels and Dad was assigned to fix it. Being one of the best engineers of the Stable he could handle it no problem but the panic it induced when he came back covered in... eh, sewage, and laughing as he went on a huge tangent about how messed up it was set everypony on edge. He had fixed it, no problem, but led them on for a few hours about how he couldn’t.”

Sparks gave a hollow laugh as she shook her head; a small smile spreading across her lips. “He told me a pipe just needed replacing and when he removed it the valve further down the line failed, covering him in obnoxious amounts of the Stable’s waste. He said ‘it was just desserts’ with that sly smile of his.”

Eagle gave a short, nearly silent grunt as he found a little humor in it, and spoke with a dash of warmth in his tones. “Sounds like a decent sort. A bunker full of doomsayers would get taxing.”

“Yeah... if he wasn’t so useful he’d probably be a pariah, but I think Mom is the balancing act there. She’s the head wrench jock-...” Sparks’ words seized mid-sentence, and after a heinous mental evaluation of the chosen term she rectified herself with a shudder. “Hrm... mechanic in the Stable, and she’s one of the few who could disassemble the Stable’s generators and put them back together if she wanted to. She taught me all I know about the mechanical aspects of arcano-tech as far as fixing them; which is handy to know in a Stable. Or when the Enclave ships in crates of tech to fix and refurbish.”

Eagle was still mentally scratching his head in regards to why the Enclave needed their Stable to fix their own gear and goods, and deciding to keep the trail of conversation alive he pondered aloud his questions with an edge of amusement. “Still confused as to why the Enclave doesn’t just have their own gear heads fix their junk. It’s not like they don’t have them, so why spend the resources shipping freight to a Stable?”

He struck a familiar chord of confusion in her mind, and she shrugged a little mid-stride as she gave a short chuckle. “I asked the same question a few years ago, but the answer I got was ‘don’t know, but we’re glad we can help’. I... well, now I think they were just glad that as long as we made ourselves useful the Enclave wouldn’t strip our Stable for parts as you said. Somepony had eavesdropped something like that and spread rumors about it a while back, and we apparently got an officer from The Enclave. Apparently it was to make speeches.”

Eagle scoffed with a dull amusement, and he shook his head as he spoke. “I can only imagine the lies he was spouting then; a media Pee Are officer making speeches. Can’t trust an Enclave Em Pee.” The phrases he said gave Sparks momentary confusion before he shook his head; remembering she wasn’t particularly privy to military lingo and jargon. “And by Pee Are, it’s ‘press reveal’ and Em Pee is ‘military police’; acronyms.”

“Oh, okay... well yeah, that’s how it happened pretty much. At the time it sounded genuine but after getting older and listening to the other ponies they didn’t believe him or his words much. It... was always a sore topic.”

Eagle showed no flicker of emotion but he drove the point home as he spoke low, edged with smugness. “Yeah, since the Enclave has striped entire Stables in mountains down to their frames leaving holes in them I can’t see how a Stable would be nervous around them.”

Sparks had a short moment of shock as she looked up to Eagle with a smirk gracing her lips. She spoke lightly as her nostalgic melancholy was thrown aside and she trotted further ahead to see his face below the brim of his hat. “Was that... sarcasm?”

Eagle sniffled a little as her expression deepened into a wide smile, her eyes beaming with wonder, and he gave a short grumble as he had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, it was.”

She gave a short chuckle that squeaked a little in her voice, and she shook her head as she looked out into the desert beyond. “I didn’t know you were capable of humor.”

Eagle bristled a little under his hat; his brow furrowing in a small anger as his subconscious chastised him for leaving an opening for what he had for so long attributed great pain to.

The building blocks of a friendship.

He had been alone, truly alone, for nineteen years, with only acquaintances and passing partners in business in that time. He had all the proof he needed that close ties represented only opportunities for The Wasteland to snatch them away, almost always violently. He sighed again, deeper, with an air of coldness that permeated from his demeanor as he tried to fortify his severance policy; his guiding principle against ever feeling that pain again. He did so by saying no more than a few words in response as he trudged on withSparks beside him.

Only... he knew that after however long this ‘adventure’ of theirs would last they both would become very well acquainted. They would travel, fight, bleed, and camp with each other from town to town until they reached their destination, and after a subtle subliminal noise, one that sounded every bit like a dull clattering laughter of dry and hollow bones, resonated in his mind he realized that the very thing he despaired was already underway. He peered over to Sparks’ wide smile as she trotted beside him, feeling a lingering emotion.

It was a mixture of detestation... and pity.

*** *** ***

As they continued trudging west of Crystal City, with the low tuned radio on Sparks’ PipBuck strumming away in a wide array of jazz pieces, a few of which she reveled in hearing again as it began to replay older songs she had heard before, she had tried to make more small talk with Eagle as per his previous request. Only... she found his reception cold and inattentive; like he was distracted or just plainly not trying to feed the conversations he himself had requested.

It left a small confusion in her as she asked about it, if he was alright and such, but he only responded with ‘Yeah’ and ‘I’m fine’ as they trotted on with nary a present concern beyond traveling. The desert spaces, true to their form, were empty and void of anything besides an errant patch of dead grass and clumps of mushy soil that threatened the spoiling ofSparks’ relative cleanliness in her now slightly dust matted armor from the chilly breeze.

She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why he had suddenly dropped the desire to speak. There wasn’t a single distant reason or threat she could perceive, and more importantly if there was one she suspected Eagle would spare no time in pouncing on the opportunity to meet or avoid it.

His casual and controlled, yet strangely loose stride was even, broken only by the miscellaneous pieces of scenery as his stride lengthened or shortened to avoid it with no visible reason she could perceive for his ignoring her. She felt at a loss, shaking her head before chastising him in a curious voice. “I thought you wanted to talk, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I said I’m fine.”

Eagle’s blunt retort carried an edge of agitation that she heard plainly, and she continued speaking in a subtly derisive tone as Eagle was having a small skirmish of thoughts all his own. “Well talking is a two way street you know, and I’m sure you don’t want to ‘go mad’ as you said.”

“Alright!” Eagle snapped with flaring eyes and a grimace, and he scoffed as he shook his head; letting slip his intentions in a phrase he didn’t catch before it was too late to rectify. “Great Wind girl, we don’t need to be friends for thi-”

Sparks balked inside with a shocked expression, halting in her stride and fixing him with incredulous eyes. Eagle merely closed his eyes realizing his words as he sighed, but continuing his pace as she spoke shakily. “Well... I’d like to be friends...”

Eagle’s callousness burst forth in his deadpanned expression as he stopped, drooped his head before turning back to her and he measured how to salvage this in a favorable way, yet found none. “You ought to be concerned more with staying alive than making friends, and to be perfectly honest I don’t need any. I’m concerned with one thing, and one thing only.Surviving. Our little ‘quest’ of yours will set me up for life most likely.”

Eagle’s words hit Sparks like a mallet, and his subconscious had a mixed reaction to her injured expression; satisfaction and self scolding claw in claw. He shook his head in short motions, wondering how to make the best of this, but grimly he thought that nothing he could say could satisfy her empathetic nature. He could only be blunt, and hope it would be enough.

“I had friends before... long ago.”

She gave a small scoff of surprise that flared Eagle’s expression to a low burning agitation, and she gestured her hoof in a wave as she spoke accusingly. “Well where are they? I don’t see any-”

“They’re dead; killed by raiders and slavers, or just Wastelandic cruelty like starvation and exposure.”

His empty, emotional void of words sparked a subtle embarrassment in her mind as she reeled herself in, a mixture of bafflement and shame shifting in tandem with her growing blushes as she crossed a foreleg with a hoof in humiliation. “I’m... sorry Eagle, I didn’t know...”

“And you shouldn’t. The price of friendship in The Wasteland is having it torn away; violently.” Eagle sighed again, but the broiling emotional fatigue plateaued and he couldn’t stop the wave of emptiness as he continued, harshly, grimly enunciating his words with an echoing hollowness. “Seeing your... loved ones and partners getting cut down, or dying from accidents you can’t control does nothing but torment you for the rest of your days girl. Better to not have friends than to have and lose them.”

Sparks, at that moment, had subtly learned a great deal about Eagle without context as to why he felt that way. She didn’t believe him, at all in any stretch, and she valued every small friendship she had made thus far; ones with Tato Sundae, who was far behind them tending to the restoration effort of Crystal City, Mayor Madame in the same boat, Vadim and his brother Mikael, and even back in her Stable where her parents and close knit group of friends and relatives numbering perhaps no more than eight or nine, depending on the day.

All in all, she could probably count at the least four or five well trusted friends to her judgment, and while she would be torn if she lost them to wicked circumstance she refused to believe it would have been better off to never having known her parents as an orphan instead of what had already happened; stepping hoof out of Ninety-Six and, most likely, never seeing them again.

The last thought was sobering as a solemn frown spread across her lips, as she truly faced the prospect, but in her eyes she resolved, perhaps subconsciously, to prove Eagle wrong, voicing it just so with a fire that Eagle subtly dreaded. “You’re wrong, and I’m going to prove it.”

“Will you now?” Eagle scoffed lowly with a grim smirk across his scarred beak, and chuckled darkly as he turned around and continued trudging off to the west. “I’ll give you a month before you change your mind.”

*** *** ***

The Following day, as she had come to realize the accuracy of Eagle’s words, had driven Sparks at the very least stir crazy.

Almost twenty miles of trudging through the dreary and mind numbing deserts of beige and brown with it’s mixture of drying, cracked patches of dirt and dust mingling with the last remains of rain in mushy mud clumps had made her tense yet loose in a whole body soreness that demanded rest to alleviate. She wondered if that soreness, which she felt from horn to hooves like her muscles were to simply give out below her along with blisters forming from her boots and saddlebags, was the worst part of the entire experience; she was wrong.

The only stimuli over the hours were the standard fare of Wastelandic terrain, with little more that a stray insect of rodent crossing their paths time to time. In fact, the single most interesting thing that Sparks had seen was said by Eagle to be little more than a flying radio, something called a ‘sprite-bot’ off in the distance. Ravenous for something to do she simply shook her head as her eyes drooped in the midst of the standard fare of wandering thoughts; her late morning conversations with Eagle, the radio’s news broadcast, the Alicorns and Lilac, the Enclave’s sky-tank that perched in Crystal City shortly after their departure, her Stable...

All of it from the traveling ruminations she hadn’t yet had the displeasure of facing before in earnest. Sure she might have had hours of time to think back in Ninety-Six, but usually she was no more than a few steps away from other ponies for conversation or games, or a steady stream of work to cut away the boredom, giving her something to focus on.

Here? All she had was walking in one direction for the entire span of the dreary sunlight hours as the radio lazily sang in the background. She licked her chapped lips as she stared about her.

Her surroundings, the horizon, the sky, her own traveling companion, none of them prodded her to anything but half recognized thoughts after a time; a flurry of ideas and ponderings that left as soon as they came like rain in a sprinkling shower. It had the same effect on her too, with a numbing effect of a drizzle with the splashes and pitter patter of her thoughts and desert breezes congealing into a single sonorous droning in her ears that even her hoofsteps and rustling barding only added to.

Finally with an exasperated shake of her head she groaned and cleared her throat, and she spoke for the first time since shortly before the filtered noon sun reached its place high above the world. It was close to evening according to her PipBuck, and she realized how long they both had gone without the slightest word between them. “Where are we going anyway, besides west I mean?”

Eagle showed no emotion as he trudged on, and despite his concentration on the road ahead he had been thinking of that same question for the last two hours, maybe more; going back and forth between ideas and weighing his options. ‘Their options’ he corrected himself with a grimace. “To the next town, hopefully not literally if we can keep our provisions in check. Keep to the road west and hit the next town and stock up there.”

Sparks looked down at her PipBuck’s map as she kept pace, and seeing the little green arrow signifying their position in the world with Crystal City behind them east she traced along the western lines seeing if she could find any places close by. She saw the lines of railroads to the south and a few scattered highways, and in that great expanse around them on the map she saw no other major markers by the map’s reckoning, save for a single square declaring a town in their path close by.

‘Good Neighbor’, nestled next to a place the map had named the Galloping Gorge.

The square on the map was greyed out slightly, leaving a transparent pale green marker that listed the town’s name below it when she panned the cursor to it. Much like the dozen or so other squares on the map, a majority greyed out in the same fashion, they all told her what she had already known; that she hadn’t been there before.

Despite it though, Sparks recalled what Eagle had said about the place earlier to Green. It was a ‘rub dirt in it town’, a phrase that Sparks only felt a strange hesitance in her ignorance of the meaning, with it being placed somewhere nearby a ‘Galloping Gorge’ a rough one hundred miles west of Crystal City the only other information present.

Her PipBuck once again left her slightly mesmerized, with the functions and seemingly hidden programs and magics the little clunky devices held in store for ponies who never knew half of them, one such as its ability to synchronize something as simple as mapping data off of the arcano-tech spell matrixes of other devices that bore them. Only now she wondered if the device had divined that information from her Enclave escort, or from Eagle’s conversation with Green; a possibility that meant the machine was capable of more than she once thought.

She shook the wandering thoughts and turned her attention back to Good Neighbor, and spoke to Eagle with curiosity in her cute voice. “What about this ‘Good Neighbor’? It’s close by; somewhat.”

Eagle reared his head back and his own questions of how she knew about it so casually were doused as he saw her nose buried in her PipBuck’s map. Recognition flashed dimly across his face and he turned back to the road ahead, speaking low and grimly.“Hopefully not. Didn’t leave that town on the best of terms with the locals. Besides, they don’t have much in the way of trade except for chems; little supplies of the sort we’ll need.”

Sparks’ eyes fixed on the little greyed out square of Good Neighbor with a small curiosity as to why Eagle was reluctant to go there; again she corrected herself as she wondered how exactly bad the terms he spoke of were. From her short experience with him so far she mused it couldn’t be pleasant, but she held out a small, admittedly foalish, hope to the contrary.

She didn’t even bother with asking herself, or Eagle, what kind of town Good Neighbor actually was as she scanned across the map westwards, and with the yawning chasm of a dark green screen, barren of any markers beyond topographical lines with rails and roads cutting lines between the seemingly sporadic hills and mountains, she spoke her curiosity once again. “Well what’s after that? I don’t see anywhere close by.”

Eagle went over it in his head for a short moment, pouring over what precious few towns were scattered across the Northern Wastelands, once again agitated by that very question. He spoke, half to himself as he thought aloud, lowly. “I was hoping to stop by a few of the small farming villages. Major towns are practically nonexistent and we’ve already left one of them. We’ve got Crystal City, Good Neighbor... and Van Hoover on the coast, but that’s at least two hundred and sixty plus miles from Good Neighbor considering the terrain. We are going there before we dip off into the Undiscovered West, at the very least for information.

“Beyond that... I know there’s a ranch roughly a day’s travel south-west of Good neighbor, run by a family called the ‘Shears’. All I know is that I don’t want to have to stop in town, which leaves us a little tight on supplies.”

“What if we have to though?”

Eagle gave a short scoff as Sparks dipped off into another bout of twenty questions, but a small resignation made him glad it was in light of something useful. If nothing else, it helped him plan and coordinate their journey with discussion, bouncing ideas back and forth aloud instead of simply allowing it all to congeal into an over stressed mash of thoughts. “There shouldn’t be a reason short of bad luck to force us to Good Neighbor, but... maybe since it’s been over a month since I left, things could have calmed down. Unlikely though, given how the town is.”

Sparks strode in silence for a spell, contemplating whether to ask about what had happened there that has him trying to avoid that town like the plague, before a sudden idea sprung forth that drowned her desire to know. She spoke somewhat optimistically as she remembered one of their recent acquaintances, despite the mare’s cold attitude. “What about Green? If she made it maybe she could help us out?”

Eagle sighed briefly, but admittedly wondered if the ex-Hoofington ganger could indeed help them out if the worst comes, or would. It would have been a few days at the most since her arrival there, and if they had to go there maybe a few more for her to settle in somewhere. For a moment, however, he wondered where she would. She was a ganger, and that meant most likely she would join in with a group somewhere; strength in numbers and such as well as old habits dying hard.

He hoped she would be smart and join the Gunponies, or at the very least keep herself away from the business end of the politics there, another nasty detail fueling his desire to avoid the town altogether, if he had to call on favors. She was useless dead, or buried to her eyes in that town’s problems.

In the end he simply shook his head of the thoughts, and merely cemented his wish to keep going on what little useful supply they had garnered from Crystal City, hoping all the while that he wouldn’t have to find out if Green could help them either way. “If we’re lucky, we won’t have to find out. No telling if she would be useful or not.”

Sparks looked down at her map again with a slight deflation of the ebbing enthusiasm she had. For a moment she knew that Green would help them, but she wondered if she truly would as her preconceptions of the world and ponies were dashed by a subtle worry that grew the longer she strode the chilly and mud riddled open Wasteland. ‘Would she’, she thought, and she hoped she would if the need arose.

She cleared her throat with a few grunting coughs as she moved on to her next question, and the curiosity in her voice was plainly spoken. “Well... what kind of ponies are these ‘Shears’? Do you know much about them?”

“Never went there in person myself, but if memory serves their cattle ranch sees decent business selling and breeding brahmin, so we should be able to trade our junk for lighter essentials.”

Eagle hoped so, at least. While he was glad that he and Sparks had some rations and munitions to spare, the sheer amount of clutter in both their saddlebags made the journey tiresome. Between the gifts of small parcels like ‘iguanas on sticks’, according to the ponies’ explanations, and cartridges for firearms neither of them had he wished to convert their useless goods and scrap to hard caps; at the very least anyways. He preferred useful supplies, but he wouldn’t turn down anything more tangible than half of what clinked and clattered in their nearly overfull saddlebags.

He was used to traveling light on his paws anyways, and Sparks, he scowled as he thought, wasn’t used to traveling long distances at all as a Stable dweller; never mind with a load of supplies and the like. He wondered how far her feeble and light build could carry her long term under such strain, or the fights and mad dashes sure to follow as he remembered her breathless gallops when she tried to keep up with him before. A passing thought alongside the rest spawned in his ever churning attempts of planning made him curious if they could find her some lighter armored barding that wouldn’t impair protection.

What she had was excellent considering the wasteland’s options, being a mixture of hard plated composite combat armor and ballistic fiber plates covering a decent amount of her body. Regardless of effectiveness however if she can’t wear it and maintain some semblance of endurance into the coming weeks or, fate forbid, months she would need a lighter suit of barding.

His scowl deepened as his eyes drilled the distant horizon, thinking harshly about how of all the escort jobs he’s been landed with Sparks was surely the worst, and breathing deeply he returned his wandering thoughts to the Shear’s family ranch as Sparks interjected her questions through his thought processes with worried tones. “You sure you’re okay Eagle? You get these... random spells of quiet and it’s starting to worry me a little...”

“I’m fine, just... We’ve got a lot of ground to cover... and I’m only used to worrying after myself. Haven’t had to travel with company this far in decades.”

At first Sparks nodded, accepting Eagle’s response as they trekked on to the west, but after a few moments her eyes beamed with a silent glee that gave a strange levity to her stride.

‘He’s... actually worrying about me! Or, at least... in some fashion...’ she thought, and despite the wondering of how exactly she let the thought comfort her that perhaps Eagle wasn’t as cold as he portrayed himself. He cared after her, at least for her safety, and with a growing smile that graced her lips she took heart in it.

That it was a start.

Footnote: Red Eagle level 22

Sparks level 4

Chapter 17: Wandering

Chapter 17: Wandering

Sparks wasn’t quite sure if it was her dimming rest deprived eyes or the setting sun behind the sickly drab cloud layer that made all her surroundings seem to grow dark of a sudden. She had passing thoughts that it was probably both, but after five and a half days’ worth of walking west, a rough hundred and ten miles crossed overall by her PipBuck’s reckoning with the least comfortable bedding she never even fathomed she’d use, she mused that she might not even have the good sense to know.

That’s what had plagued her mind from dawn to present dusk. Wisps, shadows, and perhaps hallucinations seemingly popped in and out of her distracted attention, and she didn’t know if they were real warnings or simply subconscious tricks. Her sore body from random spats of controlled stumbling through the rough terrain wasn’t helping in any way to answer these questions either, with throbbing hooves and knees; her belly and back sore from chafing barding.

She huffed and shook her body, adjusting the saddlebags mid-stride as she lagged slightly behind her escort, and spoke with a deep felt tiredness that made her words slurred mush with a yawn. “You... were right Eagle... All this... this walking is making me batty...”

He gave a short single chuckle in the form of a snort from his beak, and after shaking his head as he fought the urge to let her yawn affect him. He spoke dryly with a barely audible, yet matching fatigue. “And we’re not even started yet.”

Despite his grim tones, he had admittedly been impressed by her determination from the time spent so far on the road. He knew though that, given time, she would buckle under the strain of this travel. He had seen it enough times to know the evidence; the straggling and off patterned hoof falls, the glazed expression of a fatigued mind and body, all of it told Eagle the one thing he didn’t want to do but more than likely would have to.

To him, it was a silent aggravation. He had spent years going his own pace, and now with seemingly innumerable miles ahead of him and his charge he had to make changes, or suffer the consequences. Normally he could clear twenty four miles of a day by paw, and with his wings and a light load he could nearly double that if he pushed himself. Now? With Sparksin tow who bore neither wings nor the endurance so common in others? They would be lucky to clear fifteen if he continued pushing his standard pace.

For a moment he wanted to shelve the dilemma and deal with it later, but with a sudden urge to speak about it he cleared his throat and spoke. His tones were serious, yet curious as his mind continued to churn about it. It made Sparks’ ears perk; ravenous for stimulation. “So... how long do you think you can keep this pace up? We’ve made decent time so far, but watching you trip over your own boots these past two days makes me think you won’t last.”

At first, her mind’s glaze fogged her eyes subtly and she had to shake her head somewhat vigorously before the question registered. She sighed for a moment before speaking, the confusion in her mind and fatigue in her bones emanating through her voice. “Decent...? I’ve been thinking that... that we’ve been practically flying our here..!”

“Not even close, kid. I got to The Hoof from Crystal City in twenty four days; a record probably if any creature cared, but roughly twenty four miles a day makes our pace a light breeze in comparison.” He had to suppress a more vicious remark about her stamina as he rolled his eyes. “Another three or four days at this rate and you won’t be useful for anything but holding down a bedroll.”

He shook his head as he fought his own urges to yawn again from Sparks’ tired words, but he repeated the question, raising his head with a deep breath through his nostrils. “Anyways, the point is how far do you think you can go before collapsing. The point of this is to get there alive and mostly whole, not missing your legs.”

“I... I don’t know Eagle... honestly, cross-country wasn’t a course back home.” She shook her body again as she couldn’t manage to get her pack to sit right, but no matter how much she adjusted it, even as Red Eagle had instructed once as she complained, she couldn’t manage to. “Even if it were, I’d guess carrying... another pony on your back wouldn’t be part of it.”

“As I’ve said already girl, you’re out in the real world now.”

“I know, I know... If I had to guess I’d probably make... twenty miles a day if I didn’t have all this crap on me..!”

“Not an option. We need supplies and I can’t carry enough for the two of us.” Sparksgave an agitated huff as she eyed her packs with malevolence.

“Well it seems to be an impasse then. I feel like I’m going to break my back here with all this, and all this walking with it is killing me!”

“I know, it’s been hard to watch honestly. Most ponies I’ve seen can carry twice your load and make double the time, truth be told.”

“I’m not ‘most ponies’ alright? I’m sure you’ve noticed that, yes?”

“That much I’ve seen, and heard. Most ponies are solid enough, even young as you are; but you? Cushiest Stable dweller I’ve seen.”

His comment irked Sparks, and she grimaced beneath her pack’s weight again as she shook her body with a huff. Feeling a need to prove herself, she stood taller and caught up with Eagle’s pace. “I’ll try to keep up, alright? Just... try to remember that I’m not used to this... this place. Despite all you could say about it. I’ve never dealt with all this walking before, and I’m going to need a break-in period. Alright?”

“As long as we can cover more ground in the coming weeks, I suppose we’ll have to.”

Eagle grunted in his chagrin. He supposed he’d have to make changes to accommodate her lack of endurance. Give her time to adjust. He just hated the idea of escorting that very type of pony; inexperienced, weak and stupid to the realities of this bombed out desert life. “In the end though Sparks, we’ll need to cover more ground. That is my ultimatum. I’ll give you time to get used to this, but you’ll have to learn how to pace yourself properly against my pace. I’ve been wandering these lands for years now, and normally I’d be able to leave anyone in the dust. You? You’re easy to lose in these deserts.

“But... I suppose I’ll need to be somewhat lenient. No Stable dweller has ever been good at crossing close to this kind of distance out of those blast doors. Many have probably just died of starvation or dehydration out in these conditions, and I need to ensure your safety.”

Sparks’ eyes flickered at the recurrent care that Eagle had toward her, and she decided to pursue it as she spoke. “What do you mean? I know that walking long-distance sucks but what else could open and empty Wasteland hold for us?”

“More than you know, girl. More that you know. There’s a reason I’m so, well... there’s a reason I’m wanting this to be over as fast as possible.”

Sparks’ imagination flew at the possibilities; what made Red Eagle afraid of traipsing around The Wastes? She knew it in his words, his omissions she recognized. There was something, or some things, that made him ‘nervous’ about it. She didn’t have a clue though, and the fatigue of the journey so far wore her desire to wonder about it down to nothing more than the continual trudge they maintained.

Mile after mile, hour after hour, they finally made camp inside the dilapidated ruins of another pre-war corpse. The campfire and rough-shod campsite gave little comfort, and, in the end, she fell to sleep again out of pure hunger for rest; despite the quality of bedding available.

*** *** ***

The next day that the sun rose above the horizon, Eagle and Sparks packed up their campsite after breakfast, sparing as it was with dwindling supplies, and continued off into the vast Wastelands that Sparks swore seemed to continue forever without end. After half a day’s worth of walking they finally saw on the horizon the outcroppings of a town basking in the afternoon sky.

Small and miniscule on the horizon it may have seemed, but Eagle seemed a touch relieved that they had found it as he subtly sighed. “There should be the Shears, out that way, north-east of us.”

He popped his neck in anticipation of whatever might have happened next, andSparks looked to him with curiosity. “Are you expecting trouble Eagle? Didn’t you say it was a simple farming village?”

“Yeah, but no telling what kind of place it actually is until we go there. I know they have cattle, but possibly they may trade in scrap and the like with scavengers. Might be a small town growing slowly into the beginnings of a major town. Either way, they’re somewhat isolated with the distances, and they don’t precisely have any true bearing on the northern wastes at large; I think. That’s the crux of it.

“They could be partly responsible for half of the towns nearby, or have no such power. In the end what that means is a wildcard town, and we need to see it before we make plans.”

Sparks sighed at the complexity that Eagle spoke of. In the Stable, you had certain groups of course, but at large the entire Stable worked together towards the common goal of... well, survival? That’s what she supposed, and in the end the seeming spiral of Wastelandic ‘politics’ as she understood it was confusing. All these disparate settlements almost everywhere and they all seemed concerned with only their own wellbeing.

She didn’t understand it, despite her attempts, and simply looked to Eagle with her best carefree expression. “Well, one way to find out I suppose. We’ve been... been wandering around too long without some social... erm, stimulus, I’d say.”

Eagle grunted in response, and ironically the very stimulus she wanted was exactly what he feared. Ponies, or any creature, represented certain dangers to him. New places, new cultures and such to learn the practices as to not offend or start fights with, and the Shears ranch fit the bill with an ultimate unknown. Almost as much as The Divide itself as it sat on its own horizon.

“I guess.” He said, and they both trudged their way to the village on the horizon.

*** *** ***

The Shears’ place seemed, at first glace, as much as Eagle had expected. A large barn in the middle of nowhere with a large expanse of ‘grazing grounds’ for brahmin to graze; only... it seemed, for lack of better words to him, empty. The field was expansive, the cattle numerous and the field of crops respectable enough, however somewhere a detail irked him. It might have been the lack of workers maintaining the fields in the middle of a crop season, or maybe the sheer lack of any pony nearby he could see.

Either way, he tread cautiously, much to Sparks’ confusion. “What’s wrong Eagle?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know. Too damn empty; too calm and quiet.”

The lack of stimulus set him on edge, and the emptiness made his eyes dart too and fro as his body carried him in seemingly careless motions. This was a town, small as it may be, and it demanded some activity. Yet with nothing but to trot on he approached with Sparks in tow.

“Too be honest...” Sparks said as she scanned the horizon, scowling slightly “It doesn’t look like anypony’s here.”

“Don’t be fooled,” Eagle said, drawing from experience “odds are they saw us a mile off. Might be ducked into cover, trained guns on us.”

The thought didn’t give Sparks any comfort, and her darting eyes didn’t reveal any hidden attackers or ambushes she could see; the lack of evidence merely spurring her to deeper concern.

Eventually, after a seemingly long and paranoia-stricken walk, they ended up within thirty hooves of the gate before both Eagle and Sparks heard the metallic locking of bolts in rifles. Eagle froze, yet Sparks’ eyes darted too and fro all the more vigorously before the strangely accented voice of some creature -a female- rang through the silence from the barn. “Now I dunno whut you two are doin’ ‘ere, but yuh gotta head on back the way yah came, yah hear!?”

“No worries ma’am,” Eagle said aloud, with a calm and soothing voice as best his coarseness allowed “we’re simple travelers... Hoping we could find trade here, actually!”

“An’ yah expect me tuh believe that!? Raiders are willin’ to say anythin’ these days!”

“Honest, ma’am! You can shoot us otherwise!”

“How about ah just shoot yah now; save me thuh trouble!?”

“Now wait uh moment,” another voice rang out from the barn, male this time “Ah don’t think these are raiders Butter! Wouldn’t look so... civilized otherwise! Often they wear weird shit like road signs an’ such”

“Oh come on, yah trust too easy Cheery!” Said the mare, shouting a skeptical tone. “Could be any critter wearing that fuckin’ getup! An’ when wuz the last time yah saw a damn griffon in these here parts that weren’t part of a gang!?”

“True, but even then they tend to not be as modest as this’ un!” Said the male with a skeptical tone all his own. “Besides, this un doesn’t seem at all like the types of raiders Ah’ve seen!”

“Yeah, more like a damn merc is whut!” The female declared loudly, yet with a barely audible sigh she relented finally. “Fine. If they shoot up thuh place, it’s totally on yah!”

Again in Eagle’s life, he sighed in relief as snipers decided against wasting him on the spot, and he looked over to Sparks as he gave a small nod of comfort.

Sparks, however, was paralyzed with fear of the unknown. Her limbs trembled with anticipation, not truly knowing what a ‘disagreement’ would promise, and despite the easiness of Eagle her hoof falls were sporadic and reflected her emotions.

As they neared the large door of the barn it opened, revealing two figures who they presumed the voices belonged to up front, and Eagle caught a third back behind the cover of a few barrels. Only, to their surprise for different reasons, for Eagle the oddness and for Sparksthe fact she had never seen a creature like them before, they stopped in their tracks.

Who was before them were donkeys, in all their lack of chromatic and visual flair that ponies might have, and their appearances were downtrodden, wrinkly and aged brown spotty coats and, to Eagle’s recognition, well-worn by years and years of manual labor.

“Besides...” said Cheery, presumably, of the two, with an expression of smugness as he adjusted the patchwork rifle on his side, suspended by a sling “when’s thuh last time yah done saw a raider wearing that getup? A damned Stable suit? Yah gotta be kiddin’ me here if yah think a Stable dweller would last long enough to become a raider!”

“Not now Cheery,” Butter said, rolling her eyes with a distrustful expression “yah know as well as Ah that any raider worth their watah would stoop to anythin’ to throw us off guard...” She cleared her throat as she adjusted her own rifle, much like Cheery’s, and she fixed Eagle with an expression of wary, and reluctant, hospitality. “Well now, whut duh yah want out of our little rayunch? Yah said yah were in need of tradin’?”

“Yeah,” Eagle said, keeping a level expression as best he could to keep a good first impression “Trade is what we’re after. Food and provisions that’ll keep for a while, mostly. Water too, if you’ve got some to spare.”

“Hmph, figures...” Butter said with a huffing disbelief “always such with yah damn wanderers... Alright, we gots jerkys an’ canned veggies. More importantly, whaddaya got for trade?”

“A lot.” Eagle said, tilting his head with dismissal. “More that we can carry, to be honest. Bullets for guns we don’t have, some creature comforts like soda, standard caravan fluffing.”

“Well then, Ah suppose we may have business to... conduct, yeah.” Butter said, chuckling with reluctance. “But know now, ah got my eyes on yah, haven’t seen uh griffon nor Stable dweller since years ago; yah better be on the level wit me.”

“I always am on the level, ma’am.” Eagle said, nodding. Butter snorted in skeptical dismissal as she turned around and went back into the barn house, and Cheery merely smiled with and odd grin as he eyed Eagle and Sparks up and down.

“Please forgive thuh ‘hospitality’ we country folk have tah give y’all. Ain’t been a peaceful month in some while; got raiders and gangers festerin’ in them there hills and ruins. Don’t have much in the way of protection out here, never did save for caravaners. Oh, forgive mah jawin’ strangers, my name’s Cheery, her’s is Butter -my wife- and back there’s mah boy Roothoof. Even though she’d never admit it we’re happy to have yah here in the ‘Shear’s Family Farm’, run by us Shears.”

“The name’s Red Eagle, and this is Sparks.” Eagle said as he gestured a talon between him and her, and she nodded and tried to speak. Yet her voice still carried the fear from earlier, not to mention the wonder in her eyes for seeing a donkey for the first time.

“Uh, well... thanks for the, uh...” Sparks swallowed hard, and choked down her trembles to speak clearly. “Well, thanks for not shooting us!”

“Never did like tah shoot ponies -or any critter in general. Mama always did say I had a soft heart like that. But nevermind all that, it’s behind us now Eagle and Sparks. Why don’t yah come on in and we’ll see whut we can hash out for yah. Trade oughta loosen the tension in that old firebrand in there.”

When Eagle and Sparks entered the barn, the first overwhelming sensation was that of the unwashed stench of brahmin dung. It was clean, well... clean enough for a barn, but the wooden structure managed to trap the smell quite well as both their noses flared from the violation. Eagle had to shake his head vigorously from long forgetting that smell, and Sparksclamped her nose shut with a hoof trying to fight it -her eyes watering.

Cheery looked at them and gave a hearty laugh as he shook his head. “Y’all city folk then? This is a good day actually, thuh chill’s made it bearable enough, and what with winter coming on thuh stench ain’t too terrible. Nothin’ like a good ol’ snap freeze to-”

“Cheery, enough with thuh banter!” Butter shouted loudly, turning to them as she stood in front of an assortment of crates and boxes. “Bring ‘em over here so we can conclude this little visit. Ah ain’t keen on keepin’ strangers here fer social calls. And you, Root, go ahead and get to yer chores boy; if yah hear shooting you know where tah go.”

“Yes mama...” the young donkey said as he slung his rickety rifle across his side to be more convenient to wear, turned about and picked up a nearby bucket in his mouth and left outside.

Eagle watched him leave and Cheery sidle up next to his wife as he put on a wide smile. “So, yuh said you were wanting some, whutwuzit...? Oh, watah and shelf-stable goods. Watah’s easy enough, nice well house out back, but we ain’t got any of those ol’ army job food packs, those plastic bags and such, but we do got some canned stuff. All grown here on the Shear’s farm and ranch. If yuh want some jerkys we got some of that too, and we got some old pre-war boxed stuff ‘round here.”

“Never trusted those ‘Tee-Vee’ dinners,” Eagle said, shaking his head with a level expression “but I am interested in everything else you said.”

“Yeah, those box meals don’t usually go down easy. Often times I wonder whut a ‘Tee-Vee’ even was -or ‘Instant Macaroni’ for that mattah-, but anyways let’s see whut yah got Eagle! Spread it out over this box and we’ll see whut we can do.”

*** *** ***

The trade went off smoothly, well mostly smooth as it were. Cheery kept up his strange charm and tangents while Butter consistently chastised him for it, all the while the donkey mare proved her shrewdness across the exchange. The bullets and miscellaneous oddments from the townsfolk of Crystal City’s generosity in gifts went towards bartering for the canned produce that the Shears grew, as well as a healthy supply of dried brahmin meat for Eagle. Sparks’ face twisted with distaste as Eagle wolfed a strip down and offered her one.

She had sat down for the time on a makeshift bench made of worn boxes and boards for the time, her hooves throbbing and her back greatly relieved to have the weight off for a time as she merely slumped down. She checked her PipBuck occasionally, and an hour had passed as the world delved into evening darkness, a sparse set of ramshackle oil lamps lighting up the barn house’s interior.

She watched as Eagle haggled with Butter, back and forth they went on the value of certain items or their worth to their homestead, and in the end the trading was done. What was useless junk was converted into useful foodstuffs, and their packs were markedly lighter in weight as they hoisted them, but Sparks turned to Eagle who seemed ready to leave. “Hey Eagle, I was wondering...”

“That can be dangerous.”

Sparks rolled her eyes, but adjusted her packs to fig more snugly; the comparative weight replaced with bulk. “Seriously, I’m wondering if the Shears would mind us spending the night here. It’s nearly eight o’clock after all.”

“I thought of that earlier, and the less time we spend here the better. Besides, they’d charge us caps for the night.” Eagle scowled as he fasted his pack on more securely, looking over his back. “We don’t have much money, practically broke as it is and the junk we still have they don’t want. Wouldn’t be carrying it otherwise.”

“Something else is bothering you Eagle, what is it?”

“Well...” He said, glowering outside. “To be honest, I don’t trust small towns like this; too small, exposed. Only three donkeys here, maybe some other workers out and about we haven’t seen, and a day’s walk from the ruins east of here doesn’t comfort me; that’s Good Neighbor territory. Otherwise, you heard Cheery, there’s been raider and slaver attacks. We need to be a mile away from that type of shitstorm.”

“What are the odds we’d get attacked if we just spend one night here though?”

“Worse than you’d think. Last time I checked though we have a small town a ways west of here. Should be abandoned and we can camp there for the night -no one to charge us for shacking up in an abandoned house and little in the way of interruption.”

“Well...” Sparks said, sighing as her hooves began to throb under the weight again. “I suppose you’re right.”

She checked her PipBuck’s map and found the place he spoke of. A small town indeed, one that lay on the railroad east of the ‘Unicorn Range’ mountains directly southwards of a large and lush forest that flanked the western ridge of the ‘Galloping Gorge’-according to the map’s information. But just to the northeast of them sat ‘Good Neighbor’, a place of which her curiosity grew as she thought of it. She rubbed her eyes, clicked off the PipBuck with her magic and followed Eagle outside; her sore body rebelling against it.

And off they strode into the nearly pitch black evening world beyond.

*** *** ***

“Hold up.” Eagle said, staring into the distance as he and Sparks’ stood at the edge of the town next to the tracks. He was sniffing the air intently. “You smell that?”

“Erm... no?” She said as she started sniffing around, finding nothing odd or out of the ordinary. “What do you mean?”

“Wood smoke. Damn it, some creature’s got a campfire nearby.” He whispered coarsely, and his eyes panned back and forth across the horizon, but not a light or beacon pierced the darkness. “And... whoever they are they’re hiding it well. Indoors -they don’t want to be found.”

“I know we’ve done similar before,” Sparks said, taking a look around “but what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that we’re close enough to smell burning wood and we haven’t got any visual contact. A fire would be like a beacon out here in the dark. Whoever it is is hiding; that could mean anything, be it wanderers like us or traders...” he scowled into the blackness, his beak a grimace “or raiders. Might be the party going after the Shears.”

“You think so?” She said, now searching for any distant details she might find as she hoped for something. She found none though, which only deepened her paranoia fed by Eagle. “Didn’t Cheery say they were in some ruins?”

“Yeah, and maybe this town could be one of them. Damnit...!” He cursed in muffled tones, wondering if they should take their chances with them. After a time of conflict he turned around and told Sparks to follow, and so they trotted on into the town and hugged the walls away from streets as best they could; despite the piles of rubble between the buildings making passage past some difficult.

After a time of silent striding Eagle cursed again under his breath. There, through a boarded window ahead of them, were slivers of orange-white light peering from between the boards. They sidled up to them quietly and Eagle peered inside, and much to his chagrin he found the forms within bustling about, and their garbs matched their tones and words.

Raiders, all of them wearing that same old fashioned hodgepodge barding; their words as Eagle heard were hushed but audible enough to hear them. “So Garnet, whaddaya feeling ‘bout tomorrow? Thinking those mules’ll just lay down and die fer us?”

The raider, a stallion, spoke gruffly with an odd accent -somewhat urban and rural combined- and the mare he spoke to beside him merely chuckled. “Not a doubt in my mind they’ll make shit excitin’. Stubborn bastards. They’ve repelled a lot of other gangs before, but now without their precious guards, most of ‘em about and all and us outnumberin’ them it oughta be a cakewalk.” She chuckled again in her coarse but lightly toned voice, and Eagle kept his ear to the window as she continued. “Besides, what use is there being in a raider gang when there isn’t a little excitement Churl? I thought you liked the action.”

“Well, yeah ah do, but honestly as long as ah got myself some food I’ll call the day a victry; haven’t had a square meal in days.”

“I know pal, I know. Honestly, what’s Flash thinkin’ hoardin’ all the food like he is, leaving us with huntin’ for scraps and game?”

“He ain’t, that’d be my two bits. Ain’t like we can exactly bitch at him about it either.”

Eagle’s brow furrowed slightly as they spoke; they were beyond doubt a gang that hunted after the Shears’ resources -food in particular he took into consideration. If they were hungry, or starving he darkly hoped, then such a gang may be easier to get past without trouble. Only problem was they would be forced to take a detour, neither of them had exactly gotten much rest since morning, and Sparks, to his chagrin, needed it far more than he.

He turned around and breathed deeply, got close to Sparks and spoke in whispers. “Alright, we’re going to have to take a detour. These ponies are camping in these ruins and we can’t risk staying here tonight. We’ll head back out into the open desert and find another spot.”

Despite her grumbles of agitation Sparks kept quiet about it. She huffed and nodded as she tried to stretch out her aching hooves to little avail, and Eagle turned around heading back the way they came. After a short jaunt back out of the ruins he asked her to look on her map for other spots they could use, but nothing but open landscapes surrounded them for far further than they could cross before weariness drained them. He sighed angrily, and, much to his chagrin, decided to camp out in the open spaces.

He hoped that he could find some sheltered alcove to nestle them inside, but before long into the night did Sparks effectively collapse from exhaustion. So they made camp beside a hill and rested until morning without a campfire to warm them in the black as pitch chilling night.

*** *** ***

In the night, a sudden and excessively chilling breeze barreled through Sparks’ blanket and barding, and the near complete lose of warmth ripped her from her shivering sleep. She and Eagle had camped out in the open before once or twice, but with a new level of hatred against The Wasteland’s winds she glowered to the east over her shoulder; their source.

She was fed up with it, to put it bluntly and much to her own lack of better words. She curled up tighter as the wind began to die down, hugging her blanket tightly against herself. She huffed a sigh, shook her head and stared around their impromptu campsite to find Eagle perched up and staring off into the distance beyond.

She tilted her head up with a groggy expression and spoke to him. “You alright Eagle?”

“No, but I’ll manage.” He said without moving save for his beak. “This damn weather isn’t doing either of us any good it seems.”

“Heh...” she half laughed, grumbling “no it isn’t; at all.”

“I would say try to get some rest but I don’t think you’ve gotten more than thirty minutes worth so far.” He took his eyes of the distance and stared at her, his expression flat. “This cold’s hell, so no fault of yours.”

She mumbled in agreement, but for a moment wondered why it was that cold at all. While she had been used to an air conditioned Stable this, quite literally, polar opposite was murder on her thin coat and skin. She bundled tighter again, trying to ball up and cut the air off of most of her form. “Why is it this... damn cold anyways?” She whispered wearily, and shivered again. “I don’t think it should be this cold...”

“For starters the seasons are changing. Cheery said that winter’s closing in.” Eagle said, sighing that she didn’t simply opt to rest. “Other than that, well... I’d guess it’s the frozen hellscape north of us; the Crystal Mountains; downdrafts and all that.”

“The... Crystal Mountains?” She asked, and Eagle had to suppress a scoff as she continued. “I remember hearing about that in Geography class; huge mountain range to the north?”

“Yeah,” he said as he scratched a beak “that’s them. Cold all year round with a nasty habit of making it freezing around here in winter. Bad season for us if we stay around here.”

Sparks wondered just how much colder it could possibly get, and would have asked except for her wandering thoughts about the mountains themselves. Geography class had taught her of the basics of that great big region of mountainous terrain, but she remembered that history class had something to say about it too; albeit she didn’t remember it presently. “What do you know of them?”

“Well...” Eagle said, dryly “what I know is that they’re a big and nearly impossible mountain range to cross, other than that you can find Yakyakistan deep into the peaks. Overall though, you’re much better off just heading south for greener pastures.” He paused for a moment, and shivered slightly from the chilling breeze. “To be honest not much of any creature knows much of that area, other than the obvious; hellish cold and winds to make the hardiest caravan think twice. No creatures really go into the mountains.”

He shivered again, and wrapped his coat up tighter as Sparks did the same.

“So...” she said, attentively “nopony really knows what’s up there?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I know that lack of knowing pisses off a few of the caravans; could be some major settlements up there to trade with, like the yaks, but they’re the only creatures who could survive that journey for long. No caravans have come from them either, so it’s a bust.” He scratched his beak in contemplation, and dug into his memory for other clues to that mysterious region. “I do recall that I heard somewhere of some ‘Crystal Empire’ being up there. Pony city, supposedly had magic to rival that of Canterlot back in the day, but no creatures’ seen or heard of what happened to it.”

“Crystal Empire?” Sparks said curiously as she tilted her head. “I... vaguely remember that, but it was in ancient Equestrian history; I think it had just... vanished or something, then reappeared one day.”

“You’d know more than I would.” Eagle said and shrugged, a lack of care on his face. “As far as I’m concerned it’s fairytale hearsay -some legend that circulates the towns. Could be it has historical basis, sure, but no creature today has seen a pony come out of there and talked, save for liars and drunkards maybe.” He sighed, deep in thought as the conversation led him to their own task ahead of them. “Much like this ‘Institute’ I suppose. The only reason I believe they exist is simply because of that ‘Synth’ we saw.”

His words were hard, yet edged with suspense to learn what truly could produce such a thing. He had been thinking on that very subject for days, and after drawing blanks he turned to Sparks and asked his own questions. “What do you know of them? I know information is sparse and such, but anything extra could help out.”

Sparks frowned a little, and scratched her chin with a blanket bound hoof as she had wondered that herself. She propped herself up a little and spoke somewhat hesitantly. “Well... the Enclave officer had said was their files listed terribly little on them. They value their secrecy, that much is certain, and... well, I’d say they’re also pretty tech savvy. That Synth was definitely a fine example of that.”

“That much I’ve gathered myself,” he said, shifting “I’m more curious as to who or what they are specifically.”

“The officer had said they could be anything; a secret Pre-War military bunker, some secret unlisted Stable maybe, even a cabal of scientists with their brains in jars.” She said, chuckling a little at the last one; the idea seemed preposterous to her. “They didn’t know much of anything about them, save for they had some impressive technology and a lot of resources that they could use.”

“Seems like little more than wild speculation; brains in jars?” He scoffed slightly, shaking his head “I’ve seen brain-bots before, but they’re not exactly what I’d call ‘sane’.”

Sparks shrugged with a chuckle. “Yeah, that one made me laugh too, but the pony had a hard look about him. He might have seriously believed that last one, which...” She sighed, and a small measure of anxiety crossed her face. “I don’t know, but it makes me wonder if that’s actually possible. They’d have the technology for it if they wanted to do something like that though.”

“Yeah,” Eagle glowered into the distance “if they put that much love and care into a simple machine there’s no telling what else they’ve got in their sleeves.”

A period of silence fell over the camp as the wild and frigid wind continued to vary between gentle breezes to hammering gales, and Sparks tried her best to defend against it to no avail. Yet after a time, her heavy eyelids closed again, and managed to find sleep despite it all.

*** *** ***

Several hours later Sparks had been pulled from her sleep again, quite viciously so as a sudden gust of wind had sliced completely through her blanket without mercy. She shuddered awake and shivered fiercely, and she rolled out of her impromptu bedding with traces of hatred on her face. “Damn wind...!” She cursed in whispers.

She stood up quietly from the ground and looked over to Eagle to find him sleeping over a few paces. She frowned a little, and wondered if he truly was asleep. She hoped so and cursed at the wind again; a fate she wished on nopony.

However the waking had an advantage, sort of. Her bladder ached against her, and she made her quiet, yet clumsily sore way out of their camp site to find some secluded spot to relieve herself. It took her far more time than she was comfortable with, and the act even more so as the desert winds blasted against her bare flanks. She quickly put her Stable suit back on after she was finished, and while she did, out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw movement.

She froze in place; eyes shot wide as she scanned around for anything out of the ordinary and she would have broke a sweat were it not for the frigid air. Just as sudden as she saw it however a pair of sickly green lights shone from the darkness. She reflexively ducked down from the visage, reminded of the glowing eyes of the alicorns, but after a time she poked her head out to see the lights hovering a short distance away.

The light came from some shadowy figure in the darkness, but from what little she could see it was no pony, and definitely no other shape she expected from some living creature. She stood up a little, her eyes still wide from the startle.

“Hello...?” No response, at least in ponish. All that she heard was a low humming noise along with a barely audible racket like machinery with the wind. She spoke again, cautiously as she stood up completely, head tilted. “Are you... friendly?”

This time she heard a somewhat cacophonic series of beeps and bleeps hidden in static, and for a moment she could have sworn it was like a reply. She tilted her head curiously at the floating green lights, and cautiously flipped the light on her PipBuck on. What she saw was... strange at best.

Sparks eyed the floating... machine, with a curious suspicion. It was one of those ‘flying radio’ sprite-bots that Eagle had dismissed earlier early yesterday morning, and he had said they were ‘of little consequence’. This was the second one of its kind that she had seen, yet this one seemed... brave in a word, and it also seemed to demonstrate 'body language' -if she could call it that- along with its droning cascade of beeps and static.

The physical details of its form were far sharper as close as it was, and she took a moment to examine it. It had a set of insectoid wings, pale green in a blur as they fluttered a blur like a hummingbird's. They kept it a few feet from the ground level with her eyes, and the body was an orb shaped bare steel case battered with dings, dents, and scratches that crisscrossed its surface. Within the center grating of its ‘face’ she saw the dull glowing sickly green lights, presumably some vacuum-tubes within it.

Overall, the machine had an artistically derived design, one that frequented Pre-War Equestrian technology and architecture, and she tilted her head as she scrutinized the noises it spewed. For a moment, just a single odd moment, she seemed to recognize a sort of pattern in the incessant beeping, and despite her feeling it was crazy she decided to speak to the 'flying radio'; she suspected there was more than met the eye with these things.

"H-hello? Are you... can you understand me?" More static, only it seemed much more direct this time. There was a markedly different tone to it for a few seconds. She tilted her head again, eyes squinting as she wondered aloud. "I wonder... some kind of code maybe?"

She sat down and brought up her PipBuck, her telekinesis working the controls as she employed one of her technical know-how’s. She pulled out a transfer cable and attached it to her PipBuck and held the cable out in her magic. The machine was visibly curious itself, as it flew closer inch by inch. It seemed to keep its distance though.

"Okay, lets try this." She said, presenting the cable’s plug. "If you’ve got a port I can plug this into you. I might have a way to understand you, little guy."

A small smile crossed her lips, and the machine paused for a moment, recoiling from her a little. However, after a few moments it lazily fluttered to her and presented a port that she plugged the cable into, and the static barrage formed a far more coherent litany of beeps and bleeps, albeit still half fogged by the ever-present static from its speakers.

She looked at the text file that was created on her PipBuck’s ‘Notes’ section, and she saw that what the machine was speaking was nothing more than an audio rendition of Robronco's coding. She smiled widely at the revelation, and tried to discern what it said from the code on the screen. After a few moments of reading, she recognized it.

'My name -pause- is Watcher. And yes -pause- I understand you.'

She nodded and looked at the sprite-bot and paused as the machine seemed to merely float there without coercion or otherwise, but before long she exclaimed lamely and grunted; the night’s troubles having worn her down.

“Watcher, eh...?” She said somewhat puzzled, and the question was responded in kind by more coding appearing on the screen; a subtle electronic ticking and clicking warble followed each added letter.

‘Yes -pause- that’s my name.’

“That’s a... an odd name for a little sprite-bot, isn’t it?”

‘Well -pause- yes I must agree -pause- but being truthful I’m not a sprite-bot -pause- I’m only using this to -pause- ‘look around’ as it were -pause- ‘Watching’.’

A hint of understanding sparkled in her eyes as she nodded her head. Somepony -or some creature- was using the machine as a sort of drone to look around. Kind of prudent she concluded, but she wondered towards this particular creature’s intentions. “‘Watching’? What for if you don’t mind my asking? We aren’t exactly nearby anywhere important -kind of the middle of nowhere actually.”

‘Sorry -pause- but I kind of do mind it -pause- Taking a big risk just talking with you actually.’

Sparks was confused for a moment, but her sleep deprivation caused her to shake her head dismissively and chuckle a touch at the floating machine. She didn’t truly care enough presently to ask after such details, but as it said it minded it. She shook her head again, her confusion having found another path of questioning she decided to follow.

“Why are you talking in Robronco’s coding little guy? That sprite-bot should have a speaker or... well, anything for audio.” She grimaced a touch, and spoke cautiously to the machine. “Somepony told me that these machines are basically flying radios; ought to be a speaker.”

‘You mean Red Eagle over there I take it?’ Sparks had to fight the urge to have a surprised expression, but the text continued. ‘Honestly -pause- I think this one’s just busted or something -pause- no telling since I -pause- well -pause- I basically just highjack their signals -pause- I suppose a hundred years of exposure does a number on those things systems.’

The machine, or ‘Watcher’ as it said, bobbed in the air as the wind picked up into a fierce gale, and the shivering Sparks had reminded her of her need to sleep at least some that night; or morning, as she found out grimacing at the screen’s clock. It was just after three o’clock. “To be honest, I’ve got to get more sleep... Yesterday was terrible and with this weather I’ve barely gotten any rest. Thanks for letting have a civil -if not strange- discussion, but if you could be so generous-”

Her PipBuck screen lit up with more text from Watcher, the ticks and clicks emanating as the machine bobbed again, yet it seemed anxious this time -as if to keep her attention. ‘No wait Sparks -pause- I need to tell you something -pause- I would have contacted you sooner but Red Eagle difficult to evade.’

“Wait, how in...? Alright how do you know my name?”

‘No time Sparks -pause- I wish I had time to answer all your questions but the short answer is-’ The text file suddenly cut off, the machine bobbed a little as the wind blew lazily and Sparks fixed the sprite-bot with a curious gaze.

She checked the cable, which was still plugged in, and she tapped on the sprite-bot’s casing, trying to elicit some response. She got none and frowned at it. “Um... hello? Watcher...?”

Nothing. The machine and its messages ceased and suddenly the little sprite-bot merely began to hover off. The cable seized it and drew taught, but it just twisted around and pulled itself free as if either of them, the machine or the creature behind it, had long interest of a sudden. She knew that wasn’t the case, as Watcher seemed adamant to tell her something there, but her aching limbs cried for relief and she shook the dilemma from her head.

The sprite-bot drifted off into the bleakness, becoming little more than a pair of green lights as it meandered beyond. “Well, alright then...” She sighed, fighting a yawn as she shivered fiercely. She smacked her lips and stretched out her body before she went back into camp as quietly as she could manage. Eagle was still sleeping, she thought at least, and she cuddled back up into her bedroll with a greedy desire for warmth.

Before she slept though her interest was piqued, and more thoughts and contemplations entered her mind as she lay. When Watcher had said something about Eagle it irked her a little, and she didn’t know why; or at least didn’t know why Watcher held that apprehension for him. Sure she knew he was rather callous and hard, and a good killer, but beyond that she knew little of him personally. If anything, she felt sorry for him.

That wormed its way into her mind until she slept again; that Watcher tried to warn her of something, but of what?

Footnote: Red Eagle Level 22

Sparks Level 4

Chapter 18: No Way out but Through

Chapter 18: No Way out but Through

Red Eagle sat over the campsite as he stared outwards into the bleak early morning atmosphere. It was dark, filled with strange smells and sounds of the night, and of course, above all else, frigid to the core as his body shivered against the railing winds from the beyond.

He had gotten little sleep that night, and the few nights before. He had cursed under his breath for having forgotten the season’s changes, a fact that Cheery had reminded him of yesterday, and their cold sleepless nights had been the direct punishment of that mistake; one that he chastised himself over. Even for all the while he had stayed in the Northern Wastes he had never gotten used to the biting cold, and it was comparatively heaven for the short escapade down south. The falls of the south were cold, yes, but he never had any love for the horrendously cold northern winters that plagued the region.

The only defense he had presently was little better than Sparks’, a thick woolen blanket and his barding to hopefully keep the cold off his coat and skin, but the violent shivering fits didn’t cease no matter how hard he tried; the wind found ways to touch them regardless. It angered him, amongst other things, but all he could do was wait it out and hope for better shelters in the coming days.

This little hovel, little more than a destroyed shack from before The War, wasn’t his first choice, or his second, not even his third. Open desert winds railing against them both did little for fortitude in the next day’s journey, and for some unseen reason, be it mere seasonal shifts or sheer bad luck, the weather that night was indescribably terrible. He would have continued to ruminate on that subject for the next hour or so, or until he finally managed to get some sleep, but right on the edges of his hearing he heard something worse than the wind and restless night combined.

Hoofsteps; lots of them some direction to the northwest of them.

His eyes scanned towards the sound, and he listened intently for any more as his body lost all its progress towards sleep. As the winds died down, he heard it clear as day, and as he looked out with a laser focus he saw what he swore was a pony in some raider styled barding off in the distance. He wasn’t certain though, but the seeming retinue that followed him created a shifting shadow that Eagle knew was forced marching through open desert.

“At this hour...?” He whispered to himself, but he girded against the cold as he slowly picked himself up and packed his belongings into his saddlebags. He looked over to Sparks, the sudden need to become scarce top priority, and he approached her quickly, grasped her shoulder, and tried to shake her awake.

Sparks was ripped from her sleep again and she groaned in retaliation, but after Eagle’s shaking her heavy eyelids opened to find him standing over her. His words were somewhat beyond the edges of her hearing, but as she gained lucidity she realized he was trying to whisper. “Sparks, get up girl! Come on!”

“Whu- What?” She said as she turned over, reflexively pulling away from him as she tried to bundle herself up again. Eagle didn’t relent, however.

“Sparks, you need to wake up; now!”

He all but shouted in whispers as he forcibly turned her over while smacking her ribs. She grunted lowly in pain, as her rest deprived body rebelled. “Eagle, what’s the matter?”

“We’ve got trouble incoming and we need to get scarce!” He said, looking over his shoulder as his eyes darted around the landscape. “Raiders, I think; looks like a war party going east.”

“Raiders...?” She said with a sudden fear, yawning as she forcibly stood up on her fours and began packing away her blanket, albeit lethargically. “What time is it anyways...?”

“Still night, not even dawn yet; we need to get out of here before there’s light for them to see us. Come on, hurry up!”

Eagle gathered up a few little things that they had littered around the campsite, leaving a few nonessentials in the spirit of haste. He practically leapt to Sparks’ side, forcibly stuffing her own belongings into her saddlebags and he pulled her along with him. She groaned from the sudden exertion her sleep deprived and sore body was subjected to, and she shook her head violently. “Come on Eagle, give me a moment to wake up here...!”

“No time girl, no time...!” He shouted in whispers, and as they trailed off into the darkness the hazed sight of Sparks caused her to stumble several times, and each time she half-shouted in startles. Eagle, getting furious at her lagging behind and the unseen proximity of raiders so close, all but started pushing her along. “Come on Sparks, we have to get clear of here before they see us!”

“I know Eagle!” She half shouted, and she picked up the pace against her leaden limbs’ rebellion. She began panting madly before long as she tried her best to follow Eagle closely, but the dark wasn’t helping matters at all. She could barely see Eagle’s silhouette before her, let alone the ground or rocks barring the paths around her that were equally hidden.

Eagle had to restrain himself in chastising her as they dashed through the night shrouded landscape. Turns and dives through the rocky terrain kept his attention, and to ensure that Sparks was close in tow behind him as he fought to keep them hidden. All he could do was hope no creature heard they’re passing, and for what felt like an eternity fifteen minutes had passed as they cut across the rocky landscape.

Eventually Eagle judged they were clear of the worst and signaled for Sparks to stop. She collapsed onto her belly, panting furiously as she fought to catch her breath. Eagle took out a canteen, unscrewed the top and gave it to her, with which she sorely fought her breath and body to take a drink of the water. She spoke afterwards, winded and aggravated. “Why... why is it that... raiders always cause us... us grief?”

“That’s their speciality.” Eagle said as he scanned the horizon; the very edges of dawn creeping into the clouds above. “We should have camped even further out than that. Odd for raiders to take that much of a detour to go after one ranch though.”

“You think... maybe they saw us last night, or something...?”

“No.” He said, shaking his head with his thoughts churning. “Not at all. Would have had a firefight last night if that were the case.”

“So... I guess something... something else...?”

“Only explanation for it.”

Eagle thought about what else a raider band would be doing this far out of commonly tred roads. Caravans didn’t come out this way, and he knew that the raider band they saw last night would have set out straight for the Shear’s farm; their night banter proved as much with hunger in their ranks. The only other explanation he could fathom would be one he hoped that they could avoid at all costs, and he adjusted his harness with determination in his eyes to press on towards the Unicorn Range mountains; barely a rise on the horizon.

“Come on Sparks, whatever those raiders are doing we need to be clear of the region as soon as possible; think you can walk?”

“Maybe... maybe in ten minutes, or whatever... just give me a moment...”

“You’ve got five, and we’ll hit the road.”

Sparks was too busy fighting her fatigued body to argue, or to think of what the raiders were doing out and about at this hour. The clock on her PipBuck barely read five o’clock, and she mused that it was no hour for her to be ripped from her sleep so suddenly, but as her short break ended she shook her head and sorely got onto her fours. She hoped that sometime that day they’d be able to stop and rest a spell, in some more shielded shelter than they had earlier in the morning to be specific, but she groaned internally that it probably wouldn’t be the case.

She didn’t have the strength to argue or ask for favors of rest though, and, in the end, all she had strength for was to follow Eagle as he pressed on to the West. In the back of her mind though, memories of the early morning pierced her hazy senses. The sprite-bot that called itself ‘Watcher’, or the creature behind it rather. She gave little contemplation toward it, however, and merely marched forward with Eagle’s pace; her leaden body rebelling with every step.

*** *** ***

After an hour or so of trudging through The Wastes, Red Eagle and Sparks finally find some secluded spot in the landscape; it was little more than a small relay station, with radio towers jutting up into the sky. A few of them were bent and rent down to little more than rusted beams, but the few relatively intact ones that raised high into the air, perhaps thirty yards or so, bore small satellite dishes and antennae that swayed in the breeze, creaking. A few platforms were nestled in them high above, like bird nests, and Eagle marked them as vantage points if needed.

The desolate plains around them yawned with sheer emptiness, winds from beyond bringing sandy dust and chills that cut through their bardings, and the mountains to the West had grown in view to become far more daunting than Sparks anticipated. Their distant, yet towering heights seemed to almost scrape at the sickly clouds above. Eagle, however, was far more interested in the hole the towers accompanied. It delved some ways into the ground, through the concrete foundation at the edge of the outpost forming a strange kind of natural cellar, and deep within the tunnel was veiled in shadow.

He spoke lowly, suspicion in his voice. “I don’t like the look of this...”

Sparks’ attention was pulled from their surroundings and she eyed Eagle with curiosity as to what he meant. She spoke to him, cautiously. “What do you mean, what’s down there?”

“Don’t know; that’s the problem.” He spoke darkly. “Could be no more than an empty hole, but this far out there’s no telling.” He pulled his revolver, cocked the hammer back, and turned to Sparks with a head gesture. “Pull yours, be ready for anything.”

“Alright, then...”

She pulled her pistol and, with a hesitant magical flick of a switch, its magical warble effect sounded dully. She hoisted it close to her head as Eagle turned around and began to prowl inside the cave’s entrance. His eyes slowly took in the cave’s interior, scanning for traps or signs of habitation, yet he found little more than century old garbage and rubble that fell from above, coupled with several small side passages that split off the main path. At least that’s how it went for a few minutes until his eyes caught the shape of what looked like skid marks in the packed dirt and sand. The most peculiar details were the claw marks or paw prints beside them.

“Damn... I hope those are as old as they look.”

“What’d you find?” She said, frowning with suspense in her voice as her eyes still adjusted to the darkness.

Eagle merely shook his head and spoke briefly. “Tracks, by the looks of them. Stay sharp, might be animals in here.”

“What kind of animals?”

“Hopefully not the ‘eats travelers’ kind. Keep your guard up.”

The tracks were old, or at least he thought they were. Time could have eroded them into near obscurity, but with the elements, like rains and so forth, they could have muddled them to such. Regardless, he only saw the one set, which at first set him at some ease. Deeper into the cave, however, the tunnel’s history began to take shape.

This was an old burrow, dug out by what now seemed like several different sets of tracks, each one in different conditions that could range in time. He counted maybe four or five different sizes of the creatures that lived there, and he hoped that he wasn’t diving off into another nest of Wasteland mutants.

He spoke up, caution driving him to barely whisper in the slightly echoing burrow. “Listen Sparks, we need to press on. It’s not a good idea to camp here, even for an hour to rest.”

“Oh come on Eagle,” she said, annoyed “a short stop shouldn’t be too much trouble is it? We’ve been walking for hours and this looks like the best we’ve got for shelter out here in the open...!”

“Unless you want to camp in a hole that might have mutants in it, we’re leaving.” His grimace was hidden by the shadows, but his reprimanding tones were not. Sparks scoffed openly into the silence, and groaned almost silently, her soreness robbing her of her usual curiosity. Eagle grabbed her shoulder, firmly, and shook it with a shushing voice. “Sparks, seriously, we can’t stay here. I have no clue what’s in here, and neither do-”

A sudden shuffling was heard in the depths of the cave’s descent, and it caused Eagle to cut himself short as he all but forced her to turn back the way they came. She heard it too, and the intrusion made her keep her questions to herself as fear grew of what might lay in the darkness. As they approached the exit, however, a subtle cacophony of animalistic noises emanated from deeper within.

Eagle cursed sourly under his breath, hoping that they could slip out leaving whatever apparently dwelt here unawares, but fortune had it that they couldn’t be so lucky. Out of the corner of his eye he saw what looked like a shimmer of fur in the shadows, and with it was what sounded like the shifting of leather on stone. On top of it all though was an eye that beamed from within, a subtle gleam of an oddly malformed iris and pupil that spied them despite the dark. He turned around, hastening their exit as he began to shove Sparks forward, to which she felt a sudden urge to agree as the sounds were growing amidst the relative silence.

“We need to get out of here,” he said, almost frantically in whispers “we can’t chance fighting them on their home ground...!”

“What is ‘them’?”

Sparks’ speech was startled as fear grew in her voice as she found the strength to worry again, fear of unseen dangers of something she assumed was little more than a hole in the ground. Eagle merely kept up the retreat as he tried to cover their exit, fearful of any unseen animalistic defense mechanisms; he was reminded of the taint fiends in the tunnels. “No idea; whatever they are we stand a better chance topside...!”

As they began hurrying for the exit, a shrill shriek of sorts emanated from within as Eagle guessed whatever creatures still called the burrow home had noticed them, and fortunes of The Wastelands had it that usually the entire nest of creatures would notice en masse and descend on them like a hive. Their canter became a gallop for the exit as Eagle fished out a single mine from his pack and left it on their trail armed, and he pressed his wingtips to his ears. “Cover your ears Sparks!”

She tried to do so, but the most she could manage was merely folding her ears back as hard as she could. Her taxed panting brought the most noise to their attempted escape, with both their rapidly rasping boots on the packed earth filling their senses, but it wasn’t long until their hearing was robbed by the loud and ominous explosion of the mine filling the tunnel’s corridors. A violent flinch from the noise followed and tinnitus rang in her ears as her body reflexively ducked for cover, but Eagle pushed her onwards. Neither had time to speak as the exit came into view, and light from the beyond flooded the cave’s mouth.

Eagle and Sparks made a rush for the exit, and after they breached into the open desert Eagle turned to face the cave’s entrance, brandishing his revolver and kicking his battle saddle into gear. His mind was racing to find the most ideal and effective means of dealing whatever was in that cave, but the odds were to simply run would leave them exposed out in the open expanses of The Wasteland. He shouted loudly, with a commander’s authority. “Use that hole as a choke point, if we’re overwhelmed we’ll climb the radio towers for protection! Understand!?”

Sparks had come to a screeching halt, her sore hooves burning with pain from the sudden halt and twirl about face as she almost mechanically followed his orders. The desire to rebel was lost from her, and she all but collapsed as she knelt down on a knee for rest. She shouted back to him with breath robbed tones. “Alright!”

Soon after the menaces of the cave made themselves seen, but the startling appearances of them gave Sparks pause while Eagle immediately sent bullets into their bodies with several falling from the wounds. The bullet reports over stimulated her ears, her eyes flinching on every crack and roll, but she swore that they looked like... giant rats, but farlarger, almost as big as a foal, with bloated with cancerous growths on the patchwork furred leathery skin that was pulled taut on their rotund bodies. Their weight seemed to force them to crawl on their bellies as their four stubby legs carried them forward, and their charge towards them as they gnashed their broadly jutting teeth lent their appearances menace.

She shook her head to clear her mind as one neared her, and she let loose a blast from her pistol without even remembering her S.A.T.S. spell, and it turned out to not be necessary as the creature dissolved into a fine glowing red ash cloud that scattered in the breeze. Another two neared her, and three shots were sent at them as the scent of ozone filled her nostrils with another disintegrating and the other falling with burning scorch marks deep in its flesh.

Eagle’s revolver eventually roared all six of its shots, and the comparative dragon’s roar of his rifle tore gaping holes in the giant rats that emerged. They felled more than a half dozen of them in short order, yet it seemed like for every one they killed the giant rats simply multiplied as they threatened to swarm them with numbers alone. The sight of the growing horde of giant rats sent her mind into a wild frenzy as the thought of being eaten alive frightened her beyond words, and she jumped to her hooves and instinctually ran towards a tower to climb up for protection. Her hooves scrambled to find the strength to make the climb, and Eagle gave a mighty wing beat to take the battle to the air as he fired shot after shot into the pack that amassed near her.

He had no time to count them, but it seemed like dozens poured from the cave, and his fears grew that he was simply wasting his ammunition on them as he reloaded his revolver hastily. There seemed no end to them, and his darting eyes caught Sparks’ fruitless attempts to climb. She struggled severely to find a hoofhold, but the rusted bars of the tower she tried to climb continued to snap from age under her weight. Eventually, two of the giant rats neared her, despite his actions, and tore at her with their teeth, but her barding absorbed most of the impacts.

She panicked, shrieking shrilly as her magical grasp on her pistol was forgotten, and threw her hooves about her, bucking with her hind legs wildly as several of her aggressors were struck hard. She didn’t even notice the feeling of being bitten anymore, the fear having sent her primal instincts aflame, and she merely pummeled every rat that came close to her.

“Eagle!! Help!!” She shrieked, and his attention was ripped away from the growing horde and onto Sparks as she lashed out violently with little skill or effectiveness. Several of her strikes found purchase, but most of them went wide as they merely grazed or struck the rats ineffectively, but she shrieked again as the rats bit at her, and one found purchase on one of her hind legs as Eagle swooped in with his knife reflexively to cut apart the rats, his eyes narrowed with focus.

He was too late, however, as one of the rats bit down hard on one of Sparks’ saddlebags, the contents spewing across the ground around her as she continued to buck around her wildly. He closed the distance and, with his knife and pistol, began to cut down the giant rats that swarmed her. He cut through them like butter with rapid slashes and point blank shots, as well as kicks and wing strikes as he danced around in battle on his hind legs, yet half the fight was getting Sparks to calm down and focus so she wouldn’t strike him by accident.

“Sparks! Get a hold of yourself!!” His shout was all but ignored by her as she continued to lash out wildly at any rat that neared her, but the moment Eagle cleared out the closest of the approaching horde, leaking corpses and the panicked wounded now littering the concrete foundation of the relay station, he holstered his weapons and forcibly grabbed her and gave a mighty wing beat to get them off the ground. Her fight or flight instincts still flaring she struggled as Eagle kept a tight grip on her as her eyes shot wide from the sudden sensation of flight.

She cursed loudly as her eyes caught the ascent, down below there were now perhaps dozens of those terrors, and the ground itself rapidly fell away from them. The fear of the giant rats clashed with her newfound fear of falling, and her hooves forcibly latched to Eagle’s body. “Oh crap! What the hell!?”

“Just... hold on tight girl!” He shouted, strain in his voice as his wings fought hard to carry the both of them. They lifted up to one of the intact radio tower’s platforms above, and he set down as softly as possible producing a groaning of rusted metal from the sudden weight. It held though, surprisingly, and they settled down as the distant winds blew lazily across them. From the relative safety of the lofty platform, Sparks managed to calm herself down and she collapsed on her side, taking huge breaths of air from the strain.

She groaned in adrenaline dulled pain as she forced her head up to see her hind leg, teeth marks with small rivulets of blood staining her newly ripped Stable jumpsuit; the blood staining the ‘clean’ suit aggravated her, but other concerns worried her more. “Great Goddesses, what... what are those things!? I... I hope they don’t have rabies or something...!”

“Those are mutants, or at least one kind of them. You’re lucky that wound isn’t worse.” Eagle said, focusing on the carnage below. From on high he saw the rats begin to cannibalize the fallen, their teeth seemed to cut through their kin with ease, and the few still alive from their injuries weren’t excluded from the feast as they fought each other for bites. “They could have taken the leg entirely. You need to clean that and wrap it, now while we’ve got time.”

Sparks wanted to keep lying there, but her medical training kicked in as she nodded and rose from the platform weakly. Her horn glowed with her cyan aura and she mechanically took her medical bag from the torn open saddlebag, unzipped it, taking from it some of what remained of her disinfectant and bandages. She sneered a little at the bag as she saw bite marks on the leather along with some mud, but she wiped the mud off with an agitated sigh, untied her boot, and rolled up the leg of her suit. Painful jolts from the wound caused her to wince a little as she did so.

As she treated her leg, Eagle kept looking about them for some escape plan he could reliably trust. The platform itself seemed sound, and the telltale signs of habitation before them were clear from the diamond plating that was welded on top of the rusted out sheets below it. It seemed like a haphazardly made Post-War lookout of sorts, and might have been so, but he shook the thought as he returned his gaze below. The horde of giant rats seemed to lessen now, with his count numbering them with at least fifteen or twenty strong, and they eventually began to dive back into the cave after they realized there was no more for them to eat.

Their prey gone, and their hunger somewhat sated without a means of ascending the tower themselves they dispersed back into the ground with stragglers nosing around. Eagle grumbled, knowing to leave now while they were aware of their presence was folly, and he merely turned around and set himself to wait before their departure.

He didn’t like it, but the odds were those mutants would hound them for miles if they caught wind of them again, and the worry was mirrored in his tones. “You’re getting your break after all. We’re going to hole up here for a few hours and rest. Once they forget about us we’ll haul off, alright?”

“Got it...” She said as she tightened the bandage down and tied it off. The pain was beginning to take on a full bodied flame as she gave little muted yelps of pain, wincing as her adrenaline wore off leaving her with lingering pains she thankfully forgot about for a spell. She shook her head, worry in her eyes as she stared at the bandage though, rolling her suit’s leg down and tying the boot back up. “I’m beginning to wish I had packed antibiotics now...”

“You mean you don’t have any?” Eagle said with serious tones as he found a newfound factor to worry about. “You aren’t joking?”

She looked to him, worry at his tones apparent in her sheepish voice. “Uh... no?”

“Fucking hell...” He said, anger growing as he cursed under his breath. He shook his head and sighed, turning to Sparks as he approached her. “Hope that bite doesn’t give you anything; you can’t be walking for a few weeks with a fever, or whatever can come from infections.”

“I know that Eagle,” she said defensively, but her expression betrayed the fear of disease “I know... I know I should have packed it, but it slipped my mind...!”

“Don’t let it happen again, sickness is far worse to fight than most things; you should know that from the Enclave’s ‘training’, for all the good it did.” His expression wasn’t hidden beneath his hat’s brim at all to her, and the frustration was apparent as he tilted his head to look at her side; her saddlebag blown open. “Chief among them is damaged equipment. Let me see your pack.”

Sparks’ expression was soured by the thought of being sick, she hadn’t been sick much at all her life, no more than the common cold that was cured in a snap by Stable-Tec’s medicines and machines, but she managed to sit up and turn her torn open pack to Eagle as she desperately went down a mental list of different sicknesses that might plague the medically challenged Wasteland. He knelt down and examined the damage, and alas the pack itself needed some serious repairs to make useful again; enough that it may just be easier to replace. That limited her to one pack, he begrudgingly thought, but upon further inspection his eyes locked onto a sight that set a fire in him.

One of the few remaining cans in her bag that they had received only yesterday was torn open, and the loss of food wasn’t the problem as he seethed. It was the fact the can, now ripped open to reveal its contents, was filled to the brim with little more than mud, and that mushy soil had leaked from her torn open pack.

Anger in his eyes he pulled an intact can from the pack, much to Sparks’ confusion as he took his knife and cut open the top of the tin can. “What’s wrong Eagle? Something happen to the food?”

“More than either of us knew.” He ripped the can’s top off to look inside, and turning it over nothing but more mud poured out in globs. His face hardened as he looked eastwards, murder in his voice. “Fucking donkeys robbed us blind.”

She watched at the chunks of mud splattered on the platform’s floor, and her eyes lit up with confusion as her mind went into a tizzy from the lie. She gasped silently, and couldn’t take her eyes off the mud as she moved it around in her magic. “But... but what about the food they promised?”

“A lie; probably to fool us if we were raiders going after their food. That group we saw last night in the ruins was talking about attacking them. Maybe the Shears might have thought we were a front for them -to see if they were worth raiding or not.”

“But...” she said, disbelief in her words “but if that were the case why not... why not just shoot us? Maybe they didn’t have enough food for themselves?”

Eagle scowled, and shook his head; her defending them agitating. “There’s no telling why they did it. Either way it doesn’t matter, only that it fucks with us here and now.”

He sighed, and his thoughts churned as to how they were supposed to press on with their journey now. Little to nothing came to him, as the only town he knew of nearby with food was the Shears, and he wouldn’t give them a second chance at betrayal -assuming they still stood from the raider attack. The rats below might prove decent stock for food to bolster the brahmin mean jerky they had gotten -to which he now eyed with peculiarity as to whether those were indeed brahmin meat at all- but Sparks’ diet would most likely disagree with it substantially. Nevermind the fact they had no methods available to preserve it for the long haul to the West, or whatever radiation they might have soaked up.

All of it meant heading back east, and he grumbled under his breath that they had no choice now. “Alright Sparks, we’re heading back east.”

“To the Shears?” She said cautiously, afraid that Eagle might have it in himself to kill them for their offense, but he shook his head.

“No,” he said, lowly with worry in his voice “we’re going to see if Green can help us after all. We’re heading for Good Neighbor.”

*** *** ***

A day and a half later, after managing to escape the giant rats and the unforgivably cold winter air hounding them, with little more than Eagle’s leftover vittles from the rations as he tossed the jerkys away for fear of what meat it actually was, Red Eagle and Sparks finally make their way through The Wasteland to find the outskirts of Good Neighbor. Little more than a rise in the distance, Sparks wondered what the ensemble of blasted buildings had in store for them as she coughed dryly. Eagle had told her along the way what to expect, yet it didn’t set her at ease in the slightest when they had passed the Shear’s family ranch; now little more than a half burnt ruin as some large clash had all but razed it to the ground.

The corpses she expected to find were nowhere to be seen, and Eagle had suggested that the raiders might have taken them for food, and the thought churned her stomach fierclythat anypony would stoop to that. An amount of pity was in her heart for them if such a case was true, and the pained expression that she wore was easily read by Eagle with annoyance to her pitying backstabbers.

As they pressed on, however, the idea of a small city full of gangsters, whom were described to her as being little better than raiders -brutal and unscrupulous groups of ponies who constantly wanted to start a war in the streets over resources- bothered her immensely, to which she was surprised that such a town could even survive for long with such a toxic environment. Eagle had chuckled darkly in response with agreement. She still didn’t believe it, somewhat, but all the times that he had been right so far of bad places or creatures left little hope for alternatives.

More importantly Eagle told her of why he wanted to avoid the place, and Sparkswondered if there was anyplace that Eagle had left untouched with violence. The warning from Watcher setting in, she subtly sighed as he told her of a stallion called Poker Chip and his butchering. He left out the why, however, supplementing an excuse he hoped would let him change the subject. She recognized the omission, but didn’t press the issue. She felt he wouldn’t have killed Chip over ‘a simple insult’; at least, she hoped so. Her own light coughing that had developed the night before had her worrying about other, more pressing concerns, however.

It was there, on the ‘Good Neighbor Line’ that Eagle stopped, and scanned the horizon for yet another time in his life. His voice was hollow, anticipation in his breaths as he spoke to her. “Remember what I said girl, we get into a fight you dive for cover, any cover. And remember to use that spell on your PipBuck no matter how swamped you get.”

She groaned at his constant orders, and huffed a sigh as she shifted her now lighter, though lopsided, weight of her pack again. It was chafing uncomfortably -as usual she had the displeasure of thinking. “Look, I know Eagle... ahem... You don’t have to keep telling me nonstop alright?”

“You didn’t bother with those mutants. Yes you took a few down without it but that panic attack compromised your focus. We get into another firefight, I can’t promise to be able to save your ass every time; understand?”

“Yes, Eagle; I get it... ahem.” She coughed again, and Eagle turned his grimace back to the city ahead.

He hoped that she wasn’t getting sick, as he had no way of knowing if Good Neighbor would even have such a luxury like medicines despite its chem business. She had already taken a healing potion to fight the effects of it, but they both knew that they weren’t a cure-all for sickness and disease. It would do little more than heal the wound itself, barely a scratch really, and maybe give her some vigor in her step, but beyond that what really needed healing was beyond its power. He had already chastised her for not thinking ahead with proper medicines, like antibiotics or some other chems that might have assuaged sicknesses, but with little point beyond drilling into her head for foresight’s sake he had dropped it.

He shook his head subtly, and popped a few of his bones before he started walking again. “Come on, Sparks... lets hope this place is somewhat calm and collected after all this time.”

She nodded, but she hung her head, feeling slightly under the weather as they continued. “You know,” she said, amused “that the more you do that the worse it gets on your cartilage, right?”

He merely grumbled a little, yet didn’t speak as he was in no mood for her jabs. Together, however, they began to cross the few miles left to go.

*** *** ***

As they trekked across the open desert, Eagle had hoped beyond hope that any snipers that would have spied them would have held their fire. By the time they had reached the ruins of the suburbs around the city proper, no shots had been fired, and a tenseness was easily felt in the both of them. The city seemed... scared almost; held in suspense as Eagle kept looking down the alleyways with little more than small Wasteland varmints skittering about them.

Not another soul, be it pony or otherwise, was seen by either of them, and it fueled Eagle’s paranoia that something had indeed happened in the last few months after his departure. “I don’t like the look of this...”

“The last time you said that we were attacked by those giant rat things, please don’t jinx us...” Sparks said with worry of her own. The last time she had been around such tall buildings wasn’t exactly a picnic either, and she kept staring at the sheer heights of the jagged and rent, but somewhat intact skyscrapers about them.

Eagle scoffed near silently, nodding curtly. “Tell me something I don’t know. Usually you might see a random pony jumping for cover, squatters and the like, but we aren’t seeing anything around here.”

“Besides roaches, you mean...” She said, disgust in her voice as one of those large and grotesque insects skittered from one building to another nearby.

Eagle kept staring at the buildings around them, and agreed. “Yeah, besides harmless bugs.” The annoyance in his voice was plain, but he kept speaking. “Not seeing any creature around when there should be isn’t a good sign.”

“Well... where do you think Green would be at?” Sparks said, deciding to change the subject to something he would call ‘useful’, but her concerned tones betrayed her intent. “I really hope she made it here in one piece.”

“Of that I have no doubt, all I hope is that she isn’t holed up with the Gunponies. She won’t be of much use to us in there.” As he kept scanning their surroundings he wondered that exact question himself, and decided to ponder it aloud for Sparks’ benefit. “If we’re lucky, then we may find her with one of the larger gangs here; made a name for herself and secured a position with them. She’s a Hoofington pony, if any mare can get these gangs to respect her, it’s her.”

“I still don’t like that idea...” She said, still worried about the gangs that Eagle said permeated the city like vermin. “But, well... I hope so too. The way you said it, nopony can really make it here alone.”

“Exactly. I just hope she’s gotten in with a gang big enough to help us. All we need’s food and some medicine for you. Might be one around to fulfill that need.”

Eagle hated that they were riding on hopes and dreams of some small easy victory, and that hate was apparent in his voice as he grumbled and cursed under his breath. But nevertheless, circumstance left little choice; no choice really, so they pressed on as they hoped to find the one mare in an entire city of degenerates that could repay her debt to them. He still had reservations about that very question, whether she’d honor that debt or not, but he scoffed as he once again gave a resounding ‘fuck it’ in his mind.

“One way to find out though...” He muttered, and they delved deeper into Good Neighbor’s streets.

*** *** ***

Another fifteen minutes or so had passed before the light of the sun above the clouds began to recede, and with the onset of dusk Eagle cursed under his breath again as the city seemed completely abandoned. Not a single other soul was seen or heard for the entire trek through the city, and before long he began to think it was little more than a graveyard now.

Agitated he shook his head and spoke darkly in a low voice. “Where the fuck is everypony in this place, we should have seen some by now.”

Sparks had to agree with his wording, as her expectations were dashed by the seemingly abandoned husk of a town. She didn’t know what was worse on her mind: expecting an ambush from raiders or thinking the town was completely empty of life entirely, or, perhaps the most unnerving of all, both of them in total silence save for the rasping of their bardings and boots. No music from the radio or conversations at all during their time in the blasted city began to tear at her sanity it felt, and the relative silence had her mind jumping at every sudden detail.

Yet she hadn’t long to ponder that as her fears were suddenly flung to option one as weapons were racked about them in unison. A coarse voice, a mare’s they hadn’t heard before, called out grimly with authority after Red Eagle and Sparks. “What’s yet business ‘ere strangers? Speak up ‘fore I put a bullet ‘tween yer eyes, an’ keep yer irons strapped to yer sides!”

They both halted in their tracks at the sudden intrusion, and Eagle was the first to speak as his eyes slowly searched for the voice’s owner and the positions of the rifleponies around them. “No business at all, ma’am, just looking for somepony who came here maybe a week ago! A mare called ‘Green’!”

“Really?” The mare said aloud, disbelief in her voice. “An’ why would I believe thatlittl’ lie? If you ‘ad half a brain in yer ‘ead you’d know that Green’s one of us now! Yer problytryin’ tah kill ‘er or sometin’!”

“Not at all!” Eagle said loudly, yet with a disarming tone as he shook his head. The recognition of the name, and the details of their search, gave him some hope though. “Did Green ever tell you of a griffon called ‘Red Eagle’ before? That’s me, and I’m here to see if she can help us out!”

“Shit guys, you ‘ere that!? We got ourselves Eagle in a trap!” The mare’s voice resounded with disbelief, and surprise he recognized. “Way I hear it Eagle wouldn’t get into a trap like this ‘un!”

Sparks’ body began to cramp somewhat from the rigidness the rifles she knew were trained on her forced her to keep, but her fears kept her from doing much of anything besides maintain that stance. Eagle turned around, slowly, and faced her with surety in his expression, and he spoke out loudly to the direction of the mare that had them trapped. “First time for everything, ma’am! Now get Green out here so we can talk!”

Just as suddenly as the rifles were trained on them did Green, the mare true to her name, garbed in some ganger style armored barding that seemed more effective than its appearance let on with broad, polished metals plates hammered to shape with her chest and flanks, with that very same double barrel shotgun strapped to her side, emerged from the cover of a pillar in an alleyway that flanked the road. She walked out into the street, eyeing both ways for others that might be present, but found none, and she called out loudly like an officer.

“Alright guys, they’re clean!” She walked up to Eagle with a scowl and, with an equally unexpected gesture, smacked Eagle’s beak with a dull thud from her hoof. He groaned subtly from the pain of the impact, but kept his weapons sheathed despite the anger it cause. Her serious expression broke, however, and grinned widely. “You’re gettin’ rusty Eagle... Seriously, caught in a trap like some two-bit skin flake off the street?”

Green’s appearance was followed by three other ponies, two mares and a stallion, dressed head to hooves with similar bardings to hers. Their forms betrayed their own ganger lifestyle as they probably hadn’t seen a proper bath in years, but the discipline they showed with their weapons told Eagle they weren’t so undisciplined as perhaps ninety percent of the city’s squatters.

He chuckled lowly, and shook his head from the blow and lied wryly. “Best way to find you, Green. We’ve seen nopony for miles around town, so a stick up from your gang was the only option.”

“Eh, true enough I suppose.” She said, chuckling a little. “But seriously, Eagle, you’re the one who caused this mess in the first place. Didn’t exactly leave yourself a welcome mat,or me when I dropped your name.”

“Never said I left this place in good terms; or to use my name.”

“No... you didn’t, did yah?” She grinned wider as she turned around to get off the street, but she looked back and waved to them to follow. “Come on, I’ll fill yah in on the goings on. Somewhere safer though; the open streets aren’t safe enough to stand around in.”

“Don’t have to tell me...” Eagle said, and he and Sparks followed Green into the growing darkness of the alleyway’s cover. Sparks’ let out a sigh of relief, and Green chuckled a touch as they trailed behind her deeper into the city’s belly.

Green spoke amusedly to Sparks as she started limping a little in her gait, the relieved cramp from earlier giving her trouble. “So, Stable girl, still jumping at yah own shadow?”

“Not much anymore,” she managed to say, strain in her voice from an errant pain in her hind leg “but I’m still getting used to all this...”

“That’s good, yah ain’t much use to anypony dead.” She turned her head around to glance at Eagle, to which he kept a straight face. She chuckled a little, and amended her statement with a chuckle. “Or any griffon for that matter.”

Eagle kept his beak shut, but agreed with her statement. He knew it was a jab, but he hoped that it may spur Sparks to taking better care in the future. Her limp gave him cause for concern though, but before he could grow any compassion for it he clinically asked after it. “How’s the leg, Sparks?”

“Eh...” she said, somewhat weakly but resolved to bear it “I’ll manage.”

Green shook her head and spoke flatly, with little show of compassion behind her words. “So what got your leg, girl? Radigator?”

Before she could ask after what a ‘radigator’ was, Eagle cut in with an equally blunt response to her question. “No, looked like some kinds of mole rats or something. Huge bastards camping out west, maybe a day and a half of walking.”

Green looked back with narrowed eyes “What, can’t the girl speak for herself?”

“Only if you want to tell her what a radigator is.” He said, scowling. “Either way, a radigator would have taken the leg. They don’t come this far north anyways; fortunately.”

“True enough, good to know there’s a spot West where there’s animals though, how many?”

“A dozen plus? I couldn’t count them while we were swamped by them.”

“That’s a lot of meat,” Green said, nodding “might want to send a few of the bucks out hunting. Food’s a little scarce ever since Good Neighbor locked their doors and shuttered their windows.”

Eagle had to suppress a groan from the news, but as they turned a corner into some makeshift campsite set within a large courtyard they found it filled with maybe twenty ponies with similar garbs to Green’s, yet a little more than half of them were distinctively different with strange primitive markings apart from the rest like tattoos or feathered pieces of armor. Most of them were held at attention with her arrival, yet they all gave lingering stares at him and Sparks, and the strangeness in the eyes of the bizarre ponies told Eagle they weren’t your run-of-the-mill Wastelanders, but tribals.

Eagle decided to wait on asking after that peculiar detail, instead he asked after the city itself as he locked eyes with a few of the tribals in passing, like some primal show of respect, yet a promise of violence between alphas of the species. “So, Good Neighbor’s locked up is it?”

“Tighter than a Tenpony Virgin as they say, but we can still get the occasional sniper shot from one of their windows. Whatever you actually did in there set off a righteous ruckus in there, that’s for sure.”

“Mhm.” Eagle said before letting Green give the ponies around them the all clear, and led them to a sort of ramshackle, spot welded metal hut that had two of those tribal looking guards posted at either side of the door. They were larger than the rest, bulkier and bettered armored like some kind of ‘royal guard’, which made him all the more curious about Green’s exploits in the city.

The most peculiar detail was what Eagle had guessed to be the gang’s insignia; a large, painted on picture of what looked like an ebon green knife crossed with a white chess piece -a queen to be specific- emblazoned across its surface.

Sparks looked at the painting with lingering eyes, and shook her head as she tried to understand what it meant, and Green caught her pondering expression as she looked back. “Like it?”

“Like it?” Sparks said, somewhat having trouble understanding the meaning behind it. “I’m... not sure what to think; does it mean ‘killer at games or something?”

“Maybe, I’ve never really known to be honest. Cutie marks are fickle like that.”

Eagle nodded slightly, and tilted his head as he understood a great deal more about Green’s seeming luck. “Come to think of it I never did see yours. If that’s it, then I assume you’ve beaten some sense into this gang.”

“Sure did.” Green chortled, but shrugged dismissively. “Honestly though, it wasn’t too hard; bastards barely put up a fight when I challenged their leader. I learned they had a thing like that -rule by might or whatnot like some other tribals- and after the last ‘chief’ was dead in the dirt, I’ve had a rather dirty life of royalty.”

“I never thought of you as a... well...” Sparks said, suddenly feeling sheepish as she had to finish the thought her runaway mouth started. “A leader type, I guess...”

“Well that’s why I’m here. Never underestimate anypony, or creature, or you might get a shank in the ribs.” Green laughed a little as she entered the hut, beckoning them to follow as she continued. “But, well... neither did I, being honest. Neither did I.”

Footnote: Red Eagle level 22

Sparks level 4

Chapter 19: Many Contrasts

Chapter 19: Many Contrasts

“Alright guys, here’s the thing...”

Green spoke with a droning preparation for explaining the city’s current events as she sat down on a rather well maintained chaise, one that was decorated with strangely tribalistic styled talismans, and she eased into the somewhat soft and cushy seat with a sigh. She looked over at an intact coffee mug of sorts, the once bright colors robbed of their splendor yet the white ceramic beneath the worn insignia still gleamed as if it was freshly washed, andclopped her hooves together before raising the cup.

“Drinks please!”

One of the tribals bowed his head and left the room with haste after prattling off some strange sort of speech, a weird mash of ponish but different just enough to be distinct. After he returned with a wooden platter on his back another of them removed the mugs and set them down before Green, Sparks, and Eagle. She nodded her head in thanks, to which all but one of the tribals left the room giving them privacy.

Green took a sip of the drink, with a little reaction from what was presumably a vile taste, but she smacked her lips all the same like it was palatable. “Eh... they try but that damn still needs fixing. Don’t worry guys, this poison isn’t actually poison; just some weird tribe liquor.” She chuckled a little as she grinned, and emended her statement. “Bathtub gin more like it, but please, sit down and rest a spell.”

“I’d prefer to be dry for this visit,” Eagle said, but nodded his head “but thanks all the same.”

“No, please take a drink. This lot gets easily offended if yah don’t, even just a sip if yah can’t stomach it.”

Eagle grumbled as he rolled his eyes; tribal customs and superstitions among the weirdest and most aggravating to deal or cope with. He nodded his head and approached one of the chairs, gesturing to Sparks to take the seat next to him. They eased into them, both immensely pleased to be off their legs, and both of them reluctantly lifted the mugs up. Eagle gave it a sniff, and the strong alcoholic burn in his nostrils told him that Green was right.Sparks did the same with her magic, but with a recoiling disgust as it smelled nearly exactly of paint thinner, yet with an odd, pungently sweet aroma.

Sparks was the first to speak, and her speech was nasally from the intrusion. “Are you sure...?”

Green chuckled, and shrugged as she took another sip of the drink. “Yeah, unfortunately they get real antsy about it; might be a religious thing or something. You’re about to drink some real shit tonight girl; I hope you’ve got strong guts.”

Sparks looked back to the drink with apprehension in her eyes as Eagle took a reluctant sip, and the immediate vileness of the liquor caused him to shake his head slowly and groan a little. “The hell’s in this shit? Fuck...”

“I think it’s just a really soured mash of some herb they use; you know how Tribals are.” Green said to Eagle as she took another sip, now opting to set the drink down as her body shivered from the taste. “Some of them find holiness in the weirdest shit.” She eyed over to Sparks as her entire body seemed to force her not to take even a sip, and she shook her head as she spoke to her. “Come on Sparks; don’t make me look bad here.”

Sparks gulped with a look of dread on her face, and as she took a sip, her magic clenching her nose shut, her eyes shot wide as her mouth was robbed of all its moisture almost instantaneously. She gagged, managing to get the drink down before she coughed with full body revulsion. Spittle inched its way down her chin, and she wiped her mouth as her eyes watered from the overwhelming disgust of the liquor.

“Holy...” She said, choking on her words from the sheer alcoholic power it had. “Oh my Goddesses... that’s nasty...”

“I know right?” Green said, chortling. “I’d rather shoot some good ole fashion whiskeymyself, maybe some of that fancy Palominan tequila, but this ain’t too bad. Had worse I suppose.”

She sat upright in her chaise as she cleared her throat, remembering the reason she had dragged them there in the first place. “Anyways, as I was saying. The thing is guys that Good Neighbor is locked up; borderline permanently it looks like. Whatever yah did has them scared Eagle, scared thorough.” Eagle had to suppress a scoff as he heard it; he figured the city would blow the event out of proportion, but it was absurd to him to think they would lock down the gates. She continued though after a breath.

“When I showed up maybe six or seven days ago I wound up trudging around with another gang. They were happy with me just pulling my weight as I worked my way into their trusts, but the city itself cut that shit short. Good Neighbor opens up on anything that reaches within twenty yards of their entrances. The gang didn’t know that, wanting to go to the market to spend our collected caps on food and other shit like that -not important to the problem- and I barely got away with little more than damaged pride. Here I am after giving this gang’s chief a dirt nap.

“Yah see,” she said, sighing as she seemed to be calculating different things in her head “the big problem is yah ain’t gonna find anything here of value; not until the city opens up. I know yah aren’t here on a social call Eagle, it ain’t like yah for one, but if you’re after food and ammo the city’s got it all unless you feel like hunting other gangs for their vittles and peashooters.”

Eagle sighed, nodding as he spoke lowly. “Yeah, Green, I’m not here for pleasantries. I’m here to restock and move on. I was hoping you could help out with that.”

“I might be able to. And with my own little gang of miscreants I got a plan you could help with.” She said, and as Eagle rolled his eyes at being implicated into another pony’s problems she continued accusingly. “Look Eagle, I can’t help yah without digging into our own rations. What we’ve gotten had to be bought or stolen from some ignorant caravans who came out this way for trade, and even then we barely got enough to survive maybe a week.

“Speaking of those traders though, it didn’t work out too well for them since the other gangs killed them before they reached Good Neighbor’s doors, and I don’t even wanna know if Good Neighbor would have let them in. If yah want to resupply it’s coming out of Good Neighbor’s pockets.” She shook her head as she stretched a little in her seat; the liquor had started affecting her. “My plan is to blow that casket open wide, grab what we need to not starve to death, and with that I’ll be able to supply you two generously for your contributions; a raid if you will.”

Sparks’ eyes shot wide at her words; the prospect of being a raider set her heart aflame, and she turned to Eagle as his expression remained flat. Some small part of her wanted to regret having saved Green from the chem fiends now, but she snuffed out that feeling out quickly as she shook her head with disbelief. “You mean... you want us to raid them? When did raiding become a good thing to do?”

“I never said it was, but when you’re starving the idea gets far more appealing. Welcome to the real world Stable girl.” Green said, eyeing over to Eagle as he hung his head, just barely and shaking his head subtly.

He sat up straighter, glaring with a level expression, and spoke. “Or maybe I can just take what we need for the road, enough for us to get beyond the mountains, and I’ll call your debt square.” Eagle bargained bluntly, yet flatly without inflexion with little desire to get embroiled in Good Neighbor’s problems. He tilted his head, however and continued with the same tone. “Besides, assaulting the main gate of an entire town isn’t going to go smoothly no matter how you plan it. I’m not interested -we- are not interested in a street fight with a few dozen ponies over scraps.”

His expression was blank, void of much of anything besides an even, blank stare, yet Green nodded her head as his threat was recognized. “Sorry Eagle, I can’t. Help me win this fight on our terms and I’d give you a Goddess damned airship if I could; not scraps. Seriously, I need all the help I can get, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re an asset that will get an even bargain.” She smiled wryly, and shrugged as she lifted her cup of alcohol again. “Consider it a job, I suppose.”

Eagle grumbled under his breath as he racked his head over their options, but as a minute went by of silence he looked at Green dead in the eye and spoke dangerously. “As long as the plan isn’t a crock of shit, we haven’t got much of a choice. The payment better be level though, and generous if you want to be square.”

“But we’re still talking about raiding someponies here...!” Sparks retorted, now truly amazed that Eagle even considered it. “Are you seriously thinking about going through with that!?”

“If you haven’t noticed girl, we’re about half a week from starving and no amount of foraging or hunting is going to hold us to the coast. At least, not in health it will. If you want to chew on irradiated grass and mutant fruit out in the wild, be my guest, but you won’t survive past the Unicorn Mountains before you die of starvation or radiation poisoning.” The accusing tones in his voice were plainly spoken, and his narrowed eyes locked with Sparks’. “Otherwise, you’ll follow my lead and I’ll get us out of this alive; remember?”

Sparks huffed a scoff, and shook her head as she realized he was indeed going with Green’s suggestion. She hung her head in silence, and Eagle took it as a sign of acceptance; albeit with severe reluctance. He didn’t like the prospect either, but, as he repeated to himself, what other choices were there?

None, quite simply: the open deserts they’d cross through would barely support animals, and the sheer distance was too much of a gamble to rely on landscape living. The only thing he could hope for was this deal, this ‘job’, would pay out for them.

He locked eyes with Green, his narrowed eyes measuring his trust of her, or, more importantly, the sudden reveal of character as both her cutie mark and short story of her short time in Good Neighbor. She was apparently talented with this sort of thing, control and plans, and he stretched out in his armor as he prepared for the worst possibly to come. “As I said, so long the plan is solid, I’ll consider it.”

“Excellent,” Green said, a small smirk growing on her pale green cheeks “for that phase, we’ll need to go into the ‘war room’; as best as these bucks got anyways. A map and a good plan oughta make short work of this. Hopefully we’ll be eatin’ tomorrow night.”

Eagle laughed mutely once, and shook his head slowly as he picked up the rancid drink before him, raising it in a mock toast. “If I’m judging right, more than that.”

His smile was somewhat disarming as Green returned the toast with a nod, and she grinned wryly as she took a sip. “If the Goddesses are kind, food’s all that will be missing.”

As they took shots from the atrociously flavored drinks they both had mirrored reactions of disgust edging into a subtle pleasure that only heavy liquor drinkers could share, but Sparks sat there in conflicting ruminations as she found herself in a terrifying position. Self defense was bad enough for her to endure, but wholesale raiding for resources was something that Eagle himself had spoken ill of, and she had seen firsthoof the effects of it less than a few days ago.

She feared that, after the fight, she would have helped orchestrate a far more personally involved atrocity than ever she had enabled before. Only now it was done in the necessity of something as seemingly silly as food; not patriotic duty or contributions to her Stable’s usefulness. Something that for all her life was plentiful and taken for granted.

She rubbed her stomach, the aches of rationing beginning to take their toll as she hadn’t had a solid meal in perhaps a week. Green saw her do this, and she turned her head to the tribal guard and clopped her hooves together again speaking with command. “Food, please; for our guests. They’re hungry, and no guests of mine will go without.”

The gesture had startled Sparks, and she looked up teary eyed as she could bring herself to speak. Between the fatigue of their travels and her breaking spirit she barely had the strength to refuse the food, now wary of the food’s procurement, and she barely had the strength to argue with Eagle for them to find another way; a cleaner way. Raiding was wrong, but against her own conscience she began to slowly accept it, not out of sympathy, but of necessity. It gave her no comfort as she chewed the nearly flavorless food brought to them, and her full stomach barely gave any as they were given a room for rest, little more than a corner in some relatively intact room on the third floor of a long abandoned building.

Most of all, her mind gave her little peace as sleep came to her late into the night, despite being within the shelter of proper walls and a roof, and a little barrel fire to boot warming them against the outside chills. She wished for it, yes, but now she swore she’d trade all the comfort in a heartbeat for the open world around her in The Wastes, now with a solid guess at how the comforts were gained.

*** *** ***

Sparks awoke, deadened to the world as her lethargic eyes drones about the somewhat brightly illuminated room. She slowly forced herself up, and she wrapped her woolen blanket tighter on her as she squinted about; her mind chasing thought after wordless thought in waking. She looked out one of the windows on the wall, and a curtain, patchy and torn in spots, filtered the sunlight through the clouds above, and a pale sheen of its radiance basked the room’s interior. Across the room were Eagle’s things, his blanket and pack pressed to the wall, and the barrel in the room’s center had fallen to embers; the heat gone from it as she had a sudden shiver of cold.

She threw the blanket off of her, out of reflex of her established morning rituals, and she stiffly made her way to the hallway outside the room that ran the length of the building’s interior. It was substantially darker, with leaking light from the outside making its way into the length of the ruined and dilapidated passage, creating a bizarre clash of light and darkness. It was empty, save for scattered objects and trash, relics of the past that formed the voiceless story the building held, and she tripped on some and kicked others in her passing as her hooves fell heavily on the tiles that spanned the floor’s surface.

She neared one of the intact doors that held muffled speech behind it, and as she closed in with it the words were like a bucket of ice water being dumped on her; Eagle and Green, amongst others, planning the attack that she now remembered would happen later that day.

She thought about entering, and with a little spit of rebellion she proceeded ahead, eyelids heavy from both her grogginess and the reminder of the day’s planned events. Her mind, now racing, thought of idea after idea of how to be rid of the entire dilemma altogether, but failing that she just kept walking forward; the subtle clopping of her hooves on the tiles echoing slightly in the near silence.

She huffed a sigh, blowing her messy dust matted mane out of her eyes, and grumbled under her breath; loathing in her voice. “I can’t believe it...”

Even after Eagle’s whole spiel on raiding some weeks ago, he was going through with it, it seemed. Maybe he had some plan or otherwise to wrestle them out of it and get what they needed, but in the end no matter how much she tried to make up excuses for him or imagine some reason behind this she couldn’t stomach it. It turned her guts slowly, and knotting up into a mess of spite in her.

She kept walking forward, now halfway through the hallway with a hung head of shame as her mind fought with confliction. She tore herself apart in self depreciation, and her heavy brows furrowed as she thought of some way to stop this atrocity from happening in the first place. She stopped in place some moments later, and with a sudden surge of hope, however small as it was, she tried to hold her head up as she had an epiphany.

“Eagle’s not the only one of us...” she said lowly, her eyes narrowed “maybe I can help out...?”

She tilted her head in wonder, if it was possible that she, a ‘fresh faced Stable dweller’, could be of greater use than merely some nearly useless fifth hoof to slow Eagle down. Specifically, she amended herself, without such heinous means.

“Alright...” She said to herself, breathing deeply as she spanned the rest of the hallway’s length and entered the stairwell. Down it went into the bleak below, to ground level, where the rest of the city lay. “If I were a stockpile of rations and medicine... where would I be?”

She now trotted her way down the stairwell, a strange newfound vigor in her step that gave her a certain boldness. She remembered one of her father’s characters from Ogres and Oubliettes -- a wise and enigmatic wizard, who always knew the answers to problems with his cunning and intellect. She wondered how he would solve such a mystery, and first decided to try and tap into her own cleverness. As she was mumbling to herself, however, the comparatively bright sky above ripped her from her ruminations and she found herself in the courtyard where she, Eagle, and Green made their way to the gang’s hideout, and half startled by the strange narrowed glare of one of the tribal ponies who roosted there.

The war-painted, polished scrap adorned stallion was one of the larger individuals of the group, made taller by his strangely dazzling headdress and stoutly masculine frame, and he spoke in that strange language they all seemed to speak; broken ponish with random inserts of their own language. His own voice, however, carried the words with a deep, baritone harshness. “Little Mare oughtn’t tread far -- Para Loose -- it is dangerous, as say you.”

Sparks looked up to him, quite literally as she had to back up a step to actually see him without straining her neck, and she spoke timidly, with a hint of aggravation and a head tilt. “Yeah... I’ve been getting that a lot, actually...”

“It is truth, Little Mare...” Sparks looked back to him as he spoke, and his seemingly blank eyes droned as he continued. “World beyond, it is of the Blodlek -- bleeding wound that never closes. Little Mare should be reminded.”

“My name’s Sparks, if you would. Ahem.” She interrupted, irked; the sensation of being looked down upon beginning to drive her crazy. She cleared her throat of phlegm and continued. “I’ve had enough of being called ‘girl’ and ‘Little Pony’...”

“To earn name...?” The tribal said, some surprise in his tones. “Ah, rare to see outlander desire such. We of the Fleet-Hoof have such tradition. You may say... ‘Name Ing Birth’.”

“Naming birth?” She asked, somewhat confused by the odd mixture of throaty speech the tribal had. “Like... being named when you’re born?”

“Perhaps not...” He said with a sigh, and an odd flourish of his hoof. “Ponish tongue not first. Not know of... Idioms or...” His cheeks seemed to grow blushes beneath the paintings on his coat, and she wondered if he was embarrassed by the lack of skill in ponish. He continued anyways, after a cough. “No matter, all of matter is... If you desire name, then Earning Ritual is required.”

“Honestly...” She said, cautiously as some part of her demanded she stay put, but she felt deep within herself she needed to follow her conscious. “I don’t care much at this point, I just want to help; in a way with minimum bloodshed.”

“Hmph...” He said, nodding his head as he tried to understand. “So... in such place you desire light out of darkness? Odd...”

“Huh?” Sparks interjected, confused by his remark. “Odd? How is wanting peace odd?”

“Odd in way Little Mare is so different from rest of your... ‘tribe’. Most ponies of steel and stone want naught more than Blodlek. To desire more is... mark of virtue, you say.”

“Well, I... I guess I’m not like other ponies. Not by far.” She huffed a sigh, sitting down as her hooves began to throb slightly from standing. Her expression was sad, yet happy in an odd way. “I came from a Stable, up in the clouds. Back there, nopony had to... well, kill each other for simple things. Things like...”

“Even food?” The tribal asked; his eyes widened only just. She nodded, and he gave a short little laugh as he shook his head. “Oh... Contant’Min -- the joys of soft life. We spurn such notions... but is beautiful dream.”

“Soft life or not, nopony deserves to die over something as stupidly simple as food. Ahem.” She sat up straighter after she coughed as she looked about the camp, and several of the other tribals, and even a few of the gang members who didn’t bear the bizarre markings, where eyeing her with peculiarity as she felt a sudden surge of sadness. “Food is something that should be shared, given to those who need it to survive this... this hellish world. Ponies used to be -- ahem -- compassionate and caring beings who always cared for one another... All I’ve found out here is death and pain.”

A few in the crowd gave snickering laughs, mostly from the gangers, but the tribals kept their eyes on her. The stallion beside her spoke, solemnly and deeply as he seemed to channel some otherworldly force of peace. “It is truth of The Land. Blood spills and life flourishes. To deny it is foalish, and foolish.”

“Then I am a fool.” Sparks announced clearly as she picked herself up and marched off into the alleyway’s entrance; ignoring her pains. “And I’ll prove that you can be feeling in this world!”

“Hmph...” The tribal murmured something in his own tongue, all but unintelligible to her as she marched off. He stood up slowly, and gave a shake of his body as he followed. She looked back at him, not saying a word as he easily caught up with her with his long stride. He spoke solemnly again, yet with a smirk. “First step to Name Ing, Little Mare... boldness.”

“You don’t have to follow along you know.” She said, her mind churning with glaring hate of the world’s state and all that went with it. She was determined to prove her own beliefs to herself, and Eagle perhaps, but most of all just for her own benefit. “I can do this on my own.”

“‘Many hooves lighten burden’...” he said, enunciating each word clearly, as if in a practiced manner. “Besides... presence of... of ‘Shaman’ needed for The Name Ing.”

Sparks scoffed a little, her taxed mind struggling somewhat with the alien culture of his tribe, yet refused to speak more as she wandered deeper into the city’s bowels. As they exited the winding and mazelike alleyways of the city they were dumped out into the open boulevards of Good Neighbor’s corpse, and Sparks looked both ways before sighing deeply to herself; deep in thought.

“So...” She said, focused on the task at hoof as she dug through the different possibilities for success. “If you insist on tagging along, then tell me where I could find some... ahem... food and medicine.”

“Sick?” He said flatly, looking at her bandaged leg. She nodded hesitantly, a sparing glance given to her leg, and the tribal began to fish something out from his numerous and small hide pouches that lined his belt. “Then drink; should help with spirits... In Fek Shun...”

She eyed the filthy muck matted bottle vessel, about the size of an average Sparkle~Cola bottle, with peculiarity, unsure if it was another of that horrendous drink she had the night before; but his strained speech caught her attention. “Infections? What is it...?”

“You call it medicine. Bitter, brewed of venoms and herbs. Not... of great flavor, but heals spirits; drives away the bad.”

Sparks took the offered bottle with hesitance as she unscrewed the top with her magic and gave its contents a deep sniff. It smelled somewhat revolting, but with a subtle aroma she could describe as pleasant. She shrugged, and gave it a test sip as he had said it was indeed medicinal, and the flavor was more of an odd bitter-sour combination she didn’t expect. It was palatable though, different and odd, but not overly bad in flavor.

She downed the rest of it in gulps and smacked her lips as she appraised the flavor more, and shrugged. “Doesn’t taste too bad I suppose; thanks.”

The tribal chuckled deeply, and smirked as he turned about and looked out into the city. “It is my Impar’Tiv; Shamanic Duty. Little Gift of life’s course, so Sun may shine brighter in passing.” He shook his head, and murmured a little under his breath before speaking again. “Food... yet be more of Dye’Coard; tricky, and draped in veils. Ob Cured like sky.”

Sparks had a hard time discerning his words to actual meaning, but she nodded as she thought she knew what he meant. She started walking in a random direction, hoping it would bear fruit as she sighed again. “So finding food will be... problematic?”

“Small vittles for stew, not so much. I know you and Sky-Bird are seeking... the food of length; time protected. Not so easy for times.”

“Well...” Sparks paused as she tilted her head, her lips pursed. “Who would have decent food stockpiles around here? The town?”

“Easiest guess, worst Tar’jey; target.” He nodded his head in agreement, despite his soured tones. “But they may have what is being seeked. Place of iron and stone bred ponies; Past-Sleepers, we call them.”

“Alright...” She said, trying to build a plan as they went. “No point in scouring the ruins I guess, that could take days, and the attack’s today. Maybe I could...” She stopped in place, head up to the sky as she wondered if she could indeed do what she just thought of. Tilting her head, she gave a short chuckle and continued walking. “Maybe we could even stop this entire attack from happening? Get whoever’s in charge with Good Neighbor to negotiate with you guys.”

“Would be blessing, Mir Ankel; Miracle.” He kept pace with Sparks as he shook his head with doubt. “Maker of Ash, leader of iron-stone ponies always iron hoofed. Not one for speech, but gun.”

Sparks recognized the name he tried to say; Ashmaker. Eagle had told her of him, known to be a huge earth pony stallion and the leader of the Gunponies gang in the town. The mention of his aggressive tendencies didn’t set her mind at ease, but she resolved herself to try at the least. She shrugged in stride, and spoke uneasily. “One way to find out I suppose.”

“Hmph.”

*** *** ***

It took Sparks and the Tribal nearly twenty minutes to get across the ruins and near the border wall of Good Neighbor’s effective fortress. As they wound around the walls, made of little more than buildings stitched together by chariots and steel plates welded together that blocked the alleyways, they searched for holes or other means of bypassing the defenses of the town. It availed little more than aggravation, yet the sounds of nearby hooves on asphalt kept Sparks’ outcries in check. She poured over her short little lessons in stealth from Eagle, and hoped that she would be able to do more than simply get shot for stumbling over rubble.

She was surprised though, as Green had said the day before, that the town was supposedly opening fire with snipers on any who approached the wall. She wondered if she was indeed managing to slip past the scopes and prying eyes of their sentries, who she knew they must have had several within the buildings, or that simply they weren’t doing such a thing at all.

The former meant she was better than she thought at the whole ‘stealth’ thing, yet the latter’s possibility doused her moments of subtle pride. If either of them had been seen yet she wondered if they were marked as mere travelers, or that Green had blatantly lied about the state of things. Part of her wished it was the former, but it merely threw her into disarray as to what was going on exactly. The main gate was locked up and guarded, as she had seen for herself, yet she wondered if they would have shot on sight if they had walked up to it asking for entrance.

She had to shelve the entire debacle and focus, however, as she tried to keep her eyes peeled, looking for hostiles or holes in Good Neighbor’s walls. Both seemed nonexistent for the stretch so far, and it was starting to drive her a little batty.

“Oh come on...!” She exclaimed quietly. “There has to be something here...”

“Hmm...” The tribal finally spoke after the entire walk, and tilted his head. “Often the young forget; no hole, make hole.”

Sparks looked back to him, at first with aggravation as she once again felt the pang of an elder’s glare, but she merely shook her head and thought on his words aloud. “Would it be that easy though? There might be somepony inside to notice us cutting a hole in a wall.”

“Not if done in right place.” He said, yet he conceded her point. “But Little Mare learning, yes; easier to climb over.”

“Climb?” She looked around the surface of the wall before them and she felt defeat when they were all at least two stories high. She remembered with a pang of embarrassment at her climbing skills not but a few days ago against the ‘mole rats’, as Eagle called them, and doubted she’d be able to climb a sheer wall. She did notice, however, that where the walls met the building sides that, if she could get inside them, she might be able to go up to the second or third floors to get over the walls themselves.

She pursed her lips in thought, then nodded thinking that was probably her best bet. “That might work, actually. If we can get inside one of these buildings, we could get over the walls.” She chuckled a little, feeling devious at the idea, yet she sighed as she realized another aspect of it. “Provided we can get past any guards inside. I doubt we’ll have a straight shot anywhere in there.”

“Mhm.” Was all the tribal said, and as Sparks marched off down another street they both looked around for their new objective. Sparks kept her eyes peeled, for both wandering ponies who may have been exploring and spots she could pull off plates of metal to gain entrance simultaneously. She normally could keep track of several different details, but the anxiety of potentially getting shot at rendered the entire experience taxing as she tried to focus.

After around ten minutes, Sparks found a shoddily barricaded window on the ground floor of one of the buildings to the northeast of the town. She looked at it, touched it with a hoof and noticed its flexing; the rusty metal all but tearing at her touch. She smirked, wreathed a section of it with her magic, and with a strong pull of her horn the metal did just that.

She only wished it was quieter than the seemingly cantankerous racket it produced as the entire plate half disintegrated and ripped away from the wall it was attached to, clattering down to the ground with a mighty thud of metal on asphalt. She grimaced when the relative silence was broken, and she shushed it reflexively. “Argh... no no no...!” She turned around, looking for others who could have heard the noise as the tribal seemed content enough to simply stand there. She fixed him with an apologetic expression and chuckled nervously. “Erm... made a hole...!”

“Hmph.”

She turned around and clambered her way into the hole, and once inside, the darkness of powerless light fixtures filling her vision, she kept her ears up as she listened intently for noises within. The tribal seemed quieter than anything, perhaps even Eagle, as he seemed to merely materialize beside her. Half startled she turned to him glowering, but she shook her head and breathed deep of the musty air of the building.

“Alright...” She whispered, her mind now racing as she wondered if the town would place guards in such a place. “You think there might be guards here?”

“Only if ponies believe this to be of Vel’Yew; worth attention.” He looked about, and despite his own ignorance of non tribal pony ways he merely grunted as he spied out trash and debris of the Old World. “This place... not so much of value, little more than hut of stone; maybe home to Skua’Ters.”

“Skewa... what?” She asked, a brow raised at the term. He rolled his eyes, but sighed as he thought hard at what might be understood.

“Mm... you may call them... ‘those without home’, ponies who make ruins home for lack of other place of rest.”

“Oh...!” She whispered in understanding. “You mean squatters, like... Not guards, but just ponies holing up in here.”

“Yes,” he said, nodding with a blank face. “they may not fight, but we are not of this place. I know not of how these ponies are.”

She screwed her face up as she wondered that herself; would anypony they meet sell them out? Guards especially would, but squatters or regular townsponies might not. She sighed though, figuring that the entire situation might have everypony within on edge, and she knew it would be best not to risk it at all. “Well, either way it’s best not to test it, I suppose.”

“Good.” He said, nodding. “Good student learns fast, bad ones die young.”

Sparks picked herself up and delved deeper into the building, ears and eyes peeled for sudden intrusions as she tried to navigate the shadow shrouded interiors. She almost stumbled a few times on the random scattered debris, but she kept herself quiet quite effectively. As she neared the other side of the building she sidled up to a window, small slivers of light leaking from the edges of attached metal plates, and she looked through it trying to see inside Good Neighbor itself.

She didn’t see much; nopony or nothing in particular that piqued her interest. It seemed little more than just another alleyway, and she sniffled as she turned about to look for the stairwell of the building. The tribal followed, and eventually she found something akin to a fire escape. They proceeded, going up and up the half wrecked, but intact flights of stairs ascending into darkness, until they reached the third level.

Sparks wreathed the lever knob on the door before them in her magic, and as she slowly creaked the door open the tribal gave a short, startling exclamation. “Wait, Little Mare...!” He held a hoof on her shoulder, her body tense from his sudden words, and he gestured with his hoof down to the floor. “Traps... See the wire?”

She looked down, a bead of sweat inching its way down to her brow, and she saw the barest little sliver of a silvery glint that hovered in the air like a spider web’s sheen. She breathed deeply, her horn’s magic dimming as the wire’s reflection disappeared, and she stepped back slowly with her eyes fixed on the spot she saw it. It was barely up to her hoof’s fetlock, but there all the same.

“Whoa...!” She exclaimed with barely a whisper, and she turned to him with a nervous grin. “Th... Thanks...”

“Focus, Little Mare...” he said keenly “follow wire, trap still there.”

Sparks turned to look at the wire, yet the darkness veiled its form quite well. She used her horn to activate her PipBuck’s lamp, its pale greenish light flooding the stairwell, and like a flare the wire shone brightly in their eyes. She followed the wire’s length, and found it connected to some odd makeshift trap of sorts. What made her fold her ears in fear, however, was possibly the world’s worst idea of a bouquet.

“Grenades...” She said, recognizing the three smooth, pear-like shapes that hung before her. “Whose sick idea of a trap is this?”

The tribal’s eyes narrowed, recognizing the danger but the term and true danger alien to him. “Gren... gren aids?”

Sparks shook her head, and sighed as she rubbed a temple with her hoof. “They’re grenades... explosives, pull the pin and they explode, like... like a gun, sort of, but they affect entire areas.” She inhaled slowly and deeply, but looked to him with a cautious stare. “Wouldn’t happen to have a knife on you I could borrow?”

“Yes.” He said, and with a turn of his head he drew a rather primitive, but well maintained curved blade that seemed to have been carved from some metal plate. It had similar tribal markings to the ones he wore, but the sharp edge was obviously the part he slaved over.

Sparks nodded, and took the blade in her magic. The levitating blade made its way up to the bouquet of explosives, and with a focused stare she held her breath. She grasped the wire, holding it tightly and she used the knife to cut the wire, keeping pressure off the grenades themselves. With the wire cut, she slowly lowered the grenades down to eye level and inspected them.

“Yeah...” She said, grimacing as she couldn’t tell one way or another if she could disarm them or otherwise. Her skills with traps, or bombs in general, weren’t so sharp as for her to know. “We’re just gonna set these down ever so gently...”

Surprisingly without any retribution from the explosives, they nestled down without a single one of them detonating, and pleased with herself she returned the knife to him; turning off her PipBuck’s lamp in the process. Again she tried the doorknob, and keeping her eyes peeled for other traps she creaked the door open wide enough for both of them to cross.

The placement of the trap got Sparks paranoid of others, and she watched each hoof fall with intense care. The lighting of the building left little room for mistakes, and every instinct in her demanded that she keep her PipBuck’s light off for fear of unseen onlookers, and so they stumbled their way through the dark recesses with little more than the high noon daylight from the outside leaking through cracks in the walls and covered windows.

They inched their way through the building, finding a few more wires that made her heart flutter every time she realized. They repeated the process of cutting the wires and letting down the bombs, over and over, and she eventually wondered if they were merely a deterrent for trespassers, or a defense mechanism for something valuable in the building. Either way, she thought, it didn’t much matter. A trap like that, or the possible several that could lay within, would decimate both her and the stallion without a second for regretting their life choices regardless.

After five of those traps were disarmed they finally made their way to the other end of the building. She peered out a window, trying to make out subtle details that the outside could give, and she finally saw with acuity a few ponies traipsing about outside. They wore pinstripe suits of various hues that were armored, and a few even had battle saddles strapped to their sides that bore small but menacing weapons.

“Uh oh...” she said, nervously “I think I see some guards...”

“Wearing?” The tribal asked in a single word, and she described their apparel to him as she was locked gazing out the crack.

“Suits, it looks like. Some kind of armor on them, and a few have weapons.”

“Hmph...” he grumbled a little, but nodded. “Gunponies, chief tribe among Good Neighbor; organized and worthy fighters...”

Sparks turned to him, his decorated face half lit up by the light from the outside, and she saw his uneasiness. “I heard of them before... some gang who controls the city, right?”

He nodded, and spoke again with some measure of respect in his voice. “Yes, they have repelled dozens of other tribes. They have controlled the city for... long time; stretch of years... Attacking them proves fruitless, most times.”

Sparks looked back through the crack and followed one of them, their movements. The comparatively well kempt stallion seemed to be doing little more than a patrol in her eyes, a sweeping pattern before disappearing from view. Another stood still, close to a wall as their eyes droned about in boredom.

She nodded, and sighed deeply as she thought of what to do next. “Alright, the guards down there will likely shoot us if they see us, and we aren’t looking for a... a bloodbath. Are you good at sneaking past them?”

“Asked as if I was a colt on his first hunt.”

She recoiled a little from his seemingly insulted tone, and she nodded with a nervous smile. “I’ll take that as a yes...”

*** *** ***

Several minutes had passed as Sparks and the tribal made their way through the building, found an exit they could use to get to the ground level behind the walls, and proceed to slink their way past the guards below. Sparks felt more nervous than she ever had been before, and even as her hooves fell silently on the pavement she felt like her heart rate made more noise than she ever could with a thudding in her ears.

She had looked up between the buildings, hoping there were some kinds of walkways spanning them they could use to bypass the guards out in the open, but alas none were found leaving no other option. She kept from even breathing loud as she tried her best to calm her heart, but the nervous sweat she had continued to plague her as she subtly shook like a leaf.

Eventually, they managed to find holes in the rotations and paths, openings in their sights that allowed the both of them to get past the prying eyes of onlookers. Mostly she felt as if she was simply following the tribal’s path, much like she followed Eagle around, but eventually her eyes picked out details she could make use of. Her small body permitted access to small holes and dives in the terrain, little shortcuts beneath the corpses of chariots and other large industrial wreckages as Eagle had pointed out. Such paths required her to separate from the stallion, but she told him to catch up with her later on. His nod and disappearance did little for her nerves, but she soldiered on regardless.

Only once did she snag on the barbed and jagged environment, and the experience of poking out like a sore hoof was the only description she had for the terrifying event. The guard had seemingly just barely missed her, and as she delved deeper into the piles of mechanical junk she had to take a moment to reassert control over herself. Breathing deeply she was glad to have some hole to hide in for a moment, and for a moment she was surprised to realize she wasn’t coughing anymore. She silently thanked the tribal, who was off in some other part of the courtyard’s enclosure sure to appear again, and his medicine.

The momentary distraction did little good though as her nerves felt fried from anxiety, but she managed in the end enough to continue. She cursed under her breath, and calmed her shaking hooves as she pressed on.

As time passed, they had snuck their ways past one courtyard, and another, and a final one that seemed downright teeming with both regular townsponies and guards. The last one seemed to be close to some central hub of activity of the town, but the still dilapidated forms of the environs left Sparks wondering if it was still merely a back alley to the town itself. With so many ponies wandering about, however, got her thinking on the town itself.

The sheer amount of ponies there needed to eat, that much she was surprised to think, and her mission being just that subject she knew they had to have some stockpile of food to sustain themselves. They all may have exhibited various levels of malnourishment and general hunger, but she wondered if that was merely wastelandic life at work. The twenty or thirty different ponies she had seen already needed to eat, so somewhere in the city was her goal. It gave her strength to press on, but as she kept slinking past different sets of eyes behind rubble and passages a question arose; ‘how exactly would she solve their food problem?’

The first guess she had turned her stomach somewhat; theft. Stealing the food would be the easiest way to get the supplies, but that still meant sneaking back out past all the guards they had seen thus far. No mean feat the first time around, but going back through she and her tag along would have to carry enough food for both her and Eagle, nevermind the fact the tribal might wish to haul more back with him for his own tribe. Sneaking past the guards with saddlebags brimming with rations and other foods seemed impossible to her, and she screwed her face up as she thought of other means.

One came to her that she genuinely felt would work -- as foolish as it sounded in her head. Negotiation with Ashmaker, talk him into giving them food or bartering something he would trade the supplies for. She wondered what exactly would work in that regard, but she came up blank with anything she currently had on hoof in hard trade value. She thought hard for a while, past one sentry and past another, until she had one idea of what she could trade.

Information; the attack that was going to happen later that day. It was perhaps the only thing she wielded as ‘valuable’, but she felt a pang in her chest as she fought with herself and her desires. She wanted to prevent the attack altogether, but no matter how she turned it about in her mind she found few plausible ways to do so. Aside from setting Green and Ashmaker down in a room to talk out their differences and negotiate, which felt like a doomed plan to begin with, there was no way for her to prevent it she felt.

She wondered if the information on the attack would allow Ashmaker some awareness of the volatile situation, but she doubted her reflexive expectations would happen; that he would realize his mistakes and seek peace between the gangs. The world had shown her one angered retaliation after another, but some small part of her wanted her to try at the least.

So, it was then her hoofsteps were charged with some amount of vigor again. She had a plan, and she would see it through to fruition -- Goddesses willing. She still had to get close to Ashmaker and speak with him, however; it was the only way to find out if it would work.

She smiled nervously, and hoped against sense that it would.

Footnote: Red Eagle level 22

Sparks level 5 +21 skill points!

Chapter 20: The Biggest Little City

Chapter 20: The Biggest Little City

Sparks made her way past the last of the guards within hearing, and now inside the safe confines of a small room, little more than a hut effectively, she let out a deeply held sigh of relief. She held a hoof up to her eyes, and the trembling was apparent even as her own eyes quivered from the strains of both physical and mental efforts. She used her magic to pull a canteen from her pack, and she took a long sip from the water within as she tried to pant silently. She gulped, swallowed and groaned in exasperation as she hated how paranoid ponies seemed to be in their hatred of each other; her tongue lapping around the metallic aftertaste.

Soon after, she was met with the tribal stallion who had finally found his own hidden way around the guards to her again. She looked at him, and offered her canteen out of reflex as she breathed in large draughts.

He chuckled darkly, and took the canteen graciously. “You have my thanks...” He looked her up and down after taking a sparing sip, hoofing the canteen back to her. He smirked as she stowed it away, shaking his head. “How Little Mare made it to mountains with such... lack of body is Mir Ankel.”

“Yeah, well...” She wanted to retort, maybe even curse at him, but her taxed state made her refrain and merely bite her tongue. “Whatever... You see anything on your way here?”

“Hmm...” he murmured something in his tongue, and breathed deeply as he spoke. “Maybe; gate to east lightly guarded, maybe most ponies here forward guards. Does not mean it is abandoned, though.”

“Lightly guarded...” She caught her breath some more as her body’s shaking receded, and she nodded with a blank face. “Well, lightly is better than heavily.” Her expression twisted up as she thought hard one more time on her plan, and after a few moments she smirked a little, looking to the tribal with an appraising look. “Alright... I’ve got a plan, and I’ll need you to do something; if you can manage it.”

“Hmph.”

His stance didn’t change, neither did his expression as she nodded once and looked out beyond their shelter. “We can’t kill anypony while where out here... but I need to get close to Ashmaker, enough to speak with him and hopefully talk him into being reasonable. It won’t be easy, I know, but I have to try.”

The stallion’s face took on a curious expression, and he spoke slowly as he tried to understand. “Where... do I fit in this, this ‘plan’?”

“Well, for one I think the guards will shoot you on sight... being a... a tribal and all; a big one too. Might be they know of your people out in the city, but you might be able to get up into the roofs and keep an eye out for me on my approach to wherever Ashmaker’s at. As small as I am I can probably get through their inner guards.”

“And what if you are found?”

Sparks’ expression twisted up a little as she thought of what to do then; plans always had contingencies, and she didn’t have one which gave her cause for concern. She didn’t want a bloodbath in the streets, not at all, and even if she did want a fight she severely doubted her chances of getting out of a place swarming with these gangers. They weren’t lightly armed, as she had seen, and to top all other reasons for it they were Wasteland born ponies. Killing to them may as well be second nature, so she reaffirmed it in her head that the only thing for it was to keep themselves hidden at all costs.

At all costs was another point of worry for her to consider; would she be willing to kill one to silence them to see her plan to fruition? To kill in general no matter the situation to see her mission to success?

She frowned, spitting at the world with mental curses as she shook her head. “Whatever happens in there, the point is peace. If we can’t get in there silently or without bloodshed then we get out of there; alright?”

“Hmph.” Was all the tribal said as he nodded, and looked around him to ensure they were indeed alone after that diversion. He got up, showing little emotion in his face as he gestured with his head for her to follow. She got up to her fours and shook her body vigorously as she followed him deeper into the nest, so to speak.

Either way this afternoon could end, it could all be catastrophic to them. She hoped again that, with proper attention and mindfulness, she could ensure this little war would be dead before it began. Until then though, she stretched a little mid-stride as she and the stallion wound their way around the gazes of guards, the ever alert eyes beginning to get to her.

*** *** ***

Crouching behind the cover of a junk pile, Sparks and the tribal saw the gate he mentioned, and it was a little imposing she had to admit. The gate itself was inset between two tall buildings, like a wall that cordoned off the alleyway behind it, and the riveted together rusty steel plates were topped with barbed wire and other nasty appearing means of keeping ponies from climbing its height. From beyond, she could have sworn she had heard the low din of some crowd, like an atrium gathering in one of her Stable’s parties, but she fixed her attention to the guards that patrolled the gate.

As they looked around however, Sparks had to admit that something was... off in the way they almost lazily stood there, staring off into the cloud smothered sky like there was no end to their boredom. She could have sworn for a moment that they weren’t at all wound up or worried about things, and the idea that Green was lying became all the more prominent in her mind.

One guard turned about, looking off into the distance as another neared, speaking outside of Sparks’ hearing as she was nestled in a little nook of junk next to a building’s base. She shook her head in confliction, and whispered to the tribal questioningly. “Is it just me, or do these guys even seem like they’re on ‘high-alert’ at all?”

“Guards from earlier seemed so, these ones though...” he looked at them appraisingly, a hint of the tribalistic piercing gaze in his eyes “you may be right, Little Mare.”

“What...” Sparks began to speak, yet she held her tongue for a moment as she wondered if it was wise exactly to ask, but she swallowed and continued cautiously. “What are the odds that Green’s... lying about all this chaos? Sure they’ve got guards out pretty far covering the ruins, but maybe that’s just standard for these ponies?”

“Hmph... I... do not know.” He said, and he gave a short sigh as he looked up to the sky; his eyes following the larger, darker clouds of the blanket overhead. “May be so, Green is Child, unmarked foal of beyond, and the tribe has not fought much with the ponies of stone and steel. The others,” he paused, and seemed to measure his own words carefully, but the tone of distaste was apparent “others of the unmarked Green has gathered from afar, they speak ill of city’s ponies. Hatred in their voices.”

“Yeah, but the way I’m thinking this might just be the town trying to protect itself from the gangs outside. Eagle told me as much that they try to keep the peace.”

“Perhaps... we of Fleet-Hoof care not enough to know. Other, more important matters.”

“Hmm...” Sparks scratched her chin with a hoof, thinking deeply on what could be the truth of things. Without many clues or information, save for what Green and Eagle had told her, all it did was make her want to speak with Ashmaker more. She hoped this entire debacle was just a gigantic misunderstanding, but she had to remind herself to keep an open mind to possibilities that she didn’t like to think. She didn’t have all the pieces, yet, and she hoped she would get the last ones here soon.

She looked back to the guards, two of them were standing next to the gate now and they were chatting about some unheard topic, and she looked to the stallion with curiosity in her face. “Can you hear what they’re going on about?”

“Hmm...” He tilted his head, ears perked as he listened intently towards them, but he frowned as he shook his head. “No; even so, I am not certain I would understand. Your language is... difficult.”

“No worries then.” She looked to them, and as she wondered how she was going to get past them she had an idea. She looked down at her PipBuck, filthy as it had become over these long weeks, as well as her Stable suit. She frowned, wondering if her newest idea would pan out, and she nodded gaining a smirk. “Alright, new addition to the plan. Your part is the same, but I just remembered something.”

“Hmm?”

“How many ponies are running around these gangs wearing what I am? Proper armor with a Stable suit and PipBuck?”

The stallion merely stared her in the eyes with a blank expression. “If you ask how many look like you, none at all.”

Sparks’ had to suppress a little laughter at her seemingly newfound cleverness, but she simultaneously was reminded of the dangers. The Donkeys were hesitant to trust that she wasn’t a raider on paranoia alone, despite the fact that she had seen for herself the downtrodden state of most gangers and raiders. What were the odds that any raider had an outfit like hers, and more importantly, she remembered sullenly, how many raiders had been on the radio of all things? She guessed that the town out of anypony in this hellish place had at the least one radio, and she wondered just how much her own reputation would carry her were she to be recognized.

She frowned a little at the prospect, but she decided to test it, like her younger self testing a hypothesis in science class. “I’m going to try and see if they’ll actually attack, I know we need to get in there, but I’m seriously beginning to doubt they will open fire, on me at the least.”

“What if it goes badly?”

“Same plan as before, I guess; get out of here, and don’t kill anypony, unless... unless it’s absolutely necessary, okay?”

“Hmph.”

The stallion rose from his spot and silently bolted away into the alleyway as Sparks guessed he was going to find some higher ground. She waited around five minutes to let him get into his position, and with a deep sigh and long exhale, she girded her strength and courage to do the one thing she instinctually rebelled against. She stood up, and turned the corner of her cover trying to stand tall as she strode up to the gate.

The first reaction was expected she guessed, one of the guards saw her and jumped to attention as he kicked some part of his battle saddle’s mechanism with a lout metallic clank resounding. She flinched, immediately regretting for a moment her decision as she fully expected to get peppered by bullets any moment, but she shouted out panicked before they could fire on her. “Wait!! Don’t shoot!!”

“We got a live one here!!” One of the guards aimed his weapon directly at her, a wicked grin on his face as he seemed seconds away from wasting her, but the other guard’s eyes flared open as he seemed to recognize something about Sparks.

“Hold your fire!! Hold your fire!!” He shouted loudly, stepping up to the other’s side and putting a hoof on his shoulder with some force as he looked at him with the piercing gaze of an officer.

Sparks recognized the look, as she had seen it all the time with the Enclave’s forces, and she was glad at least one pony of authority was there. He continued speaking shortly after the other guard relaxed a touch, his heavily accented city voice carrying in the spacious courtyard. “Since when did yah evah see one of the other gangs wear a damned Stable suit yah daft moron; nevah mind a fuckin’ filly like her!? Get over here girl, it ain’t safe over there!”

Sparks had to calm her nerves before she cantered over to the gate, and she breathed deeply as she shook her body, glad in some measure to be speaking with some ponies with a firm grasp of ponish. “Thanks for not shooting me, guys...!”

Her meek sounding voice brought a smile to the officer’s lips, and he looked her up and down as she guessed he was appraising her as most other ponies did; a small, weak little mare from a Stable, and she fought the urge to scowl. He spoke up after a few seconds, confusion in his eyes as he continued speaking. “Don’t mention it girl, but how the hell’d yah get this far without gettin’ shot? Don’t you know Good Neighbah’s got problems?”

“Oh believe me; I know all too well...!” She said, chuckling a little as she did with a smile. “One of the reasons I’m here, actually, I uh...” She measured what she should say, realizing that it was a very precarious situation and she needed their trust, and she tilted her head a little as she sighed. “While I was traveling I ran short on supplies, needed to restock and all that, but I, uh... heard that the town’s gotten tense. Part of me wants to know why actually; if it isn’t too much trouble?”

“Not at all ma’am, but you kind of took the long route for that, didn’t yah? We’ve only had issues with the gangs getting’ brave around ‘ere, but we keep our doors open to travelers like yah; traders too if you’re lookin’ for it.”

Sparks’ expression flickered with realization, some truth straight from the pony’s mouth. She nodded, and figured she had to play it safe. “I didn’t know, I’m kinda... well, new out here I guess.”

“Most Stable ponies are, but you’re lucky I know what yah are; most folks out and about ‘ere don’t, yah know? Like this moron!” He gestured with his head towards the other guardspony beside him, who rolled his eyes and shook his head in response. The officer looked toward the gate as he turned around, walking with a leisurely gait as Sparks followed him.

The other guard looked at her, quite uncomfortably as it was a glare she didn’t recognize, but the officer looked at him and gestured with a hoof at him as he spoke again. “Go open the gate, we need to get her inside; she’s looking for some trade and safety, and I won’t have yah lusting after another visitor. Especially after threatenin’ her like that!”

Sparks’ eyes flashed with embarrassment as his words made her realize the guard’s problem. She blushed a little as he eyed her one more time, turned about and followed his orders. The officer looked at Sparks, and back to the gate as he shook his head with a sigh. “Sorry about that, ma’am. The colts around here ain’t seen much of a mare in a long time. Doesn’t help that yah look like you’ve actually showered either.”

“Don’t... don’t worry about it, sir. It’s just... awkward, is all.”

He chuckled a little bit, having considered her words to be a touch of an underestimation. “I have to worry about it; part of my job description is keeping the peace in the Gunponies. It doesn’t suit our suits to be eyein’ visitin’ young mares like workin’ mares in some cat house, I’ll say.”

She didn’t quite understand his meaning as he spoke, but she had some guess that it was probably a lurid topic. She nodded a little, and shrugged as the large gate opened up revealing quite a different sight than the rest of the city. There was some bustling of ponies to and fro, a mix of a few guards and a good deal of regular citizens she thought as it seemed like some small alleyway market place in the tight confines between the two buildings. Most of them were dirty, some of them were beyond filthy, but they were all in one form or another simple looking in both garb and arms. There was a certain peace among them she could see, but beneath it all there was a strange tension in the din of commerce between them.

The officer nodded, and spoke to her as she entered the gate cautiously with stiff limbs. “Don’t worry too much about the town, just keep yahself clean and outta trouble and you’ll be fine. I’d keep yah gun handy, though; lotta tempers burnin’ hot around ‘ere these days.”

“I’ll stay on my best behavior, don’t worry...!” She smiled a little, and the officer chuckled a touch and nodded at her as he turned around.

“See that yah do.”

As the gate shut firmly behind her with a rusty squeal and wooden clank, she turned around with wide eyes at the lively crowd ahead of her. It was a touch overwhelming, to say the least; she was alone, mostly, left to her own devices in a strange town full of strange ponies, and she had to trust her own compass to see her mission through with no pony else to lean on. She breathed deeply, exhaled sharply as she strode forward, nervous. She knew it was plain to see she was, so she tried to look confidant in stride, however most of the confidence was usually ripped away by wayward glances of the other ponies as they stared at her comparatively peculiar barding.

In probably the single most self-conscious time of her life, she realized just how different it truly was between the town and her home. What was normal and commonplace became greedy luxury as something a simple as her jumpsuit would have greatly improved the town’s fashion sense, or modesty she had the displeasure of noticing. Most of the ponies wore little or nothing at all, and those who did wear clothes were usually so downtrodden that she guessed those clothes were pried off of some skeleton’s body in the alleyways. Even then, the outfits her that eyes were sore trying to understand how they could get that filthy were nothing compared to the lack of personal hygiene among them all.

One pony she came face to face with on the street stopped and stared at her with a wild look in his eyes; not a lusting one per se, but more for greed of whatever she had in her pack as his eyes shifted between hers and her saddlebags. His numerous missing teeth, the remaining ones browned and stained beyond saving, is mostly what her eyes kept focusing on, but as she tore her eyes away to try and be polite the rest of the stallion’s weathered and wrinkly face proved to be no better as it was unkempt to a tee. It reminded her of some crazed mad scientist actually out of some cheesy serial.

He cracked a smile, and with the display of patchwork teeth and the sullen eyes he spoke, and his fast paced voice was about as uncomfortable on her ears as much as his appearance was to her eyes. “Hey there little mare...! Lemme tell yah it is a beautiful day out here, despite it all! Yah here to peruse my wares?”

“Wait... what?”

She looked at him somewhat dazed, as the sheer overload had her reeling. His breath as he continued speaking proved to be the cherry on top however. “My wares...! I’ve been all over Equestria, seen things your little Stable-born brain couldn’t even begin to comprehend; like Zebrican devils and Palominan dervishes from beyond the sands! I travel all over to bring yah exotic wares from beyond; for you to ogle and be amazed!”

“I’m... I’m sorry, but I’ve got things to do.” She said, overwhelmed by the intrusive gestures and the lack of personal space the stallion exhibited.

He tried his best to stop her in her tracks without so much as a single touch, jumping in front of her and speaking even faster than before. “Now wait-wait-wait, miss! What we’ve got here is gen-yew-ine relics from beyond our lands; yah sure that not even a glace is what yah want -nay, need! Your life might be empty for ignoring such priceless artifacts!”

“Seriously, I’ve got to go...!” Sparks announced loudly as she rushed her way past the now confirmed crazed salespony. She shook her head as he tried to follow her, but he seemed to give up the chase and move onto another pony in passing; his rapid fire voice ebbing into the distance.

She breathed deeply, trying to reassert herself into reality as the experience dazed her slightly, but before she could her eyes trailed across the numerous other market stalls, each and every one littered with different oddments like scrap or salvaged goods. One after another the merchants beside them greeted her with widely varying approaches, from cordial to apathetic, even an excess of paranoid shooing as if they thought of her as a thief. The entire alien culture of the marketplace had her on edge, but before long out of the corner of her eyes she spied something truly interesting to her.

It was a stall, much like the rest along the alleyway, but unlike them the battered and disemboweled computers that were arrayed on the surface made her immediately look to them in wonder. She walked up to the stall and, with a hint of recognition in her eyes, she ogled them piece by piece. She even reached out to touch one little machine, which looked like some well worn and rusted engine component at first, but she was cut short by the voice that seemed to merely materialize from behind the table.

“Lookin’s free; touchin’ ain’t Stable filly...!” The voice was a mare’s, and an old one to boot yet far more easy on her ears than most of the others that bothered her; like an eccentric grandmother’s voice. The voice’s owner came into view to reveal herself to be a grease spotted, old earth pony mare; her mane tied up into a bun behind her wide brimmed sunhat.

She was smiling as Sparks’ hoof yanked backwards reflexively, and she chuckled a little as Sparks prattled off in embarrassment. “Oh...! Sorry, ma’am... Sorry!”

“Ah, fret not girl; I’m just jostlin’ yah!” The old mare chortled as she spoke, shaking her head. “Ain’t the first time I saw that look in yah eye. Yah know what you were lookin’ at there?”

“Um...” Sparks said as she looked back to the contraption on the table, and its small, well worn form made it difficult to discern. She looked at it from several different angles while squinting her eyes, and she saw on one of the large faces there was a keyboard with an almost full suite of keys. Just below them was another suite of ports for plugs, most of which she recognized were for computers and the like, with one of them jumping out at her as a Stable-Tec styled port. She looked back to the mare raising a brow. “Is that a... an arcanotech matrix key?”

“Heh, yah sure know what yer lookin’ at!” The old mare chortled again, nickering as she spoke. “A beat up one, sure, but not just any old type o’ key really; the master type of one!” She looked down at Sparks’ PipBuck with a longing gaze, but she pointed a hoof at it and continued with a nod. “Oughta mesh perfectly with that three thousand on yer leg; no doubt.”

Sparks eyed the little machine with far more intrigue than before. She had seen a few when she was younger, in far better condition mind, and even had the opportunity to use one from time to time, but alas the Stable kept them under lock and key due to their sensitive natures. A single pony getting their hooves on one could, if they had the skill, modify or even redesign the entire spell matrixes of any piece of technology that used them. That included almost everyponies’ PipBucks, all the way to the Stable’s reactors and all arcanotech in-between.

So she remembered anyways, as she ogled it with scrutiny. “Is... is it for sale?”

“Hmmm...” The old mare seemed to contemplate to herself in a half senile expression, but she shrugged after a pause. “Quite possible it is, but I haven’t a lick of sense to what it’d be worth really. None of thuh rock heads around ‘ere can use it, but you sure can. Normally...” She tapped a hoof on her chin, adopting a wry look. “Normally I’d charge a lot more for this type o’ thing, but it ain’t like there’s a huge demand fer ‘em. Whaddaya say about four hundred caps -- wait, four fifty...!”

Sparks’ eyes dimmed as she knew she didn’t have that kind of money, and she hung her head in shame and disappointment as she spoke. “I don’t have that kind of money; sorry...”

“Hrmm...” The old mare kept scratching her chin, gritting her teeth a little as she looked about her stall. “Well, sorry as I can be but I gotta make me a livin’, yah hear?”

“Well...” Sparks’ eyes lit up just a touch as she interjected. “Would... would you barter for it then, maybe? I’ve got some... ah...” She looked over to her pack, fishing through it as she looked for objects and items she didn’t need. “I’ve got some medicine and ammo I don’t really need.”

“Well...” the mare said, shrugging “being honest, some proper med’sin might be useful, and at the very least I could trade in the bullets and the rest fer caps. Whaddaya got?” She began clearing off a stop on the table, putting away several different knickknacks and wiping off the surface to ‘cleaner’ levels. “Here, put ‘em up here; lemme see.”

Sparks took several boxes of ammunition from her saddlebag and laid them down on the spot, taking several hooffuls at a time before taking out her medical bag and opening the zipper. She looked at the syringe of PainAway, and its magenta glowing hue. She begrudgingly remembered the chem fiends and their fixation with chems, placing it alongside the rest with a certain scorn.

The mare nodded, appraising the array of goods before her with scrutiny as she turned about a few of the boxes. “Eh... forty, thirty-eight, nine milli... seems yah been busy...!” She then looked at the capped needle of the PainAway chem and shrugged. “Yeah, always a use fer yah there...” She kept going on for a minute or so as she seemed to tally things up in her head, and came to a blank faced conclusion. “Yeah, I suppose all this should be alright, provided you want sometin’ else actually.”

“Wait, really?” Sparks said, and the old mare nickered.

“Yeah, yah done good little filly! Turns out that all this stuff is worth more to me than this ‘ole thing.”

Sparks had a moment of glee in her beaming face, but it was dashed a little bit when she remembered with subtle embarrassment at her an Eagle’s food predicament from earlier that week. She wondered if the old mare was just selling her a story, or worse if the device even worked, so she cleared her throat and spoke; the words sticking in her throat. “Alright, well... I’m sorry, but can I try it out first; to make sure it’s working properly?”

“Aww, fiddlesticks youngin’! O’ course it works, try it out fer a spin if yah don’t believe me!”

Sparks nodded, embarrassment and guilt on her face as she levitated the arcanotech master key up from the table and turned it around and about before her. She found a slot on the side of the rusted case, a port of sorts for her PipBuck cables to access, but overall the machine looked to be little more than a simple, stamped steel case rectangular box. She withdrew her cables, plugged one end of them into the key and the other into her PipBuck, and to her surprise her PipBuck’s screen lit up.

The pale green words typed out across a new text box on the display, and she read the technical information on the screen as her PipBuck’s system was clattering with a low and dull, electronically and magically warbled sound.

New Hardware found

::: Ministry of Arcane Technology/Stable-Tec Proprietary format :::

Arcane Technology Spell Matrix Master Key...

Installing New Hardware...

Install successful...

Input command...

[]

Lo and behold, Sparks’ eyes lit up with glee that it was indeed as advertised. A small piece of her grew joyous at the discovery of honesty, and she had a moment no better described than a restoration of faith in Equinity after one painful example after another of the opposite. “Oh wow, you weren’t kidding! This thing still works!”

“Like ah said, youngin’! Call me a liar an’ eat that hoof o’ yers...”

Sparks held her head down in shame, and frowned a little as she spoke apologetically. “Sorry ma’am... I’m just... I’ve been fooled like that once or... or twice now; I don’t mean to be rude.”

“Aw shucks, girl; don’t worry about it! It’s a good thing tah have these days, as yah never know when somepony’s gonna hash you outta deal that seems too good tah be true! Yah remember that!” The mare looked over her stall again, and dug through it a little to find some other appropriate piece there to balance out the trade as she grumbled to herself seemingly incoherently. Eventually she looked up and asked Sparks a question; a brow raised. “Speaking of which, anything else you see that you might like? Might be something of use to yah, out there in the great world to save yer skin.”

“I, uh...” She looked over the various oddities, one after another seemingly little more than computer garbage she couldn’t, or didn’t know how to, use. A few she recognized, but overall the rest of it seemed to be only interesting to a tinkerer. She sheepishly laughed as she looked down at her newly acquired arcanotech key, and smiled. “Wouldn’t happen to have an owner’s manual or something for this? I’ve seen them before but I never learned how to use them.”

“Well... lemme see then.” She bent down, rummaging through her stall’s contents as she tossed one component after another to her sides. She was mumbling something to herself all the while, but after a minute she came up for air and sighed with a shrug. “That’d be a nope, youngin’. I ain’t got a little booklet on that gem... I do have an old manual of sorts, might be useful and I’d throw it in for this haul.”

“A manual on what, exactly?”

“I dunno,” the mare shrugged and picked it up in her teeth, setting the dust matted and somewhat water damaged book on the table “but it’s a biggun.”

Sparks looked at the seemingly massive book on the table, and after dusting off its cover her eyes beamed at the discovery. It was an old copy, exceptionally old she noticed from the damage as if it had endured centuries of abuse, of a Big Book of Arcane Sciences.

She stuttered a little as she cracked open the cover and saw the first page’s title repeating the cover’s information, save for the addition of copyright listings. “Oh absolutely, this should help! Thanks!”

“Hmph...” the old mare took on a sour look with a frown “normally I’d charge extra for that reaction, but it’s not like these numbskulls ‘round ‘ere read much. Call the trade even I guess.”

Sparks nodded with a now wide smile on her face, and she immediately put the book in her saddlebag with a careful, almost maternal care as she looked back to the mare with beaming eyes. “Thanks a lot, ma’am. I hope you can use those!”

“No doubt in mah mind, youngin’! Old Cap over there’s always buyin’ bullets, and heck, some painkillers are always in demand. I just hope yah can actually use what yah got. Not much need for tech-nickel support these days.” The mare looked up of a sudden with a strong glare of disappointment in Sparks, but she softened a touch and spoke grandmotherly again to her. “And, since we plum forgotten our manners, my name’s Granny; pleasure to do business!”

Sparks smiled as she hung her head, embarrassed again, but she looked up and spoke earnestly as she held up the arcanotech key with her magic. “Mine’s Sparks, Granny, and it was. You mind if I sit here a moment to play around with this?”

“As long as yer outta the way of my other potential customers, why not youngin’? Good luck with it and all!”

As they gave their parting words, Sparks turned around to sit beside the stall. She nestled the master key close to her as she presented her PipBuck closer to her eyes. She saw the command line still blinking away, a little pale green rectangle beside the arrow, and she did the first thing that came to mind for computer sciences as she used her horn’s magic to peck away on the master key’s keyboard.

[]

/help

...loading

STABLE-TECH ISSUE ARCANO-TECH MASTER KEY command list
For more options, please see the included technical manual provided by your local
STABLE-TEC licensed technician.

Diagnostic

Defragmentation

Reboot spell matrix

Access utilities/subroutines

Copy files/spells

Debugger

Initialize spell matrix

[]

Sparks was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer wealth of options at first and tapped her chin as she went over which to choose first. The diagnostic and defrag options felt pretty important to her, as her PipBuck had gone weeks without the least bit of technical care, and it made her conscious about it -despite the fact that PipBucks were advertised as basically bomb proof. The one for rebooting spell matrixes felt useless for now, but she figured it could be useful if she ever found some deactivated terminals or some such article of arcanotech. The thought made her instinctively look up, the bustle of the marketplace seemed to go on as if she didn’t exist, and she mused that she hadn’t seen much of any intact technology at all on the surface. She frowned at the idea, the lack of technological convenience simply agitating.

She looked back down at the screen, and her eyes lit up though as she wondered what the entry for accessing subroutines was all about. She eyed her PipBuck in deep thought, wondering if her own trusty device had any sort of secrets yet to be seen, and she flipped over the master key to punch in the command choice. She typed in another command she knew about, and the text screen flittered more pixels on the PipBuck’s screen.

/help ‘Access utilities/subroutines’
Access utilities/subroutines performs a sweep of the Arcane Technology device for programmed spells and other functions that are deactivated for consumer use/safety. This can include functions built into the devices that are contractually installed for Ministry/Military/Subsidiary utility.

WARNING: Activating these utilities/subroutines can void warranties and/or violate laws pertaining to proprietary technologies, CivilianSafe policies enacted by numerous Ministries (See CivilianSafe articles 3b and 5b-h), or the Wartime Equestrian policies against seditious use/distribution/modification, unless overseen by a qualified and licensed technician with ‘Proper Use’ forms filed at your local MINISTRY OF WARTIME TECHNOLOGY HUB

Sparks had a moment of pause as she tried to process the information the machine suddenly spat out at her. The lengthy dissertation of legalities from before The War had her reeling, and she had to shake her head as, for a moment, she recognized some of it from her Stable. The biggest similarity was the ‘proper use’ form, a form that was almost always necessary to even use some pieces of tech, let alone work with them as a career technician, but the notes of filing them in hubs or referencing different laws and policies had little meaning to her. She had a moment of devious glee, however, as she realized she had no such oversight anymore, and she keyed in the command to activate whatever her little PipBuck had in store.

Access utilities/subroutines

...loading

Mandatory Warning!
Before accessing this command, please ensure you are in compliance with the CivilianSafe policies enacted by numerous Ministries (See CivilianSafe articles 3b and 5b-h), or the Wartime Equestrian policies against seditious use/distribution...

She huffed a sigh, and immediately clicked the space bar with some force to skip over the block of text as it flittered to life. It loaded in completely in a sudden flash, and the confirmation line appeared below with that same arrow and blinking rectangle, only accompanied by new text.

Are you sure?

Y/N

[]

She clicked the ‘y’ key, and after a few seconds the machine gave off a warbled magically electronic sound as the screen seemed to strobe a moment. The text blocks rolled away, replaced by an image of the Stable-Tec mascot mare with a large ‘scanning, please wait’ block of text beneath her. Sparks had to suppress a giddy giggle as she was held in suspense, and before long the screen loaded in several other blocks of text; information, some of which she barely recognized.

STABLE-TEC PipBuck 3000b

List of Generic Spell Programs:

Ether-wave Radio = true

a. Ether-wave Messanger = true

b. Ether-wave Mainframe access/transfer = true

Personal Information processing cache = true

Geographical Positioning = true

a. GP uplink-synchronizer = true

List of STABLE-TEC standard/non-standard issue utilities:

Stable-tec magical radiation counter = true

Stable-Tec Equestrian Military Assistance spells:

a. S(table-Tec) A(ssisted) T(argeting) S(pell) = true

b. Stable-Tec E(yes) F(orward) S(parkle) = false

Stable-Tec A(ssisted) M(edical) D(iagnosis) S(pell) = false

Stable-Tec Inventory catalogue/sorting = false

Stable-Tec Tag spell = true

Sparks frowned a little as she read through the list. Some of which she knew of, quite intimately she would say. The Ether-wave radio she had grown to love and hate, others like the instant messaging spell were usually only useful to the rest of her Stable back home it seemed. Her dad used it all the time to coordinate his little gaming group, the work teams would use it to send forms or part orders, even the Overmare used it to address the Stable with little news clips that weren’t worth an intercom announcement. She laughed sadly in nostalgia as she remembered she only ever really used it to pass notes in class; usually getting detention in the process.

She looked back down at the screen, looking at the rest of the options. Mainframe access was usually taken for granted, the data pad even more so, and the map was borderline useless to her and everypony else. At least, was useless until it expanded its borders beyond her Stable’s steel walls when she stood in the outside air. She locked eyes with the one spell she had used almost religiously since then as well; S.A.T.S., and it caused her to grimace with a small taste of bile before continuing down the list.

Her eyes caught on the mention of the E.F.S. spell. She knew what it was, roughly as she never used it for lack of reasons, but to her memory it was supposed to be a sort of... compass? She didn’t know much of anything beyond that, as her map seemed to have cardinal directions pretty much down pat, but she shrugged a little and clicked the section it sat in, followed by the number for its space. She typed in a ‘t’, which auto completed to ‘true’, and for a moment nothing happened she could observe.

However, of a sudden, she realized the screen on her PipBuck locked up for a moment, and she could hear a small, faint sound of magical-electronic warbling common of PipBucks, or any arcano-tech really. Even more suddenly her vision was clouded with what she could only describe as small, miniscule explosions in her sight. She flinched reflexively, pulling her head down as the flashes of pale green light merely fizzled into existence, and before long those lights materialized into a framework. Lines formed in her eyes, which then filled in with even more blips of light in her vision along them. She clenched her eyes shut, and the darkness that enveloped her sight freed her of their gaze, but after a few seconds of relative silence, her ears thudding with her heightened heart beat, she realized nothing was happening.

She opened one of her eyes again, and saw a clear and crisp line above her practically right in front of her. One she recognized immediately as a compass, as she expected, but the seemingly floating display followed her head as she moved and turned, and the little markers on the bar zoomed past as she did so. Between a few of them she noticed that several passing ponies had little matching green marks that followed them on the line as they moved among the typical cardinal markers of a compass; the letters ‘N’ and ‘E’ for north and east. She let out a sigh of relief, a random passerby giving her an accusing look. She shook her head with a giggle, smiling awkwardly as they passed, and she looked back down at the master key with a glimmer in her eyes.

Sparks was taken aback by the new device’s capabilities so far, and she immediately looked to the manual on arcane sciences, dusting off the cover with the intent on discovering what other wonders the machine would have in store. She had a moment of confliction, however, and remembered her mission, the entire reason for her being there in the first place, but her desire to continue fiddling with the new piece of technology, and the other spells disabled on her PipBuck, fought with the urgency she reminded herself of. She sighed deeply, and, after a minute or so of weighing her options, she packed away her ‘new toys’ into her saddlebag and stood up. After dusting off her barding and giving her pack a vigorous shake, she looked up and took in a deep breath; her mind now churning with suspense as she delved into the crowd of ponies and deeper into the city.

*** *** ***

Further on down the path Sparks had to control herself quite actively. The marketplace was small, but dense in a way that reminded her of her Stable in lunch hour, and the mental whiplash from just how different these ponies were made her anxious. Judging by her new compass feature, the Eyes Forward Sparkle, there were many ponies living in Good Neighbor, more than she had expected for sure as she quickly made her way through the crowd. More impressively, or perhaps unnervingly, the E.F.S. was capable of telling her that other ponies or living beings in general where apparently close by, despite there being absolutely no visual or audible marks for her to know.

Several times a single pip or a pair behind the solid walls of some ruined building beside the road made her aware of others, and her subtle feeling of being watched grew as the spell acted as some kind of motion sensor or otherwise. After some time though she arrived deeper into the city, and it opened up with more of what she had already seen; empty alleyways and small courtyards where the ruined towers of the old world made way for what used to be the veins of the city’s commerce. Only now they served as little more than gravel roads, dives for the less than fortunate on to bigger and better things. A few ponies here and there greeted her with little more than nods and simple dismissive gestures, but she almost ignored them as she tried to focus.

However she, in her own inexperience, could do little more than either hopeful thinking or rehashing dilemmas that were dwarfed by more pressing concerns she wasn’t aware of or couldn’t handle. Regardless, she pressed on trying to keep her hopes up.

As she turned a corner in the small maze of the old world corpse, she found herself in a larger than most courtyard. To her right was a large gate of sorts, welded steel and nailed wood meshing together to create a barrier against the outside world. The wall itself harbored few guards to her expectations, but she frowned a little as she wondered just how far Green was lying about it all as their stances were lax. That was the entirety of the confusion for her; the why. Why was Green seemingly lying about it all, or if she thought this was how it was then why did it seem the town wasn’t mirroring her experiences? It all seemed... calm, peaceful even if one were to push the term, but overall only the light tension was to be seen, just below the surface.

She shook her head and pack mid-stride, opting to not dig that hole any deeper than she already had. She had to focus, and she reaffirmed herself onto that reality of her mission. The factors surrounding this entire situation could help, but overall she simply needed supplies. As much as it hurt her to admit, the town’s, or city’s, wellbeing wasn’t necessary, and it left a sour taste in her mouth akin to bile as she even remotely contemplated such a thought.

She turned her eyes to see yet another building, opposite the gate with a somewhat large doorway beneath an overhanging canopy that shielded the door from the elements above. She took a slow stride to the door, and, with a nervous twist of the lever knob attached to it, creaked the door open to reveal the entrance hall to the building.

It was altogether little more than expected; she eyed the dilapidated furnishings with a passing glance as she scanned over the damaged forms of display cabinets and draperies, and she sighed a little as she set her gaze on the stairwell ascending into the upper reaches of the building. She approached the stairs, slowly with a cautious pace, and was half startled when one of the Gunponies’ members came into view with a wary look on her face from a side hallway.

“The hell you doin’ in here, little filly? Don’t cha know this is place isn’t for yah tourists?”

“Um, erm...” She stuttered a little as her nerves went aflame with panic, her eyes turning up to her compass as she silently cursed to herself for not paying attention. She swallowed as she tried her best to maintain a straight face and speak. “Well, I’m here to speak with, uh... Ashmaker, and I’ve...” She was failing in her own judgment, which altogether made her panic worse before she simply took a moment to breath. “I’m here to talk with him, actually. I’m here for, uh... a caravan I’m with, and we’ve, erm... got an appointment?”

Sparks had to suppress the urge to wince at her choice of words. There was no telling, in her silent and short, but explicit, self reprimands, if any caravans were there, or whether any had appointments, and she felt as if it was going to get her hurt, or worse. The Gunpony mare simply stood there with those piercing eyes beneath her horn, but surprisingly enough she smirked a little as she spoke. “An appointment, eh? Yah must be a new gal, ‘cause I don’t recall seein’ a Stable Filly runnin’ errands before; yah sure yah aren’t just pullin’ my chain?”

“I, uh... I’d never do that, ma’am; honest!” Sparks made a split second decision to roll with the conversation flow, and, to her surprise, the mare relaxed a touch as she kept speaking. “My boss -Wagon- he’s got a... erm, a.... a parcel for me to deliver, actually. Information; some that might be valuable to know for trade...!”

The mare stood there, deadpan with a raised brow as she spoke skeptically. “Wagon...? Giving information? Hah!” She laughed as she swept aside her deeply purple mane and adjusted her black suit; her horn prominently pointing towards her as if in wariness. “As if that old colt would ‘give’ anything; not without some sort of asking price.”

“Erm... well, his request was for Ashmaker, actually... ‘His ears only’, he said.”

“Uh huh.” The mare said as she shifted to favor a set of legs; there was a subtle roguish air about her. “That does sound like him, I guess, but it doesn’t mean it won’t go through me first.”

“Erm... he was rather, well...”

The mare raised a brow, as if waiting for Sparks to finish her sentence, but she did it for her as she smiled wryly. “‘Insistent’?”

“Y-yeah. He insisted.”

As Sparks looked down at her hooves, the mare came up to her with a subtly alluring pace, but she looked up and saw her deeply purple eyes had a sort of cleverness behind them. She couldn’t place it, but the worry that erupted in her mind was all but cast away as the mare nodded her head to the side and shrugged. “Good enough, I suppose. Just know this, Stable filly, we’ve got our eyes on yah. Try anything uncouth and you’ll be sorry; and mister Wagon will be too.”

“Of course! I don’t want to cause trouble, after all.”

Sparks couldn’t tell if she actually had bought the story by her tone. The wariness was apparent, but she wondered if it was simply caution from unknowns that had her wound up. Sparks herself was indeed a major unknown in the town, and if the donkeys had reason enough to be cautious beyond paranoia she had to wonder if a town of gangers would have better reason. She had no clue as to why they would though, and she wasn’t given time to wonder as the mare turned around and motioned for her to go up the stairs.

Sparks took the flight up, and the mare followed behind her at a distance like some escort. Before long they reached the top of the stairs, and shortly after a trek down the hall they arrived to a large set of double doors, where the mare flipped her mane aside and smiled.

She raised a brow, sighed, and spoke with a hint of suspense Sparks couldn’t quite place. “Well, let’s see what the boss has to say about yah and ‘Wagon’.”

Footnote: Red Eagle level 22

Sparks level 5 +21 skill points!

Chapter 21: Cycle of Violence

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!