Fallout Equestria: Desperados

Fallout Equestria: Desperados

Wasteland, Part 3

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"Moving away from the subject of the Ministries, I asked Slowtrot about any other aspects of how things went so wrong. He told me about how miserable ponies seemed to flourish wherever he went. Adding how they seemed to love being miserable by actively dragging everypony down with them as they pulled themselves up.

Sometimes it was some sort of self sacrificing pony who would do all the work. After that, they would proceed to whine about how they are under appreciated. Others were the ponies who spread drama wherever they go and with every pony they talk to. But most were simply pessimists, waiting for something to go wrong just so they can’t tell everyone that they told them so.

What seemed to bother Slowtrot about them was how they were always in charge of whatever job he had back then. My guess would be that in a miserable world, those who are naturally miserable flourish while dragging everyone down with them. I can also see those people not actually doing anything to make things better, even after their world ended. Likely they would have probably attempted to start their own fires as everything burns down around them." ~ Azure Dice

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Placing the last set of bullets into an old paper box and that box into a metal ammo box, Hardballer closed it and used a metal wire to seal the ammo box. “That’s the last of the ammunition the Desperados ordered, Thanks for the help Slowtrot.”

I let myself relax, sliding onto the floor. It had taken me all of yesterday, and a far bit of today, to press all the bullets that had been ordered. I also did a whole lot more when I mistakenly miscounted what I had done.

“Great,” I said, “I’m going to take a day off now. My legs still feel a bit like jelly.”

The older griffin nodded. “You should. You worked harder than a slave yesterday. I’m actually curious, did anything happen yesterday?” He smiled. “You did show up with the Desperado mare that morning.”

I chuckled nervously. “Well ... a few things happened. Let's just leave it at that.”

Hardballer leaned back, looking smug as he looked at me knowingly. “Just be careful with those strong-willed mares. They can be quite a claw full. I should know.”

The smile dropped from his face before he took a deep breath and returned to his stoic look while patting the ammo box. “Well, now that this is done, we should get loaded up for the delivery.”

It was a familiar feeling, finishing a load of ammo I knew was going to be used on another living creature. Back then it was the Zebras. Now it is other ponies. I was just making the bullets, but I don’t know how much that kept the blood off my hooves.

At least with this wasteland, no pony pretended they were innocent. There was no acting like things were alright. Just an acceptance of the truth of their lives.

“I’ll take it to the garage and get it loaded up,” I told Hardballer.

He pushed the ammo box to me. “Alright. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“Your coming?” I asked.

Hardballer gave me a stern look. “This deal is signed in my name. Like fuck will I not see it through.”

With a smile, I took the ammo box. “You griffins have really changed from back then.”

Now I got an inquisitive look. Hardballer raised a very high eyebrow at me. “Changed, how?” he asked curiously.

“Well, back then, you all seemed so… disinterested in everything. Like you were all trying to be as miserable as possible and had no pride in whatever you did. I didn’t see many griffins back then, but I was sure that most of them I did see were just, well… not happy.”

“You think I’m happy now?” He asked in an annoyed tone.

“Well…” I gave a sly smile, trying to be humorous. “I can't say I've ever seen a griffin smile before until I met you.”

Placing the ammo box on my back, I dropped the playfulness, trying to be as serious as Hardballer. “I don’t know what it is. I mean, I’m not the sharpest tool, as they say. But trust me when I say this; all of you Gunrunners look as though you truly enjoy what you're doing. Like you know where you belong and take pride in it… It actually makes me feel a bit envious.”

We silently stared at each other for several seconds.The room feeling cold before then raised a claw up under his beak.

“Maybe so. I can't deny that we take pride in our work. It is who we are and what we aspire to be.” He sat back with a small but honest smile on his beak. “My own great grandfather told me about how harsh things use to be. He said we cling to the glory of times long past and spitting on the world for it shunning us. The only thing that kept us together was our love of the craft and the gold it made for us… well, caps.”

He let his talon relax. It softly fell on his desk. “Ya. I remember it. The stories of Griffinstone’s glory days long before the war. We once tried to remake it during that war.” A chuckle escaped his mouth. “What absurdity, chasing an idol we long lost. Our greatest treasures are what we made ourselves. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The old griffin looked content, much like the old ponies were before the war turned for the worst. There was some worry, but overall they knew they did their best to leave behind something good. Most of them had made something of themselves. A plot of fertile land. A home to live in. A family to share it with. All things I could never do.

A question then formed in me which found a way to worm out of my mouth. “So are you still planning on leaving New Appleoosa?”

“I don’t think I will,” He said with a satisfied tone. “Ashy may hate me, but we all have to move on.”

Hardballer pulled out a picture frame from his desk. Catching a glimpse, I saw a griffin that looked a lot like him but with more feathers on his head. There was also an earth pony mare and three young hippogriffs. The eldest looked a lot like Longslide.

Placing it on his desk, Hardballer sighed. “We all have the right to hate, but it does the memory of those we love no good to stay there. We may never be friends, but we both are working toward the same goal. So no, I will stay here. Do what I can to help make this town what it wants to be, even if it’s simply making sure everypony can defend themselves.”

The thought of everypony here owning a gun filled my head. Suddenly I feared for the idiot who pulled their gun first. I didn’t know how that would make things better, but I felt it was at least in the right direction. If I was sticking to the sound, it would be interesting to see how things would change after the festival.

“Well good luck at making things better. Celestia knows that this town needs the help,” I said with a smile before trotting off. As I left, I could hear Hardballer humming to himself. It was a familiar song that sounded a lot like the old winter wrap-up song everypony sang before the ministry had public servants take care of the winter cleanup.

Trotting out of the workshop, I made my way to the garage. Outside, several of Hardballer's apprentices were relaxing. The younger griffins were puffing on cigarettes as they chatted with each other. I never got to know them all too well, but they were all good griffs, if a bit abrasive. They didn’t have much interest in interacting with ponies, more content to stay in the compound. Considering how the town tended to treat them as outsiders, I could understand.

Still, I did hope that thighs would lighten up for them soon. Let them become part of the town. Maybe help drive Quicktrot out.

If only things were that easy.

Inside the garage were the usual ponies; Harp, Longslide, and Javelina, who was finishing installing the Smuggler’s new gun as Star and Gyrojet sat by watching.

Nearby was the delivery carriage. It was the same one we used to bring all the machine parts back here from the Stable-Tec factory. It was already loaded up with all the fixed up pipe guns and the rest of the ammo. Trotting over to it, I slid the last ammo box in, thus completing the load.

“The Vengeance. That's what it would be called!” Longslide said with pride.

Harp clicked her tongue loudly. “Who are you even avenging against? I think naming it Final Judgment fits far better. Gives it a feeling of authority.”

Javelin stuck her claws in both their face’s “Aeternus is a best name. It is Aeternus now.”

Harp removed the claw from her face. “Isn’t that from the ancient pony tongue… Eternal, I think it meant.”

The younger hippogriff mare nodded with a smile. “Yes, Aeternus. It can… or will shoot for all Aeternus with enough power. So Aeternus.”

Longslide shrugged. “So the gun that shoots forever, hmm… I like that. It is made for sustained firing, so with the right power converter, three more beam talismans, and the right power source… I can see it firing long enough that it seems like it never ends.”

“Aeternus,” Javelina repeated. She got a smile from her brother in response.

The three climbed down and I got a good look at the newly installed Aeternus gatling beam gun. What I saw looked like a much larger sized Griffinstone Typewriter. It’s as if they took the typewriter and upscaled it to that of a battle rifle and added a bunch of lights to it. Just above where it connected to the gunner nests rigging was an odd box-like magazine that gave off a pink glow.

Trotting over to them, my own curiosity grabbed hold of me once again. “How does that thing even work with such a small magazine?”

Javelina held a talon up on each claw and brought them together. “We send from one to the second. Though they never touch, they do touch.”

I raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Harp lowered Javelina’s talons while smiling at her before addressing me. “What she means is that the magazine that you see is actually the house for the beam talismans. The powersours can be either attached to the front of it with a spark cell, or place a power converter there and draw energy from a spark battery kept next to the gunner's nest. The latter lets it fire without it needing to be attached to anything.

I felt my head tilt a bit, trying to understand the second part. “Is that even possible? I mean, even during the war, I never heard of anything like that.”

A chuckle came from Longslide. “I bet. Javelina here figured that we could copy Harp's magical ability to touchlessly send magic from herself to an object. It’s not quite the same, but thanks to Harp, we have made it work. This gun might be the first of its kind.”

I still was not entirely getting past the gun not needing to be plugged into fire. “That’s pretty awesome. I wonder why Equestria never had guns like that?”

“Because that hadn't gotten that far yet,” Gyrojet said from her seat. “Also I don’t think they had Mirage ponies. Anyways, MEW’s were still a new technology at the time. From our old history texts, it seems that every creature around the world was inventing new Magical Energy Weapons with a lot of them being garbage from what our ancestors had written down.”

Star nodded. “Ya. Back on the Blackwater, I remember one time a ship wanted to show off its new beam cannons. Big old lightshow till it blew up. As far as I know, only Gulls have beam cannons installed.”

“What’s a Gull?” Longslide asked.

Raising her forelegs up, Star began to wiggle them a bit. “You know, like those flying things the Enclave loves so much. The ones with the whirly bits.”

“You mean that junk built looking vertibucks the pirates fly?” Harp asked.

Star nodded. “Ya, that. But a Gull can land on water. I remember one of the nuns said that the beam cannons used on the Gulls were invented by Thorn Roseland, making them holy weapons or something.”

Or more likely she just stole some blueprint for a beam cannon before the war ended. “Okay. I get it. Beam weapons back then were a crapshoot as guns go. Still, it’s amazing you now have a gun that doesn't need its ammo with it to fire.”

Longslide sighed. “Unfortunately, no. The Aeternus will need to stay close to its power source to remain functional. It is alredy on the edge of its limited range, so you're not going to just be able to take the gun off and fire it away from the Smuggler. Well, maybe Harp can.”

“I’m the exception, not the rule,” Harp informed us. “Anyway, that gun is a bit too big for me to run off with it.”

Looking at it, it was almost as long as she was and likely was quite heavy too. I wasn't all that acquainted with guns, less so with MEW’s like that, so I was just going to take their word for it.

“Right. So the gun stays on the Smuggler, not that I was ever planning to take it off.” I commented in all seriousness.

Longslide huffed at me. “Good. Last thing I need is the Aeternus to get damaged by somepony dropping it.”

He trotted over to the carriage and checked on everything inside, pulling out one of the pipe guns. “Now these, on the other talon, I don’t think anypony will care if they get damaged. Seriously, even after some polish, they still look like the junk they were when we first made them.”

Alright. They had mentioned, the other day, that some of those guns were originally made by them.

“So why did that Redeye want those guns?” I asked aloud. “The ones you made here are far better than those.”

Longslide put the gun back, closing the box it was in. “I think it was to arm his army as quickly as possible. The first thing he did was capture the factories. Then hoofed it to us so that we could make the guns he needed. Junk as they were, we were able to make a whole lot of them, arming both veteran mercenaries and simple-minded raiders.”

Stepping away from the carriage, he trotted back to us. “While the Fillydelphia slaver clans mostly had old and rusting guns, Redeye was bringing in new guns to the war. A lot more of them than the slavers had. It also helped that it meant he could keep the quality guns for his more trusted soldiers in that war. Eventually he pressed those slavers into submission. After that, it was all about keeping a large stockpile.”

Strange how that sounded familiar… “Wait! Wasn't that the tactic used for the Ironshod guns during the war?”

Everypony looked at me, eyebrows cocked. “Sorry. I just remembered something about gun production during the war. Most of the guns Ironshod made were meant to be as cheap as possible. Several soldiers also had told me that there were always extra guns available, so it was advised to just throw a damaged 10mm away and grab a new one over getting it fixed. A bit of a waist if you ask me.”

“Well getting repairs on the battlefield is quite difficult,” spoke Hadballer as he stepped in. “Also those Ironshod 10mm guns are a bitch to fix and clean. Though I’ll admit that the recoil reduction system they built-in is a work of genius. It even made the SMG capable of muzzle fire. Unfortunately, it meant that if the gun gets busted, there are a bunch of little parts you need to change out.”

I sighed, remembering one of the factory jobs I did for Ironshod. Spending all day pulling a lever to stamp out little parts for the 10mm pistol. “Ya, and those little parts loved to scatter all over the place if you bump any surface they were placed on.”

“That too,” Hardballer agreed. “Anyways, a lot of the ponies Redeye was throwing into that meat grinder were from the raider tribes he recruited, so it was expected that the guns would be misused and lost regularly. It was also a good way of keeping his costs down so that he could spend his wealth in other places. As cheap as these guns may be, they did the job they were built for perfectly.”

“And they're going to war once again,” Longslide said solemnly.

The old griffin trotted up to his son, patting him on his shoulder. “As they were built for. Nothing wrong with that.”

Longslide looked up at his father with a concerned look on his face. “And what if they get into the hooves of another Redeye? The last thing we need is that coming back to bite us again.”

The older griffin cracked a smile. “Then we do what your cousin did and make guns for those who fight the tyrant.”

A smile formed on Longslides beak. “Ya. That might actually be fun.”

“Oh no you two don’t!” Gyrojet chirped up. “You bird brains are not going to galavant across the wasteland when I got a fourth child on the way!”

There was a pause for several seconds before the two male griffs burst out in laughter.

Hardballer shoved Longslide over to his wife. “Son, take a break and comfort Gyrojet. Looks like her mood swings are coming on.”

“I am not having a mood swing, you baulding vulture!” Gyrojet shouted as she threw a tin can at Hardballer.

Dodging the can, Hardballer trotted over to the Smuggler then stopped. Once there, he scratched his beak. “Right. I don’t know how to dive this…” He turned around as he asked, “Do any of you know how to dive this?”

“You think anypony would even let me try?” Star Charter asked with a chuckle.

“Well, I always have others to pilot any motorized vehicles back home,” Harp added.

I raised up my hoof. “I never owned a motor wagon myself, but did do transportation for a few months, so I should know how to drive it.”

“Dad, no!” Longslide pleaded.

But Hardballer shook his head. “No. You’re staying here with Gyrojet. You're in charge until I get back.” He looked at me. “Get in the driver's seat. I’ll take a gunner.”

Fortunately the Smuggler’s controls were quite simple. A steering wheel and three pedals. One pedal for gas, a second for the brakes, and the third was for… Wait. Why are their three pedals? Unless… “Oh, it's a stick shift,” I realized as I tried to hold back my nervousness.

“Anything wrong, Slowtrot?” Harp asked as she buckled herself in.

“Well… this may be a bumpy ride. I’m not the best stick shift diver,” I explained. She cringed.

It felt like several grueling minutes of me attempting to maneuver the Smuggler in position to take the carriage. During that time, Longslide gave me extensive instructions on how the gear shift works. It even felt like he was a disapproving father watching a stallion take his daughter out on a date. I even got the, “Better bring her back before sundown” from him.

With the supplies of guns and ammo hooked up, it was time for us to get ready to leave. Lucky we didn’t have to get geared up in battle saddles this time, but Hardball made sure we were armed. Luckily for me, the Smuggler had compartments to stash our guns. The Trench Gun got a place next to me, as for the service rifle, it was put behind the driver seat with its strap in easy reach of my hooves.

Star and Harp did much of the same, storing their bigger guns where they could easily grab them. The two also had the 10mm pistols they recovered from the stable strapped to their back legs. They offered to do the same with my Chekov's Promise, but I didn’t like the idea of that gun being displayed so openly.

Hardballer himself had brought along a large scoped revolver and his SMG Gabby. With the gun, he also had several drum magazines with him. The old classy kind that were always used in the movies.

Longslide gave his father a raised eyebrow “Dad, you really taking those drums with you? You know the sticks are more efficient and less likely to malfunction. Not as noisy, too.”

Picking up one of the drums, Hardballer shook it. The thing barely made a sound. “Sonny, I've been in this business for a very long time. You don’t think I wouldn't have figured out how to fix those damn problems?” He put the gun and drums away in a secure slot. “Now stop trying to henpeck me. I know what I’m doing. No creature alive would be dumb enough to try and ruin this deal.”

Longslide relented, giving the Smuggler space as he backed away. “Alright, Dad. Just don’t go and bust a hip or something. And make sure nothing happens to the Smuggler!”

The two smiled at each other for a moment before Hardballer looked over at me. After that, he gave the Smuggler two light kicks. “Hit the gas, Slowtrot. Don’t let your name rule you now.”

With a sigh, I gently pushed down on the gas and the Smuggler began to drive off.

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It felt odd. Twice now I had been the passenger, watching the wasteland pass by while holding onto the Smuggler for dear life. Now I was the driver, and it all felt calm… Well, as calm as avoiding rocks every few minutes can be.

The scenery was still that of dry browns and grays. The blowing wind made it a bit hard to concentrate at higher speeds, but it was still… fun.

Guided by Hardballer, we soon came to the meeting space. It looked like the remains of an old drive-in theater, the place looking more like an attempt at a fort. Old motor wagons had been pulled and stacked to make crude barricades and the concession stand building was a lookout tower. Inside were several Desperados who were either standing guard, or playing some games like knife throwing.

As we got close, one of the Desperados waved us in. I drove the Smuggler between the barricades and parked it near the middle of the theater.

The first pony to greet us was Tire Fire. A big smile was on his face as he trotted over.

“Nice. You're even early,” Tire said as he looked up. “It’s not high noon yet.”

Hardballer picked up his gabby and a drum for it. After that, he jumped out of the Smugger to land next to the ganger stallion. “I like to exceed expectations.” He loaded the drum into his gun. “Now about those caps?”

Everything became quiet as I watched the Desperados become tense. I didn’t know what that old griffin was doing, being so aggressive to a pony he was selling too. The last thing I wanted was to get shot at by ponies I had actually gotten in good with.

Tire Fire stared into the old griffin's eyes, offing himself up for several seconds. Then Tire burst into laughter. “Granny Burning was right about you. You are an intense pussy cock. Most of the asshole ponies down here have been major disappointments, but you? Oh boy! You’re scary.”

He backed up and pointed at the concession stand. “We got what you want. I’ll go fetch some of it now.”

“Hay, Slowtrot,” Hardballer called out to me, “go help him bring some of the trade. We’ll get our end of the deal ready.”

Nodding, I hopped out of the Smuggler, putting on my saddlebags and quickly caught up with Tire Fire.

“So this must be a lot of caps if the boss wants me to help you,” I said to the Desperado.

Tire shrugged. “Well, it’s not just caps.”

Trotting inside the concession stand, I saw several boxes with an assortment of metals, tools, and only one filled with caps.

Kicking one box that was filled with a bunch of pipes, Tire Fire smiled back at me. “Elder Burning made sure that we can use more than caps to pay for gun repairs and ammunition. Fortunately for us, we knew where to find an old Ironshod parts storage. Took a day for my clans ponies to get there, and a few more days to get back with all these preserved parts.”

Looking closer, he was right. The box with the pipes were all rifle barrels without a speck of rust on them.

“I hope they didn’t have trouble like we did,” I said, feeling a bit concerned.

Tire Fire cracked his neck, “Nothing major, no. They just had to clear out a radscorpion nest. Something anypony can do if ya got enough guns for it.” Next, he pointed at one of the boxes. “You take the rifle barrels, and I’ll take the caps.”

We both lifted our load. As I moved to leave, Tire blocked my path.

“Say, Dead didn’t come back to us the other day, and when she did, she was being a bit more stupid than normal. You didn’t do anything with her that night?” he asked me with narrowing eyes.

I avoided his gaze. Instead shifting my gaze to the outside as more Desperados began to gather around the Smuggler. “Well, we did a lot of things last night.”

“And that would be?” He further inquired.

Taking a deep breath, I gathered my courage and looked him in the eyes. “Look, I’m not some rough and tumble pony. I’m not very eloquent with my words either. So, whatever Dead and I did was of her own decision. If you want to know about it, you should ask her, not me.”

Tire looked me in the eyes for several seconds before giving a drawn-out groan. “She was right. You do love dancing around that topic.”

“What?” I said, a little confused.

He sighed. “I caught Dead Axle swiping some of the Silphium. She spilled the oil about that night when I threatened to tell the others.”

“Ohh… so are you going to kill me later?” I worriedly asked.

Tire raised an eyebrow before laughing. “No, of course not. If we got all uppity when our clans mares go off galavanting with some stallions, we would have stomped out half the wasteland by now. As ma says, it’s their own damn business if they want to make mistakes. Most learn quickly why ya stick with a strong reliable stallion. Well, that's what Ma says.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, but then got a poke in the chest from Tire Fire. “Don’t think ya is off the hook. If we find that Dead got herself knocked up, be damn sure we're coming to look for you and make sure you make her a right honorable mare.”

“With a shotgun?” I nervously asked.

He nodded before turning back around and leaving the building.

Following, we got back to the Smuggler where Hardballer began to inspect the rifle barrels. Next to him was Harp, who was taking notes as Tire Fire and several other Desperados explained what they else was inside the concession stand. Hardballer was actually quite impressed. The parts were well worth their weight in caps.

From what I could understand, with all the parts the Desperado's had gathered, the Gunrunners would only need to do a little bit of milling work to make at least twenty IF-64 assault rifles. They were the rifles the Equestria military mainly used and were all over the place, though I didn’t see them used much among us non-military ponies back then.

As for the metal bars the Desperado’s were trying to add to the trade, Hardballer was actually interested in taking them. It seemed that quality metals had become hard to find in this region considering most of the scavengers tearing down the old buildings and selling the scrap at high cost.

Unfortunately, the Desperado’s brought a pony who had an eye for business, a strangely thin unicorn with large glasses. They were utterly out of place among the Desperados. It reminded me a lot of a lawyer with how they spoke. In the end, Hardballer got to keep the gun parts, the caps, and some of the metal bars in exchange for the refurbished guns and ammo.

The Desperados still wanted to trade with the Gunrunners as they had even more salvage and all the guns they recovered from the Blood Moon raiders.

“So it’s a deal?” Tire Fire asked Hardballer.

The old Griffin shook his head and told him, “No. Not without a contract being signed.”

Tire huffed in annoyance. “Alright, alright. You griffins and your contracts. How about I go back to town with you to pick up that contract? My clan's ponies can send an elder down here to write it down with ya.”

Hardballer scratched his beak for a few seconds, then nodded. “That’s fine.”

“Alright! Then let's get everything loaded up first. We’ll continue this later.” Tire gave a sharp whistle. “Ya heard me! Get our shit and their shit loaded up. We will be back in an hour to sign another contract with an elder.”

With that, the Desperados quickly moved around all the heavy boxes with little effort. It took no time at all for everypony to be ready. Once it was time to go, Tire Fire hopped into the carriage attached to the back of the Smuggler.

Engines roared and I shifted the Smuggler into drive, carefully driving it out of the fortified theater. We watched as the Desperados drove away before leaving ourselves, retracing the path I took getting here and finding an old broken road which had less rocks in the way.

It wasn’t going to be a direct path to New Appleoosa, but at least it was going to be mildly less bumpy.

*Clunk!*

The Smuggler lurched to the left as it slowed to a crawl. “Fuck! Every time I dive these things,” I complained with a frustrated sigh.

“What the fuck did you even hit, Slowtrot?” Star asked as she looked over the side.

I hopped out to take a look myself. “With my luck, it could be anything.”

What I found was a… Net? A net had gotten tangled up in the left tire, thus preventing it from turning. “What in Tartarus?”

A very sharp whistle caught my attention.

I turned around and saw Sheriff Ashy Oaks trot out from behind an old and rusty billboard. “I got some choice words for all yall.”

Following out from behind her was Deputy False Cap and Deputy Stopped Clock. Many other Deputies also popped their heads out from behind their hiding spots. Several were also from a nearby cliff, armed with scoped rifles.

She eyed us all, focusing mainly on Hardballer, who sat in the gunner nest of the Smuggler. “If you even think about touching that big gun there, I’ll have you know my deputies up on there cliff are ordered to drop you dead. Now all of you come out and disarm all nice and slowly.”

A long and very annoyed sigh came from Hardballer. “You heard the lady,” he said before slowly taking his revolver out and putting it down inside the Smuggler.

We all did the same with any weapon we had on us.

“Your revolver too, Harp Melody,” Stopped Clock insisted.

Harp rolled her eyes before taking out her revolver from her jacket and putting it inside one of the compartments. She looked over at Order, saying. “Stay there.” The drone gave a quiet beep in response.

Getting out of the Smuggler, I stumbled as I realized that I had also grabbed my saddlebag. As a result, I fell over. My medical box made saddleback thudded on the ground. One popped open, spilling some of its contents.

I didn’t have all that much inside. A water bottle, a nature bar, and my Chekhov's Promise with one filled magazine.

Singing, I went to pick up the gun. The bit now had dust on it, but stopped when Ashy whistled at me sharply.

“Stay there, ya idiot,” She said as she trotted over then used her magic to take the gun and the magazine. “I’ll be holding onto this.”

She trotted back to her deputies as she signaled for us to move further away from the Smuggler.

All five of us were standing several hoofsteps away from the Smuggler as Ashy stared at us with contempt. The hot sun was bearing down on us. “You all thought you were smart?”

Annoyed and confused, I responded, “Well, I wouldn't…”

“Shut it!” Ashy cut me off. “You talk when I say you can.”

She loaded Chekhov's Promise and pulled back the slider as she eyed me.

I nodded.

“Selling to raiders? How low can you even go? You thought I wouldn’t find out?” she accused us.

Tire Fire groaned at Ashy. “Oh get off ya pedestal, you petty bitch. We ain't some damned raiders!”

With Chekhov's Promise, Ashy swung it out, hitting Tire in the head. “Talk when I say you can, you filthy raider.” She hit him again. “I’ve been protecting this town for years, and your filthy kind wander in and act like you're not the scum of the world. I’d have ya’ll all hung for just breathing if that dumbass mayor didn’t get in my way.”

A snarl came from Tire. “You're asking for a war, ya stuck up…”

Another blow from my gun came down on Tire, knocking him to the ground.

“Don’t think we're not ready for your kind. I’ve seen the tricks you raiders pull.
We will not be caught off guard a second time.” Ashy assured with vicious hate in her voice.

“Like how you were ready for the Blood Moon raiders?” Harp spoke up.

Ashy raised an eyebrow, trotting over to Harp, and said in a calm and cold voice. “Care to explain?”

Harp glared over at False Cap before speaking her mind. “While your own deputy was ordering others to wet his dick, you had raiders sneaking into town and pony napping the ponies you are supposed to protect. Frankly, we did your damn job for you.”

Placing the gun barrel under Harp’s chin, Ashy looked over at False Cap. I could see the blood from False’s face drain. She shifted his eyes over to Stopped, who simply ignored her.

“I will be making an example out of him in due time.” Ashy looked back at Harp. “But I do not tolerate ponies pointing guns at MY deputies. You stable ponies think you have it all figured out, that how you want to do things is the way we all should do things. Trust me, the wasteland will come knocking soon enough, and I’ll be there to bring justice onto your pretty little head. Even if the mayor has told me to drop it, I will bring justice one way or another.”

I could see that, even though Harp put up a brave face, she was scared. She was ever so slightly trembling.

The gun swung over to Star Charter, who cracked a smile at the sheriff.

“Why am I not surprised you're involved in this? You could never seem to keep yourself out of trouble. From the day you arrived to now, you never change.” Ashy sounded more annoyed with Star than angry, as though the sheriff had done this with Star far too many times.

Star rolled her eyes, also looking more annoyed, as though this was nothing new. “Maybe you should stop getting into everyone's business and relax for a change. Go take a damned vacation for once in your life. I heard Fillydelphia is looking a lot better now.”

A hard smash from Chekhov's Promise slammed into Star's stomach, knocking the wind out of my friend.

“Stopped was right. You will never change.” Ashy snarled.

She then eyed Hardballer. She trot up to the old griffin. “And you, finally showing your true colors. What do you even have to say for yourself, slaver?!”

Hardballer just looked bored with all this. He took his time to answer as he brushed off some dust from his body. “Now, Sheriff Ashy Oaks, how many times must we do this dance until you realize that things have changed? Redeye is dead, I’m not a slaver, and all your rash actions are why the NCR have been acting like such a pain in the ass for this town. I have an official merchant permanent and the Desperados are not considered raiders by the NCR. If you keep this up, you will be inviting more legal trouble than Mayor Espresso will be forced to deal with.”

He slowly pushed the gun away from pointing at his face before continuing. “Why don’t we just bury the hatchet and move on with our lives? We both know that Spotwelled can only do so much with the guns you need, and what Blue Skies sells is anything but quality. Just let me help you help this town. You know that we can arm your deputies far better than anypony else in this region.”

Ashy narrowed her vision at Hardballer. “Like I would ever accept guns made with talons as blood-drenched as yours.”

“And how clean are your hooves, Ashy?” Hardballer responded. He also narrowed his eyes back at her.

Turning from him, Ashy trotted back to her deputies. “Say what you will, but you all are coming with me for crimes against New Appleoosa.”

Hardballer sighed. “Ashy, I am a very busy griffin, and this is getting ridiculous. If you have a problem with us selling to ganggers then…”

Stopped Clock cut him off, saying, “Raiders, Mister Hardballer.”

“Their gangers, Mister Stopped Clock.” Hardballer quickly corrected, looking quite annoyed with the older stallion.

“Call them what you will, but that doesn't change what they are. Same as it does not change what you are,” Stopped said coldly.

Hardballer raised one talon at Stopped, forming a rude gesture we ponies could never do. “And what does that make you?”

“ENOUGH!” Ashy shouted. “Arrest them, and drag them to the jail.”

“And the vehicle?” False asked. “It is full of evidence of their misdeeds. Surely we can't keep it here?”

Hardballer glared at the portly pony. “If I even find one cap missing, I will be carving it out of that hide of yours.”

A chuckle came from False Cap. “You should be more worried about that compound of yours. I mean, we can’t just leave the rest of you criminals off the hook now. Ain't that right, Deputy Stopped Clock?”

Stopped nodded. “Aiding and abetting at least, along with everything inside considered as evidence.”

I watched as Hardballer clawed the ground, putting in deep grooves into the dirt. “You take even one hoofstep…”

“Or what, slaver?!” Stopped Clock snarled threateningly. “Make one more threat and I will see to it that you go to the gallows.”

“Ya. It will be quite the show,” False said with a smile. “But don’t worry about your family. We will make sure they are well cared for in jail. Though that cute daughter of your ... I’ll make sure she is well treated.”

“Keep talking!” Hardballer took several steps towards, his rage clearly boiling over now.

Ashy fired Chekhov's Promise at the ground where Hardballer now stood. “One more outburst and I will end you here.”

This calmed Hardballer down as he glared at Ashy. “If any of my kids, grandkids, or apprentices are harmed in any way, be sure this will be the last mistake you will ever make.”

“Ashy does not make mistakes,” Stopped Clock assured as he trotted over, levitating a pair of hoof cuffs.

“Well, other than letting you in town, but that's more the fault of the mayor,” False said, as he too trotted over.

With a click, Hardballer was cuffed. His front, back, and wings were all held together by the steel cuffs.

Hardballer winced in pain as Stopped tightened the cuffs further. “Finally the crimes you committed will finally be given justice.” Ashy said with a laugh.

A little laugh came from Hardballer. “And what about your crimes? Don’t think I never heard of what you all did back in Fillydelphia. The slavers loved to send the more rebellious slaves to your pen and take a bet on how long before they were killed by you.” The old griffin addressed Ashy with a growl. “How many was it, Hanged Mare? How many fellow slaves did you kill?”

Ashy stomped over to Hardballer, getting muzzle to break. “Raiders and criminals all. They deserved the noose. None of them were innocent!”

“Stop making excuses. At least I have the dignity to admit I was wrong.” Hardballer took a deep breath and calmly looked Ashy in the eyes. “You need to stop this. It’s not going to bring any of them back alive. Just enjoy what you have now before it comes crashing down around you.”

“Tall words,” Ashy said, seemingly calming down herself.

“From the griffin who worked ponies to death to make guns for raiders!” Stopped Clock spoke up behind Ashy.

“Let’s not forget those guns used by the bounty hunters that tracked down escaped slaves were all made by your own claws!” False Cap added.

“The same guns used to attack all of our towns!” Stopped huffed.

False pointed his hoof at Hardballer. “The guns used to enslave and kill our loved ones.”

“He and his family made the bullets for Redeye,” again Stopped added.

“How many would be alive if he was not!” False goaded.

A growl came from Ashy. “Will you two shut the fuck…”

*BANG*

Hardballer took a few steps back. A trail of blood hit the ground, dripping from his chest. He stumbled and then fell over.

“NO!” Star screamed, but as soon as she began to dash over, several of the deputies grabbed her and held her down. “WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!” she screamed again. One of the deputies took his gun and slammed it at the back of her head.

Star fell silent as her body went limp.

I took a step forward, but found a few other deputies blocking my path. They had cuffs ready for me. I watched as Hardballer clenched his chest. The light from his eyes faded. One last gasp escaped his beak. I knew that, then and there, he was dead.

A well of emotions hit me; anger, sadness, shock, and confusion. But one emotion felt like a dagger to my soul; hatred!

“SO THIS IS YOUR JUSTICE?!” I shouted at Ashy. “Executing an unarmed and restrained griffin?! There is a word for that from my time; murder! You’re nothing more than a murder.”

She turned to me, pointing Chekhov's Promise at my face. Shock and panic was on her face.

I just looked down the barrel of my gun. A wave of calm came over me. “Go ahead and shoot me. I know you already have an excuse. It's not like I should have died long ago.”

She just stared at me, gun at my face.

“DO IT!” I shouted.

*Click*

Chekhov's Promise misfired again, so threw the gun at me. It impacted against my chest before landing in the dirt.

“I’m fucking done. Take them away. I don’t care where!” Ashy shouted as she turned around and began trotting back to town.

I pushed against the deputies around me, but they had me in place. “So that's it. This is how you make the world better, through murder. You're no different from…” I felt a sudden slam to the back of my head. Everything went fuzzy.

_______________________________________________________

-Level up-

-Slowtrot-

Lv,6

Small gun is now at: 30

Medical is now at: 55

Repair is now at: 55

(New Perk) Toughness- Slowtrot has been knocked around by the wasteland quite a bit. Shot, too. Be it thicker skin or simply learning to live with it, his ability to keep standing when the hits start coming has improved noticeably.

-Harp Melody-

Lv,6

Small gun is now at: 25

Science is now at: 69

(New Perk) Empathy- Harp has grown to understand the ponies in the wasteland and knows how she must talk to them to get a favorable or negative response from them.

-Star Charter-

Lv,6

Small gun is now at: 60

Melee weapons is now at: 57

(New Perk) Pathfinder- Star’s intuition leads her in the right direction, even if it is down a twisting path. She will commonly find shortcuts when traveling or avoid going down the wrong path. All through intuition alone.