Fallout Equestria ABC: Dangers of the Wasteland

by Doomande

Rating: teen
Tags: Violence, Crossover, Death, Alternate Universe, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Science Fiction, Fallout
Length: 75281

Surviving in the Wasteland is as easy as ABC... or is it?

In celebration of the Fallout Equestria groups 4.500th member did we gather 26 people to tell about the dangers of the Fallout Wasteland, made in the spirit of one of our first and original projects the The ABC's of Fallout Equestria

This is their stories, so please enjoy the many tales, read the ones you want, or stay a while for all of them.

Published 2019-10-30 01:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2020-03-14 20:25:37 UTC

A is for assimilate. The Goddess will come for you Unicorns should not tempt fate

It was raining today. I suppose that wasn’t the best sign of things to come. Either way, this was already going to be an… excessively dark day.

I laid on my back, staring up at the steel ceiling of our boxcar home. I traced my gaze along the rusted out holes and missing rivets that leaked with a steady drip from the torrent outside. A steady plink, plink, plink sounded from the small puddle forming on the floor next to our bed. We’d wanted to get it fixed for some time, but even just those few pieces of scrap metal we would need to patch it seemed like a luxury far beyond our reach. Maybe if I shut my eyes for just a few more moments, I’d wake up and realize that this was all some massively screwed up dream.

A small motion from to my right banished any hope that would be the case. I turned onto my side, watching the mound next to me shuffle beneath the blanket. A few moth-eaten holes in the cloth revealed a beautiful, ash-colored coat. I smiled as I wrapped a foreleg around the mound and pulled the mare close against my chest.

“Mrrmph,” Tender Soot mumbled sleepily, but nestled closer to me. My smile widened as I nuzzled into her black and white mane, breathing deep the subtle scent of smoke and oil. Perhaps not generally thought of as the most pleasant of perfumes, but one that was just so undeniably hers. I cherished every moment of it.

These small moments of peace were what made this all worth it, and allowed us to get out of bed every morning, to trudge out into that unforgiving hellscape, to tune out the pleas and wails of your fellow ponies, to ignore every nagging sense of right or wrong as you try to make it through and start it all over again tomorrow.

For as long as I’d cared to remember, it had always been the two of us against the Wasteland, but that was all about to change. Hesitantly I lowered my hoof, trailing it through the meadow of her chest fluff until I bumped into the base of a hill. With a shaky breath, my hoof scaled the mound before coming to rest on its peak. A small movement rippled beneath her coat and my heart stopped. Steeling myself, I gently massaged across Tender’s swollen stomach until the movement beneath relaxed and subsided.

My family deserved to get a little more sleep.

With a smothered yawn, I turned back over on the mattress and pulled myself from the intoxicating warmth. I stood up onto the steel floor, stretching each of my legs in turn and prepared to start the day.

As quietly as I could, I walked over to a small stove and turned on the gas. My horn burst into light as a quick spell sent our dented, old coffee pot under the spout of water leaking from the roof. After it was filled I placed it atop the stove and another spell sent a small spark into the gas line, igniting the burner. Setting the water to boil, I turned toward an old storage cabinet mounted on the wall and pulled out a small, metal tin.

Inside were a couple of mesh tea infusers and a clump of dried leaves. I sighed dejectedly as I loaded each infuser with a small pinch and placed them in a couple of cracked mugs. For a brief moment, I glanced back at my flank and gazed longingly at the image of a fresh, steaming cup of coffee next an intricate, porcelain carafe framed with the light tan backdrop of my coat. Brewing the perfect hot beverage had always been my talent, but there was something particularly special about making the perfect cup of coffee.

I so desperately missed the smell, the taste. Grinding the beans, boiling the water to just the right temperature, and ensuring the golden ratio of water to coffee that brought that perfect balance of bold roast and light acidity. My mouth was already watering at the mental image.

Tender loved my coffee almost as much I did, but had sworn off it when we’d found out she was pregnant. She repeatedly said she’d have no issue with me drinking it, but that seemed so unfair to the mare who was so readily willing to carry our foal. So in solidarity with her, I’d followed suit. Tea was… almost as good. Besides, it was a lot cheaper and we needed every cap we could save.

An instinctive part of my brain twinged just as the water began to boil. I waited a few more moments, knowing innately the exact moment to remove it from the heat. The coffee pot shot into the air as the moment passed, and I swiftly filled each of our mugs. Instantly the water turned a pale brown as the tea began to steep. A mix of floral and earthy notes wafted up from the mugs and I inhaled daintily, savoring the scent. It might not have been coffee, but every hot beverage was tantalizing in its own unique way.

“Am I interrupting something?” a sultry, yet slightly mocking voice said from behind me.

I jumped, and instantly felt a searing pain splash across my muzzle. I yelped and quickly wiped away the scalding liquid. I hadn’t even noticed that I’d brought one of the mugs directly beneath my nose as I’d been smelling it.

After setting the mug down, I turned around and my vision was dominated by my wife. Her soft, ashen coat glimmered, even in the dim light of our boxcar. The tangles of her black and white mane cascaded down around her face, framing that gorgeous visage like a piece of fine art. Her forest green eyes contained nothing but adoration and warmth. Every bit of it was directed at me. There was concern in her eyes, but also a hoof in front of her mouth, doubtless hiding an amused smirk.

“Are… *snrk* are you okay, love?” Tender asked, stepping forward and investigating my rapidly reddening nose.

“If you were looking for a well done stallion, you might want to cook me a little more,” I said jokingly.

Tender leaned in close, sniffing softly, “Mmm, I think you smell delicious just as you are.” She batted her eyes seductively.

“Then how about you have a taste,” I responded in a breathy whisper as I leaned toward her in turn.

She giggled quietly just before our lips met. Forget every single thing I’ve mentioned about coffee, there wasn’t a roast on Equus that compared to this feeling.

All too quickly, Tender pulled back from the kiss, but offered the most loving stare in return. “Good morning, Espresso,” she whispered delicately.

“Good morning, Tender Soot,” I responded, then smacked my lips thoughtfully. “Hm, you’ll have to give Ladle my compliments. That really is an excellent stew.”

She giggled again. Goddess above, if her laugh was the last thing I ever heard in this life, then no amount of damnation would ever tear the smile from my face.

“What do you mean?” she asked quizzically. “You had some of it too didn't y-” she cut herself off and the smile disappeared. Instead, a look of frustration grew across her gorgeous face. My stomach sank as I realized that I’d just outed myself.

Tender took a shaky breath before continuing, “You didn’t eat again, did you?”

“O-of course I did,” I stuttered unconvincingly. “Ladle had some scrap barley left over from the stew and I had that. It was more than enough to fill me up so I figured you could have both of our serv-”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Tender snapped. “With how little food there is right now, Ladle isn’t even throwing away old corn husks much less perfectly edible barley! I won’t stand for you lying to me!”

I winced at the outburst, tearing my gaze from her and staring guiltily at the floor.

Tender took another deep breath before wrapping a foreleg around my neck and pulling me into a hug. “You can’t keep doing this, love,” she said calmly. “I know things are tight, but that’s no excuse for you to starve yourself.”

I nuzzled into the crook of her neck, “You remember what the doctor said, you need every scrap of food you can get right now. You’re eating for two, I can afford to miss a couple meals if it means I can feed you and our… um… our-”

“Our foal,” Tender finished. Her smile returned as she took hold of my hoof and pulled it back toward her stomach, holding it there.

“Yeah, our… foal,” I repeated, disbelief laden in my tone. The life Tender carried chose that moment to make themselves known, kicking softly beneath her coat. I almost pulled away, but the gentle strength in my wife’s grip kept me there, embracing the entirety of my family. “Wow,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” Tender said, “get used to saying it, knucklehead, we’re gonna be parents before you know it.”

“It still just feels so… surreal, you know,” I said, gazing longingly at her stomach.

“I know,” she said warmly, then pulled back and socked me on the shoulder.

“Ouch,” I said, reeling back more in surprise than in pain. “What was that for?”

Tender’s smile didn’t disappear, but there was a hardness in her gaze. Ironically, kind of like a mother that’d just caught her foal sneaking candy, “You can’t keep skipping meals. You think you’re doing it for my sake, but you’re going to be a father soon. What do you expect us to do if you keel over from starvation? How do you expect to survive the job today if you’re so hungry that you can’t think straight?” She turned away from me, and I could hear the hurt start to creep into her tone, “Now that I think about it, you’re in no shape to go gallivanting across the Wasteland. I’m going to go tell Trail Boss right now that you’re staying home, they can find somepony else to take your place and-”

I sighed, of course I should have known that this conversation was going to come up again. She’d use any excuse to keep me home today, but I couldn’t let that happen. I walked up behind Tender and hugged her, pulling her head against my chest. A subtle dampness started to spread across my coat as her silent tears dried in my fur.

“Sweetheart, we’ve talked about this,” I began, pulling her closer. “Even if you could work in your condition, that last raid tore up the track for miles, nopony knows how long it will be until the rail lines are repaired. There’s not much need for an engineer with no trains to run.” I lifted her chin, locking our gazes as I smiled, “And even less for some two-bit barista like me. We need food in the pantry, a roof that doesn’t leak, a crib, toys, diapers, Goddess-knows what else the little tyke will need, and enough caps to last us until we can start working again. I need to do this.”

Tender didn’t argue, just broke our gazes and turned away.

“Hey,” I said soothingly, taking hold of her chin and bringing her eyes back to meet mine. A small, white glow appeared beneath her eyes as I wiped away the tears. I planted a soft kiss on her forehead, “Everything is going to be fine, I promise.”

“Y-you can’t promise that,” she said shakily. “You know what they’re like. I just wish that we didn’t have to have anything to do with… them.” Tender spat the last word like it was made of venom.

“We’ve been trading with them for years,” I countered. “Their operation wouldn’t be nearly as big if we hadn’t been involved, so it’s not like we’re blameless. But they’re giving us a chance to keep the town moving until we’re all back on our hooves again. I don’t like what they do any more than you, but unless we want to abandon New Appleoosa, we don’t have another choice. You heard Trail Boss, everypony in the community has to do their part if we want to survive. Not much need for a barista, but I’ve got a working horn and can handle a gun. That’s all they need.”

“I know, I know,” Tender said despondently. “It’s the smart thing to do, but we’re talking about selling ponies! How could we have ever agreed to this? Don’t we have any compassion for them?”

“All we’re doing is taking them to Fillydelphia, dropping them off, and coming right back. That’s all,” I tried to reassure her. “And yes, I feel for them,” I gently rubbed my hoof along her cheek, “but I’m more worried about my family starving. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

She fell quiet again, but nodded her head in reserved acquiescence.

“Ok,” I said, giving her one last hug before stepping back and offering her one of the steaming mugs. “Now come on, drink up before it gets cold. You know how much I hate that.”

Tender wiped her eyes and took the mug, settling down beside me as I started sipping at my own. “You know I’m going to nail your tail to the floor before I let you out that door without breakfast, right?”

“Yes, love,” I said, leaning my head to the side and resting my cheek against hers. “Whatever you say.”

The rain hadn’t let up much by the time we were done with breakfast, a modest portion of stale biscuits, but with the added indulgent of some apple preserves. The last scrapings of a jar we weren’t likely to see more of for some time, but Tender had insisted I have the taste of home on my tongue before we left. A little extra motivation to make it back safe and sound.

I suited up in the old canvas barding I’d worn when Tender and I had been on the road, before we found New Appleoosa and been accepted into the community. My trusty .357 revolver dangled in a holster on my hip. I’d thought so naively that I’d never need to take up the burden of a firearm every again. Up until recently, the few guards that would volunteer, and our resident pegasus defender, had been more than enough to keep the town safe.

I’d been able to concentrate on setting up a little cafe, just like I’d always wanted. Tender was overjoyed to find a working rail line, even if it was primarily for delivering supplies to an outpost of slavers. At long last it seemed like we could put the horrors of the wasteland behind us, and we could finally focus on the talents that made us who we are.

As if any happiness were more than just a fleeting whimsy on the radioactive winds.

We descended the staircase leading down from our boxcar, a large, rusting orange shipping container stacked atop another blue one below. Tender batted away my hoof when I tried to offer some support, although the look on her face let me know she was… mostly joking. Despite being in the final months of her pregnancy, Tender refused to show any sign of helplessness. Even when she was waddling precariously down the ramshackle steps.

After arriving at the ground floor, I couldn’t help but look at the boxcar sitting beneath our home. It didn’t look terribly special, aside from some simple lettering painted on the side.

Rail Line Roasters.

I smiled wistfully at my cafe, trying desperately to mask the sorrow that steeped in my heart. I could almost hear the sounds of the percolators and smell the smoky, sweet scent of the fresh ground coffee beans. My thoughts swirled into memories of serving the citizens of Appleoosa, knowing the only thing that pulled them from the comfort of their beds was the promise of a hot, gourmet cup of coffee. It was my greatest source of pride, knowing that my talent kickstarted the day for our entire community.

Tender’s hoof on my shoulder broke me free from the bittersweet reverie. I turned toward her, only now noticing the subtle burning at the corners of my eyes.

She smiled so sweetly up at me, “We’ll have it open again soon. This is just a bump in the road.”

“Yeah,” I agreed quietly, though not as confidently as I would have liked. I wiped a foreleg across my eyes as we turned away from our home and started heading toward the center of town.

A few dozen ponies had already begun to gather, with only a soft murmuring breaking the silence. It almost seemed like everypony was trying their hardest not to disturb the quiet of the morning. Maybe they felt if we didn’t mention what we were all about to be party to, then maybe it would be like it never really happened.

There were a few notable absences from the gathering. Crane and most of the rail line workers weren’t there, more than likely having set out before first light to work on the torn up tracks. The ghoul mare that ran the general store, Ditzy Doo, was absent as well. As far as anypony was aware, no one had told her about what we were planning today. However, she was definitely a lot more clever than most gave her credit for and had likely figured it out for herself. Nopony had seen hide nor hair of her ever since.

Although, Ditzy had left a basket full of healing potions and RadAway. Even tied a bow around it and left a note that said, ‘Stay saf, friends.’ She still cared, but obviously couldn’t stand to be around the town today. I had to admit, that made me feel significantly worse than if she’d just ripped into us for what we were about to do.

The final absentee was the town’s resident pegasus.

A hush fell over the crowd as a stallion stood up on a crate in their midst. He was an older earth pony, though not quite what I’d describe as elderly. His coat was jet black and he had deep green mane, cut short and starting to gray. He was wearing a rusting set of metal armor and a tattered cowpony hat. The strap of an old lever-action rifle was slung around his neck.

Trail Boss cleared his throat, “Alright now, everypony. This ain’t the kind of day where I’m gonna be makin’ a fanciful and insprin’ speech. We all know why we’re here and what we’re gonna do. But it’s good to bear in mind that we ain’t doin’ this for wealth or some ill repute fame. It’s about our survival, that’s all. We need to provide for our families, for our friends. To make sure New Appleoosa sees another tomorrow. What we do today ain’t gonna be pretty, but it’s the only option we all got left. So let’s head out and-”

“Bullshit,” a voice shouted from behind us.

In unison, the entire crowd turned their heads. Seated upon a stack a three box cars was a silhouette hidden in the downpour. The figure took one long leap as a pair of wings sprung out from its sides. They landed lightly on the ground right beside the crowd.

Their head was tilted downward, allowing the falling rain to drip down the brim of their black cowpony hat. The pony’s stance recalled a mousetrap, deadly and ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. The brown, pegasus stallion lifted his head and glared directly at Trail Boss.

“Calamity,” Trail Boss said in an unsurprised monotone, almost as if he’d been expecting this. “I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about accompanying us to-”

“You know I haven’t,” Calamity growled angrily. “I’m here to try and talk some sense into y’all one last time.”

“Well you can save it,” Trail Boss responded boredly. “We’ve discussed this ad nauseam, and everypony here is still in agreement. We’re doin’ this, whether you’re by our side or not.”

“Then y’all are no better than slavers yourselves,” Calamity spat with disgust.

“We’ve been tradin’ with ‘em for years. They’re still in business because of us,” Trail Boss countered. “Today we’re just… helpin’ ‘em out a lil’ more directly.”

“T’ain’t the same and you know it,” Calamity snapped, breaking his glare and looking pleadingly at the rest of us.

“Y’all know me, and I thought I knew y’all. It don’t matter how bad things get, this is wrong and we all know it,” he pleaded. “Please, don’t do this. We’ll find another way.”

Nopony met his gaze. A few guiltily scraped a hoof against the ground, but not one member of the crowd said a word to Calamity. The righteous indignation that had illuminated the stallion in an almost visible light was snuffed out by the darkness in our indifference. Not a single one of us could measure up to his principles and we all knew why.

Principles got ponies killed. Selfishness kept us alive.

“Come on y’all,” Trail Boss said, his tone turning morose. “We got a schedule to keep.”

With that, about a dozen members of the crowd started moving toward a gap in the ring of boxcars around town.

I turned toward Tender, noting she too was pointedly looking away from Calamity. I nudged her shoulder, prompting her to look at me.

“I love you,” I said quietly before leaning in to give her a kiss.

She returned it briefly before stepping back. “A-are you sure about this?”

“No,” I answered honestly. “But what other choice do we have?”

Tender nodded her head solemnly before throwing her forelegs around my neck and squeezing with all of her might. So much so that I had to suppress a gasp as she constricted my windpipe.

“Just come back to me, ok?” she whispered shakily.

“I’ll come back,” I answered, returning the hug. “I promise.”

After at least a full minute, I reluctantly broke the hug and started to follow the rest of the group. I passed by Calamity, who still stood exactly where he’d landed. Though now he stared dejectedly at the ground.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

“You got yourself a foal on the way,” the pegasus said gruffly. “So I understand why you’re doin’ this more than most of ‘em. But do you ever stop to think if you’ll be able to look that li’l one in the eye after this? What if they figure out what you did?”

I paused a moment, considering that before answering, “I guess I’d rather my kid looked at me with disgust then not be able to look at me at all.”

Calamity nodded before springing into the air and flying off. I watched him go, my heart feeling heavier as he went. Almost like I was watching my own morality disappear into that gray, roiling sky.

The slavers of Old Appleoosa met us a few miles outside of town. There were six of them, all sporting sets of wicked-looking armor and armed to the teeth. Yet they all bore such uninterested expressions. Like they were idly waiting for a train instead of handing off enslaved members of their own kind. It was so… eerie. I’d almost feel better if they were a bunch of cackling, moustache-twirling villains. If they showed even the barest hint of knowing that what they did with their lives was wrong. Instead, they may as well have been farmers coming to town to sell off their harvests.

In a way, I guess they were.

“Trail Boss?” a mare at the front of the group asked. She was wearing a set of metal armor with spikes jutting out of the pauldrons and had an oddly modern-looking machinegun dangling lazily at her side.

“That’s right,” Trail Boss responded. “And I suppose that makes you-”

“Chain Choker,” she interrupted, “but you can call me Choke.”

“Charmed,” Trail Boss said reticently.

“Just a reminder about what happens to those that cross me,” Choke said matter-of-factly. “Now that pleasantries are out of the way, let’s get down to business.”

Without waiting for a response, she motioned over her shoulder and four of her companions disappeared behind a nearby rock. After a few seconds, they re-emerged pulling two wagons behind them. Atop the wagons were caged enclosures filled to the brim with ponies.

I’d been trying to prepare myself for this moment, but there wasn’t a single thing horrid enough to draw from my imagination that could brace me for this sight. There was hardly room enough for them to all stand with how tightly packed they were. Their coats were all plastered in filth and a myriad of lashes, showcasing why not a single one dared try and make eye contact with us or their captors. There was also something… strange about the bunch. Beyond the fact that they were slaves, there was another factor that united them all. Something I couldn’t quite put my hoof on.

There was an occasional cough or murmur of pain, but aside from that the slaves made almost no noise. The moment of shock the wagons imbued into our group was the most deafening silence I’d ever experienced.

“Welp,” Chain Choker continued, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. “Here they are. Them folks up in Fillydelphia are expectin’ this shipment in five days, and I heartily recommend not makin’ ‘em wait. That leader of theirs is a might ornery. There’s twenty-six of ‘em in there, and they’ll be expectin’ at least twenty-five. Gotta account for… incidents y’all might face on the road. Still, means y’all only got one spare so try to not be too careless. They’ll each need a scoop of grain and a ladle of water in the mornin’ and at night. That should be enough to keep ‘em alive. They’ll try and moan at ya for more, but just smack a couple of ‘em around a bit and they’ll shut right up.”

Nopony responded to the instructions, just had their gazes locked onto the wagons or stared despondently at the ground.

Chain Choker cleared her throat, “Any questions?”

“N-no,” Trail Boss stuttered, moving toward the group. “I-I think we can handle it.”

“Brilliant,” Chain Choker said sarcastically. “Now as soon as y’all get paid, get your sorry asses right back here. We’ll let you keep your delivery fee, more than enough to keep your lil town goin’ a couple more months, and then we’ll all happily part ways.”

Just as Trail Boss reached the group, Chain Choker struck out with sweeping kick, tumbling the older stallion to the dirt. Before he or any of us could react, Choker whipped her machinegun around and had the barrel shoved directly into Trail Boss’s mouth. Throughout the entire attack, her demeanor didn’t change at all. Just held that same bored, flat expression.

“And if any of y’all get any funny ideas about screwin’ us after giving you this incredibly charitable opportunity, then just remember…” she removed the barrel from Trail Boss’s mouth and fired right next to his head. A plume of dust launched into the air, and the crack of the gunshot echoed in a haunting wail. Choke held our gazes until the final ebbs of the echo faded into the distance. “Your precious lil town and all your loved ones ain’t nothin’ but a day’s ride away. Hear me?”

We said nothing, but nodded our heads in understanding.

“Nice to see we’re all on the same page,” Choker said, offering a hoof to help Trail Boss back up. “Now y’all better hurry up, you’re burnin’ daylight.”

“What’s on your mind,” Trail Boss asked me, breaking the numbing silence.

The group had been quiet for a while. In fact, not many words had been shared at all in the last three days. Ever since we’d parted ways with the slavers, everypony had seemed fairly willing to just let the silence rule over us. It wasn’t like we could just ignore what was happening and talk about something superficial, but talking about it would open a wound that none of us seemed quite ready to start treating yet. Better to just let it fester for now. The first day had been… rough to say the least.

“Does it matter?” I asked, keeping my gaze locked ahead. Trail Boss and I were at the front of the wagon train, another four of us were pulling the wagons, and the rest were fanned out behind us.

“Yes it does,” Trail Boss responded. “Y’all asked me to lead this caravan, and part of that is lookin’ after the well-bein’ of those in my charge.”

“All of us?” I asked, pointedly glancing back at the huddled masses in the cages.

“Yes,” Trail Boss said simply. “Cargo included.”

“Is that all they are to us now, cargo?” I continued, needling my point through the questions.

“For all intents and purposes, yes,” the older stallion answered. “We all agreed that-”

“Agreeing to the necessity of an act doesn’t make it any less immoral,” I snapped angrily, though immediately regretted it. Nopony had lied to me or put a gun to my head to force me along with this. I was just as free to stay home and have no part in transporting slaves. Lashing out at Trail Boss for the disgust I felt toward myself was the height of hypocrisy, and it wouldn’t help anything, wouldn’t change anything.

“That’s true,” Trail Boss said, keeping his voice calm and level in the face of my anger. “I ain’t gonna pretend like what we’re doin’ is some great moral achievement. We ain’t makin’ the world a better place, just makin’ the lives of everypony in our community that much better. Lettin’ them survive another month.” Trail Boss paused for a moment, looking off into the distance at mounds of sand, fields of cacti, and the towering mesas of the desert. “We all like to pretend that, just ‘cause we have our li’l township, that we’re somehow better than those we like to deem ‘evil.’ But if you think about it, we’re really not all that different. We’ll fight, even kill, anypony that threatens our way of life. How is that any different than a raider that does the same to anypony that invades their territory?”

I turned toward Trail Boss, disbelief coloring my tone, “Raiders… enjoy what they do. They’ll mow down a horde of innocent ponies with a smile on their face. They paint their homes in the blood of their victims, and put their skulls on the mantle. They’re… demented. When we kill, at least we have the presence of mind to do it for the right reasons and not… glorify it. It’s necessary.”

“So that’s what makes us different?” Trail Boss asked. “We feel bad about the ponies we kill so we can justify it to ourselves.” He chuckled darkly, shaking his head, “Dead is dead, my friend. Doubt the motivations of the shooter makes much of a difference to the one takin’ the bullet.”

“We fight to protect and provide for our families, our friends,” I countered angrily.

“So do the raiders, so do the slavers,” Trail Boss said. “They do what they do, whether it’s kill, rob, kidnap, or enslave, to make sure their friends and neighbors have what they need to survive. The whys and hows, they’re all just set dressing. End of the day? A raider will kill you for the clothes on your back. We’ll kill to keep the clothes on our back. They kill, we kill. It’s all survival.”

He glanced back at the wagon, “And I don’t know about you, but this sense of morality we all so desperately hold onto seems to be a major disadvantage for us. Those who would do us harm always have the upper-hoof, because we’re too scared to lower ourselves into the same abyss they thrive in.” Trail Boss stopped a moment, looking directly at me until I met his gaze. There was a life of conviction hidden in those old eyes, but also a lifetime of loss and the cold, unfeeling shell he’d grown in order to live with it. There was an unyielding drive to protect what he had and those he cared for, consequences be damned.

“I will provide for my people, Espresso. I’ve killed for them, what’s so different about slaving for them?”

“Why even lie to ourselves then? Why not just start raiding and slaving ourselves? Turn New Appleoosa into another rat-infested raider den?” I asked. Despite my objections, I had to admit he had a point. It made every inch of my skin crawl, but there was logic in what he said.

Trail Boss shrugged, “Everypony seems pretty happy to me, to keep livin’ the way we have been. Tryin' to keep up the lie that some of the old world’s rules still apply. I’m happy to let 'em keep that illusion alive. To let 'em keep their hooves clean while I do the dirty work.” He continued walking, breaking our gazes. “How about you? You gonna provide for your wife and child? Or are you gonna let your morals starve them to death?”

“I…” I faltered, trying to find the words.

Trail Boss sighed, “It’s ok, you don’t need to say it.” He looked back toward me, smiling now with understanding eyes, “It’s the li’l lies we tell ourselves that makes this world tolerable.”

I smiled back, but the pit in my stomach only grew deeper. I felt sick, but… oddly more resolute. I didn’t agree with everything the older stallion had said, but at least now I was reminded again of just why I was out here.

Suddenly Trail Boss stopped again, raising a hoof in a gesture to signal the caravan to stop. Everypony followed the order, looking around nervously.

A unicorn mare pulling the wagons gulped, “Wh-what’ya hear Trai-”

She was cut off as her head jerked violently. A spray of red splattered across the trapped slaves behind her as a gunshot cracked in the distance. She swayed for a moment, the look of fear on her face morphing into confusion, before her eyes rolled up and her body crumpled to the ground.

Trail Boss was the first to come back to his senses. “RAIDERS!” he screamed. “TAKE COVER NOW!”

The silence that had plagued our journey so quickly shattered in the wake of this tide of violence. Somewhere in the sand dunes, a machine gun opened fire, raking across our line. Luckily, Trail Boss’s order had come just quickly enough for our remaining numbers to hit the dirt and escape the barrage.

I pulled out the revolver on my hip, my eyes scanning the surrounding area and trying to get a sight on our attackers. There was some movement around the bend of the mesa to our right, just before another rifle shot cracked through the air. The dirt not a foot away from my head kicked up in a blinding cloud. I heaved off the ground and tumbled away from the path, finding a narrow ditch running parallel to it. Once I was reasonably sure that I wasn't immediately in somepony’s crosshairs, I tried to take stock of our situation.

The others had all either followed suit with me and were taking cover in the ditch, or had ducked beneath the wagons and hid behind the wheels. Trail Boss was with the latter, his rifle now unslung and returning fire toward the machine-gunner off in the desert. Another salvo of fire answered the older stallion, forcing him behind the wagon’s wheels. A stallion hiding alongside him cried out, clutching his leg as a stray bullet caught him.

I turned my attention back toward the sniper, trying to catch another sight of them. With the lot of us now out of their field of view, they’d have to reposition if they wanted to keep us pinned down. A bit of motion caught my eye, and I instinctively fired in the direction. It was a ways off, and my little .357 didn’t quite have the range for any sort of guarantee. Still, it was enough to give the sniper pause and duck back behind the rocky crags.

I nudged the mare beside me, a purple earthpony that I vaguely recalled visiting the cafe on her way to work. I couldn’t quite remember what she did in town, though from the look of utter terror on her face I think it was safe to assume she wasn’t a guard.

“Hey,” I said, nudging her again until she snapped her face toward me. “We gotta take out that sniper or they’ll keep us pinned until-”

“Oh Goddess,” she cried, the beginning of tears forming along her eyes. “I can’t do this, I can’t do this, please… somepony stop this- I can’t- this is so- so- I-”

She kept babbling falling into an incoherent mess. Dammit, I needed some support here. The other two in the ditch were in similar states of distress. It wasn’t like I was some badass soldier or anything either, but Tender and I had grown up wandering the wastes. We’d had to fight off our fair share of raiders before arriving in New Appleoosa. I forgot sometimes that not everypony had been… ‘blessed’ with that kind of upbringing.

I grabbed her shoulder and shook her. “What’s your name,” I tried to ask comfortingly.

“P-P-Posie,” she stuttered.

“Posie, if you do not help me right now, we are going to die. We will never make it home and you’ll never see your family again. Do you understand?” She continued to shake, but the look in her eyes lost a bit of mania and she nodded.

“Good,” I continued. I noted her weapon, a short, small-caliber rifle that would hardly tickle a gecko. But all she needed was something to go bang. I lined the rifle up in the general direction of the sniper, “Now shoot over there. After each shot, wait five seconds, then shoot again. Got it?”

Another nod.

“Ok, get ready,” I said, then turned back toward the others. Trail Boss and the ponies with him were doing an admirable job of keeping the machine-gunner pinned. Still, I waited for him to return fire one last time.

I whipped back toward the mare, “Now! Start firing!”

She answered with her first shot, chipping the rocks right where I’d pointed her. Then I jumped out of the ditch and sprinted toward the sniper. I counted down, five, four, three, two… I dropped just as another of the mare’s shots flew overhead, then I was back on my hooves and sprinting again. I kept up the cycle all the way until I reached the hiding spot, then leapt over the rocky outcropping.

I heard a small yelp of panic as the dark-armored mare hidden there saw me sail overhead. She tried to turn the long rifle to bear against me, but I’d caught her unaware and drew first, fanning the revolver’s hammer and firing off a trio of shots that slammed into her chest. Not great at a distance, but at this range the heavy rounds slammed into the mare and sprayed out the other side, painting the red rock in a far deeper shade.

The raider screamed in pain, causing a head out in the dunes to poke out in surprise. Trail Boss and the others didn’t waste the opportunity and opened up on the exposed raider, damn near cleaving his head off with a hail of gunfire.

Just like that, the desert fell silent once again.

I wiped the sweat from my brow, breathing heavily from the exertion. I fell back on the ground, my eyes glued to the writhing mare on the ground before me. It’d been a while since I’d had to shoot somepony, it wasn’t something that you ever really got used to. Even less so when the pony you shot was still alive afterwards, and then you had to decide what to do with them.

I sighed, standing back up and walking toward the fallen raider. She was dressed in a simple set of… surprisingly clean combat armor and a helmet with a full tactical face mask. Raiders usually liked the intimidation factor that came along with a lot of extraneous spikes and random spray paint and… and-

Oh Goddess.

“Hey,” I called, forcing her attention onto me. “Where’s the rest of you?”

“R-rest?” she asked, confusion underlying the pain in her tone.

“Yes, the rest of you,” I said quickly, trying to keep the panic out of tone. “Where’s the rest of your raiding party. You ponies never go after a target unless you’ve got the numbers to back it up. Now where’s the rest?”

“R-raiding? O-oh,” she said in realization. “I-I see.” She reached a shaky hoof up and unlatched the helmet, letting it fall. It revealed a pale pink face, her eyes squinting in pain as she looked up at me. “I-is that h-how you justify it? P-pretend that anypony th-that’d come… *cough* come after you just w-wants your slaves?” She grinned, and I saw red dripping from her teeth. “W-well not today, you sl-slaving sc- scumbag. W-we were… were here to… s-save… s-save”

Instead of finishing, she reached up and pulled out a medallion hung around her neck, tossing it weakly at my hooves. It showed a set of iron shackles with a bolt of lightning breaking them apart. My eyes grew wide with horror.

“Th-that’s right,” she mumbled, her speech getting weaker. “Y-you bastards… remember that… ‘cause one day… w-we’ll f-finally wipe you… ou-” She stopped, her hooves dropping to the dirt as she died.

I walked numbly back to the others, my mind racing with what I’d just learned. Trail Boss met me, an enormous grin plastered across his face.

“That was some damn fine tactics, my friend,” he said, laughing as he slapped my back. “For a second there, I thought we were done for.”

Posie, the mare I’d instructed before, approached. She looked up at me, mumbling as she tried to say something. A sob escaped her instead, just before she threw her forelegs around my neck and squeezed. She held me like that for a moment, then withdrew and walked away.

“Y-yeah,” I said weakly. Should I tell them who those ponies were? Was it the right thing to do? Would it make a difference?

“Well, unfortunately we’re blessed with precious little time to celebrate. We’ll need to… to get Ivy over there loaded up on one of the wagons,” he looked toward the mare that’d first been shot. “Her family deserves to bury her themselves. Then we’ve gotta patch up our wounded and get these wagons moving before-”

“Trail Boss!” One of the stallions who’d been hauling the wagons called out. “We’ve got a little bit of a problem here.

“Oh what is it now,” he answered, sauntering toward the wagons. The stallion who’d called out was behind them, his eyes wide with worry as he looked inside the enclosures. As we turned the corner around the cart, my stomach dropped as I saw a steady stream of red pouring out of the back of the cart. We all fell silent as we stared inside. Two slaves, an older mare clutching a younger one as if to shield her, were peppered with machine gun fire. They lie in each other’s embrace on the wagon floor, the crowd around them staring in dumbfounded silence. It was a miracle none of the others had been hit, but the two that had been were most assuredly dead.

Once again, just like the day we’d first taken the slave wagons, I was struck by an odd feeling. Some uniting factor that all slaves shared. Why couldn’t I put my hoof on it?

“Goddess-dammit,” Trail Boss swore, whipping his hat off and slamming it on the ground. “So close, we were so damned close!”

“Th-the slavers said w-we only had one spare,” a mare said. “Wh-what’re they gonna do to us if we don’t deliver. What’re we gonna do now?!”

A general buzz of fear and uncertainty pervaded the surviving Appleoosans. Murmurs of abandoning the job and running or trying to find a replacement were prevalent until…

“Shut it, all of you!” Trail Boss snapped, quieting the nervous ponies. “We keep movin' just like we have been. Nothin’s changed on that front. I will figure out a plan for dealin' with Fillydelphia before we get there, I swear to you.”

That seemed to quiet them, although they seemed less than reassured. We set about cleaning up, picking up the dead Appleoosan and loading her in the cargo below a wagon as best we could. The dead slaves received… less gentle treatment as we dumped them on the side of the road. The other’s patched themselves up with potions and bandages and, within the hour, we were moving again.

Trail Boss and I took the lead once more and I watched the elder stallion closely.

“So, what’re you thinking oh abandoner of morality,” I jibed coldly. “How’re we gonna make this up to the slavers?”

He looked back at me, that same cold conviction from earlier still radiating from his gaze. “Oh we have options, my friend. Some you and this lot might be too blinded by your illusions of civility and morality to consider.”

Trail Boss fell silent at that, locking his eyes on the horizon as we continued forward.

I’ve seen some pretty scary places in my time. Abandoned Stables we thought could make a decent home, only to turn out to be host to some mutated abominations that may or may not have been purposefully created. Ghost towns filled with feral ghouls looking to munch on anything remotely living. Even kindly little townships that turned out to be harboring some… uncouth methods of food production.

All of that paled in comparison to Fillydelphia.

Who would have thought that a theme park could be made into a terrifying, fire spewing fortress of slavery? And yet here it was.

We were obviously expected if the contingent of armed guards at the gate were any indication. There were dozens of them, more than we could ever hope to fight if things turned violent. In the dead center of the line was a single, deep-red earthpony flanked on either side by an alicorn.

Our caravan stopped dead in its tracks as the inequine monsters came into view. Gasps arose from several of us, as well as portion of the slaves. We’d only heard stories of these creatures, and every one of them seemed to end with some colloquial admonition of steering clear of them. There were only two, one a sickly green and the other a vivid purple. Their stares were locked straight ahead and it almost seemed as if they were looking at nothing… or maybe everything. It was unnerving to say the least.

As we arrived, the red stallion stepped forward. He was dressed in a dirty, blue cape that looked to cut have been cut from some kind of outfit. His mane was a jet-black, and the expression he wore portrayed a demeanor of professionalism and… something dark. It was hard to get a read on the pony, which wasn’t helped much by the absence of his right eye. In its place a gleaming red cybernetic prosthetic was affixed, making it seem like the pony was looking through us.

“Just in time,” the stallion said simply. “That’s good. I do believe that keeping one’s appointments is imperative towards a positive first impression.”

“Agreed,” Trail Boss responded. “However the journey has been trying on us so, if it’s all the same to you, we’d like to conclude this as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” the stallion said. “Let’s discuss the fine details so you and your people may be on your way, Trail Boss.”

That gave Trail Boss pause, “Y-you know my name?”

“I know what is in my best interests to know,” he responded simply, yet malevolently. Like he was issuing a threat without actually using a single threatening word. “You may call me Red-Eye.”

“O-of course, Mr. Red-Eye,” Trail Boss stuttered as he approached. “Let’s talk business.”

The pair then fell behind the line of armed slavers and alicorns, leaving the rest of us to look on in morbid curiosity. Trail Boss hadn’t shared anything about his plan to replace the missing slave, but over the last two days he’d seemed to grow more certain. Obviously he’d decided on something, but also felt it wasn’t in our best interests to say exactly what that was. The two looked back at us for a brief moment, then nodded and shook hooves. The pair approached us again.

“I understand you all met some trouble on the road,” Red-Eye began. “My… business partner is very much expecting the agreed-upon amount, so merely providing less payment is not an option. However, your leader and I have come to an accord.”

That didn’t exactly waylay our concerns. In fact, the vagueness in the answer seemed to have the opposite effect.

“So what exactly is this deal,” I said when it was obvious nopony else was willing.

Red-Eye shifted his gaze toward me, that cybernetic eye almost seeming to pierce through my very thoughts. A disconcerting grin spread across his face, “I am quite pleased that you asked.”

He waved a hoof and the surrounding guards began to move. A contingent moved toward the wagons, pushing back the Appleoosans as they did. About ten others started walking… toward…

“Wh-what is this?” I stuttered, backing away from the approaching slavers.

“I’m afraid my associate is in desperate need of new followers, unicorns specifically,” Red-Eye said bluntly.

My eyes darted around and came to rest on the slave wagons. That nagging feeling, that sense uniting factor that all the slaves shared that I just couldn’t think of. Only now did I realize that every single slave trapped inside the wagons were unicorns. It also occurred to me that the only unicorns that had been a part of the caravan were myself and that mare that had been shot during the attack.

I looked pleadingly toward Trail Boss. “What are you doing?!” I screamed, a cold, lancing bolt of fear striking my heart. My eyes grew wide and I started to hyperventilate. This couldn’t be happening.

“Sorry, kid,” Trail Boss said morosely. “I’d have given ‘em myself if they’d have me. But it’s for the good of the town.”

“You can’t do this!” I cried.

“No!” a mare in the caravan shrieked. It was Posie, the same one I’d instructed during the attack. “Trail Boss, you bastard!” She tried to run forward, but the butt of a slaver’s rifle bashed into her face, breaking her nose and dropping her to the dirt. The others all looked on in horror, but everypony could see how futile objecting would be.

“It’s gotta be done, y’all. We didn’t come all this way to turn back with nothin’,” Trail Boss said, then looked back at me. “I’ll… make sure Tender and the lil’ one are taken care of, I promise.”

“You stay the hell away from them back-stabbing piece of-” I started, but was cut off by another slaver slamming their rifle into the side of my head. My temple exploded in pain and I heard a disconcerting crack. A chilling numbness fell across my skull as I felt myself fall to the ground. The edges of my vision began to darken.

“Well,” the echoey voice of Red-Eye said, “I do believe our business is now concluded.” He turned away as the Appleoosans were forced back at gunpoint, barely being given enough time to pick up Posie.

Red-Eye turned toward the alicorn, “Let the Goddess know you’re on your way.”

“We already know,” the two answered simultaneously in a creepy monotone. “These are fine specimens for Unity.”

“Just make sure the next crop of alicorns arrives soon,” he said. My vision finally began to fade as the pair of alicorns began to approach.

“Somepony help!” a stallion shrieked.

“You can’t do this to us!” a mare called immediately after.

“This can’t be real, this is a nightmare. PLEASE SOMEPONY, ANYPONY!” another screamed.

I started to come back to my senses. My eyes blearily opened, dried blood flaking off my eyelids. My vision was blurry, but it soon began to clear. I was laying on the floor of a cage, and for a moment I thought it was inside of the wagons. It soon became that this was one was far larger. I tried to lift my head, but a searing pain kept me on the ground. Oh yeah, cracked skull.

Steeling myself, I pushed off the ground and through the torment of the concussion. Although the terror in my heart demanded I stay ignorant, I looked around my new surroundings. All the slaves we’d transported were in a large circular cage. The room around us was some dingy, pre-war facility. There wasn’t any light, save for a dim spectrum illuminating us from beneath.

Shakily, I turned my gaze downward. Below us was an enormous, roiling vat of rainbow liquid. Each color of the spectrum were lined up along each other just like the arches of refracted light, completely going against how a liquid should behave. That was all we could see.

“Oh Goddess,” I whispered. “Please, help me.”

SWEET, NAIVE LITTLE CHILD. THE GREAT AND POWERFUL GODDESS IS ALREADY HERE, a booming voice answered. The panicking slaves were all immediately hushed.

An enormous, purple, spectral face rose up out of the vat. Its features were pony-like, but… wrong. Disfigured. Just beneath the creature’s… skin looked to be dozens of ponies trapped within. The face rose until it was level with the cage and it beamed a smile at us.

WELCOME, MY CHILDREN. THE GREAT AND POWERFUL GODDESS IS SO PLEASED TO WELCOME YOU ALL TO UNITY.

Despite my horrors at the abomination before me, I knew this was my only chance. “Please,” I begged loudly, pressing my face against the bars. “Please let us go. I-I-” tears started to sting at the corner of my eyes as my will began to shatter. “I-I have a wife. Sh-she’s pregnant. I need to- I… I promised.” I collapsed back to the cage floor, despair overrunning my reason. “Please, let me go home to her.”

OH MY DEAR CHILD, the head answered. YOU WILL SOON SEE THAT YOUR EARTHLY DESIRES PALE IN COMPARISON TO WHAT WE SHALL ACCOMPLISH THROUGH THE POWER OF UNITY. YOU ARE ABOUT TO BE A PART OF SOMETHING GREAT AND POWERFUL, A MOVEMENT THAT WILL BRING PEACE TO THE WASTELAND. She approached the bars, almost pressing her ethereal skin against them. We were all given a crystal-clear look at the agonized faces of ponies just beneath this terror’s skin. BUT DO NOT DESPAIR, UNITY SHALL PROVIDE MORE FOR YOUR FAMILY THAN YOU EVER COULD.

The floor of the cage dropped beneath us, and a chorus of damned screams plunged into the vat below. My skin instantly felt as if it were starting to sear off. I tried to shriek, but my lungs filled with the toxin as I was submerged. The rainbow of light became all I could see, all I knew. My body was melting and becoming one with this demon.

“Tender,” I whispered as the surface shrank away into the distance.

“I… love… -”

I… no… I makes us… remember. We are… we… we are…

We awoke. My… no… our mind felt… sluggish. That… dream. We hate that dream. Our sisters were close, but the Goddess… where was she? Why had she abandoned me… no… us. Abandoned… us. To this… pink. The pink… hurts me… NO! US! The pink hurts US!

We stood, hearing the others converse close by. We walked across the tile floor. This place… what was this place? I… no… we knew… once… when we arrived… it was… police? Police station… that was it. Keeping the striped ones… can’t let them go… that was the order that I… NO… that we were given.

We approached the others. We were three now… were we always? Not… sure. They… we…? Not… sure anymore. For so long… certain… didn’t need to… think… Unity knew all… but now…? Are they… they? Or… we? Together? Apart? We don’t like to think about it… we don’t like to remember.

“We have enough striped ponies, right?” one of us asked. “We have…” she struck her hoof on the ground eight times. “That many.”

“No, we have this many,” said the second, stomping the ground seven times. “The scrawny one died when they went through the pink below, remember?”

“All the striped ones are scrawny,” the first responded. “Let us just take those we have and leave this Goddess-forsaken place.”

Yes… I… no… we… must get… away… must not… remember.

“We hate it here,” I… yes… I. I am… an I. An… individual… but I don’t want to be… can’t be… please… Goddess. “This Goddess-forsaken place makes us remember things.”

Remember… no… don’t remember. Remembering… hurts… but I… yes I MUST… REMEMBER!

“Last night, I remembered I used to be a buck.”

Author's Note

By storm128

D is for Desecrated, no life left

A white mare with a black mane and red streaks sat inside a large metallic stadium. Her metal appendages were ripped off. Broken wires shot out from the small amount of machinery attached to her flesh. Her body was covered with cuts all around. She vomited a bit as she lay in the grass without any ability to move. A green stallion climbed over from behind a chair above the stadium. He urinated and trickled it down on the mare's face. She cried with tears that had mixed with the piss.

“How, how could I lose to you!?” she said. “I’m a savior of Equestria, how!?”.

The stallion leaped from atop the stadium he pissed from. He bent down, groaned, and pushed a massive poop log that was served on her head.

“How how how, how could you kill everypony, even burn down our haven!?” she screamed.

The stallion peered into her eyes, the scent of poop disgusted him.

“Fuck you” he said.

The stallion then grabbed her jaw. She moved her head away, but his strength could not be turned away from. With one motion, the skin on her face began to rip apart. A lot of blood dripped out from her mouth as her jaw dislocated. Her lower jaw collapsed under his pressure. It separated from her face and a puddle of blood sat below her. She squirmed, but then laid still.

The stallion smiled and tore off the leftover skin on the jaw. There was nothing but white bone and teeth, with blood smeared on its surface. He put the jaw bone on his head and giggled like he was a pretty princess. The puddle enlarged with the trickle of blood from her face.

The stallion then went his way out of the derelict football stadium. He hummed Ave Maria as he strutted away. The sun-bleached any life that would exist. No matter what you are, death will follow you in the end. This he pondered as he went. The bone tiara on his head shook as trotted. He turned his head and dropped the tiara. It sat alone in the sand where no pony would ever care.

A giant flame could be seen off the distance to where a large settlement was. Buzzards that flew above feasted on the corpse. Their hunger would not be dispelled. They bite and chew on her body like no tomorrow. In a few seconds, she was a bundle of bones. Her mane and tail were so bright with color to the life that had been.

No pony knew who the stallion was. He came suddenly and without remorse. Heads plopped off without any ability to pause. Their brains slapped the ground into squished pieces of flesh. Guns fired at the merciless monster's destruction. Their bullets could not harm him, nor could they pierce flesh. All the way, ponies died in droves. Their stomachs cleaved in half, their eyes squished into a gooey paste. It continued until a standoff between two. She shot at him and used whatever she could. Her robotic limbs were used to tenderize her own self. She struggled with all her might. He just laughed and gave a single strike. Her spine collapsed, it jellied into a soup. Her brain could not compute.

Author's Note

Made by BleedingSequine

E is for Entropy for the center doesn’t hold you see…

“Welcomzzztt tooooooo Kkrrrzzttre’s zzzztttloooooooow!”

Jury Rigger winced at the warbling, static filled voice crackling out of a snow covered speaker box, the unicorn filly’s heart hammering in her chest at the eerie silence being broken. The squealing of the rusty iron gate to the walled town of ruins she’d stumbled across had been bad enough, but that bizarre automated message playing along with the movement was much worse.

Raiders or monsters might overlook a squeaky gate moving in the wind, but a cheerily raised voice, even filled with pops and hisses making most of the message indecipherable, was just advertising her presence. The crunch of hooves in the snow behind her proved the point and the pale orange filly’s bright green eyes widened in fear, shaking her brown and yellow mane from her vision and scanning the dead woods she’d blundered through to find the place.

She couldn’t see them yet, but the gravelly voiced moans and snarls echoing back to her brought a cold sweat to her coat beneath her tattered winter gear. Feral ghouls.... Just perfect! Even if she had more than a hoofful of rounds for the .44 revolver floating up in her emerald magic, the poor gun was held together with little more than duct tape and hope at this point, it could break down on any shot.

Rather than fight, Jury turned back to the gate and went to widen the narrow gap she’d opened that had caused the stupid dinner bell message to go off to begin with. It was tall and still sturdy despite the decades since the war, the wall it was set in dense brick that would hold off most wasteland monsters short of a hellhound.

“Welcomzzztt to-Welcomzzztt to-Welcomzzztt to….” Unfortunately the damn automated message still functioned well enough to go off. Every. Single. Time. that she moved the heavy gate, shoving frantically as the shuffling noises of the undead rose to a gallop behind her.

The drifts of snow concealed years of rotten leaves and soil burying the bottom of the gate, along with the skeletal corpse of a pony pressed against the inside that Jury’s panicked shoving uncovered. She wrenched at the frozen foreleg reaching under the gate towards her to get enough movement out of the barrier, absently noting the faded blue and yellow barding sleeve and nearly freezing in surprise when she found what had blocked the gate so firmly.

A pip-buck! Whoever the Stable-pony with the 19 on their back was, they’d gotten caught doing the same thing she was apparently, only trying to get out instead. The valuable, foreleg worn, arcano-tech computer was wedged under the gate tight. Jury turned to buck at it when her magic wasn’t enough to pull it free and gulped, spotting the first of the ferals charging out of the woods with guttural growls and roars.

“Welcomzzztt to” CLANG! “Welcomzzztt to” CLANG! “Welcomzzztt to” CLANG! Clenching her eyes shut behind her tattered Wonderbolts goggles, Jury bucked hard behind her over and over, nearly falling on her belly when the gate finally popped free and moved a few more inches.

Giving a yelp as she caught herself, Jury scrambled around and dove for the narrow opening. For once she was grateful she was so underfed, her clearly defined ribs under the tattered winter coat squeezed through with no issue. She couldn’t help an exasperated snort when her flanks got caught for an instant, of course she still kept some padding back there… She came loose with only a moment of scrambling however, prancing around to snatch the pip-buck up in her telekinesis and throwing her body against the gate ahead of the zombie horde charging her.

Jury slid the latch on the gate shut with a bare moment of relief, then screamed when the first of the ferals slammed into the barrier and the latch snapped off in a shower of rust, forcing her to remain inches away from the snapping teeth of three undead ponies with more on the way. Being skinny and scrawny might have helped her get through the gate, but it also meant she didn’t have the weight to hold it long, already her braced hindlegs were trembling.

Thinking fast, Jury’s terrified green eyes swept all around her, settling on another pony corpse half hanging out of a little guard shack by the gate. This one was nothing but bones in white and yellow rags, the tattered remains looking somewhat similar to the first body somehow.. Their skull had been caved in, leaving a blackened stain on the weathered wood shack that led down to a snow covered lump she clutched at with her magic.

Surprised at the weight when she finally yanked the rock loose, Jury dragged it close and nearly got knocked off her hooves for her trouble. More zombies had joined those reaching through the gate and fumbling at her barrel, a glance over her shoulder showed the next several to hit the gate would be too much for her to hope to keep it shut as she just barely managed.

Straining with effort, Jury threw her meager weight against the gate again and slammed the… rather odd looking rock where the pip-buck had been wedged. Thankfully, it seemed like the dense stone (that for some reason looked like a loaf of bread?) was as good a fit and indestructible as the pip-buck was, allowing her to cautiously pull away from the gate and breathe a sigh of relief at the ferals snapping and shoving against each other to no avail.

“WelcomWelcomWelcomWelcomWelcomWelcomWelcomWelcom….” Jury pinned her ears back as the gate speaker went bonkers at all the ferals pushing to get in, dusting the pip-buck off and trotting towards the hidden village she’d found.

Hopefully there’d be good salvage, enough to keep her going another month, or week, or even day… She was definitely here for the time being, short of finding another exit or climbing the wall elsewhere. Judging by what she could make out down the lane she followed, her view inside supported what she’d seen from the tree she’d climbed outside the gates to spot the secluded village.

She had hopes it was as abandoned as it looked at least. No raiders, no monsters, no settlement of somewhat rational or not ponies, just an empty ruin. The sign she’d uncovered buried in the snow at the roadside a few miles back that led her here was the only advertisement she’d seen and that was prewar. If she was lucky, Sire’s Hollow was a hidden gem just waiting for the salvaging.

Trotting into the center of town, Jury’s head panned back and forth trying to make sense of things and not making much headway. It was a fairly intact complex of ruins for the wasteland, lots of cozy little homes she’d passed on the outskirts leading to a main street of businesses and a central fountain full of frozen, scummy water.

What was weird was most evident standing before the cracked stone fountain however, it looked like the town was divided right down the middle, and that the two sides had fought a war… She turned her head left to go over it again, eyeing the sturdy and very old fashioned looking businesses, spotting a dilapidated book store and bakery right off. Turning right, she saw upscale and cutting edge wartime buildings in the style of the big city ruins she’d explored before, including a smoothie shop and what looked like a perfume shop by the oversized spray bottle shaped sign.

There were numerous corpses scattered around just in eyesight, most centered on the fountain as the bizarrely marked and fortified border between the two halves. Walking about slowly to dust these free of snow for a closer look, she saw most were frozen in the act of combat with each other.

There were tangled piles of ponies who’d fought hoof to hoof, knives and other crude melee weaponry, along with a few firearms rusting away to ruin as she paced further out in a widening circle. The buildings on the left showed scorched burns of magical energy weapons fire, while those on the right had more of those weird, bread shaped rocks lobbed through the walls.

After checking it all over, Jury scratched her mane through her tattered red sock hat and frowned, the ones of the left were all dressed in white, while the ones on the right were wearing blue. What was the same however was the yellow accents to the familiar barding, including the faded number 19 each wore… These were all Stable-ponies, but Jury thought they all only wore blue, like that silly little cartoon Stable-buck on all the Stable-Tec ads.

On the one hoof, she felt disgusted and sad for all these idiots who’d come back to the surface she’d grown up on. As a filly, she often prayed to the Goddesses asking why she couldn’t have been born one of the lucky few to come from a safe place like they did. It obviously took no time at all for them to repeat the mistakes of the past and for the wasteland to corrupt them like it did all ponies.

On the other hoof however, Jury couldn’t help an internal squee at the prospect of finding a Stable nearby. Even if these ponies had abandoned it and left little behind, just the location of such a place could go for a ton of caps to the right buyer. It may be close by if she was lucky, but it probably wasn’t too far off even if she wasn’t. All she had to do was poke around and hope for clues along with the supplies she’d hoped to find here.

That left picking where to start, so Jury turned right without much debate. The fancier and newer looking part of town was more likely to have valuable salvage after all, plus she could see the glow of flickering gem lights in the shops that would make searching easier. With a rumble in her tummy, she made for the smoothie shop first, while making a mental note to hit the bakery on the other side of town soon after.

Unfortunately, the awful reek of rotten food assaulted her nose as soon as she opened the cracked glass door. The counter bearing a trio of rusting, heavy duty blenders was heavily laden with a pile of fruits and vegetables that had dissolved into an amorphous heap of stink that made her gag.

Jury held her nose and poked around behind the counter anyway, the empty ache of her belly making even the pile of rotten refuse tempting. She was relieved it didn’t come to that at least, finding a couple jars of Zap Apple preserves and peaches in heavy syrup. She nearly inhaled the latter, looking around the back and following the mellow green glow of a terminal coming from the manager’s office as she munched the heavenly, decades old food.

‘Things have been getting worse with those damn Celestials, I heard there was another fight yesterday. At least back in Stable 19 they stayed in their half and we stayed in ours, ever since we came back to the surface though, things have been getting tense. Overmare Flare told us to do the same up here, but we have to listen to them proselytizing across the border about sticking to the old ways and worshiping Goddess Sunbutt instead of glorious goddess Luna. The war wasn’t her fault, it started under their precious Celestia! Why should we praise her and abandon the goddess who brought us into the modern age? Why, we wouldn’t have survived at all without the Stable and all its technology they turn their noses up at now. I know we shouldn’t fight, but how much blasphemy are we expected to take? Every day things get a little worse, it’s all falling apart slowly but surely. I’m worried all it will take is a spark for things to get really bad, so Essence and I have been thinking of heading out on our own somewhere. We’ve been putting supplies aside in her safe and I’ve got my key safe in the register so…’

Jury’s eyes lit up as she perused the journal entries on the unsecured terminal. Jackpot! She often read little scraps of the past for opportunities just like this, ponies leaving little treasure maps behind. As she fumbled at the register to find the key mentioned, she had to admit it was partially curiosity too, mulling over what she learned and not liking it.

It took bashing at the bullet ridden register with her hooves to get the drawer to finally open with a loud ‘Ding!’ while she ruminated on the thought, but Jury gave a victorious whinny when she pulled the tray of useless old world bits aside to find a tarnished silver key. That done and with nothing more of immediate use to scavenge in the smoothie shop, she trotted back outside and looked around in thought. Which shop belonged to this ‘Essence’ mentioned in the terminal entry?

The answer leapt out at her when she glanced towards the shop next door with the giant perfume bottle sign. Most of the letters were scorched or rusted away, but she saw several Es had survived and the shadow of where the other letters once were was enough to puzzle it out.

She barely made it halfway in the door when a clanking noise made her ears flick warily, locking on to a rusty robot making its slow way out from behind the counter of the shop that still smelled strongly of… everything actually. All the broken bottles littering the shelves had combined into one fantastic stink.. At least it was a Ponitron cashier clomping out to greet her, the least dangerous and most often harmless model of Robronco robot. Jury still drew her revolver in her magic and pointed it towards the potential threat, slowing to a stop as it spoke in a staticky voice.

“Greetings Customer! Would you care to sample our newest essences today?” The Ponitron bellowed in its halting electronic voice, leaving Jury annoyed as she trotted cautiously in the shop and made to look for this safe.

“No, umm… just browsing, thanks.” Jury huffed and tried to sidle around the slow moving robot, making for the rear of the shop.

The robot gave a negative sounding beep from its glass domed head, then spoke in a cheery voice and turned towards her as she came close. “Oh please, it’s free and the very latest from Mistress Essence. Try a sample of our tangerine tear gas!”

Jury had a bare moment to blink in confusion at the robot’s happy shout, then the nozzle mounted in its chest spewed out an orange cloud of choking gas that made her fall back in pain and revulsion. She’d never seen or smelled a tangerine as a child of the wastes, but she seriously hoped they weren’t really so sickly sweet. The closest she could come to the smell was the nasty orange flavor of Rad-Away, in gaseous form, and 20% more vile. It was also 1000% more painful, her vision blurred with tears and her eyes burned immediately, her gasp of surprise only taking more of the horrid stuff down her lungs, which instantly rebelled at the treatment and started coughing it back out uncontrollably.

She backpedalled away from the clanking torture-bot happily trying to corner her, barely able to hear it warble proudly “Wonderful isn’t it? One of Miss Essence’s newest line of designer essences! Custom made for our Celestial neighbors, try Apple Acid next!”

Judging by the name and past experience, Jury had no desire to try another ‘fragrance’ and dove aside, barely avoiding a puff of green gas that drifted over to a rusty set of shelves that corroded on contact with the noxious stuff, spilling more bottles to the floor that added to the stench and only made breathing harder..

She couldn’t see much through her burning and puffy eyes, but Jury fired blind at the thing to make it stop. Half the quartet of .44 rounds missed entirely, while the last two managed to hit center mass with a ping against metal and the more satisfying sound of sparks and grinding metal as it fell to a heap.

Staggering toward it twitching on the ground, Jury coughed and sniffled as she reared back and stamped on its glass domed head repeatedly, not stopping until it was a broken ruin under her hooves. That done, she wove her way to the back of the shop and curled up behind the counter with tears streaming from her bloodshot eyes, angry and still scared by the close call. She’d dismissed it as mostly harmless when it did as so many robots did and acted like the world hadn’t ended around it, nearly paying a high price for letting her guard down around a piece of the old world winding its way down to ruin..

The safe turned out to be just what she was hoping for. Jury exited the Essence shop with a full belly and bloodshot eyes some time later, roaming her way over to the other side of town. While the half of Sire’s Hollow she had explored so far had been full of prewar ruins in the most modern style of architecture around before the end, the other half looked like something out of a storybook of ancient times.

Of course being constructed of such crude materials meant the ruins were in a worse state of destruction than the other side of town, many nothing more than the burnt husks of foundations that had crumbled away in the decades since the war. The bakery and nearby bookshop were made of sturdier stone with traditional earth pony craftsponyship however, giving Jury a couple more places to look over.

She passed the remains of several old fashioned catapults around the bakery, nearly tripping over a pile of more of those bread shaped rocks waiting to be loaded and lobbed towards the other side of town. When she poked her head in the bakery itself, she gaped at the piles of more of the rocks and realized they weren’t bread shaped, they were bread…. Sort of…

An experimental bite nearly chipped a tooth and she tossed the heavy lump away. The faded, hoof painted sign she passed on the counter reading; ‘Made with 100% Ancient Pony Grains’ made her hopeful the ingredients were more edible and still around in the back. Jury made her way where the looming bulk of a huge stone oven took up most of the kitchen and started poking around.

What she did find still rattling around in the various ingredient tins was more like gravel than food, though she did find a few things she had to think on near the oven. Numerous metal molds had blackened chunks of more of the stone like bread in odd shapes, which she eventually recognized as the strange pieces of armor the skeletons in the white Stable barding wore outside.

With her curiosity getting the better of her, Jury blew the dust off a heavy open book on a small table in the very back, reading over the blocky script mouth written by the earth pony skeleton she found huddled on a small cot in a back room. Knowing what happened here wouldn’t really do her any good, but there was always the chance for another clue to something useful at least. Plus she was genuinely interested now, how had these Stable ponies fucked everything up so completely, turned on themselves when there were so many other threats in the wasteland?

‘...One of those uppity Lunites complained about my bread again today, suggested I ‘tweak’ the recipe so there’s less crust! Overstallion Firelight’s right, they’ve got no respect for tradition over there, the crust is the best part!

As if that wasn’t enough, then they started harping on about Luna being the better Princess right in my shop! Well I put Mocha in her place alright, told her it was Luna’s fault the world went to hell, she was in charge after all. Goddess Celestia never should have left the throne to her sister I says. 1000 years of peace and harmony under our goddess after all, when it only took Luna a couple decades to blow it all to hell. Well, she didn’t have nothin’ to say to that, let me tell you! She got all snippy and red faced, said she’s never comin’ back for my delicious bread again, well good riddance! Got plenty of loyal customers on this side of town already, don’t need Lunites coming over with all their fancy modern ideas to ruin things like their goddess ruined Equestria!.’

The random journal entry she read over just confirmed her initial thoughts about this weird town, they really had all lost their minds arguing over the best goddess. The entries she skimmed over after that just got worse, tensions rose to the breaking point with the other side of town, eventually turning from squabbles into scuffles, then a fight here and there. Finally one fight over their twisted beliefs went too far and ended with one of the dead baker Cracked Wheat’s loaves of deadly bread smashing a pony’s skull open.

After that most of the journal was filled with short entries concerning how much work the baker took on for the war effort, cooking up ammo and armor both in his shop that supplied the old fashioned ponies here the means to fight their modern armed counterparts on the other side of town.

“Idiots…” Jury muttered under her breath as she slammed the book closed and scooped up what usable odds and ends she had found, huffing bitterly at the senseless stupidity of it all.

She’d seen communities fall apart on these lines before. Holy war… No wonder the place was a ghost town, these fools got to fighting each other over which Princess was best. These Stable ponies had every advantage, came back to the surface after riding out the last couple decades of hell, built what had been a thriving, well defended settlement, then they tore it apart from the inside.

It was all so stupid and pointless it made Jury angry and sad as she made her way to the last mostly intact building, flinging open the heavy oak door to what had been a huge bookshop and slamming it shut behind her with a forceful buck.

Jury barely had time to take in the musty, open room full of shelves on all sides before an ominous creaking sounded out all around her. A moldy book bonked her on the head, drawing her eye up to the nearest shelves shaking and shuddering above her.

She squeaked and dove aside just ahead of the whole thing coming down on top of her, then was forced to prance on as the crash set off the other shelves all around her. One after another fell like dominos, shaking the whole building as she scrambled nimbly through it all. Jury skidded to a halt inches away from one shelf coming down in front of her muzzle, then leapt out of the way of another coming down on top of it, the whole while getting pelted with more heavy books falling like rain.

When the dust settled, Jury was buried under a mountain of musty books and bruised all over, but alive and able to slowly dig her way out. The bookstore had fared less well, making her groan in frustration and despair as she took it in. The door out was blocked....

Several of the heavy oak shelves had fallen on top of each other against it, presenting a major obstacle to getting out as just an experimental telekinetic tug with her horn proved even the rotten wood was too heavy to pull free. Books littered the floor, making her progress through the room difficult as she searched for another exit with increasing panic.

By the time she reached a gloomy corner of still intact shelves labeled ‘Antiques’, Jury was despondent, trudging to the clear little nook that looked like it had been made into some kind of camp and falling to her haunches with a fearful whinny. She was trapped… She’d been lured in to this rotting town that seemed determined to fall apart around her and get her killed, now it looked like it may have succeeded. She had a little food and water now, but that would only last so long, hopefully long enough to find a way out…

Sniffling miserably, she eventually looked up and saw she wasn’t alone. A cracked and worn leather chair had been dragged behind the small desk for looking over books in this section, the surface littered with a lantern, piles of thick tomes, a few snack cakes and bottles of water she scooped up wearily, and a white barded skeleton presiding over it all from the seat. It was a unicorn, a pool of blackened blood staining the seat it was propped up in, sitting before a large book held open with a ratty quill pen lying on the brittle pages.

Giving a tired sigh, Jury took a look at the flowing script written there. She’d already poked around in this hellhole enough it got her caught in this mess, she may as well read what this pony had written in what looked to be his last moments.

‘...were all wrong, fighting over one goddess or another. How could we have all been so stupid? Was it just because of the Stable? Following Stable-Tec’s experiment about living in balance and harmony with another community just kept us separate and distrustful. Maybe it was my fault, mine and Stellar Flare’s… We were always squabbling before we went underground, time just made it worse. If it wasn’t bickering over Celestia and Luna, it would have been something else.

Here at the end, I see now neither one is the true deity of this wasteland we found ourselves in after coming back to the surface. Luna and Celestia both were goddesses of order, day and night, push and pull, balance… Harmony. No, what rules this world is neither of their blessed souls. Chaos rules here, disorder, disharmony, dissonance… Discord, he’s the true god of this world now..

My Punkie-wunk taught me a word from all her fancy arcane theory and spellcraft that stuck with me all these years, Entropy… I looked it up again to write here for whoever finds this. The first definition was probably the one she meant, she loved egghead stuff like it anyway. It says entropy is; A thermodynamic quantity representing the unavailability of a system's thermal energy for conversion into mechanical work, often interpreted as the degree of disorder or randomness in the system.

The second definition is simpler for old bucks like me though, a lack of order or predictability; gradual decline into disorder. A gradual decline...that’s what happened here. We got so caught up fighting over which half of a pair meant to balance each other was best, we became unbalanced and descended into chaos, we fell to discord.

Blaming the spirit of chaos sounds better than us just being stupid enough to let a disagreement disolve into fighting another miniature war after surviving the big one anyway. I thought about coming here for the entrance to our side of the Stable, but I don’t have much time left and I don’t want to die down there. Maybe I can leave behind a warning for any other survivors out there trying to rebuild after we’re gone before I die though.

Discord or not, always be mindful of the tendency of things to fall apart over time, like this whole sad, ruined world. Fight back, try to remember the magic of harmony and friendship, fix what’s broken and remain ever vigilant against entropy. Be better than we were.’

The last words trailed off into an unsteady ink blotch and Jury’s lip quivered at the stallion’s last words, reflecting how they applied to her and the situation she was in now. Entropy… Just as he said, everything about this town was run down and falling apart, dissolving into chaos that had now trapped her.

After a few minutes however, she bucked up and took heart in the warning he tried to leave behind. The ruins of the old world may be run down and falling apart, but there were still ways to take the rotting bones of the old and build something new, to survive, to fight back.

Wiping her eyes and putting on a determined expression, Jury stood and started sorting through the detritus of fallen books and broken shelves, bringing order to the chaos as she sought out the entrance to this Stable he’d mentioned. The dead stallion’s final message did what he hoped and may even save her life, providing not just the information that there was a way out hidden somewhere here, but hope too.

Everything about Sire’s Hollow may be crumbling away to chaos and trying to kill her, but she wasn’t going to die here. Jury was going to live, somehow…. Entropy wasn’t going to be what killed her.

Author's Note

By Crazyperson

F is for the fear of Darkness that we feel

“Listen up, you lickspittle idiots!” The Paladin was in a real huff today, wasn’t he?

“We lost contact with a squad at 2100 hours, this is no longer a training exercise. Do I make myself clear?” Jeez, you’d think we were in a warzone. Let's face it, this is probably just some squires trying to skip out on training. Wouldn’t be the first time some punks thought they could hide out and pretend they got lost. Still, I had a job to do so might as well. Hell of a retirement plan from the front lines, you spend your best years fighting the scum of the waste, then they stick you to babysitting squires till you can’t even work your power armor anymore. Elder Sharp Sides had a sense of humor, whatever, better go knock those punks heads together.

“Paladin, get these kids back to camp I’ll find the straggler,” I grunted and trotted over to my armor.

“Sorry, orders from above, this needs to serve as experience in search and rescue operations. Take the trainees Blackbox.” Great, babysitting kids while looking for other kids. I should have taken a bullet fighting Red Eye’s assholes. “Understood, come on, you punks! Saddle up, standard gear lets find these lost souls!”

I bucked my armor’s belly, and it reared up backplates opening for me. As the plates closed around me, I activated my radio to get more details. “Lighthouse, you get roped into this too?”

“Hah, yeah designation Gamma 01, I'm taking the brats up to a hill. Were to establish overwatch for a third squad if they don’t show up soon.” Of course, Elder Sharp Sides was taking this way too seriously.

“Just another day at Everfree Forest.” Lighthouse chuckled and cut the transmission.

“Damn straight,” I muttered, I trotted ahead of the squires assigned to me. We set up camp some sixty meters from the forest. Our campsite was placed overhead on a hill, as a standard procedure, we started bringing squires here for training. Everfree was practically alive, a pulsing beast in its own right, spewing out the worst the wasteland had to offer. The hellhounds relocating nearby only made The Order and me all the tenser. Still, a perfect place for survival training and a hell of a lot of untapped resources for the brave and stupid enough. Unlucky for me, Applejack’s Rangers counted among the brave and stupid kind.

“Crusader Blackbox, we’re ready, sir!” I turned to the brats under my command. Bartz, Nikola, and Thyme, nice enough kids when it comes down to it.

“Alright come on, stay together, standard patrol formation, you see something you call it out.” I started down the path into the valley below. “Oh, almost forgot we’re designated Gamma 02, switch your short burst to frequency 12.34.” I sighed and led us through the ravine. “Stay sharp, what weapons did you choose?”

“Huh?”

“Weapons soldier, keep up!”

“Oh, right.” Nikola stammered, “a-as squad leader I assigned us energy weapons to minimize the chance of jamming in a moist environment.”

“Not bad, now just make sure you don’t turn one of your comrades to dust. Remember, any incident for friendly fire could be costly.” Always the same shit, kids eager to shoot lasers at everything. Well, it doesn’t matter, the wildlife tended to leave you alone if you went in groups.

We entered into Everfree, the canopy of trees instantly blocked out the light of the moon shining above us. I turned my headlamp on; the squires followed suit, turning their helmet lights on. In a moment's notice, the world had changed. I felt like we had stepped out of Equestria into a strange alien world. Beams of light filtered through the trees, casting the forest in ominous shadows. Our own lights banished the darkness, revealing more of the hostile planet. Critters, small and some the size of your hoof, scampered from the light. Offending eyes stared at us from the shadows, always just shy of our headlamps. I could hear the kids quicken their pace behind me, I couldn’t blame them, being alone here was enough to drive a stallion to drink.

As we delved deeper into the forest, the footing became tricky. Gnarled roots and holes dug by Celestia knows what forced us to slow down. Despite my years of experience screaming at me otherwise, I was forced to keep my head low to illuminate the path. I wasn’t at war, I really didn’t need to worry about some slaver nut splattering my guts with an anti-machine rifle. But it was hard you know, you spend your whole life from one fight to another, and if ponies ain’t trying to kill you, suddenly it feels weird.

“Omega 01 to 02, how copy?” My radio crackled to life.

“Hard copy 01, what's up?” I pushed through some low hanging branches snapping them.

“I found a trail, hooves all over the place, looks like our missing ponies went through here.” I heard Lighthouse’s kids say something I couldn’t make out. “Yeah, it looks like the kids were in a hurry.”

Hm, did they try to run and hide? That’s a long way to go just to avoid further work. “Hey, Lighthouse, what Crusader was in charge of that team?”

“I’m not sure-bzzt- Ga-bzzt- huh-bzzt- C-bzzt- in.” The transmission died after some interference. That shouldn’t have happened, we're in pretty close range.

“Lighthouse respond, Lighthouse, do you copy?” I stopped, and Nikola bumped into my flanks.

“Sir?” he rubbed his nose with a questioning glance.

“H.Q, please respond, this is Gamma 02 reporting in.” I gritted my teeth. This wasn’t right, not one bit. I should have felt it sooner, squires slacking off was one thing, but I should have paid closer attention to our surroundings. The world had gone quiet, worst it seemed as if the air itself has gone still. The peering eyes of the wildlife had disappeared, we were no longer of interest or worry to them. Something else drove them away from the area, I suppose it had to be a predator. I really have lost my edge working daycare for these kids.

“This is H.Q; send your traffic.”

“I lost contact with 01, I’m encountering interference, can you hail them from your end?” I powered up my weapons, feeling a weird tingly feeling in the back of my neck. I shifted my head slightly, Bartz bringing up the rear was just spacing out, looking at everything but focusing on nothing. Nikola was muttering something to himself, his eyes on the ground. Thyme, the smarter of the three, which wasn’t by a sizeable margin mind you, was looking around nervously. These dolts would have been shot dead by Red Eye’s slavers.

“Hey!” I stamped my hoof on the ground.

“Ah!” A beam of angry red light hit me square in the chest, leaving a bright red spot on my armor. I froze in place for a moment.

“I’m so sorry!” Nikola put his front hooves together, pleading, “please don’t report me!”

Sigh.

“Enough, you’re lucky I’m in here, or you’d be scooping me up into your saddlebags. Now pay attention, you’re looking for your comrades in a hostile environment.” I threw an accusing hoof at Nikola, “quit looking at your hooves and take stock of the situation, surroundings, your squads formation, think!”

“Bartz, by Celestia's flanks, you look like you’re in Luna’s moon, a Manticore could have you halfway down its gullet, and you’d still be a mile away!”

“Thyme!”

“Sir!” She straightened.

“You clench your ass any tighter, and I could squeeze diamonds out of it, being alert is one thing, twitching at every time the wind rustles the leaves is another. Take a deep breath, calm down, and focus your mind.” I sighed, shaking my head, “are we clear?”

“Yes sir!” they retorted in unison and spread out to cover all sides.

“Outstanding!” I turned back around, scanning the forest for life. The stillness was all that greeted me, and it made my skin crawl.

“This is H.Q; come in Gamma 02.”

“This is 02, send your traffic H.Q.” I narrowed my eyes in anticipation.

“Gamma 01 is not responding, Squire’s distress pulsers are not responding either. Were prepping a full armored squad, in the meantime, we need your squad to investigate 01’s last known position, how copy?”

What?

“H.Q, my trainees are not prepared for a live search and rescue operation. I advise they retreat while I proceed on my own.” I gritted my teeth, H.Q had to be sniffing glue or something. Two trainee squads are missing, and they want me to take these kids with me?

“Negative 02, we don’t have the pony-power to spare, the armored squad is coming from the second outpost at Apple Acres. Use caution and fallback if you encounter trouble, how copy?”

Son of a- “Hard copy H.Q, proceeding to 01’s last known location, 02 out.” I heaved a sighed and looked to my disappointed squad. Frankly, I didn’t care if they were disappointed, better they live to try again than die in this godforsaken forest. “Don’t look so surprised, were in the middle of a forest teeming with Celestia-knows-what, and you couldn’t even properly cover your asses while I talked to H.Q? You want to prove me wrong, shape up, and do not let your guard down for a second, is that clear?” I opened my helmet, letting them stare into my cobalt eyes.

“Yes, sir!” They straightened, a fire immediately started burning in their eyes. Now those were the eyes of soldiers!

I took charge, and we started hiking north of our current position. With the thick foliage, I could only curse as we ran into a hidden ravine. I jumped down, my metal hooves splashing into muddy water. The trainees slowly climbed down one by one, before we climbed up the other end. It took us a good hour to traverse to Lighthouse’s last known position.

The sight was not promising, we passed through the brush into a worn path from hooves beating down the ground. The trail led further into the forest, the trees canopy drowned out Luna’s light here the thickest. I could not make out a sliver of natural light as the path was engulfed in utter darkness. I trailed my headlamp over the beaten way to find a disorganized mess of hooves. None looked older than today, worst some looked fresh, and the deeper prints made by Lighthouse’s armor were everywhere.

“Sir, look,” Thyme’s light illuminated the foliage.

“Scorch marks,” true enough sections of leaves and tree bark had been burned through. A clean-cut of a magical laser bolt, the tree trunks were burned clean through leaving perfectly round holes, and the ground itself had marked as if somepony fired on the ground. I trotted up to light the way through the path. Several hoof prints led into the unknown, though my light did little in banishing the oppressive dark.

Click click click…

“Hm? Did you hear that?” Bartz said behind me, I strained my ears, and the sound detectors in the armor amplified to adjust.

Click click click…

What is that, sounds like someponie's chattering teeth. “Circle up, watch all sides, I need to contact H.Q.” I turned my radio on.

A loud ear-splitting screech shattered the quiet of the forest. My radio instantly turned to static. My armor’s HUD flickered but persisted, and the light of our lamps flickered for a second. Everypony tried covering their ears, but the sound seemed to pass right through us to rattled our bones. “What the hell!” Nikola took off his helmet, sitting on his haunches.

Bzzzzzzztttt

Nothing, just static, that…screech or whatever the hell that was, was interfering with our radios. “Okay, now I know why we couldn’t reach 01.” I glanced back to make sure everypony was alright. “Status?”

“All good,” Bartz threw up a hoof.

“I’m fine, Sir.” Thyme nodded.

“Fine, but what do we do, Sir?” Nikola donned his helmet and tapped it for good measure.

“Well, we march out of here.” Everyponie’s heads snapped up to look at me, “or we look for our comrades.” I opened my helmet to look at them all in the eye once again. “Don’t answer before knowing what you’re getting into, this was a deliberate move. Something or someone knocked down our calms, they knew what we were using them for. There’s no shame in a tactical retreat to wait for reinforcements.”

Everypony shared a look, and damn it if I wasn’t kind of proud of them at the moment. “We don’t leave Ranger’s behind, Sir.” Nikola shook his head and puffed up his chest. “We look for our comrades.”

“Alright, stick together and watch your flanks, I don’t want anything sneaking up-on-us. That clear?”

“Yes, Sir!” The kids smirked at one another and got into formation.

“Alright, let’s take the road well-traveled then.” I chuckled, trying to make light of the situation, for their sakes, and a bit for mine as well.

Weapons powered, lights searching, we followed 01’s hoof-steps further and further into Everfree. The wind started to pick up again, rustling the tree leaves, making the swishing sound feel more terrifying than it was. The lack of noise from the local wildlife was disconcerting, hell it was downright frightening. The things that live in Everfree hardly ever hid from us out of fear. Yet now they were gone as if they were never there in the first place. The windblown trees were the only companions willing to hiss at us, and whenever the wind died, that sound came again.

Click click click…

The damn sound had the squires jumping at every shadow, their lights would swing violently one way, then track the bush lines slowly back. The noise followed us, and it was always at the same distance, it never got louder, and it never grew quieter. Each time it came, my ears twitched, and I wanted nothing more than to start firing into the tree-line, to shut up whatever was following us. The wind blew particularly loud, the trees hissing grew into a roar, and I heard hurried footsteps track across our left, the clicking followed, this time louder and much closer…much too close.

Click click click…

“Did you hear that?” The squires circled up, lights searching I snapped to the left my guns following my line of sight. I glanced at my E.F.S to see the directional compass free of lines, save for my squad.

“Sir”

“Quiet Thyme,” I snapped lightly at her, I strained my ears but only the trees steadily growing quieter came through the sound-pick-up. When the air died down, none of us dared to move, I could hear my heart thump rhythmically against my chest. The seconds ticked away, and my own breathing became audible to me. I swallowed a lump in my throat and slowly stared down the path again. “Lets’ go; don’t let your guard down.”

“Roger,” Nikola was the only one with the nerves to answer steadily, everypony else just nodded, but the trembling in their frames was evident to me.

I learned early on; the quiet is a soldier's nightmare. The silence eats away at you, it robs of you of your sense and denies you sleep or even the clearing of your mind. Time becomes an insufferable crawl, seconds seem to tick away minutes apart, and noise, of any kind, sound a thousand times louder, and a million times more threatening.

Click click click…

“Shit!” Nikola hissed, he tried but failed to hide the curse under his breath. My armor picked up the sound clear as day. I swallowed again and looked down to find the end of the hoof-steps. But, just at the end of the hoof-steps laid a discarded magical energy rifle.

“Sir?” Nikola stepped up beside me. He focused on the discarded weapon, the barrel smoked a sign of repeated fire. He scrunched up his nose and stepped up to examine it closer, there was….something covering the rifle. I blenched almost throwing up in my mouth, I have seen things in war that will never let me sleep peacefully so long as I live. But this, this wasn’t pony-made this goopy slime was thick and white-ish in color. It was stuck right in the middle of the rifle side, splattered against it, like it had been hurled at it. There was a stringy bit off goop trailing into the dirty ground, and on closer inspection, it was scorched at the end, cut off by a laser bolt.

I stepped away and looked up to the surrounding area, the hoof-steps formed into a semi-circle, three ponies, two sets left of me, and one set of deeply imprinted hooves to the right. Lighthouse stood there, I looked to the brush line to see it scarred by heavy machinegun fire. Exploded bark from 5mm bullet fire, and a path plowed through by something substantial.

There’s no way Lighthouse abandoned his kids.

“Sir, I found more hoof-steps.” Nikola made me snap my head in his direction. Sure enough, more prints picked up about ten feet from where we were. I nodded, glanced more at the forced clearing, and trotted up to Nikola. Two sets of hoofprints, well to be precise two sets of hoofprints and half of another. I stepped back and put my hoof out to keep everypony else from stepping into the fresh tracks. I squinted my eyes, lowering my head closer to the ground. The two sets of hoof-steps were facing outwards. The Half-steps looked to be facing back where we came from. I tilted my head and stuck my hoof against the ground to feel it soft and muddy. There wasn’t a drop of water around us, and the soil around the area was dry. I stood up to my full length and brought up my soiled hoof up to my face. The mud, it was colored black and…red?

“Ah!” Thyme screeched and turned her lighting the path. “Something touched my back!” Everypony snapped into a combat stance and circled up. I whipped around with Thyme just behind me. I looked at her back to see a wet spot on her barding’s back. Another drop landed on her I put up my hoof to keep her from turning and knocking into me. “What is that?” She moved, albeit with frenzied caution to stand beside the drop. The ground beneath her had a small spot darkened by the dripping mystery liquid. I looked up, my headlamp traveling up to the canopy of leaves. Just above us, covered in the mystery goop, was a helmet. The front top was smashed open, two holes broke right through the hardened material, destroying the headlamp. The mystery liquid dripped, and I caught it on my armored hoof, it left a bright red spot that shined against our light.

“Blood”

“S-Sir?” Thyme’s breathing became shallow, I looked at her to see her staring upwards; her eyes wild with fear. Everypony else was looking up, Nikola’s lower lip was trembling, and Bartz flopped down on his haunches his jaw hanging open. I took a deep breath, my heart started to thump against my ears, despite my armors climate control environment; I felt a drop of cold sweat slither its way down the back of my neck. I clenched my mouth with my nostrils flaring against the mic inside my helmet. My ragged breathing mixed with my increasingly faster heartbeat, and I gathered the courage to look up.

The treetops were gnarled with strings of the mystery goop. The thick slimy lines of goop attached treetrunk-to-treetrunk, branch-to-branch, creating a network across the treetops. Tangled, or more like stuck against the goop, were a handful of ponies. I didn’t bother to look at my E.F.S; they were already gone. I dared not focus on the damage done to their bodies. I don’t think my stomach could take it.

“B-Brussle’s squad,” Nikola broke the horrified silence, the words sent a shudder down my spine I worked hard to suppress. Celestia above, they were just kids! I dared look at the face of one of the dead, their glassy stare fixed in sheer terror.

“There’s nothing we can do here, form up and let’s go.” I was surprised my voice didn’t shake because seeing those kids cut me deep. Flashes of slavers using slaves as cannon fodder flashed across my mind.

Shit.

“there's only four.”

“What?”

“F-four, Sir I only count four bodies, where are the rest of them.” Bartz’s voice quivered with every syllable.

Right, Brussel's squad was here, but where was Brussel, for that matter where was Lighthouse’s squad. “Form up, come on!” I growled to keep from quivering when I spoke. I trotted ahead, and everypony filed in behind me more alert than ever.

“What got them?”

“I don’t know, but it got them good, did you see-”

“Quiet, Nikola, you too, Bartz, Crusader Blackbox is concentrating!” Thyme hissed just a hoof-step behind me.

So we ventured deeper into the foreboding darkness, this whole place was blackened beneath the tree canopy. At times, a beam of light would trail above just ahead of me, probably the wisest choice any of the squires had made today. Whatever killed Brussel’s squad and probably gotten to Gamma 01, could be out there laying in ambush.

“Light!” Nikola hissed from the rear, Celseita, they jumbled up their formation. I’d scold them about consistency, but protocol on proper unit structure was the last god damn thing on my mind right now. Some twenty feet ahead, a flashlight illuminated a tree creating a fork on the road. There was something huddled against the tree, casting an ominous shadow against the tree trunk. I kept my weapons trained on the slumped figured, all light sources focused on the figure. With trepid steps, we inched closer, all of us ready to bring that thing into a whole world of hurt if it was hostile.

“…”

“It talks!” Bartz rushed up to my side.

“…”

“It’s a pony!” Thyme rushed ahead of me.

Stupid girl!

I hurried behind her and everypony followed. Against the tree laid huddled up, one of Lighthouse’s squires with blood pooled beneath him.

“Thelightsafethelightissafe,” he rocked back and forth, clutching something against his chest. I looked at the flashlight on the ground, and I grew pale, it was a… occupied helmet.

“Oh, Celestia… is he holding onto someponie’s?” Thyme could hold it no longer, she hurled her stomachs contents into a nearby bush.

I cringed and opened my helmet to let the frightened kid look at my face. With any hope, my ugly mug might bring him comfort, or get his attention. “Kid, are you okay, are you injured?”

He failed to respond, just kept rocking back and forth, muttering gibberish. “Thelightissafethelightissafe.”

“He’s in a trance,” I put my hoof on his shoulder, but he didn’t register that either. “Damn it, any ideas?” I looked at my squad. Thyme was gasping, recovering from the ordeal. Bartz could only stare at what the pony was clutching greedily in his fetlocks. Nikola stood by the occupied helmet, he lifted a hoof with what I could guess to be morbid curiosity to touch the helmet.

“NO!” The pony before me screamed bolting from the tree, he dropped his price possession and dove at the helmet. Nikola jumped, skittering away from the helmet while the pony grabbed the helmet, snuffing out the light against his chest. There was a crunching sound of glass beneath a metal surface.

“No,no,no,no,no!” The pony scrambled to his haunches. He picked up the helmet, its contents falling out of it with a wet plop against the dirt. Thyme looked on, horrified her light fixated on the ground. “No, no, no, no, no!” The crazed ponies wild eyes shifted rapidly while he hugged the broken helmet against his chest.

“Calm down kid, it's alright,” I tried to put my hoof against his shoulder. Something flashed from his belt. It caught the light of Nikola’s flashlight. Metal contacted against the side of my exposed face, and I fell to my side dazed. A hoof trench knife, with a metal-studded band to sick your fetlock through. The studs doubled as a striking weapon.

“It touched me!” I could hear bells ringing in my ears, along with the frightened ponies screams, he swung wildly at the dark until everyponie’s lights concentrated to him.

“Light, the light!” He dropped the trench knife fell on his haunches. He looked ecstatic to once again be bathed in light. Though everypony looked horrified at him, his front armor was red, covering the Ranger’s logo on his chest. The sight was grizzly as his relieved face displayed a manic smile.

“Keep lights on him!” Nikola barked, but he also trained his rifle on the pony.

“The light, it can’t take me, it can’t drag me from here… Lettuce!” Everypony jumped in place. The pony scrambled around the ground, looking for something. “Lettuce!” He grabbed the treasure he had dropped. “Were safe, the light Lettuce, we’re safe!” This kid was just yelling nonsense. I closed my helmet and took a steadying breath. This kid was nuts, I need to knock him out, we can drag him back out to H.Q. Still, I had to look at the brighter side, we found a survivor and the damn clicking noise had stopped following us. I felt a shiver run down my spine. The clicking was gone, why the hell didn’t I notice it the clicking had been absent?

“Damn!” I turned my light on the bushes behind me, “form a perimeter!”

“Sir?” Nikola moved to look at me.

“Form a perimeter right now, damn it!”

Click click click

There it is, “move it!”

“No!” the crazed poney grappled with Nikola, dropping the trench knife and his “Lettuce,” or at least what was left of him.

“Damn it get off!” Nikola struggled to get the pony off him, his rifle squeezed against the crazed pony, and Nikola blocking its line of fire.

Click click click

It’s getting closer! “Nikola!” I couldn’t move, damn it if I move; that’s another gap we can get attacked through.

“Sir, I can hear something coming!” Thyme shrieked, trembling in place.

“Where is it, where the hell is it!” Bartz swept his light across the bushes opposite off me.

CLICK CLICK CLICK!

“Get the F-!” A loud wet plop cut Nikola off. He looked at me, stunned in place.

Plop.

“N-no!” the crazed pony dropped his gaze down to his chest and fumbled around his belt. He forgot he lost his knife when he grappled with Nikola.

I looked down, stringy goop was stuck against Nikola’s back-left fetlock. Another was latched against the crazed ponies' abdomen. “Sir?” Nikola’s voice sounded like a frightened little colt. I lifted a hoof, but the goop went taught.

“Aahhh!!” Nikola got pulled off his hooves, he dug at the ground but was dragged into the bushes at an alarming speed.

The Crazed pony followed after him screaming and kicking. “The Light!”

“Open fire!” we might hit them, we might kill both, but I would not let them suffer the same fate as the rest.

The air repeatedly cracked with my heavy machinegun fire. The two Fifty caliber guns flashed in the darkness. Angry red laser beams cut through the foliage, the leaves around instantly caught fire burning!

Something, I don’t know what screeched an unholy sound so piercing I swore my ears were bleeding. “With me!” I broke into a full gallop after them, the two lines on my E.F.S rapidly grew farther away despite this.

“Help me!” Nikolas screamed, sounding farther and farther away. “Help!”

“Were losing him!” Thyme galloped ahead of me. My armor allowed me to run practically indefinitely, but its weight and size made me slower than a pony unburned by the load.

“Yell, don’t stop screaming!” I shouted with all my might, the lines were fading fast, this thing was fast, even if carrying two ponies.

“No!” Nikola screamed in immense pain, then silence. One of the lines faded from my E.F.S.

No, please, Celestia, no! I pushed my armor as fast as I could go. I broke through some thick foliage and slid to a stop. The crazed pony laid in a pool of his blood. I sat on my haunches and picked the broken pony up, his head rested against my armored fetlock. “Where did they go!”

Tears fell freely from his eyes, there was a bit of blood on the corner of his mouth. I looked down at his wounds. No, he wasn’t going to make it, but damn it, he could still help me save Nikola!

“Come on, kid, where did they go, where did that thing take my squires!” I shook him a little.

He blinked away the tears, a bloody fetlock plopped against the side of my armor sliding down. “The” he gasped, choking down a sob, “light….the light!” He gasped out before going limp in my arms.

“Sir!” Bartz burst in after me; he gasped for breath looking around frantically.

“He’s gone,” I let the kid down gently and got to my hooves.

“Wheres Thyme?”

Bartz question snapped me back to reality, I looked around, and my eyes widen. I looked at my E.F.S to see a fading line. “Heading southeast, let's go!” I went into a full gallop plowing through any obstacles in my way. The line was growing farther but not as fast as before. Good, I refuse to lose another kid, I’m going to grab her and -forgive me Nikola- get the hell out of here. I had to cut my losses I had to! Two squads lost, and one of my ponies taken. “Thyme, where are you?” I slowed down when Thyme’s marker grew close enough. Bartz followed suit, and quiet as a mouse we stalked through the jungle to find a clearing. Well, clearing in the sense that the forest hadn’t claimed the place. Then again, depending on who you asked, maybe it did. Nature, however, mutated claimed the spot. The tree canopy kept the place in utter darkness.

Slime coated the mossy ground of a massive tree with an enormous opening at its trunk. A cave entrance to the creature's lair, no doubt. The E.F.S signal was coming straight from there. Actually, quite a few E.F.S signals were coming through now. The proximity, it seems the creature's jamming ability didn’t jam signals at practically point-blank range. Shit, if they were inside, they were as good as dead. I should take Bartz and get out of here.

…

Damn it, I can’t, not when they’re this close and alive. “Bartz,” I hissed beneath my breath.

“Sir,” he whispered back.

“Go back, get the hell out of here and warn them to stay away from here.” Once you leave the creature’s range. I think the calms will work again.” One life, if I can save one life, my old ass can rest in peace. Well, pieces, I guess, I won’t let the bastard eat us, I’ll set my spark battery to overload and blow us all to hell. If I die, I won’t be lunch to some unholy creature of radiation.

“Sir, you can’t be serious!” Bartz stuttered, and he was shaking like a damn leaf, but the kid refused to leave.

“God damn it, this might not end pretty, and I need somepony to get out of this one alive you hear me?” I glared at Bartz and shoved him with the armors extra strength for good measure. He fell back, sprawling on the ground.

“We can’t afford to let our reinforcements come in blind. Get out, and get a transmission out to H.Q.” I glanced back at the cave entrance, besides there won't be anything left of the bastard to scrape into a test tube.

“Sir, please don’t die.” Bartz sniffled and wiped his armored foreleg over his nose.

Damn it, kid.

“Not planning to, now go.”

Bartz nodded, then tentatively trotted away into the dark forest. Alright, once more into the breach then. I swallowed a lump in my throat, and I peeked inside the cave. Slowly but surely, I trotted inside, deeper underground. The beast’s clicking began to echo off the walls, the further inside the sound started to overlap. For the first time in my thirty years as a Ranger, I noticed just how bloody loud my breathing was inside my helmet.

I stepped on something squishy, and I resisted the urge to shake inside my armor. With no small amount of strength, I managed to look down. There was some slime on the floor, and on closer inspection, there was slime all over the damn cave. “Sweet, Celestia, just what the hell is this thing.” I took another calming breath and trotted through the slime. The walls were caked with the stuff, dripping from the ceiling with long trails of slime before hitting the floor with a disgusting splat.

I gazed down at my E.F.S, the markers were close now, but I couldn’t hear or see any signs of survivors. My instincts, once raised and honed, now screamed at me to run, flee this place and never come back. Yet, the tunnels beckoned me ever onward, the thoughts of my comrades prostrate before the beast to devour smothered any thoughts of cowardice. I crouched low, powered up my weapons, and aimed my guns further into the cave. My heart pounded against my chest, waiting for the creature to rear its ugly head. In that brief moment, I realized I didn’t know what it looked like. I think that only terrified me more, My back legs started to vibrate in place in fear. My armor also informed me I just pissed myself, as sweat dripped down my face. I wasn’t much of a reader, but I vaguely recall a book saying something about the monster is scary until you shine the light on them.

I heaved a sigh and straightened up, freezing up here would spell death for us all. I trudge forward, albeit at a slower, more methodical pace. Maybe five minutes or ten had passed, I honestly lost count, time having long been put in the back burner. I arrived at the entrance of a chamber. About a meter from the entrance laid a body, or the remains of one. I shone my light on it, to see skeletal remains covered in that slime. The clothes on the body brought old memories to the surface. Red Eye’s slavers, I remember when they were trying to burn away Everfree. This poor bastard was probably picked off from the rest. I stepped closer, and a hoof-full of critters fleed from the holes where they were hidden. They scattered from the light, and I couldn’t get a good look at them. But, their flight brought my attention to something. A satchel wet from the slime nestled beneath the skeletal hoof of the slaver. I also noticed something dry and red on the wall. I followed the bloodstain up to see a poorly scribbled message.

The Light.

I scrunched my nose and looked back to the corpse, just like the kid. Mutterings about the light, a puzzle I had yet solve, and that clearly involved the monster that killed him and my comrades. The satchel then, I carefully opened it, lest one of the little critters in there gave me a heart attack. Inside were red sticks with tops.

Flares.

I looked towards the opening and narrowed my eyes. Celestia, I hope you’re really watching out for us, and this isn’t some bullshit from the nutjob priests of the waste. I slung the satchel over my neck, careful to keep it away from my gun barrel. I trotted into the cave’s chamber, and I almost wet myself again.

I could barely contain the fear-induced whimper that lodged in my throat. I had to swallow it down to keep from falling onto the ground out of sheer terror. I felt as if I had been swallowed into the belly of a monster. I tried to shine my light on the ghastly sights covering the wall. The slime was everywhere I couldn’t even see the cave walls anymore. The disgusting goop clung to the wall like a film layer that dripped onto the ground. Straight above my head was a hole, it was six meters in diameter, and it was so pitch black my light could not banish away the blackness.

I had to close my eyes and force myself to look down, lest I freeze in place, staring into the abyss. Though, the rest of the cave didn’t fare better. White, pulsating sacks laid clumped together just straight ahead of me. The sacks even lined the walls of another tunnel ahead of me. I dared not think what lied beyond it, hell I didn’t plan on going further either. I looked around, my comrades had to be here. I did my best to ignore the pulsating sacks that covered most of the walls around me.

I noticed some balls of thick goop, on the wall to my far left, I trotted towards it, squinting at them. It took me a moment, but I realized it was the missing ponies I was looking for. The goop had them plastered against the wall in some kind of cacoon. If I were a betting pony, the cacoons were probably for later consumption. Just next to my comrades, another cluster of white sacks pulsed erratically. Not one to allow me to get killed by whatever the hell they were. I trained my guns on it and flashed my light against them.

My jaw plunked against my armor. The light illuminated the inside of the sack, hell, it wasn’t just a sack. The damn things were eggs, and I was surrounded by hundreds of them. Probably, thousands more were beyond the second tunnel. The creature inside, wiggling impatiently, was like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I have lived many years in this blasted shithole we call Equestria, but I have never seen anything like this… thing. It frankly looked like it didn’t even belong in this world. The creature had a long scorpion-like tail with three sharp prongs curling into each other, like a claw from those old claw machine games littering abandoned outlet malls. At the end of the tail, I couldn’t get a good look at it, but I’m pretty sure there was an opening. The carapace along the spine for I couldn’t describe it as anything else were several plates of chitin that seem to rattle. Curled up were four sharp-looking legs with strange webbing between them. Its eyes, for it, had four divided between its maw were beady and yellow. While its mouth had four sharp mandibles that looked like it stabbed and fed its prey into its mouth.

With some effort, I tore my gaze from the monstrosity and swept my light across the sacks. The critters were of several sizes, but they all looked similar. The only difference seemed the stage of life cycle meant some were without tails yet. I shifted my gaze up to see more sacks above my comrades. I didn’t have enough bullets, and honestly, firing my guns would just attract the other ones.

Oh hell.

The realization was like a bucket of water dumped on me. There had to be hundreds of the bastards, and they were bound to come back any second. With that, bowel loosening thought, I set to free my comrades so we can get the hell out of here. I brought up my right hoof and flicked my wrist. A foot of sharpened steel slid out where my forearm armor met my hoof armor. Carefully I dug into the goop cutting away at it. I honestly couldn’t tell who I was freeing. But, not even halfway down the goop gave way, and I caught the pony inside. Clad in power armor, Lighthouse hung lifelessly against me. I frowned. I laid him down against the ground and opened his helmet, hitting the emergency switch hidden behind the ear. The helmet cracked, and he looked no worse for wear.

“Wake up soldier, come on!” I hissed gently, smacking the side of his cheek. His mouth trembled before opening.

“AAHHHH!!!” I scrambled back, as dozens of critters crawled out of his mouth. I scrambled to my hooves. A challenge with all the slime. I trained my guns on my friend. The bio-signs the E.F.S read. It was fooled by those little bastards, eating Lighthouse from the inside out! I roared and squeezed the littler bastards under my hooves. They squealed and screeched like unholy beasts that they were. The rest scattered, and I panted, looking at my hooves caked in viscera and blood. I looked over Lighthouse’s body to see puncture wounds about half a foot in diameter across his back. Damn it, these things were able to puncture through my armor, I really had to get the hell out of here.

Though my hopes were no longer high, I set to work on the last two. Thyme and Nikola, both showed life signs, but I gave Lighthouse one last look, before turning back to the task at hoof. I got the sack about halfway open revealing Thyme. I rather unceremoniously poked at her mouth with my blade. I opened her mouth and thanked Celestia when no bugs crawled out. I finished the job and plopped her down against Lighthouse’s body. I didn’t like having to use him as a prop-up pillow, but better that than the slimy ground. I worked on the final pod, peeling away at the goop around Nikola’s muzzle. When I got most of it out, he came too. His unfocused eyes blinked at me before they focused on me.

I smiled, feeling relief. I could take these two out of this nightmare. “Mmm!” Nikola’s eyes widened like dinner plates, he struggled violently against his constraints. The goop still around his muzzle didn’t allow him to speak. The message was, however, clear. I turned around on a dime with weapons trained and ready. The creature, or maybe it was a different one in its full horror, stood against me. Or it should have in my mind.

The moment my light touched it, it shrieked like bloody murder! The creature, a sickly pale yellow writhed in pain as its carapace hissed and boiled in the light. Every message soon became apparent. Even the dark canopy of the deepest part of the forest made sense now. The light hurt it, and it hurt bad. Tendrils of acrid smoke emanated from its tortured body, the bubbling boils burst into a bloody mess. The chitin plates on its back vibrated, making that clicking noise from before. Like a rad-roach when the light was turned on, it scurried away, trying to avoid the deadly fire from my headlamp. I smirked, a wave of courage swelling inside me. I turned back to Nikola to get the hell out of here!

Shit!

I stared straight into the beady eyes of one of the creatures barely a few inches from my face. The light on my headlamp forced a blood curling screech from it, and it dove against me. Its weight and my surprise sent us both tumbling into the ground. I put my hoof between its mouth and as it tried to clamp down on it. Hundreds of tiny fangs broke themselves against my armored forearm, and the four mandibles unable to gather enough torque desperately tried to puncture through my forearm. All the while, it screeched violently as it burned against my flashlight. Its two front legs stabbed wildly, barely missing me.

“Get the hell off me!” I yelled and brought up my free foreleg. I flicked my wrist and drove the full foot of steel into its soft underbelly. The creature screeched and stabbed once more, driving its pointed limb into my shoulder.

“AAAHH!!” With every bit of strength I had, I drove the blade deeper before pulling down, and I felt a mess of the creature’s insides spill on me. It wriggled once more before flopping down on top of me. I pushed the thing off, and pain shot down my shoulder. I rolled over it; the sharp limb still stuck inside me. I placed my hoof against it and pushed.

Mother fu-god damn it!

The limb swiftly went out, bloodied a good six inches. My medical injector got to work with a potion, slowly repairing the damage. I gulped down air, taking a moment's rest; I know damn well I can’t afford it, but still. I slowed my breathing down as best as I could just have to grab Nikola and get out of here. I moved to free Nikola to find him dead. I shut my eyes forcefully, cursing everything to hell and back. But there was no time I needed to leave. I grabbed Thyme and tossed her over my back, if I let the armor do all the work, we could be out of here in no time.

CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK

Damn it all to hell, some cosmic entity really just want us dead! The clicking was overwhelming thousands of them, overlapping over one another. Then the yell from before, only magnified by a thousand voices! My armor systems glitched up, my light flickered, and I flopped on my haunches, desperately covering my ears. Gods, Celestia, Luna, whoever the fuck was listening make it stop! In a desperate attempt, I turned off the outside sound receivers, and the screech fell to manageable levels. Still, my armor was sluggish, the glitches from the high-frequency screams were frying my systems. So I did the one thing I knew how to do. I dropped Thyme and started firing, I fired into the abyss. The screeching changed tune from unbearable to painful in mere seconds. The high caliber rounds broke the monsters apart as they fell from the hole raining down like a plague. Then they came from the tunnel. We were going to die down here, so I went with my last resort. I deactivated the armors safety features and set the spark battery to overload. I ejected from my armor, and it violently tossed me against the disgusting ground. I scrambled to the armor and grabbed the satchel, I prayed for the first time in my life, as I wrapped my fetlock around one of the sticks and snapped the top off with my other hoof.

Yes!

The cave was flooded by a red phosphorus light, I tossed the flare on Lighthouse’s remains, and I grabbed Thyme. I threw her on my back and galloped out as fast as my legs would carry me. My heart was pounding painfully against my chest, while every nerve in my body was alive with adrenaline. They gave chase almost right away, and Celestia above, I hope most of the bastards stay behind to die!

Of course, my luck didn’t hold up, I could hear them nipping at my hooves. Without the power of my armor, I wasn’t nearly as fast as I hope I would be. I grabbed another flare, struck it against the cave wall, and flooded the cave with red lighting. I grasped the flare in my mouth and poured on whatever energy I could muster into galloping. With ragged breaths, I burst out from the cave. The flare holding out of a few more minutes started to fizzle. The monsters at my hooves screeched, and maybe being hunted was driving me crazy, but I swear I could hear the glee in their disgusting yell. I looked back, and I dropped the flare in my mouth. I moved to the aside, then started to zig-zag. Goop strings flew past me, shot out of their arching tails.

I struck another flare against a tree, shadows danced above me, and the ground gave beneath me. I didn’t get the chance to yell. Thyme and I both rolled down into a ravine before landing painfully on the rocky bottom. I rolled to my back, noting once more the lack of light. God damn tree cover went on forever! These bastards could hunt here with impunity. I rolled on to my stomach, and pain shot up my right foreleg.

“Grrr!” I gritted my teeth and sat up on my haunches, the flare in my mouth landed a few feet away. I tried to stand until a tremor rocked the ground. The leaves shook violently as if crying in fear when the ground erupted just east of us, cracks snaked across the floor, and eventually, the earth caved in creating several dips. I fell on my hurt leg, but the smirk on my muzzle made the pain bearable.

That’s right, eat shit and die assholes!

CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK

Fuck, that’s right; we weren’t alone; I scooted against the ground standing wasn’t an option, my back legs were killing me. I gritted my teeth, sliding towards the satchel. I grabbed a flare and popped one tossing it next to the one already lit. That should keep the buggers at bay. “Thyme!” I groaned, scrunching my nose, and Celestia above the pain on my foreleg was like having nails hammered into my hoove. I managed to scoot myself over to her fallen form. I sat on my haunches and propped her up against my chest.

She’s small and weighs like a feather, hardly a soldier’s physique.

I cracked a wry grin, an odd thing to focus on right now. But I think I knew this was how it was going to end. Something inside me either gave up or realized I walked into my death when I went into that hive. Still, I’m going to draw out my shitty fate, and Thymes as long as possible. I reached into the satchel and cracked open the last few flares. I tossed them around us, and I held Thyme close to my chest. It wasn’t much, but I’m going to use everything I have left to protect her. Even if she followed me into death right after. I at least hoped they just killed us, not drag us back to some other dark pit.

The first of the flares flickered, dimming the red hue around us. Maybe sensing our impending demise, Thyme moaned pityingly in my arms, she subconsciously pressed herself against the warmth of my chest. Well, perhaps she won’t feel any pain, and she’ll die unconscious. I glared at the shadows just outside the reach of the flares. The creature's yellow eyes glared at us; they seem to shine with a predatory gleam. I think I might have pissed myself again, but with the end in sight, I don’t think I felt the fear I once felt. Acceptance came with its own brand of bravery and a numbing of the senses.

Click click click click click

Another light source flickered, dimming our safe heaven. Why they didn’t shoot the goop at us and attacked us was beyond me. Maybe the things were sentient enough to enjoy the wait, hoping to watch us squirm. Then again, instincts, probably told them if they shot the goop at me I’d shove one of these flares in their mouths. They knew I was cornered, and once my last defense was down, they were going to move in for the kill.

Another flare flickered out, dimming our heaven and the screeched eagerly. A few stepped into the light only to hiss back in pain. I shuddered and gently rubbed circles Thyme’s forehoof, Celestia this wasn’t how I wanted to die. Shit, I didn’t want to die period. Damn it all, my breath started to come out in short and shallow gasps. Just brave the light and make it quick already, you whoresons. Let me and Thyme die quickly; if there is any mercy left in this damn world, let it be quick. Two more flares went out, the last one looked to be dying as well. A small light encroached by shadows most foul, shit, maybe I should have been a poet instead of a soldier. Might have been killed in a less shit way. Or not killed at all, but beggars can’t be choosers.

CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK CLICK

Their disgusting grunts and screeches were now so damn close. In the paleness of the fading red light, I could catch their carapace clinking together. Their tails arched ready for a strike, or a shot of that damn goop. I closed my eyes and held Thyme tighter, I didn’t have the balls to stare the bastards in the face when the time came.

The screeches became terrible out of nowhere. Shrill and painful, and as I squeezed my eyes shut, I couldn’t help but feel the pressure of light against them. The sting was very familiar, a pain from spending so much time in the shadows. My chest was filled altogether with a light, almost pleasant feeling. Hope, it was something I only ever felt when rising out of the bloodiest battles and the direst of situations. But there was no way, this feeling had to be a trick. But, against the dread, against fear and resignation, I cracked my eyes open. The light was so bright and phosphorous I put my good hoof up to my face to look at the source. A flare, but this wasn’t survival flares; these were used back in the war in the thick jungles of the Zebra Empire. They'd be shot into the air, and they’d burst like a brilliant sun.

For the monsters, it might as well be the sun in all its mighty glory. The rotten bastards convulsed and climbed over each other in the vain attempt to escape the sundering light. But it was useless, their carapace boiled, giving off an acrid smoke, others combusted before writhing and curling in on themselves. The furthest of the creatures started to scurry back into the forest. Leaving smoking trails in their wake. Their retreat was promptly cut off by explosive fireballs blasting them apart and cooking the rest. I knew those explosions, they were Equestrian HEAT incendiary burst grenades. Deadly weapons used for the heavy jungle warfare on the Imperial front.

My neck almost snapped when I whipped so fast to the opposite side of the ridge. Eight majestic figures, with their dark armor making them pop in the mesmerizing light. They lowered their stances, and reality came rushing back to me.

Oh shit!

I ducked and put myself atop Thyme just as the gunfire started. Heavy machinegun fire and grenade explosions drowned out the screams of the dying monsters. Wet chunks of bug meat splattered against my back, along with the dust of stone being cracked and rendered to dust from explosions and armor-piercing bullets. I flattened my ears against my skull in a vain attempt to avoid tinnitus.

Then like a storm cloud coming and going, it stopped. The explosions, the heaving of the ground, and the screeches. An eery quiet settled for a few dragging seconds. I almost thought I went deaf until the moaning sounds of the bugs started. The sky flare died out, and beams of light filled the darkness. The eight mighty armors of war slid down into our ravine, now a graveyard for the blasted monsters. They scanned the area, shooting anything that still dared to live after their impressive display of firepower.

“H.Q, this is Ripley, I got two survivors. Moving to secure them for extraction.” A metallic female voice barked in front of me. I stared up at the Ranger, squinting through her bright headlamp.

“Understood H.Q, have a medical team on standby, they look wounded.” The headlamp went off, and the helmet opened. Curly hair burst from the helm with dark brown eyes staring down at me.”Don’t worry, Crusader, we're taking you home.”

I smiled, it was one of those smiles that cracked your face and hurt. A booming laugh tore itself from my belly, and I hugged Thyme to me with my good Fetlock. She moaned something incoherent, and her eyes fluttered open. Her pupils struggled to focus before she fell unconscious again in my arms.

Rest up kid, let's get you home.

Author's Note

By ValiantKnight

I is for Inclement Weather, when it gets cold or dark or rainy wear a sweater!

Cold air nipped at her dripping nose like a bloatsprite with an appetite, howling wind tearing at her thick outer garments like a lusty raider. Her eyes were stung as she squinted up against the storm, trying to shield them with a shivering hoof to little effect. All that lay before her was dull white darkening slowly to dull gray; that told her the sun was setting.

Already she was too cold to think about her plummeting chances of surviving through the blizzard, let alone through the night. If she didn’t find shelter soon someone (or perhaps something) would find her frozen solid by the morning, if she was ever found at all...

Perhaps she would be claimed in the next layer of permafrost until the globe decided to warm again or some future civilization excavated her corpse. What would they think? she wondered. Some barbaric creature from a long-forgotten age? Would she wind up stuffed and put on display in some museum? Or perhaps they would have the technology to resurrect her from the dead? Wouldn’t that be something! Her lips cracked as she allowed herself a stupid grin.

No! She bit down hard on her lip, drawing herself to the bitter present. She couldn’t let her mind wander! She needed to concentrate, see through the hypothermia! Concentrate! Put one hoof in front of the other! One hoof in front of the other...one hoof...one...hoof…

The snow was warm as she crumpled into it, so very warm! She could rest here, she realized, and wait out the storm! The snow would keep her nice and comfy, she could drift off to sleep and…

The darker shape against the stormy gray snapped her out of her crumbling haze, pumping cold adrenaline into her system. “Threat!” her body screamed at her, launching her to her hooves. Her lush-green magic fumbled with her pistol, breath coming out in frigid gasps as she tried to find the holster’s safety catch.

She spat out a swear as she fought with her holster, all the while expecting the blizzard beast to leap out. Teeth bared, claws unsheathed, tentacles squirming...yet all the while the darker shape stood still, unwavering in the howling onslaught of the blizzard.

It took her cold-addled brain a moment to process that it wasn’t a threat, her magic dying on her horn as she realized what she was seeing: a cave!

With newfound vigor she plowed her way through the cold snow, knowing that if she stopped she would never start again. The dark shape grew in her squinting vision, the howling getting louder as if the blizzard knew its meal was about to escape!

Then her hooves stumbled over hard stone, nearly sending her crashing to the ground.

Instant relief washed over her. The temperature wasn’t any higher inside the cave, but the lack of icy wind may as well have been a hot shower to soothe her woes.

Taking a moment to bask in the mouth of the cave helped her regain her senses, and this in turn reminded her that her troubles weren’t over yet.

Her clothing was still frigid and stiff, her body below its normal temperature allowances. If she couldn’t warm up she would still find herself very much dead. On top of that, caves in the wasteland were rarely devoid of dangerous things and if she had managed to locate it, who (or what) else might have? Raiders and bandits? Perhaps something far worse? She couldn’t relax just yet…

With her mental faculties returning she unstrapped and unholstered her pistol: a weathered, old ten millimeter semi-automatic. The sights wavered in front of her nose, weapon held tight in her maw (she didn’t dare hold the weapon in her glowing magic for fear of illuminating her position) as she tip-toed further in.

She stopped briefly before a quick bend, wiping her dripping nose and sniffing at the air.

There was no stench of rotting flesh or dung that might indicate the presence of a lurking predator, just the musty, mildewy scent of cold, cave air. That was a good start.

Her ears twitched as she pulled back her parka hood, swiveling towards the deeper bowels of the cave.

The howling sound of the blizzard echoed from deep within, a beast challenging the call of the one outside. Other than that, there was a wet drip-drip of water somewhere within.

She was about to slip her hood back up when a sharp sound met her ears: a soft click-clack of stone on stone. There was another hushed sound: a low grumbling, that followed briefly before another quick click-clack!

Taking a quiet breath, she tossed a glance to her weapon, noting the red loaded-chamber indicator and cocked hammer. She toggled the safety on and off with her tongue to ensure her weapon was ready before poking her head out around the corner.

Her eyes quickly adjusted and she saw a solitary, black shape lurking in the darkness ahead of her. It grumbled quietly, making the sharp click-clack noise that had gotten her attention. For a moment her eyes strained in the dark until she beheld a shaggy, hunched outline against the shadows of the cavern.

It swayed slowly, making a sudden jerking motion each time the click-clack echoed through the cave.

Carefully, she lifted a forehoof and set it out around the corner. Then the second forehoof, then one hind hoof, then the other—

Her hind leg slipped on a hooffull of loose pebbles, sending them clattering as she stumbled and regained her balance. She felt her heart skip a beat as the sound echoed through the gaping maw of the cavern.

The solitary shape lurched in the darkness, spitting out a snarl as she leapt back around the corner. She levelled her weapon, taking it in her magic with her cover now blown and waiting for the beast to leap around the corner and—

“Who goes there!?” A stallion’s voice called out from around the corner. There was the sound of a rifle’s action being worked and a clatter of hooves as he no doubt found cover.

On one hoof she was relieved that the figure was just a pony, but on the other she knew that didn’t necessarily mean she was in the clear. In this day and age ponies could be just as deadly as any beast. Thus, she kept her weapon ready.

“I’m just here looking for shelter from the storm!” She called.

“Well look for it elsewhere, this cavern’s taken!” He spat back.

“Please! I can’t go back out there!” She shook her head, keeping eyes and ears focused on the corner, hoping against hope he wouldn’t try and rush her, “I won’t be a bother, please! I barely made it here in the first place! I’ll die out there!”

“Not my problem!” He countered.

“You don’t exactly have that kind of leverage here!” She tried vinegar where honey had failed, “I’ve got you around a corner and against a dead end! You’ve nowhere to go!”

“I’ve got you dead to rights if you come around that corner!” He didn’t budge, spitting vinegar right back at her, “Your ass will be illuminated if you come around, mine will be against darkness. You lose that encounter!”

She cast her eyes quickly to the dull light streaming in past the storm behind her. Damnit, he was right! “I’m not leaving!” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Well you’re not coming around that corner!”

“Damnit!” She hissed to herself.

While she wouldn’t admit it to the stallion, she was still at growing risk of hypothermia in her frozen clothes in this frigid air. She needed to get further into the cave, remove her outer garments, and try to warm up however she could. But with the stallion in her way—and especially in her drained state—that was a near-impossibility.

The blizzard howled outside, the only sound for some time as she shivered miserably. She needed to make a move, but how? The stallion wouldn’t budge and he was right about having her dead to rights if she came around the corner. Maybe if she had one of those fancy pipbucks with its SATS capabilities...but she didn’t. There had to be another way, she just needed to think and...wait a moment…

“That clicking,” she spoke to herself as the sound suddenly clicked in her head: flint striking steel, “was he trying to spark a fire?”

“You still there!?” The stallion called out.

“I told you I’m not leaving!” She snapped back with a growl, considering her words and calming herself for a moment, “There’s no sense in us killing each other!”

“Agreed, now leave!” He countered, still not budging from his position.

“And what?” She spoke up, a small smile working its way across her face, “Leave you to freeze as well? Or were you having fun trying to get that flint and steel to work?”

For once there was no immediate reply from the stallion.

“You still there?” She sent his words back at him.

“You got a light or something?” His harsh tone softened just a bit.

“Something like that…” she let her words hang in the air like a baited hook.

“Pass it here,” he paused, “If you’re telling the truth, you can come around.”

“I can’t exactly saw off my horn and throw it to you,” she called back, “Even if I could it wouldn’t do you any good!”

“Well, what do you propose, then!?” He grumbled.

“A truce!” Her answer was immediate, “We get nowhere but dead sitting here freezing our butts off and we get nowhere but dead shooting at each other and bleeding out on the floor.

“So how about this: we holster our weapons, I come light your fire, and we both get to survive the night. We can go our separate ways in the morning with all limbs and bullets accounted for.”

“How do I know you won’t just shoot me the second you’re around that corner?” He asked, though his voice lacked conviction.

“Because right now all I care about is getting warm and surviving the night,” she countered, “Besides, you’ve still got the drop on me from back there...or are you just bluffing with an unloaded weapon?”

Again the stallion was silent for a spell.

“You still th—” she started.

“Yes, fine!” He snapped, “Come around, I won’t shoot.”

“Here goes nothing,” she said to herself, taking a quick breath and holstering her pistol, “All right, I’m coming around! My weapon’s holstered!”

Trotting slowly around the corner, she froze when she saw the stallion leaned against a rock. His rifle was pointed right at her face, mouth gripping the firing mechanism for his battle saddle. For a moment her resolve faltered, terror gripping her heart as she expected to get a face-full of lead, but then the stallion released the mechanism and trotted over to a pile of logs and tinder. He jerked his head towards it with a grunt, and she saw he was shivering just as bad as she was.

Wasting no time, she lowered her horn to the woodpile and sparked her magic. For all his lack of skill at starting fires, the stallion did know how to prepare them as the kindling lit quickly and the logs shortly thereafter.

“Thank Celestia,” the stallion muttered, hunkering down as close as he could without getting burned. He peeled off his outer layers, revealing rippling muscle and a clear lack of horn or wings. Under his parka he had a steel blue coat, eyes the color of well-shined brass, and a gunmetal gray mane.

“She’s not the one who saved our butts,” she replied, sitting on the opposite side of the flames and likewise peeling off her outer garments. Her own coat was a sunset orange, with icy blue eyes and a ruddy mane.

The stallion gave her a quiet grunt, scowling at her across the flames. She felt that was all she’d get as way of thanks and, for the moment, she could care less. All that mattered now was the warmth of the crackling flames seeping into her flesh, melting away the chill that had nearly claimed her life.

“Thanks for not shooting me,” she said, shrugging off her saddlebags for use an an impromptu pillow.

“I would’ve if your gun was out,” he replied simply, settled on his stomach with his eyes never leaving her, “I’m no raider.”

“Thank goodness for that,” she smiled, feeling quite comfy with the flames warming her hooves, “I’m Native Dancer.”

“Wrought Iron,” he grunted back.

“Well if it’s not raiding you’re into then what do you do, Wrought Iron?” Dancer asked.

“Why do you care?” Iron answered her question with another.

“Honestly? The wasteland’s filled with enough strife, enough hate and malcontent between ponies,” Dancer spoke after letting the fire flicker in her eyes for a moment, “We murder, we rape, hell some ponies even eat each other! A little conversation, getting to know each other, brings people together. The closer we’re brought together, the less likely we are to fall into the vices of the present.”

“What the hell are you, some kinda pacifist?” Iron’s eyes flickered to her gun, “Or just a hypocrite?”

“Me? Neither. I’m in the herding and farming business. Family tradition, been at it for generations now,” she gave her holstered pistol a pat, “And this thing’s just for those ponyfolk who aren’t as cordial as you.”

“What’s a farmer doing up north?” Iron seemed to find that fishy, eyes narrowing across the flames, “Not much farming or livestock up here.”

“No, there isn’t, and that’s exactly why I was up here,” Dancer smiled, “Someone’s gotta sell them their food, and that’s where I come in; I was getting a purchase agreement signed. We cart up salted meats and pickled vegetables, ponies give us a set amount of caps. Better than selling in a market where people can haggle because the prices and amounts are fixed and agreed upon. No food waste, no short sales, all profit.”

“Fair enough,” Iron admitted, “You have a copy on you?”

Dancer snorted, “You really think I’m dumb enough to go waltzing through a blizzard with a signed contract worth more than both our hides tanned together? No, my copy got sent back home through magical fire, probably arrived hours ago.”

“So then what are you doing ‘waltzing through a blizzard?’” Iron’s eyes remained narrowed.

“Yeesh, who are you? Mr. Twenty Questions?” Dancer rolled her eyes.

“I’m pretty sure you were trying to sneak up on me back there little miss ‘let’s all just get along,’” Iron pointed back towards the howling mouth of the cave, “That doesn’t exactly instill trust among ponies.”

“I was trying to make sure there wasn’t anything about to jump out and eat me if I decided to seek shelter in the cave,” she defended herself, scoffing at his tone, “What was I supposed to do, call out nicely not to be eaten alive? Don’t tell me you just trotted up in here without any regard for your safety.”

Iron gave a gruff snort, casting his eyes back towards the entrance of the cave.

“Look all you want, that storm’s gonna last on through the night no matter how hard you glare. So how about a little game to break the ice?” Dancer changed the subject, “You ever play two truths and a lie?”

“No,” Iron grunted, eyes returning to hers.

“Well it’s simple, I tell you three things. Two of them are the truth, the third is a lie, not necessarily in that order,” she began, “For example: the sky is blue, the earth is round, and fire is cold.”

“That’s two lies; the sky isn’t blue,” Iron raised a brow, clearly picking fact from fiction.

“It is above the cloud cover,” Dancer countered, “Look, bad example, whatever. You’re allowed to ask questions, grill me on each of the statements to see how good a liar I am. Training round over,” she rolled back onto her stomach, proppering her head on her hooves as she took on a serious look across the fire, “I know what ice cream tastes like, I’ve never been shot before, and my dad killed the first colt who kissed me.”

“And I can ask questions?” Iron gave her a suspicious glare.

“Anything you want, not just yes or no answer ones, but I don’t have to tell the truth,” Dancer grinned back at him, “It’s your job to test my stories and pick the facts from the fiction.”

“Easy enough,” Iron took a moment to shift his weight, “What does ice cream taste like?”

“Thick and creamy, pretty good, though it gave me a bit of a stomach ache and it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to eat in this cold.”

“Where did you eat it?” Iron searched her face.

“Northtrot, same little village I got the contract signed in. A yak cow was selling it, fresh made apparently.”

“What, in the street markets or one of the restaurants? What’d this yak look like, what was her name?”

“No restaurants I could make out in Northtrot, she was a street vendor,” Dancer took a moment to think...or recall, “She was set up at one of the stalls, light brown hair all braided like they do, her name was Else or Elspet or something.”

“Hmm,” Iron’s eyes reflected the fire’s light as they searched Dancer’s face, “You not getting shot’s easy enough to prove,” he finally said, giving his head a jerk, “Show me you don’t have any bullet scars.”

“What, you want to see me naked? Most bucks at least buy me dinner first, Wrought Iron,” Dancer gave him a lewd grin, “Whatever the case, not a question!”

“If I ask you if you have any bullet scars, you could just lie about it!” Iron countered.

“Or I could tell you the truth,” she gave a quick gesture towards herself, “Maybe I really haven’t ever been shot!”

Wrought Iron made a low grumbling sound, glaring at her across the fire for a moment.

“So who was your first kiss, then?” Wrought Iron asked, “How’d your father kill him?”

“Not going to ask why?” Dancer gave her mane a quick flick.

“I know how fathers can be.”

“Oh, so my father was the one at fault?” Dancer took on a defensive tone, “It wasn’t the colt that was to blame?”

“You tell me,” Wrought Iron spoke after a moment’s thought.

“Well, the colt stole my first kiss for one,” Dancer answered, her own grin folding into a frown, “For second, he tried to make it all the way to home plate shortly thereafter with or without my permission. Chased me home trying to do it, too! Dad didn’t take too kindly when he opened the door and saw the little bastard trying to deflower his daughter and the rest, as they say, is history.”

“How’d he kill him, then?”

“Knife,” Dancer drew a hoof across her own throat, “It wasn’t very quick, though.”

“It never is with a blade,” Iron spoke as if from experience, letting the fire crackle for a moment, “I’ll bet you’ve got a bullet scar somewhere under there,” he jerked his head towards her clothes.

“Is that your final answer?” Dancer took a breath and let her easy smile sneak back across her face.

“Yes,” Iron grunted with a nod.

“You’re wrong, then,” Dancer’s smile split into a victorious grin, Iron’s scowl deepening, “It was my mother who killed the colt, not my father. The best kind of lie is the one seeded with the truth.”

“So it wasn’t an outright lie, that hardly seems fair!” Iron grumbled.

“It wasn’t the truth,” Dancer shrugged, “I don’t make the rules. Whatever the case, it’s your turn. Tell you what, you tell me what it is you do followed by two lies about what you do. Makes it even harder for me.”

“Travelling repair pony,” Iron gave her a single answer with his continued glare, not interested in playing her game.

“Oh, come on! Don’t be such a spoilsport!” Dancer switched to a good-natured smile, though again she was forced to frown as Iron got up and pulled his outer garments back on, “Where are you going?”

“Tend the fire, we’ll need more wood to keep it burning all night,” he answered, looking down at his chest as he zippered up.

“And you’re just going to go waltz out there and get some, huh?” Dancer raised a brow.

“I saw a tree,” was all the information he gave her, checking his rifle and making his way towards the howling entrance, now nearly black with the sun beyond the horizon.

“Or for the love of...it was just a stupid game!” Dancer got to her hooves, catching up to him, “Getting yourself frozen out there—”

“It’s not about the stupid game, we legitimatly need more wood if we’re going to survive the night. That fire’s maybe got another hour or two before it’s cold soot and ash,”he turned around, pointing towards the flickering flames, “So unless you plan on keeping your horn lit all night…”

“Alternatively, we could share body heat,” Dancer said, getting a pair of rolled eyes and a scoff, “Oh come on. We’re both adults, don’t need to make it awkward. I won’t touch you if you don’t touch me.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Iron replied, stepping out into the blizzard.

“Come back!” Dancer called out, stopping short of the cave’s entrance.

She got no response.

“Damnit,” she grumbled, sulking back to the fire.

And sulk she did for some time, now and then getting up to pace back and forth both for warmth and out of boredom.

Her eyes darted frequently to the fire, watching as it chewed up the logs Wrought Iron had brought along. Perhaps it had been a good idea to go get more...but where was he?! He hadn’t dipped out on her, there’d be no way to survive more than an hour or two outside now that night had fallen. No, at this point he was probably lost and freezing to death.

She could, of course, just leave him. She didn’t owe him anything, after all, but he was right about the fire. It wouldn’t last until daybreak, they needed more firewood or they needed warm bodies. Alone, she was just as dead as he might be already...

“Damnit!” She eventually snarled, slipping into her outer garments.

Her saddlebags were left behind, they’d only slow her down and offered nothing worthwhile to combat the blizzard. She hated leaving them behind, but she’d either die out there with Wrought Iron or she’d manage to return with him in tow. Either it wouldn’t matter or she’d see them again soon.

Thrusting herself out into the clutches of the blizzard was awful. Howling wind blinded her with snow, not that she could see anything anyways. Instantly, she craved the warmth of the fire and the shelter from the wind that the cave provided. She had to tear herself away from the cave like a junkie kicking a fix.

With some effort, she lit up her horn with bright flames the same color as her magic, providing a modicum of warmth and a small speck of light. Most of what she illuminated were the snowflakes flying sideways across her vision, hiding the white of fallen snow and the deadly black of night.

“Wrought Iron!” She cried out with all she had, knowing it probably wasn’t enough, “Wrought Iron!”

She squinted back, spotting a soft glow of light from the fire in the cave. She shuddered at the thought of not finding her way back as she turned away and began to force her way into the storm.

She cried out again and again, the cold seeping into her coat, creeping up her limbs. She hardly felt anything when she tripped in the snow. By now she’d lost the energy to swear, picking herself up and preparing to shout again.

But then the snow shifted beneath her. She leapt back with a scream, fearing a crevasse or some kind of snow beast.

It was neither.

“Wrought Iron!” She spotted his parka hood above the snow. He was moving, but only a little and very sluggishly.

Wasting no time, she tore at the snow with numb limbs, waving her horn’s flames (carefully!) above him. She just needed the light, she didn’t want to set him ablaze. He mumbled something incomprehensible as she finally unearthed him, the blizzard doing its best to entomb them both.

“Can you walk!?” she yelled in his ear, “Wrought Iron, can you walk!?”

She couldn’t tell whether he was nodding his head or shivering, but after a stumble or two she was able to guide him along. Dancer wanted to assure herself that the hard part was over, but finding the cave again would be no easier than finding Wrought Iron.

It was hard to travel in a straight line in a blizzard, with no point of reference and screaming wind the senses could be fooled into making one trot in circles. Dancer recalled stories of ponies leaving their homes for the outhouse just across their yard and being found frozen solid the next morning.

Dancer let out a shout when Iron crumbled back into the snow, dragging her down with him. Panic gripped her when he refused to get back up, leaning in to try and lift him.

“...so warm…” she thought she heard him mumble.

“Get up!” Dancer screamed at him, pulling at his saddlebags, “You need to get up!”

Iron stirred, looking dazed and squinting against the blizzard’s sharp snow. As Dancer continued to pull at his saddlebags, one came open and revealed freshly chopped lumber. He’d done it! They would have enough wood to last the night!

Then Dancer froze, and not from the cold swarming all around her.

Wrought Iron had done it. He’d chopped enough wood to keep the fire burning all night. But right now, in the present tense, he was a burden to her. He’d done his part, she could easily cart the wood back and leave him here to freeze.

The thought came from the depths of her mind, the crude and oftentimes cruel place where survival instinct lay. Wrought Iron had outstayed his usefulness, if she didn’t take the wood and leave him now she’d die here with him. She was no good to anyone dead, least of all her—

Dancer flinched when Iron’s hoof latched onto her own, drawing her back to the icy present.

She looked down at him, finding his eyes locked onto hers with a pleading look in them. Her forehoof was poised above his opened saddlebags, betraying her inner thoughts.

It was now or never!

Reaching out with her magic, she grabbed the straps of his saddlebags and yanked hard. She grit her teeth against the strain, ceasing her magical flame briefly to focus solely on the telekinetics.

Wrought Iron struggled only briefly before he was yanked to his hooves and her magic faded from him, flaring back up as a bright flame.

“No more stops!” She yelled against the blizzard. Again, she couldn’t tell if Iron gave her a nod or was just shivering, “All-Mother guide me,” she hissed to herself, plodding on through the thick snow.

Hope was fading fast with her core temperature and she feared Iron was about to collapse for the last time when a spark of orange caught in her peripherals. She turned, squinting to focus and...there!

“I think I see the cave!” Dancer yelled in Iron’s ear, pointing him towards the sight.

She wasn’t sure he heard her as she all but dragged him along. His body was on autopilot, head low and eyes rolling.

“Just a little further!” she yelled, hoping against hope that she was right, that what she’d seen was salvation and not just a trick of the light.

It was salvation.

Dancer could’ve kissed the dark rock of the cave as she stumbled into it, Iron collapsing beside her. His breath still frosted out his lips, but she wasn’t sure he was shivering anymore.

“You’re not dying on me now!” Dancer declared, using her magic to drag him around the bend where the orange glow of their fire was coming from.

She set him up next to the fire pit, unclipping his saddlebags and tossing a log into the embers. With some help from her magic it burst into flames, filling the cave with another few degrees of warmth.

In Dancer’s state it made all the difference.

With the fire sorted out, she turned to Iron. His outer garments were frozen to his form, white frost and snow clinging to him. He mumbled something and she slapped his hooves away as he tried to clumsily help her get them off.

With his outer garments off she was able to check his hooves and face for frostbite, breathing a sigh of relief when she found nothing irreversible.

“You’re still hypothermic,” she told him, pulling his sleeping bag over and starting to undress, “It was a suggestion earlier, now it isn’t. Strip to your skivvies and crawl inside, I’ll be joining you shortly.”

Whether he was in agreement or just too cold to care, Dancer didn’t know, but she was thankful that he didn’t protest as she placed the logs within easy telekinesis range. With that accomplished, she stripped to her woolen underwear, shivering briefly in the cave air.

Iron’s flesh was cold against hers when she slipped into the sleeping bag with him, but he had started shivering again so that was a good sign. Dancer took his forehooves in her own, pressing them against the warm fur of her chest. She didn’t dare rub the flesh to try and warm him faster in case there was any frostbite she had missed, doing so would cause even more damage.

So here they lay, fire crackling contentedly away while the blizzard’s howling echoed in from outside. Iron’s hooves warmed against her chest, his shivering ceasing as his core temperature returned to normal.

Iron had dozed off shortly after she had joined him, he awakened when Dancer tossed another log into the flames. A cascade of sparks reflected in her eyes, arcing up and flickering out of existence.

“Thanks,” Iron cleared his throat, “Thanks for coming after me, for not leaving me out there.”

“I’d have been dead if you didn’t return,” Dancer tried to play it off.

Iron’s eyes darted between her own, “Hiding a lie in the truth again? I might’ve been on death’s doorstep, but I saw that look in your eye when you saw the firewood. You could’ve taken it and left me for dead.”

“I considered it,” Dancer glanced away as she admitted it, “But I meant it when I said the wasteland’s filled with enough strife between ponies. Hate and fear aren’t the way things are supposed to be.”

“Well thanks, I…” Iron trailed off suddenly, glancing down between them with an embarrassed look. He tried to cross his hind legs, but stuffed in the sleeping bag with Dancer it was far too late.

Dancer fixed him with a lewd grin, “Is that a sledge in your skivvies or are you just happy to see me?”

“Er...sorry,” he mumbled, trying to shift politely away, “Close proximity and all…” She was certain that it was a blush and not frostbite that started coloring his face a rosy red, “You don’t need to keep me company anymore if you don’t want.”

“What if I do?” she asked, her magical aura lighting up between them as she slipped off her underwear. She leaned in and pressed her lips to one of his ears, “Now would be the ideal time to check me for bullet scars...”

In spite of his best efforts, Iron found none.

Author's Note

Made by Salted Pingas

J is for jaws of steel, which hunt you but not for a meal

Trembling with excitement, Mikaella gingerly unfolded the cloth wrappings and gazed in admiration at the staff before her. Having been soaked in a solution overnight, the shaft now gleamed with varnish. She lifted it, leaning in close to study the grain and appreciate the staff.

"Wow…" Mikaella murmured.

Behind her came a rich voice. "It may bend, it may flex, but that staff will never break."

Mikaella nodded. This weapon had come so far, once a mere fallen cypress limb. Under the tutelage of her mentor and guardian, Xurabi, the large branch had been stripped of its bark and carved down. The work had lasted many days, but after enough chiseling and whittling to dull two blades and carpet their tent floor with shavings, the piece took shape into an elegant stave.

Xurabi's alchemical expertise had then produced a solution in which the staff bathed for two days. Now, sitting on the ground in front of Mikaella, it had become a proper tool of defense. Still, it wasn't quite complete in the young zonkey’s eyes.

"You think Live Wire could help?" Mikaella asked as she turned to Xurabi.

The zebra inclined her head. “From what I have heard, yes, he has the expertise. Have you asked Z-”

“No, I’m not even gonna try asking Zee,” Mikaella quickly interjected. “I’m shocked he doesn’t walk me to and from the lavatory...”

“He only wishes the best for you. Do not blame him for being protective.”

Mikaella had already started to pack a saddlebag. “Yeah, well, either way it’s easier to ask him for forgiveness than for permission. And it’ll only be a day or so; if I’m quick he might not even notice I’m gone.”

“I will not go out of my way to inform him, but I will not lie on your behalf, either, Mika,” Xurabi reminded.

“Yeah, I know.” One healing potion, some bandages, and Mikaella’s entire savings of three hundred and eighteen caps went into her saddlebag. Hoping those would be more than enough, she slung the bag across her back and fit the staff snugly against it. “If he busts me later, then so be it.”

Mikaella’s hoof pulled aside a tangle of creepers that obscured the entrance sign reading ‘Everglimmer Estates.’ The once-pristine suburban neighborhood was now a desolate and overgrown landscape of splintered house frames covered in copious overgrowth. Mikaella recognized the destructive signature of a hurricane had ripped a path through the area, laying waste to everything in its path. What had once been expensive dwellings complete with white picket fences were now rotting away and embraced by nature. One house had been speared through the front door by a tree.

As Mikaella trotted down the lane, she noted the small zappers that lined the road, which she recognized from those that lined the defensive walls of the city of Divide. Each contraption was a collection of slowly-spinning blue crystals, crackling with magical energy. At their bases were collections of ash piles and the fried carcasses of goremoths and bloatsprites. The zappers led down the street to a large ruin filled with some sort of green glow, standing out in bright relief against the twilight-darkened woods.

Nearing, Mikaella recognized that the glow was generated by hundreds of small balefire flies. Their abdomens pulsed with light, and Mikaella didn’t need a rad counter to know that the swarm was enveloped in radiation. They congregated around a collection of floodlights strung up around the center of the foundation, above a trapdoor. Mikaella rang a bell which hung from a post just in front of the house. After a minute of waiting and two more cautious rings, she heard, “Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’!” and the trapdoor was telekinetically hoisted open.

Emerging from the basement was a decrepit ghoul. He was a unicorn, dressed in a relatively dapper tweed jacket, with a beard of fluffy moss that grew off his face. He shooed at the insects. “C’mon, get! I have company!” The bugs did not seem too keen on heeding his request, continuing to silently flutter around the hanging lights.

“Um…” Mikaella ventured, watching as the stallion groaned at the oblivious swarm and lit his horn. He telekinetically slid the lights to opposite ends of the line they hung from, and the balefire flies lazily followed. “You’re Live Wire, right?”

“That’s correct,” he answered. “What brings you to our town?”

“Our?” Mikaella repeated doubtfully. She cast a look behind her. “You’re living with others?”

“The spirits of my neighbors, of course.” Live Wire’s voice was gruff but pensive.

“I see,” responded the mare. “Well, I was hoping you could…”

“Hey, slow down. Come on in and we’ll talk shop; I don’t wanna let you get devoured by the skeeters.”

Live Wire’s basement was modestly-sized, its carpet still intact. He had converted a pool table into a workbench, upon which were piles of half-disassembled technology, including one of the bug zappers from outside. Shelves lining the walls were packed with frayed wiring, archaic terminal parts, and dusty gemstones. Above and below those were strings of multicolored gem lights, interspersed with jars of balefire flies. The combined, colorful lighting gave the basement a mystical atmosphere.

“Cozy!” Mikaella complimented.

“Pah! You shoulda seen my house before it got picked up and thrown halfway across Mulisiana. Damn negligent pegasi… I’d barely gotten any belongin’s belowground when the storm hit.”

Mikaella nodded, studying the room again. Interestingly, there was a framed diploma that was the centerpiece of the nearest wall. The ghoul noticed where the mare’s attention had been pulled to and spoke up.

“Before you ask, yeah, that degree in magical engineering is mine. I know it’s been a couple centuries since I studied for that, but…” He gestured around him, hoof lingering at his desk. “As you can see, I haven’t let it go to waste,” Live Wire rasped as he took a seat at said desk and indicated a nearby couch for Mikaella to sit on. “What can I do you for?”

Obliging his offer, Mikaella lowered herself onto the lumpy but soft couch. “I recently finished this staff, and I’d like some kind of non-lethal stun attachment for it.” She drew the weapon in question and offered it out to the unicorn, who took it in his magic.

“Non-lethal? Did I hear that right?”

“Mhm!”

“Been a long time since I got a request like that…” The stallion turned the staff over in his telekinesis, studying its design. “This is well-made. Sturdy.”

“Thanks! It’s carved from cypress, and I had help. So, I’ve been told that you were the one who designed those bug zappers around Divide’s walls. Could you build a miniature version for my staff?”

“That’s true, I did design ‘em, but they ain’t non-lethal. Those’re built to vaporize goremoths, and anypony dim enough to touch ‘em is gettin’ fried to a crisp. If they’re lucky, and I mean lucky, they’ll only lose a limb and be paralyzed for life.”

“... I see.” Mikaella paused, considering this. “Well, could you, like, build one that’s less powerful? Or that could be tuned or something?”

“I reckon it’s doable.” Wire inhaled slowly, returning the staff. “But I’ll need a magical energy weapon to build the capacitor and for a focusin’ crystal.”

"I don't suppose you have any to spare?"

Live Wire shook his head.

“So… where could I get one of those?”

“You could buy one in Divide, but they’ll cost you a foreleg and a hindleg. Wire-veins use ‘em, but they’ll shoot on sight.” The ghoul’s jaw shifted as he ground his teeth idly.

“I got the idea from my teacher,” Mikaella offered, hoping against hope that more description could help him design something with materials he had on-hoof. “She has a staff made from bamboo, and it can be loaded with gunpowder on one end. Basically a shotgun on a stick!”

“Hmm. Is your teacher around to show me this weapon?”

“No, she’s… uh… currently busy looking after our tribe.”

“You’re tribals, eh?”

“Not really. Well, we kind of are now. I’m from Neigh Orleans, she sailed here from Zebrica.”

The ghoul looked surprised. “Across the sea? Hah!” He stroked his beard slowly. “Doubt there’s much left for her in Zebrica anyway. So, you still interested in this magical staff business?”

“I am. Where can I find a… a ‘wire-vein?' ”

The ghoul narrowed his eyes. “Miss, you sure you want to hunt a synth? They shoot to kill. They don’t ask questions, they can’t be bargained or reasoned with.”

“I think I can figure something out,” Mikaella replied.

Sighing, the ghoul explained, “Well, in the past few years the modern Institute’s been known to send salvage teams out into Mulisiana, cuttin’ up metal and cleanin’ out whole towns. And since I know you’ll ask, I graduated prior to them disappearin’ and churnin’ out all those robots, so no, I can’t give you any inside information.”

“That’s alright. I just need to know where they’re at.”

“The Trash Heap isn’t too far away. There’s a strong chance you’ll find some there.”

“That’s…” Mikaella’s hoof rose hesitantly, then pointed. “... West of here?”

“Mhm, about a day’s trek. Hard to miss; you’ll smell it before you see it.” He thought for a second, then added, “I have an acquaintance who hangs around the outskirts. Former Cog, now he makes a living by salvagin’ parts from the Heap and selling them to me, Divide, Buckwater, LaFerrier, wherever. He’s a little… jumpy.” Wire trailed off for a moment, cocking his missing eyebrows. “But he’d know for sure if there’ve been synths in the area recently.”

Mikaella groaned internally. She really didn’t want to prolong her excursion any longer than was needed, but now that she’d already been gone for half a day, she might as well make the most of it. She dreaded having to explain her absence once she finally returned home. “He lives there?”

“Are we in a full moon right now?” Live Wire asked as he grabbed a small calendar from his desk and flipped through it.

Mikaella had to think for a moment, not expecting such a question. “I think it’s a crescent.”

“Three quarters?”

“Huh?”

“Is it…” The ghoul tiredly rubbed his face with a hoof. “Mostly full or mostly empty?”

“Mostly full, I believe.”

“Hm. Well, Brownie should be parked at the southwestern corner of the Trash Heap right now. He stays mobile, but since we trade parts every so often, I have his schedule.” Wire tossed the calendar back onto his desk. “This lunar cycle's schedule, anyway.”

“ ‘Parked?’ ”

“He built a wagon that can pull itself, using some old world tech he dug outta the Heap. Tends to stay on the move so he doesn’t run into the Institute or Cogs.”

“Oh,” Mikaella said. “He won’t just shoot me, right?”

Wire turned to his desk. It took him a half a minute of digging and rearranging before he turned back and offered a strange jumble of metal and wires to Mikaella. “Show him this. It’s a bit of an inside joke between us, he’ll know to trust you.” When the object was taken, he added, “And make sure you get it back to me, okay? It may be useless junk, but it’s my useless junk.”

Mikaella followed her compass west for a day. The trek was gruelling, as the ground beneath her constantly shifted between solid and soggy. Sometimes the cracked remnants of pre-war roads were her guide, other times post-war paths through the woods and floating bridges that spanned bogs. She spent the evening curled up in an overgrown wagon stop, and the next morning resumed her trip.

Live Wire’s words had been true; even still deep in woodland, Mikaella caught a whiff of foul air carried on the breeze half an hour before she first glimpsed the Trash Heap. It was a vast landfill, a dumping ground for the pre-apocalypse’s unwanted items, stretching as far as the eye could see. The rolling hills of garbage and scrap were bordered by a wide swath of dead land. Mikaella’s eyes almost watered at the powerful stench. How anyone could choose to live anywhere close to the Heap was beyond her understanding.

Referring to the compass again, Mikaella orbited the Heap while moving south. After a short while she finally spied a wagon parked amidst stacks of compacted trash on the edge of the landfill. The vehicle itself was reinforced with shiny metal plating, with no windows and a heavy refrigerator door on the side. A bulky, grimy engine with a smokestack was mounted to the rear.

The clearing it sat in was comprised of packed-in mud, dirt, and rubbish, pocked with strange prints. In front of the center of the area and in front of the wagon was some sort of large industrial crate. In cleaner days, it would've been shone with a neat white exterior with green trim. Mikaella scraped away a layer of accumulated grime to reveal the text “WHINN-E” stamped on the crate’s side.

The mare approached the wagon. Before she tentatively knocked on the wagon’s door, she took out Live Wire’s doodad.

After a couple heartbeats, a very muffled voice yelled, "Password!" from within.

"Err..." Mikaella cringed. Live Wire hadn’t warned about this. "Password?"

"Did I stutter?" Before Mikaella could respond, the voice added, "Or wait, is that your answer?"

“Uh… sure.”

"Well, it's still wrong!"

"Please?"

"That's last month's password!" Something clicked behind the door. "Last try."

"... There isn’t a password?"

"About time someone figured it out." There was another click, this time being the door’s lock rotating. "Come on in, you."

Cautiously, Mikaella stepped up and into the wagon. The first detail she noticed was the smell. It was cloyingly musty inside, tinged with oil and an unfamiliar but strong, industrial scent. The interior was equally as full of items as Live Wire’s dwelling had been, though it managed to appear more organized.

Brownie was a gaunt, auburn-coated unicorn with a wispy mane. He watched Mikaella with narrowed, calculating eyes as she presented the item from Live Wire.

“I came from-”

“Live Wire, I see.” Brownie nodded. “So what, are you collecting some parts for him? You a courier? Apprenticing under him?”

As Mikaella looked at him again, she noticed that the unicorn had a small hole that ran clean through the middle of his horn. She tried her best to keep from staring at it as she answered, “No, I’m… well, I will try to retrieve something for him, but I’m specifically looking to get some magical energy weapons.”

Brownie took a seat atop a nearby stool and inhaled. “Senile ghoul must be losing it. I don’t know what he told you, but I still don’t sell them.”

“I’m not here to buy. I’m here to ask you where I could find some synths, so I can take theirs.”

Both of the unicorn’s brows rose. “Oh…” He nodded, and the eyebrows dropped back down. “You do know that-”

“They shoot to kill on sight. Yeah. I’m still gonna hunt one down.”

His eyes creased as a smile played at his lips. “That's the spirit. I know where you can find your quarry.” Brownie stood and went to one wall, pulling open a thin slot. “That excavator through there...?”

Beckoned to peer through the gap, Mikaella squinted and was able to spy a towering machine in the distance, protruding above the sea of junk. Its shape vaguely resembled a suspension bridge with a big wheel on one end. “Mhm?”

“I use that as a landmark in this quadrant of the Heap. Yesterday I spotted a small scavenging party of synths about a klick to the east of the digger.”

“A ‘klick?’ ”

Brownie bit his lip. “About a thousand steps. They’re taking apart a boxcar I’d had my eyes on for some time now, but it seems I didn’t get to it fast enough. If I remember correctly, there’s…” He tapped his chin. “Three armed with MEWs and four equipped for material break-down and collection. I would remove them myself, but to be honest I've been too tired."

Mikaella pulled back to look at the unicorn. “I could, then.”

“I would appreciate that,” Brownie admitted. “But how exactly do you plan to take them on? With a stick?” His unimpressed eyes glanced at the weapon strapped across the zonkey’s back.

Mikaella toned down her indignation as much as she could. “That’s the plan. Though Live Wire said you could help...?”

Brownie answered by opening a nearby drawer. He levitated out three watches, all with faintly glowing stones attached to empty faces. “These electric wards should be enough to completely power down a few. I would recommend you sneak up on the long-range wire-veins and... apply these. Any synth that Whinn-E gets her TK field on is getting smooshed into a one-by-one yard cube, MEW and all.”

“Whose TK?”

Wordlessly, Brownie lead Mikaella outside. The unicorn brought with him some sort of remote, its face covered in silver switches and jerry-rigged with an antenna at the top. He looked to grimace when using his telekinesis, and Mikaella idly wondered if that had anything to do with the hole in his horn.

Aiming the remote at the crate and flipping one of the switches caused the object to shake, shudder, and then shift. It rose up on two large, powerful legs, then split two arms and a head from its frame. It whirred and turned to face the pair.

"Whinn-E 088 online. Servos active. Telekinetic coils active." It shook briefly, then settled. "Have you watered a plant today?" The synthesized voice was feminine, with a Prench accent.

"So what is it? Does it actually whinny?"

"No, that's an acronym."

"Acro… what?"

"Means each letter stands for a word. The full name is Waste Harvesting Independent Nature Nurturer; don't know what the E stands for. Excellent, maybe," Brownie chuckled, indicating the remote. "Though she isn't really independent anymore."

Mikaella watched as the robot's head swiveled regularly. "But she was, once?"

"Mhm. One of the wartime Ministries built a bunch of these and left 'em in the Heap to clean it up. Guess they were supposed to be a sign of goodwill to Mulisianans, a promise to take care of the landfill that Equestria was mostly responsible for."

There were two shiny, faintly glowing capacitors on each of Whinn-E's shoulders. One arm terminated in a scoop, the other in some sort of long, thin, metallic barrel.

"Is that…" Mikaella gestured at it. "A gun of some sort?"

"Heh, yeah, a pea shooter. Well, seed shooter is more accurate. When she cleans up trash from an area, she also deposits seeds, which I guess is the 'Nature Nurturer' part of the name. Though I have considered modifying it to accept bullets instead…”

Mikaella's brows furrowed. "But if she doesn't have a gun or anything, how can she help against the synths?"

Brownie looked at her smugly. "When I found and fixed her up, I also removed her safety subroutines. Now she'll compact anything. Trash, ponies, Cogs… and synths."

"O-oh. I see."

"Yup. That said, she'll crush the entire synth. If you want the MEWs for yourself, I'd recommend you take those ones out of commission first, then let her at the rest." He held the remote out to Mikaella. “You sure you still want to do this?”

Without hesitating, Mikaella took it and replied, “I’ve come this far.”

Brownie nodded approvingly. “Well then, this is how I’d eliminate them…”

The gentle hiss and patter of the halcyon drizzle was pierced by a harsh two-tone beep. Hollow and robotic, it was soon answered by an identical signal somewhere nearby. The noises spurred Mikaella forwards as she galloped for all she was worth through a canyon of rusted metal. Twisted roots of steel and cables burrowed through the muddy earth beneath, but the zonkey’s quick eyes led her hooves, which deftly navigated the treacherous terrain.

Attempting to blink the rain away, Mikaella chanced a quick look behind her. Over a distant hill of trash she glimpsed a blur of pale yellow light crest and then dip into the valley. Another sequence of beeps from two distinct sources behind her. Mikaella hastened her pace, turning out of a bend in the valley and struggling to ascend the slope of cast-away garbage and scrap. It was highly unsteady, and every step she took caused her to sink, in some cases up to her barrel.

She panted heavily, her sweat mixing with the downpour and further irritating her vision. Barely keeping her balance, Mikaella drew her staff and tried to steady herself with it. To her dismay, it simply plunged through the detritus. The mare stumbled, catching herself on and clinging securely to an old oven like a shipwreck survivor would cling to driftwood. Another beep rang out, so loud that it stung Mikaella’s eardrums.

Supporting herself with the staff, the mare regained her footing and launched herself forwards at a brisker pace, finally reaching the top of the junk pile. Before her, the vast landfill evened out into mostly-flat ground, dotted with small trash hills. The huge bucket excavator sat long-abandoned, its task of carving down and compacting the mountains of waste left incomplete. A large canopy was attached to one end and stretched out over Brownie’s workshop area.

Half-sliding, half-falling down towards the machine amidst a small cascade of trash, Mikaella finally broke free of the offal and was able to resume her sprint on the soggy but flat ground. Mud and puddles alike splashed up, staining her striped legs on top of the grime and unknown stains picked up from the garbage she had waded through. Fear coursed through her veins as another hunting call went out. This time it was three tones long.

Rushing to the excavator, Mikaella practically dove beneath it, sliding in the muck to rest between a set of its massive treads. She wriggled around, coating herself in the freezing mud and slime that had collected underneath the great machine. Her normally-bright legs now more closely matched her brown body, and she rubbed her head across the ground to dull her blond mane. She felt like a mud-pony.

Three pairs of yellow lights crested the last hill, all focused towards the excavator. Mikaella hunkered down in the mud while she observed them in fear, shivering and pulling the staff closer, keeping her eyes just above the edge of her hiding place. Above, the excavator creaked solemnly in the wind. A noisy miniature waterfall cascaded down the nearest corner of the huge vehicle’s base, which flowed down into Mikaella’s hideyhole. The spray was frigid and filthy.

Neither the weather nor the temperature fazed the hunters whatsoever. Each one marched towards the excavator with eerie rigidity, lightly-plated pneumatic muscles whirring and clunking. Their grey frames and off-white protective plating barely stood out beneath the dreary, overcast sky, but the bright yellow lights in their hollow eye sockets were terrifying beacons. Their faces, with frightful metal jaws stuck somewhere between a grin and a grimace, rotated and scanned for Mikaella, who retreated further back.

One of the robots obliviously trailed a plastic bag from one of its hind hooves, which whooshed every time it took a step. Another had muck covering its front and splattered over the pair of primed magical energy rifles which were attached to its side via rails. The group exchanged beeps and chirps, their indecipherable communication painfully high-pitched for Mikaella’s eardrums.

Fidgeting in her uncomfortable position, one of Mikaella’s hind hooves dipped into the swelling puddle that filled the groove. If the rain were to get any worse, she’d be submerged soon; she needed to act before the rest of the synths arrived. Her current pursuers had begun to spread out and surrounding the excavator, beeping every few seconds. Their heads swiveled back and forth frequently, casting pale yellow light across the mud and scrap around them. When the nearest machine turned its head, Mikaella took up the staff in her mouth and crept out.

The sodden zonkey began towards the far corner, sticking close to the enormous rugged treads which had once transported the trash-compacting machine around the Heap. Every step taken made Mikaella wince and slow her pace, as her hooves made slimy sucking and squishing noises in the soggy muck. Once at the end of the treads, Mikaella could hear the plastic-bag-shackled synth patrolling just out of view, generating a repeated crinkling whoosh.

Looking to an adjacent puddle, she could spy the reflected glow from the synth's eyes growing larger as it neared. Mikaella readied her weapon in a stance she had long practiced and concentrated on the rippling puddle. Her ears were both turned forwards, acutely tuned to track the synth’s position. Her muscles tensed and released with each breath as Mikaella trembled.

After a few moments, a pony skull constructed of steel entered Mikaella’s line of sight and rotated to stare directly at her, its glowing eyes bright like a pair of flashlights. Mikaella’s mud-cooled body made the synth pause momentarily to process, just enough time for the zonkey to act first.

The staff shot forwards. Aimed at a small speaker centered in the synth’s neck just below its affixed metal jaw, the weapon’s end connected. With a crunch, the voice box was flattened. A garbled bleat was all that escaped as the synth stumbled back a pace. Before it could bring its rifles to bear, Mikaella followed up with a heel kick. Her hoof struck the machine’s temple with vicious force. The hit was powerful enough to snap its neck back, leaving the head dangling awkwardly on its side.

Still active, the synth opened fire. A pair of bright blue lasers seared past Mikaella and up into the clouds. Unable to aim properly, the robot fired off several more shots. Some went straight into the mud while some impacted piles of trash a dozen yards away, igniting into sparks.

Mikaella dodged around to the side. Leaping onto the synth’s back, she used her momentum to bring her enemy falling onto its side, stiff metal limbs thrashing. She raised a hoof and pulled off one of the three watches secured to her leg. Avoiding the sharp hooves as best she could, Mikaella shoved the electricity ward as far into the synth’s chest cavity as she could reach.

All at once, the synth ceased its struggling, eyes going dark and the legs falling limply to the ground. Leaving the ward inside, Mikaella breathed a quick sigh of relief. Weeks of practice with Xurabi had honed her combat skills, and she was impressed with her own efficiency. Now with one less pursuer, Mikaella opted to scale one of the excavator’s thin staircases. The crusty metal floor beneath her creaked as she moved at a cautious trot next to the railing.

In the center of the superstructure was the excavator’s gigantic engine, as well as a compactor. Stretching out from both ends was a long conveyor belt. One end bore a titanic wheel lined with buckets, dug firmly into a mountain of garbage that it had been carving into. Piles of trash dotted the belt, and on the other side of the compactor they had been transformed into squares as tall as Mikaella. They led to a counterweight and dropoff, beneath which was a stack of cubed waste. The operator cab looked to have been pulled apart by those who had also harvested pieces from the rest of the excavator. The engine itself resembled a sugar cube that had been left with a starving pony; it was almost entirely disassembled, unevenly reduced to a lump of base components.

Mikaella located one of the synths on the ground below, moving towards the rear of the excavator. An idea sprung into her head and she grabbed a walkie-talkie from the operator cabin. She switched it on to check its functionality and was pleased to hear static hissing from its speakers. As swiftly and silently as possible, Mikaella then moved to one end of the conveyor belt. She dropped the active walkie-talkie into the mud below and then rapped her staff on the metal edge, generating a hollow ring.

The synth was drawn to investigate, chirping as it gazed at the radio and tried to comprehend the noise. Above, Mikaella wedged one end of her staff beneath the trash cube. Putting her back into it, she levered the compacted waste. It was weighty, but unevenly so, composed of as many various materials as it was. Though the staff’s shaft flexed and left a groove in the cube, Mikaella managed to shift it enough for it to tip.

Below, the synth sensed activity above. The machine had just enough time to turn its head upwards and give a surprised beep before a veritable boulder of garbage plummeted into it. When debris settled around the impact site, Mikaella could see what little remained of the synth. Its limbs had been either stoved in or awkwardly bent, reduced to a pile of twisted fiberglass, steel, and wires. The eyes flickered dimly as it struggled to stand.

Mikaella then jumped in fright as a fierce double-beep sounded. Turning her head, she could see that the last synth had witnessed her ambush and was galloping along the excavator’s side for her. Mikaella backed up just as a pair of lasers cut through the air where she’d been just moments earlier.

Retreating a safe distance from the edge, she debated her next move. There was a chance that she could simply lay low for awhile and sneak up on it. She was grateful that synths couldn’t jump; she had some time to-

Clang!

Her final opponent caught its front hooves on the railing. With whirring and whining muscles, it pulled itself up and fired again. Mikaella swiftly ducked around a corner, cursing herself for assuming she’d be safe anywhere around a synth.

Relentlessly rapid and heavy hoofsteps were approaching. Thinking quickly, Mikaella removed one of the two remaining wards from her leg and strapped it to one end of her staff. As the metal hooves closed in, she spun around the corner and swung high, aiming for the synth’s head. She had anticipated incorrectly and the staff merely glanced off the dome of the robot’s skull, though its eyes dimmed a small amount. Unable to stop her attack, the staff bounced into the excavator’s side, nearly causing Mikaella to lose her grip as it reverberated painfully.

While at too close a range, the synth still tried to take a shot. One of the beams singed Mikaella’s tail as it crackled past. Wincing in pain, Mikaella tried to circle, but the synth charged her instead, throwing its heavy body into hers. She yelped in pain and stumbled back into the railing, staff falling to the floor and rolling just out of reach. All the while, the synth was blaring a loud, repeating siren. If the workers weren’t already on their way, they certainly were now.

The next attack was aimed at Mikaella’s head. She dodged low under the strike and retaliated with a kick of her own to the synth’s chest, which she instantly regretted. Pain fired through her hoof and leg; it felt like she’d just tried kicking a wall. The machine’s body barely even rocked at the impact. Mikaella rolled out of the way of a stomp, reaching for her staff. Her hoof grazed the shaft and sent it rolling again.

The mare rose but was clipped in her side by one of the synth’s rear hooves. Mikaella screamed as she fought to maintain her balance. If she got any farther away, the synth would just switch back to its rifles. Mikaella leaned out, managing to bite onto the staff, and pulled it up to her waiting hooves. Just as the synth took a step back to properly aim its rifles, the zonkey took another swing. This time she connected with the side of the robot’s head, and the impact combined with the ward’s proximity caused the whole synth to shut off momentarily, like it had lost consciousness.

It rebooted a second later, catching itself from falling, but by that time Mikaella was on a full offensive. She delivered blow after blow, causing the synth to fall into a cycle of constant restarting. Once the synth had fallen to the floor from being stunned, Mikaella took her staff. With a fierce growl, she plunged it into one of the openings in its armor like a spear. Everything went still and quiet.

Trembling and shivering, Mikaella left her weapon protruding from the inactive synth and stumbled back onto her rump. A hoof clutched her bruised and bleeding side, wiping away as much mud from the wound as she could. Her ears still rang after the clamor of battle. She felt like laying down and resting, but knew that her task was still incomplete. The thought was punctuated by a distant series of beeps.

Exchanging her staff for the last ward, Mikaella descended the excavator and trotted briskly into the relative shelter of Brownie’s workshop. The canopy above kept her shielded from the rain, but a cool breeze still cut through the space. On a few tables that had been set up, she saw bits and pieces of scrap and presumably valuable technology sorted into piles. Around these were loose bolts and the occasional toothbrush, with bristles stained black by grease and dirt.

Whinn-E sat in the corner, folded into her inactive state. More beeps reached Mikaella’s ears as she picked up the remote and flipped the power switch.

“Come on, come on…” the zonkey begged breathlessly as Whinn-E shifted and began to unfold. Once the procedure concluded, Whinn-E delivered her introduction and swiveled her head to focus on Mikaella.

“Plastic takes a thousand years to decompose. Please recycle!”

“Yeah, okay, I will! Just…” Mikaella looked back at the remote. There were several switches which would set Whinn-E about various tasks, be it cleaning, tending to plants, or delivering an environmental lesson. She threw the one to activate Whinn-E’s self-defense mode and watched as the robot’s eyes flickered momentarily. Her frame made a whirring noise.

“Did you know that composting can reduce landfill sizes by twenty percent per year?” She made no effort to speak below the equivalent volume of a shout. Her proclamations were undoubtedly audible to the incoming synths.

“Wow! There’s, uh, there’s some litter over there!” Mikaella pointed to the front of the excavator.

Whinn-E did not acknowledge Mikaella’s words, but stomped forwards with her heavy gait. The synths’ beeping was upon them; there would be an encounter any second now. Sure enough, the first Institute machine came into view around the rear of the excavator. Mikaella ducked behind a table and watched as it emitted three short bleeps.

It advanced on Whinn-E, who turned to observe. The much larger machine prompted with “Shop using a reusable saddlebag!” and was answered by the synth kicking at her. Just like Mikaella’s kick against the synth minutes earlier, it looked pathetically ineffective. It did, however, cause Whinn-E to retaliate. She swung an arm at the synth, batting it with her scoop and knocking a few parts loose from the synth’s head.

The synth screeched and turned to buck at her, but was once again savagely struck down into the mud. This time one of its legs snapped. Whinn-E then trampled the synth, her significant bulk flattening the synth’s head and chest and finishing it off quickly.

Finally, the three remaining synths arrived and rushed to the defense of their ally. These reinforcements were armed with a buzzsaw, cutting torch, and a jackhammer. All three immediately recognized Whinn-E as a threat and beeped aggressively as they surrounded her. The buzzsaw blade and jackhammer skimmed off of Whinn-E’s thick plating, while the cutting torch left a black scorch mark but did not set her ablaze.

In response to the attempts on her wellbeing, the two capacitors on her shoulders lit up with pale telekinetic magic and caught the nearest synth, freezing it in place. Swiftly, the magic intensified and the Institute’s machine was compressed from every angle. Metal shrieked and squealed as it was bent at extreme angles, and the entire body crunched as it was compacted into a one-yard by one-yard block of advanced wiring and machinery. The light was quickly extinguished from its cold eye sockets.

Whinn-E turned to the remaining pair. Both synths were lifted and slammed together and the TK field brightened. When the solid mass of bodies refused to compact as easily as a single one had, Whinn-E’s capacitors glowed brighter. They were forced into a smaller and smaller bundle, and one of synths managed to eke out a single, painful beep before it crumpled into silence.

With every enemy taken care of, Mikaella used the remote to reset Whinn-E into her passive state. The big robot rumbled and chimed, "Trash: compacted. Objective: complete. The Ministry of Wartime Technology wishes you a pleasant and productive day!" Stacking the trio of crushed synths into a neat pile, she then sprinkled some seeds into their hoofprints.

A thin trail of smoke rose as Live Wire raised the soldering iron from a circuit board he was working on. He leaned back from a magnifying glass he’d positioned over the circuitry and took a moment to stretch. He’d been hunched over for a considerable time, and the way his joints cracked were proof.

Just as he was about to go back in, he heard the faint ring of his surface doorbell. It was about time; he’d been waiting days for the salvage caravan to swing by. They always brought with them new and interesting items for Wire to get his hooves on, which he often traded for items that he had restored or modified for wasteland use. Today he was hoping to find a good spark battery.

Shuffling up the stairs, the elderly ghoul groaned at the effort. He wondered how much longer he would be able to make the trip to Divide if he was struggling just to ascend a flight of ten steps. Perhaps he could move the entrance to the bottom of the stairs instead, and have his more sprightly visitors make the multiple climbs instead…

When he wearily emerged from his basement into the crisp morning air, however, he found not a griffon and brahmin duo waiting for him, but rather the young zonkey mare from the other day. She looked significantly more worn-down than she had been when she’d last visited. Her legs were stained by mud, her coat covered in inadequately-cleaned dark splotches. She had a number of bruises and a busted lip, but her eyes still held that bright, resilient vigor.

On her back was a stack of five MEWs, bound together with duct tape and bundled alongside a spark battery. Most surprising of all, she had a severed synth head hanging from the staff secured with her saddlebag. She grinned as wide as the machine’s steel maw while she offered back Live Wire’s doodad.

“Special delivery!”

Author's Note

By nyxOs

L is for Larceny, Taking What Isn’t Yours, See?

Looking out for trouble was an unspoken rule. Then again, raiders felt the need to shout about trouble every ten minutes. At least, that’s what the colt Tilaso assumed he had heard in the shouting. He was too busy galloping away from the crazy bastards. It was a strange blessing that the tainted junkies were shooting wildly and hitting their own members.

Tilaso was no raider. He was a convict in the eyes of the Republic, if it could even be called such. Some time ago, he had been sentenced to life imprisonment for stealing medicine from a military-protected town. There was no trial. He wound up in a correctional facility several miles away.

More recently, the colt had overheard a plan between some of the other convicts. Part of their mandatory labor at the facility involved clearing rocks away with dynamite. The ponies overseeing the facility didn’t even notice a stick or two going missing. Apparently, soot-covered prison garbs were the perfect hiding place. The plan was to gather as much dynamite as possible and make a break for it in the confusion.

The plan worked a little too well. Tilaso didn’t even know where his explosive was going. After lighting a fuse, he just kicked the darn thing as far away from himself as possible. Several explosions later, and all of the guards were dead or paralyzed. Those that weren’t caught in the blast soon found their own firearms getting pulled out and finishing the job.

Half of the convicts stayed behind to use what was left of the facility as a home base. Tilaso joined the other half, the colts and stallions that moved as far away as possible. He ended up partnered with one stallion that yelled in his floppy ears and yanked on his shirt collar a lot.

Today, he was out looking for supplies: food, ammunition, anything really. His impromptu boss had stayed behind in a makeshift tent to keep an ear to the radio. One of the pros of Tilaso going out by himself was that he was a smaller target. Unfortunately, the downside was that if he failed at a task, there wasn’t any pony to back him up.

Hence, the colt was running for his life. His pursuers were practicing their philosophy of “spray and don’t pray”. He could have sworn there was a fire under his tail. After what felt like miles but was probably only half that length, the gunshots finally echoed down in the distance. The raiders were either reloading simultaneously or had given up the chase.

The colt sighed as he spotted his boss’s tent. He braced for an inevitable slap in the face for screwing up a supply run. Instead, he was shushed as the boss turned up the radio’s volume. According to the station, some pony was bold enough to drive some convicts out of a nearby trader town. Speculation was that a member of the Unity descended and had blessed the town with her presence, except the princess had taken some injuries in the defense.

Tilaso’s eyes went wide. Then, he heard his boss chuckling. Surely, he couldn’t think of challenging one of the alicorns directly! Every pony knew how dangerous a single one could be. Magic shields that could be summoned faster than a pistol fire, absorbing radiation like it was a shot of Hydra, magic to rival an entire unicorn squadron… all were reasons to run the other way. Yet his boss wanted to try his luck?

This was a terrible idea.

…

Tilaso ended up following his boss along the road. Boss had the better gun, Boss was the bigger stallion, and Boss had the louder voice. That was all that mattered for ponies without a code of law.

Looking into the distance, Boss chuckled. When Tilaso finally caught a glimpse, there were some cazadors lying on the ground. Standing in the middle of the mutant insects was an alicorn pony, panting for breath and clenching her teeth. It seemed even members of Unity were not immune to a poisonous swarm.

Boss clicked his gun. The alicorn’s ears perked up and she immediately looked straight at the two. Tilaso found himself unable to breathe. His legs shook underneath him. But Boss was already opening fire.

By the time Tilaso remembered how to breathe, the alicorn had already rushed over. She whipped a dagger out with her front hoof and sliced right through Boss’s neck. Under her other hoof, she crushed Boss’s gun into an unsalvageable mess. Tilaso trembled in the alicorn’s shadow. He slowly looked up into the eerie green eyes, slit like the eyes of a dragon.

“Get lost,” she told him.

The colt turned on his hind legs and fled. He didn’t know where to go. All he knew for sure was that he needed to be anywhere but here.

…

The young convict wasn’t sure how long he ran. After a while, he stopped next to a rock to catch his breath. Nearby, there was a cactus with a few flowers. He didn’t have a knife handy. So, he pulled out his pistol and shot a couple holes in the side. He gulped down a couple times before coughing on the juice. It was too bitter.

He slowly trotted along the road again. Maybe he could find an independent town and scrounge for stuff when they weren’t looking. It was all he could hope for at this point. He wasn’t looking forward to a night out in the cold.

His hooves carried him to the top of a hill. Down below, he could see several red tents. He pondered for a moment. If this was a tribe with uniformed tents, he’d stick out like a sore wing. There was no way he could just walk up and ask for food and a sleeping roll.

If there was at least one pony per tent, then he was looking at a minimum of ten potential threats. They may not have been alicorns, but that was still too many enemies for Tilaso to handle by himself. Maybe he could distract them with something, run into their supply stash, and gallop away before the tribals knew what hit them.

He took a deep breath before fishing out a stick of dynamite. Setting a light to the fuse, he kicked the red cylinder as far away as he could. It clacked along the dirt just on the far side of the tents.

*Ka-boom!*

Several garbed stallions ran out of their tents toward the noise. Tilaso wasted no time sliding down the hill. Once at the bottom, he scampered to the biggest tent and opened the flap. His muzzle came within an inch of a tribal’s spear.

Quickly, the colt backed up out of the tent. A shout rang out behind him in a language he didn’t understand. He looked around, finding himself surrounded by twelve different stallions in reddish-brown pads. Ten of them were holding spears, while the other two had laser pistols aimed at his head.

The rest of Tilaso’s night was spent with his hooves tied up. The owners of this camp had placed him on the ground with his back toward the campfire. He wondered how long they would keep him there.

Author's Note

Made by TundraStanza

M Is for Mutant: Beware the Malignant.

The House on the Hill.

200 years ago, the Great War that ravaged Equestria and beyond had ended with the detonations of the Megaspells, weapons of mass destruction where one held enough firepower to wipe out an entire civilization off the face of the earth with just a snap. And if the detonation failed to get the job done, the resulting radiation acted as an unadaptable plague, killing swaths and swaths of people faster than any plague existed before. With no natural defense against something made by the hands of Pony and Zebra alike, the only option was for many species to evolve rapidly over time to make worth of their unfamiliar environment: or in layman’s terms, mutate.

Now of course, many mutations are well known such as the Hellhounds, Ghouls, Timberstalkers, and more are well known amongst the Wasteland populace. However, there are a great many that remain undocumented for a variety of reasons ranging from the individuals dying at the hands of these monsters to lack of resources to record these beasts. Alas, that doesn’t change the fact that these creatures live, breathe, and eat just as much as you yourself do.

(Near the roads of Manehatten)

Gaining the morale of those who follow in your footsteps have become less of a requirement and more of an art these following years, it’s not easy to turn a pessimistic situation into a ray of hope when every turn you make can mean the difference between life and death. Keeping that morale is another situation entirely, it means to understand the limitations of the mind and how far someone can stretch their manipulation before the string broke.

It is because the fragile intricacy of leadership that Capt. Leo considers himself the best Captain the Pegasus Enclave has to offer. Time and time again have he proven that his prowess in rallying his forces and achieving stellar victory after stellar victory, claiming lands in the Enclaves goals of unifying the world under their rule. Even the Queen of the Sky agrees with this notion, appointing him of very important missions that even the smallest mistake can send their plans tumbling forward and crashing into a mess that just can’t be cleaned up.

“Capt. Where are we?”

However, not everyone can possess a streak so clean that it can’t be tainted by the unexpected. In which Capt. Leo was facing the full brunt of taking on a task pertaining to an area he knew little of. This time, he decided to annex whatever remains of Manehattan existed into Enclave rule.

On paper, this seemed like a great idea, only for half of his forces to be dispatched by the savage and barbaric Wastelanders and a quarter more left to die at the hands of the Talons and whatever beast decided to peak its ugly head out in the morning. Now, with a pitiful handful of soldiers at his disposal, the disgruntled Capt. Was burdened with the responsibility of finding shelter before night fell and casted them in darkness. In which, even more unspeakable terrors would unearth and devour his remaining forces.

Unfortunately for him, as expected by a land ravaged by the Megaspells, shelter was nary to be seen in the endless stretches of dry land. Everywhere he looked, the mirage of refuge formed in his sight only to disappear when he made a step towards it, like a haunting image of his daunting failure. It was at crucial moments like these he wished to the high heavens he was a Unicorn so he could conjure up a shelter and that be that.

“Look Capt. A cabin up ahead!”

His soldier did not lie, for at the head of a mountain, surrounded by seas of lush produce, was a cabin. The sight of such an out of place cabin in accordance with the greenery that was as scarce as water nowadays, maybe even more so, was enough to raise alarm.

He held his hand out, signaling for his troops to stand still. “I’ll investigate, stay on guard.” He stayed true to his word, flying up the hill to investigate this strange cabin. Even from far away, he could see that these rows of greenery were all but an illusion, they were as real as the sun itself.

He inspected the many produce growing on the bushes, vines, and whatever else, trying to detect any sort of malicious magic, concluding that it was clear. But to be sure, he took a cautious bite, the taste actually better than what the Enclave could ever produce. “An Earth Pony must live here.”

That statement was true for he learned at an early age that Earth Ponies possess an affinity for growing exceptionally good produce and plants. He decided to investigate the cabin, to which he was relieved to see that it was unremarkable all things considered. No secret compartments, no weird creatures, spotless in all venues. With a stern second viewing, Capt. Leo determined that the vicinity was safe for camping. And maybe a meal, but he had to be extra sure about that.

Returning to his posse of soldiers, he nodded. “The vicinity seems to be safe at face value, so we’ll camp out here for the night and leave first thing in the morning.” No matter how dire his situation seemed to be, and to an extent the punishment he would receive upon returning to the Enclave, the down on his luck captain couldn’t deny that seeing his troops rally in relief. It was a sight that he lived and breathed to see every day.

With fatigue threatening to drop them in the road, the team of tired soldiers made their way to the cabin on the hill. Before long, they’ve picked various fruits Capt. Leo deemed to be safe to eat and a makeshift banquet had taken place in the living room, the stove and everything working flawlessly.

“I don’t think this is a clever idea.” The one superstitious Pegasus amidst the group spoke up, scouting the cupboards and other storage places for salt. “There absolutely no salt here, and all the vegetables are South-Eastern in nature.” Private Conspiracy, as his team had named him, continued to voice his ever-growing concern.

The final female of the group could only scoff, rolling her eyes along with every other comrade. “You’re always like this; can’t anything good ever happen without you ruining it?” She scolded harshly, causing the younger soldier to cower and cease his worrying.

Not a word was uttered as a typical Pegasus banquet had taken place, the sight of something so close to home raising their morale ten – no – a hundredfold, all ready to take the rest of this task head on.

(Later That Night)

Night had come swiftly with the spell of slumber, rendering Capt. Leo and the rest of his team defenseless against the Wasteland wonders in the darkness. But while the grand majority of the team were fast asleep, Private Con couldn’t get a wink in.

He tried forcing himself to sleep, tried relaxing into the unexpected position, tried to ignore that voice in the back of his head. He truly tried to deny his natural superstitious behavior the acknowledgement it craved so he could join his comrades in a well-needed sleep. But it was all for naught as the midnight hours ticked by and he was as wide awake as he was that morning.

“I can’t do this…” He trailed off, jumping off the couch used as a makeshift bed. He made his way to the kitchen, hoping to find something he could eat or drink to pass the time as it was clear that sleep would not come to him.

“Leave.”

Whether it was his own fractured psyche or not, the whisper had caught the private off guard. He leaped to attention, plucking the pistol from his holster, and pointing it at the dark. Cautiously, he stepped towards the kitchen, sure that was where he heard the voice. His forehead was drenched in sweat, hands shaking as he was all but ready to pull the trigger and lay waste to whatever being lay behind the shadows. However, just as he round the corner, he could not believe what he saw.

Standing in the kitchen, a figure capable of dwarfing the Queen of the Sky easily, shrouded in unnatural shadows with horns large enough to impale a stallion’s throat. Seeing this… creature stand there was nothing short of mesmerizing, the sheer supernaturality of it all something not even he could predict to see.

Ensnared by the sight, Private Con failed to suppress a gasp, alerting the being. The way in which it twisted to meet his gaze was stranger, its lower half seemed to not move at all as its upper half twisted. Its white eyes came into view, small white wisps whisking off like smoke from a fire and met his eyes. Its lips contorted as it spoke.

“Go to sleep.”

It was undeniable, this creature – which carried a feminine tone – was the one who whispered. Her voice ethereal, not unlike a spirit, as she spoke her demand. He found it hard to disobey her, but as he was rebounding, a strange sound reached his ears. It was the sound of air splitting asunder as something of unimaginable speeds whipped through, and as he turned his attention around, he felt the hands of this creature violently grip his face.

He felt her fingers digging into the skin of his cheeks, hearing the sounds of his jaw collapsing under the unfathomable strength this being possessed. She hadn’t even held on for a quarter of a minute and he was already suffering damage.

“Break.”

As if on cue, he felt his jaw bones break as she spoke, the pain surging through his body would’ve forced a loud scream to erupt from his throat, but he found that he was unable to produce any sound. He looked at this being as it raised one hand, raising him higher off the ground than he’s ever been in his life by one hand.

And with that one hand, she tossed him across the house, the loud thud against the wall no doubt loud enough to wake everyone else up. He hoped that it did so that he would not be forced to go up against this powerful beast all by his lonesome, which is surely to end in death for him. But no one came to his help.

He tried getting up, only for a powerful weight to rest on his leg quite harshly, the undeniable snap of his leg breaking in two only outdone by his loud scream, which too should have woken up his comrades. He feared for his life, his leg and jaw broken, and in spite of his shrieks of pain, he would die alone as this creature had its way with him.

Another violent hand gripped his cheeks and hoisted him into the air. He shut his eyes, unable to look this creature in the eyes as it robbed him of his life. He expected the cold hand of death to touch his soul and lead him to the afterlife, whether he’d reside in heaven or hell.

Alas, such a deadly blow had not come. In fact, it was as if nothing had taken hold of his cheeks. Curiosity superseded caution and he wretched his eyes open, only to see that not only was he on the couch he was previously, but he was unharmed.

It wouldn’t take long before his mind put two and two together and he waited not a moment to obey the creature’s whisper: hopping off the couch and running out the door, disregarding the idea of waking his comrades for they were sure to think him a madman. Luckily for him, his belongings were situated in front of the door, proving that the being in his dreams was far from a figment of his imagination.

He was gone.

(Tomorrow Morning)

The remaining forces of Capt. Leo’s squadron had woken up, replenished and rejuvenated, prepared to complete the task the Queen of the Sky had assigned to them. They prepared accordingly and thundered down the stairs, ready to reel in Private Con into their shenanigans.

However, as they reached the lower floor, Private Con was nowhere to be found, and his belongings were gone as well. Despite him being a powerful asset, his superstitious attitude made sure that they harbored nothing but negative feelings towards him. They quickly cited insubordination and abandonment and evacuated the premises.

As they stepped outside, they couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with a sense of being watched by a malicious, malignant force. Words need not to be exchanged as weapons were drawn and everyone watched their surroundings intently.

Relief would have taken hold of the 4 Pegasi squad if it weren’t for a creature that could only be described as a mix between a Goat and an Earth Pony with the height that from afar looked to be able to block the sun. Capt. Leo, stunned for words, immediately pointed his weapon in this beast’s direction, only to hear the deafening screams of his comrades.

He looked back, only for his eyes to widen in horror as two of his subordinates were dragged off into the distance by the plants surrounding them: the sickening sound of flesh and blood being spilled with the company of bones being harshly broken, they were killed.

Before he could turn back to their primary offender, he felt a harsh hand grab his face and shatter his jawbone. He tried his absolute best to scream for help, but he could hardly squeak out a breath when he found that a searing pain ripped through his chest. It was with one loo down that he saw the fist of this beast had penetrated his stomach and out came a lung, the organ like a grape in the hand of this monster.

“CAPTAIN!”

His remaining comrade attempted to save him, only for his head to fly off with a strong kick, the rest of the body falling limp. But he had little time to inspect the body for his attention was drawn to this Goat/Pony hybrid, a cocktail of fear and anger swirling behind his eyes.

“You will pay dearly for killing my men…” He seethed.

The large creature leaned in, her lips mere inches away from his ear. “Should have heeded the private’s warning.” She spoke before she pulled back, opening her mouth to let out this strange black mist.

No sooner had he unintentionally inhaled the mist had he broke out into a shrieking wale of pain, absolute agony coursing through his veins as he felt death’s cold hand violently rip his soul out of his body. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel the skin on his face and body evaporate, leaving only bone. Luckily, he died before the transformation was complete.

Now, his body was no more than a skeleton, void of any blood, organs, or anything else. Not even eyes as they had burst as he passed away.

Now, what was once a shining example of the Pegasus Enclave’s expansion was now a scarecrow of death, a warning warding off any further potential invaders.

Remember: M is for Mutant: Beware the Malignant.

Author's Note

By Base Anonymous

N is for Nightstalker, They have a terrible bite. One dose of venom, And you are in for a night.

"No pony truly knows where the Nightstalkers came from. Some think they're a transmutation spell went wrong, similar to the creatures of Stable 24. Others think that they're an experimentation of some mad pony playing god by using Discord's blood. Then some believe Nightstalkers to be the spawn of some ancient snake god. Using their venom in weird rituals to brainwash followers.

"Never the less, Nightstalkers are cunning creatures. They hunt in packs and are highly poisonous. If you find yourself in Nightstalker territory; keep your gun loaded, pray that you packed some anti-venom, and listen for the rattle. For that is the only warning you'll receive before a Nightstalker strikes."
-Prof. Parchy Mustment, Ghoul Explorer Extraordinaire.

A bead of sweat traveled down the face of the tan stallion as he looked through his scope. He scanned the buildings of Manehattan from his hunting blind on top of a half-demolished skyscraper. Within his field of vision, he looked for his mark. There was a small caravan traveling down the railway, most likely heading to Tenpony tower. There was also a Molerat den within the nearby pet store, judging by all the branches and junk gathered there. However, the Hunter continued to scan for his prey.

A few minutes later, the hunter's wings twitched as he spotted a Manticore walking down the main street. He licked his lips in anticipation as he removed his explorer's hardhat and placed it on a rock. Brushing his two-toned green mane out of his face, he braced himself to fire his rifle on his battle-saddle. A scrap of cloth he tied to a pole fluttered in the wind.

The Hunter slowed his breath, lined up his shot, tongue on the trigger, and... Bang! The Manticore was down for the count. "Hell, yeah!" He gave a celebratory shout as he kicked up his hat and landed it on his head in midair. He then glided down to claim his prize.

However, when the Hunter made his approach, he found that the Manticore was weirdly disfigured. Its right foreleg and up its neck was swollen as if it had an allergic reaction to something. Upon closer inspection, the Hunter discovered that it was poisoned from another creature's bite. The bite wound resembled one from a canine except for two deep puncture wounds that resembled snake bite.

Suddenly the sound of a tin can being kicked over resounded off the buildings. The Hunter instinctively spun to the noise, aiming his rifle. It was only for an instant, but he caught a glimpse of something disappearing around the corner, down a street. A moment later, rubble fell from a nearby building with animal noises echoing away. It sounded like a pack of wild dogs retreating.

The Hunter scanned his surroundings for a moment longer before producing a knife to harvest the poison sack off the Manticore. He stared at that sack in deep thought. "Weird..." He scanned his surroundings once more. "Predators don't usually scare so easy." A mare's scream then echoed in the distance as well as gunshots of a small caliber. "Unless They found easier prey!" Upon this revelation, he launched himself into the air toward the gunfire.

As the Hunter sored through the air, he finally came across the metro station where the attack is happening. The sound of rattling echoed in the air. He then swooped in and instantly saw a few creatures nipping at the Unicorn with the gun as another one dragged a helpless colt away.

Without hesitation, the Hunter fired at the one on the colt, killing it. That drew the attention of the other creatures, causing them to scatter and spread out. Except for one, that was keeping the Unicorn at bay, who were between it and his pack Brahmin. the hunter landed next to the colt. He was starting to swell from the creature's bite and was breathing heavily.

The Hunter took a good look at the dead creature and was shocked. "Nightstalkers!? What are they doing outside of Hoofington?" Rattling and growls surrounded the Hunter, as three Nightstalkers flanked around him. One Nightstalker lunged at him from behind.

The Hunter bucked it out of the air, but then the other two used the distraction to attack as well. Swiftly and skillfully, he twisted his body to block one 's bite with his gun. Then, he kicked off the ground flapping his wings to dodge the other. The Nightstalker continued to bite down on the Hunter's gun, as he did his flip, with fangs dripping of venom. As a result, the Nightstalker was flung into a pile of rubble with the air knocked out of it.

The Hunter landed and glanced at the Unicorn. The Caravanner was struggling on the ground pinned, with his varmint rifle in the jaws of the creature. Seeing this, the Hunter aimed his rifle for a kill shot and... Bang! "ARGH!" The Hunter screamed in pain as the Nightstalker he dodged before lunged its fangs in his shoulder. His shot was slightly off, it struck the Nightstalker in the body, but it wasn't a killing blow. it ran off whimpering in pain

The hunter fell to the ground with the Nightstalker tugging and pulling, trying to tear flesh. However, it was denied that flesh when a varmint rifle smacked into it like a club. The Unicorn swung his rifle wildly getting in a few good hits before the whole hunting party retreated yelping.

Once they were gone the Caravanner assisted the Hunter to his hooves. "Are ya ah-right?" The Unicorn said with a thick accent.

"Bucky!" A mare came running out from behind the Brahmin straight to the colt on the ground. She tried to shake him awake to no avail. "Max-a-Million! Bucky won't open his eyes!" She panicked.

The Hunter hobbled as quick as he could to the dead Nightstalker. He took a jar from his bag and collected its venom. He then held it out to the Unicorn. "Take this and you boy to Tenpony Tower. Have them synthesize an anti-venom."

The Unicorn took the jar with his magic. He looked between it and the Hunter who was taking out a knife, scrap cloth, a bandage, and a healing potion. "Whatta bout ya? Ya were bitten too."

The Hunter took the knife and grunted painfully as he cut into the bite, forcing it to bleed. He then switched it with the bandage. "There's not enough for two doses. My only hope is to track the injured one down." He soaked the bandage with the healing potion then tried to wrap the wound with one hoof. Max-a Million saw him struggling and proceeded to wrap the wound for him. "...Thanks."

The Unicorn continued to help the Hunter put his leg in a tourniquet. "Its the least ah can do, fer savin' me boy."

The Hunter nodded. "I'm sure you would've done the same." He then started to hover off the ground with his wings. "You should hurry along, your boy doesn't have much time!" He yelled as he flew off after to blood trail.

After a few minutes of flying, the Hunter found himself sweating profusely. The swelling started to push against the bandages. He briefly checked the wound while flying. Despite what he did to keep the poison from spreading, the venom still got rooted in his blood which caused some discoloration around the wound.

About ten minutes later he landed and continued on hoof. The trail led through a park with a pond in the center. The grounds were overgrown with razor grain and bushes that looked like they had mutated fruit growing on them. Which took the Hunter by surprise. Not long ago, before the Gardens of Equestria was activated, this area was barren.

The Hunter then came across a dilapidated dwelling with a long-dead pony inside. He decided to take a short break, staring at the skeleton with labored breaths. Sweat dripped down his face as he sat onto his haunches. The skeleton was lying on a half-decayed mattress with a destroyed box and an old barrel next to it. Old rusted Farming tools were neatly placed in the barrel. "How Ironic." The breathlessly talked to the skeleton. "You toiled in vain to make this land fertile to your last breath. Only for your crops to flourish after you're dead." Due to the extra movements, the poison took a deeper hold in the Hunter. It started to sap his strength which caused his legs to shake.

The Hunter sat there in silence until he heard a soft whine. Upon investigation, while using the foliage for cover, he found his quarry. The injured Nightstalker was licking its wound with its forked tongue. The hunter licked his dry lips and gingerly grabbed his battle saddle mouthpiece. As he tried to aim he took a deep breath in an attempt to steady his muscles. His eyes squinted and blinked as his vision became blurry. However, the Hunter Recognized his target within the crosshairs. His Tongue on the trigger, he slowly exhaled, and... rattling and growls came from right behind him...

The Hunter had become the Prey...

Author's Note

By DeadEndtheDullahan

O is for Organs, which black markets have no need to ban

The black market. Dark, dangerous, and extremely profitable if you know what rakes in the dough. Guns, valuable tech, the occasional slave, and organs.

Organs… The hardest to get out of them all, in my opinion anyways. You have to find a healthy pony, seduce or trick them into coming into your shop, keep them alive till you can find a buyer who won't wimp out on you, and then cut them up. Plus, they often ask me to put it inside of them as well! Do I look like I do this stuff for free!?

But in the end, it's all worth it. I'm getting quadruple, quintuple digits in my accounts for all of the efforts they put me through. Enough to practically buy the west side trottingham!

But I can't. Too much, and questions will start to follow. "And there's enough of those floating around already. Isn't there, miss Goldfinch?"

Grinning, I turn to look at my latest donor. She's alive, barely, but I still need one last, itty, bitty, thing from her. "You know what they say darling, I take ponies breathe away! Well, I hope they do. I don't spend all this time looking good for fun y'know?"

She can't hear me, but that's alright, she'll be listening to a new tune somewhere below. "SHINK! Ah~~, just like that darling... Nice and easy… Plop!"

Grinning, I look at my masterpiece. Two plump lungs, ready to be taken to their new owners. I grab the cooler and place the two beauties in and close it.

"Y'know, I really should thank you. You make my life so much easier! Just sitting there, crying instead of thrashing about like some of the others~! Made me save the morphine for a more useful moment. Maybe the new mare a couple of houses down… She looked like a real kicker..."

Jolting out of my thoughts, I pick up the cooler and place it next to the door. Just got to wash up, and then we'll be all set.

Taking a second to check once more that the lungs were secure, I make my way to the washroom.

Pale, gloomy, and a somewhat mysterious looking unicorn. I like to think I look that way, charming enough to drag in both stallions and mares alike. Too bad most of the ones I do bag say I look like I could use pity lay.

I don't mind. I truly don't, it just means that it's more enjoyable for me. Simply getting them to follow me will do.

"Clink, Ah~, there we go. No more blood stains." Grinning into the mirror, I grin. My reflections mirrors me, albeit with a cruel light in its eyes. Am I cruel…? Maybe.

"No, just giving others a chance at a better life. For science, some others would say. But… Am I wrong in what I do?"

The reflection, astonishingly, doesn't answer. It never does. I wish it could though, would mean the world to me.

Whatever, I've got a delivery to make.

Closing the door, I make my way to the exit of the apartment complex. Trotting through it reminds me of the things I do for a living, spilt blood there, a little hacked up lung in a corner next to some cigarette butts, and of course, the usual druggie attempting to get some cash for dash.

"~H-Heeeyyyy~! Got any extra bits I can b-cragh!-orrow?"

Scoffing, I deadpan, "No."

And as usual, they tried to take it by force. Grappling on me, feeling for my saddle bags, until I give them my speciality, a scalpel to the side. Enough for most, but it wasn't working today.

Too bad. The gashes I left him wheezing on the floor with is enough for him. Too bad he was a druggie, he could've been quite a profit if he wasn't.

The rest of the trip was normal, as usual. The park was merely a couple of blocks away. Not a difficult walk, but a bit tiring for my gaunt frame.

The usual spot, under a pair of cedars, staring in the direction of the capital. This spot… It may be an unusual spot to do a black market deal, but it holds some semblance to me. It almost makes me feel... Good? No, content.

Never good. Good was not something that I often feel. But when I do, it's from a successful year. I haven't had one of those in a while. Bruised up from deals gone wrong or with a wired explosive to ensure I don't slack off on the surgeries that those idiots keep taking.

Rustling behind me alerts me to my client. "It was apple pie right?"

No. It was supposed to be no. "Why, yes darling! I do hope that applejack sent her best, no?"

Blood froze in my veins as I heard that voice. I look over my shoulder to see the worst sight in years. The leader of the ministry of image.

How-why-no, WHEN!?

There's no way she could've heard of me in the past weeks, I was too careful! Was it one of my clients!? Wait… Goldfinch. She talked about working for one of the ministries. I thought she meant the ministry of peace… They're the ones who usually deal in this area, trying to help those damn druggies!

Grinning, she looks down at me, "What? Something wrong darling? It's almost like you swallowed your tongue! Or did you perhaps cut it out?"

She knows. "H-how many?"

Raising a brow, she chuckles, "How many what?"

Swallowing my fear, I mutter, "Snipers, assassins, hired killers, whatever would be necessary to get rid of me."

Her laughter sent chills down my spine. "How cute! You're terrified of dying? You should've known long ago that this is what would happen if we found out about all of your deals."

Nodding, I can't help but agree. I've had a dead man's switch placed in me for a while now. It's wired to send all of my belongings, and a video of how I died, to a close friend of mine. I merely just ask one last thing of her, just a dying wish, "Care to make it quick? I don't like the idea of taking time to bleed out."

More laughter, "No, I think we're gonna have karma for you darling. Say, I hear a couple of Twilights scientists need organ donors after their last experiment went wrong… Let's phone them together darling, show them who is going to save their lives"

Wincing, I feel something lance my neck, "But I'm afraid you look rather tired, let's get you 'home', shall we?"

Panicking, I reach for my scalpel, and raked it forward… Only to find it not there. She had it. I'm good as dead without my only tool.

Closing my eyes, I fall asleep for the last time in a while.

When I finally do come to, I am mostly gone. My insides were open, and all I had left besides my heart was my beating lungs. "Darling~! Guess who came to say thank you~?"

Opening my crusted over eyes, I see them. Scientists and soldiers alike, all staring in horrified fascination. And Rarity. She had a look of just utter smugness. "Why don't you say your welcome to these wonderful ponies? After this last transplant, I'm afraid you're no longer breath taking as usual… That was your last job wasn't it? Those lungs… Poor miss Goldfinch… She worked for me, did you know that darling? She was supposed to keep an eye on you! Then she got sucked in… Said you were too… What was it? Ah, yes. breath-taking, was it? Well… The irony wasn't lost on me."

The silence was crushing. Then a clattering from… Somewhere, and I was out.

I was alive. Somehow.

Looking around, I could see several monitors doing their jobs, a few drawings, and a couple of… baskets? "Click."

Jolting my eyes to the door, I panic. Rarity. The one who killed, er, almost killed me. The forced smile was on, practiced nearly to perfection, but betrayed by the absolute look of hatred in her eyes, "Daaarling~! You're… Awake."

And at that moment, another figure entered the room. Butter yellow with a soft pink manes, it was near impossible to mistake her, "O-oh dear… Are you alright?"

Ho-, no, that's obvious. She's the head of the ministry of peace. She's most likely has every medical device in history within her reach. The question is, "W-why?"

The look she holds doesn't exactly spark… Kindness like her pictures do. It holds a more calculated look. "W-well, when I heard about all the organ transplants Twilights scientists were in need of, I looked into getting donors.But-but, when I get back in contact, I find out a whole bunch have found donors. So I l-look into who were the donors… And I found you, mister flatline."

Flat line? That isn't-, "I kn-now what you're thinking, but after the whole… Organ dealing business, we needed a new name for you. It isn't inconspicuous, b-but it's an obvious name for your… new occupation."

New? Before I can get a say in, she quietly says, "N-now that I convinced Rarity to let me take ahold of your case, I can get you started in your new profession… I-if y-you don't mind."

Pulling myself up, I look around to see my options. Simply say no, and there'll be a shovel in my hands with a note telling me to dig my grave. The obvious choice was already laid out for me, "S-suuure, but do you mind kissing my as-Cragh!"

The sheets were speckled with blood as I tasted copper. "O-OH! Oh no, no, no! I knew we shouldn't have woken you so soon!"

Monitors blared and beeped, and I was gone as the world spiralled out of control with my simple sarcastic comment still stuck on my tongue.

—————

Angered yelling. Can't get enough of it. It's the first thing I've heard in a while. It's all hazy sounding, like it's coming through a speaker or something.

Light.

Screaming.

Pain.

So.

Much.

PAIN.

I can feel nothing but pain. And then… A face. A concerned face. One guess to who it was. "Oh my gosh… Are you okay mr. Flatline?"

"No."

Something was wrong. Very wrong. "O-oh. I guess you can already tell, huh?"

Her pitying face was anything but comforting. It was a look I've seen before. A look of concern for a project. You wouldn't die if it broke, but it was a Celestia damned shame if it did. "W-well, no need to s-suspend this. We c-couldn't save your body completely. So… We made do."

Looking at a few of the more reflective monitoring screens told me enough. "I'm a brain in a jar."

Nodding as if I were a foal who had just gotten the correct answer to the riddle, she continued, "Well, now that you're… up and running, we can get you started on your first assi-"

"No."

The shock on her face was almost sweet enough to taste, "W-what?"

"You heard me. No."

She was getting upset now. "I have spent all of this time on just getting you out of dying, a-and you don't want to e-even consider working for me!?"

I blink in disbelief. Or I try to anyway. "Why did you even consider me working for you? I got my organs taken out and my brain put into a jar. I've been reduced to nothing. Tartarus, I've turned into the things I work with on a daily basis!"

"..."

"Shut me down. Terminate me. Kill me. I don't want this. I wanted to either die or continue my work, never…. Whatever you were going to have me do. So… Pull the plug."

Her face contorted. Mortified. Saddened. Shock. And finally. A mixture of anger and… Regret. She looked over her side and nodded.

Going out as just a brain. Never thought I'd die via my own line of work. Well… Maybe once.

The tank was draining. I had a few seconds left, and as I always said, "Make your last breath count, cause we don't know what's at the end of the road."

And I made them count, "Also, it's dutiful scalpel. Remember that... when you... put... it on... my… grave… you… bi… tch..."

"Clunk"

Author's Note

By ShadowmancerElite

P is for Poison, the tiniest things can kill.

“Do not touch it!”

Root Wisdom’s harsh voice cut sharper than any dagger or spear, and I pulled my hoof away from the pretty, violet petals they’d been just an inch from touching. I brushed some of my frizzy red mane away from my dirt brown face and looked at my mentor with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

Like an old, warped set of roots from a dead tree, my mentor’s body near creaked as she moved, white fur plastered over thin bones. Her own mane of faded pink and white was twisted in a thick set of braids, and old as she was, there was strength in her movements as she walked past me and loomed over the flower that had drawn my eye. She turned rheumy blue eyes towards me.

“Never touch anything with color such as this, young Heal Berry. This flower has evil spirits within it, born of the land sickness from the Great Fires of old. A prick of the thorns upon it will drain your life as swift as any infected bite from a beast or spear of a rival tribespony.”

I swallowed and nodded, but couldn’t take my eyes off the odd purple flower. It had unusually large, tapered petals, and its stem grew thick and green, with obvious thorns jutting from it. A cluster of them rose from the base of a tree long dead and black from the Great Fires that swept the world in the old days of Equestria, before the Wasteland. I’d never seen these types of flowers before. In fact the only other kind I’d ever seen were the weed-like ‘dandelions’ that tended to cluster around the higher mountain slopes. Root Wisdom had been taking me further and further afield from our village, further up the mountains, always teaching me new things about both survival and the healing arts.

I was supposed to one day take her place as tribe shaman, but I hardly felt up to the task yet. My knowledge was still nowhere near the equal of the old earth pony’s, and while some in the tribe might claim my unicorn blood might give me some advantage in both healing illness and communing with the spirits of the land, I mostly felt my ‘magic’ was of little use other than making it easier to carry things. However, unicorns were uncommon enough in the Cliff Runner tribe, so our fellow tribemates tended to think us more capable than we actually were. More tied to the spiritual realm, at any rate.

Honestly I’d never even seen a spirit, let alone communed with one. Root Wisdom had yet to show me any the deeper mysteries of shamanism. So far my year of training had involved a lot of hiking, collecting roots and mosses, and listening to lectures on how to brew broths to ease coughs, or how to read weather patterns.

Our mountain home was situated within a deep valley ravine, cloaked in shadows most times of day save for high noon. It was well hidden, even the few trails leading to our village concealed from easy view from other parts of the mountains and foothills. This helped keep us safe from rival tribes. Well, rival tribe. Since for as long as I could remember, we Cliff Runners rarely had contact with the other pony tribes that inhabited the mountains. We knew there were others out there, to the east and west along the great mountain chain, but only one tribe gave us any trouble. The Stone Teeth. They were a tribe that lived to the north, in the higher, snow capped peaks.

Nopony knew why, but the Stone Teeth were not a friendly tribe. Indeed, they were downright hostile, and would send raids south. Usually it was our larger neighbors to the east who had to deal with those raids, given we Cliff Runners usually kept hidden, but every now and then our hunting parties would run afoul of the Stone Teeth marauders. It was why Root Wisdom didn’t take me too far from the village on these training excursions, and why when we camped, we made sure to keep our fire’s light hidden, even if the Stone Teeth only ever seemed to do their raids when there was a fog in the air

Today was clear of fog, and the closest I’d come to danger was touching a poison flower cluster. I bowed to Root Wisdom with the proper respect, “I should have waited until you said if it was safe.”

She seemed satisfied enough with that, as much as she ever did anyway, and made that sniffing ‘hmph’ sound she did when she accepted something but was still feeling crotchety about it. “Among many things, you must learn to rely on your own wit. I can impart lessons, but they mean little if you can’t apply them when I’m not around. Spirits above, colt, pay attention and let me tell you about these flowers.”

I backed up a bit to give her room as she shuffled over and leaned over the flowers, eyeing them and me in turn. “These flowers are known as ‘Cold Kiss Flowers’. Know why?”

I shook my head because it was expected. She knew I didn’t know, but this was part of how she taught.

“The thorns secret a toxin that will freeze the lungs. Take the breath right out of you. Too much, and you die choking for air that won’t come. But, just a drop, diluted in enough boiled water, will actually make a fine potion that eases the worst hacking and wheezing. The flower petals themselves are harmless, and if ground to a paste and added with a mixture of gecko urine can sterilize wounds and aid the healing process. If you cut the stems, here, at the base, you can get a clean flow of toxin. Collect it, and you can coat spear heads with it. Makes hunting larger prey like the mighty cave bears much easier.”

She went on to explain how to properly cut the flower stems and harvest them without risking a potentially lethal prick from the thorns. It’d be easier for me to use my magic, but Root Wisdom insisted I do things the Earth Pony way, and use my hooves and stone knife. She showed me once, then twice, before letting me try myself. Luckily I avoided poisoning myself, but you can rest assured I gave the flowers a great deal of respect as I harvested them, even though I knew it was likely Root Wisdom carried an antidote with her.

“Hmm, good, good,” she said, nodding as I finished carefully packing the flower, now separated from the stem, into a leather pouch, and followed her lead in draining the stem into a baked clay gourd.

“You knew the flowers were here, didn’t you?” I asked, “That’s why we came to this ravine today. You wanted to show them to me.”

“Hmph, perhaps. Or perhaps I had another destination in mind and you just happened upon them, and I figured now was as good a time as any to teach you, since you seemed so determined to poison yourself before I could. What would you say to your sister if you died in such a foolish manner?”

The words may have been spoken in partial jest, but they cut just the same. My ears and tail drooped and I lowered my head, wincing at pained memory. Root Wisdom, for all her old curmudgeonly attitude, gave a look that said she knew she’d taken things a bit far, and let out a dusty sigh.

“Apologies, colt, I meant no harm in that. Just trying to remind you that caution matters out here. These mountains may be safer than the Wasteland beyond them, but they remain dangerous, and a careless act can still get you killed. Potion Berry wouldn’t have wanted that, yes?”

“No, she wouldn’t, and I understand,” I said.

Soon enough Root Wisdom was leading me further down the ravine, not only pointing out more of the Cold Kiss Flowers to harvest, but where several useful roots could be dug up for the night’s meal. We would be staying out here the night and not returning to the village until the next morning. We spent the afternoon trotting among rocky clefts and passing over to the next ravine. My mind tried to stay focused on Root Wisdom’s lessons, but my eyes and mind kept getting drawn to the south.

South, down the mountain slopes, beyond the rolling foothills dotted with thick forests of blackened trees (and a hoofful of almost living ones with faded brown needles). Beyond all that, to the wide, barren plains of the Wasteland. What was out there, I wondered? Why had my sister volunteered to go there with a hunting party to scout those dangerous lands where the Great Fires had burned hottest and dangers lurked in horrifying quantities?

I still didn’t know the details of how she died. Only two hunters had returned from her expedition, telling tales of ruins filled with death, of monsters beyond imagining, and so-called “ponies” even more deadly and violent than the monsters. All I knew was that Potion Berry had left one day, promising she’d come back with grand tales and useful items to help the tribe, and that strange, deadly realm beyond the mountains knowing as the “Wasteland” had swallowed her up.

If I wanted to make her proud, I needed to focus on becoming the best I could at learning the secrets of the shaman. Perhaps, one day...

We camped beneath the overhang of a short cliff at the top of the ravein’s western side. We built our fire in a dug out pit to hide it’s light, and cooked a broth of roots in a clay pot, which we ate alongside dried gecko meat. Root Wisdom performed a blessing over the food, imploring the spirits of the earth to keep the taint of the Great Fires from it. I paid close attention to her chant and repeated it myself. I still didn’t know if the spirits really listened, but this was part of the duties I would need to learn.

“Do you think the spirits still reside in the lands beyond our mountains?” I asked her, my eyes drawn to the south horizon where the Wasteland lay waiting, now shrouded in dusky shadow with the fall of night.

“Spirits reside everywhere, young colt,” Root Wisdom replied, “They are ever with us. But never forget, Heal Berry, that spirits, like ponies themselves, are fickle things that come in every ilk. Not all are our allies. In the Wasteland dwell many evil spirits. The Great Fires twisted them, as it twisted the land itself.”

I swallowed, feeling a chill run down my spine as I tried to imagine in, and felt a stab of regret, wondering what horrors my sister had seen out there before she’d been killed. “Have you ever been there?”

There was a cryptic gleam in the old mare’s eyes as she flicked an ear and said, “Once, in a much more foolish youth. Do not dwell on these thoughts, colt. The Wasteland is beyond you as you are now, and you’ve many lessons yet to learn before you contemplate it further. As shaman, you will be responsible for the tribe’s well being when I am gone. That should be your focus. Now, tell me, what have you learned this day?”

I suppressed my immediate instinct to answer with the obvious response that I’d learned what a Cold Kiss Flower was. Root Wisdom usually asked these questions when she wanted me to think about the meaning behind her lessons, not just the bare bones of the lesson itself. I sat there on my haunches, tail lashing left and right as I thought hard about what she’d shown me today. Yes, the intent was to show me the poison flowers, to harvest them, their applications that would help the tribe. But what was the deeper meaning behind it all?

“I... I’m not sure,” I said, admitting defeat as I couldn’t quite grasp what it was she wanted to hear. Then again, this was an earlier lesson she’d taught me, perhaps the most important one; it’s better to admit ignorance rather than to pretend wisdom. Only then could one seek answers.

From Root Wisdom’s look I could tell she’d more or less expected my answer, and was at least pleased that I hadn’t tried to pretend I knew something when I didn’t. “Well, we’ve a day or two yet before we’re due back at the village. We’ll see if I can’t get the lesson to sink in by then.”

The next day dawned cold and wet, with rain drizzling down from the gray sky. Used to such weather, it hardly slowed Root Wisdom and I as we picked our way further east through several shear gullies and even steeper ravines. We were Cliff Runners, used to such terrain, and our hooves moved with swift surness over even the slippery of ledges. My mentor showed me a few more areas where Cold Kiss Flowers bloomed, and explained that they usually grew in early to middle Fall.

“It’s best to stock up when you can. Store them somewhere a tad damp. You don’t want them drying out. Why, in my early years as a shaman, I let a bushel of these catch fire one hot summer, and I tell you, the smoke from these flowers can kill if you inhale too much. Even a few whiffs could knock out a grown pony.”

“Hmm, if our hunters had a way to light bushels of these, wouldn’t that make good weapons against the next Stone Teeth raid?” I asked, and Root Wisdom chuckled in amusement.

“Not a half bad idea, if one could control the wind spirits and ensure the smoke didn’t blow right back in your face. Ah, but your mind is in the right place, young Heal Berry. Keep that head thinking outside of the box.”

“Outside what box?” I asked, confused, and Root Wisdom rolled her eyes.

“Old world saying, don’t worry about it.”

As noon arrived, I couldn’t help but notice a disturbing development in our surroundings. The rain, along with a rise in heat from the midday, was creating a thin veil of fog around us. It wasn’t bad at first, but within an hour it grew thicker, until visibility grew to less than perhaps thirty paces around us. Instinctively I started cocking my head left and right, fixing my ears to try and hear better in either direction.

“Root Wisdom...” I said nervously, and she, just a few paces ahead of me, flicked her tail and shot me a short glare.

“Voice down, colt. Noise travels further and stranger in the fog.”

I gulpd and lowered my voice, “Do you think they’re out there?”

It wasn’t as if every fog brought with it a Stone Teeth raiding party, but it was certainly true that every Stone Teeth raiding party came with a fog. I wondered if they had shamans of their own who spoke with fog spirits to garner their aid? Root Wisdom was tilting her head in a similar manner to my own, her ears twitching with intent listening. On top of that her muzzle wrinkled as she sniffed the air, eyes closed in focus.

“I don’t know. They don’t control the fog, Heal Berry, but they know enough to use it when it comes. I’ve seen no tracks. But...”

“But?” I asked, wishing she’d not leave me hanging like this. I felt the stone dagger at my side, it’s weight a small comfort to the prospect of having to fight for my life. I as no hunter or warrior.

“There is something out there. I hear less than I should, and smell the stench of death. Not far, either. Come.”

She started off again, and I followed her, asking incredulously, “We’re going toward the smell of death?”

“Colt, if there’s danger out here, it’s too close to the village for my liking,” she replied sharply, but still quietly, “I want to see what it may be, first. Once I know, we’re returning home.”

That was more than answer enough for me, and I clammed up as I continued to follow Root Wisdom through the now disturb lying thick fog. The fog not only limited visibility, but it did strange things to sound, making our hoof steps somehow sound louder to my ears. My nerves started to grow tenser as I kept looking behind us, imagining I saw darting shapes in the gray expanse of fog.

The steep ravine we’d been walking along leveled out somewhat into a rise with a cluster of dead, black trees and bramble bushes. Even I smelled the distinct, cloying scent of something dead, now. Root Wisdom, seemingly undaunted, continued forward, but I saw her reach with her mouth to the sheath at her side and draw her dagger. I did the same with my magic, a soft, warm glow of pale blue light drawing forth the weapon of edged stone and carved bone to float it next to me as I walked behind my mentor.

We poked our way through the brambles, their thorns scratching at our hides. Beyond them, in the center of the copse of dead trees, we found the source of the stench.

Cliff Runners, indeed almost all tribe ponies of the mountains, trained themselves to speak clearly, even with a weapon in their mouths, and Root Wisdom swore around her dagger at the sight before us.

At least five or six ponies lay dead on the ground. Or, I gauged it was five or six. Enough of them were in pieces that being entirely sure how many died here as difficult to tell. I was mostly counting by the heads, but some of the torn, pulped pieces of meat I was seeing could have also been heads, at one point or another. Thicker body parts lay strewn, some more intact than others, in a haphazard mess. Torsos torn fully open at the chest or bellies spilled innards about in ropey, gray and red masses. Sometimes the legs remained attached, but other times bits of leg could be seen meters away from any other body part, the ends clearly gnawed upon.

What few faces remained intact upon the bodies showed expressions of anguish and horror, open and lifeless eyes imprinted with their owners last moments of terror.

I feel no shame in admitting I voided my stomach rather unceremoniously on the nearest bramble bush after only a few seconds of looking upon the terrible scene. Root Wisdom didn’t admonish me for the noise, staring grimly around at the death surrounding us. By the time I got my nauseousness under control and could stand to look at the bodies without retching further, Root Wisdom was already examining them more closely.

“Wh-what could have done this?” I asked in a tense whisper.

Her response frightened me more than any answer could have.

“...I don’t know.”

She must have seen just how shaken I was, because she looked at me and quickly began to speak in a steady, even voice, “Whatever it was, it struck quickly, and recently. These bodies are not a day dead, yet. These Stone Teeth must have been coming with the fog, and were preparing to set up camp here. Look, you can see where they laid their campfire.”

With her pointing it out, I did see where, amid all the blood and torn body parts, a small pit with half-charred wood lay partially scattered. I also now noticed that these ponies were of the Stone Teeth tribe. I’d never met a pony of that tribe face to face before, but I’d been told of the way they carved ritualistic scars into their hides and wore baubles of stone in their pierced ears or lips. What unmarked flesh I could see bore these markings. So this had been a raiding party? No, with so few it was likely just meant to scout for targets.

As I looked around, I also noticed something else that struck me as odd, “I... I see no tracks. A beast so large and fierce, as to do this, where are its prints?”

Root Wisdom, despite the grave circumstances, gave me a pleased look. “You noticed as well. Good. True, there are no tracks. This was not the work of a cave bear or pack of geckos. Look up.”

I did so, confused as to what she wanted me to see. The fog was ever present, but I could still see the tops of the dead trees. I tilted my head, taking notice of how the branches of the trees were snapped in dozens of places, and one of the trees bore a great set of deep gouges, as if from two sets of frightfully large claws.

“It came from above?”

“Yes. I don’t know what manner of beast did this, but it came upon these Stone Teeth from above, likely last night not long after they made camp, and slew them before any could flee,” Root Wisdom said, expression still as a rock. Her eyes grew hard with contemplation, and I started casting uneasy glances at the fog choked air above us.

“We’ve no choice but to turn back,” Root Wisdom concluded at last, “A new beast in these mountains is too dire a threat for us to combat alone. We’ll return to the village and gather the warriors. Then, perhaps-”

Her words were drowned out by the abrupt sound of an unearthly screech that ripped through the fog, seemingly from all directions. The noise pierced me to my bones with freezing fear. I was rooted in place until Root Wisdom all but shook me forcefully and yelled in my face, “Run!”

Torn from my panicked stupor, I followed her out of the copse of trees, breaking through the brambles with no car for their scratching thorns. The screech sounded again, bouncing through the fog until it sounded like a host of howling spirits were chasing us. My heart tore against my chest in rapid, fear filled beats as I galloped headlong just a step behind Root Wisdom. Some part of my mind feared us running right over a cliff edge in this thick fog, but whatever was chasing us was surely intending a worse fate for us than that. Compared to the torn apart bodies of the Stone Teeth, I imagined a swifter end by falling wouldn’t be so bad, and pushed myself to gallop faster.

Then, wind stirred at my back, fierce and unnaturally powerful. I heard a sharp series of gusts from above, and saw the fog swirl and stir like churning soup. Something immense flashed overhead, huge, dark, and terrible. Claws of deep, mold green, tipped with black talons, reached down from above and snached Root Wisdom by her hindquarters. The old shaman let out a muffled yelp, and with pure speed and instinct wrenched herself around to stab at the thing holding her with her dagger.

The dagger did little, and the claws reflexively clenched tighter, and I heard Root Wisdom’s leg bone snap. She screamed, and was hauled higher into the fog. On pure reflex, my horn lit up and I hurled my own dagger heavenward, towards the shapeless mass in the fog. I don’t know if I hit anything or not, but the beast dropped Root Wisdom, sending her tumbling to the ground where she hit hard and lay still.

Drawing in panicking breaths I scrambled over to her. Her left hindleg was twisted terribly, with a piece of white bone sticking out just behind her lower thigh. Her eyes were dazed but she blinked, alive and coherent. I used my magic to lift her onto my back as the monster’s terrible screech echoed around us.

“Don’t be a fool, colt,” Root Wisdom rasped, “Drop me this instant and keep running!”

I ignored her. Not really out of any nobility, but because I was far too scared to pause and argue with the shaman. Keeping her secure on my back, I broke into a gallop once more. I heard what I now recognized not as gusts of wind, but the beating of gigantic, monstrous wings. Whatever this beast was, it was quickly circling around for another go at its prey.

I had no choice but to lower my head and pump my legs as fast as I could, heedless of obstacles or danger. Whether by luck or the providence of the spirits themselves, a sheer rock cliff resolved itself in front of us, reaching upwards. Yet within that cliff face I saw a crevasse, narrow enough for a pony to fit through, but perhaps not the monster that pursued us? I ran headlong for it, hearing the wing beats growing louder behind me.

I thought I could almost feel the prick of the monster’s claws at my flanks when I reached the crevasse and all but dove into it. I heard a titanic crash behind me, followed by an enraged shriek that nearly deafened me. I continued running, but within seconds, to my utter dismay, found the crevasse only went about a dozen or so paces deep before terminating in a rise too sheer to climb.

Gasping for breath, I turned to see what had chased us, and stared in wide eyed awe and humbled fear.

I’d on occasion spied birds of prey that roamed our lonely mountain, eagles or hawks that hunted the scarce fauna of the rocky valleys. Normally they were not any larger than a pony’s fore leg, if one didn’t count their wingspan, which could make them appear much larger when fully spread. The beast that had me and Root Wisdom trapped in this crevasse was large enough that even if one stacked ten ponies atop one another, they would not reach the crest of this terrible bird’s dark crested head. It bore some resemblance to an eagle, with mottled, pale gray feathers that blended in with the fog itself. Its eyes were twin black orbs, sitting behind a massive, sharp beak that even now tried to reach the wounded prey it now had cornered.

It couldn't fit inside the crevasse, but I wasn’t sure how much that mattered. Already I saw the humongous bird using its claws, which were unnaturally sharp, to scrape away chunks of stone from the entrance. If given time, it’d dig us out, and there was nowhere for me and Root Wisdom to go. It was only a matter of time, perhaps less than ten minutes, before our temporary sanctuary would be gone, and we’d share the fate of the Stone Teeth scouts.

“You should have left me, Heal Berry,” Root Wisdom said, voice strained with pain, and filling with aged sadness, “You may have escaped while it was making a meal of me.”

“Haven’t you told me, many times, to not dwell on mistakes, but instead learn from them?” I replied, somehow managing a very forced, almost manic smile of weak humor, “I promise the next time we’re chased by a horrible monster, I’ll leave you behind. No questions asked. You see? I’m a good student, who can learn.”

She barked out a laugh that was mitigated by her groan of pain, “Good. I was wondering if any of my lessons were sinking in. A shame none seem suited to getting us out of this mess.”

Her words poked at my mind nearly as much as my growing concern for the ever slowly widening gap in the crevasse that the titanic bird was digging before us. There had to be a way to survive this! I desperately cast about for a plan. The crevasse was empty save for a few loose rocks, which while I could throw them with my magic, they’d do little against something so mighty. I had lost my dagger, and Root Wisdom had dropped hers as well; not that the weapons would have been much use here either. All we had were our small packs of camping supplies and food, and the bags of gathered Cold Kiss Flowers.

I felt cold wind on me, and looked up. The crevasse went all the way up the cliff, to the very top where light came down in a pale beam, along with chill wind funneled down from the higher part of the mountain. It was steady, even rather strong, for an air current.

My eyes traced up and down that opening, impossible to climb, and then down the crevasse floor to the monstrous bird of prey growing slowly closer as its talons ripped more rock free. Then my eyes lit upon the bags of Cold Kiss Flowers.

With great speed, but as gently as I could, I took Root Wisdom off my back and put her at the very back of the crevasse.

“What are you doing?” she asked me as I took the bags of the poison flower we’d gathered.

“Thinking ‘outside the box’,” I told her and turned to face the crevasse entrance.

The bird was now perhaps able to get half its head inside the crevasse. Not close enough to reach us, and with a frustrated cry, it pulled back to keep digging. I unwrapped the bag of Cold Kiss Flowers and set the bushels of them down on the cold, dry stone floor. I all but tore off my own travel pack and fished out my flint stones and a bundle of dry tinder twigs used for starting campfires. With a fierce will and extreme focus I used my hooves to shield the tinder and bundles of poison flowers with my hooves and started striking the flint, sending sparks upon the tinder.

The tinder caught, and fire was born within the cluster of flowers. Smoke began to come forth, slowly at first, but soon in greater amounts. I held my breath to keep the fumes from reaching my lungs, at least until the bundled flowers were burning fiercely and creating a strong enough stream of smoke. Then I backed away, gathering the burning bundle in an aura of my magic and held it up to the wind blowing through the crevasse.

The wind carried the smoke like a steady river, straight into the face of the monstrous bird as it tried to shove its beak towards us.

Immediately the bird let out a hacking noise, rough and wet. It shook its head, slamming it into the sides of the crevasse, and tried to pull back. To lure it back in, I risked coming forward, shouting, “Hey! Hey you ugly bastard! Look at the tasty morsel you’re leaving behind!”

My voice caused the bird to home in on me, screeching as it lunged forward, and subsequently got another lungful of poisonous smoke. I danced backwards, the beak snapping within inches of me as I moved to the back of the crevasse. I kept the burning bundle high, letting the smoke continue to flow out of the crevasse and into the bird’s path.

As Root Wisdom had told me, in small does, the smoke from the Cold Kiss Flowers wouldn’t kill, but just paralyze, as it had in her little accident during her youth. But we’d gathered quite a bit of the flower in our journey, and I was burning all of it, and sending smoke nearly as thick as the fog outside right towards the bird’s face. And in its rage and hunger, it refused to leave, determined to get at its prey and unaware of the true danger of the smoke it was inhaling.

In another five minutes it may have torn away enough of the crevasse to get to me and Root Wisdom, but it took less than a minute for it to take in enough of the deadly Cold Kiss Flower’s poisonous smoke for the bird to seize up. Its body went rigid, as if frozen, and with a rattling croak it fell to its side, shaking the earth with its fall. It ceased breathing a few moments later, its entire body laying still as the poison froze it’s lungs and suffocated the mighty creature.

I threw the burning bundle outside, waiting until the last of it was gone and the smoke had faded away. I then waited another few minutes, just to be certain the terrible bird was well and truly dead. I then sank to the ground, all the strength leaving my body as my fear shook me and I wept into the ground, realizing just how close that had all been.

Root Wisdom, ever a pillar, even while badly wounded, patted my flank comfortingly.

“That was well done, colt. I hadn’t thought of that myself, and feel a bit of a fool for not doing so.”

I pulled myself together and stood once more on somewhat shaky legs, smiling back at my mentor. “I didn’t even know if that was going to work.”

“Most plans are like that,” Root Wisdom said, looking down at her broken leg with a sharp grimace, “Oh, but this is going to be a true pain to heal. Help me up, Heal Berry. I can already imagine infection setting into this, and I’d like to get back to the village quickly.”

I had no complaints about that, and carefully gathered her onto my back once more. She was incredibly light, all things considered. As we exited the crevasse, I cast a still frightful and awed look over the corpse of the gargantuan bird.

“You truly have no idea what this is?” I asked, and Root Wisdom shook her head.

“I’ve never even heard stories of such creatures, and little wonder why. We may be the first ponies to have survived an encounter with one.”

“I hope there aren’t any more of them,” I said, shivering.

“Well, this one certainly didn’t spring fully formed from the ground,” Root Wisdom replied, “No doubt there are others. Let us pray to the spirits this one’s presence in our lands is a mere fluke, and not a sign of some manner of beastly migration.”

I shook off that dire thought and began the long trek back home. The fog cleared up by the time night fell, and by then I’d used what little I could scrounge to begin rudimentary treatment of Root Wisdom’s leg, re-setting the bone and using her directions and find and mix a few roots and herbs into a powder that would help keep infection at bay. All the while I thought of what Root Wisdom had asked the night before, and the terrifying memory of the monster bird’s attack.

“I think I have an answer to your question,” I told her as we camped in a familiar cave, not at all far from our village. She was laying comfortably by the campfire, only grimacing every now and then from lingering pain. She looked at me questioningly.

“About the lesson,” I said, “What I’d learned. Those Cold Kiss Flowers, the poison inside them, it’s very dangerous. Deadly to anypony who doesn’t understand them. Yet that same poison can be turned into a tool for the good of the tribe, used to mix cures, or made into a weapon to fend off dangers. It just takes understanding, respect, and knowledge to apply it. And that... applies to everything, doesn’t it? Everything in this world, from the fire we use to warm our village’s tents, to the stone we use to forge our spears, to the poison of simple flower, can all be useful with the right knowledge.”

Root Wisdom was silent for a time, then let a soft series of chuckles as she laid her head down to rest, “Actually I mostly just wanted you to learn to stop touching things without asking what they are first, but I like your answer better. Now shut up and get some sleep, colt, it’s been a long day.”

I watched her with a faint twitch in my eye as my mentor went to sleep, and gently started snoring. After a moment I could only shake my head and let out a hapless little laugh, letting the tension of my recent experiences out into the cool night air. I was far from ready to become my tribe’s next shaman, and Root Wisdom had many more lessons to teach me, but I was starting to realize that “wisdom” isn’t something that could be taught. You had to earn it yourself, in your own way, every day you live. The poison of the Cold Kiss Flowers had taught me to respect even the smallest things, and to use my head when thinking about how such things could be used to keep myself and the tribe alive. It wasn’t a lesson I was going to forget anytime soon.

Author's Note

By thatguyvex

Q is for Quiet, fall silent when you see violet

In the old gem Mine the former home to the ferocious hellhounds, that alone would scare away normal ponies. But according to reports hellhounds have abandoned the mines as of recently causing many more attacks on nearby towns, so the NCR has decided to conduct an investigation into why the hounds abandoned their territory. When the soldiers arrived they found something that can only be described as a nightmare.

The Raptor swayed slightly as it soared through the sky heading toward the mine, the loud sound of its engine drowns out the sounds of the soldiers talking in the back. Among the soldiers sat a small unicorn who was looking out one of the windows, this unicorn is Captain Hickory.

Hickory ignored the others as she thought about what could cause the Hounds to abandon their precious gems. As the Captain thought she also remembers the intel she gathered from old records about the mine, it was the main source of gemstones used in making magic cells for anything requiring them to function from weapons to technology.

Hickory suspected there might be an ulterior motive for this investigation but it was not her place to question orders. Soon Hickory spotted the mine and turned her gaze away from the window to ready herself for the mission, making sure her uniform was on correctly. Unlike the other soldiers who were decked out in heavy magic armor, she has dressed in a simple NCR uniform with body armor underneath for protection if need be. The lieutenant also double-checked her Magic Rifle making sure it has a decent charge just in case they run into some trouble.

As the chariot began its descent to land near the southern end of the mine, the others began their own equipment checks. Hickory looked at them, her golden gaze landed upon a smaller earth pony named Ripple. Ripple is the new mare who joined the squad a month ago, she has a habit of freezing up in tense situations but the NCR is running low on soldiers due to a battle being held in the western badlands. Ripple is also Hickory's Niece who keeps an eye out for the young earth pony.

"You ok Rip?" the aged unicorn asked her anxious niece who had a terrified look in her eyes.

"I am just nervous, we are about to enter Hellhound territory to figure out what caused them to leave their home. It must have been something that is scarier than the hounds themselves," The uneasy pony replied giving a visible shutter.

"I highly doubt that, " the Captain says trying to calm the anxious pony. "And if there is I'll keep you safe ok. Plus they would have to get through the entirety of the Zeta Squad we protect our own." she then raises her voice. "Ain't that right Squad!"

"SIR YES, SIR!" The squad agreed loudly.

"See, " The unicorn stood up and placed her hoof on Ripple's shoulder. "We protect each other, so no need to be scared, just keep an eye out for your fellow soldier."

"Ok aun- I mean Captain Hickory, " Ripple acknowledged with a smile.

"Alright Zeta Squad as you all know we are here to investigate why the hounds abandoned their mine and remove it so the hounds can return home and stop attacking our towns." The Captain informed the squad. "And hopefully we can use this as a stepping stone to becoming allies with the hounds."

"Zat is ridiculous, " A soldier commented and from the accent, Hickory identify him as corporal Blizzard Wing a pegasus. "Hounds and Ponies are not supposed to get along."

"And the higher-ups want us to at least get them to return home, " Hickory resumed, ignoring the pegasus. "Now we are going into tight and confined tunnels so watch your shots, we don't need any friendly fire." The Sky chariot landed with a solid thud. "Alright let's get moving."

At the order, the soldiers marched out and took up defensive positions their guns pointed in all directions in case of ambush.

"Area secure, " Blizzard announced. "No signs of an ambush."

"Good that means those filthy mutts weren't lying, " a soldier muttered under her breath.

"Save the comments for later Wasp, " Hickory said approaching the opening. "Apricot and butter, stay by the sky chariot and make sure nothing follows us inside."

"Yes sir, " A small unicorn mare confirmed and a nod from a large earth pony stallion stood next to her. "We got it, boss.”

"Alright team let's get moving, " Hickory ordered before taking the first step into the mine. It was abandoned and dusty scarcely illuminated by small dim lanterns hanging from the ceiling, as Hickory walked further into the mine a dense smell of rotting flesh hit her like a train.

"God it smells terrible in here, " Ripple commented covering her nose. "How do hounds deal with it?"

"I don't think they do Rip, " Wasp said shining a light on a large corpse of a hound brood mother. "I think we are dealing with something more dangerous than anything we were expecting." Wasp took a closer look at the large corpse seeing it had large lacerations across its body as if by a blade of some kind. "Either it's a mutant creature with blades for limbs or we are dealing with a sentient creature most likely one that can swing a blade hard enough to kill a large hellhound like this one."

"Damn it I don't like this one sec, " Hickory muttered to herself, "It looked like this body was left here on purpose but I don't know if by the hounds as a warning or by the thing that killed it as if to taunt any creature who step into its territory."

"What was that Boss, " Ripple inquired having heard the captain muttering.

"Hey i see move movement in Dis direction, " Blizzard yells pointing his rifle into a tunnel, at a dim violet light moving in the dark that immediately changed direction it was heading and rushed towards the pegasus. "What the F-" he didn't finish what he was about to say as a violet light glowed intensely as a harpoon lanced itself into his chest before he was jerked into the darkness by an unseen enemy.

Hickory and Wasp ran to the tunnel with guns raised to help blizzard but only saw darkness and in the distance, they heard Blizzard scream only to get cut off sudden which was followed by a roar that sounded like a hound but was distorted and sounded anguished.

"Oh my gods that thing killed Blizzard, " Ripple said covering her mouth.

"Damn it, " Wasp cursed slamming her hoof against the stone wall.

"Ok we need more soldiers for this mission, let's get out of here, " The captain said motioning for the others to follow her. "Whatever this thing is it's too much for us to handle by ourselves."

As they return to the entrance to the tunnel they hear gunfire coming from outside where the raptor landed. The trio ran to the opening just in time to see the raptor explode and sending Apricot flying into heavy machinery that collapsed from the sudden impact crushing the small pony under the immense weight of the machine killing her.

Butter was firing at something but what it was was obscured by the wreckage of the raptor before a large hound jumped on him before crushing his windpipe. The hound looked off to Hickory, the veteran soldier has fought many Hellhounds but this one had a faint greenish glow to several markings that traced his body, his mouth opens slightly as eerie green haze flows down his open jaw.

"Quick back into the cave, " Hickory ordered as the enormous hound looked at the three witnesses to his kill and lets out a loud unnatural roar. "Run now!"

The others didn't hesitate as they ran back inside, Hickory stood her ground her Magic Rifle drawn. I have to find a way to slow that thing down to buy them some time to get away, she thought as the hound grew closer. Her horn ignited as the aura surrounded the burning wreckage of the raptor. The hound pounced and was slammed into the side of the mountain, Hickory Let out a scream of pain grabbing her head. Damn, I ain't as young as I use to be Celestia's mercy that hurt, she turned and follows the others into the cave

Ripple ran until her lungs hurt she stopped to catch her breath, soon Wasp turned to the earth pony with a look of concern.

"Hey Rip, you ok you not freaking out or anything like that?" Ripple asked, trying her best to hide the fear in her voice. “Cuz I am.”

“You would have to be insane to not freak out,” Wasp answered between breaths, looking around at the tunnels they ran into noting a soft dim red light coming from the end of the tunnel. ”We need to find Hickory and get out of here I think that hound isn't the only thing in here with us.”

”What? You mean there is something else that could attack us at any moment?” the Earth pony said her voice squeaked in fear.

”Yes, that mutt didn't attack us in the cave that had to be something else, ” Wasp clarified for the Earth pony. ”and it means we need to keep moving we don't have time to freak out.”

”R-Right!” Ripple agreed, her voice shaking as she turned toward the red light in the tunnel. ”What is that over there?”

”I dunno, but we need to find a way out of here, maybe it's an emergency exit, ” the Pegasus said as she walked toward the light source. ”Ripple keep an eye out we don't need to run into another Nasty critter.”

”Yes, ma’am, ” the other pony acknowledged raising her rifle as she followed the Pegasus.

Where are they, Hickory thought as she stumbled through the tunnels grabbing her head, Celestia, that was stupid for me to do. Hickory trembled as a wave of pain surged through her horn, the dim lights flickered as she walked. What the hell was wrong with that hound, she thought back to the encounter from earlier and how unnatural that hound seemed like it was something else entirely.

As the unicorn walk aimlessly through the tunnel she soon finds a strange purple light, curious she approached it. As she drew closer the light moved erratically toward her. She unarmed, having dropped her magic rifle during her stupid magic stunt, jumped into a nearby tunnel and hid inside. The light slowed as it draws closer, Hickory held her breath praying to Celestia it didn't see her. The light stopped in front of the tunnel the unicorn was hiding in.

Hickory got a good look at the light or more accurately the creature. It was grotesque with a gorilla-like body with purple stones growing out of it's back, it's paws we're sharp, pointed and coated in a glowing purple substance that smelled of decay, and it lacked eyes. The massive creature sniffed the air and grunted before turning away.

Hickory let out a sigh of relief and immediately a spear hit the cave wall next to her face cutting her cheek. The Beast walked towards Hickory, who fell silent. As the violet beast approached it reached for its spear, hickory seeing this as an opportunity to catch the creature off guard she slowly pulled a knife out of her coat.

Suddenly a loud noise like that of a stable door opening filled the tunnels, the beast suddenly turned and left the unicorn to chase the noise. Hickory held her breath until she felt positive that the beast was out of ear shot, slowly she got up and looked at the spear embedded into the rock wall. It was easily two meters long, with her magic she yanked the spear from the wall and looked at the tip it was one of the glowing crystals coated with the violet substance that was on its claws.

Why would it coat the spear it makes it visible, the veteran unicorn thought as she studied the tip. Suddenly her cheek began to burn where she was cut by the spear and her eyes widen with realization, It's poison or something like that, but why would something like that need poison?

I need to find the others before that beast finds them she ran off in the direction of the beast certain that sound was them.

”Who knew there was a Stable down here, ” Ripple remarked as she stepped inside following Wasp.

”Yeah, but it doesn't surprise me, ” Wasp said as she stopped noting one of the doors was smashed in a way something was coming out. ”but this might not be your typical Stable, it doesn't even have a number meaning this was off the record.”

”Why would it be off the record? I thought they were made to help ponies,” Ripple asked looking back at the open door.

”I dunno, but if I was a betting mare I would say our current predicament has something to do with it, ” the pegasus mare replied as she walked further into the Stable with her earth pony companion following close behind.

As the two of them explored the Stable they found the orchard where the stable inhabitants grew and harvested apples, but something was strange about the apples.

”Are those apples glowing?” The pegasus soldier asked no one in particular.

”I think so, but why?” Ripple asked just as confused.

”I don't know but I am definitely not eating those apples, ” Wasp uttered as she looked around the area only finding weird glowing rocks scattered about the orchard. ”What kinda rocks are these?”

Ripple didn't move from her spot under the tree but her eyes wandered off when she saw movement in the hallway they walked down to get to the orchard and a faint sound of claws clicking against the metal floor.

”Wasp there is something in here with us, ” Ripple said pointing her rifle at the door as wasp stepped near her.

”What do you see Rip?” Wasp asked her gun pointed at the door as well.

”I-, ” Ripple was cut off by a spear flying through the opening and hitting the earth pony in the chest with enough force to pin her to a tree.

”No!” Wasp yelled as she opened fire on the opening she heard a screech that was followed by a roar as the Beast charged into the room, wasp spread her wings and took to the sky to stay out of the reach of the beast's claws.

This, however, didn't deter the beast as it began climbing a tree and leaped at the pegasus who dodged it but barely.

”Damn it's fast, ” Wasp said as she tried to position herself to shoot at the beast.

Hickory wasn't far behind the beast as she heard somepony scream no and the sound of gunfire, without thinking she ran into the stable only armed with the spear the creature threw at her. As she ran the sting in her cheek was replaced by a warm feeling that started to spread across her skin, the poison is acting quicker I need to get Ripple and Wasp out of the mine before the poison kills me.

As she ran the gunfire grew louder, soon she found herself in the orchard and saw the pegasus and the Beast fighting. Well seems Wasp has the beast distracted, But where is-? She froze when her eyes landed on Ripple pinned to the tree. No! I was too late, her eyes welled up with tears, I am sorry Ripple I couldn't keep my promise.

The Beast roared in anger as it tried to catch the pegasus again. Wasp wings started to grow heavy she was getting tired from the quick maneuvers she had to do to keep out of reach. She couldn't keep this up much longer as the beast prepared another leap, she prepared for the eventual pounce but it never came as a loud bang from the other side of the orchard distracted the beast long enough so the exhausted pegasus could fly further away from the beast.

The beast was confused by the new sound it sniffed the air before abandoning the elusive pegasus and hoped the new prey would be easier to catch. The banging was being made by Hickory who was hitting the metal wall with the butt of the spear.

Hickory stood there her eyes red from crying and a feeling of rage overcome her, she was going to kill this beast for what it did to her niece and rid its existence from Equestria. The beast stepped closer its putrid scent filling her nose, she readied the spear, her magic aiming the blade at the beasts head, as the beast got closer the veteran soldier's rage grew as soon as the beast was only two steps away did the unicorn shot the spear with all her magical power at the Beast's head the blade shot through its skull killing the creature.

"That's for Ripple," The unicorn said as the dead creature collapsed, soon after the intense warm feeling in her skin increased to painful levels and the feeling of being burned alive. "Damn it burns," she places a hoof on her cheek and is surprised to feel wetness there, removing her hoof and looking at it she was shocked to see the glowing purple substance leaking from the cut.

Wasp landed next to the unicorn, a look of worry on her face. She first looked at the beast and at the fact that half its head was almost cleaved in two by the massive spear. She then looked Hickory.

"I'm so sorry captain that thing caught us off guard," The pegasus said her head hanging low. "I wish it was me instead of her."

"Don't Say That!" Hickory snapped at the pegasus. "Ripple wouldn't want that, if she was in your place she would say the same thing," the elder pony said looking at Wasp. "We need to focus on getting out of here and we can mourn the dead and feel sorry for ourselves when we get back home."

"Yes Captain," the pegasus uttered quietly.

"Good, now since that thing is dead, we should be able to return to the surface and use the radio to request an evac." the Captain said pulling the spear out of the beasts skull.

"Ok captain lead the way." As they walked Wasp noted the staggering of the captain who seemed to have trouble breathing, concern for the unicorn the pegasus leaned against her to help stabilize the unicorn.

"Thanks, Wasp." the captain muttered. the rest of the walk out of the mine was silent only the wheezing of the captain as her condition worsened. Once outside the mine Wasp's heart sank the radio was aboard the Raptor they arrived on and not it was crushed like a paper ball.

"What now we need a radio so we can get you some help captain." Wasp questioned the sick captain.

"Even if you did find a radio i will most likely be dead before help arrived," Hickory informed the pegasus. "I knew this before we even left the Stable," The captain smiled at the pegasus. "It was my last mission to make sure you the last member of Zeta Squad got out safe before I died."

"Don't talk like that captain your going to be fine," Wasp said hysterically.

"Don't worry Wasp its my time, hell I cheated death long enough," Hickory coughed. "Make sure to tell the NCR about what we found down there and what happened to us ok."

"I promise captain," Wasp promised her voice trembling.

With a smile on her face, Hickory faded away, leaving Wasp as the last survivor.

Author's Note

By Chaotic Flier

S is for starvation, lest it lead to your damnation

Hunger.

You don’t think of it, not normally. You might get a little hungry around lunch, and think “Oh! It’s time to eat.” and off you trot to whatever cafe you and your friends have decided is the best spot for casual chit chat, maybe some flirting with a cute waiter. You don't really think about the emptiness in your stomach, all those fluids roiling around in on themselves with nothing to digest. True hunger isn't something usually experienced in modern Equestrian society.

Pity that Equestrian society ended a year ago.

Dutchie stood, cracking her spine. Her body ached and cramped from sleeping on a bed that was sagging to the floor, the springs and stuffing bursting through decayed seams. She ran her tongue over what was left of her teeth, feeling the morning gunk that had built up overnight. She grimaced at the taste in her mouth, searching her bag for a small bottle of water. Washing her mouth with pure water would be wasteful, so irradiated foulness spread across her tongue, hastening the painful breakdown of her teeth.

She sighed, staring out the windows at what had once been a small but bustling community, flourishing under a watchful noble eye. Some would have called it a backwater town, but it had its own charm. They had been sent here on some errand or another, a mission from Lady Rarity. A whisper here, a rumor there, a dash of poison in the right tea cup, and that Noble's little empire would have slowly collapsed in on itself, leaving the land ripe for the pickings of another rich pony to take over. A favour, Lady Rarity had said. One bad noble removed, a better put in his place. Dutchie snorted. A favour, bought and paid for by that so called better noble. She knew how it worked. The ultimate quid pro quo on a scale most couldn't dream of, and her squad was the shadows that moved on behalf of the broker.

Her squad. Tears would have filled her eyes, but they had long since dried in this arid wasteland of crumbling buildings and faintly glowing snow. She had come here only with one other, her beautiful friend who she had watched burn in an uncontrollable green fire which had rained from the skies. All that had remained was the dirty pink hat she always wore, which Dutched Cocoa now jammed down on her head. She had to go out today, the next town over. She had run out of food a month ago, but a band of wandering ponies had kept her trapped in this little village. They would come at night, screaming with radiation induced madness, seeking out survivors to torture or indoctrinate into their herd, taking the last of the food and water. It was amazing that it had taken less than a year for ponies to turn on each other after the sky had filled with bombs. Where helping and friendship would have rebuilt communities, instead the anxiety and fear that flourished during the war had tipped over, spilling across the land and engulfing ponies in its wake.

She was nothing but skin and bones after a month of no food, her once rich black and white coat now patchy and bare over her ribs. It was over this last month she had come to understand that as hard as her life had been before she was employed by Lady Rarity, she had never truly known what it was like to face starvation. Her stomach had stopped rumbling long ago, and now it was just a constant hollow feeling, an emptiness that cramped and gnawed at the edges of her mind. Dutchie didn’t have much in the way of fat reserves in the first place, she had always been thin, and now her body was weak in ways she hadn’t experienced before. Every movement was an effort, every moment spent hiding. The monsters that came at night had taken the rest, house by house, shop by shop. Now she had to move, get to the next town. Find food. Live.

Daybreak. Time to go. Stealthily she moved through the ruined streets, the ground pockmarked by debris that had rained down from above so long ago. Placing her hooves carefully so as to not dislodge any rubble, she moved slowly. The morning was cold against her raw skin, ashy snowflakes falling gently from the ever present blanket of clouds. She could hear the ponies, if they could even be called that now, at the edge of the town. It was like they never slept, but they wouldn’t go far from their camp while it was bright out. They were talking and laughing about something, she could smell their campfire. Good, that meant she was downwind. They wouldn’t smell her own stench, unwashed body and infected wounds. She kept moving, she would have to go close to them in order to get around the lake that the town was bordering. From there she could slip into the leafless woods, her dark coat would help to meld her body with the shadows.

One hoof in front of the other. One breath, stop, allow the shakes to pass, then next hoof. She could hear the fire crackling, and their conversation was becoming more distinct. They were talking about their breakfast, commenting on how juicy it was. Dutchie paused, her hunger stirring within her. The hollow feeling, once able to be ignored, now began to awaken, twisting and cramping. Her mouth began to water. Juicy? What could possibly be juicy a year after the world ended? Creeping forward, she peered over a wall at the flames in the hazy morning light. There was something on the fire, a spit being turned. Squinting against the glare, she watched the juices fall from the lump of food, sizzling against the coals. She began to shake, fixated upon the food. Something flopped down as the spit turned, waving to her in slow motion. Waving, like a...hoof. It was a pony. They were eating part of a pony! Disgust and revulsion overtook her hunger, but only briefly, only as long as it took for the wind to change and blow the scent of cooked meat her way. She had never eaten meat, ponies were vegetarians. But she hadn’t eaten in so long. So very long. It smelled savoury and sweet, like hot coals and fried apple skin. The shaking had stopped, and her horrified mind began to imagine sinking her teeth into the cooked lump of meat, tearing it away and drinking the blood inside, the fat coating her lips in a glossy sheen. She tried to shake her head to clear the unholy thoughts, but a fresh wave of the scent of cooking washed over her, pulling her vision into a tunnel. Ethics be damned, food was food.

Three ponies lay about the fire, discussing their breakfast. One had a leg or something and was waving it about, the others throwing bones into the flames. Dutchie could see them, smell them. She was weak, so weakened from hunger. In her prime she could have taken them all down, but now, she would have to be cunning. The smell of roasted meat filled her mind, and she was off running, racing towards the flames, cunning plans discarded in the desperation for sustenance. The hat of her beloved friend slipped from her head unnoticed. Shouts rang in her ears, but she was faster than them. Hunger spurred her hooves, casting the weakness aside. She leaped through the fire, grabbing the meat in her teeth. It was hot, burning her mouth, the heat singer her hooves, but she didn’t stop. She kept sprinting, the fatty juices running across her tongue in a tantalising and delightful torture. Swallowing against her own drool, Dutchie jumped on top of the caravan of the ponies, staring down at them. Weapons were aimed at her, but she didn’t care. She had food. Real, actual, hot food that tasted surprisingly good. Any queasiness she felt at the knowledge that this had once been a living, breathing pony vanished under the heavy flavours attacking her tongue. Hunkering down, she teared at the crispy skin, relishing the feelings of chewing and swallowing.. The ponies below fired a few shots into the air, and began to rock the caravan, shouting abuse and threats. She didn’t care, her mind, her soul, her very body, was consumed by the taste of the pony.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, what was left of the decent pony she used to be began to scream.

Author's Note

By thecyanidefairy

T is for Train

T is for Train, if by chance you see a train, don't feel bad to relieve the pain, but be careful not to offend, otherwise your journey might meet a bitter end.

"That sounds dumb." Cold Coal groaned.

"What do you mean?" White Whistle asked, "it's a great marketing catchphrase for the train."

The two brothers stood in the engineering car, arguing on the subject at hoof.

"'If by chance you see a train, don't feel bad to relieve your strain!' It sounds like you're telling our customers to go use the toilet."

Cold Coal was the oldest, a strong gray earth pony stallion with a firm jaw. His eyes the color of embers in a fire pit. He wore some gray overalls covered in black dust.

"My thought was that we are telling them to sit down and relieve the strain on the muscles." Whistle replied.

White Whistle was a unicorn stallion with a light gray coat. A pristine, blue train conductor's uniform rested well against his frame. Amber eyes peered from beneath his cap.

Despite their difference in appearance Coal and Whistle were in fact brothers, albeit from different mothers. When Coal was young his mother had passed away at the hooves of raiders. A few years later, his father met and fell in love with a unicorn mare. After eleven months, Whistle was born.

"Even if that's your intention," Coal said, "that isn't what it sounds like. Besides do we really need any advertising? We're probably the only locomotive transportation in the wasteland. It isn't like we have any competition."

"But we do," Whistle answered, "we are limited by the tracks, so we need to find ways to motivate ponies to come spend a few caps riding our train instead of crossing the country by hoof."

"Speaking of customers," Coal said, "shouldn't you be checking some tickets?"

"I suppose you're right," Whistle chuckled, "I'll check on our passengers, you just make sure that the engine is running properly."

Opening the door, White Whistle made his way to the passenger car where their customers would be seated. As he entered the car, a warm smile graced his lips, a contrast to the harsh, cold weather outside.

It was said, that before the bombs fell that the Crystal Empire was once a noble kingdom. Now it was a harsh, snowy wasteland filled with mutated beasts, raiders and slavers. Due to the harsh weather, radiation and aforementioned threats, passing through the frosty tundra could be quite difficult. Fortunately, Whistle and his brother provided a quick, safe way to travel for those wishing to do so. So long as they followed the rules there was nothing to fear.

The interior of the cars were carefully crafted to be nice and cozy. The walls and floor were made of wooden planks with a piece of metal that ran along the wall, underneath the window seals to serve as an additional barrier of protection. The metal was painted a deep forest green or so the paintcan had claimed. The wooden benches that made up the rows possessed green cushions. From the ceiling were a few lights that ran down the center of the aisles. On the floor mirroring the lights was a makeshift green carpet that went down the aisle.

Whistle's horn glowed with golden energy as he pulled a small metal device from his pocket with his magic. It was a ticket puncher or so their father had called it, a pre-war item preserved through the ages and a gift from Whistle's late father.

"Tickets please!" Whistle called out, "Prepare your tickets!"

This was a routine, passed down to him from his father and even from before the great war. Centuries ago a conductor would do the exact thing, punching tickets and greeting the passengers. It was meant as a distraction, to help aid the passengers in forgetting about the wasteland outside and to just relax.

Walking down the aisle, Whistle attempted to familiarize himself with his customers. Some of them were ponies down on their luck, spending their last few caps in hopes of finding a new starting point elsewhere. Some were families seeking to escape raider incursions. Perhaps there was a mare or stallion trying to run away from a steep debt. And then there was the occasional pony who had struck it big and was using the train to visit their numerous settlements.

But here on the Sol-Treader Express, none of that mattered. This train was its own territory and as long as the passengers followed the rules they would be enjoying a safe ride.

With each ticket that was given to Whistle, he would use the ticket puncher to pierce two holes into the piece of paper. The cut outs the shape of the sun, a reminder of what had once roamed the skies.

In one of the rows was a young colt that Whistle recognized as Spiked Gum, who was looking out the window nervously. Something that would be expected of somepony under his circumstances. He was a young earth pony with a pale pink coat and dirty blue mane.

"Hello lad," Whistle said, "could I have your ticket please?"

Silently, Gum gave Whistle the ticket.

Apparently, Spiked Gum's family had been killed in a raider attack on their settlement. Fortunately the colt had survived and had mysteriously braved the icy tundra all the way to Gemstock.

Taking Gum's ticket, White Whistle used the puncher on it and returned it with a warm smile. "Enjoy the trip."

White Whistle was about to proceed when he felt something tug on his uniform. Turning, Whistle saw that Spiked Gum had reached out with a hoof.

"Mister are we going to be safe?" Spiked Gum asked.

Making false promises wasn't something Whistle was keen on doing. They would be traveling through the wasteland and there was no guarantee that something wouldn’t happen anyway.

"I can assure you that we will do everything possible to keep everypony here safe." Whistle said with a smile.

This response seemed to satisfy Spiked Gum as the colt returned Whistle's smile and let go of his uniform.

Whistle smiled as he came to the last set of seats where two mares were sitting. While most of the other ponies on the train wore old, tattered or ragged clothes, these two mares wore more formal attire. One was a young mare wearing a maid's uniform while the second elderly mare wore a deep maroon dress, over which she wore a heavy fur coat. Despite the heating talismans keeping the interior of the train car warm, the elderly mare appeared to be chilled. Looking this latter mare over, Whistle recognized her as Miss Silvermane.

Miss Silvermane was the leader of the CWAS, Crystal Wastes Archivist Society, which possessed a sizeable amount of power in the frozen north. A family company passed down the female line from before the great war.

"Hello ladies," Whistle greeted, "tickets please."

While the maid gave Whistle a smile for his greeting, Miss Silvermane kept looking forward , a condescending expression upon her face. The maid presented both the tickets for her mistress and her, to White Whistle.

"Thank you, sir." The maid said as Whistle took the tickets and used the puncher on them.

"The pleasure is all mine, ma'am." Whistle said with a smile.

White Whistle had to admit that the maid looked cute. Perhaps if she was interested he might be able to give her a personal tour of the train.

"For Celestia's sake, quit flirting with the young colt, Lily." Miss Silvermane grumbled.

Well, it seemed that such a tour would have to be on hold for now.

The conductor maintained his composure in spite of Silvermane's brash nature, and returned the marked tickets. Considering Miss Silvermane's high position, Whistle was a bit surprised that the rich mare had chosen to ride in the main passenger cars instead of taking one of the private cars.

"Please enjoy your stay."

Lily gave Whistle a soft smile, her cheeks tinted pink, before she returned her attention back to her mistress.

Now that the tickets were all checked the journey could begin. Heading to the back of the passenger car, Whistle opened a wooden box that was mounted on the wall to reveal an intercom inside. Pulling out the phone like device, Whistle spoke into it.

"Thank you all for your patience, we shall now begin our journey from Gemstock to Cryptmane," Whistle announced, "please sit back and please enjoy the ride."

The train's whistle blew and the locomotive began to move. As the pistons moved the metal wheels gradually began to pick up their pace, moving faster and faster along the tracks.

Closing the intercom box, Whistle walked back up toward the engine room to check on Coal. Coal sat in front of a terminal looking at various gauges and knobs. Of all these devices, one was especially important. A red gauge with a big zero on one side and a bright one hundred on the other side.

"How does it look?" Whistle inquired.

Coal looked up from the terminal, peeking over his shoulder to his brother. "It's looking a little close, but as long as we maintain our course, we should keep from hitting zero."

"Very good," Whistle replied, "in that case I will head back to my quarters and take a quick nap. Let me know if anything comes up."

Leaving the engine car, White Whistle began to walk back to the caboose, checking on the passengers as he went by.

The Sol Treader had been the legacy of Coal and Whistle's father, grandfather and even great grandfather. Supposedly, great grandpa had found the train engine car by itself in the center of a raider camp, being worshiped by the crazed cannibals. After fending off the fiends, he had retrieved the engine car and started crafting more cars to form an actual train line. While most of the ponies in the wasteland would have said it was foolishness, White Whistle knew the truth behind such madness.

It was a part of the curse.

Reaching the caboose, Whistle opened the door and stepped inside.

The caboose's interior was set up with a bed, a desk and a map of the train routes nailed onto the wall. On the desk was a small illustration of White Whistle, Cold Coal and their father, Blazing Trail. It had been drawn by Whistle's mother back when she was still alive.

Putting his hat on the desk, Whistle lay down on his bed and drifted off to sleep. He had probably managed to fall asleep for fifteen minutes before his slumber was disturbed.

There was a knock at the door, pulling the conductor back from the realm of sleep. Sitting up from his bed, Whistle walked over to the door and opened it. On the other side of the door, Whistle saw that it was Ember, an earth pony mare and a member of the Rail Bender family.

Decades ago, the Rail Benders had made a bargain with Coal and Whistle's grandfather, that they would help maintain the railroad tracks and in exchange they would enjoy the safety of the train. Even after learning about the curse, the Rail Benders had continued to serve.

"Sir, there is something you need to see." Ember said.

"What is it?" Whistle inquired.

"It would seem we have a stowaway, sir."

The act of sneaking aboard the train could have serious consequences for those on board. It could result in a food shortage, damaged goods or even injured passengers, all of which were unacceptable. Because of this, there was severe disciplinary action to deal with such matters.

"Did you throw them off?" Whistle asked.

"No, we haven't."

"Why not?"

"As I said, sir, you might want to see this."

Taking a deep breath, Whistle left his quarters and followed Ember toward the storage cars. In front of the door to the car was Salty, an elderly earth pony stallion carrying a shotgun. Another member of the Rail Bender family, Salty had been working on the train as long as Whistle could remember. If he was here with his trusty shotgun, something had to be of concern.

"Have they made anymore noise?" Ember asked.

"Nah," Salty shook his head slowly.

"Alright, who or what is it we are dealing with here?" Whistle asked.

Both Ember and Salty looked at each other, concern in their eyes. Finally Salty broke the silence. "It might be wise, if you saw it for yourself."

Salty opened the door to the car, his gun anchored firmly to his makeshift battle saddle. After reaching a couple boxes, Salty motioned for Whistle to proceed. White Whistle followed Salty's directions, with Ember following, Whistle rounded the crates to see who had warranted such attention.

There lying on the ground was what appeared to be a mare, her form covered with white cloth like a cloak, with golden chains binding her. A golden chain reached out from under her hood, stretching across the floor like a serpent.

"We found her in one of the crates." Salty said.

"How did she get there?" Whistle asked.

"I don't know," Salty answered, "but we have best be wary. Those golden chains, that's a sign that she was taken to be a slave for Golden Hoof."

"Oh, poor filly." Ember groaned.

White Whistle had heard of the infamous Golden Hoof. Of all the slaver gangs in the Crystal Wastes of the north, Golden Hoof's operation was the most powerful and wealthy. Taking slaves to dig in the frozen rubble to bring forth valuable gems, which could be used to power ancient machines from before the war. Golden Hoof also had a reputation of kidnapping mares and adding them to his own personal harem.

Standing there, looking at the bound slave, a mixture of thoughts flowed through his mind. On one hoof, he should just throw the slave out for sneaking her way onto the train. On another hoof, Whistle wasn't a big fan of the slave trade and a part of him felt compassion for the poor filly. Then there was the little nightmare on his shoulder, whispering how many caps they could receive if she was returned to her master, however, Whistle quickly repressed the thought.

"Ember, do we have any private cars available?" Whistle inquired.

"There is one available, sir." Ember answered.

"Okay, take our guest here to the car and see if you can unbind her."

"Are you sure that is wise?" Salty asked, as White Whistle went to the door.

"We don't deal in slaves," Whistle replied, "we'll free her and leave her at one of the towns along our route."

"Yes, sir."

Leaving the storage car, Whistle took a deep breath.

Slowly, Whistle made his way back to the front car, checking on the passengers as he passed by.

Reaching the door to the engine room, Whistle paused, preparing himself for his brother's reaction. No doubt, Cold Coal would be displeased. After all, this hadn't been the first time something like this had happened. Not with a slave of course, but still.

After taking a deep breath, Whistle opened the door.

"Hey Coal there is something I need to tell you."

Coal continued to work on adjusting the furnace. "What is it?"

"We had a stowaway on board, a young mare."

"Did you have her thrown off the train?" Coal continued to speak through the wrench in his mouth.

"No."

The wrench fell from Coal's muzzle. "Are you serious! That's one additional mouth to feed, you know that!"

"I'm aware," Whistle replied, "but she's a slave and she needs our help."

"Everypony needs help, the world is crumbling around us and everypony is doing what they can to survive! However that doesn't mean we can afford to help them! Not with the trouble we are already in!"

"I'm not saying that we take her on the full trip. Just to the next settlement is all."

Cold Coal was quiet, but Whistle could tell that his brother was fuming on the inside.

"You’re taking responsibility for this," Coal stated, "all the food she eats is coming out of your rations. Understood."

White Whistle nodded. "Understood."

Cold Coal let out a deep sigh. "I just wish you would think more with your head and less with your heart or whatever it is you think with."

Whistle nodded to his brother's grumblings. "I know."

It was about then that Salty stepped into the room. "Excuse me sirs, but we have a situation."

"What is it now?" Whistle said, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"There are three snow treaders tailing us," Salty explained, "they are flagging us down to stop."

"Do they have a banner?" Coal asked.

Salty swallowed hard and nodded. "Golden Hoof."

The room went silent. All of them knew that if Golden Hoof had sent his minions to stop their train, that something was up.

"So what should we do?" Salty asked, breaking the silence.

It would be foolish to try Golden Hoof’s servants, if Coal didn’t stop the train then the slavers might try to siege the train and harm the passengers in the process. In the end the passenger’s lives came first. So long as they didn’t come aboard in an attempt to enslave the passengers, then hopefully everything could be resolved peacefully.

"I guess we have to stop the train."

Both White Whistle and Salty were about to leave the engine car, when Coal placed a hoof on his brother's shoulder.

"Do whatever you can to get them to leave," Coal said, "we don't have much time."

Whistle nodded and walked away.

Due to its speed and size, the train took a while to slow down, the snow treaders drawing near as the locomotive drew to a crawl.

"Alright, let's go see our unwanted guests." Salty said, walking out of the room, his shotgun at the ready.

Coal, Whistle and Salty made their way to one of the compartment cars. A couple Rail Bender members waiting for them. Pulling back the doors, one of the attendants signaled the snow treaders to approach. One of the snow treaders drew near, bearing a black banner with a golden circle in its center.

The car was filled with various boxes, holding the passenger’s luggage as well as supplies that were to be delivered to other settlements.

A small ramp emerged from the snow Treader and was placed in the entryway for its passengers to cross over.

Three ponies boarded the train. Four of them were large stallions wearing black leather armors, rifles attached to their saddles, the symbol of a golden circle on the front of their masks. The fifth was a tall and skinny unicorn stallion wearing a black cape, held in place by a golden chain. He had a sickly green coat and purple mane, his purple eyes moving around the cabin in a calculating manner.

"Hello there," the stallion spoke, "I am Grim Whip, one of Golden Hoof's lieutenants. I assure you that we are boarding this vessel on inquisitive terms."

"Inquisitive terms?" Coal asked.

"Yes," Grim replied, "it would seem that a package belonging to my master has gone missing and we have reason to believe that it might have been smuggled onto this vessel."

"By package, do you mean slaves?" Whistle asked.

Grim Whip gave a shrug. "It might have been a slave of sorts."

"Well, we don't deal in slaves." Whistle retorted.

"Oh, I know," Grim answered, "all the more reason for you to return my master's possession to him."

"I assure you we don't have it." Coal said.

Grim Whip gave a wicked grin.

"Could you please check," Grim inquired, "that would be much easier then having my crew search your train wouldn't it?"

The slaver tapped his hoof against the floor and the four guards spread out along the space.

"While you proceed with your search, I think I will become more familiar with the other passengers. Of course, if you do happen to find it, just know that Golden Hoof rewards those who serve him faithfully."

A knot grew in White Whistle's stomach. This wasn't a very good situation.

Two of the guards followed Grim Whip, while the remaining two stayed in the train car.

"I'm returning to the engine room." Coal shot his brother a death glare. "I'm trusting you to fix this."

Whistle planted a hoof in his face. Then after taking an angry breath, he turned toward the private cars.

White Whistle walked toward the slave mare's room, rebuking himself for his stupidity. He should have followed his brother's advice and thrown that slave overboard. Now there were slavers on board and the train was halted. The gauge drawing closer to zero.

As he approached the private cars, he saw Ember standing in front of the door to the room. Seeing Whistle approach in ill continence, Ember positioned herself in the aisle. It was something foreign for Whistle to see her doing this.

"Sir, are you alright?"

"I need to speak with our guest." Whistle said, still seething with self loathing.

"Sir, about the slave," Ember replied, "there is something you should know..."

Ordinary or not, her presence onboard the Sol Treader was a danger to all those riding aboard. As much as Whistle wanted to know how this slave had been smuggled aboard, it didn’t matter if the lives of the other passengers were at stake.

"Ember get out of my way!" Whistle growled.

Ember looked into Whistle's eyes, a little frustrated herself. Reluctantly, she stepped aside.

"Remember. I tried to warn you." Ember mumbled.

Whistle ignored the remark and stepped past, before opening the door.

"Alright, miss I think you have some explainin..."

In the center of the room was the slave, the cloth that had covered her gone, her chains missing save for the golden collar around her neck. Now the mare's body was exposed, and it wasn't at all what Whistle had expected. Her coat was brown with a tan mane and tail. A patch of fluffy tan fur covered her neck.

Noticing Whistle's entry, the mare turned to look at him, her large yellow eyes examining him, the two feathery antennae on her head twitching. Two large, moth-like wings rested close to her body, the fragile wings rustling nervously.

Seeing all these details, one name echoed through Whistle's mind. A name that brought with it much terror. Moth Mare.

There was a pregnant pause as Whistle and the moth mare stared at each other.

"Ummm... Excuse me, miss." Whistle said before withdrawing from the room and closing the door.

With the door shut, Whistle turned back to Ember who stood there with one eyebrow raised.

"That's a moth mare."

Ember nodded. “I know.”

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Ember frowned. "You wouldn't let me."

She had a fair point.

"Well, what do we do now?"

"It would probably be polite to talk to her," Ember answered, "we shouldn't keep our guest waiting and I think since you opened the door to speak to her, that you should be the one to do it."

Once more much to Whistle's chagrin, Ember was right. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside.

The moth mare's eyes remained focused on Whistle's movements. While the gesture reminded him of a cornered rad-rabbit, Whistle felt as if those golden eyes possessed secrets and insights he couldn't imagine.

"Uh, hello," Whistle chuckled nervously, "you merely caught me by surprise by... well..."

The moth mare nodded but continued to remain silent.

"Umm... are you able to speak?"

The moth mare's antenna twitched at the response, hanging close to her head.

"Yes," the moth mare answered meekly.

Well, that was a good place to start. Perhaps a formal introduction would help ease the mood.

"My name is White Whistle," he said, "I am the conductor of this train."

Her antennae continued to flex even as she remained silent.

"Do you have a name?" Whistle asked.

The moth mare's left antenna twitched before standing up. After a short pause, she replied. "No."

"Oh." Well, that was odd.

Both of the moth mare's antenna stretched out.

"My kind don't have names."

"You don't?"

"No," she continued, "we produce a unique... hum that we can sense when we are near one another. So, we have no need for names."

"I see."

Whistle would have found this to be interesting if it wasn't for the slavers on board. Otherwise he would probably like to inquire more.

"However, if you need to assign me a name, there were a few titles I was given during my captivity," the moth mare spoke, "I heard some ponies call me the moth mare, others monster. There was even one who appeared to be producing excess amounts of saliva, who referred to me as, mistress."

The names made Whistle wrinkled his nose, while referring to her as just the moth mare could be used for convenience, it wasn't really a fitting name. As for the other two, they weren't really something you would call your guest. Furthermore, there were other important matters to deal with and Whistle would need to break the news to her.

"Yes, it would seem that your previous captors are here."

The moth mare's antenna drooped, and she peered down at the floor. "I know, I could feel their threads."

Watching the moth mare's reaction pricked Whistle's heart strings. As tempting as it was to give her over to the slavers, his insides churned at the thought.

As he pondered the thought further, Whistle realized the potential danger of the situation. It was said in myth that moth mares possessed prophetic abilities, warning of impending tragedy. If Golden Hoof had one at his disposal, she wouldn’t just be another concubine in his harem. He would use her to extend his influence over all of the Crystal Wastes and perhaps even further south into the Equestrian Wasteland. For every assault against his monopoly, Golden Hoof would have a countermeasure and nopony would be able to stop him.

“Excuse me again, miss.” Whistle said as he left the room.

As he closed the door, Whistle saw two ponies approach, his brother and Salty.

“So, what are we going to do?” Salty asked.

“Well, whatever we do we need to do it fast.” Cold Coal said, panic in his voice. “The gauge is almost critical. We need to get this train moving, now! Otherwise we could have another Tattledale incident on our hooves.”

“We can’t have that.” Salty said.

“No, we can’t.” Whistle moaned.

Whistle took a deep breath, measuring the tables in his mind. If the moth mare was given to the slavers, lives would be saved, for now. If they refused, the slavers might focus their anger on the crew and potentially the passengers. If the engine’s gauge dropped to zero…

He had been young when the Tattledale incident had occurred, however White Whistle could still remember the gritty feeling of ash as it matted his coat as half a settlement came to a horrific end.

“Then what shall we do?” Salty asked.

As he considered their options, a thought occurred to Whistle. Another memory from his past appeared before his mind, of a time very similar to this one.

“Salty, do you remember what happened back during our ride between Gemcrypt and Ametport?”

“Do I ever.” Salty chuckled. “I still have a scar from the raider that sliced along my back.”

“How do you feel about recreating that encounter.”

The endeavor had involved a gang of bandits that had boarded the Sol Treader using ropes and hooks. It was a gnarly situation with the train’s crew and the passengers fighting for their lives against a small party or murder happy maniacs. Not only that but the raiders had managed to create some sort of vehicle that allowed them to keep up with the train, creating combat both inside and outside of the Sol Treader’s walls.

A broad, crooked grin stretched across Salty’s lips. “That sounds like it could be a lot of fun.”

“So, we’re going to fight?” Coal asked.

“Sure, sounds like it.” Salty said, gleefully, “I’ll go tell the boys the plan. Dynamo’s going to be thrilled!”

As Salty hobbled away, Cold Coal gave White Whistle a concerned look. “Are you sure she is worth it?”

Whistle considered the inquiry, the image of the moth mare’s yellow eyes looking back at him sank into his soul. Could he so easily give her over, after she looked at him like that? Could he give that innocent looking creature over to Golden Hoof just so he could defile her?

No.

White Whistle nodded. “Yes, I believe so.”

Coal let out a deep sigh. “I hope you’re right.”

As Coal headed back to the engine car, Whistle walked back to his quarters for possibly the last time. Once inside, he walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled forth a wooden box. Opening the box, Whistle revealed a revolver with an ivory handle, with the symbol of an hourglass engraved inside. It was another parting gift, this time from his mother, the exact same weapon she had used to defend herself when she roamed the radioactive wasteland to the south.

The Time Turner.

There was also a small box of ammunition inside, with twenty bullets.

Clicking open the barrel, Whistle loaded all six of the pistol’s chambers, spun the cylinder and swung it back into place.

When his father was still alive, he made sure that both Coal and Whistle could use and maintain a gun. As much as he hated taking a life, Whistle had learned at a young age that the best way to stop a rape happy raider was with a firearm. Preferably with a single bullet to the skull.

Whistle placed the box of ammo and the Time Turner in his coat in order to conceal them, before stepping back out into the hallway.

Stepping into the passenger car, Whistle saw Grim Whip and his two guards standing around, looking the guests over. The slaver standing in the setting area next to Miss Silvermane. With a quick glance, Whistle saw a few of the Rail Benders among the passengers, preparing for anything.

Grim Whip’s expression was that of annoyance. At least until he saw Whistle approach, then an overly sweet smile stretched across the slaver’s face.

“Hello again, mister conductor,” Grim Whip greeted, “I hope you bear good news.”

Sadly, Whistle knew that he was going to be very disappointed.

"I'm sorry mister Whip, but we weren't able to find the package you were speaking of," Whistle said, "I would suggest looking elsewhere."

Grim Whip's expression soured.

"Don't consider me a fool, colt!" Grim barked, "I know when I am being lied to. Now we can do this either the easy way or the hard way. The easy way, you turn over the slave and my master gives you a generous amount of bits for your loyalty. The hard way, you don't give her over and we take her by force! Now which is it going to be?"

Sadly, despite Grim Whip’s statements there was no easy way out.

Whistle let out a deep sigh. "Fine, you win, we discovered the slave not too long ago."

"See that wasn't so hard." Grim smiled. "Now just fork her over and I will return her to my master."

Nervously Whistle walked over to the intercom. Taking a deep breath, he spoke into the speaker, "Dear passengers... prepare for a bumpy ride."

Suddenly the train lurched as the engine came to life.

Grim Whip looked around, shocked by what had just happened, before turning to glare at Whistle. "What did you do?"

Gradually the train began to pick up speed as it began to move down the track.

"Stop him!" Grim barked.

One of the slavers raised his rifle toward Whistle, however by then he had already drawn his revolver. A spray of blood erupted from the slaver's neck as the Time Turner's hammer came down and the pistol fired.

The slaver gurgled his last breath as he toppled to the floor.

As his comrade fell to the floor one of the other slaver guards fired off three shots, all of which flew past White Whistle down the aisle. Adrenaline pumped through Whistle's veins, the world seeming to slow around him. Squeezing the trigger, Whistle fired off two more shots.

One bullet pierced the slaver's left knee, causing him to collapse and misfire into the floor. The second bullet cut through the slaver's mask and pierced his skull right below his left eye.

Out of the corner of his eye, Whistle could see a Snow Treader moving alongside the rushing train only for the front of the vehicle to burst into flame before crashing into a snowbank. It would seem Dynamo was having a good time.

When the slaver fell, Whistle heard a cry to his left. Turning he saw Miss Silvermane, the barrel of a gun being held to her head by a sickly green aura, Grim Whip standing behind her.

"Put down the gun, conductor," Grim said, "or this old mare gets it."

Despite her silence, Whistle could tell by Silvermane's grimace that she was quite offended by the statement.

Whistle shook his head. "I can't do that."

Grim Whip growled, before he started dragging his hostage toward the hallway.

"I'm getting off this train and you're not going to hear the last of this!"

White Whistle watched as Grim went through the doorway, disappearing into the next car.

"Mistress!" Lily called out.

Watching the scene unfold, Whistle knew she had to save Miss Silvermane. They prided themselves on having the fastest and safest train in the Crystal Wastes. If Grim succeeded in kidnapping her, they could no longer uphold that claim.

With the Time Turner at the ready, White Whistle proceeded to follow the slaver.

Following Grim Whip and his captive into the next train car, Whistle saw the other two slaver guards. One raised his rifle as Whistle shot off a bullet into the slaver's body.

The second slaver was much bigger carrying a large, metal hammer in his jaws. With a roar, the slaver charged toward White Whistle. Whistle fired off two shots at the assailant. While momentarily stunned by the bullets, the slaver's rage continued, his weapon held high.

Whistle felt himself being pushed from behind as something large and metallic appeared out of the corner of his eye.

Bang!

Whistle's ears rang as the shotgun next to his head fired, the slaver's face eviscerated by the blast. Dead, the slaver crumpled to the floor.

Frantic, White Whistle glanced around, his ears still ringing from the gun that had fired off at ear level. Salty came into view, trying to ask him something. Eventually his hearing recovered enough that Whistle could understand what he was saying.

"Hey, are you okay, lad?" Salty asked, visibly concerned.

Whistle nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Having recovered from the conflict, Whistle and Salty continued to chase after Grim Whip. Following the slaver, Whistle thought he heard somepony running on the top of the train.

Whistle was about to reload his revolver when suddenly a strange sensation went over his mind. It was as if a wave of water had rushed through him and suddenly he found himself in a storage car, Miss Silvermane being held hostage by Grim Whip. Aiming at the slaver’s head, Whistle fired… and missed.

Silvermane’s head erupted in gore as the Timer Turner’s bullet impacted. Whistle could hear somepony yelling off to his right, but the guilt of killing his passenger brought the world to a halt.

‘No.’ The mother mare’s voice echoed through Whistle’s mind. ‘There is another thread that you can take. You don’t need to reload yet.’

Whistle gasped, finding himself back in the train car.

“Wait, what?”

What had just happened? Had the moth mare somehow shown him the future? Remembering the small glimpse he had seen, Whistle decided to take her advice and leave the chamber empty for now, pushing the cylinder back into place.

Opening the door to the next car, Whistle ducked as a bullet hit the door frame.

"It doesn't have to be like this conductor," Grim called out, "just give me the slave and all will be forgiven. Nopony has to die!"

White Whistle wasn't too sure that was true. Literally all four of Grim Whip's guards and one of his snow treaders had been destroyed. After hearing another explosion, Whistle guessed that the second treader had been destroyed as well. Still was the moth mare so valuable, that the slaver would gladly throw all of that away, in exchange for her? Such an idea was unsettling.

"I can't do that!" Whistle called out from behind the door.

The small glass window on the door shattered as another gunshot went off. Peeking around the door, White Whistle watched Grim drag Miss Silvermane into the next car.

Entering the train car, White Whistle found himself back in the car that had been used for the slavers' entry. The door to the car still wide open, the harsh cold wind blowing through the opening.

Grim Whip stood in front of the doorway, his pistol aimed toward his hostage. Even as Whistle examined the situation, he noticed a shade hiding in the shadows of the room.

"Put down the gun conductor," Grim hissed, "or this passenger will pay for your incompetence!"

Miss Silvermane whimpered in Grim Whip's grasp, as the barrel of his gun hung close to her head. Despite Whip's threat, Whistle raised his gun toward the slaver's brow, watching his eyes as sweat began to drop down Grim Whip's face.

‘Well, I hope this works.’

Brandishing a smile, Whistle pointed his gun at the slaver and magically pulled the trigger.

Click!

There was no gunshot, just the click of the hammer slamming into a spent shell.

Grim Whip blinked, surprised for a moment before letting out a cruel chuckle. "Well, it would seem that the conductor is all bark and no bite!"

Throwing his hostage aside, Whip aimed the pistol at White Whistle.

"Do you have any last words!" The slaver asked.

"Yeah… Bang!"

In a flash, a mallet came from the shadows, hitting the gun, knocking it out of Whip's magical grasp onto the ground, the weapon’s frame damaged by the mallet’s impact. As the slaver let out a shocked gasp, Whistle motioned with his revolver for Miss Silvermane to vacate the room. With fear on her face, the elderly mare didn't hesitate to obey, fleeing as quickly as possible.

Now the tables had turned, with Whistle and Coal facing the last slaver.

"How dare you!" Grim Whip barked, "All you had to do was return Golden Hoof's prize and you could have received a great reward, but instead you had to make things difficult!"

Whistle used the quick eject, causing all of Time Turner’s spent shell casings to tumble to the floor, before he proceeded to load in six bullets.

"As I already told you," Whistle answered, "We don't deal in slaves."

A frightened expression crossed Whip's face as he watched Whistle reload.

"You're not going to kill me are you?"

"Probably." Coal answered, matter-of-factly.

The cylinder clicked back into place.

"You're mad!" Whip growled, "I'm one of Golden Hoof's most esteemed lieutenants. If you kill me it won't just be the slave, he'll be coming for. He'll have your heads!"

"In that case he better get in line." Whistle said as he raised his firearm back to the slaver. "And buy a bucking ticket."

Bang!

The Time Turner went off, the bullet burst forth from the barrel into Grim Whip's skull, propelling him out of the storage car into the snowy wasteland.

"Alright, it should be alright, for now." Whistle said.

With the slavers no longer a threat, the Railbenders proceeded to deal with the bodies, covering them with blankets before pulling them away.

As White Whistle observed, he felt something tug on his uniform. Looking down, he noticed that it was Spiked Gum.

"I'm sorry," Whistle apologized, "I wish I could have made your ride with us a little safer."

The colt nodded. "It's okay, mister."

"We should be drawing closer to Cryptmane, so you should probably return to your seat."

"Mister?" Gun inquired, "what's going to happen to the bodies?"

White Whistle put on his best smile. "We're just going to throw them out into the snow."

That was a lie.

The rest of the trip to Cryptmane was uneventful. It had been three days since Golden Hoof's slavers had boarded the train and not a single Snow Treader had been spotted since. White Whistle wasn't sure if he wanted to consider this a sign of good fortune or merely a calm before the storm.

As the train came to a stop, the doors opened and the passengers gradually proceeded to leave.

"Thank you all for your patronage," Whistle called out, "please consider riding the Sol Treader again."

As the other ponies began to step off the train, Miss Silvermane approached the brothers, her expression sour. Silvermane's maid followed at a distance.

"Hello Miss." Coal said.

"Gentlecolts, let me just say that wasn't a pleasant ride," Silvermane spoke, "in addition to being taken hostage, both of you showed yourselves to be reckless. I could have been killed!"

White Whistle kept silent, as much as he wanted to argue with her, Miss Silvermane was right. Not only had they made themselves enemies of Golden Hoof but Silvermane could have lost her life.

Whistle bowed his head. "Sorry."

As soon as Whistle's apology left his lips, Miss Silvermane's mood became calm and calculating.

"In spite of all of that, both you also proved yourselves to be cunning, resourceful and driven. The very elements I was looking for when I bought the ticket for this trip."

"What?"

Both of the brothers gave Silvermane a confused look.

"There is a monopoly here in the Crystal Wastes that my company and I wish to topple. A monopoly owned by somepony you've just become enemies with," Silvermane explained, "While I possess the caps, I like the resources to accomplish such a feat. If I had a safe way to transport research teams to the locations where they could uncover useful pre-war technology, that would be a great investment."

"Are you saying you want to commission us?" Coal inquired.

"I am simply wanting you to aid my research teams by ensuring them safe passage," Silvermane continued, "should both of you agree to this, I am willing to ensure that you both receive a hefty amount of caps for your troubles."

The two brothers glanced at each other, considering the opportunity they had been given. Coal gave a nod in agreement, before heading back to the engine car.

"It would seem that this could be a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"Excellent," Silvermane said, "perhaps sometime in the future we can share a bottle of wine, celebrating this union."

"Maybe so."

"Lily, give him the token." Silvermane instructed.

The maid pulled forth a box and presented it to White Whistle. Opening it, Whistle saw a golden coin with the symbol of a sun with four rays shooting off toward the right, engraved on its surface.

Whistle closed the box. "Thank you."

Miss Silvermane turned to Lily, "Well, come on dear. We have business to take care of."

As the two mares began to depart, there was one more question that hadn't been answered. How had the crate holding that moth mare come on board the Sol Treader.

"One more thing miss!" Whistle said.

Miss Silvermane turned to him giving an inquisitive look.

"It would seem that somepony had smuggled a crate aboard, you wouldn't happen to know who was responsible?"

"No." Silvermane answered, however as she turned to walk away, Whistle thought he spotted a sly grin on her face.

While Whistle didn't like being manipulated, it would be foolish to pass down this opportunity. Now that Silvermane was gone, there was only one more guest to attend to.

White Whistle walked down the aisle to the private cars before stopping in front of the room that the moth mare occupied. Passing by one of the rooms, Whistle saw Salty tending to his brother Dynamo, another eldarly stallion with his mane permanently pushed back as if he has been caught in an explosion. His eyes moving along in a googly manner and a bronze horn hanging from his right ear.

“Hold still.” Salty groaned.

“What?” Dynamo asked excitedly, “there are enemies on the hill?”

“No, no, no!” Salty grumbled.

The way the brother’s interacted and worked off of each other made Whistle smile. Both of them had their quirks and despite that they worked together very well.

It didn’t take long for Whistle to reach the moth mare’s room. After taking a deep breath, Whistle knocked on the door.

"Hello, this is the conductor," Whistle said, "may I come in?"

"White Whistle, is it? Please do come in." A feminine voice came from behind the door.

Stepping inside, Whistle closed the door behind him. On the seat sat the moth mare, her eyes focused on him.

"Hello, how are you doing?" Whistle asked.

"I am feeling much better," the moth mare replied, "thank you, mister White Whistle."

"Whistle will be fine. Actually I should be thanking you."

The moth mare cocked her head to the side.

“You gave me that vision,” Whistle explained, “didn’t you?”

“It was the thread you were going down. I merely decided to present you with another.”

“Why?”

Her antenna twitched, yet the moth mare didn’t otherwise answer.

The two of them looked at each other in silence, Whistle not sure what to say or if he should broach the topic of her leaving.

"Fog Lantern." The moth mare said.

"What?"

"Fog Lantern," she repeated, "that's the name Ember gave me. She said my eyes looked like fog lanterns and since I felt it was very fitting, I decided to make it my name."

"That's nice… I was just wondering how long you were planning to stay with us?"

The moth mare looked out the window.

"I will be staying here a little while longer," Fog answered, "I can feel the threads pulling me along this path, so I will stay until it is time to diverge."

"I am sure I can find a way to accommodate that."

Suddenly the room grew very dim as Fog's yellow eyes shifted to a bright violet. Her eyes now purely focused on Whistle.

"Be wary little unicorn," Fog spoke in a nearly alien tone, "there is a shadow looming with this vessel. A darkness that rivals that within Golden Hoof's heart."

Then just as soon as she had finished uttering those ominous words, Fog Lantern's eyes became yellow once more and the rooms lighting returned to normal.

"I feel very tired," Fog said, "I wish to sleep for a little while."

"Uh… O-of course." Whistle stuttered, feeling uneasy with Fog's words.

Following the moth mare's wishes, Whistle left the room and made his way back to the train engine, Fog Lantern's words haunting him.

‘How did she know?’ He thought.

With heavy hooves, White Whistle made his way to the train engine. His face maintained a stern expression to cover up his unease.

As Whistle stepped into the engine car, the scent of burnt hair and flesh filled his nostrils. Coal sat next to the machine, a green flame roaring behind the metal door to the furnace. The gauge was at sixty percent.

"How is everything looking?" Whistle asked.

"It was a close one," Coal replied, "if we hadn't picked up speed like we had the engine would have gone into a frenzy."

"And our uninvited quests?"

The green flames swirled behind the ashen glass.

"Fortunately their bodies were able to calm down the engine's anger. It’s satisfied for now, however I don't ever want the gauge to go down that low. Next time we might not have enough corpses to feed to the fire."

The great machine was made of sharp, black metal with gears like razor sharp teeth and tubing like tendrils of a mutated squid. As Whistle peered through the window, at times he could have sworn he saw a shadowy figure in there, its eyes looking back at him. No, back into him.

That was the thing that the gauge governed over. As long as the train continued to move, the gauge would remain above zero and so long as it remained above zero, the entity would be contained. Otherwise...

"How is the stowaway doing?" Coal asked.

"She says she will be staying with us a little while longer." Whistle answered.

White Whistle wasn't sure if he should tell his brother what Fog Lantern had said. Not everypony was thrilled with the family's secret and undoubtedly Coal wouldn't be happy with an outsider knowing about it.

Coal gave a nod, "As much trouble as her presence has caused, I have the feeling she might bring us some good fortune."

"We can use all we can get."

Coal looked at the engine's furnace with weary eyes. The bones within the machine, smoldering in that unholy flame. The charred remains to sate the beast’s hunger and keep it contained... for now.

"We just need to not drop to zero. Not again."

Whistle rested a hoof on his brother's shoulder. "Never again."

Author's Note

By Robipony

V is for Venom, the most painful of weapons

The clanging of pots and pans, the pinging of glass bottles, and the stomping of hooves was a constant within the caravan of five merchant ponies hauling heavily packed and oversized saddlebags. My employer, Moody Peddler, and I were at the back of the caravan, being late additions of the group it was left to us to keep an eye on the flank. Moody hadn’t wanted to spend the caps for a second mercenary, so he had opped in to joining this group through the mountains. It was going to be a longer route, but the raiders were not known for camping up there.

"Hay Keep, something feels off with my saddle bag, can you go and check it?" Moody asked me, and I rolled my eyes and checked.

Checking the large saddlebag that covered his side back, and flank, I found that the stitching in the back was coming loose, with a few gun barrels sticking through. "I fucking told you that you should have payed the extra caps for a better bag, the stiching is alredy falling appart back here."

"Well can you fix it?" He huffed.

"My job is to shoot or hit things, not fix your shit!" I snapped at him.

A long sigh came from Moody, “I know, I know, but can you at least do something that will keep the bag together until we get to town.?"

I scratched my chin for a moment, and then smirked. "Fine, but your going to pay me extra for this."

Moody groaned. "Fine, just don't let the bag tear open on me, that’s also your pay in there."

Grabbing a rope that hung on the side of his bag, I then tightly wrapped it around the bag, and over where the tear was forming, finishing it up with a sturdy knot. "That should hold it together."

"Thanks, now lets catch up to the others." Moody got back to totting, and we picking up the pace a little. Through the cloudy sky the sun was growing lower as we moved through a mountain canon, it slowly dipping out of view. My eyes catching a glimpse of movement above, it too far away to make out. "What is it Keep?" Moody asked, seeing me scan the cliffside intensely.

"Shh!" I breathed, and he stopped, along with his baggs clanking, making things more silent. After a moment, I heard some jipping, and sighed. "Just coyotes."

Moody sighed as well. "I hate those mangy mutts, but they don't normally attack full grown ponies."

After some more brisk trotting, we caught up with the caravan, one of their guards giving me the stink eye. Bitch was probably jealous of my gear, it all was custom made by the Gun Runner’s Fillydelphia. My clan were hired by Red Eye to guard the walls, so we had access to the good stuff in terms of armor and guns. I had black matted combat armor, marked with my clan's emblem, a white scorpion, and connected to an old sturdy battle saddle were two 10mm SMGs, both had extended magazines. Overall, I was far more professional looking then the six other guards in the caravan, whom were not much more than a poorly disiplin militia. They had worn out looking leather armor over farmer rags, and their hunting rifles were corded with rust.

The four other merchants were not much better off looking, unlike Moody, it looked like they just read a bunch of potato sacks together, and called them saddlebags. Though, unlike moody, their bags weren't ready to rip open, so they at least seemed to know what they were doing.

The sun had finally dipped behind the mountain, and it was quickly becoming dark. Each of the merchants turned on a lantern, and continued our journey. We were not going to stop for the night, as to make up for the lost time of taking this long route. It was dangerous to travel through a mountain at night, but the caravans leader insured us that the path was mostly safe and as long as we kept to the path. At Least we were in the back, so the risk of falling off a cliff was low for us.

I did my best to keep an ear out, every now and then I could hear another coyote yip through all the clanking of the merchants. The canines were following us out of curiosity, it was nothing out of the normal, and like Moody has said, not a huge threat to us. But still, I was getting me a bad feeling.

"FUCK!" A guard cried out.

*Blam*

"A fucking rattle snake bit me!" The same caravan guards yelled.

Another guard ran over to the injured guard and asked. "Did you hit it?"

"Don't think so, I didn't even get a good look at it before it jumped away." The guard then stumbled. "Wait, snakes can snakes jump… or yip?"

A third guard ran over to them with a kit. "I got some anti venom, just stay still."

Something seemed off, my tongue on my bits trigger, the bad feeling only getting worse, and familiar. "Moody, I don't think we got coyotes following us, so get close to me."

He did just that. "If it's not coyotes, then what is it."

"Shoot your flare gun into the air, and we'll see if my hunch is right." I told him.

"Alright, but the flairs coming out of your pa…" Another guard screamed, followed by them firing off their rifle. What was attacking did not want to be seen, meaning it can’t have been a rattlesnake. "Firing a flare!" Moody yelled, and with a foosh, a bright red light launched itself into the air.

The area was illuminated in a red glow, reveling that we were surrounded by a large pack of coyote rattlesnake hybrids, I could see at least twenty of them. "Yep, night stalkers." Was all I said before all tartarus broke loose.

The caravan guards fired off their rifles wildly, managing to kill two of the night stalkers before the monsters scattered and attacked. Hissing and rattling their tails before leaping into a bight, the guards hunting rifles fired too slowly to keep up with them. The Night Stalkers quickly learned the pattern, and after a guared would shoot, the monster would attack. One by one, the night stalkers would bite into the guards and merchants before running off.

A few came for Moody and I, but he was fine as all he needed to do was retreat into his tortus like shell of a saddlebag, protecting all but his face from the night stalkers, of which he then covered his face with a pan. I on the other hoof was mostly in the open, using Moody to have my back, but unlike the other guards, my SMGs were more than enough to take them out, and my reflexes were quick enough not to get caught off guard. After the first few minutes of the attack I had three dead night stalkers around me to provide as a warning to the monsters.

Barking at me, the night stalkers would begin the circle around, watching me. The two of us were the only ones not bit, making us dangerous to them, unlike the rest of the caravan. I watched as the rest of the caravan would vomit and fall over, succumbing to the night stalker venom. Soon after, the night stalkers would drag the unfortunate ponies away, they whimpering for somepony to save them, all before being drowned out by the sound of cheerful yips, barks, and howls.

"Arnt you going to help them?" Moody asked, still keeping a low profile under his baggs.

I shook my head. "Not the best idea, there’s too many of them, and if I leave, they will come for you. Also, I doubt there's enough antivenom for all of them."

He grumbled, "Then what, we can't just wait here all night!"

Seeing me distracted, another night stalker charged, and I pulled the trigger on my bit, and sending a burst of led into the monster, killing it. "Were going to have to, running now will only trigger their case instinct. By standing our ground, and not making sudden motions, they will be more wherey of us."

"Keep, I think one just jumped onto my saddlebag!" He shouted.

I turned in time to see a hissing night stalker jump down at me from the large saddle bag. I managed to block it with my leg, the monster biting into my armored fenlock, and braking its fangs. With a swift slam of my other hoof, I felt its skull crack before it lifelessly tumbled away. The sounds of paws hitting the ground hard caught my attention, and turned to glare at the next night stalker, whom stopped in its tracks. Growling at it, the monster tucked its rattlesnake tale under its legs, and backing away slowly.

"That's right, know your place bitch!" I shouted right before feeling a sharp pain back leg, a pain that turned to a strong burning sensation. Looking back, I saw a small night stalker biting into the back of my leg, its fangs having gone passed where my armor was. Swiftly kicking the runt with a hefty buck, it flew off and hit a large rock, and fell to the ground dead. I got back into my defensive position, knowing I was in for a bad time.

"Shit, are you alright Keep?" Moody now sounded very worried.

I was now feeling a bit light headed, and my mouth was salivating. "If their venom is anything similar to that of a rad-scorpions, then maybe."

He retreated deeper under his saddlebag. "Are we, going to die."

My vision blurred a little, and my body felt week, forcing me to struggle to just hold my body up. All the while, the night stalkers gathered around me, none getting close, the six I killed was enough of a warning for them to not try and attack again. Well, not attack while I'm standing, if I would collapse, they would be all over me before I could get back up. "Yrust me…" I slurred, my throat was sore, and my voice was weak. "Trust me, my clans known for surviving worst venom than this."

"You say that, but you sound like you're about to die!" Moody stated.

"Not as bad as you were after our second date." I said, feeling like death. "Maybe after this we can have a celebrity romp, and see how well you come out this time?"

He groaned in frustration. "How can you talk about sex at a time like this? Also fuck that, I don't need to be bed ridden over your flank."

I laughed, and it hurt.

The night went on, and the night stalkers and I continued our standoff. Every now and then, one would take a step forward, and I would fire a shot at them, re-establishing myself as a threat. One of the bastards began dragging parts of a merchant over, chewing on his flesh and bone as it stared me down. It was a game of who would give up first, and I was not keen on losing, not to some mutant coyotes.

….

….

….

With heavy eyes, and wobbly legs, I still stood as it finally it came, light glowed through the clouds, and slowly illuminating the canyon. The sun had returned, and with it, the night stalkers finally began to retreated. A few at first, but soon they all wandered off back to wherever their den was, leaving us with what was left of the mangled corpses of the caravan, and their dead.

I stood there for ten more minutes, if a bit longer before letting my legs collapsed under me. "Keep!" Moody cried, popping out from under his saddle bag, holding his fryingpan up, ready to fight. "You better not die on me… wait, their gone!"

I took a deep breath. "I'm going to be fine, the venoms already passing I just need to rest."

Moody detached himself from his oversized saddle bag. "You White Scorpions are something crazy, taking venom like that when everypony else dropped like flies. But still, let me scavang something to help you out."

"If they had booze, get me that too!" I shouted with a pained voice.

He glared back at me. "The fuck you will be drinking, not when your pregnent."

I shrugged while on the ground. "Oh getting venomized is fine, but no booze! Your sounding like my grandmother."

Moody trotted back with a healing potion, and some bandages. "She sounds like a smart mare, and I'd like to meet her some day, now let me patch you up." He treated my leg, which was only a little swollen, and gave me the healing potion. "Alright, you take a break while I fix my saddlebag."

The venom had run its course through my body, and I was only dealing with some of its after effects, the healing potion did help to make me feel better. Looking around, I spotted a night stalker far above us, looking back down, our eyes meeting for a brief moment before it darted off. I made a mental note to one day come back here with a hunting party, night stalkers make great guard dogs for places you want no pony to go, meaning their worth a lot of caps of a pony could get their hooves on the.

But right now I need to take a nap, then get us the fuck out of here.

Author's Note

By Dice Warwick

Y...

“You’ve gotta have more than this, friendo,” Pustule said, jabbing the barrel of a rusting pistol against the ghoul’s head. “This ain’t all you got!” It wasn’t his real name, but the disfiguring case of Hide Rot he’d contracted had chosen it for him. For a time he was a joke amongst his little raiding party, until he had chosen to embrace it. Pustule was so disfigured by the rot that he was often mistaken for a ghoul. Which might be why he hated them so much. Rough, pock-marked skin and a buboe the size of a pre-war bit pulsed on his cheek, leaking a clear fluid that matted his coat and caused his rusting armor to stick to him.

“P-please… I haven’t got anything…” the ghoul rasped, lowering her head and raising her hooves in a futile attempt to curl into herself and hide. Pustule sneered at her, trying to figure out how this… THING could’ve once been a mare. Leathery skin that was withered and rotted peeked through the remnants of a pale blue coat and thin wisps of golden mane still stubbornly clung to her remaining scalp and draped around her horn.

He clicked his tongue and the ghoul whimpered louder, her eyes shut tight. He liked that. He liked how powerful it made him feel. “Check again, boys! This bitch has gotta have somethin’ worthwhile!” Three other raiders rifled through the packs the ghoul’s brahmin had been carrying, before they’d put a bullet in each of its heads and dropped it to the dirt. Moldy clothes, various bits of junk, and at most, fifty caps. This had been a total bust. “I thought Sniveler said there was gonna be a shipment of goods leavin’ Three Peaks today!” he growled.

“He did! Lying sack of shit! I say we take our missin’ pay outta his hide!” one of his partners grunted as he tossed over a trunk, and rifled the contents a second time. Once again they came up with nothing, trotting up to Pustule with angry looks leveled at the ghoul.

“This ain’t your lucky day, rotter,” Pustule hissed and began to pull the trigger. The hammer raised, clicking audibly with the slow mechanical movement.

“No! No! Wait! I know… I know of a treasure! PLEASE! I KNOW OF A TREASURE!” she screamed.

That got their attention, the pistol removed itself from her head and Pustule stepped around in front of her. “Talk. Quick like,” he urged.

“There’s… there’s a cave not far from here… used to be a mine before the war,” she said, looking up slowly.

“We ain’t from these parts, rotter! Gonna hafta be more ‘sific,” Pustule said, pressing the pistol between her eyes.

“I-I… I can show you! I used to work there before the Last Day. It's not… not far,” she said, slowly getting to her hooves. She walked without urging, scrambling up the sloped hill next to the road and stopping when she worried she might leave her captors behind. She stepped around withered trees coated in putrid slime molds and thick, brain-like fungus. She stopped at an old wooden post, brushing her hoof through the carpet of muck until she found the rusted remnants of a sign. “C-c’mon. This way.” As they walked, a dirt road rose out of the detritus, leading in a winding path further up the hill. They followed it in silence, the ghoul occasionally promising that it was just ahead. When Pustule was just about ready to put far more bullets than was necessary into her ass and call it a day, she came to a stop. “Th-there it is! Just as I promised.”

Pustule stepped up beside her and looked incredulously at the cave. His gaze darted between it and the ghoul before he growled and drew his pistol again. “What sorta idiots hide a treasure in a cave!” he barked.

“The Ministry of Awesome!” she shouted, dropping to the dirt and shielding herself from the bullet that didn’t immediately rip through her face. “When she found herself still among the living she quickly follow-up. “It was a gold mine. Gold dried up quickly, so it was converted to a MoA storage depot!

“It does sound like somethin’ Dash woulda done from what I heard, boss,” one of his raiders muttered. The other two nodded so hard it seemed as though their heads might bobble off their bodies. With a resigned sigh, Pustule peered into the cave. It was nearly pitch black and a faint dripping noise echoed from deeper within.

“Scutt, you stick with the rotter. Fart, Belch, you’re with me,” Pustule ordered as he trotted into the cave, the glow from his horn casting a pal green light across the uneven stone walls as they disappeared into the earth. The minutes passed by in relative silence before the ghoul looked over at Scutt who stared absent-mindedly into the cave.

“So… Scutt?” she muttered. “You boys aren’t from around here?”

The raider, Scutt, looked about as smart as something you might step in. The mare had seen more teeth in Nightmare Night Jack-o-lanterns. More brains now that she thought of it, if the raider’s vacant stare and slight drooling was any indicator. After a long moment to process he shook his head. “Nah uh, we’re from da south.”

She nodded slowly. “I see,” she said. She waited a beat and then glanced over at him. “Ya ever hear of a Yao Guai?” she asked.

His vacant expression never changed. He shook his head. “Nah, wuzzat?” he asked, finally turning to face her. She smiled, and as if a gift from above a panicked scream echoed from the cave followed by a terrible roar. “Fart? Belch? Puss! I’m comin’ boss!” Scutt, to his credit, immediately charged in, heedless to the danger. A minuted passed, followed by more screams and the weak ‘pop pop’ of that rusty old pistol. She shrugged and her horn sparked into life and a translucent blue glow formed over the entrance. She waited, patiently, and before too long Pustule staggered back into view. His leather armor was rent, a trio of long deep fissures ran up his chest and face. She had to admit, the grievous wound had done wonders for his complexion, the buboe reduced to little more than a popped zit. Though at that size it more resembled a popped tire. He caught sight of the ghoul and quickened his pace, smashing face first into the magical barrier, leaving a smear of blood across it.

“Wush…” he slurred through a partial shredded face.

“Poor little raider,” the mare cooed. “Welcome to Three Peaks. I’m Cassidy. Its my job to make sure stupid raiders like yourselves don’t bother the townfolk.” His eyes widened and he reared back, beating his hooves against the magic. “Sniveler and I have a sweet little gig. We lure stupid raiders out here to their death. Collect a healthy bounty from the local sheriff, and keep the Yao Guai happy and away from town. The raider paused and looked over his shoulder, and then resumed beating on the magic with renewed vigor. He was shouting, but the magic field reduced it to a mild, unintelligible hum. “Say hi to fuzzy for me. Tell him I’ll be back soon with more treats,” she said, raising her hoof to wave. Pustule screamed against the magic as a massive shadow fell over him. He turned slowly, looking up into the radiation scarred hide of a true monster. With a bellowing growl, the Yao Guai descended upon him, taking him in its jaws and retreating back into its cave. Cassidy smiled and turned trotting back down the worn path as she began to sing. “If you go out in the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise. If you go out in the woods today, you'd better go in disguise. For every bear that ever there was, will gather there for certain, because today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic.”

Y is for Yao Gaui, better be careful in the woods, guy!

Author's Note

Made by WeaponPrime

Z for Zebras

Hi there, my name is Blitz. I'm not your average wastelander. Mainly because I'm a hippogriff, something you don't often see in the Equestrian wasteland. The reason for that is that our home, Mount Eris, is out in the middle of the ocean, untouched by balefire bombs. While we had supported Equestria during the war by using our special magic to create talismans and other magical weapon components the zebras had decided we were not a big enough threat to merit an attack.

So why was I here in this hellscape and not home on our nice isolated island? Long story short, my sister Ashaa and I were part of a merchant family, sailing from island to island trading goods. We used to stay fairly close to the hippogriff isles, but a while back there had been rumours of an economic boom in a zebra coastal city and father decided to try his luck.

Unfortunately, our ship sunk and I woke up to find myself in the irradiated swampland that is the city of Neigh Orleans. So I did what anyone would have done in my situation. I found my sister, Met some new friends, And went on a crusade to rid this city of its foul inhabitants and make this place safe for all civilized creatures!

Still working on the crusade bit...

Today had been strangely boring. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad the various monsters and villains of Neigh Orleans had taken a day off, but by noon I was crawling up the walls of our house on Marbon Street that my friends and I shared. I walked out of my room and into the living room. Shadow, our resident Dark and moody sharpshooter, was in the sitting on the couch with his wide brim hat and duster, as well as his bright red aviators. He was polishing his massive handgun and talking to Thunderheart, our steel ranger, as he tweaked his power armour. Ashaa somehow looked even more bored than me as she waxed the bowstring of her giant black recurve bow.

At the sound of me walking in Ashaa's head shot up. "Hey! Blitz! Please tell me you found something for us to do? I am so bored. I will do Anything to get away from these two, they just want to sit around and be as boring as the walls!" I chuckled, shaking my head.

"Hey now young lady, Shadow and I are talking about firearms, which would be very interesting to you if you didn’t insist on only using that silly bow of yours" Thunderheart reprimanded.

"Well exCUSE me if I think a bow is more civilized than your loud guns," Ashaa said playfully, turning back towards me. "So did you find something for us to do?"

I shook my head as Ashaa slumped down in her seat "Darn it. So now I have to sit here and be bored until something Blows up or another bad guy comes around to destroy Neigh Orleans."

"Or we could just go for a walk." I proposed. Ashaa looked at the front door, then back at Shadow and Thunderheart. She nodded fervently. "Yes let's do that."

For a few hours, we trudged around familiar neighbourhoods, places we'd been. Then we veered off towards the outskirts of the city. Since arriving here I'd only left Neigh Orleans a few times on short trips out by the old radio tower and the cybernetics plant out west. as we walked through desiccated streets and alleys Ashaa and I talked. If only to relieve the ominous and unusual silence. There were always the sounds of gunshots in the distance, the screams of monsters, The chatter and static of broken radios...

"Blitz, do... Do you think we’ll see our home again? Mother and Father? I don’t want to die here, alone..." Ashaa stared blankly at the ground, trembling slightly as she walked. " I want to see the royal gardens again, go to a Flying Feathers concert, listen to one of Mother's stories... Oh, Mother! She probably thinks we all died! Gone forever." Ashaa collapsed, sobbing openly. Her wings drooping down beside her as she cried.

I knelt beside her, my talon on her shoulder. I had to be stronger, for her sake. If not for Ashaa I would have been exactly where she was now, lost and broken. "I miss them too, but we have to stay strong, Ashaa. If we keep faith that there is a way home we will find it. If you give up now then our friends and family are truly gone." Ashaa looked up towards the sky, then back at me, fear warring with determination in her eyes.

"Yes, okay. You’re right, I'm sorry... Just don’t die on me okay? You’re all that's left..." She stood up and shook herself, looking out towards a small box canyon on the far western side of town. "Why don't we check out that canyon? I don’t think we’ve been out there before."

Huh, how long had that been there? Obviously, a long time, since it was an entire canyon. But still... I nodded, standing up towards the suspiciously ordinary canyon. "All right, let's go check it out."

What was this place doing in the middle of southern Equestria? All of Neigh Orleans was a swamp. Wet. Water everywhere, the ground, the sky, the air... This area had none of that here. The small box canyon was dry as hell, not a single drop of water in this boring ass place. And dust everywhere, this was the first time I had seen dust like this since leaving Mount Eris.

Kinda sad when seeing dust makes ya homesick isn’t it?

The only mildly interesting things here were two small military installations on either side of the canyon. the only signs of life were two guards standing in a watchtower. We were too far away to discern their species. We decided to pick our way down the steep slope towards the nearest one about a half-mile away. Using the large rocks and long-dead trees that dotted the landscape Ashaa and I made it to the wall of the base with the guards inside none the wiser.

From our closer vantage point, I could see that the guards were zebras, one had a maroon combat vest and the other was wearing a light orange jacket. their stripes were red rather than black. Zebras??? What is a whole base of zebras doing here? Hmm, very strange. But who was in the other base? Then the two guards started talking. For the sake of simplicity and not knowing their actual names, we’ll go with Vest and Jacket.

Vest turned towards Jacket. Looking just as bored as Ashaa had a few hours ago.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"You ever wonder why we’re here?"

Jacket stared up at the sky as if the answer to Vest's question lay up there. "It's one of life's great mysteries, isn't it? Why are we here? I mean, are we the product of some cosmic coincidence, or are the Stars really watching everything? You know, with a plan for us and stuff. I don't know, man, but it keeps me up at night."

The two zebras stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Vest tilted his head in confusion. "...What?! I mean why are we out here, in this canyon?"

Jacket looked away in embarrassment. "Oh. Uh... yeah."

"What was all that stuff about the stars?"

"Uh...hm? Nothing."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Vest glared at the ground. "Seriously though, why are we out here? As far as I can tell, it's just a box canyon in the middle of the swampland. And it's really hard to get in or out."

Jacket nodded "Mm-hmm."

Vest then gestured with a hoof towards the base on the other side of the canyon. "The only reason that we set up a Red Stripe Base here, is because they have a Remnant Base over there. And the only reason they have a Remnant Base over there, is because we have a Red Stripe Base here."

Jacket nodded as if this made sense. "Yeah. That's because we're fighting each other."

Vest shook his head. "No, no. But I mean, even if we were to pull out today, and if they would come take our base, they would have two bases in the middle of a box canyon. Whoopdee-fucking-doo."

Jacket mulled this over for a second. "Talk about a waste of resources. I mean, we should be out there finding Raiders and other bad guys... You know, fight them."

Vest nodded. "Yeah, no shit. That's why they should put us in charge."

While all of this was good information for us, As the guards were talking they had moved from their tower to the rampart facing us and were now only a few yards away from
our rock. My E.F.S tagged the zebra guards as a friendly blue colour, but that could change in a heartbeat. Thankfully a harsh voice came out from inside the base.

"LADIES, FRONT AND CENTER ON THE DOUBLE!"

Jacket and Vest jumped out of their sitting position and hurried towards a flight of stairs that was out of sight.

"Yes, sir!" Jacket shouted as Vest simultaneously muttered "Fuck..."

Ashaa turned to me, confusion playing across her face. "What's the Remnant?"

"A group of Zebras Whose main focus is to continue the great war that started all this mess."

Ashaa looked even more confused. "But... The great war ended two hundred years ago with global annihilation, why are they still fighting?"

"Well you see, they’re following the final orders of their last Caesar, which was to eliminate all of ponykind."

You could almost see the smoke coming out of her ears as her brain overheated while trying to understand all this.

"Yeah, I know Ashaa, it makes no sense. It's just how they work."

The very confused hippogriff shook her head violently to clear it. "Okay then... Who are the other guys? The Red stripes?" I rolled my eyes. Obviously, someone had slept
through Equestrian history class. "Zebras who fought for Equestria during the war dyed their stripes red to signify what side they were on."

"Well what should we do? It seems that they’ve fought to a standstill. Do you wanna go in guns blazing and make a big mess like you usually do?" Ashaa suggested. I scoffed, offended. "Not all my plans work out that way, only most of them do. And no. We are going back home and getting our friends, this isn’t something we can handle on our own." Ashaa nodded, turning towards the base to get a better look at it. "Even with Shadow and Thunderheart, what is there that we can do to help these red stripe guys? This is big." "I don't know sister, but we have to do somethi-"

¡Detente allí, escoria remanente! Suelta tus armas!

What?! We turned around to find a zebra covered in brown body armour and a battle saddle with two very large energy weapons. He seemed a little mad.

¡Soy López el pesado, te entregarás a mí o serás destruido!

Ashaa and I held our talons up to show we had no weapons, as they were all stashed in our Sub dimensions

Each hippogriff has access to their own "sub-dimension", I like to call mine my Inventory. It's a place where you can stow away your stuff so you don’t have to carry it all around with you. There were rules to what you can put in it, like nothing alive, or anything bigger than yourself. It's like having a backpack with infinite space that only you can open.

"Hey, Lopez! What did ya find over there?" Lopez turned his head towards the voice. "Encontré dos coloridos grifos azules, probablemente funcionen para el remanente."

"Dude, we have got to fix your voice box, none of us can speak Hisponic."

Lopez scowled. "¡No estoy hablando hispónico, estoy hablando el lenguaje de los dioses! ¡Tú y todos los que habitan en este cañón arderán en el infierno, porque tus pecados
son grandes!"

"Oh quit yer bitching Lopez. I know we forgot your birthday, but we're at war. And birthday parties are for when we are not at war." From around the bend came another zebra in bright pink combat barding. His eyes lit up when he saw my sister and me.

"OOOO you found some extra colourful gryphons! I thought you guys came only in boring brownish colours!"

Ashaa rolled her eyes. She was getting as tired as I was of people calling us gryphons. "We’re Hippogriffs, and we come in peace, we only want to talk."

The ditzy looking zebra thought for a moment, glancing back at the base. "Hi there! I'm Private Donut! Let's get you two to the- Wait, I was told to go on patrol. If I come back now the Sarge will be mad. Hey, Lopez here can take you guys back to base!"

Lopez obviously didn’t like this. He glared at the pink zebra with contempt.

"¡No Voy a escoltar a estas molestas criaturas de colores brillantes hasta nuestra base! ¡Podrían ser espías!"

Donut stared at us quizzically. After a moment he shook his head. "I don't know man, they don't look like predators to me. Even if they are, you're a robot, so they probably wouldn’t be into you anyway."

I glanced over at Lopez, then back a Donut. What is this place? What the hell is going on? Is everyone in this damn canyon crazy?

"Wait, he's a robot?"

Donut shrugged, shaking his head. "Yeah, his voice box is broken, which is why he only speaks hisponic."

Lopez stomped his hooves, looking very pissed.

"¡Tonto! ¡Estos dos solo causarán caos y dolor! ¡El fuego lloverá de los cielos! ¡Las plagas correrán desenfrenadas! ¡Todos perecerán dolorosamente y arderán para siempre en los pozos del infierno! ¡Si estas criaturas inmundas no son asesinadas ahora, nos destruirán a todos!"

Donut waved his hoof dismissively, walking off as he said, "Oh don't worry Lopez, we’ll get your oil changed soon. Just get these two back to base."

Then we were left with a robot zebra with two really big guns who looked like he wanted to disobey his orders and just get rid of us. I almost summoned my twin desert eagles, Love and Tolerance, from my Inventory when Lopez sighed as his twin energy blasters folded up into his battle saddle. He turned away from us and stomped off towards the base. "Estoy jodido, ¡Están jodidos, todos estamos JODIDOS! Vamos, destructores, el Sargento querrá verte."

Ashaa and I looked at each other, whatever he had said, Lopez wasn’t going to kill us. Ashaa shrugged, turning to follow the irate zebra. I did the same.

The base in question was a giant grey two-story circle with big flat-tipped spires at intervals along the top. Out on the field were the two zebra guards and another with bright red combat boots and vest. The three appeared to be arguing about the jeep behind them, It looked kinda like a puma. As we got closer the three zebras the red one turned to us
with a smile on his face.

"Well well, what do ya got there Lopez? A couple a colourful gryphons? Are they prisoners or visitors? If they’re prisoners I say we eat em! Gryphons taste like chicken ya know." Jacket facehoofed and vest muttered something about it being taco night and not gryphon night. Lopez shook his head as he pointed at us.

"Estos dos no son prisioneros, pero no invitados. Ellos son los que terminarán nuestra pequeña guerra limpiando el valle con fuego y balas. Debes tratarlos con respeto."

The red zebra sighed impatiently, rolling his eyes.

"Dammit, just nod if they’re prisoners or shake your head if they’re guests."

Lopez shook his head, much to our relief. "Well alrighty then, ma name's Sarge, the idiot in orange is Grif," prompting a "Hey!" from Grif. "And the maroon kiss-ass is Simmons."

After explaining who Ashaa and I were and that we weren’t remnant spies the conversation moved towards why they were here fighting the remnant when there were better things to do with a small army of five zebras. From what I could tell, Griff and Simmons had summed it up pretty nicely earlier. They were here fighting because the Remnant was here fighting them. The canyon had no strategic value, no stable water source, and no other buildings for a mile around. It was utterly pointless.

"Is there any way to stop this? A peaceful way?" Ashaa pleaded. For the last half-hour, she had been trying to show the zebras that there was always a kind solution to problems. She was not very successful.

Sarge shook his head. "No can do Ma’am, If we pull out against orders we'll be branded as deserters, with an actuall branding iron. And the remnant hates our guts and will stop at nothing to see us dead, so I'm fairly certain there's no persuading them to leave. Any treaty would have to be signed by our superiors, and they'd rather we duke it out in here till one side is dead. So the best way to end this is to eliminate either us or the remnant."

We were in the war room, a fairly small area with a giant table with a 3D map of the canyon that took up most of the space. The only lighting came from a large lamp hanging from the ceiling. Ashaa was currently banging her head on the table in frustration. My head shot up. Wait, I had an idea.

"Is there any way we could get them to surrender? Give up?

The red zebra was about to shake his head again when a thought came to him.

"One way they would leave is if we completely surround and overpower them. Which is kinda impossible cuz they got a tank. The other way is to get inside their base and steal their flag. It's their way of keeping morale up. If they still have their flag they think they can win. The only problem with that plan is that to get to their flag we have to go through the tank."

"What if we created a diversion? One group distracts their main forces and the tank while a smaller group goes in and take the flag?"

"Whoever leads the charge to distract them would have to be crazy," Sarge said, looking up at the ceiling. "Good thing I'm the right kind of crazy! Todays a good day to die boys!" Simmons, who had been silent this whole time stood up, concerned.

"I don't know Sarge, can't we push dying to next Tuesday?"

"Why? You got a hot date tomorrow night? Let's do this!"

Ashaa hated this plan. It was her job to sneak in and steal the flag while accompanied by Donut. At first, she was sceptical about having the ditzy zebra be a part of the stealth mission until it was revealed that Donut had once snuck into the remnant base on accident and had almost got away with the flag. He was the only one who knew the layout of the area and where the flag was hidden.

But it wasn’t her lack of stealth skills or her easily distracted companion that worried her. It was the fact that leading the charge right beside Sarge was Blitz. Her mildly insane brother had done some crazy things before, but attacking a small army of highly trained warrior zebras and a tank head-on was a first for him. She trusted him to stay safe, but Ashaa was still scared. she knew Blitz, he'd charge the tank himself if it meant helping someone.

Enough of this, if we don't get moving then the distraction will be for nought. Ashaa shook her head violently, then glanced at Donut, who was staring down the scope of his rifle.

"Hey Ashaa? Why is your brother making weird symbols with his hand?"

The cyan hippogriff's head shot up.

"They’re talons, not hands. And that's the signal, we need to move."

Ducking behind a large rock formation the two infiltrators made their way towards the enemy. Fear warring with determination in their hearts.

"Are you ready kid? This is gonna be one helluva battle."

"Anything to stop this senseless fighting Sarge."

"Alright then, signal our stealth team to move forward. We'll charge in five minutes." All the zebras were in full combat barding, each in their respective colours. as well as a
battle saddle for each of them. The bright red Sarge had two riot shotguns, maroon Simmons had a sniper rifle one side and an ammo box on the other, containing ammunition
for everyone. Grif in his orange barding wielded a submachine gun in his mouth and a sword on his back, Brown Lopez's huge miniguns came out from his midsection rather than a battle saddle. I was decked out in my black combat vest and gloves, a pair of red aviators covering my eyes, a gift from Shadow a while back. My battle scythe strapped to my back. If needed I had all my other weapons in my inventory, ready to be used.

I turned towards a large rock formation. if you looked hard enough you could see the glint of Donut's sniper rifle as he stared through the scope, waiting for the signal. I waved towards them, making a few hand symbols with my talons to make sure he knew I wasn’t just saying hi. I only stopped when the silver speck that was Donut’s rifle disappeared.

The remnant had spotted us. I could see small figures running around, preparing to meet us in battle. "One minute to go boys. Blitz and I will go front and centre, Grif will flank left and Lopez will flank right. Simmons will provide support in the way of ammo refills and as a sniper. You got that maggots?"

Yes Sir! we all responded. Sarge turned to look at me, only a hint of concern in his manic eyes.

"You sure you can take out that tank? The five of us have tried time and again to take that monster of a machine with little or no success. Why do you think you can do what five trained warriors cannot?"

I gave a sinister smile. "Don't worry Sir, I have a feeling my special kind of crazy is just what we need."

Sarge nodded, smiling back. "Good answer kid. Don't let us down."

WhydidIagreetothissweetNovotherearesomanyofthemhowwillgetin!

Ashaa decided that now was a good time to panic. The remnant had seen Blitz and the others in the distance and had started to exit the base towards them. Though a large number of them were leaving there were still quite a few on the ramparts of the large rectangular building. Anyway one could approach the base was covered. How were they to do their part if they couldn’t even get near the place!? Ashaa hyperventilated for a moment until she saw Donut trotting up behind her. Slowing her breathing she turned to face him. Donut must have seen her expression before she put her mask of confidence back on.

"Don't worry about them. The remnant might be guarding all the visible entrances, but I found a secret entrance. It leads to A cell in their prison." Ashaa tilted her head in confusion.

"How did you find it?"

Donut thought for a moment as if trying to remember. "Well, I think I found the one time Grif and Simmons send me to the store to get headlight fluid. Or maybe it was the time I went out looking for Lopez's lost leg, or may-"

"Okay okay. it doesn’t matter, let's just go." Ashaa interrupted. Donut nodded, leading the way.

Ashaa could see why the remnant hadn’t bothered to guard this entrance. It looked pre-war from all the rust, grime, and general disrepair. The worn StableTec logo above the door also helped identify the area's age. It wasn’t, however, a stable. The farther the two went, the more it looked like a laboratory. Discarded beakers and flasks littered the floor among stacks of rotting paper. Strange colourful stains covered the walls as well as the floor and ceiling. Many of the decrepit desks had scorch marks or deep gouges. As if a dragon had raged through the halls. Every light was on and working, and not a single flicker came from them. When StableTec builds something, they build it to last, that includes the lighting system.

Ashaa followed Donut through the halls towards what the signs called a restricted area. As they progressed, the doors got bigger and thicker. Fortunately for them, something big had smashed through them all. This was probably quite unfortunate for whoever had worked here, but Ashaa chose to ignore that thought

Donut led them to a room labelled ’StableTec emergency exit. Use only in case of serious containment breach’ . It was the only room with corpses. Mangled skeletons littered the ground, torn up and shattered. There were even a few limbs hanging from the ruined ceiling. The only intact skeleton was a unicorn who seemed to have died trying to open the giant round door on the far wall.

The pink zebra ignored all the death surrounding him. He was humming to himself as he used a few tools to do what the dead unicorn had tried and opened the door easily.

“I keep the door locked so it’s stuck shut. That way if the Remnant ever finds it they’ll think it's blocked.”

Ashaa was impressed. This showed a level of intelligence that she hadn’t seen from Donut before. Before she could congratulate him, the door swung open, revealing a small tunnel. It was as well lit as the rest of the facility, with much less grime and rust. With a deep breath, Ashaa took the first step in.

"My men are making bets on whether you went mad, suicidal, or both. Come on Sarge, this is all you’ve got for us today? Even though it looks like you replaced that pink idiot for a hippogriff it’s still five to forty. So unless you found your own tank I suggest you surrender to be quickly and cleanly executed instead of dying painfully on this battlefield!"

Sarge grinned amused by the Legate's offer. "We only surrender real soldiers, not you cheap knockoffs! It’ll be a cold day in hell before we yield to you!"

"Well then hell is where you’re going, Sarge!" The Legate shouted.

"I'll see you there!" Sarge called back. The Legate had once been a good friend of Sarge, they had grown up on the same island and had practically been brothers. The closest thing to a sibling Sarge had ever known.

Then the Remnant had arrived, taking with them any able-bodied zebra to fight their twisted war. Sarge hadn’t been taken as he had broken his left hind leg two days before on one of his misadventures with the Legate. Enraged, Sarge had sworn vengeance against the Remnant and on his eighteenth birthday joined the Red Stripes to find and rescue his
friend.

Sarge found him on the battlefield one day. But He had chosen his side, there was no reason to rescue a soldier who now believed in what he was fighting for.

Since then they had become frenemies of a sort, fighting each other, but not to the death. Though it seemed today's charge had been the last straw. The Legate would not let a single one of them leave this canyon alive.

Sarge turned to look back at us. He looked down at the watch on his foreleg. "Ten seconds till we charge boys."

We all silently counted down until we hit zero. Then as one shouted "GLORIUM CELESTIA!" And a "Gloria del celestial!" From Lopez. The Remnant Yelled
something incomprehensible and charged us head-on. Lopez and Grif took the right and left respectively, Simmons held back, laying down cover fire and handing out a few last-minute magazines. Sarge and I ran to meet the Remnant at the front. Reaching behind me I twirled out my scythe while standing up to run on my hind legs. Sarge mouthed the bit of his battle saddle, ready to tear into the enemy lines with his shotguns.

The zebras in front started to fire on us, I used my free talon to erect a white magical shield in front of me to deflect the bullets. Sarge made no move to dodge the incoming assault, the bullets pinging off his red armour. My mind was focused on the battle, ready to clash with the zebras moving closer and closer. The only concern in my head was the fact that there was no tank to be seen. Where was it?

This tunnel seemed to be endless. There were no doors, only one way to go, so they must be going the right way. About thirty feet back the lights had gone out, forcing Ashaa to summon a light orb to hover next to her left shoulder. There was more and more rust on the walls an floor as more cracks in the steel lining of the tunnel appeared. Eventually, a speck of light was seen in the distance. Over the next ten minutes or so the light got bigger until it was bright enough to extinguish the light orb. The last light of the tunnel was still on, and past it was a ladder that Ashaa hoped led to the exit.

Thankfully Donut took the lead and pulled the ladder down and started climbing with some difficulty as he had no hands or talons to effectively use the ladder. Ashaa followed close behind, having an easier time than Donut. The zebra above her opened a small hatch and poked his head out cautiously, looking left and right before glancing down at Ashaa to say "Coast is clear, let's get going." Ashaa nodded and crawled out after him.

They were in an empty jail cell, actually, the whole jail was empty save for the last cell at the back that contained a pile of rags and feathers that might have been a pegasus once. If the poor thing was still alive he/she hadn’t noticed them yet. Ashaa decided that on the way out of here she would come to free him/her. The only problem with that was to get to the part where they escaped they had to finish getting in. While Ashaa had been staring at the emaciated pink pegasus Donut had found the door to their cell was locked as was now trying to open it as quietly as possible. Ashaa knew plenty of spells to break the door, but all of them would make lots of noise. So they were stuck.
Donut hit the door in frustration, creating a loud clang!, Making the Pegasus in the back jump up from his/her sleeping position to sit up, glancing around wildly until his/her eyes landed on us.

"KEEP QUIET PRISONER! IF I HAVE TO COME DOWN THERE YOU'LL GET THE WHIP AGAIN!"

The pegasus cringed, looking towards the door of the jail then back at them. In a soft, rusty, feminine voice she replied, "Yes Sir! Sorry..." She then turned towards the two newcomers, shaking off the pile of rags she had been previously covered in. Now that all of her was visible it was obvious she wasn’t being fed, her ribs sticking sharply out of her chest. Her wings were tattered with quite a few feathers missing.

"How did you two end up here? Why didn’t I hear the zebras put you there?"

Ashaa was the first to respond, glancing at the hidden trapdoor behind her. "We snuck in here." The gaunt pegasus tilted her head in confusion, smiling slightly.

"Why would you sneak into a jail cell? If you’re trying to be stealthy wouldn’t this last place you wanna end up?" She had a good point there.

"Well... At the moment we’re trying to sneak out of the cell and into the base." Donut replied, glaring at the lock in front of his nose. The poor girl looked very confused now.

“But don’t you want to escape? Get out of this Celestia forsaken canyon?”

Ashaa smiled as she noticed a set of keys hanging from a hook on the wall across the hall from her. Using her magic she gently and quietly floated them over to Donut so he could open the door. "We’re here to retrieve a few things, that list now includes you. My name is Ashaa, and this is Donut. You are getting out of here, I promise."

The first clash was like nothing I have ever experienced before. The wall of enemies got closer and closer until you are muzzle to muzzle with your foe, hoof against talon and sword against scythe. When you're fighting like this all motivations slip away except for one, survive.

The zebras in the front had realized that their bullets were ineffective against me and decided to strap their guns to their backs and prepare for a melee battle, something I had hoped for. On Mount Eris, every hippogriff is required to have at least three years of combat training in case of an invasion from the Enclave or a similar threat. As a merchant my father made me take an extra four years so I would be truly ready for anything while out at sea, making me a melee expert.

Three zebras jumped at me, front hooves outstretched to try and shatter the magical shield I had up in front of me. With the momentum they had, they would probably succeed. So instead of letting them break my spell and my focus I dropped it and raised my talons to deflect the incoming hooves. Only one of my three assailants was able to react fast enough and re-aim his strike towards me, the other two flew off to either side of me, giving me a moment to deal with the first guy. That moment would not last long, however, so I had to act quick. Dodging the outstretched hoof I grabbed his foreleg and twirled him into another incoming foe, knocking them both into a heap. Hearing hoofsteps behind me a whirled around to find the third zebra now had a sword in his mouth and was advancing. I pulled my battle scythe out of its straps on my back and rose to meet him.

Our blades clashed violently again and again as we lunged and parried and dodged. While zebras may have the advantage when it comes to martial arts, having talons to grip my weapon definitely gave me the advantage in this brawl. Spinning my scythe I twisted the sword out of my opponent's mouth and then proceeded to hit him right between the eyes with the blunt end of my weapon, knocking him out cold.

I had only a second to remember the two zebras I had knocked over before I found myself shoved to the ground, both of them standing over me. One kicked the scythe out of my talon before I could aim it at them as the other delivered another painful kick to my side throwing me completely off balance. For some reason they allowed me to get up before attacking again. Big mistake. I used my magic to levitate my scythe, which was behind the zebras, who were now looking at me in confusion, 'why is his talon glowing red?' I could almost hear them think. I pulled my talon back, pulling the scythe with it. One soldier took the time to turn around and was cleanly decapitated. Now my weapon once again rested in my talons, the blade dripping red. The remaining zebra took one look at me and ran.

After finishing off the unconscious zebra I jumped sideways to avoid a flying knife. While I had been occupied another zebra had snuck up behind me and was now hurling various sharp objects in my direction. After dodging a wicked-looking tomahawk I charged him. The bastard saw what I was doing and pulled out a huge axe from his back and charged as well. which was just what I wanted. At the last second, I jumped up and over my opponent’s back. As I turned around I summoned Love and tolerance, my twin desert eagles, and opened fire upon the confused enemy, turning the poor zebra into a bloody, smoking heap. Two more approached from behind me, I quickly put a 13-millimetre explosive round into both of their heads. After that my memory got a little hazy. It became a rhythm, a pattern almost. Slash, duck, shoot, jump, reload, shoot, slash, duck, shoot.

Eventually, I ran out of opponents and was able to survey the battle going on around me. Even though we doing well now, we couldn’t keep this up for much longer. Ashaa had to get back soon. Sarge was standing proudly on a pile of bodies, with his riot shotguns long emptied he had taken to brutal melee, punching and kicking his way through his foes. Simmons was up on a hill taking potshots and tossing ammo to Lopez as he spewed Hisponic biblical nonsense and bullets simultaneously. Grif seemed to be running around frantically as if his tail was on fire, shooting his submachine gun randomly. Seven times out of ten he hit an enemy zebra, the other three were either the ground, sky, or Lopez. Lopez, being made of metal, took no damage from the small-calibre bullets but did find it annoying. "¡Oye idiota! ¡Deja de dispararme! ¡Coloca Fuego supresor a tu izquierda!"

Grif woke from his crazed stupor, glancing around frantically to make sense of his current situation.

"What!? Oh, sorry Lopez, the tank scared me... WAIT GUYS THE TANK IS HERE!"

I turned to look at the hill Grif was staring at to find it was true. The Legate had grown tired of the fight and was now riding on top of a 20-foot tall striped tank whilst grinning maniacally. Sarge glanced at me, nodding. It was time for me to finish this.

The Remnant base was a miniature labyrinth with its twists and turns and side tunnels and side-side tunnels. Thankfully their new companion Silent Storm knew the fastest way through to the flag room as it was called. Sneaking past the skeleton crew that guarded the building was easy due to the surprising amount of large potted plants, banners, and statues you could hide behind. After an extremely tense twenty minutes of hiding under a bench as two guards commented on the weather, (or lack thereof), the three acquaintances made it to their destination. It was a large circular room near the centre of the base, colourful banners lined the walls and covered the ceiling. In the middle of the rotunda placed in a small ornate stand was the flag.

The flag was a violent shade of blue with a smug-looking zebra holding a rifle while standing on top of a dead earth pony riddled with bulletholes and comical X's over its eyes. Ashaa quickly rolled up the flag and stuffed it in her Sub Dimension. For some reason, her brother called it his Inventory, as if he was part of a video game. If only she was in a video game or a story, one where everything works out and no one Ashaa cared about getting hurt.

But this was no fairy tale, this was Neigh Orleans, second only to Hoofington and Canterlot for the worst city in the wasteland. If she wanted a happy ending she had to work for it. Starting with getting the hell out of here.

The journey out was almost as uneventful as the journey in until the trio until they reached the barracks. By then someone had sounded the alarm, Ashaa needed to hurry. At the moment the three of them were stuck under a bunk bed as remnant soldiers rushed by above them. Two zebras were having a conversation right beside them. If Ashaa reached her talon out she could have touched them they were so close.

"Our one prisoner seems to have escaped and taken the flag sir."

"Gorramit Caboose! This is why we don’t give free tours to the enemy! Since she knows the layout of the base as well as we do it will take us forever to locate her! We have to get that flag back. If the soldiers hear it's gone then all Morale will be lost!"

"Sorry sir, she just looked really bored in there and-"

"Shut up and start searching Private!"

"Yes, sir!"

The pair then proceeded to race off with the rest of the soldiers, leaving the barracks empty. Donut peeked his head out from under the bed, looking left, then right.

"All clear, let's go." He whispered, pulling himself out with Silent Storm crawling out behind him. From there all they had to do was take a left through the kitchen, past a hallway, and then down to the jail.

Unfortunately, when Caboose was told to search the base, his first stop was the kitchen. Donut, who was in front, turned the corner to find him 'searching' the food cabinets for the escaped Pegasus. The second Donut opened the door Caboose's head shot up, a panicked look on his face.

"IswearIheardherinherebesidesshemustbehungryso- Oh, hey Donut! How have ya been! I haven’t seen you since I got possessed by an evil A.I and tried to kill everyone! Did that gunshot wound I accidentally gave you heal up nicely? Wait. Why are you here with a hippogriff and Storm?"

What?

"Well you see, I was coming over to say hi when we found Silent Storm. She said she was lost and was trying to find her way back to her jail cell, so that's where we’re taking her"

Caboose squinted at the three of them. As if trying to figure out if they were lying. It seemed like hours that Ashaa waited for Caboose to respond, though it was probably less than a minute. Finally, the Private nodded. Having decided that it was a good reason for two intruders and a prisoner to be wandering the base, he turned to leave the room. Right before he pushed open the door his head shot up and he turned around.

"Before I go, do any of you have our flag? We kinda lost it."

Donut quickly shook his head, trying very hard not to look at Ashaa.

"Sorry man, we don't, but I think I saw it in the storeroom down the hall."

"Oh, thanks! Church will be so happy I found our flag! Bye guys!"

"Bye!" The three relieved friends said in unison. The second Caboose was out the door they raced towards the jail, quickly opening the door of the cell and flipping the lid of the trapdoor open so fast the hinges almost broke off. Ashaa didn't look back until they were at the cog shaped door of the lab. Donut trotted over to the lever to close the door. Releasing a breath she hadn’t known she'd been holding, Ashaa sat down beside Silent Storm, who was on her side gasping for breath in between bouts of quiet laughter.

"Oh my, I haven’t had that much excitement in moons, or that much exercise. Ouch, I think my hind legs are cramping up. We should get going before the lactic acid in our muscles makes it painful to move."

Donut nodded as he helped Storm up to her hooves.

"Yeah. And we don’t have a lot of time. Sarge and the others can't hold off the Legate for much longer."

I didn’t think we could hold them off much longer. If I didn’t take out that tank fast we would all be fucked. The only other option was for Ashaa to come back with the flag, But that needed to happen right. fucking. now.

The massive striped tank fired its first round, missing Grif by barely a meter. Flinging the orange clothed zebra into the air screaming. He landed with a dull thud in front of Lopez, who was now directing his fire at the tank as there were no more remnant soldiers, they had all backed off to watch the show. One even had popcorn.

The Legate held a speaker to his muzzle as he hopped out of and onto the great war machine. "This is your last chance rebel scum! surrender now and I'll let the Gryphon live. he has no part in our battle."

"I am getting so tired of people calling me a gryphon! I'm a hippogriff! And since you're in Neigh Orleans, which happens to be my town, this is my battle!"

And with that, I pulled out Vindicta, my 55 calibre anti-machine rifle. I wasn’t the best with it, but it was big and scary, which usually makes lesser bad guys back off. I had a theory that if I shot a round right into the barrel it would hit the shell or something important and wreck the tank. The only problem was that I had to make the shot. I took careful aim, let out a breath, and pulled the trigger.

The round bounced off the side of the tank as it fired back, blowing the ground from underneath me. Vindicta fell out of my talons as I tumbled down what was left of the small hill I had been sitting on. I couldn’t hear it over the sound of my ears ringing, but I could see the Legate laughing.

"You have to do better than that to best me! But it was valiant, so your death will be quick."

Crawling over to my gun, I watched as the turret slowly turned towards me, preparing to fire again. It was over. I had tried so hard to help these people. Only to be gunned down in the mud.

No. I won't go down like this. Think of your friends, your family, your town. they need you. I jumped towards Vindicta just as the tank fired again, blowing me even closer to my gun. Picking it up I took aim once more, blinking the sweat and blood out of my eyes and waited. As the turret turned to point at me again, you could hear the next shell clunk into place, ready to fire.

I shot first.

The inside of the tank detonated, the force of the explosion shooting the Legate into the sky, his striped tail on fire. The remnant zebras behind him got to their hooves immediately, ready to fight as the Legate landed right at the hooves of the waiting Sarge.

"Well then old friend, ready to give up?"

The Legate slowly stood up, spitting out a few bloody teeth.

"I still have an army, when I say the word they'll tear into you. Even if you kill me they'll keep fighting."

"But an army needs the motivation to fight, and with no tank, no leader, and no flag. I think they’ll want to head home instead."

Everyone turned to look at Ashaa, standing proudly above us on a ledge. The Remnant flag in one talon.

"Ah fuck this, I ain't gonna lose my life for a cause I was paid to believe in. I'm gonna get the truck ready to go home, any who wanna follow me are welcome."

One zebra turned and trotted off, then two, four, ten, thirty, until only the defeated Legate remained. He sighed, looking from his ruined tank to the flag in Ashaa's talons.

"Damn it. And Damn you! How did you get into our base?"

Ashaa shrugged, shaking her head.

"You guys have terrible security. And way too many oversized objects to hide in."

"Well yes, we do a hide and seek championship every month. You can't do that without places to hide!"

These guys were idiots.

"Fuck. I guess you've won Sarge. What now?"

The red zebra pulled the Legate up to his hooves, a small smile on his muzzle.

"Now, Akra, we go home. I've had enough of this damn canyon." Akra smiled back.

"So have I, old friend. Let's go." Sarge turned to me, nodded, and left towards the redd base. the others followed suit. Until it was just me and Ashaa. She broke the silence first.

"Well you sure look like you had an adventure." I laughed, taking a closer look at my sister.

"So do you! What happened in there? Where's Donut?"

"Loooong story."

Checking my pipbuck I realized that Shadow had been trying to message me for almost 3 hours now. Since we had been gone all day I wasn’t surprised.

"We should head home, the others are getting worried."

"Sounds good to me! I don't care how boring it is there, I just want my bed!" we both laughed at that.

"Me too sister, let's go."

Author's Note

I hope you enjoyed our big collab story! It was lots of fun to write and hopefully fun to read!

-A_Bloodthirsty_Unicorn56

Intro

I looked over my class, a feigned smile across my lips looking out over them, barely out of foalhood none of them having a mark on their flank, years ago the wastes had gotten just a bit better, but that’s a story we all know, and they were still as dangerous as ever, “Alright class,” I finally started, Celestia knew it did my heart no good to discuss this with them, but things had to be learned and sooner was always better than later.

“Now, this may be a bit difficult, but you must learn, Equestria… it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, they’re more common than when I was your age but it’s still a rarity, today I will teach you all just a minor amount of the dangers you may face one day, twenty six of them one for each letter,” I continue taking a bit of chalk in a shaky telekinetic aura.

“We start of course, A…”

Author's Note

By G-man64

Outro

I finally finished, letting the chalk fall back below the board, “Are there any questions?” I asked looking out, seeing a single hoof shoot up, “Yes?”

“Are those stories real?” the young filly asked, “I mean, they were all so… different…”

“All stories are different, told by many different ponies, and true or not, I feel the lessons they tell are truly more important, none of this has been easy, but you all have better lives than I or your parents, Equestria has always been changing, not always for the better, but you can all see the skies again, you have protection, and while these dangers still exist, I also believe you have better protection from whatever may be to come,” I continue tearing up.

“Just remember the lessons you’ve learned, who knows what may end up saving your life? Or the life of another? Who knows where your cutie mark may one day lead? All we know for sure is, be yourselves, and stay safe…”

Author's Note

By G-man64