Fallout Equestria: War Bird

Chapters

Chapter 1: Welcome to New Pegasus
Chapter 2: Into the Blackest Reaches
Chapter 3: A Light Shining in the Darkness
Chapter 4: Two Birds with One Stone
Chapter 5: Long Night of Silence
Chapter 6: Post-Apocalyptic Fireworks
Chapter 7: A Sandy Path of Benefits
Chapter 8: Echoes in the Mountains
Chapter 9: Friends Old, New, and Unexpected
Chapter 10: Nest of Concrete, Avian of Steel
Chapter 11: A Bunker Without Equal
Chapter 12: Explorations Put On Hold

Chapter 1: Welcome to New Pegasus

The late evening sun shined brightly down upon the golden orange sands of the the San-Palomino Desert, an empty abyss of tan stretching out endlessly through the irradiated Wasteland. The heavy metallic clanking and thumping of my power armor echoed through the empty desert around me as I made my way along the old E-15 heading towards what used to be Las Pegasus. Or New Pegasus as I heard it being referred to in recent decades by the poor saps having to be born into this hell hole. Endless sand surrounding the narrow strip of broken and decaying asphalt on all sides for as far as the eye could see...the same boring, dull experience as the last hundred miles had been. In times as chaotic and depraved as ours, if there was one certainty that one could always rely on, it was the simple truth that the desert just fucking sucks. One mile a hundred when the sun was right overhead like a damned Overseer coming down to flay your skin red and raw with its ‘benevolent’ light.

It had been years since I had been out this way; leaving my old roost in the far South about fifty years ago to go join up with the fractured and relatively hostile remnants of the Steel Rangers. At one time they were the Pre-War superheroes of the trenches, plains and mountains alike. The legends of their deeds during the Zebra-Equestrian War, true and untrue, were relatively common knowledge on the outside it seemed. You couldn’t go anywhere in abandoned necropolises without seeing dozens of Steel Ranger emblazoned government propaganda posters on the crumbling building walls. After all...in the shithole we call the present, the only comforting direction for anyone to look towards was backwards. I wondered if ponies really believed what was depicted in the posters and billboards of the old world. The Steel Rangers of today certainly seemed to in their own twisted way...

Bunch of stuck up, borderline eugenically asshats is what they had become; more worried about stealing every lick of tech they could find to better their army. If petty theft wasn’t enough to tarnish their legendary image, then there was their utter disdain towards anyone who wasn't a member in their Order. I hated the gaudy speeches of, 'We're here to save the Wastes and protect its inhabitants!’ only then to turn around and burn a settlement to the ground. All because the town merchant wouldn't give you his energy weapon of which he was considered to be unworthy to own. It went without saying that I didn’t recognize the Corps I had left behind when that god awful cog door #39 rolled shut.

That’s really the reason I had decided in the end to leave that bastardized tech cult in the East and make my way back to my old stomping grounds on the Westcoast. New Pegasus offered endless possibilities for making decent caps if the traveling merchants I had met on the way were to be at all believed. Who knew? I could maybe see about signing onto a merc crew in need of some good feathered muscle. On second thought...nah. They could shove it too. Their money wasn’t gonna be worth helping them peddle drugs to the locals or killing off other drug bosses just so I can have their cronies on my tail. And, knowing the Stirrup in general, I’d probably be sent to kill some poor sap that couldn’t pay back a debt because the casino sucked every cap outta his last paycheck. I suppose that was another certainty to be found in New Pegasus...the people in charge might change but the casinos are always happy to milk your wallet dry. Ponies, Griffins, Dragons; hell anyone with half a brain still in their fucking skull love to think they’re above being dairy producers like the Brahmin we all like to heard and milk. Heh...I guess anyone can be a sucker if you dazzle them with enough flashing lights, heavy liquor and a cute ass or two. Don’t matter which gender but that was a definite requirement. The world’s already ended so who was to say which ass got the shaft? Long as it's good...who really cares right?

After about another ten minutes of pondering on what I was actually going to do, the open road finally started to give way to the crumbling remains of countless rows of buildings that stood outside the gates of New Pegasus. The bright neon sign that was cobbled out of the old Pre-War welcome sign and some other scrounge up neon letters shone brightly overhead while a few heads and a pair of rifle barrels peeked out over the top. The guard had been doubled since the last time I had visited...but, it was nice to know I could at least relax a bit from the overexposure of traveling alone on the open road. After all, the San Palomino area was known for its constantly rotating rogues gallery of drugged out Raider gangs terrorizing the local scrub farmers just trying to grow something in all this sandy bullshit. No matter how scary each might be, each inevitably was destroyed or ran outta town by one or more of the infamous west coast bounty hunters or merc groups that abounded the area. There was good money to be had out west if you had the gear and no regard for small scale skirmishes or massive cullings on a regular basis.

“Welcome to New Pegasus huh?” I muttered to myself as I passed under the more than ironic sign. “Last time I was here, some drunk gambler tried to get frisky with me. Yeah, very welcoming..."

Up ahead was the half impoverished, half decent enough settlement that formed a massive ring around the Stirrup called Freeside. Formed from the bombed out husk of the Las Pegasus suburbs, the living conditions varied from rubble and tents all the way up to decent apartment buildings the closer to the Stirrup you got. Living closer to the relative safety that was the high walls surrounding the Stirrup itself came at a cost though and that income has to come from somewhere. People with at least half a conscience turned to trade, manual labor and mercenary work while the not so conscience-driven found themselves a gun and got what they wanted from there. Freeside was like a cat...perpetually bouncing between calm and civilized and on the brink of absolute chaos. At the very least...it had been some time since I had been in an urban combat scenario so a fight would not be unwelcome.

God the place reeked even through my helmets’ filters. Hanging subtly on every breath was the stench of booze, puke, piss and trash like the toxic gasses of the War. I guess the locals still didn't mind even fifty years later as they seemed content with just sitting around outside in the open under the sun. Civilization hasn’t changed one bit as far as the poor were concerned. Everywhere I looked were figures sitting or standing amidst the rubble of Las Pegasus’ past, the black smoke of trash can fires mixing with the hazy golden mist of the local street favorite pastime. Red Berryl...guaranteed to make the world around you turn just a bit more friendly looking and life worth living for those who had nothing else.

As I trotted briskly towards the large neon signs denoting the gate to the Stirrup proper, I could hear the distant ring of gunshots on the next block over, barely four or five buildings down the street. Three crisp cracks like a whip echoing between the brick buildings followed by the miserable howling of the poor stallion on the receiving end. Ering on the side of not my problem, I chose not to investigate the shots and instead stopped my way through the pony-sized doorway to what looked like a decent enough hotel. After a long two day journey by paw, even a pile of hay would work for me. The interior was actually far nicer than the exterior let on with a stage off to side and a few scantily clad mares dancing their goods off in front of a crowd of rowdy, drunken males all hollering and cat calling loudly enough to drown out the girl’s music. Heh...it was safe to assume that this hotel provided a bit more than your basic room service, not an uncommon occurrence out here. Would be interesting having it so readily available again…

Turning my eyes from the dancers I went over to the bar. The bartender was surprisingly a female, a good looking creamy orange colored Unicorn wearing a simple beige skirt and blouse with a small name tag I couldn’t read from afar, even with my four-or-five-foot height advantage. Easily glancing over her head I could tell they were gonna need a few kegs more at the rate the crowd behind me was chugging it down. Drunks had definitely gotten worse it felt...words turned to violence a hell of a lot faster now and revolvers weren’t the only thing with hair triggers.

"Well, well, well! Not often Ah get tah see one of yew Iron Giants in mah establishment. ‘Specially ah big ol’ Griffin one at that." The mare purred in a very sultry southern accent, batting her big yellow eyes at me though there was a slight trepidation at the sight of my armor. “Welcome to The SugarApple doll, name’s Rose Lead if ya can’t see mah tag here! What can ah get ya darlin’? Or maybe ya lookin’ for some of our here fine n’ dandy gals?’

“Not lookin for love ma'am, only a room for the night.'' I replied through the headset lining the inside of my helmet, my voice coming through slightly tinny and monotone.

“Mmmm you sure hun? Hmmm...well Ah guess Ah can oblige then. Rooms are thirty caps for th’ night hun, all in advance. Ah’m sure ya understand. Come by on th’ regular tho’ an Ah can take ya at yer word then.”

I nodded in silent acknowledgement and reached towards my waist for the large repurposed leather saddle bags to pull out my hefty sack of caps before setting it on the counter with a soft clatter. Thirty caps was hella cheap compared to most inns on the East side. If the innkeeper charged you fifty caps, you were getting the absolute bottom of the barrel cumstain rustbucket shithole of a room. Anything even remotely passing for decent accommodations would cost ya a hefty two-hundred, three to four hundred for a place with a working toilet and/or bathtub. Then again the thriving local economy of the New Pegasus area easily dwarfed the skimpy GDP of anything East of Canterlot. Hmph...what a fucking racket…

“You guys are cheaper out here compared to places like Manehattan.” I commented as I counted out and paid thirty caps plus an extra ten for her troubles. “Thirty caps is a halfway decent meal back East.”

“Oh Ah believe it! Those poor souls ova there don’ see ah solid income. Th’ Wasteland might be fulla shit but if New Pegasus ain’t th’ most profitable locale to set up shop well...then Ah’ll eat mah own tail!” She smiled and walked over to a rack stashed inside a worn down cabinet and grabbed a key, sliding it across the counter towards me. “Room 2A hun. And if yer eva feelin’ lonely tonight, yew know where tah find meh! Enjoy ya stay wit’ us here at th’ SugarApple!”

I gave her a curt nod and set off down a hallway beside the counter, the threadbare and dust soaked carpet doing little to cushion the sound of my armor as I walked. It was odd being in a building, a hotel even, that was so intact and domesticated when most of Equestria looked more or less like the outer edges of Freeside. Curtains, moth eaten and limp with age, still hung over the window at the far end of the hall and sunlight peeked through casting beams of light through the haze of dust being kicked up by the weight of my steps. The numbering system for the hotel seemed a bit fucky to me as by the time I reached room 2A, I was nearly at the end of the goddamn hallway. Either way, the first thing I noticed was that my room was, once upon a time, painted in a dark red wine color matching the sheets on the sadly pony-sized four poster bed. My legs weren’t gonna be resting so easy tonight but it beat the everloving shit outta sleeping out in the open again. Roughing it was in my blood but that never meant I wanted to do it as a profession, let alone a lifestyle. Still...with Equestria as it was, roughing it is relative.

With barely a thought the back of my power armor popped and hissed open like a pneumatic door allowing me to step out and set my paws back on the ground for the first time in...I couldn’t even remember the last time I had the chance. A moment or two after leaving its steely confines, each of the hinged sections of armor hissed closed behind me; a perfect seal against the outside air forming inside. Equestria might have started the War that made the world go to hell but they damn well knew how to build shit to last. With slight hesitation, I looked over at my bed and internally asked myself if I dared sleep on a bed in what was most definitely a brothel. It only took a moment though for the comforting allure of a mattress in a (more or less) secure area to cut my anxieties about cum stains on the sheets to pieces. Since the room thankfully came with a modestly large table, I decided to take the opportunity to open one of the large Kevyarn bags riveted to my armor and pull out some lunch. It wasn’t a feast but a lukewarm Sparkle Cola and a Rice N’ Beans MRE were better than gnawing on Radroach meat like a fucking animal. Life in the Army taught you how to not give a damn about what fuel you put in the tank as long as it kept ya going. Sure they might have been talking about surviving in the wild but...I didn’t think the ruins outside my window were exactly what they had in mind during those survival courses. I mean...of course they had to do some training for surviving Megaspell/Balefire strikes but they had all been woefully whimsical. No one can really prepare for the real thing and survive it...well, that was a different beast altogether. There’s just no fucking accounting for the effects of the Taint Breech and the full might of a global fuck-up like the Great War. You honestly expect me to believe that old Writey McFuckFace when he was writing the EAF Combat and Survival Guide could have possibly hoped to account for shit like Hellhounds, Radwasps, Chimeras and all the other mutated bullshit lurking in the faroff future? Hell the fuck no...I should know. I liked to re-read my copy left over from bootcamp every now and again.

After stuffing the contents of the MRE rather messily down my beak and finishing off my lovely warm Sparkle Cola, I sat back onto my creaking bed and sighed.The two-week journey to reach New Pegasus had been longer than I remembered; then again I wasn’t walking all the way from Manehattan the last time I was here. The ruins seemed to be a bit more cleaned up than I remembered though. Less piles of rubble and some of the crumbliest places seemed to have been knocked down for spare bricks. There was still a lot of old world shit to be found out there, even two hundred something odd years later as long as you knew where to look and/or had the skills to obtain it. The best places were of course former military complexes which thankfully dotted the Equestrian Wasteland like seeds scattered over an empty field on the wind. Old guns, spare parts, high grade ammunition, sometimes even a derelict suit of T-45 if you were lucky but the true costs of time meant you had to dig deep to find stuff worth looting these days. Surface level, easy to reach places had been picked clean several times over in two centuries worth of the same kind of desperate survivors that call the Post-War era their hellhole away from home. Diving deep into the bowels of the old world meant radiation, mutated beasts and Feral Ghouls. Lots and lots of Feral Ghouls…

Lazily laying back against the pillowed headboard, I brought my left arm to my face and rested it on the edge of my beak so I could fuck around with my PipBuck. Despite having the tools to take it off myself, only a fool would leave his PipBuck off his leg for any longer than he or she had to. The Steel Rangers had definitely gotten the better portion of the war budget as we were the only Corps to have received the 3000s as standard-issue personal computing units while every other poor sap was stuck with the smaller or bulkier 2000 and 1000 models or none at all. Optimized for claws rather than hooves, the button interface was smaller allowing for a larger screen to display all the info on yourself you’d ever wanna know. Much as I was dying to know the contents of my saddlebags, I was much more concerned with my map system and what it had to say about the area around me now that I had a chance to look extensively. How the damned things’ auto-mapping function worked was absolutely beyond me but thankfully I never had to explain it to someone else before.

The orange colored display showed a very detailed map of New Pegasus extrapolated from the auto-mapper as well as a private uplink to one of the few orbiting Geographical Identification and Mapping Program satellites still running. GIMP, despite the hilarious name, was as good as having an Eye in the Sky with a semi-live camera feed. As long as it was outdoors, I could see almost everything with live updates every thirty minutes. While the orange display left a lot to be desired when it came to the finer details larger LED screens used by intelligence operatives back at HQ had, I could still glean a lot just by looking over the lay of the land. Zooming out onto the larger area, I was once again struck at the oasis-like look of New Pegasus sitting alone in an expansive desert with black and ruined edges slowly forming into standing buildings with a bright and shiny core. Anything in a thirty-mile radius was going to be bone dry pickings...that was...except for the nearby crater which had contributed to the overall fucking up of the region.

The only place to my knowledge that was still relatively stocked with potential loot worth my while in the area was old Camp Macintosh about twenty miles south of here. As the H.Q of the old Desert Ranger Corps, it was a massive military base that had covered several hundred acres with barracks, armories, research labs and who knew what else. The Zebs had detonated a Balefire Bomb over the site leaving the bulk of the main complex a massive crater. Rumor had it though that the bomb had exposed a massive underground facility built directly beneath the Camp, accessible only to the absolutely insane. If the rumors were true then I might have already stumbled across my first task in my new home. I decided after I slept for a long ass while and ate something filling in the morning, I'd set out to see if the old place still had supplies. Who knew? Maybe with a couple handfuls of Rad-X and the lead-tungsten lining of my power armor I might be able to spend some decent time there exploring around and even come across a neat find. I certainly wouldn’t mind finding one of those Ironshod Firearms BFRs, or Big Fucking Revolver as they were nicknamed. The Desert Rangers had adopted it as the firearm presented to those who had achieved their internal rank of Veteran after serving and surviving at least five years in the Corps and it was a thing to behold. The .45-70 Celestia rounds were a tad smaller than the .454s in my old service revolver but this far out West, I was sure to find a decent amount of the stuff lying around the region that produced it.

Looking over the remains of the Camp, there was certainly merit to the rumors as something ponymade poked out here and there down the crater walls. Something the rumors had failed to mention was the worrying number of red ticks the EFS system had placed around the map like it had thrown a handful of darts. There was only so far I could zoom in with the picture feed but the blobs marked as unfriendlies were big, hunched over and cast large shadows visible even in the blackened earth. Fuckin’ wonderful...the home of the NadPads was now the home of Hellhounds...it was like exchanging a jerk for a total asshole. If there was an underground complex there, that would explain the Hellhounds as they loved them some prebuilt ‘caves’ for them to nest in. And by that metric the presence of the Hellhounds substantiated the rumors of the complex to warrant a serious look at the area. All in all, I knew what I was doing in the morning for damned sure.

With another heavy sigh I stretched a wing across the room and lazily shut the moth-eaten curtains over the late afternoon sun pouring in from outside. The sounds of life in Freeside wafted in through the broken window with a strangely comforting murmur. Were it not for the occasional gunshot, angry shout or rambling chemhead wandering past my window, I might have almost mistook it for civilization. Background noise was at once both comforting and unnerving as it took effort to listen for possible attack. With some effort, I finally managed to put away my curiosity about the morrow and wind myself down enough to slip into a restful slumber.

Author's Note

If you got this far id like to thank you for reading so far. I have some more chapters in the works and will post them as their finalised. Id also like to thank my Co-writer and Editor SynthetaCrete for all her help so far

Chapter 2: Into the Blackest Reaches

The next morning came barreling in all too soon and hit me hard, the sun shining through the damn window and blinding me as I groggily came to. Dreams, whenever I had them, were often so muted and bland that they weren’t worth remembering. Sleep wasn’t quite the refuge from reality that it used to be but even my hard ass couldn’t say no to it after a long day walking the Wastes. The lack of any notably loud pops in my skeleton as I got to my paws was notable as most pony-sized beds left my neck in knots and my lower back in convoluted twists in the worst of places. Breakfast was out and waiting for me from the night before, a Triple-A sized MRE of spaghetti and meatballs and another lukewarm SparkleCola. Even in the desert, just being out of the sun was just enough to get by and a hot meal was usually welcome. However...what I wouldn’t fucking give to get my claws on an ice-cold Cola… Talon only knew how long it had been since my last experience having one. The flavor hits you just right in the back of the beak...and if you close your eyes hard enough it almost feels like a piece of home.

While the gallon sized bag of spaghetti warmed up with its nifty little chemical furnace, I flicked the cap off the bottle of cola with a talon and swilled a third of the bottle into my spacious beak. Taking small sips as I went, I spent the cooking time by slipping on the wide-bodied plate carrier I had scavenged early after leaving the Stable over the basic tan shirt I wore. If there was one benefit that came from Equestria non-violently allying with the Greifenländer, it would have to be the wider selection of armors for Griffins that came about as a result. That being said though, the majority of shit out there was sized for the smaller Continental Griffins that were in primary contact with Equestria.This left those of us with some Inland Gryph DNA running strong in our blood with an only marginally wider selection to choose from. At seven foot two, I was in a weird limbo between the two major species of lion-birds which made sizing even harder since Equestria had managed the production of Shoreline armor platforms so local manufacturing could turn its attention to the production of firearms. Meanwhile, the Kaisar government had handled the manufacturing of special materiel packages for the heavy fireteams made up of purely Inland Gryphons that were as infrequent as they were brutal in the field. For myself and my fellow unlucky bastards who had a little of both in them...we had scraps.

It had been...an experience coming across the dead fuck who had originally worn the carrier I wore now. So many years of seeing death by old age rather than by violent means had made the memories of the shitwalk that was the War prior not so harsh on the mind. Seeing the poor feathered bastard missing a head from it being eaten off by one of the many Ghouls of the Badlands...the far past had come back into focus reminding me that life on the outside was just as brutal and violent as it had been when I had first left it. In the time since, the carrier had carried me through one naked engagement after another when I had the misfortune of being out of my Power Armor. While the original inserts had been a plain BR-500 steel plate, I had been fortunate enough to happen upon the untouched last stand of some nameless Master Sergeant in the General Army that had died from Rads leaving behind a pristine set of prime Celestium plates. With a bit of work from a welding tool, an industrial saw and remembering my basics from shop class, I had managed to comfortably incorporate the Celestium plates into the center mass of the front and back carriers while using the spare steel for some optional shoulder pieces that could be hung from the shoulder straps.

Checking on the spaghetti for the third time and swigging the next third of the bottle, I had enough time to fuck around with the tactical rig I had buckled, reveted and Velcroed onto the carrier and down my hindlegs. When it came to accessories, as long as you had Velcro or open space for strapping, it was one-size-fits-all allowing me a degree of customization that felt almost sinful. Mag pouches and holsters came in all matter of sizes, configurations and levels of quality with the best ones naturally coming from some sort of military source. Even then there were still even more levels of quality to be found when poking about the bodies of deceased soldiers. Nylon and canvas were sufficient but wore down too quickly for one living a dangerous, gun-friendly life. The real prize were the Kevyarn and Falco polymer plastics shit that had seemingly endless lifespans in the field and were what made up the bulk of my rig. Even separated from my armor, I was armed to the beak with enough lead soup to boil the brains of a least fifty dumbasses who felt it smart to fuck around with a pile of muscle and feathers.

Without even noticing my morning hunger said fuck it to more waiting and was already stuffing my face with warm-ish spaghetti. What I was really in the mood for was something big and meaty but being amongst a predominantly pony population, it was a bit uncommon finding a butcher of any repute. While the meatballs of the carnivore edition MRE lightly scratched the urge for meat, I would need to look soon for something larger and pray ponies out West liked their meat a bit more often than those Eastward. Even a gallon of the military’s finest preserved cuisine was only barely enough to feel somewhat content in the stomach department and with the journey ahead, nothing made the road longer than walking it on an empty stomach. Since I was uncertain if I could come across more MREs out here, I was forced to resort to the step down that was canned meat and government issued bread. A poor mare’s breakfast of yesteryear but it beat the irradiated slop the poor of the present had to endure. Like I had to tell some ponies in the past...just because I could eat Radroach or Dartling meat didn’t mean I wanted to. Bugs were still just fucking that, bugs. If I was gonna sink my beak into something dead, a basic starting point would be if it has fuckin red blood or not?

Finishing the last of the Cola and tossing the empty bottle into the trash can in the room along with the rest of my garbage, I finished loading my revolver and put it in my external holster. As old as my Power Armor itself, the Big Iron on my hip was the FillyArms Castle Dragoon, a Griffin-sized hand cannon chambered in the exceptional .454 Castle round. The Steel Ranger Corps, really just a mechanized armored infantry branch of the General Army, had once upon a time run off the same hierarchy of ranks as the GA rather than having a fancy internal system of rank like the Desert Rangers. Couldn’t even join the Light Brigade with their semi-powered T-35s unless you were at least a Corporal and had proven to be a life worth investing better hardware into. Having graduated as a Leutnate from a Kaisarlands military academy prior to us being dragged into the War, my rank was transferred into the Equestrian Armed Forces as a Second Lieutenant rather easily. As the cherry on top, I had been preselected for placement in the Heavy Brigade with the bulky but serviceable T-45 model of Power Armor. Few years of tearing ass and leading Rangers into battle later and I had gotten my claws on the venerable ‘double butter sticks’ as the Captains’ rank pins were once called.

Any Ranger that lived long enough to see at least two promotions were inducted into the Lion’s Pride, the Veterans of combat with the Zebs taken from the name of one of the toughest species in their lands. At that point, taking a page from the book of the Desert Rangers, every Lion was presented with a custom built magical energy pistol as a graduation present. Being a Steel Ranger, naturally I had extensive experience using those fancy ass atomizer whatnots but had never grown a fondness for them like so many others had. Despite the relative drop in power, I had opted for one of the limited-issue FillyArms Dragoons made as part of a joint Equestrian\Greifenländer arms project meant to stimulate the economy or some shit that no longer mattered. She was a lovely, sturdy gun cast from solid pieces of Celestium Steel in the Old Kingdom while the final assembly, blackening and engraving was done in Equestria at FillyArms main production facility in Appleloosa. Considered a throwback of sorts to an older era of Equestria’s experimentation with firearms, the design had called to me ever since I had first laid eyes on it while thumbing through gun magazines while on leave. With a swivel-action cylinder that could be interchanged with one in .45-70 Celestia which was more abundant than the more powerful .454, the Castle Dragoon fired just as smoothly as it had on first test-firing it so many years ago. With the bravado of military life egging me on and no one to stop me, I had gotten inscribed on the length of either side of the barrel the phrase, ‘For Those Who Stand Against Me, I Dub Thee Unforgiven’. And thus was born her name, the Unforgiven. My trusty multipurpose problem solver, best friend and occasional Post-War ATM card.

All set to go underneath, it was high time to be back in steel and the comforting safety it provided. Of the original T-51d armored plating I had been issued upon becoming a Captain (my ceremonial second promotion since initiation), the only remaining piece forming my current hybridized armor was my helmet, but even that was kinda pushing it. Great as the T-51 series had been, when I came across the use of a superior model used by the Paladins of the modern Steel Rangers...well, when we parted on bitter terms I couldn’t help but relieve a few of them of their armor. The T-60m, as it was designated in the classified records obtained in the secure facility wherein the cache was found, was as highly advanced as it was limited in number. The ‘m’ suffix denoted ‘multipurpose’, an all too apt description for the purely Celestium Steel armor platform on a fourth generation servo chassis. While the entire T-60 line was entirely designed to fit your typical mare or stallion, it certainly did not prevent me from at least salvaging the exterior armored plating and cobbling together parts until it fit my size. Regrettably there was no salvaging any of the fourth-gen motion servos for upgrading my original T-51 chassis as I just lacked the tech to adapt them to my much larger chassis. However, a decent trade off was the lighter armor plating compared to the heavier polyceramic and high-carbon steel stuff which allowed the old servos to do more than they used to.

As for my helmet...the only truly original thing left to it was the slightly stylized avian skull paint job that I had to touch up every decade or so. Once a Plague Bird, always a Plague Bird as the old motto in the barracks went after all. Other than the ancient motif of a long dead Steel Ranger Firesquad, the rest of the helmet was a Griffin type T-51d with some eh...personally added ‘aftermarket parts’. I had upgraded the optics package with the superior version installed in Veteran Desert Ranger helmets that allowed for far greater levels of magnification as well as a wide selection of vision filters for added fields of view. Crossing the hellscape that was the remains of the Southern Front, I had ample access to a few dozen old Vet helmets taken off either skeletal remains or the soon-to-be skeletal remains of a roaming Ghoul still wearing the armor. Another neat find was the highly sensitive long-range communications package from the T-37r, the then latest model of semi-powered infantry armor specifically designed for deep dive reconnaissance teams. It was thanks to this in particular that I had first regained connection with the GIMP satellite as only its antenna and internal processor were sufficiently strong enough to punch through the highly charged atmosphere and make semi-regular contact with the network. The addition of the radio was easy enough as there was thankfully a preexisting port for limited issue radio upgrades but, the eight-inch antenna sticking out of the large attachment on the right side of my helmet was obviously not an original part.

As the Suit sealed shut around me, the pneumatic seal hissed softly closed around my body followed by a message on my HUD that indicated my three-hundred minutes of EVA breathing was on immediate standby. A quick run-through of flexibility and power tests and we were cleared to head out as soon as I felt like it. With my PipBuck being attached to my arm inside the chassis, the armor docked directly with it and, through the fancy microfilament crystal tech lining the chassis, I could control my PipBuck remotely using only my thoughts. The HUD that backlit my visor lenses interfaced with the Eyes Forward Sparkle system displaying for me a wealth of info such as a compass with beacon trackers, the load on any weapons on my person, my relative state of health through the Medical Diagnostics System, a reactive Geiger counter for RadZones and a meter for S.A.T.S. The StableTec Assisted Targeting System was...well, there just ain't a way to badmouth something of such usefulness and brilliance. Magically amplified microdoses of adrenaline for precision shooting and safer reconnaissance? I was totally on board for any kind of kickass leg-ups on the yuppy fucks vying for my head. With barely a flick of my thoughts the HUD displayed the map I had been viewing the afternoon before.

" Hmm if I remember right there was a possible entry point around...here." I said, focusing my thoughts towards narrowing down the map view to the right area. “Hope to fuck there’s still some gear worth looting in that shithole... Let’s see what the GIMP has to say on those Hellhounds.”

The live-feed satellite still image was much crisper than the feed from my PipBuck had been earlier as now I had better lighting for the image as a whole and the updated optics system I had installed into the helmet provided a cleaner picture. There were at least a dozen or so Hellhound shaped mounds of pixels marked with a red tag across the expanse of the impact zone but, there was also an almost certain entry point three-quarters of the way down the crater wall. On the Southwestern side, a large black mass of pixels occupied space in what seemed to be a concrete wall of some sort, most likely a hallway or part of a smaller room. The destination was only roughly twenty miles south and the ambient radiation readings from GIMP were well within the tolerance range of the T-51’s radiological shielding. Aside from the big mutated murder dogs wielding big guns, this was going to be relatively easy. It was highly doubtful the Hellhounds had burrowed too deeply into what was likely the most secure military structure on the West coast meaning the deeper I went, the better shit I was likely to find. If it wasn’t big enough to fit their long-clawed paws, the Hellhounds just ignored it entirely; and with high-security doors usually being electrified against drilling, Hellhounds quickly learned they couldn’t claw their way into everything.

With the path locked into my E.F.S, I left my room and started down the hallway back towards the front door. As I came out into the main lobby, I glanced around the half bar/half stage theater for Rose. Noticing her behind the bar instead of the inns’ front desk, I came over and handed her a bag of three-hundred caps. I was going to be here awhile if Macintosh was worth a damn and the work out here was as good as I’d heard while on the road.

"Here's for the room. Three-hundred should be enough for another ten days should I need a place while I’m near New Pegasus itself." I said, holding up the key so she knew I still had and wanted it.

She smiled and, after a moment of chuckling at the bag in her sultry Southern tone, pushed the bag back towards me while shaking her head.

" You know what, handsome? Keep th’ room key fer now and Ah’ll make sure it's ahlways ready fer ya. Big ol’ birds like yew need ah place tah stay too don’t ya?"

I nodded, not entirely sure how to respond to the sudden gesture of generosity by a total, if good-looking, stranger.

“Well then, consider th’ SugarApple yer home while ya stay here darlin’.” She crooned, batting her well-rehearsed eyelashes at me. “Ah’ve always had a thang for th’ big, beefy type. Exotic meats be ah girl’s dream after all!”

Sweet Celestia’s soggy ass did this girl have few shits to give it seemed. Either the chicks out West were all this easy to get or Stable 39 had done more wonders to my sex appeal than I had thought…

“Well...um...thanks.” I managed to stammer out, the tinny sound of the mic hiding some of the fluster in my response. “I guess I can uh...use the money for something...else. Yeah.”

She exploded into giggles of delight and purred, “My, my...ah beefcake an’ ah flustered one at that! Gimmie ah ring if yer feelin’ frisky sugar. Ah’ll be waitin’!”

With that situation hastily dealt with, I left a still giggling Rose behind and headed out into Freeside. The early morning sun being out meant that the streets were rather alive with all types walking to and fro on their way to trade, head home, take a shit, whatever the fuck their personal lives had going on. Street vendors lined the large roadway leading right up to the entrance to the Stirrup, hawking their wares at any who came near and always on the lookout for someone who looked heavy on the caps. Being so blessed as to be among that group, those vendors who could get past the 7ft power Griffin look attempted to lure me in for all sorts of shit. Everyone from junk merchants, Chem dealers, and gun brokers to assorted meat shops and high-risk gambling loan stands claimed their share of the People’s Stirrup. Passing up on glancing through the meat stands for a tasty morsel, I turned left back towards the open desert and began to follow the beacon marker on my HUD.

"At least it ain't snowing. Fucking hated that shit out in Manehatten." I mumbled to myself as I walked onward, grateful as always to the environmentally controlled interior of my armor for keeping me at just the right temperature no matter the climate.

As a last minute stop before truly leaving Freeside, I ducked into the nearest bar to grab just a few more SparkleColas to fend off my damned Sparklediction. Entering the bar, the eyes of everyone inside naturally turned to gawk at the gigantic bird that had just wandered into pony-sized accommodations. The quality of armor and weaponry around me, despite the rather grungy establishment, heavily hinted that this place was a hotspot for Merc groups and maybe even affiliated with the Syndicate, the ‘legendary’ organization said to rule the world of the killing elite on the whole Westcoast. That would explain why the response to my entry was rather...unremarkable. Mercs and Bounty Hunters came in armors of all makes and models big and small and one of em getting ahold of some PoA wasn’t out of the question for some.

Didn’t take long to find the large chalkboard lit up by a smattering of old stage lights. It was a Bounty Board like any other I had seen except for being significantly larger and more detailed than any I had previously encountered. I wasn't even a few steps away from the board when I noticed it. My own fucking name was on a Bounty Board this far away from the Citadel?! The fucking chalky white marks spelling out the name stuck out in bold letters with all the contrast of blood in the snow. I should have fucking known the goddamned SR were already a step ahead of me in logistics despite my connection to GIMP. Bastards knew why I came this way and wanted to make sure every Bounty Hunter from Manehattan to New Pegasus knew my name and face. And as if there wasn’t already enough shit to process, there was already someone attached to my name. To the right of mine, the name Killer Queen was spelled out in yet more bold print and the price for my head was a whopping twenty-five thousand caps. I was all too popular with the wrong fucking people and that kind of money was nothing to shit on.

I had never heard of my current Hunter before. Sounded like some posh Royal type from before the Great War or some stage name for a music artist. It was a shit sandwich alright but...I couldn’t blame the Hunter really, at that price who wouldn’t take up the bounty? Awareness meter at a full fucking high, I decided that the three Colas in my bags would have to be enough for the journey and I booked it right back outa there. With my cover blown before I could even establish it, I needed to keep out of sight and reduce my visibility to the public which was like hiding a Buffalo in a fucking rainbucket. For every generous soul like Rose, there were a hundred others willing to slit your throat for a bottle of water or a half-used Chem. Bounty or no Bounty, my goal remained unchanged as it suited my needs perfectly by getting me out of town and into a RadZone. When it came to options for dropping my public visibility to minimal levels, there were few better. Long as I stayed there, the only ones who could follow me in would be Ghouls and the Steel Rangers themselves. Either way, both made for less scary targets than Hellhounds or Tarantula Radwasps.

God it felt like everyone seemed to be staring at me as I made my way through the poorest parts of Freeside in my attempt to reach the open deserts beyond. Guess the sight of a 7ft tall Gryphon made even bigger by a set of PoA was a damned rare sight out here. Merc group by the name of Talons who naturally hired many Griffs had a hoofhold in the region but I felt confident in assuming none of them had even a T-45 in their ranks. Out West, away from the heartlands of Steel Ranger production with StableTec and the Ministry of War, the armor of choice out here were the various models of general-purpose combat armor called by the brass M-CAP. I’d seen plenty of ArmTech’s extensive catalog of combat armor and was impressed to say the least with their effectiveness even if it paled in comparison to my T-51. Anyone who could afford it wore it and out West, they were decently plentiful for the right price. Hell, Camp Macintosh was supposedly the site of at least half of ArmTech’s entire production line and they carried a lot more Griffin-sized shit than you’d expect. Might even find something in my size.

The desert greeted me back with open arms as the last vestiges of New Pegasus gave way to the dunes. In the back of my mind I wondered if there was really a need to head on into was basically an irradiated shit hole filled with Ghouls, muties, and all sorts of disgusting creatures. If I ignored the very obvious fact that I was worryingly low on ammo for most things in my arsenal, I suppose there really wasn’t a point. To only rub my beak into the shitpile more, my M2 carbine used hard-to-find .30cal ammunition which could only really be found in former military bases. Not like the piece of shit was really even worth the ammo. I had been stuck with that fuckstick ever since I had lost my previous service rifle in an engagement with Raiders forcing me to commandeer one of theirs. Though the M2 was a decently fine rifle, the one I had nicked off that fucker’s body hadn’t gone by that description in probably a good decade. Bolt jammed like a motherfucker, mag release was always sticky and the stock had probably been used to play angry golf with a few heads somewhere along the line. Once I got back from my first round of plundering, New Pegasus was the perfect place to shop around for a new piece. Someone kept these Mercs and whatnot up to their ears in beautiful guns and I was gonna find out who and make damned sure I got in on the action.

Open desert travel was definitely nowhere near as visually engaging as wandering the much more densely packed Eastcoast. If you could ignore how fucked everything was, walking the cities and towns out there provided a decent amount to look at. Old factories, gutted townhomes, abandoned stripmalls...bits and pieces of the old world that told a small piece of the story of the area you were in. Billboards, discarded newspapers and magazines...lotta ways to get a feel for how the place was like before the Great War and have something interesting to focus your eyes on as you walked. Hell, at the very fucking least they gave ya points of reference for navigation when talking to people who didn’t have a PipBuck. Not the desert though...same old boring ass bullshit every mile you walk. Only a small population lived out here in the Pre-War days and I found myself asking why, of all the places in the world to live, did they choose a goddamn desert? Especially nowadays with the weather of the post-apocalypse unchanged from overcast with a chance of fuck you in over two-hundred years.

With a sigh, my HUD followed my intentions and brought up my personal playlist of music. The list was small, even smaller than the rather tiny discography of that DJPoN3 on the public radio frequency. In it were a few songs from the homeland and a selection of the rock-n-roll era of music that had come and gone all too soon in the world. While I would definitely kill to get my talons on some new music, so far I considered myself lucky. I had access to shit nobody else seemed to all thanks to illegally transcribing some of my old vinyls into the recesses of my PipBuck ages ago. Could definitely walk faster and more focused with a good guitar solo shredding away in my ears and I needed their help getting my tired ass back into the desert. That bed was prickling the back of my mind like a cactus...

* * * * * * * * * * * *

An old train station had been my latest landmark to walk towards and one that was finally not just another cactus or particularly big ass rock. About five-hundred yards out though I noticed the compass lining the top of my HUD lighting up with a few red ticks meaning I had a decent enough distraction ahead. Twenty miles wasn’t a tough march by any stretch but with probably only six hours of sleep in the tank and over fifty miles traveled the day before, I was regretting setting out so early. Probably would have woken up to that Rose chick sharing that comfy ass bed with me but...wasn’t like that would have been a bad thing.

To the business at hand, by the time I casually walked past the lone decrepit station I already had my revolver unclasped and ready to practice my quickdraw. First Raider came from the roof, barely a word shouted from his throat before a .454 blew it out and he tumbled to the dirt clutching what was left of his neck in his hooves. Kicking his already useless kitchen knife to the side, I finished the job with a casual second shot to the head while darting my eyes around the station for the other three markers on my E.F.S. Didn’t have to wait long though before Ugly Thing 1 and Uglier Thing 2 crashed somewhat in unison through the boarded up station windows on the platform that came up to my shoulders. Correction, used to be up to my shoulders until I gave the old wings a heavy flap launching me up and into the air, crashing down with the authority of Steel.

“A buckethead bird!” The male laughed inexplicably, his second-second hand Cloudsdale Typewriter way too puny to even scratch my paint job. “Why won’t you just roast up nicely!”

“Seriously…?” I sighed, glancing between the two of them with my revolver pointed in the air, half-cocked.

“The fuck ya mean, ‘seriously’?” The mare spat, revving the engine of her Tearer, the old delightful portable combat chainsaw.

They weren’t even a worthy distraction for fuck’s sake with perception checks like theirs. S.A.T.S came online like a dream, the small meter in the bottom right slowly depleting as the spell ran its course, and the ugly world around me came to a near standstill. Calculating hit probabilities based on dozens of factors from weapon type, recorded combat performances, windage/elevation and a bunch of other statistical data, S.A.T.S gave the user godlike control over how they chose to fight. The HUD overlay changed slightly, previously relevant displays shrinking into their respective corners while the main field of view highlighted each body in a semi-transparent orange. Flicking my eyes about between the various body parts, I had an average hit probability above eighty-five percent anywhere I aimed for. Never been one for statistics but even my big dumb bird brain could feel comfy with those odds.

Boom! Boom! Two shots fired within the blink of an eye and the uglies were down and out leaving the brown station walls and platform with a fresh coat of red in some places. Number 4 was taking their sweet time showing up so I was going to take my sweet time reloading leaving my ambient microphone near maximum. I’d hear him coming a mile away even if I stumbled and dropped the speedloader twice.

“Come on out dingus!” I called out, swinging the cylinder free of the frame in my talons and holding the weapon vertically so the spent rounds fell to the ground. “Can’t hide for long from someone with E.F.S ya know!”

I got my reply exactly from where I had predicted. In the light chaos of dealing with the other two, number 4 had snuck in from behind from somewhere else in the station. These fucks seemed to think I was wearing something from ArmsTech and could indeed be hurt by whatever peashooters they had managed to scrape from the bottom of some mangy barrel. In the spirit of cruel sportsmanship, I allowed him to swing his lead pipe as hard as he could against my back and watch as the damn thing bent like a reed around resolute Celestium hardware.

“Free shot over! Home court advantage!” I laughed as I turned and gave him a blow of my own, a servo-assisted knuckle duster right to the torso.

As he collapsed to the ground, heart and lungs punctured deep from an impacted ribcage, I finally felt more awake. I didn't care much for what they had on them as I started looting them all, finding a few loose rounds for 9mm and 20 gauge and just a single common healing potion. While I had hardly expected even a decent haul, my first experience with true Westcoast Raiders was a pretty underwhelming one. It was true that it had only been four of em holed up in some nondescript building in the desert but still. Until I had seen otherwise, the Eastcoast Raider gangs were more impressive to me.

Distraction over, a quick peek inside the station proved I was better off wasting my time walking. The remainder of the journey was uneventful until I began to see the outermost effects of the blast that took out Camp Macintosh heralded by a progressive blackening of the dirt and clumps of flash-fused glass from the sands. Most had forgotten the name of the base in recent decades with Post-War signs on the E-15 just calling the area the Crater as it was the most significant impact site near New Pegasus. Sure there were others dotting the country any direction on the compass you went, but New Pegasus and the San-Palomino were by far the least bombed out sectors of the Continent as far as GIMP maps were concerned. The ever faster clicking of the Gieger counter in my right ear was indication enough that I was walking right into a RadZone, right on schedule.

Standing on the rim of the circular depression in the earth spanning over a mile, my compass showed only my waypoint marker and now featured some more red blips. Now that these angry little bars were on my suit’s HUD, the danger of a pack of Hellhounds nearby made the distraction from earlier feel even more like a walk in the park. Nine mil and basic ass shotguns were like buzzing flies being nothing more than making annoying noises as they shattered against my armor. Hellhound claws though...those were a whole shitshow unto themselves and made my own talons seem like dull letter-openers. Be it the Taint or the Rads or a mix of the two plus more, Hellhound claws were finely sharpened enamel embedded with microscopic acid glands. Highly corrosive to every known material both organic and inorganic, even my T-60 pieces would only handle a couple of good swipes before taking significant damage. Pair of four long scars on my right side was evidence enough of that and had been the original reason I had to replace my T-51’s torso assembly not even a month outta the Stable.

Keeping my huge ass as covert as I could, I headed down the moment I could see a large break in their roaming patrol patterns. Sliding most of the way down the Crater's wall and taking only a few of the paths the Hounds had trampled down themselves, I made it to the waypoint marked on my map finding the large hole in a tunnel wall as I had guessed the night before. Gods it was hard to believe what had happened here. A whole fuckin’ military base, gone just like that leaving behind a cesspool of irradiated, nightmarish creatures. Nearby where I crouched, observing the rest of the Crater in the event I had been spotted heading down, I noticed some hoof prints in the black sand. Two sets to be more accurate. A smaller set, obviously belonging to a younger pony, and more adult-sized tracks both leading into and out of the tunnel entrance. A relatively new discarded can of corn and empty bottle of Cola tossed to the side of the entrance further confirmed that somepony had come through not too long before and made it out alive. Praise Talön, the insides were passable and survivable.

I entered the blown out tunnel and turned on my helmet's flashlight while I descended into the darkness that laid before me. Rubble laid everywhere for the first dozen or so feet of the tunnel in either direction I chose to go but the sight of fresh bullet holes in the walls at regular intervals to the left made me decide to go right. Sure, the path to the left was probably safer with those two crazy Ghouls having already come through there but that also meant the left was more than likely not worth combing over for sloppy seconds. Besides...half the joy of urban exploring was taking the path not taken before and accepting the risks that came with blazing trails in two-century old architecture.

Most of the rooms I passed were either already looted by Hellhounds or didn't have much shit in them that I needed, like piles of their literal shit. Finds like that made me eternally grateful I had purged my helmet’s air filters and washed them in RadAway only two-weeks prior part of my larger tune-up job I had undertaken while holed up in an old mechanic’s garage. The old Crystalline Fusion Core had been acting up more and more often since I had exchanged it for my last one that had run dry. The T-51 chassis were a huge step forward in energy management and reduced consumption over the 45s but two-centuries worth of time had not been all too kind to CFCs. Unless you found one in pristine condition holed up in some designated Pre-War storage locker/charger, any Core you came across was more than likely to be missing most of its charge. While the one I had forcibly recovered from Paladin North Star had originally registered as having ¾ of its lifespan remaining, it turned out it was a brand new one that had a micro-fracture in the housing. The heat leaking from the arcane reactor was manageable by the suit’s environmental controls but the slow loss of energy and fuel particles had taken their toll on the housing leaving me no choice but to toss it before I ended up with more Rads than my suit could handle.

Soon I came to a crossroads in the tunnel. The path in front of me and to my left had both collapsed in, leaving only a short hallway to my right that led to a large, solitary steel door. Going up to the door and seeing it in a better light revealed this was an important door by the size and markings on/around it. The faded yellow caution marks, dead lights humping the upper corners, striped red paint...all signs pointed to an electrified locking mechanism hiding something well worth breaking into. A terminal to the left side had a small orange light illuminating its power button and while it was a bit of a longshot that any of the codes I had would open the door, at least there was still enough power left to try.

“Aight bitch, reveal your secrets…” I grunted as I pushed the glowing button and was illuminated in the sickly green color of yet another StableTec interface.

Being so deep underground, I felt it was safe enough to step out of my armor for as long as it took to interface with the terminal from my PipBuck and run through my list of Pre-War executive command codes. The small black cable extended from its housing smoothly and plugged right into the terminal’s access port causing the ‘Enter Password’ prompt to be replaced with a message stating ‘External StableTec Device Detected’. From there my PipBuck lit up with lines of code as the two systems figured each other out and my device was allowed to connect with the mainframe. On a lark, I plugged in my own security code hoping a military complex such as this had my credentials on file which would save me a lot of time and hassle playing cat-and-mouse with potential lock-out from the system.

‘Welcome, Captain Garand.’’ Read the screen before graciously being replaced by a loading bar. It felt...surreal seeing my old rank staring back at me on an old military computer.

‘!!!ATTENTION!!! At 03:27 hrs 10/27/77, EDS sensors registered the detonation of one or more WMDs within the EDS network. A Tier-III Eclipse Event is assumed to have occurred. Pending all-clear from Hexagon or StableTec representatives, full lock-down procedures are in effect and all personnel are required to take battlestations.

Connection with Hexagon Servers - Offline

Connection with StableTec Servers - Offline

Connection with GIMP - Offline

Connection with EDS - Partial Systems Failure

Connection with EAF HQ - Unknown

All NCOs and Officers are required to report to their CO and await further instructions. We thank you for your patience in these troubled times.’

The sheer audacity of StableTec’s little customer service buzzword comfort fest following up news that the world had just got assfucked by Balefire was...just fucking awful. This wasn’t the first time they had a tone-deaf response to something like this and I doubted this was the last one I would have the displeasure of seeing. StableTec regardless, I was finding my security clearance was insufficient to override a full facility lock-down. Amongst the codes in my PipBuck were a few dozen other officers from various Corps and specialties that had all proven useful for getting into specific military outposts. That being said, like hell I had even a Brigadier General’s credentials in my collection let alone the Lieutenant General needed to override the lock-down. This was going to be a challenge to get into, no two ways about it but, that meant that whatever loot was to be had on the other side was going to be well worth the effort.

After a quick sneeze to clear my nostrils of centuries old dust, I decided to take a different approach. There was no way that the door led to something as secure as a mainframe or a fallout bunker which meant that if I could kill the power for the whole complex, the doors would retract automatically. It was supposed to prevent a lock-down from becoming an entombment when the air pumps shut down but it was also a weakness I could exploit. The only question was how much power was left in the fucking place and if I had a way of sucking it dry.

‘*Access Facility Maintenance Records*

Welcome, Captain Garand.

!!!ATTENTION!!! StableTec Geothermal Plant Fault! Emergency Power Only!

Environmental Controls - Offline
Subterranean Air Pumps - Emergency Power Only
Water and Sewage - Offline
StableTec Geotherm Plant - Unknown
Emergency Lock-Down - Engaged
StableTec Crystalline Fusion Reactor Gen III - Online’

Well, at least the main power was most definitely out. With emergencies seeming to be on their last legs, the easiest way to suck the system dry would be…

‘*Inact Local Door Override*

!!!WARNING!!! Insufficient Power

Access Denied - Insufficient Security Clearance’

“Ya think I don’t know that already ya piece of shit?” I growled under my breath as I repeatedly typed in the command hoping to trigger an alarm from too many attempts.

After the fifth attempt, I nearly jumped outta my feathers when a dying klaxon rang out from the speakers above the door followed by a feeble attempt to spin the angry red lights nearby. After ten seconds of plugging my ears against the noise, everything died at once leaving me in the dark with just my PipBuck’s orange glow for light. A moment later gravity assisted the upwards closing blast door in coming free of its now loosened bolts, revealing with a tail-curling screech of metal on metal the object of my desires. It only took a moment to climb back into my armor and turn my headlamp on to see my prize.

The room was rather larger than I had expected and the presence of cage-door cabinets and large wooden crates gave me ample evidence to assume I had the most welcome luck of stumbling across a minor armory. Taking out a flare, I lit the bright red sparkler for adults and tossed it onto a cabinet on the far side of the room giving the low-light optics upgrade more than enough light to illuminate the whole room with. Closer inspection of the room revealed however that it was...not nearly as well supplied as I expected a freshly cracked military cache to be. The armory was populated mostly by those same wide-mesh cabinets with the far wall of shelves caged off from the rest of the room. Most cabinets were clearly empty and what few weapon racks there were were all empty of guns.

While I was no lockpick, I was strong enough to curl my armored talons into the edge of locked doors and peel them open like soup cans. Most contained only a few tins of ammo or a few boxes of spare parts or magazines, all for 5.56 service rifles that I didn’t own. The M2 Carbine currently slung across my back took a rather unusual .30cal round that was increasingly rare as nobody seemed to have the specs for casting new ones. Even the basic service rifle used by your average Platoon grunt, a rifle that shared my namesake, used a .30cal cartridge too. That however, had the advantage of being both a highly successful and insanely mass-produced rifle seeing action on every Front and Campaign with slightly above average performance. Not only that but the fuckin .30-06 round was actually a well respected rifle cartridge for sustained burst fire and single-shot long range sniping. The comparatively puny .30 Carbine round was a civilian’s rifle. One that was only distributed in Manehattan. Needless to say finding rounds for it this far out West was just too stupid to even consider hoping for.

The spare mags were a decent enough find since they made hauling 1,200 rounds a lot easier to manage than stuffing them in a burlap sack and then into my saddlebags. The exterior of my armor was dotted with bolted-on magazine pouches and mag-strips that allowed me to carry both plastic mags and metal ones alike depending on my current loadout. Nothin’ standard-issue about most of my gear but surprisingly enough these external fixings were a holdover from the War itself. Since Griffins and Dragons alike could better fuck around with small and finnicky things like mags and stripper clips, our Powered Armor was equipped so that we could use a variety of rifles, shotguns and the like while suited up. Unlike ponies who preferred their PoA with built-in weaponry like tri-barreled miniguns and 40mm automatic grenade launchers.

Once the cabinets had delivered everything I found worth taking, I turned my attention to the cage protecting the shelves at the far side of the room. The padlock took no more than a swipe of my talons to tear off and skate across the room making a lot more noise than I had expected. Heart still pounding slightly from the noise, I glanced over what the shelves had to offer coming away even more disappointed than I had been with the empty gun racks. Of all the sub-armories in the entire fucking complex, I had to find the one storing spare wheels for artillery. Something I would have expected nearby or in a mechanics garage or related storage facility, not stuffed away two hundred feet underground.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ shitting me…” I growled at the racks on racks of large rubber tires. “Ya couldn’t even be for fucking APCs or something cooler could ya. No...why would ya you stupid fucking rubbery fucks!”

I don’t know what came over me in that moment...one moment I was glaring daggers at the tires and the next I had punched and kicked my way down the rows. The stress of everything had caught up to me and ended up getting vented on a bunch of useless fucking rubber tires. I was tired, I had a Bounty on my head by the SR, I had spent all that time breaking into the joint and now I was feeling a headache as Sparkle withdrawal started to set in. Scrambling for my left bracer at the same time as my saddlebag, I managed to extract a bottle of Cola and a special purpose adapter that plugged into the air valve of my helmet. Within moments I was sucking away at the small rubber piece connected to the straw system that dipped into the bottle and felt my headache subside with every sip I took.

SparkleCola addiction was a fucking bitch to live with. Even now I could remember when the news had first caught wind of the condition only for SparkleCola to shoot down every accusation they could in and out of court on the grounds of slander and libel. Even a dumbass knew the courts sided with the ones with the money back in the day and with SparkleCola being essentially by the Ministry of Arcane Science’s blessing, Twilight Sparkle’s face sold a lot of Cola. Nowhere near as nasty a withdrawal process as what I’d seen of Buck or Dash addicts, Spaklediction still had a nasty list of symptoms of its own. A list I had too much experience with. First came the headaches which turned into migraines. Then came the shits and finally dehydration and lethargy...and for anyone on the run, the last thing you want to have happen is needing to hop outta your armor every twenty minutes to shit behind a bush. Sure, the T-51 featured a unique codpiece inside that let you change your piss into drinkable water in a huge pinch but when it came to number two...not even magic could make that eh...reusable.

After a brief sit down and letting the Cola sit in my stomach for a bit I felt well enough to stand back up and slowly pick my way through the maze of tires I had created. Tripping over a few, I fell forward suddenly and came crashing down on top of a small desk that had been used by a requisition officer, entirely collapsing it under all the weight. Instead of getting even more mad than before though, I had come across something far more valuable to my well being than even 5.56.

“Well hellooooo beautiful…” I grinned, reaching out for the hidden stash of glowing bottles of liquid goodness my fall had uncovered under the counter.

* * * * * * * * * * *

As I ascended back up to the Crater, my insides probably glowing as bright as a Glowing One, I noticed something in the sand and dirt. A faint golden gleam from the sunlight overhead glinting off something near the entrance of the tunnel. Normally I wouldn’t go near such a thing as this was a common sign of a Raider trap, but seeing as this was abandoned in the middle of a RadZone, I decided that it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. Nearing the twinkling shine I noticed the faint outline of a revolver in the sand, the gold color coming from some sort of engravings on what little of the barrel peeked out from under the black earth. My curiosity definitely piqued, I fished a talon under it and yanked it free of the dirt for examination. While I had expected like a .357 or maybe a .44 Magnus at most, I was genuinely amazed at what I found. From the looks of it, this was a genuine Ironshod Armory BFR custom produced for the Desert Ranger Veterans. She was in bad shape missing chunks of the grip and most of her finer engravings muddled and worn from poor care and maintenance. The empty cylinder released smoothly thankfully enough but that was about as much good as I could say about it. The trigger was rusted and worn to the point I was afraid to even test if the hammer mechanism was still worth a damn but that didn’t stop me from feeling at least a little excited. I had actually managed to snag something that was definitively from Camp Macintosh and got a decent amount of ammo for whatever weapon I would soon buy chambered in 5.56. It could have been far worse.

“Fuck yeah! You’re a keeper for sure little lady.” I said with a grin, slipping the old revolver into an extra holster I had strapped to my breastplate for when I wanted to use my similarly sized Castle Dragoon while in my armor.

With my new toy tucked away, I brought up GIMP one more time to check on the locations of Hellhounds around the Crater. Instead of that however, what I got was a frantic alert stating that meteorological conditions in the immediate area indicated an incoming RadStorm. The T-51 and the upgraded parts I had added were more than enough to handle the Rads of a bombed out Crater like this but RadStorms were a totally different beast. Dust and sandstorms abounded in the Wastelands, usually striking without warning as nopony was left to regulate the wind and weather at large. This meant any that struck a RadZone would inevitably form an intensely charged storm of magically irradiated sand and dust that could strip you bare of skin nearly as fast as it could kill you from the Rads alone. Slotting a vial of Rad-X and a small bag of RadAway into their respective receptacles in my armor, I quickly triggered the auto-injection system and pulled up the map function on my HUD. Looking round at the surrounding areas to see if I could find some shelter, I noted a nearby mine on the map, only being about a mile away. Being labeled as a former Gem mine, it was bound to be deep enough underground to offer enough protection from the storm to let me sleep out of armor. After clearing it of nasties of course heh. I marked the location and began to follow the new arrow that appeared on my compass with an extra spring to my step. The GIMP was starting to whine verbally over my headset about the impending storm and I had learned to trust the bitch when it told my ass to hurry. This was gonna be a big one.

Chapter 3: A Light Shining in the Darkness

It had to be a good hour or two before I had reached the small foothills in the distance, the setting sun painting the cloudy sky in an array of reds, oranges, and purples as I reached the area marked on my PipBuck’s map. Getting closer I could finally begin to see the old twisted metalwork and rotting wood of a once thriving mining complex. Place was an old Pre-War Gemstone mine before the bombs hit, a large sign above the entrance to the above ground area of the mine read, ”Welcome to the RockHound Gemstone Mine”. I snorted to myself at the cheerful greeting contrasting so harshly with the world around it and entered the main portion of the surface-level operations for the mine. The air was still and unnaturally quiet, even for the open desert. Old mining carts and equipment laid untouched all around me in mangled heaps of scrap and yet I saw nothing on my E.F.S. Not a single Radroach or Radscorpion was in sight... I walked towards the portal to the mine itself and readied my rifle, turning on my helmet's low-light setting as I entered deeper into the dark maw.

Walking deeper, I could feel the embrace of the mine’s dark corridor as I looked around. Stone formed most of the passage after the first fifty feet or so which was heavily dusted with sand that had blown its way in. The old lighting system overhead had long gone dark, the Spark Generator probably having been damaged decades ago. It reminded me of the time my team was tasked to clear out an underground Zebra bunker, nothing but the sound of your steps and breath as you peaked every corner. The thought of running into a Zebra ready to plunge a dagger in your throat or put a bit of lead in your dome always on the back of your mind like the darkness of the mine itself. As I went deeper, I lost the light from the mine entrance and was now fully reliant on my visor’s LLS to get me through. About another minute or so later I came across the only thing I hated more in caves than big bugs: booby traps. This one happened to be a cruel but proven classic, a bundle of frag grenades tied to a thin tripwire across a ceiling support. For all it’s simplicity, it certainly made itself easy to disarm and all it really did was give me three extra frags to use and alerted me that the mine had an occupant. A Sentient one.

After about another five minutes and two more grenade traps I came across a large cavern at the end of the corridor. The place was massive with the roof reaching easily thirty feet above my head and the cavern itself having enough space to house a small army. By the looks of it, the cavern must have been a natural formation being too large to be made by a simple mining corporation. In the middle of the chamber sat a large pool of water with some type of large blue crystal that gave off a pale glow. The water below it also seemed to glow with it, not just reflecting the light but also producing it itself. It was a goddamned Nexus Crystal. And a big one at that, probably the largest I had seen since my graduate course in Crystalline Fusion Cores with the Army.

“Hmffff, figures the bastards must have been finding a way to get this thing outta here as the bombs fell.” I said softly to myself, glancing with a bit of wonder at the raw power pulsing through the Crystal. “That much NC could recharge a hundred Cores easy…”

The Crystal wasn’t the only thing that was glowing in the cave however. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something else giving off visible light in the dark cavern, something much smaller and generating heat. As I approached I noticed it seemed to be a little camp, and a fresh one at that. The firepit still had glowing embers in it from whoever was here before me and there was a bedroll out nearby with a rudimentary tripod suspending an old coffee tin over the firepit. By the state of the embers, they had only just stopped actively burning.

“Huh...well fuck, definitely someone's home. Real fuckin’ question then is where is the fuckin’ owne-” Before I was finished with my word, something hit me hard enough to actually knock me off balance and make me stumble in my PoA.

As I scrambled to pull out my revolver, a shot rang out and smacked off my smaller right pauldron with a metallic clang. The sound rang in my ear as the projectile hit the dummy 20mm rounds I kept strapped to my shoulder purely for aesthetics, tearing off three of the five there. I snarled as I managed to get my revolver free and blast three shots in the direction of where I judged the attack came from but not actually hitting anything. Everything had happened so fast that it took me a moment to notice I suddenly couldn’t see anymore. That's when I realized that my helmet had been knocked loose and I felt the warm barrel of a gun against the back of my head.

“Not a smart one, eh big fella?” I heard a thick ghoulish Apploosian accented voice say. “Comin into mah house and actin’ like your the fuckin’ Queen herself, huh?”

I growled but kept my cool. He had his gun right between the neck guard of my Stahlhelm and the high Kevyarn gorget of my plate carrier; no coming back from a poor move here.

“Look, I meant no damn harm. I'm just looking for shelter since there’s a fuckin RadStorm brewing outside. Place looked abandoned so I walked right on in.” I said, causing him to press the gun harder into the back of my head.

“You think me dumb boy? Ya think Ah don’t know a Steel Ranger when Ah see em? Thought ya could get one up on me huh, ya thick-skulled bastard.” He growled as he didn't let up. “Ain’t so thick now without ya helmet now ain’t ya?”

“Look, I'm fucking serious, I hate the SR just as much as you seem to. Ya think those code-driven asswipes woulda let me patchwork my fucking armor like this? Not in a million fuckin’ years! Every piece was ripped right off their corpses after I fucked em up.”

He kept the gun against the back of my head for a few seconds before he pulled it away. “Hhmmfff...fine, Ah’ll believe ya this time, but Ah’m watching your dumb ass. Now get yer ass up and explain just who in th’ bright hell on earth are ya and what yer doin’ in mah home?” He holstered his pistol and stepped back giving me room to get back up.

I turned around to find a sight that surprised me even more than the Nexus Crystal nearby. Standing before me was a Ghoulified Changeling. Not only that but one of those called Glowing Ones in fact where the magical Rads are so soaked into their flesh they light up like a lantern and make your Geiger counter nervous. He was dressed up in some type of duster, like the ones you would see in those old films from the early days of Equestrian cowboys getting their hooves on guns. Every detail of the classic look he had down, even down to the wide brimmed hat. Regardless of what his overall aesthetic was, he was wearing armor underneath his leather duster that made him look decidedly like one of the NER. The old Mrk. I in the M-CAP Ranger series given by the Republic to their fabled First Recon Deadeyes. While the Mrk. II was the proprietary armor of their Republic Rangers’ finest Veterans, I had noticed more than a few of the ancient originals had survived to become the mark of the best snipers in the NER. So...this guy had a lot of skill to earn that kinda gear, even dishonestly. The only true change to be noted was the abundance of harnesses, bags and holsters criss-crossing his body both under and over his non-regulation duster. Very odd...

“The name’s Firefly by the way.” He said, looking at me with a look that demanded an honest answer right away. Didn’t even consider chuckling at the irony of the name.

“Garand, Ex-SR and proud.” I said while retrieving my helmet and stuffing my head and beak back into its insulated interior.

”Ex-SR huh, well you're not makin’ ah very convincing point walking around in their suits then.” He replied with a grunt, moving towards a tent hidden in a crevice in the wall.

“Trust me, I know. Ain’t the first time some ones seen the armor and wanted to murder me. The Steel Rangers I grew up serving aren't like the SR nowadays. Shit has changed so fucking much...” I said and followed at a distance in case he interpreted closeness as a potential danger.

“Boy, what in the hell you on about? SR ain’t been decent fuckers since before th’ bombs! Ain't nopony surviving from that time beside Ghouls, and you sure in the hell ain't one of us. Ah’d fuckin’ know of all damned bastards around here.” The Ling growled a bit as he dug through a small foot locker inside his tent.

“Well contrary to what you seem to believe, I’m from before the Great War. I'm an Inland Gryphon, we live way longer than the smaller Griffins you are probably used to seeing around. They flocked to Equestria during the Zebra-Equestrian War since this is where more of the action was for them, what with Griffinstone actually being on this Continent. My bigger cousins had their talons full fighting off the Zeebs deep within the Greifenländer and liked to keep to themselves and their own problems for the most part. Few of them and half-Inlanders like myself came over since the fight here seemed more fun that the one at home. Guess in a way I was right...” I said, something that surprised the Ghoul even more than before.

“Yer shittin me... Guess you only got to this here new world ‘cause you got in one of them Stables huh?” He said, pulling out a can of tinned meat and opening up with a combat knife to munch on what was inside.

“Yeah...39 to be exact. Way the hell down in the Badlands...rather not talk about it.” I said, feeling the Cola addiction hitting once more and climbing out of my armor to enjoy my second to last bottle.

“Badlands? Sweet Celestia...them’s where demons roam…” He said quietly, looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and interest.

“You don’t even know the half of it…” I sighed, flicking off the cap as before and taking a long swig. “Fresh outta the Stable...finding my way North and outta there was no walk in the park, especially having lost most of my weapons when they pushed everyone underground for 200 years. Thankfully...good old Unforgiven has seen me through more than I think it was intended for even if she’s too big ass of a gun to be wasted on every damn threat. Problem is, the .454 Castle rounds were only produced here out West where FillyArms was located so after I went East, Unforgiven was a last resort kinda gun sadly. Excited to be out here and feel more free to let her outta the holster more often. Been a long time since I’ve had that kinda freedom.”

He stood once again and returned to his tent with the empty can. It was kind of fascinating to see a real Changeling, especially so far past the Great War. Hell, when I had first learned of them upon arriving in Equestria for the first time and tried learning all the Sentient species of note, I had learned very little. For all sakes and appearances, they had gone more or less extinct during the first years of the Z-E War as spawning Hives had grown more and more rare. Those who had survived became top operatives for M.O.M as their shapeshifting ability allowed for almost limitless espionage and counter-espionage potential. Had I ever expected to meet one in person? Not in a million fuckin’ years. A Glowing Ling? Well...let’s just say I didn’t even know that could be a thing not even five minutes before.

“Soooo...I gotta ask, from one Wasteland oddball to another...since when does a Changeling survive the Great War? Hell, since when can they become...ya know...Glowing Ones…?”

I could hear him chuckle as he came out of the tent, seeming happy to tell his story as he took a seat across from me with another can of meat. The light of the Nexus Crystal was enough to see a decent amount of the cave around me without the need of my helmet and I was grateful for the better eye biology of Gryphons. Despite the lighter tone, we both knew the other person had their weapon loose in its holster and reflexes trained for lighting responses. This conversation was going to be a very important ice breaker if I wanted to keep this guy from getting the jump on me for saying the wrong shit.

“Use to be in the NER military, part of their First Recon battalion. Bunch of snipers who know their shit, lemme tell ya. When they say we’re th’ last thang ya never saw, they ain’t fuckin’ yankin’ yer tail now ya hear? ‘Bout around twenty-five or so years ago I ended up getting caught in a Stable of mah own though it weren’t no happy dandy one like yew had Ah bet. Was supposed tah be a simple recon job but th’ whole fuckin’ place made th’ Geiger counters tick so damn hard they fuckin’ broke and th’ big ol’ door shut tight thanks to ah damned short circuit ‘er some shit. When Ah finally got out, Ah just thought by some twist ah Fate Ah had some sorta immunity to Rads by bein’ ah Changelin’ but eh...yeah. Soaked up so much of em while Ah was in there tha’ I started glowin’ like ah SparkleCola Rad even in th’ daylight.” He said as he started to drink some whiskey straight from a bottle he had sitting near the campfire. “Turns out we got a lotta natural resistance to Rads which gave enough time fer th’ magic to mutate me without killin’ me.”

”Damn, that fuckin sucks.” I whistled and finished my drink, looking around for a place to toss the bottle and being directed at a pit nearby leading to a lower level of the mine.

“Eh, themes the cards Ah was dealt in th’ end.” He sighed, taking another long draught of the bright orange liquid sloshing around his bottle. “Nowadays...well, Ah work fer myself mostly. Leavin’ the NER did meh a lotta good since Ah can apply my time in First Recon as a Bounty Hunter who make a good chunka change if ya know wha’ Ah’m sayin’.”

“Oh trust me, I do.” I chuckled, getting some canned meat of my own since watching him eat had made me hungry as well. “Been most of what I do ever since I left the SR.”

“Tha’ right?” He asked, eying me and my armor with a critical eye. “Eh...suppose y’all been tellin’ the truth here. Lookin’ at all yer gear, them SRs would be all sorts ah pissy. What sorta Bounties ya take eh?”

“Oh...depends on what my needs are. I tend to blow through ammo pretty quick so a lot of my budget goes just towards that and keeping my shit fixed and tuned up. Really, I get my kicks from demolishing SR assassination parties sent after me since they offer some of the best challenge you could ask for this side of history.”

“Guess tha’ explains yer armor lookin’ so...mismatched.” He chuckled, nodding towards my PoA standing patiently open for me to step back in. “Take it yer like most Griffs and are good wit’ yer hands? Have tah be to fix yer shit up th’ way ya have.”

“Heh...just so happens I took Masterclass Engineering courses on Power Armor back in the Army. Didn’t have access to the normal mechanist shit they have back in the Greifenländer so that was the coolest shit I could get my claws on that was fun to tinker around with. Sure as hell didn’t see it becoming a centuries-long necessity since I could have always relied on the Engineering Corps to keep my armor up to specs.”

“Hm. Well, if yer any sorta worthy of the title of Bounty Hunter out here, Ah wanna see it fer myself.” He replied, setting his whiskey down and stoking his campfire back to life.

“What do you mean…?” I asked with some hesitation.

“Take it yer not much from around these parts? Thought so...dunno what th’ standards are fer wherever yer from but in th’ San-Palomino, terms like Bounty Hunter n’ Mercenary are titles ya gotta earn. Tell ya what, Ah got ah Bounty Ah’m gonna be Huntin’ soon as this here RadStorm dies down out there. Why don’t ya come wit’ me an’ show meh just how good them SRs taught ya how tah fight. Who knows...be fun tah see one of yew big ol’ birbs doin’ some dirty work.”

I was going to be in need of some extra cash soon, as I had every intention of blowing what remained of my savings on a damned good new gun for myself. The combination of key indicators like his armor and equipment was enough to convince me he too was another Hunter just as he claimed. Just...one who liked to live in an old mine rather than a nice apartment on the Stirrup or something. If he was after the Bounty on my head, he could have claimed it when he had torn my helmet off so professionally. This guy knew how to fight the SR Paladins at least...maybe it would be fun to tag along with him and see what happened. Firefly was a far flung away from the name Killer Queen and given how green glowed across his body pulsing softly with his heartbeat, it was a much more fitting name. If almost on the nose…

“Ya know what...why the fuck not?” I replied after a bit of thought. “Kinda curious to see what the Bounties out here are like compared to Manehatten.”

“Lotta fuckin’ walkin’ first off.” He grumbled as he tossed some more fuel on the fire and laid back on his bedroll. “But th’ caps ain’t too bad if yer willin’ tah do what it takes tah get the Bounty fulfilled. Ya get graded on time an’ shit like that so if yer gonna tag along, ya gotta keep up an’ do yer part. Got a place on the Board an’ Ah wanna keep it there.”

“Damn..you guys do take your shit seriously out West...well don’t worry, I can more than handle myself against whatever shithead you’ve gotta snag. Won’t be as much of a challenge as a pack of Paladins, that’s for damn sure.”

“Mff...anythin’ is possible with somethin’ chambered in .50 Big Mac.” He chuckled to himself, nodding towards a worn wooden cabinet missing its doors and holding a collection of rifles and pistols. “Good AP dart into th’ back o’ the shoulder between th’ pauldron an’ rebrace’ll drop most of em. Even th’ ones in them 51s Ah think they’re called.”

“Sounds like you’ve some experience killing Steel Rangers…” I commented, eying his weapon stash with approval, especially at the rare bullpup .50 in the corner. “You guys get a lot of em out here…?”

“Ah few, yeah…” He sighed, lazily picking his teeth with the tip of his knife with his eerie green Changeling magic. “Seems tah be mostly scoutin’ parties tho’. We were sure they had some sorta base in th’ San-Palomino but...in all mah years servin’ with them, we ain’t never found head or tail of them chrome bastards. Least not hidin’ in one big ol’ base together. Though if yew’s one of ‘em, how come yew’s askin’ me about it? Wouldn’t ya know?”

“Heh...you’d think so but they kept my beak to the ground out in Manehatten lookin’ for any scraps of the old world they could get their greedy fuckin’ hooves on. Hell, only reason they even let me into their ranks was because I had armor of my own and incapacitated six of em when we first ran into each other. They might have enjoyed the big ol featherhead for my strength but they sure as hell didn’t trust me to tell me much of anything.”

“Hmph...now tha’ ya mention it, it is pretty odd of ‘em to take in a Griff. Heard of ah few of em but thought thems just a myth. Every Tin Head seen ‘round here been ah boring ol’ pony.”

“Well it’s not like a shitload of Griffins were in the Steel Rangers to begin with. They liked em bolstering the ranks of the General Army and Airborne since PoA is just too heavy to fly in, least the T-40s and above are. Nowadays...best you’ll find for a Griff is somethin from the M-CAT line, something you seem familiar with already.”

He laughed, propping himself up and tapping his black breastplate with a hoof as he replied, “Wha’, this ol’ thang? Heh...yeah...kinda forgot this here Black Armor ain’t original NER property. Hell, it ain’t even mine tah be frank.”

“Oh…?” I glanced at him again trying to gauge the level of truth being presented to me. “Did ya like...scavenge it from a Deadeye you killed or...something?”

“Heh, Ah ain’t no thievin’’ Raider bastard who thinks he’s some hot shit fer raidin’ ah corpse! Nah...this here...this here was ah deathbed gift from th’ Deadeye who had gone wit’ meh into that Stable that uh...made meh a walkin’ glowstick. Said Ah had earned it and...well...after Ah got that goddamned door open, Ah just took it, buried him and...mah career with th’ NER with ‘im. Well...fer th’ most part.”

“For the most part? Well, weren’t they mad at you for leaving?”

“Sure! Th’ Major was fuckin’ furious tha’ Ah took the Black Armor and resigned mah commission but in light of wha’ happened to me, th’ NER higher-ups said Ah could resign honorably an’ maintain mah citizenship long as Ah didn’t fuck em over. Ah still work fer ‘em on occasion. Th’ Syndicate n’ them ain’t on th’ best ‘o terms if ya know wha’ Ah’m sayin’ so when they wanna Bounty on some NER terrorist they come tah me. Better tah pay me a couple thousand caps than hunt the fucker down themselves ‘n pay their troops extra fer th’ trouble. Goddamned simple economics tha’ I can live with, yessir!”

The cave was filled with silence after that save for the soft crackle of the campfire and the low, almost imperceptible hum of the raw energy contained within the Nexus Crystal nearby. Despite a rocky first impression, he seemed like a pretty chill dude and a look over his equipment told me he was no slouch. If what he had said was at all true, I was in the presence of another professor of the art of war. Hardly terrible company for an old war bird to have.

“Well..Imma get some sleep.” I said after a good while spent in silence, he was browsing a gun magazine and I checked my PipBuck's inventory function looking for my bedrolls. “What time we off to kick ass?”

“Well, not fer nothin’ but we ain’t leavin’ till that there RadStorm outside blows over. From there...Ah had ah look at yer kit and Imma be frank, it sucks. Unless yer hidin’ another gun worth its spit on ya aside from that there revolver, yew need ah new gun. Ah big one. Big ol’ SR killin’ machine like yew oughta command sum respect with th’ gun ya tote and the fuckers out here tend tah have some decent armor on ‘em. Scarin’ th’ shit outta yer foes ‘n impressing yer friends, that there’s half the business in and of itself since yer name is yer livelihood. Now, th’ Bounty ain’t goin’ nowhere fast from what Ah know of him so, that means soon as we can we are goin’ tah th’ Gun Runners. Best manufactured boom boom toys in Equestria!”

“Really now? Hm…” I mused, dropping my leg away from my face and unrolling my nest of blankets and a fat inflatable pillow. “Was thinking about doing the same anyway so fuck it. Don’t have a hell of a lotta caps to work with but I think I’ve got some shit I can trade-in to balance it out if I find something really fuckin’ nice.”

“Ah don’t doubt you’ll find somethin’!” He laughed, pointing at the Kyeshev bullpup .50 from before. “Most mah shit comes from th’ Runners. Ain’t nopony Ah trust with mah protection more than ‘em that’s fer damn sure! Good prices too if yer ah regular.”

Laying back in my bed, I stared at the Nexus Crystal nearby glowing a mixture of baby blue and pure white light. While essentially useless without M.O.A.S equipment to process it, it at least made for one hell of an awesome night light to doze off to. As a precaution though...I remotely set the self-destruct device built into my PoA’s Crystalline Core to detonate if my PipBuck noticed my heart stop beating due to being killed in my sleep. Firefly was a chill guy but I had yet to fully trust him after all. Least if I died, I’d take him and a ten mile radius of Equestria down with me thanks to the extra detonation mass provided by the Nexus Crystal. A lightshow like the world hadn’t seen in two centuries...

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The storm lasted three entire fucking days. I ran outta Cola at the eight hour mark. Needless to say that when Firefly saw me considering braving the RadStorm just so I didn’t get shit stains all over my fur and feathers...well, he was enough of a good guy to let me pay for what bit of his collection he was willing to part with. The SparkleCola Rads I had found earlier in that lame ass excuse for a secret military bunker secured room was just too precious to waste on Sparklediction. Not only were they a decent little rarity in the Wastes but they had the most mesmerizing purple glow that you could waste hours staring into. No...they were going to be trophies for the shelf once I found a new place to nest.

By the time the storm finally died down, Firefly had managed to talk his way onto the better half of my good side. I could find a decent amount to respect in him after all. An honorable soldier who excelled in his field whose life was changed forever due to a Stable and now lived essentially as a hermit just subsisting by the skill of his trigger. He didn’t ask for the trouble that came his way but he answered it with the same answer I had: that all ya got? He was a simple Bounty Hunter who just wanted to keep his talent behind a long scope sharp and get paid a much better salary than what he had been making in First Recon. Even had he officially been granted his Mrk. I armor, he was still making twice what he would have as a Deadeye for the New Equestrian Republic. Extra pocket change in exchange for some interesting target practice...it sounded almost too perfect.

With the storm finally disappearing entirely from my GIMP map, we finally set out of his mine shaft home and out into the open desert. We had a Bounty to get to and the storm had pushed the schedule back a bit too much for comfort. The Syndicate, as described by Firefly, was a massive shadowy organization that coordinated every killer/gun-for-hire worth their salt and connected them with clients in need of their particular skill set or reputation alone. The shit was even so regulated that there was even a tiered system of ranks these people would have to earn their way into starting as a general Merc. Bounty Hunters such as Firefly were the next level up on the three-tier system having done their time with either a Merc company of repute or having relatively extensive experience with tracking and bringing in/down specific targets. As an honorary Deadeye of NER First Recon, he had more than enough initial clout to be granted one of the uncommon exceptions to the usual rise-through-the-ranks shit experienced by most.

Having built a reputation for himself, he was in the Gungho-Guns, a group of 15 of the best Bounty Hunters in the Syndicate who were all vying for the ultimate honor of Hitmare. Listening to him describe it, the life of a Hitmare sounded even more cozy and chillaxed than Bounty Hunting. Exclusive access to the best Bounties, exclusive access to the best inventories and even the ability to negotiate a Contract that let them operate as they saw fit so long as their terms were agreed to by the client. While Bounty Hunters and Mercs had killing as part of their job description, Hitmares made their living solely off the deaths of selected targets by high rolling clients. The casinos hired them, drug lords, Brahman barons, NER politicians, large Slaver operations...ponies were throwing themselves on top of each other to hire these professionals. As part of the chaos of the Gungho Guns, no one was assigned a number to denote who was above or below who in the rankings. Instead, those chosen would be told they had been selected and not a damned thing more as the whole point of it was to instill a common desire to outshine the others. While the Guns squabbled and worked endless hours to outdo the others, everyone else who hired them just kept lining up. It was all just too fuckin’ perfect and I was enjoying the idea of finally getting recognition for my talents again on an entirely opposite side of the country where I could make a name for myself on my own terms.

Today, we were off in an attempt to keep his position as a Gungho secured, especially after the delay caused by the RadStorm. From what Firefly told me, he had to find and bring in some asswipe Raider who was terrorizing a nearby small settlement. Even better, this Raider was said to be a tough bastard, armed to the teeth with two chunky .50 Big Mac HMGs he had rigged to a BattleSaddle. I was surprised to learn they weren’t a pair of M2s as I had expected but were actually Dushka HMGs produced in a country to the far, far North called Kyevshyna. Sure, guy might not have anything better than FMJs in his ammo belts like a scary ass API or SLAP round…but any gun that had Big Macintosh Guard as part of its description was something to worry about. As long as he only hit my T-60 bits or got glancing shots off my 51 parts, I would be fine. Well...that was the hope at least. I still had a particularly memorable scar in my left shoulder big enough to notice through my fur from an FMJ .50 that just managed to hit a particularly thin portion of the frame and blow right into me. The Ministry of Peace almost had to amputate the leg but the work of our combat medic had managed to keep it alive enough to be worked on in a real hospital good as new.

“Now usually, Ah wouldn' be worried ‘bout this sorta job. Next thing ya know, yer bringin’ him in before th’ bastard even wakes up. Only major detour from th’ norm is this fucker’s got himself ah lotta limp-dicked buddies that Ah need...well let's say, ‘unalived’.”

It had been a half hour since he had last said anything as we made our way towards New Pegasus, the city outskirts suddenly right in front of me without me even realizing. I had been so lost in thought I kinda forgot he was even there. What he had told me about the professionalism of the Mercs and Hunters out West reminded me of my name written on that damned blackboard in that bar. I had a large price on my head and if one of these seemingly legendary Hitmares was hired by the SR to do their dirty work for them...well it was going to change things. I hadn’t even had time to blink since the moment I arrived at this hot ass desert it felt…

“I get ya loud and clear.” I replied, only really hearing the last half of what he had said. “If he has access to such firepower, we gotta assume his goons are going to have at least a few weapons of quality in their possession and possibly armor to match.”

”And that there dinky lil’ .30 cal rifle you got just don’t seem like it'll be useful much longer.” He snickered softly in his Southern drawl. “Ah know, was th’ best ya could find way out East there. Yer on th’ other side of th’ fuckin’ country now! Big fella like ya outta have ah big ass gun tah match so here. Open yer talons.”

He stopped just as we started entering the outskirts of Freeside where the rubble slowly began to form buildings in varying levels of fucked. Reaching into his saddlebag with his gnarled black horn glowing sickly green, he pulled out a small burlap pouch and tossed it in my direction. My instincts lashed out to catch it in self-defense but the moment the bag clinked in my talons I relaxed at the familiar touch of cold, hard cash. Better a loan than a grenade.

“Here’s about six grand ‘er so, ya can pay meh back by clearin’ th’ way to that damned bastard. Head up towards th’ front gate to th’ Stirrup and hang ah right just before. Big ass Old World buildin’, Las Pegasus Gaming Commission ‘er some shit it used tah be called. Folks round her call her Th’ Pile after th’ rubble of th’ old dome that used tah be there sittin’ in the middle of everythin’. Point is, that there’s where yer gonna find th’ best open market this side o’ Canterlot and inside there, there's ah stall ran by th’ Gun Runners. If yew ain’t ever heard o’ them before then that there’s ah damned shame. Their shit’s the best in the Wastes hooves-down. Only problem of course is thems just a bit stingy on price ‘cause they know their shit’s th’ best ya know? But...ya definitely ain’t gettin’ robbed when ya shop there on a healthy budget, believe yew me.”

I nodded, my interest piqued the moment he mentioned the Gun Runners operated out here. I had only heard stories about their firearms during my time back East and even the SR seemed to begrudgingly acknowledge their quality which...was saying a lot for the prideful bastards. Six-thousand caps...not sure what the exact economy was like on this side of the Continent but it was bound to get me something particularly fine if the legends of the trade here were to be believed. He was right...much as the .30 carbine had grown on me a bit from my use of it the last year, I was much more at home with something with a lot more umph behind the barrel. I guess if there was one thing I could admit to missing about the SR, it was their almost unsurpassed arsenal of Pre-War weaponry; in particular the big, the heavy and the deadly. Need an M134 or a fuckin’ FIM-6 launcher for a particular op? Only had to sign the forms and requisition it from the Quartermaster just like in the old days with plenty of ammo to go around and people to slap you on the back for knowing how to use that shit properly. Wandering the Wastes as a fugitive though? You were considered lucky if you even found ammo for anything on your person let alone finding the parts, tools and oil needed to maintain them. What I wouldn’t give for a place to roost with a big ass workbench and smithing tools galore...

Before we had gone much further, he stopped and veered off towards the neon lights of an open bar. Since we had met he had been swigging whiskey like an old cowboy movie hero. At first I didn’t question it as booze was just as popular now as it had ever been in the history of ever but after his second bottle in a day, I grew a bit concerned. It was all nothing in the long run...its not that he was an alcoholic, he just enjoyed the flavors. Ghoulification had made getting drunk a lofty goal as it took massive quantities of nearly straight ethanol in order to start feeling a buzz. He was a goddamn connoisseur of whiskey with a lot of goddamn opinions on the shit so seeing him swing towards a bar was almost a no-brainer even after three days with the guy. Of course along with his picky ass taste for the hard stuff, it also made him the living embodiment of the term, ‘having to piss like a racehorse’.

“Imma try tah get any info Ah can from here. Syndicate’s got themselves a hell of an informant network so it’s likely somepony here might have an update of value tah us on th’ target. Also wanna see what dear Black Eye is swingin’ today and have ah few shots. Girl’s a hardass but damn if she don’t pour a mean shot fer th’ mouth tah experience! Meet ya here when ya get back, try not tah take too long aight? Gotta reputation tah uphold here and Ah don’t need ya gettin’ mah name nicked off the Gungho Guns.”

I nodded in response, not really in the mood to talk further with my mind returning back to its earlier worried thoughts. There was so much to figure out and I didn’t really know where to get started when I hadn’t even had a chance at settling in here. My thoughts kept my legs busy and distracted as I made my way in the direction he had indicated. Out of an abundance of caution I did my best to navigate the complicated back alleys just to keep attention off of me on the main walk of Freeside. The building he had described appeared before me soon enough, a Pre-War relic if I had ever seen one. Tall, wide and still sporting the cold, corporate white marble exterior associated with any building that had something to do with government or some other bullshit executive or judicial reason. Aside from the dome that sat in the center of the building being completely missing, the overall building was in surprisingly good shape. Sand storms and radioactive weather had left the marble pillars in particular with a dirty tan color but, aside from the armed guards standing by the front doors, you could almost pretend it was 2077 again.

“Whoa there big fella!” Called one of the guards as I approached, my irritation perking up its head slightly in anticipation of having to get in a shouting match with a stranger.

“Somethin’ ya fuckin’ need, my guy?” I asked with a tired sigh as I turned towards him expecting the worst before anything even had a chance to begin.

“Ay! Whoa! Chillax your feathers, Griffy boy.” He half-growled, half-said reassuringly. “Ain’t gonna be no problems now are there?”

“Excuse me…?” I asked shortly, biting back what I wanted to say in case these were the kinda guards given license to kill over minor infractions. Wouldn’t be the first market like that.

“Ya here to start shit, or are ya here to keep ya fuckin’ beak to ya own fuckin’ business?” He grunted bluntly. “We don’t take other ponies’ shit and we sure as hell don’t want whatever the fuck it is you do with your life bringin’ shit of your own to The Pile. This is an honest place of business and it needs to be kept that way. Am I understood?”

I stared at him incredulously through my helmet, utterly braindead from having to hear that shit in real time from some punk asses with M-CAT Mrk. IIs and IIIs thinking they needed to tell me how to behave. I had peaceful enough intentions as it was just coming to the fucking area to try and escape the heat on my ass, the fact trouble seemed to have followed me was honestly outta my control. I thought I had covered my trail well enough after leaving the SR with quite a mess to get their bearings on with more than enough of a head start. Something had happened to bring word all the way out here…

“You fuckin hearing me ya feathery Tin Head?!”

I snapped my attention back on this annoying fly of a stallion and growled, “Oh I read ya loud and clear, shrimp. I came here to buy a fucking gun, some ammo and get my ass on the road. If that ain’t an honest enough transaction for ya then why don’t I contract you to kiss my shiny metal ass, money up front. Put your money where your mouth is and let's make a deal right here, right fucking now. Now, if you’re done wasting my time, I’ve got shit to get to.”

I enjoyed the shiver of fear that rippled through his body as he nodded silently and jutted a hoof towards the open double doors while his companion stood pale and silent nearby. Leaving them behind, I was amazed at the size and scope of the inside of the building which itself was massive and spacious. In the central rotunda lay The Pile that Firefly had described earlier that lent its name to the entire building while the sun and cloudy sky peeked in through the huge gaping ass hole above. The main floor itself was a massive chaotic thrum of buying and selling as places once reserved for cubicles were now market stalls of all makes and sorts. Some were simplistic tents with homemade wooden tables showing off their goods while others went so far as to build full-on micro stores with metal and brick walls and armed guards standing at the ready, eying passerby with suspicious expressions. Even from where I stood near the entrance, I could see that Firefly had not been exaggerating that it was the largest hub of thriving trade West of Canterlot. Everywhere I looked I saw something else I didn’t expect to see as a thriving storefront in the impoverished Post-War world. Works of art like paintings and sculptures of metal, professional butchers who sourced from local Brahman barons, even fancy ass restaurants and exclusive bars on the second floor reached from a grand staircase at the back of the collapsed rotunda opposite the front door. A...staircase with what looked like...bouncers working an actual booth?

Putting the whole VIP stairway bullshit aside for later, I quickly saw my target down the left main causeway leading down a row of some of the larger market stalls. I chuckled softly to myself when I noticed the words Gun Runners written in bright red neon lights set on the roof of their large and reinforced store. The sign spun slowly in circles on a turnstile like an old world fast food joint which got a good chuckle of nostalgia outta me. The building was probably the most well protected and defended ones I had seen so far and I took note of the LMGs of various makes in the hooves of the defenders as I approached. They all eyed me warily as I approached but, unlike the dumbass at the front door, didn’t think to harass me when I looked like I was here for firepower worth my time. The front face of the store was the only one with any visible windows and there were already a few ponies standing in line waiting their turn to be served so I took the hint and grumbled to myself as I took up the back of the line. I was too irritated to even make fun of how short everyone ahead of me was.

My entire attitude changed however once I saw the masterpiece of a storefront the Gun Runners had going for themselves. While roughly similar in style to something like a walk-up fast food joint, the entire front was several solid panes of glass with a large deposit box device installed into a small section of concrete like a pharmacy or a bank in the center of the storefront. Behind the glass stood a burly looking green stallion sporting a military-style buzz cut and wearing a pair of aviator sunglasses that fit him rather well for a pony. As the customer spoke to him, he would nod and press a button on some keyboard in front of him and from behind a large metal rack of weapons slid forward on its own, all seemingly grouped by type. When the customer shook her head and the weapon rack was pulled away, I was amazed to see a small treaded robot doing all the work, a bit larger than an outdoors garbage bin with long, flexible noodle arms with clawed hands. A second shelf was moved forward for presentation while the rejected shelf was stacked up neatly in a tight group in the back located in one of two caged rooms. After a while, the mare seemed to settle on an old Greifenländer G3 with some decent attachments like a scope and a harness to use with it. A smaller deposit drawer I hadn’t noticed before then slid out to the left side of the larger one used for the gun and in she poured a bag of caps while a small digital sign illuminated with numbers. Some machine or other counted out her caps like bank tellers with old world bits until it stopped and the leftovers were dropped into a small box for her to take back. Payment received, the stallion grinned and deposited her new G3 into the large weapon drawer and slid it out for her to take and be on her merry way to go shoot whatever. It was a simple, rather wonderful way to conduct business. Sophisticated to the point I could almost imagine it as a concept gun store from before the War and slip into happier memories…

The line ahead of me dragged on for ages, every second spent standing adding a weight of stress to my mind as we were already behind schedule as it was with the RadStorm. Pony after pony left the front of the line with one well-smithed gun or more making my excitement to see their full stock only grow with time. They were leaving with assault rifles, shotguns, pistols, carbines, even a few LMGs and a pair of Dart-88 PONPADS launchers; all in excellent condition from the glimpses I stole as they walked past with their new purchases. For once...there was a distinct possibility that I could find something truly extraordinary to round out my personal arsenal. A crowning jewel of sorts that gave me an edge all the other weapons couldn’t. Heh...the more I thought about it, the more my mind was drawn to thoughts of returning to my roots using light, medium and heavy machine guns. With my Power Armor and the pre-existing mounting points for machine guns of varying models and sizes, I could really pick just about anything and be able to use it without worrying about compatibility issues. No...this was probably going to truly come down to something as stupidly mundane as looks. I prayed to Talin that they had more than just the G-series when it came to guns from home. With so many wonderful models before the Great War...it was a shame my options on the Continent were always limited to what shit became popular amongst the Equestrians.

Eventually the line carried me to the front where I finally got to speak to the stallion behind the glass who seemed almost overjoyed to see me. Although I couldn’t see his eyes, his grin was evidence enough that I was exactly the kind of client he had been waiting for all day. It was kind of refreshing to see a real military looking guy after miles and miles of poor scavengers farming the Wastes, drugged up Raiders not worth a damn and your basic merchants. Felt a little like home I guess. That and he wasn’t reaching for one of the many guns I knew he had access to to try and take the Bounty on my head so all-in-all, it was a win-win.

“Well what in fuck’s name do we have here, Nuts and Bolts?” His voice boomed through the speaker as he grinned, looking over me while the two robots rolled into view from the caged back rooms. “A goddamned Steel Ranger and a fuckin’ Griff no less! I take it since you’re without a Squad and your armor looks patchwork...lemme guess, one of them ‘Outcasts’ or whatever they’re called?”

“Guess it’s pretty obvious to those in the know…” I acknowledged which got a hearty laugh outta him.

“Damned straight! You ain’t been slinging no Tin Head dick around trying to wrestle anypony outta tech and shit so far as I care your caps are as good as anypony’s. Now, what can the Gun Runners get for a big ass guy like you today, eh? You seem like the kinda guy who works heavy weapons so let’s skip the petite lil’ girls and dive balls deep right into the big girls. Nuts! Get rack...two, Section D and Bolts! I need rack four, Section F. Let’s show this guy our sexiest ladies in the cages. They might not dance back there like them fine-ass ladies at the Sodden but damn if they don’t sing in the hooves when you pull that trigger!”

While I struggled to even think up a response, the robots glided away into the left back room before coming back hauling two large gun racks like I had seen done a half dozen times before. Coming to a stop on either side of the stallion a few feet behind him, I finally got to look at what sorta new boom-boom toys these guys had. On the left rack was a fine selection of light and medium machine guns while on the right was a variety of launchers including both grenade and missile. However, before I looked them over I needed to get the ammunition from the short list Firefly had added onto my own. Whatever was leftover from Firefly’s caps would go towards my new gun so it only made sense to know how many leftovers I was gonna be working with before making a big purchase. I had things to trade, like all the 5.56 ammo I looted from Camp Macintosh but still...I wanted as much money as I could get so I could afford something worth my time and trust. A main battle weapon has to be as trustworthy as a nestmate since it’ll be your first and last line of defense when shit hits the fan.

“Definitely read my mind there but, I gotta buy ammo first so I know how much I got leftover for a gun.” I said, giving him a thumbs-up in the direction of both shelves but keeping my eyes focused on him to save the big reveal.

“Oh yeah? Guess there’s some good old budget logic goin’ on in that shiny helmet of yours! What sorta speedy boys ya need, soldier?” He replied while waving the bots away and hanging on my every word.

“Dunno if y’all got all of them but fuck it, best bet Imma get out here. For myself, I need four boxes of 12-gauge in scatter shot or 8-ball, three boxes of .454 Castle and a couple boxes of .45-70 Celestia. As for my uh...business partner, he needs two boxes of .50 Big Mac black-and-silver tips and two boxes of .338 Luna Magnus. Doesn’t matter what type as long as it isn’t SJHP or has a tracer element. Armor piercing preferred he said but he gets that they tend to go fast thanks to the NER’s 1st-Recon snipers. Something about y’all reverse engineering the Barnette .338 MRAD for their snipers?”

“Gotta respect a guy that knows his shit! Gotcha loud and clear brother, N and B? Go get the nice bird his speedy boys, pronto!” He replied with another laugh, punching commands into the large keyboard in front of him and glancing over the monitors I couldn’t quite see built into the concrete portion of the wall.

A moment later, Nuts and Bolts rolled back into view pushing a small cart with my order piled onto it in no particular order. Most of the ammo came in cardboard boxes while the .50s rested in just the plastic frame that holds the rounds together. Whether due to box shortage or something else...well, not like I really fucking cared to ask. I was getting everything I needed in one stop! How could I be mad about anything going on here?

“Alright, we’re looking at...hmm...fuck it, I’ll round it out and down for ya since ya look like the kinda guy who’s gonna spend money worth me and the boy’s time on a new boom stick today. Total today is one-thousand shiny soda bitches! Right in the damn slot like everyone else if ya don’t mind, Chrome Dome.”

The small money slot rolled out to my left and the red LED lights displayed a row of eight zeros that reset to 1,000 after a brief second. It felt so easy doing business this way as the caps poured from my bag and into the chute making a lovely sound that only money could make; the red numbers rolling down at a frantic pace until finally the chute closed and all remaining caps in the hopper fed into the leftover pile. After the money deposit thing slid back into the shop wall, the larger deposit drawer then opened with my pile of ammo neatly stacked in the center. Didn’t take long at all to toss' em into my right saddlebag knowing my PipBuck would help me find Firefly’s rounds later on when I needed to.

“Now I know for damn sure you’re a big gunner!” The stallion laughed again, nodding to the large caliber rounds going into my bags. “.454 Castle, .338 Luna? Ain’t no pansy ass pussyhoofed numb-nuts using guns that big, thems for big boys only, amirite?”

“Finally someone who speaks some sense in this town…” I laughed back, enjoying the company of this jolly jarhead. “You got me worked out pretty well for a stranger. Worked with LMGs, MMGs, HMGs and explosive ordinance my entire career and I’ve developed a big love for big frame revolvers.”

“I’d fuckin’ say so! .454 and .45-70 are some of the biggest bitches in the Wastes!”

We shared another short laugh together but we quickly returned to business as Nuts and Bolts rolled the gun racks back into view. Talking to this guy made me more at ease than I expected considering he was a total stranger. His entire demeanor bespoke a long period spent in a military setting and not just some yuppy fucks in some town militia. No...the only ones out here who could deliver a decently recognizable military education would be the New Equestrian Republic that I had heard about back East. They started as a small town no more special than any of the other ramshackle impressions of civilization except for the fact they came from a Stable and thus had a few legs up on everyone else.

With StableTec’s finest easing the transition to Post Apocalyptica, their capital of Shady Sands way North of us was probably the most modern settlement in the Wastes that was built from the ground up instead of just refurbishing Pre-War buildings. Now, some hundred-ish years after the fact, they had exploded in size, swallowing up most of the West side of Canterlot with their borders ending just outside New Pegasus. That is minus a dozen or so safe houses scattered around San-Palomino Desert for their scouts to use during their deep recons of their future holdings. I had never met a member of this Republic in person before but I had always been told to treat them as a mortal enemy by Elder Giorgi. The NER had kept the Gap of Canterlot firmly shut against SR expansion into the West for decades with the only option to pass being all-out war. The amount of raw resources, Knights, Paladins and elite Sentinels needed to break through would absolutely cripple the majority of operations in the East and leave multiple Outposts with skeleton crews; a perfect opportunity for well-organized gangs like the Gunners to make big moves of their own and get easier access to loads of Pre-War tech. The SR had tech and the best tech leftover from the War to boot but the NER had some too. And though they lacked the means to expand to the same level as the SR, the Republic had managed to fight us to a standstill at the Gap since before I joined. We weren’t as invincible as many would have liked to have believed amongst the Rangers...

With the shelves back in place, I finally allowed myself to visually open my Hearth’s Warming gifts...in early July. I was naturally more attracted to the machine guns and was happy to see the Boulder 63, the M60, the M240, and even the big ass M2 chambered in .50 Big Mac. All of them I was intimately familiar with, knowing every part and function inside and out from years upon years of daily practice and experience. On the shelf to my right I was similarly impressed with the line-up of exploding toys including the FIM-6, Dart-88 and the four-barreled monstrosity called the Reaper Quad. Not only that but I also saw several M79 Thumpers, M25 LAPs and even an uncommon XM-41, the fabled ‘pump-action grenade launcher’ with its 3+1 tube of 40mm goodness. That all being said...I wasn’t feeling any of them particularly fondly as they were just too familiar. I wanted something special. Something...from home if I could. It was a long shot but...well, so had been my original words about the ammo and dear fuck was I proven wrong than to doubt these guys. Was worth at least asking, right?

“These all look great but...I dunno, I’m just not feeling it. You got anything special in your armory? Something from Greifenländer if possible…?” I said, feeling a little awkward for some reason. It just felt a little odd asking for something so far removed from here with modern-day international travel being what it was.

“Ya know, now that ya mention it…” He replied before looking down at his monitors intensely, seeming to be scrolling through their inventories. “Tell ya what, I got somethin’ that is damned special that’s been sittin’ in our storage house for ages. Tried selling it for years but the bitch is just too big for anypony to fuckin’ use. Built from the ground up for someone your size for damn sure.”

Now he really had my interest. Sadly without anything more to go off on I could only guess what kind of gun he was referring to. We had hundreds of models from rifles to pistols to ordinance and everything else a damn modern military needed to survive back then. How the fuck was I supposed to guess any of ‘em with such a shitty clue?

“Do you know the name??” I asked eagerly, something he picked up on instantly.

“Heh heh heh, don’t go gettin’ a war boner too quick big guy, I don’t honestly remember the bitch’s name. Hell, I doubt I can remember even half the bitches I meet at Sodden casino heh, heh. Anyway! I gotta head back to our storage facility since we haven’t bothered putting the sucker on the rack in like four years now. Should only take ten-minutes, max.”

I sighed but nodded my head all the same for him to go ahead and do what he needed to do; Firefly was probably going to be at least a good bit getting info and a not-so-stiff drink or two anyway. Shooing away Nuts and Bolts again, the stallion walked into the center of the shop where a small control pad stood on a pedestal. Slapping the console, the floor below him began to lower down out of sight as it dawned on me that they had a goddamned service elevator built right into their own fucking store. It explained perfectly how they were able to get in and out of the place, let alone resupply it with new stock, without the need of an exterior door on the store. While I waited for him to come back, I tried to peer into the caged rooms to see what other neat guns they had in stock in case I had the chance to shop here again. While I had my favorite go-to guns that went with me everywhere I went, that didn’t mean I wasn’t an avid collector and professional hobbyist in the sacred art of gunsmithing. As with all Gryphons, I had received advanced engineering training from a very young age as was the pride of all Griefenlander. Getting into the military had given me just the chance I needed to put that early education to good use by applying it to repairing, maintaining and eventually even creating my own Power Armor and weapons. Heh...if things went particularly bad, I wondered if they would be interested in hiring me for the impressive resumé of blueprints I’ve committed to memory.

Exactly ten minutes later the stallion returned, this time with a long wooden box on a large push cart. From the size alone it could only be a sniper rifle or an LMG of some sort, maybe a panzerschreck though I hoped not as it was far too bland. Pushing the cart near the glass, he hefted up the most unexpected and most dazzling weapon than I had seen in well over 200 years. There resting beautifully in his hooves was one of the best Gryphon LMGs caps could buy, if they even knew what it was to begin with. The LMG-42, or rather in this case it was the LMG-42 SAW, its smaller and more mobile-infantry oriented counterpart. It was divine looking, coming stock with a pretty decent muzzle brake on the tip of the barrel and an offset foregrip on the left side of the barrel shroud. It was painted in a basic two-tone desert camouflage and sported one of those shark mouth decals painted towards the end of the barrel that was so nostalgic I would have cried if I wasn’t so damn enthralled. It also had one massive drum mag which belt-fed into the left side of the receiver that was attached to the underside of the frame. Both variants of the 42 used .308 Winchestnut rounds, same as lighter sniper rifles and the M134 minigun, which meant quality stopping power even at fair range and access to quality armor-penetrating rounds. To top it all off, when he held it close to the glass I could see the telltale swirling pattern of Greifenstahl, the nearly indestructible metal alloy that only the few Grandmaster Smiths of the old, old country knew how to produce. It was insanely rare to see any examples of it outside the Greifenländer to the point I doubted even this gun nut knew what he had in his hooves. Hell, the rumors alone I heard about the stuff made it out to be a laughingstock on the Continent. This was going to be a steal no matter how highly he priced it. The fucker was holding something easily worth a million caps...

“Holyyyy goddamn!” I gasped, gazing over the five-foot long beauty of Gryphon engineering. “Since when the fuck did you guys get one of these?!”

“This old fucker…” He grunted as he lowered it down into the deposit tray to rest. “Hooboy...she’s been here long before I started Runnin’ and Gunnin’! Nopony really knows where the damn thing came from but we can’t get rid of the fucker either. Judging by your stunned silence I found the right bitch for ya. Excellent!”

“How much?” I asked pointedly, the grey and brown of the LMG calling to me.

“Well, for the size alone usually I’d charge ya several thousand caps but considering how long this bitch has been in storage, I think I’ll cut ya a deal. No gun should ever be without a daddy to look over her! That’s my personal motto and my business ethic for ya.”

“That...is generous of you. Doesn’t exactly answer my question though.”

“Ah fuck...let’s call it seven-grand even and I’ll even toss in the extra four box mags we think all go to it. Also, good old Cogsworth worked his magic again for us so now we can offer free bullet belt link-up on any purchases worth 2,000 caps or more!”

“Free...belt link-up?” I asked, taking a second to comprehend what he meant.

“Yeah dumbass! We gotta machine now that automatically links belts of ammo together for LMGs, miniguns and all the rest of them rapid firing girls. If ya got any .308s, toss em in the drawer after you pay for the gun and I can get em into belts for you free-of-charge! Can get the bitch up and ready to fire in no time.”

The money drawer opened once again and the seven-thousand price tag appeared on the number screen. I dumped what was left in my cap bag and Firefly’s into the hopper and watched the numbers tick down to 1,387. As expected, I was running short but I was prepared for that, especially for something like this. Hell I would almost be willing to sell my all-but-useless wings for this fucker and more. Only question was...would this guy and this set up allow for what I wanted to do? It was by far the most advanced store I had ever encountered, eclipsing even the Quartermaster’s Armory in the Citadel. It was worth asking regardless.

“Damn, you’re a bit short eh?” He chuckled sadly. “Ah well, if ya got shit worth sellin’, best break it out now. We accept anything related to guns and are now accepting armor as well if it aint too banged up. Turns out, we might wanna try to get into the armor business too!”

As I dug in my bags for the endless stacks of M16 mags, the bigger drawer slid out letting me dump them in by the handful. The stallion nodded with a grin of approval while I dumped in the mags before pulling the drawer back to his side of the titanium quartz glass and beginning to count them. Taking them one-by-one, he stacked them in a neat pile on an old industrial digital scale before checking some sort of reference book from a low shelf.

“Alright, looks like all of em are loaded to the absolute fuckin’ top so that’s thirty, thirty-five round M16 mags which comes in at...1,050 rounds of 5.56mm. Tell ya what, with the condition of these mags and the ammunition I’ve seen in ‘em, I’ll give ya the gun, the four spare box mags and let’s do...five 100-round belts of .308. That’ll let ya load all five of them mags and we both walk away happy guys. Those mags and rounds are shiny like they’re fresh off the presses which doubles their value!”

“Well fuck, can’t say no to that!” I laughed, nodding excitedly for him to go ahead with the transaction. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

He saluted in response and pushed the M16 mags onto the ammunition cart used earlier, afterwards turning his attention to a machine I had failed to see earlier in the corner. It featured a large squared hopper that led into a wide, relatively flat coffin looking machine with two latches and a large crank handle on one side. Taking a large cardboard box retrieved from one of the robots, he proceeded to dump .308s into the machine before moving to the latches and lifting up the top half of the rectangular device. Carved into the steel was a wide, squared channel on top and bottom in which he placed inserts that narrowed the channel by half. Next, he reached for a large metal cabinet to the side of the machine and attached a flex-chute to one of the six slots lining the top rim. The chute came from a selection of sizes which I assumed all corresponded to a particular calibers’ belt links stored inside the cabinet. The other end of the chute was then attached to the left side of the contraption and to the right was attached one of the box mags he had mentioned. After cranking a small lever on the side of the storage cabinet thing, he used his teeth to pull out a metal link that now dangled out from the end of the flex-chute. Soon he had dragged the links of thin steel to the center of the machine where there were complex gears and other inner workings I couldn’t quite see ready to stuff new rounds in. All set, he latched the top half of the machine down again and moved the hopper on a ball bearing rail over to the center of the device. Once that too was latched down, he opened the hopper and began to crank the handle at a steady pace; soon I was seeing an endless row of beautiful brass and copper flood out the right side and into my first drum mag. It was the most gorgeous sight I had seen in my life since the Gooseberry Twins in Stable 39 all those years ago. Far as I cared, fresh shiny bullets were jewelry in their own right and beat out gold and silver any day for far cheaper and with a lot more uses.

As the last of my mags was filled, the stallion stepped away to wipe his sweaty forehead and take a long drink from a military canteen given him by one of the robots.

“Goddamn what a workout!” He belted out with a hearty thump to his chest and a grin. “But damn if this bitch doesn’t make this shit a hell of a lot easier. Not to mention faster! I mean, that was five-hundred rounds in something like five-minutes? If this bitch goes down then we gotta go back to the old way we used...Goddesses I hope that never happens. Thank fuck Cogs is so fucking close by because if this thing goes down...ugh...anyway! Five box mags and one bigass Griffin gun coming right up!”

He dropped the items in as he mentioned them and a moment later, I finally got to see my new girl up close and personal for the first time as the drawer slid back out to meet me. The old tan and brown spray paint camo put on it by one of my brethren hundreds of years before had mostly rubbed off save for the shark mouth decal towards the front. While that sort of neglect on the paint job would get your ass chewed out back in the day, I didn’t mind it one bit as I got to see the original colors of the LMG-42, which I hadn’t seen in such a long fucking time. Cold grey metal and dark brown wood...so simple and yet so dangerously gorgeous in the right talons. The metal in particular was of most interest as the metal had an intrinsic pattern of varying shades of steel grey in every piece; the visual cue that Greifenstahl was the metal of choice here. Even with the advanced forge techniques I was trained with since I was a chick, I only knew that Greifenstahl was an alloy of at least four different metals and then somehow...brought together in such a way that makes it nigh-on indestructible. Even the famous Equestrian Celestium Steel, for as extremely tough shit as it was, could only dream of the kind of brawn true Gryphon Steel had. I wouldn’t need to repair or replace anything on this gun that wasn’t the wooden stock and grip. Fuck, I could mount this bitch on an armored transport with a belt 10,000-rounds long and not even have to worry about singing my feathers accidentally against a superheated barrel. This gun was gonna outlast even me with how strong and durable it was. All the best family heirlooms were made of the good stuff back home.

“I take it the big featherhead is pleased?”

“You ask that like it’s a fuckin question!” I retorted with a laugh. “Fuck the hell yeah I’m happy! I don’t say this often so consider yourself extra special: thank you.”

“Gratitude eh? Damn, you sure as hell ain’t one of them Steel Rangers! Ain’t none of them fucker’s show gratitude towards anything! I’m tellin’ ya, them Rangers ain’t anything like the ones on the old posters...that whole goddamn order of theirs is completely FUBAR.”

“Heh, NER soldier boy I take it?” I asked, seeing as only they would know an outdated military swear acronym like that. Yet another pleasant blast from the past...

“You’re goddamn right I am! Er, well...was. Resigned from my post about six-years back after fifteen solid years with ‘em. Just wanted a change of scenery in a hella more stable job environment that didn’t force me on long patrols in the desert lookin’ for trouble during a troop shortage; and believe me those were all the damn time. Normally a good lookin’ buck like me would have considered maybe joining the Rangers Battalion but...dear Celestia’s fiery ass where in the fresh hell did you nab one of those?!”

He jabbed a hoof at my chest and I looked down only to remember the dilapidated Sequoia I had snagged from Camp Macintosh was resting across my breastplate in my chest holster. Being an NER soldier, of course he would recognize this old fucker as supposedly the old tradition of the Corps had continued into this NER successor. I had spied a Paladin once, fresh from a fringe patrol out West who had run into an NER Ranger patrol squad back before they fortified the Gap. He was so goddamn proud of the IronShod BFR Sequoia he had collected off the corpse of one of their Ranger Veterans and liked to show off the beautifully engraved gun at every chance he could around the Citadel. I could only assume that the NER had managed to salvage their rather simplistic design schematics from somewhere and were able to produce them in-house like they could their Ranger-series Mrk. I and II armor sets.

“You mean this old raggedy hunk of junk?” I replied, hoisting out the heavy little thing which caused him to recoil with a look of horror at the fucked state of the gun. And I thought I felt bad for the damn things’ sorry state.

“For the love of fuck please tell me that wasn’t your doing…” He gasped, almost glaring back up at me after he had taken another horrified look at the gun.

“Fuck that, like hell I would let this sorta shit happen to my gear.” I retorted with a bit of anger. “Found it like this out near Macintosh buried in the fuckin’ dirt. My armor let me explore the Crater y’all have over there for a bit and that’s where I got all that high-quality ammo and shit. Found it just outside the hole in the wall leading into the complex.”

“You looking to sell??” He asked with wide eyes of envy. “Even in that condition, I’d pay you a good price for her. Been wanting something like her in my holster for years now but the only way to get one is to earn it in the Battalion, strip it from a corpse or...buy it from the blue moon guy who just so happens to find one in the wild somewhere.”

“Heh, sorry but I’m keeping this find for myself. That being said...you guys think you could restore it for me? I’ve got a bit more I can trade-in for refurbishing this old thing.”

He looked regretful of my answer but nodded with a somewhat forced smile.

“Aye, that we certainly can fuckin’ do. How about this, leave it here with me and come back for it in...let’s say a week. That’ll give us time to mill out the metal and wood we’ll need and a couple days for the fine tuning, polishing and live fire tests for quality assurance testing.”

The drawer opened up but I hadn’t heard anything about the costs. I wasn’t about to be finessed out of my new toy if I could help it.

“Hold up, what’s this gonna run me?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullllllshit. If you’re trying to snag this Sequoia then you’re sore outta luck.”

“You ain’t selling so I ain’t snagging anything. You’ve spent over 7k in caps which makes you a very high-spender, the kind of customer we like coming back to us for more of the best shit in the Wastes, my friend. Consider this a token of appreciation for your business here today taking that big ass bird gun off our hooves finally and giving her the new life she deserves. Just like that gorgeous lil’ beauty in your claws deserves a second chance to make somepony proud. Just like any good soldier, you never leave a good gun behind.”

For such a built Army guy, his voice was surprisingly soft and genuine right now. If I wasn’t aware of what was going on, I would have mistaken him for a caring parent by the way he talked about firearms. This guy loved guns it seemed…

“Alright, you know what? Sure. But make sure you’re the guy who gets to test fire it. Consider it a customer request. Might be denying you the gun but I don’t think it’d be fair for someone as passionate as you to walk away without enjoying it for awhile.”

With that I dropped the gun into the deposit box and enjoyed the look on his face as he gave a hearty salute of gratitude. It was a small gesture sure, but as he said loyalty was something they valued. Making a good impression on the best merchants was a basic part of Survival 101 so buttering him up right back was sure to pay off for how low the price was.

“Well...I’ll be goddamned! Would be my pleasure to test her out for ya big guy! I can see this being a profitable relationship for both of us. The Runners have been my life for the last six-years but this is by far the best transaction I’ve made here yet.”

“Heh...well, I guess I’m honored?” I chuckled nervously, noticing the increasingly mad line of ponies behind me waiting to be served but brushing them off. This was a genuinely interesting stallion, something I didn’t get to experience that often since most of the good soldiers died 200 years ago. “How’d you end up here after the NER?”

“Phbbt, that? Ain’t much to tell! When I walked up to these folks asking if they were hiring about a month after leaving the Army, they took one look at my tattoo and knew I was the right stallion for the job. Spent most of my time in the Armory for the Republic so I got my hooves on all sorts of neat shit from the old days making me the best damn pick for working in this fortress of a store. Best goddamn decision of my whole life if ya gotta ask me. Got solid hours workin’ with my harem of deadly bitches making folks like you live to see another day with my company’s finest! And what about job security eh? Lifetime employment and four mean sons-o’-bitches guarding each corner! I get more respect and pay here than I ever got with the Army! Best part is, I’m still the fucker they’re coming to see for weapons! We make a killing off of how much the damn Republic spends on repairing their old service rifles and making new ones. And don’t even get me started on bullets! I swear they’ve gotta either be at war or preparing for one...but the fuck do I care? I ain’t part of their problematic political bullshit anymore.”

“Damn...if I didn’t have a price on my head, I might be tempted to ask about employment myself…” I said out loud to myself, pulling back on the charge handle for my new LMG and feeling a happy, giddy ruffle up my feathers as the action clacked closed with a loud, metallic snap on the first of 100 rounds.

All of a sudden, gun shots went off in the distant corner of the market and the air was electrified in an instant. Of course I just had to go and fucking jynx myself by even mentioning that shit outloud…

“Ah shit, looks like somepony got ripped off again. From the sounds of things, it's a big one this time.” The stallion sighed in an annoyed tone before raising his voice up to reach the others in line. “You know the drill everypony. Front’s closed until the All-Clear.”

And with that a solid set of steel walls extended from the ceiling and floor, sliding nearly shut near the center of the glass panes at the stallion’s eye-height leaving just enough room to look outside. I would have stuck around to look at the lockdown system more but the four guards at the corners of the store started barking at everyone to get lost, just as more gunshots echoed across the marketplace. While it was more-than-likely not my problem, I still didn’t feel like being identified in such a public place. I got what I needed plus interest so it wasn’t time to start pressing my luck around here.

“Sonova bitch, I gotta get outta here.” I growled and quickly made my way towards the exit. “Yeah totally could be nothing, but it could be something too and that’s the fucking problem isn’t it?.”

I cursed myself. In my armor I was the easiest target to find in the market being a full two-heads taller than everyone else around. Even out of my armor I would have had a hard time masking my presence but it was like I was asking to get recognized. Now I was stuck in the market in the middle of some fight and for all I knew there could be an opportune assassin somewhere waiting for me to come out of the aether. The path to the front door was a bit of a mess as the general mood was tense but not in a full panic. This probably wasn’t the first or last time bullets had gone flying around in here so it was unsurprising to see most merchants still conducting business more-or-less as normal as I passed. The shots seemed to have come from the other side of the building so that gave me a bit of hope in avoiding the problem altogether.

Making it to the doors out was uneventful as the general commotion was coming from the far right corner of the market. I could hear some yelling followed by an extremely odd sounding explosion that didn’t ring a bell with any of the ordinance I was used to. Regardless, it was nice to be out and in Freeside proper again where I could find Firefly and get back into the open desert where the amount of possible sniper perches was minimal. The outside streets were just as they had been when I entered, busy with leftover merchant stalls not good enough to fit inside the building. No sight of any...oh for the love of...

Meandering like idiots aways up the street towards the bar I needed to reach, I noticed a few Merc types looking around for something. They had good equipment, way too well armed to not be in a Company or something and each had matching white-painted early model combat armor with bold stripes of black on the shoulder, chest and thigh plates. As to which Company they ran with or who had hired them, I hadn’t the slightest clue having had no time to get to know who the fuck was who out here. I seemed to catch the attention of a few of the knuckle heads as a few ran after me the moment I started to run towards the nearest alleyway; a reminder to me of why I took the back alleys to get here to begin with. I could hear them screaming and yelling in my direction as I ducked into the alley. I had no idea why they were after me but it was totally possible these were goons of whoever the Hitmare bitch was that wanted the 25k on my head, Killer Queen or some shit. Finding a suitably sturdy old concrete road barrier that had been tossed in the alley along with other rubble and junk, I quickly decided brace my new LMG on it try out the power of 1,200 rounds-per-minute on these dumb fucks. 100 rounds was hardly an abundance of ammo but all it would take would be to treat her like a semi-automatic. Quick, smooth and collected squeezes of the trigger to conserve ammo. The automatic fire mechanism would take care of the rest for me the moment I made a positive ID.

Hearing them coming down the alley finally, I flipped the safety toggle with my thumb and leveled the sights at what was roughly pony-height.The alley lit up with the sound of gunfire and the near-constant light of muzzle flash as I spared no time letting out a few controlled bursts on the trigger as soon as the first body appeared in my sight picture. All I knew for those few short seconds of combat was the feeling of pure, blissful joy as lead flew, bodies crumbled and gore splattered the alley walls in glorious fashion. Before I knew what had happened, I was standing there panting with my gun empty and at least six dead Merc asshats laying in pools of crimson about twenty feet away. I could tell from the holes leaking small fountains of blood in their armor that the guy had set me up with belts of .308 AP, and not the shitty ones either. This 42 was a masterclass in slaughter… I was gonna need a lot more .308s now I had discovered the orgasmic experience of firing this beautiful bitch.

”D...damn that was...thrilling.” I panted and sat down against a wall, trying to regain my breath. I took out the empty drum from the receiver and stuffed it into my saddlebags, retrieving a fresh box and belt from the magnetic mounts on my sides just as I noticed Firefly making his way up the alley behind me looking concerned.

”Damn Garand, th’ fuck did ya do?” He said as he slowly trotted up, noticing the casings, dead bodies, and my new beautiful LMG. “Could fuckin’ hear tha’ bitch from th’ fuckin’ moon with tha’ kinda fire-rate!”

“Market place was attacked, some Merc assholes. Guess they thought I was their target or something, hell if I know. You recognize ‘em?” I said as I finished slapping the feed tray cover over the fresh belt of shiny bronze and copper death.

“Hmmm, looks like Black Velvet’s merry band of asshats….damn.” He growled with a look of concern. “The hell is that bitch doin’ back in these parts? She ain’t gonna be happy to see some of her boys drowned in blood...but why was she after yew if Queen got yer Contract? Ah fuck it...anyways, got info on our target. He's hidin’ out at a place known as Black Steel Hill. ‘Bout forty-clicks East somewhere, some kinda Pre-War radio bunker.”

I nodded and had Firefly help me up. “Sounds promising, let’s get going. Oh, and here's the ammo ya needed by the way.” I said, slinging my LMG over my back and attaching it to the large mag-strip meant for shouldering larger weapons.

After using my inventory screen on my HUD to bring the appropriate boxes of ammo to the top of my saddlebags and handing him his order, he commented, “See ya got a new piece! Ain’t she a beauty!” He said, admiring the Greifenländer marvel of gunsmith mastery. “Must’ve cost ya a hell of a pretty cap tah get one like that! LMG is ah damn fine choice fer ya.”

“Heh heh, thanks! It definitely cost me out the ass, even with your contribution, but I haggled the price down a bit by selling off some shit to the vendor. You’ve no fucking idea how fucking priceless this weapon is, especially now.”

He chuckled and we started to head out to the Wastes once again, taking nothing but back paths in order to escape further attacks. “Oh yeah? Well glad it's goin’ to somepony who knows its value! Looks like one mean bitch...you gonna name it?”

I had to stop and think for a minute since he had brought up a damn fine point. Like any self-respecting badass, every gun in my arsenal had a name to go along with its particular personality. It was a bit early to make such a big choice so soon after purchase but she had been christened in blood already...Greifenländer tradition demanded she be named to commemorate its birth as my new weapon.

”Hmmm…Krie. The Gryphon God of War.”

Chapter 4: Two Birds with One Stone

It had been a worthwhile trip into New Pegasus, that was for damn sure. In a matter of an hour I had managed to get an essentially one-of-a-kind weapon, a large heap of good ammo, make friends with an essential merchant in the area and get some TLC for my Sequoia find. Our journey had already taken two days since we set off East in the general direction of the Gap as the relay station was located just North of it. Firefly and I had both taken turns holding Krie looking over every inch of brilliant Greifenstahl construction while I answered every question I could about its design and origins. Needless to say, I was not expecting him to show such an interest in Greifenländer weaponry but I was happy to talk his ear off to pass the time.

Was actually a genuine shock when he proudly drew out a pair of customized Püger pistols from a shoulder holster hidden under his duster. True Greifenländer products through and through, they were odd toggle-slide operated pistols sporting six-inch barrels and came as an aesthetically inverse pair. One was fully chromed with complex swirling engravings marking every inch of metal and a mother-of-pearl grip while the other was jet-black with gold-inlaid engravings and a dusky rosewood grip. As part of the oddly angular and narrow magazine, there was a small colored and textured disc of sorts attached to the bottom to assist with reloading as they had originally been designed for use by a Gryphon’s talons. I could see that each of his mags came with either a white or black colored grip disc but he quickly assured me that he wasn’t so picky that he only put each color with its corresponding weapon.

“Yeah, these babies been mah close range defenders fer ah good five years now. Won ‘em from ah big dumb Talon Company Griff wit’ a loud beak that was bigger n’ his caps purse. Playin poker with th’ boys in 1st Recon teaches ya tah be cutthroat n’ smart wit’ yer cards so a loudmouth Griff was fuckin’ hilarious.”

“Huh...wonder where he got them then…” I wondered aloud, curious how ceremonial officers’ sidearms ended up in the talons of some random Griffin Merc.

“How n’ the hell am Ah supposed tah know?” He laughed proudly as he holstered his weapons under his armpits. “Never bothered tah ask th’ bastard after he slinked off after losin’ his Company-issued combat armor to me. Made a nice batch o’ caps sellin’ that fucker off too. Can only guess what his Company Commander thought ‘o him when he came back without his fuckin’ gear! Prolly got his head blown off...ah well, was a dumbass anyway so no biggie.”

Of course I was disappointed but...I couldn’t be all that surprised. The Greifenländer was such a faraway country to everypony that it was rare to find someone who had even heard of it let alone could appreciate it. In an era where you could only make it as far as you could travel on hoof in a day, I doubted this hella distant cousin of mine had even heard of our shared homeland. Still...officers’ sidearms on the Continent? That was odd…

“So...this Black Steel Facility, you said the SR used to run it a few years ago?” He asked me after a few minutes of silent walking. “Can’t say the name rings a bell but I was kept in the dark on just about everything West of Dodge Junction. Based on everything I know about them though, they wouldn’t just up and leave a Pre-War tech hive like that willingly. What the hell happened?”

“Ya might not believe me, but it were fuckin’ Raiders.” He replied looking up from checking the Mrk. I helmet tied to his saddlebag. “Was one of th’ snipers th’ Republic had watchin’ over that there outpost when they came barging in about three years back. ‘Bout forty of ‘em just went fer it wit’ Dart-88s n’ that feller’s .50 Big Macs. Place only had about six or so of them Tin Heads so the fight didn’t last all tha’ long. Was used tah relay info via radio to them bitches out East but Ah guess they just ain’t have th’ soldiers needed tah breach th’ Gap n’ take it on back fer th’ SR.”

I laughed in amusement at how handily they had been defeated by a bunch of drugged up crazies. “Fuckin’ figures...they’re always more worried about themselves then some far away comms station in the middle of enemy territory. Wonder what those chucklefucks thought as the Gap was closed off and they were surrounded by the NER...”

Firefly looked back at me, peering up at me from under the wide brim of his Oatstralian bush hat with a critical look in his faded blue eyes.

“Ya know, that there makes me wonder somethin’...why did ya come out here anyways, big guy? Gotta be another reason than just wantin’ tah kill some Raiders wit’ meh. Ah know Ah asked ya tah come but when yew heard about them hidin’ in some SR base, ya went from bein’ all blah to hell fuckin’ yeah. What gives?”

I took off my helmet and let it dangle off my side on a small hook attached to a retention strap. “Killing a bunch of Raiders isn’t anything to get excited about. What is is the fact they are chilling out in former SR holdings and odds are, they’ve only scratched the surface of what the facility holds. As a frontier listening and relay post, there’s bound to be a decent haul of tech in there hidden away behind MagLocks and reinforced concrete.”

“What, and yew wanna pick through it fer shit?”

“Well...yeah. Could be spare parts or a CFC for my Power Armor, shit we can sell in The Pile...maybe even working electronics so we can tap into their communications. I’m kinda curious just what shit they’ve been talking about since I went radio silent.”

“Heh, Ah can tell there’s no love lost between ya two eh?”

I snorted and rolled my eyes hoping by proximity he could feel the raw loathing I had for the SR just oozing out of my body.

“Pleaseeee...I’ve broken half of the Codex rules in the last six-months alone and have even sent over a dozen Ranger’s heads as gifts to the Elder. I can’t even fucking bear to think about what they’d do if they managed to get their hooves on the outpost again. Their radios are better than anything the Republic has, I can promise you. With even one relay station online out here, they would be able to coordinate an assault on the Gap with a lot more efficiency. I will NOT allow that to happen.”

He chuckled and smiled at the response.” Damn, guess ya are serious ‘bout th’ whole Fuck-th’-SR thang. Well that there makes two of us. Ain’t much love between me n’ the NER but Ah’ve lost good friends keepin’ them Tin Heads outa th’ West. This here’s mah home and Ah’d rather take th’ Republic than be trampled down by th’ SR fer a couple dozen machines we are somehow ‘unworthy’ of possessin’.”

“And for what it’s worth, more power to you Firefly. It’s good to meet someone with some kind of backbone for what he believes in out here...don’t meet too many these days who have any sort of reason to fight.”

“Wha’ and yew expect ‘em to? Most folks ‘round these parts are just barely scrapin’ by n’ don’t want fer nothin’ but food in th’ gut, ah roof n’ four walls and some sorta security. World be ah scary place n’ most are one sip o’ bad water or one cut from ah rusty nail away from dyin’ early. Not much hope in tha’ sorta life.”

“Oh yeah? Then it’s no different out West than it is back East. Unless you’re in some big ass settlement where those things aren’t such an issue, you’re on your own out here. Only people with any sort of fighting spirit are those with some kind of faith in their cause or community. So, that only leaves Tin Heads, a couple dozen towns here and there that are worth a damn and New Republic citizens. Anyone else who shows up with a will and a way are those one-in-a-thousand scavvers who manage to make a name for themselves out there. Aside from them...can’t really think of any others that have any sort of hope in this world.”

“Humph...guess ya gotta point there…”

After another few hours of straight walking we reached it. The facility was nestled safely near the foothills of the Canterlot Mountains which towered above with their snow capped peaks; the old capital city itself just barely visible poking out front the side of a particularly large mountain near the Gap enveloped in the Pink Cloud. Firefly was right, this place reeked of SR arrogance and Raider ignorance. The old SR flags with the symbol of an apple filled with cogs pierced by a sword were all but gone, replaced by the normal depraved decorations of any Raider gang like cages, diced up bodies, rusty metal spikes and mounds of random junk. It was a small facility made up of three buildings ringed with a high concrete wall topped with patchy barbed wire and a pair of gates facing South and West. A tall radio tower rose from the roof of the largest of the three buildings but none of the red airborne warning lights were visibly flashing meaning the power supply would have to be the first thing to look at. However, the smaller lights above the doors and a few lining the inside of the wall still glowed indicating there was still power at least. Overall, it was a decently defensible position that would require a solid plan of attack in order to take for ourselves without damaging any of the walls or equipment. Would make for a good outpost and a place to roost since it was in unclaimed territory and had plenty of essentials already in place

We slowly snuck around to a ridge that was on the far side of the compound that had a rundown shed of some sort and a once fenced-in area for storage. From this position we could see most of what was going on in the camp below without overly exposing ourselves. As we sat down and began forming a solid strategy for attack, the late evening sky started to darken forcing me to switch to the low-light setting on my helmet and put it back on to use the E.F.S. While I could have done without the low-light filter thanks to my keen predator senses giving me acute hearing and vision, one thing my raptor instincts didn’t offer me was the ability to see all enemies in a 500 meter radius regardless of being indoors or out. Technology was a useful addition to a Gryphon’s natural talents.

“Hmm reading about 25 in that little camp, with at least another dozen or so just kinda wandering about the general area probably acting as scouts. Or just off having a drug-induced rage, who the fuck knows or cares. Negative eyes-on HVT, likely target is inside the relay station itself. This is your show so you call the shots.”

Firefly growled in disappointment. “Damnit...okay, Ah got ah plan. Ah’ll go inside and knock the fucker out, yew take up overwatch from here wit’ yer big ass birb gun. When Ah send th’ signal, unleash all hell on them yuppy fucks. Ah’ll draw their attention from th’ relay station and hopefully, we can rout these here sons-o’-bitches. Ain’t givin’ it back to th’ Republic but it’s better empty n’ abandoned then bein’ some Raider den. Ah’ll be on frequency 301.7, keep in contact would ya?”

I nodded and set up my MG on a rock pile while Firefly slowly made his way down towards the compound, having swapped out his brush hat for the Mrk. I helmet. As he slid down, I pulled out an old 4.5x ACOG sight and attached it to the universal rail on my MG so I could get a better aim on what I was shooting at down there. The compound now brightly lit by the low-lights, I could see some of the Raiders clearly and I could feel revulsion in my gut looking over all of them. Grossly mismatched and patchy armor, rusty ass weapons and no sense of decency. (Or smell...decaying corpses reek for fuck’s sake…)

“Gods, some of these shitheads are fuckin’ UGLY...” I grunted to myself, keeping my big ass profile as slim and unnoticeable as possible on the ridgeline. “Gonna be a favor to me just to put all of ‘em in a fuckin’ grave…”

Just as I was starting to get bored of slowly panning my gun from right to left over the compound, I heard gunshots ring out in the camp as Firefly started to engage the bastards that were outside. Wasting no time, I started to unload on any that dared stand in full view of 1,200 rounds a minute feeling immense joy as Krie spat out hot lead. With the walls keeping them bottled up, tracking targets was a breeze and body after body dropped in the crosshairs of my ACOG sight. One belt of rounds later, ten of them laid choking on lead and blood while the rest either ran for cover or for nearby mounted guns. As they had an M2 and a Dart-88 crudely welded onto leftover mounts from the SR, the runners headed for the defenses were the first to go but not before they managed to lob an 88mm missile at me. It missed by a fair margin (my HUD didn’t even warn of any laser designator) and the sudden blast of light as the missile detonated against the mountain behind me seemed to daze the defenders. It was all the invitation I needed to slap a new belt in the tray and keep up the suppressing fire. All the while, I could see muzzle flashes coming from the doorway of the relay station as Firefly blasted away with his Pügers. Couldn’t have asked for a better distraction seeing as at least half of ‘em didn’t seem to recognize there was an enemy next to them as I kept their attention focused on me. Of course...the most regrettable fact was I only had 100-round belts to work with rather than the normal belt of 1,000-rounds that suppressive fire teams would normally have for this gun.

Before I was able to turn my sights on those hauling ass back to the relay station from the open Wasteland, one of them managed to outflank me in such a way that he slipped my notice on the E.F.S. In fact, I was so focused on spewing lead down into the compound that I almost didn’t notice the rounds he bounced off my armor from behind before he decided to charge and barrel us both over the edge of the ridge. The tumble down the hill was a minor annoyance being padded from the impacts by my armor, but a major annoyance was having Krie wrenched out of my talons somewhere on the way down.

As we landed in a heap at the bottom, I untangled myself from my own legs and pounced on my attacker feeling his bones crack and splinter under my weight. Without a second thought, I drew my Spec-Ops machete from my left shoulder and gouged the stallion's neck viciously with a snarl. Although there was no way he could have stopped the bleeding without an injectable health potion, I was feeling generous and fed him a bullet from my .454 a few seconds later saving him the long and painful way out. By this point, those who were left were starting to flee and retreat out into the Wasteland knowing the game was finally up for them.

“Fuck yeah! Nice work, Garand!” I heard Firefly say from nearby, glad he was able to deal with those last few Raiders inside the walls on his own.

“Yeah sorry ‘bout that, got caught off guard.” I said and picked up my MG from where it had been flung out of my talons by the tumble off the hill. “What ya wanna do about the stragglers?”

“Humph, childsplay…” He chuckled as he emerged from the gate with his odd bullpup .50 rifle. “Help me up would ya?”

He nodded towards the top of the gateway that was flat and wide enough to allow for a pony to stand on and I looked back at him a bit confused as I knew he had wings of his own.

“Look smartass, this here armor ain’t made wit’ fuckin’ wings in mind goddamnit. Ya gonna help meh snipe these fucks ‘er not?”

He had a point. I had seen his odd, insect-like wings on the second day of our bunkering down from the RadStorm when he had stripped down to bathe in a natural hot spring found deeper in the mine. However, the moment he started slipping his breastplate back on, his wings simply disappeared into his spine allowing his armor to fit comfortably on his torso. He had told me himself his ability to shapeshift had been negatively impacted by his Ghoulification but small things were still within his ability to change. With a sigh I stood near the gate, locked my armor joints in place and allowed him to climb up onto my back and then clamber from my head onto the top portion. He was set up and already firing away within seconds of laying down with his rifle, the muzzle brake belching out concussive waves of hot gasses as the .50 cal rounds roared across the Wastes punching gaping holes in anyone they touched. Hearing and feeling big ass rounds go off nearby never got old no matter how many years passed, minus those shot directly at me that is. When shot by a friendly though, the hearty thud of the muzzle brake doing its job was immensely satisfying to stand near and experience.

“Yeeeeehaw!” He whooped after blasting five mags’ worth of bullets, standing up and nodding with satisfaction at his work. “That’ll teach them yuppy fucks not to come back round these parts again!”

I returned back to my earlier job as a living stepladder and stood still as he clambered back down to the ground. I could only see a few of the gory kills he racked up as the rolling sandy hills blocked a lot from sight but he seemed really pleased with himself.

“How many escaped?” I asked soon as his hooves touched the ground.

“Eh, only ah few. Their big boss is out cold in th’ relay station but they don’t know tha’. Far as they know, he’s deader than dead and they have tah find ah new boss somewhere else. We’re two pro scouts fer ah Merc Company far as they care. They know this area ain’t theirs anymore and they’ll fuck off fer a long while.”

“Think they’ll come back? This is a really good place to turn into a home base or even just a defensible encampment and I’d hate to have to clear it out again.”

“Nah, Raiders out here ain’t got much spine left in ‘em after their head honcho goes down. If we ever come back and find it all occupied again, it gon’ be ah new gang. Giddyup now, we got ah shithead tah drag back tah th’ NER Embassy wit’ us.”

Turning away from the Wasteland and into the compound I could see the work of my talons everywhere I looked. Blood soaked the dirt everywhere, large dark spots forming under the lifeless bodies of ugly, scarred Raiders scattered about the grounds. Empty bullet casings gleamed softly in the muted moonlight filtering through the cloud barrier above and I felt immense pleasure at seeing just how much death Krie could dish out when given the right scenario to work with. It had been a 2 vs 40-something battle but Krie was worth at least a dozen soldiers on its own. Made me wonder what I could have accomplished with it and one of those Deep Pocketed ammo packs with the flex-chute during the War.

The inside of the main building was a sight to see with the Boss’s personal guards laying dead all over and the big fucker himself laying slumped over a desk towards the back of the room. While the walls and floor were rank with stale blood, piss and bodies, I noticed a metal door at the far end of the room that they had tried and failed many times to open as scratches and dents were all over the damn thing. As expected, the sensitive radio equipment was safe and intact behind a MagLock security door which presented a grand opportunity if it could only be opened somehow. The SR had encrypted radio frequencies but an outpost once owned by them would have all of them pre-loaded into the mainframe with at least 90% of the security clearances taken care of for me. I wouldn’t have a lot of time to listen in on anything before we had to leave for New Pegasus but there was no telling what they were talking about on the airwaves. That was of course, they didn’t catch on that somebody was listening...they were quasi-zealous in their behavior but they were still the top tech experts in Equestria.

I chuckled as we skirted around the bodies heading for the unconscious body of our target. “Jeez Firefly! You’re a fucking killing machine, my dude. Glad to see you can handle yourself in a fight like this. Most Mercs are useless when they have to fight alone so thanks for standing out. You and I work well as a team, not gonna lie.”

“Why thank ya, I take great pride in mah work! Had tah learn tah snipe n’ fight on mah own in 1st Recon as part of th’ training so Ah can more than handle mahself.” He said as he stripped the guns off the bodies in the room and began to loot the ammo boxes and random boxes scattered about. “Yew ain’t too shabby yerself! Most of them bodies belong tah ya after all! Ain’t one tah stuff mah body count when they ain’t mah bullets in ‘em.”

I grinned to myself at his compliment, glad to know he wasn’t the type to claim kills that weren’t his own. I left him to the scavenging while I turned my attention on the security door barring me from eavesdropping on the enemy. There was a hole in the wall directly to the right with several wires dangling out of it indicating the computer that controlled the door had been ripped out some time ago. This was going to be a bigger pain than it needed to be.

“Oh for fuck’s sake you pathetic dumbasses…” I growled as I looked at the place where the terminal used to be. “Couldn’t even be a little civil now could ya??”

“Wha’ ya up to, big feller?” Firefly asked from the other side of the room while he was hooves deep in a corpse looking for ammo. “Ya wanna break in there? Good luck...them doors are mighty hard tah open. Ah should know, been sent by th’ Republic tah plenty of places with ‘em all bolted nice n’ tight against folks like yew n’ me. Fuckin’ bullshit...”

“Well it wouldn’t be a fucking problem if these ignorant fucktards hadn’t gotten pissed off at the MagLocks and tore off the terminal controlling the goddamn door.” I growled back, giving the door a hearty punch just to make myself feel better. “Normally I could just plug my PipBuck into the damn computer and punch in my old security codes to override the lock. Now, I’ve only got two options as far as I can see...either try to cut through the locks with my torch or see if I can splice these wires and somehow connect it to my PipBuck. Might have been SR territory for some time but these things always have backdoors for the military.”

He stopped what he was doing long enough to come over and look at the situation closer. He took one look at the hole in the wall and then the scratched-as-fuck door before looking up at me with a laugh.

“Yew really wanna hear what them Tin Heads be talkin’ about, eh?”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I? I’ve been outta the loop for over six-months now and who knows what sorta shit they’ve been up to recently? For all we know they’re planning another assault on the Gap and the NER are totally unawares. It’s well worth the effort to get inside there, believe me. Intel can make all the difference and the last fucking thing we need is more SR wandering around the San-Palomino looking for people to massacre and loot.”

“Hm...fair point.” He muttered in agreement, looking over his shoulder at a mostly torn and burnt map of Equestria on the far wall. “Alright, just don’t spend any more time than ya need tah. We gotta long walk home and Ah wanna get started ASAP.”

“What, you want to walk at night now?” I asked with some surprise as he had insisted on making camp every time the ambient lighting demanded we switch to low-lights.

“Well, now that we done got this sonofabitch, Ah wanna go home now. Dunno ‘bout yew but the fight’ll leave me up and awake fer hours after this. Plus...yew really wanna make camp around ah buncha bodies in ah shithole like this?”

“Well...no…” I sighed, looking away from the door at the carnage we had wrought. “Guess you’re right...but we ain’t doin’ that twice in a row. I can put up with tonight and most of tomorrow but at some point I gotta sleep. Dunno what Ghoulification has done to ya so for all I know you never actually sleep but some of us gotta lay down once in awhile.”

“Fine…” He mumbled in response. “Just get on wit’ it already would ya? We’re burnin’ moonlight out here.”

Turning away from him, I faced the door once more and weighed the two options before deciding on the cutting torch. While this would compromise the security of the door permanently, it was a much more sure bet than trying to splice random wires together that probably didn’t even work anymore. My torch was not an inherent feature of the T-51 or even the T-60 but was an addition I had made while in Stable 39 repurposing some of the leftover maintenance equipment to run directly off my Crystalline Fusion Core. The StableTec employees on-site took great issue with my ‘theft of company property’ but really couldn’t do a damn thing about it with StableTec itself having gone dark the moment the Stable door closed. That, and who in their right mind would accost a 7ft tall murderbird in Power Armor? Few who tried were still alive.

Unlatching a portion of my right arm, I retrieved the small tool from a hollowed out portion of my bracer and unspooled its cable so I had plenty of slack to work with. Originally designed as a portable tool using a Spark-Pack for power, the flame produced by this thing was magical in origin and made cleaner cuts in a quarter of the time of traditional acetylene torches. The only major hurdle would be finding the bolts sealing it shut but I already had a method for that after fifty years of practice on these things. With one hand on the door near the top, I sat in front of it and used my free hand to give the metal a solid, hearty thump with my fist. The vibrations tickled my talons slightly through my armor and I proceeded to move my palm about incrementally as I continued to pound on the door. There! Just a few inches lower from where I started the vibrations felt decidedly different, much more subtle than the other few inches above. The only thing that could be absorbing most of the impact vibrations had to be a bolt.

After digging my claw into the metal to mark the rough general area of the bolt, I made my way down the rest of the door making enough noise to annoy Firefly and send him outside to wait. Being a minor relay station for the military, there were thankfully only three bolts to cut through rather than some bunkers I had encountered that varied from four to twelve. Tool back in hand, I flipped forward the safety switch and squeezed the long handle igniting the arcane flame at the tip getting ready to work. The bright magenta flame funneled through the nozzle of the tool glided like butter on a hot pan through the bolts and the shower of sparks from my work were varying shades of blue making for quite the lightshow. Finally, with the bottom most portion cut through, the door opened with no more than a gentle push letting me see into a room that hadn’t seen anyone in over three years.

“Alrighty...let’s see what we’ve got to work with in here…” I grinned, putting my torch away and moving into the doorway.

Immediately I saw that the small room would be way too small to fit me while in armor with the floor-to-ceiling radio equipment crammed inside. All there really was inside there were old machines, a table with some chairs and terminals, an old bookshelf stuffed with files and one of those small Gen. I Crystalline Fusion Generators keeping all the lights on. Once out of my armor I still found it difficult to cram my huge body into a room that would have been tight quarters even for a pony. It was one of the many downsides to being on the Continent...everything was designed around shortstops.

“Firefly? Get your ass in here! I need your hoof with something…” I called out in the direction of the door leading outside.

“Ya finally done?” He asked as he walked in, helmet now replaced with his earlier bush hat. “Ayyyy, good shit! Ah didn’t think ya would...them bitches be mighty hard tah get through.”

I gestured to the open doorway with a smirk of pride in my talent for breaking and entering into most things military and replied, “I won’t disagree with you on that one but I’m probably the best prepared motherfucker to handle these sorta doors that you’ll meet. I’ve got the command codes of over two dozen high-ranking officers I’ve collected from places like this that work on almost all locks and, thanks to a bug in the code somewhere, my old SR codes can’t be deleted from the mainframe. Anything that ain’t tempted by those, well...I just break in anyway. Leaves the door unable to function anymore but hey, better in my talons than other ponies’ hooves eh?”

“Ah suppose…all ah matter ‘o perspective ain’t it?” He shrugged, brushing past me and into the small comms room. “Woowee...lookie here at all this here radio shit…NER tech boys would’ve loved tah take this here place apart fer command.”

“Far as I can tell, it’s all original equipment so this place must have been a goldmine to the Rangers when they first found it. There’s some shit I could tell was clearly ripped out at some point and probably sent back to the Citadel but overall, all the infrastructure is pretty intact. More than enough needed to act as a basic comms station with a long-range antenna. I think we can get some valuable info from this but Imma need your help since I can’t fit in there to do it myself. Ya up for following instructions at all?”

He snickered and nodded, popping his neck and sitting down in one of the vacant chairs in front of a terminal. He did so with a practiced ease that only helped to confirm his time as an NER lackey. They would have spent plenty of time off the field doing mindless piles of paperwork and red tape. Seemed a universal headache for any army in any era.

“Ain’t mah first time behind one ‘o these, believe meh. Just lemme know what ya need me tah do, fatass. Heh heh heh…”

I rolled my eyes and brushed off his poke at my pride. There would be plenty of chances to find something to equally poke fun at with him later I was sure of it.

“Shut it you glorified Glowstick, now...look at the screen and tell me what it says. We’re looking to access the communications dish so that’ll speed things up a bit. We can look into all the other shit later when we have the time. Dunno when but it’s a definite must with this kind of equipment here. This place is offering a lot of good options for settling in and I’m loving it!”

He opened his mouth to retort something but decided against it, turning to face the monitor that only made the green glow of his face more glaring. The keyboard that sat before him was 100% designed for ponies with overly large buttons and a mouse cursor controlled via an omnidirectional joystick to the side shaped so a hoof could be placed into a recessed slot and moved around as needed to navigate around the UI. By the way he moved his hooves, I needed no convincing that he knew his way around StableTec computers.

“Hmmm...says here, ‘System Standby Mode’ in flashin’ letters. Looks like we gotta wake th’ bitch up...how we gon’ do that?”

“One step ahead of you. Go over to that Fusion Generator and slap the big green button on that says ‘Push to Close’, that’ll activate the fuses that route power to the dish. Must have wanted to reduce this thing’s radio footprint so the NER would ignore it so they intentionally reset most of the fuses and left this place on emergency power only. Not bad thinking.”

He followed my instructions and with a loud thunk that could be felt in my paws through the concrete, the generator began to hum much louder than before. Above us I could hear the radio tower extending up into the air and the whine of radio static over the speakers on the terminals let me know the radio dishes had calibrated properly and only needed to be aligned properly to access the SR radio network.

“Well..tha’ did somethin’ at least...what now?”

“Check the terminal again, what’s it saying? Anything asking for a password or even a command prompt sort of thing?”

“Uhhh…just seein’ ah buncha code n’ shit...loadin’...loadin’...loadin’...common ya piece o’ shit! Fuckin’ old junk…”

“It’s over 200 years old, give it a fucking break, Firefly…” I sighed, sitting back on my haunches to wait for the old tech to turn the fuck on.

“So were th’ fuckin ‘puters we used in th’ army! They were fuckin’ slow too but ain’t nowhere this bad...fer Celestia’s sake…”

I sighed and chose not to respond for the sake of keeping tempers down. Last thing we needed was to get into an argument over how slow old tech was relative to each other.

“Anything?”

“Alrighty, it’s askin’ if we wanna report th’ system shutdown tah somepony named...G...Grigory? Th’ fuck kinda name is tha’?”

“It’s Giorgi...the fucker in charge of the Order I was a part of for the last thirty-or-so years. Took over from the last Elder in a bit of a coup, kicked out some of the oldest Paladins and Scribes for having ‘outdated’ tactics and values which spawned a few copy-cat Orders with similar-ish doctrines but vastly different goals. In retrospect, I should have jumped ship there and then along with them...”

“Tha’s great n’ all but whaddaya want me tah do here, featherhead?”

“Just hit no…” I sighed, squeezing myself into the doorway as best I could so I had a better chance at seeing the terminal he was reading from. “We don’t need that Kyeshiv bastard knowing this station has all of a sudden gone live. I mean, odds are they’ll detect it in the network anyway but hopefully we have a bit of time before they catch on.”

“K, now its askin’ me tah enter ah password ‘er somethin’. What ya got fer me?”

“I’ll do you one better…” I sighed again, reaching to the backside of my PipBuck and pulling out the long universal StableTec adapter cord on its long coiled up tension spring. “Take this and plug it into the big round port on the right side of the terminal. Should be pretty obvious which hole ya gotta stuff it into.”

He took the cord in his magic and as he plugged it in he snickered, “Heh heh...tha’s what he said…”

I ignored him and looked to the screen of my PipBuck, happy to see the text change to ‘Communicating with the Host’ before giving me a full look at what he had been looking at earlier. The station was not yet broadcasting any signals but plenty were coming in from all over as the 360-degree spiral of radio dishes absorbed the invisible sounds around them. Most were labeled as NER frequencies in the somewhat extensive list of channels being picked up. There were a few unlabeled ones that I could only assume were Merc Companies or private merchants but the jewel of the bunch was designated Sierra-011.5. The Order, in their pompous overconfidence in their own technological prowess, only kept to one unified set of ranged channels at a higher frequency that almost all radios could not tune into without advanced equipment. With my PipBuck automatically feeding my old command code to the mainframe, I was already in the system and dialed in on Channel Charlie-Alpha which were designated for field patrols and scouting parties. All we had to do now was listen for a bit and see what juicy info came outta those speakers. Anything really could be of value, especially if what I had heard about their increased activity back East had any weight behind it.

“Sierra Romeo Bravo this is Sierra Alpha 2, please confirm?”

“Sierra Romeo Bravo confirmed. What you got for me, Base?”

“Priority-One message from Elder Giorgi to all Westbound Acquisitions teams: proceed to the rendezvous at Outpost Bravo, all prior tasks and orders have now been rescinded until further notice. Repeat, Priority-One rendezvous at Outpost Bravo.”

“Rescinded…? The hell is going on, Harvest?”

“Not entirely sure, Granite. Apparently the big boss found something in a military archive about a Pre-War base dubbed ‘Outpost Zeta’ near the Badlands, somewhere in the Ember Mountains near where they become the Ponyrennes. Seems to think it’s a worthwhile enough target to head there to crack it open personally again. He kept going on and on at the meeting about something called The Prototype or some shit, I dunno. If it’s anything like that cache of T-60s he found near Stalliongrad...well, you know. Those are the orders right outta the pony’s mouth so just make sure you get there in time, Granite. The Elder seems to think he’ll find Garand out there too somewhere near New Pegasus according to new intel. Only place the fucker would go has to be West so it makes sense he’d wind up there...probably getting cozy with the Republic and giving away all sorts of classified intel...”

“Uhhh...yeah, solid copy Sierra Alpha. I’ll gather up my boys and we’ll be there ASAP but it’s gonna take a couple days for all the patrols to RTB before we can take off. Anything else, Harvest? You know I hate being in the dark about shit like this.”

“Nah, that’s all the old guy said specifically for me to do. Gather all patrols West of Whinnyapolis and rendezvous at Bravo for an expedition West and South. Although the trip West is only if we get another confirmed sighting of Garand. Hold up…wait a minute...”

“What? Something new coming in?”

“No...you remember Relay Station X-Ray? The one near the Gap that Dusk and his boys got slaughtered at and we had to bail outta few years back?”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“It just came back online…”

I looked at Firefly with wide eyes at everything happening at once but couldn’t help but stay glued to the speaker. There was just too much to process for me to make any moves in that instant and I just stayed rooted to the spot in a mixture of horror and deep concern.

“We don’t have anyone out that way...oh shit, only fucker who could’ve done that is the Traitor! Fuck, cut the feed! He’s probably listening i-”

And with that the line went dead sending a cold shiver down my spine. Not only did they know exactly where I was at the moment, the fucking Elder himself was going to try and make a run at the Gap to try and get to something down near the Badlands. Giorgi was a coldhearted leader who never took any risks without calculating the odds...if he was making such a dangerous move with his own life, this Outpost Zeta was almost certainly hiding away dangerous technology. He had been dead right about that bunker housing the first T-60s that were produced just before the Great War and those three-hundred suits of Power Armor had proven to be twice as effective and protective than the 51s used for centuries. The find had only solidified his seat of power amongst the diehards with some even whispering he had learned of the location by some divine vision which was a sentiment he took a liking to. As to what he was risking a hell of a lot more than Stalliongrad for was up for debate...all I had to go off of was the ambiguous name of ‘The Prototype’. There were a lot of prototypes in the final year of the War for crying out loud...from medicine and alchemy to metallurgy, weapons and defensive tech there were any number of options to choose from. Could be a weapon of mass destruction like a death laser or it could be a mystical rejuvenation chamber. Or...it could just be an overhyped dud of a prototype that hadn’t even gotten off the design floor yet. That had happened too.

“Well...tha’ doesn’t sound good...” Firefly said while he helped strap down the stallion to the back of my Power Armor after I climbed back in. “Ah didn’t understand everythin’ but Ah ain’t no fool. They’s gon’ make ah run on th’ Gap tah reach that ‘Outpost Zeta’ ‘er whatever they called it. Any idea what in th’ hell that Prototype is they yacked on about?”

“Not a clue, my guy…” I sighed as we tried to find a creative solution for slinging Krie on my back with our quarry taking up a good chunk of space. “Could be any number of things...a weapon the Ministry of War or Arcane Science didn’t have time to roll out en-force, a new type of Power Armor like the T-60s they found...hell, could be armored vehicles for all we know. They’ve got a fair few of those already but you can never have too many, especially with how far you have to walk to get anywhere anymore…”

“Well...whateva it is, it ain’t theirs tah have.” He said firmly with an undertone of hatred in his voice. “Let’s take this bastard back tah th’ Embassy, tell ‘em about th’ impending attack, get our caps n’ then hit th’ road fer that Outpost Zeta of theirs.”

I looked at him with a bit of surprise that he would so willingly offer his help with this seeing as he had no reason to help being an independent contractor in his own right. He could just as easily pass on the info on the attack and then take up another Bounty leaving the NER to deal with the inbound Rangers.

“Wha’? Ah hate th’ Steel Rangers more than ya can eva know, Garand...if they be headin’ out this way, 1st Recon lackey or no Imma kill all them sons-o’-bitches. Besides...Ah’m kinda curious about what th’ fuck they’re after down there...whatever it is, it’s prolly hella important and that there is enough reason fer me tah say it ain’t gonna be theirs. Not if Ah can help it…’n believe me, Ah sure as shit can fuckin’ help it.”

“Heh...and here I was thinking I’d have to stop them on my own.” I chuckled, slapping him on the back feeling genuinely glad he had my back on this. “You seem to hate them almost as much as I do.”

“Well why in th’ fresh hell wouldn’t I?” He huffed back indignantly. “Damned bastards been pickin’ off good soldiers fer years now. That and they be mighty fuckin’ cruel to the civies out there. They even catch a whiff of them havin’ somethin’ they want...odds are that there settlement is gonna go dark. Seen it too many times in mah thirty years wit’ the NER...Tin Heads roll in, blood comes out. Every. Fuckin. Time.”

In a few sentences he had explained one of my greatest gripes with the Steel Rangers of today. While it was completely valid that their reputation for violence was completely in line with how we had been during the War, there were many aspects of the Rangers that had absolutely no foundation in our history. We used the best tech and gear, yes, but where they got the idea that all technology belonged strictly to the Order was absolutely beyond me. It had been a slow evolution of thought it seemed as the Scribes had told me how their philosophies on the legacy of power technological advancements had changed over the years. The foundational belief of the Order was that this post-apocalypse was the result of technology run amok in the hooves of too many with contradicting motives and objectives and it was our job to ensure that such dangerous things be kept safe; robbing what survived of their best chances at survival in the process. Computers, radios, manufacturing equipment, advanced weaponry...anything that took some brains to use and was beneficial was considered our property and we were duty bound to see its safe return to the Citadel for processing, cataloging and subsequent integration into our infrastructure. It was the known routine of the Order for at least a century before I joined their ranks. Of course..I had played some part in that for quite awhile.

I had joined up with the Rangers because they were the remnants of the life I used to live and for the first few years it wasn’t all that bad. The former Elder, a stallion by the name of Lion Heart, had led the SR through a period of relative peace with the civilian population of the East, a change that had led to more than a few desertions as hardline Rangers got pissed and went off to form their own splinter factions more in line with the old ways. In exchange for protection from Raiders and such, the Order of the Steel Rangers got access to a reliable source of food as well as an eager pool of laborers to excavate Pre-War locations in exchange for an honest days’ pay in caps. Of course...all this good will was wasted when Elder Lion died of a heart attack towards the end of my fourth year in the Order and an upstart hardliner named Giorgi took the Mantle of Leadership by unpopular vote. Over the next forty-five years I got to see the Order devolve from a redeemable enough Post-War faction to the utterly disgusting beast it was now. Bit by bit, Giorgi had dismantled all the good we had once done, forcing people to remember that the SR were still no better than any of the Raiders out in the Wastes. Only difference was a quasi-cult attitude towards technology and a hell of a lot more firepower and protection. Finally it became too much for me to handle...

“Believe me...I know.” I sighed with a growl at past misdeeds. “I ain’t about that shit anymore...it’s one of the major reasons I decided to kill some fellow Rangers and haul my ass out here to get the hell away from them.”

“Tha’ so? Mind if Ah ask wha’ happened?”

“Eh...there’s not much to say. The Order had been getting more and more aggressive in their salvage operations and I had started hearing about Fireteams gunning ponies down instead of just intimidating them into giving their shit up. Then one day me and some other Rangers were sent out to a little nowhere town called HammerVille because one of our informants had reportedly seen them using a full-blown Pre-War excavating vehicle. Got the orders while we were en-route that the town was to be flattened, all bodies burnt and the buildings demolished. We were to wipe it off the map for beating up a Scribe who was sent to order the surrender of the machine, an order they naturally got pretty pissed off with.”

“And yew just turned n’ shot th’ others?” He guessed rightly.

“More or less…” I sighed, not quite proud of how I handled it. “Moment the message ended and they turned their backs I killed all four of them with my talons and revolver. They were all hardcore Rangers who had devoted their lives to the Order’s cause and were going to follow orders without question...the Elder had put me with them specifically to keep an eye on me. He never trusted me and knew I hated where shit was going...thought he could brainwash me or something if I was around hardliners enough. That was about six-months ago now...killed a few more in that time before I started making my way over here. Couldn’t hide anywhere in the East that they couldn’t find and I didn’t wanna cross the Crystal Mountains to go North. Even if I did, I’d have to either talk to my dwarf cousins and negotiate passage under the mountains or, pass the Gap and then head for the Northern Passage at Bordertown. Too much work either way and a lot more walking involved.”

As we talked I finished work on welding the door into the relay station itself shut after tossing out all the bodies so the precious radio tech was out of reach of most. While the place would most likely see another gang set up shop here, at least it was one less room I’d have to seriously clean by the time I found the chance to come back and work on it a little. Without anything keeping us, we put the radio station behind us and began our long trek back to New Pegasus.

“Damn...well Ah’m happy yer against ‘em. Not sure on yer feelings on th’ Republic but Ah don’t get th’ sense ya wanna fuck wit’ ‘em. Right?”

“I mean, long as they don’t fuck with me I don’t have a reason to fuck with them back.” I shrugged, glancing up at the moon infused clouds for a moment. “I came here to quietly slip away and try to start a new life. Doing what? I’ve no idea yet, but this whole Bounty Hunting business seems like a pretty good use of my time as a source of income. Least until I can afford a good place to make my own and can fill it with my own shit for once. Be nice to finally feel like I have space to myself after spending so much time sharing space with a bunch of other people. Personal space is a concept I’d love to get familiar with again.”

“Yeah, that there be th’ truth. Livin’ in ah barracks can get old right quick… Least ya got ah good option at th’ relay station now eh? It’ll need a lotta work ‘n cleanup but hey, it’s got walls already built and tha’ there is half th’ battle right?”

“Heh, definitely a possibility...I dunno, I’ll have to see what this Outpost Zeta is like first before I make a decision. The station is a damn good place to start but I’d wanna start on it ASAP so I can get the bodies outta there before they start to rot. Or, wait a month or so for the Ferals to munch on ‘em down to the bones. For all I know Outpost Zeta is bigger, better and cleaner and thankfully we have a perfect excuse to go and find out. The Ember Mountains are a good Five days’ journey from New Pegasus so we’ll have plenty of time to place bets on what we’re gonna find there.”

“Ooooh...Ah like tha’ idea heh heh...never can say no tah ah good gamble. Yer on!”

* * * * * * * * * * *

The lights of New Pegasus were just starting to light the sky when we finally arrived back near the city. Instead of coming in from the East like we had done previously, we edged South around the perimeter of Freeside and into what was called Westside, the side of New Pegasus predominantly owned by sharecroppers. I vaguely remembered that the NER kept their Embassy inside the Stirrup itself and I was curious why he was leading us in such a weird direction rather than just passing through the East Gate.

“Sooo...there a reason we’re taking the long way around?” I asked after my curiosity became too much to ignore. “Couldn’t we have just taken the East Gate?”

“Used tah be that way but they made ah new Gate specifically fer th’ Embassy.” He explained as we meandered through scattered fields of Razorgrain and rundown townhouses. “Leads right into their lil’ corner of th’ Stirrup and they’s got full control over who goes in ‘n outta there rather than Mr. House’s robots at th’ main Gates.”

“Huh...when did that get installed?”

“‘Bout six-er-so years back. NER citizens can get passports tah enter the Stirrup but yew could only get ‘em at th’ Embassy. Whole thing was a security nightmare fer House it seemed since every applicant needed tah be escorted through th’ Stirrup tah reach th’ Embassy. After ah few runners got gunned down, th’ Republic ‘n House agreed tah make ah new Gate just fer th’ Embassy. Things been smooth as butter since.”

The Gate he spoke of came into view a few moments later after we navigated the ring of upper-class houses belonging to the land barons who owned the farmland in the area just outside of the high walls protecting the Stirrup. It was smaller and much less extravagant than the East or West Gates with their flashing neon signs but it was no less guarded. High scaffolding with sandbags and tarp canopies flanked either side of the large sliding gate in a half-rectangle shape forming a killbox in the center. It was my first time seeing NER troopers for myself and I was mildly impressed with what I saw. Standard service M16 rifles on most with 9mm sidearms and a pair of snipers in towers four-stories high with scoped M1A1s glaring out at the shantytown below. All wore matching khaki tan uniforms with bandanas and goggles to guard against sand in the wind and had dark leather breastplates painted with the symbol of a horseshoe embedded with three stars and featuring a Unicorn horn flanked by Pegusi wings in the center. While I could laugh at the use of leather in the age of firearms, I learned soon after I left the Stable that hides from certain new world species could be cured to a resilience that could stop even 5.56 depending on the quality and type. Could only wonder what our medieval past would have thought of such ‘advanced’ leather armor made in very much the same way...

“Heya Smokey! Got that Raider that's been given y’all hell!”

A soldier on the ground stood behind a high wall of wood and sandbags and acknowledged Firefly as he called out to him. A black helmet and armband proudly displayed MP in bold white letters and I spied a Desert Falcon pistol in a holster on his back leg. A lot of firepower for one pony but I couldn’t judge his taste for big boom toys. My distant cousins in the Underkingdom of Sand knew how to make big caliber pistols better than anyone save Ironshod and FillyArms.

“Well it’s about fucking time!” He replied, “Asshole’s been taking too much attention off the Gap and the SR seem to be making moves back East so it’s got Command nervous.”

“Oh trust me, that’s part of the reason we hauled ass to get here.” I replied, knowing the troopers up above and nearby would only see me for my armor and who it once belonged to. “Got some intel I think your Ambassador would wanna know.”

He nodded with a look of concern and looked at me directly. “Hm...mis-matched Steel Ranger armor, big ass bird...you must be that Gryphon the SR are looking for. Garand right?”

I looked at Firefly who nodded reassuringly before I replied, “Uh...yeah. That’s me, heh.”

“Hm, well I can see how you managed to kill so many Rangers on your own.” He laughed, seemingly happy to see me. “Boys on the Gap can tell ya they’re hard fuckers to take down so anyone who can kill fifty of them and still fight another day is a guy I want on my side if I’ve ever seen one.”

Firefly looked at me with surprise and mouthed, ‘Fifty?!’.

“Heh...well, I dunno who you heard that number from but it’s too high. Only killed a couple dozen at most...still a ways off from fifty kills.”

He seemed a little disappointed but shrugged, “Eh, twenty-something is still more than what whole Companies get their entire careers. Only ones with the shit to do any real damage to them are the Veteran Rangers...anyway, long story short you’re welcome around here and any friend of Firefly’s is a friend of the Republic’s whether or not you actually join us.”

He called over two other MPs to collect the stallion whom I had unceremoniously dumped off my back into a heap in the dirt and broken asphalt. “Thanks again Firefly, we’ll send someone inside to get you your money. Should only be a couple minutes...now, what did you guys wanna tell the Ambassador? Can’t let ya tell him in person for obvious security reasons but I definitely know how to relay a message. Goddesses know I spent enough fucking time as a runner back as a Private...”

“Learned thanks tah Garand’s old ties wit’ the SR tha’ they’s gon’ be launchin’ ah surprise attack on th’ Gap in about ah week ‘er so. Sendin’ ah buncha Tin Heads tah try ‘n capture Garand alive fer his betrayal so let yer CO know they should send some more boys tah guard th’ border posts.”

“And for what it’s worth...I’m sorry about that.” I chuckled nervously, feeling a bit awkward. “Really didn’t mean for them to try and follow me all the way out here...hell, I thought once they heard I crossed the Gap they would have left me the hell alone.”

He seemed surprised but nodded and replied, “Damn...you’d think after the last time they’d have learned to back the fuck off! Do you know how many fuckers we should be expecting…? Any tactical data that might help us out?”

I shook my head and sighed, “Not really...message was kind of indirect and they caught on that I was listening pretty quick. Considering they were commanding all Westbound teams to rendezvous for the attack, my best guess is a force anywhere between thirty to fifty depending on how many Fireteams they have out there. Definitely expect some Paladins and Sentinels though...more than that, I can only guess at since I dunno how big or small those patrols are these days. They know I’m dangerous so they won’t be taking any light weaponry and I think they said they’re gonna try for the lower half of the Gap, something about trying to get to the Ember Mountains to hide and regroup. Definitely wanna keep them from doing that.”

“Goddamn...well if this all turns out to be true, consider your name clean by the Republic!” Smokey said with a laugh. “It’s not a ton to go off of but some warning is better than none at all. I’ll be sure to pass the message along soon as the Ambassador is done with his appointments for the day. Thanks a ton! You’re probably saving lives today.”

“Heh, I’m uh...glad I can help. So...if you don’t mind my asking...where’d you hear about me?” I asked while we sat down to wait and the body was dragged through the gate to whatever hell awaited him in the NER justice system.

“Well I heard it over the radio about a week ago. Rangers been tearing places apart trying to find some traitor who was described as a monster of a Gryphon so naturally word got to us from fleeing refugees coming to the Gap. Word about you is all that seems to be on their mind at the moment. Even passed over some town with a working Water Talisman because there was not even a rumor of you being there. Never seen ‘em so hellbent on just one fucking guy. Er, Gryphon heh. Hell they even came up with a nickname for ya, The Gryphon Typhoon.”

“Jeez...that explains a bit. Do you know if the SR have any sort of contact with this Syndicate I keep hearing about?”

He eyed me warily and asked, “Why? You work for them too?”

“I just got to this area not even two weeks ago and I’ve been on the road with Firefly for most of it looking for that asshole we gave you. No, I'm not part of anything out here. And even if I had spent more time here, I’d take a hell of a long time choosing who I’d join up with and that’s if I go with anyone at all. I kinda like this whole solo shit.”

“Alright, alright...sorry. I dunno if they do or don’t, we don’t exactly get along with the Syndicate around here…”

“It’s ‘cause th’ NER has plenty o’ ponies in power that people are willin’ tah pay money tah see killed fer one reason ‘o another.” Firefly explained. “Syndicate deals in death n’ it don’t matter whose long as caps change hooves. Ah’m an exception ‘cause Ah don’t work against th’ Republic. Hell, if anythin’, Ah’m ah third-party contractor fer ‘em on th’ regular.”

“That you are!” Smokey laughed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. “This glowy fuck has done some damn fine jobs for the Republic...nabs every single bastard we send him after.”

“Yeah...he definitely knows what he’s doing.” I admitted, something the Ghoul beamed with pride at. “Fella kicks more ass than some Rangers I worked with back in the day. I’m happy I ran into him.”

The Gate squealed in protest as it slid open again and another MP emerged carrying a simple burlap satchel in her mouth. When she got near she tossed it into the waiting arms of Firefly who gave a hearty salute before weighing the bag in his hooves with a satisfied smile.

“Damn, this feels like more than y’all posted in th’ Bounty.” He said, peeking inside the bag of caps. “This is more than ya posted.”

“The Ambassador sends his regards, trooper! Also, word is rain is on the horizon so make sure you stay above ground level. Last storm flooded most of the crops in Westside...fuckin’ mess lemme tell ya.” The mare said with a smile before turning and leaving to take up her post near the Gate.

“Guess the fucker did something pretty bad in the time it took ya to kick his ass.” Smokey laughed. “Well...guess you’re back on the road. Was good seeing ya again, Firefly! Best of luck out there and be safe around your fellow Bounty Hunters and Hitmares. I heard a fight broke out in The Pile a couple days ago, a big one. Two Hitmares having some kind of honorable duel or whatever and one of ‘em fuckin’ died. Black Velvet I think her name was, not sure who the winner was. Either way, it looks like things are getting hot in your ranks so stay on your hooves out there. Good fuckers like you are hard to come by in this shithole of a world.”

And with that, he too returned to his post behind the large wall of sandbags with a friendly wave goodbye. Firefly decided to hold off divvying out the cash until we got back to his cave to rest for the night. After our hasty two-day march to reach the Embassy, I was looking forward to taking a day to rest up and prepare before we went South looking for a needle in a mountain range. With a rough area to look in, all I had to do was use the GIMP maps to try and spy the bunker from above. No easy task but it wasn’t the first time I had gone through this process in recent months as I had to raid unmarked bunkers in the East while on the run hoping to find .30 ammo for my old Carbine and spare parts to patch up my armor. Would take time and I was more than happy to spend it in a cool, dark cave with some SparkleCola and some good meat. That, and I had the best company I could ask for to help pass the time.

We started to make our way back home, discussing to ourselves what to leave behind and what to take in order to set up a proper ambush if we had to take matters into our own hands. I only had 250-or-so rounds left for the LMG but .308 was only going to be effective on anyone not in Power Armor, even with the armor penetrating rounds the Gun Runner had set me up with. My revolver was strong enough to punch right through the Kevlarn undersuit but in order to reach it, I had to get too close for comfort in order to jam my barrel into a kink in the armor. Course I could always resort to melee combat, something anyone in Power Armor seemed to ignore giving me an inherent advantage. That...or I could try fucking around with ancient Gryphon magic but only as a last resort since I was still a student in the art and lacked a proper teacher. Truly, the best option we had was Firefly’s Kyevshin .50 and the supply of AP-I and SLAP rounds he had stocked up specifically for Ranger hunts. That as well as a stash of anti-armor mines and remote plastic explosives that could be used to form a deathtrap.

“Yew ask meh, th’ best place tah try ‘n pull this off is in th’ Ember Mountains themselves. Not many paths in ‘er outta ‘em so we just pull close tah th’ Gap and listen to NER comms fer where they be goin’. Scout ‘em from ah distance till we can be sure which darn path they gon’ take then run like hell up intah th’ hills tah set up ah ambush.”

While it was less straightforward and aggressive as I would have liked, I knew that the two of us were under-armed for a full on slugfest with a Platoon of heavy-packing Rangers. His idea had obvious tells of NER tactics that I had heard about, their maximum use of what they had available and using the terrain and semi-unorthodox tactics to even the playing field with a technologically empowered foe. They wouldn’t have survived so long without learning their enemy’s ways and coming up with ways to deal with the SR’s brute force mentality.

“I don’t have any complaints.” I replied, acknowledging his tactful thinking. “The two of us wouldn’t be able to do much against even a group of stragglers that managed to make it through, not in a straight fight with what we have now. Kinda regretting not getting a Dart-88 or an XM-41...could really use the anti-armor support. God what I wouldn’t do for a Nad Pad with a 25mm...”

“Ey, ain’t no point in beatin’ yerself up over it. Tha’ there machine gun is worth more ‘n those damn things anyway...though yeah, th’ extra firepower woulda been nice. Ah 40mm HEAT grenade would do sum serious fuckin’ work on ‘em bastards.”

“How many you think you can gun down before we need to change position?”

“Hmm...record is three down before one of ‘em get ah shot off. Can only hope th’ minefield ‘n charges cause ah landslide on th’ path they’re on so we don’ have any tah clean up afterward. Hate fuckin’ stragglers.”

Our debate over possible scenarios continued until the sun dipped below the horizon and the cloud layer above looked decidedly darker and angrier than usual. Rain was either a near constant or a rare occurrence in the Wasteland depending on where you ended up living. Some places like Manehatten, being so far North, even got snow during ‘winter’ months and I had heard rumor of some places far to the Northwest like Seaddle that almost never saw a day without rain. I was pointing this out to him as we got just outside the abandoned mining town Firefly called home. The conversation came to a dead halt the moment I set paw in the ghost town however and I knew something was very wrong as my chain of various charms representing the Gryphon Gods began to yank sharply on my neck warning of impending danger. What kind of danger, I had no idea but as the MP guy had said earlier, some warning was a hell of a lot better than no warning at all. Just hoped to hell it wasn’t the SR already and whispered a hasty ‘thank you’ to the Gods for the heads up.

“Th’ hell we stoppin’ for?” Firefly protested after I had raised a leg to stop him dead in his tracks. “Ah can smell th’ Bullet Bourbon already!”

“No...don't fuckin’ move, Firefly. Something’s out there and I don’t like it.” I said as I turned on my low-light filter and looked around the dark, empty town full of dilapidated wood buildings, minecarts and surrounded by endless piles of rock from the mine.

He growled in annoyance and likewise donned his own helmet, the dull red lenses lighting up softly as he too turned on his night optics. We stood back to back for a moment, spinning in a long, slow circle on the spot double checking our surroundings for the danger but found no signs of life. Even a quick glance with thermals showed nothing but warm sands from the day’s sun and not much else. I was grateful for the warning but...for the love of fuck I wished they were more direct with what they were about. Could be SR, could be a roaming pair of Hellhounds, could be an entire Merc Company after my bounty. Knowing there was a danger was almost worse in some ways when there was nothing else to go off of.

“Ah don’ see anythin’, Garand. Ya sure somethin’s out there?”

“I don’t see anything either but I know someone is out there. We’ve been gone awhile so they had plenty of time to find a good place to ambush. You go high and cover my back while I sweep the town. Stay in radio contact and lemme know the moment you see something. In this sorta case, I’d rather be proven wrong than right.”

He nodded and started to climb to the top of one of the buildings using a cleverly disguised makeshift ladder he seemed to have set up for just this sort of thing. After he was at the top with his sniper’s eyes combing the area for a target, I started to look around the immediate area with Krie raised high. Building after building came back clean and empty of any life and as I continued my cautious searching, rain began to fall from the sky in a downpour. I kept looking around, taking care with every step as the ground became a muddy bog and continually seeing nothing being highlighted by my low-light filter or even E.F.S. While I couldn’t explain how the damn thing could tell friend from foe, I knew from experience that it worked on just about anything that lived and breathed. Right?

Rounding a corner to peer down an alley between two buildings, a shot suddenly bounced off of my right pauldron and whizzed off as it ricocheted into the stormy night. My body ignited with adrenaline as I recognized the scary impact of a very large bullet and I was then knocked onto my back without even a moment to look for the shooter. The blow was rather small but it packed enough punch to knock me on my ass using my own weight and the sloppy ground against me.

“Yessss! I finally found you, you fucking feathery arse!” I heard a mare hiss with glee in a Canterlot noble’s accent as I rolled backwards and got to my paws faster than a bird my size had any right to.

“Congrats, ya found a giant fucking bird in armor in the middle of the goddamn desert...who the fuck are you anyway?” I growled, looking down at the small mare wearing Model-4 combat armor over a battle scarred upper-class dress and levitating an MRAD rifle by her side, the barrel still smoking somewhat from its previous shot in the pouring rain.

The mare started to laugh and look at me with a wide smile of glee on her face and the eyes of a killer flashing dangerously above her Cheshire Grin. It was a shrill laugh, the kind you only heard out of a deranged mind and it became obvious who I was looking at. Killer Queen...such an odd but fitting name for a psychopathic sadist. If she had her way, she’d probably mangle me like any Raider would if what Firefly said was anything to go by.

”Who, me? Oh, I’m nopony darling...I’ve just come to nab that juicy price on your ass like Fate demands. Now you can come along peacefully or…..” She growled as she aimed the rifle at me. “I’ll send you to the Steel Rangers in fuckin’ buckets! Makes no difference to me darling...although if you resist I wouldn’t hate you for it he he. I do so love a nice, tender Griffin steak…”

My anger and disgust thoroughly enraged, I snarled and drew my machete seeing as moving for Krie with her so close would be problematic. “You'll fuckin’ die before that happens you little freak.”

She started to laugh ecstatically, seeming overjoyed to see me gearing up for a fight. “Ohohohoho yes, yes, yes! I love it when they try to fight back! Makes the job so much more pleasurable and enjoyable. Common boy...let’s dance!”

For such a small chick in a lavish dress, she moved quickly and evaded my first few slashes with deft movements; returning the favor with another shot from her rifle from behind her right shoulder still floating in her magic. The round caught me square in the chest but shattered on impact with the pure Celestium breastplate, the sound resonating like a gong even above the noise of the rain. Not to suck my own dick but...I was fast, a hell of a lot faster than anyone could expect out of someone my size but this little shitstain was like fighting a tornado. For every thrust and slash she responded by hurling large rocks at me, the effort and complexity of her combined tactics something I genuinely felt worried about being able to counter. My armor could take the rocks but if she was any kind of smart under that bloodlust, she was packing APs in her .338 and those stood a decent chance at penetrating. Anything wearing T-51 was at risk which sadly meant 40% of my body was potentially vulnerable to her bullshit.

After a few more failed attempts to gouge her life out with my machete, another few rounds deflecting off my armor, I decided to switch tactics and try to catch her off guard. When she went to duck under my next attack, I angled my fist and smashed it into the building next to me, taking out as much of the supporting wall as I could. The resulting partial collapse of the old house caused enough confusion and ruckus for me to try and slip back out of the alley and out to where Firefly could do some work. Hardly an orthodox move but she was an unorthodox bitch so really it was tit for tat at this point.

I had only a moment to breathe before the collapsed house was thrown aside and the psycho little bitch strode out into the central street. A second later I felt an invisible set of hooks bind my limbs to my sides and lift me into the air as the air around me sparkled with her magic. Had I been alone, a talented telekinetic as her would have fucking scared the shit outta me but I felt rather calm. Amused even at the dumb mistake she had made by giving up her safe place out of the line of fire. Long as she relished her easy victory, I was safe.

“You stupid, pathetic excuse for a Ranger…” She sighed, shaking her head like I was some kid who had fucked up a simple task. “When they told me you had twenty-three confirmed Ranger kills to justify the stupidly high price on your ass, I thought I was actually going to face a real challenge...what a lame ass performance. I’d ask for a refund but I think I’ll take your legs for dinner tonight. Tin Heads’ll pay me double if you’re alive but they didn’t say a goddamn thing about you needing all your body parts to get paid.”

“Alright, alright...you got me.” I laughed, seeing her take up my own machete in her magic and check her reflection in the mirrored surface. “Must feel great for a little shrimp like you to be so big and scary with your magic. You even know how to fight without that stump on your head? Sure you can dodge but I seriously doubt you could forever.”

“Darling are you serious…?” She barked with laughter. “I beat you fair and square and what do you do?? Who in fuck’s name do you think you are that you can just bitch at me for using magic against you? I was born with it, you weren’t and that means I win. Were you waiting for me to say I was wrong and should ‘play fairly’?”

It was my turn to laugh in her face and I looked at her with dead serious eyes. “Nope, I was just waiting for you to fuck up and fight me in Firefly’s line-of-sight!”

All at once she realized how the tables had turned as her eyes went wide with realization and she flinched but it was too late. Firefly popped off a shot that just caught the edge of her right pauldron, sending it flying off into the darkness and causing her to lose focus and drop me from her magic. The .50 cal had not hit her shoulder directly as she still had a leg there but a portion of her dress had been torn as well leaving only the scrap of her sleeve still held in place by her bracer and the main body under her breastplate. I could only guess how much the joint got bruised by the impact but however much it was, it was far from enough.

Ow! Fuck! That goddamn bug!” She hissed in fury and pain, pointing her rifle towards where the shot came from while dropping me in her lapse of concentration.

“Oh hell no!” I shouted and quickly dove on her, sending her shot wildly off target.

“Gah, get off me!” she growled, her horn lighting up again angrily.

I snarled and grabbed her horn in my talons, the small thing barely fitting in my hand as I bellowed out, “Go to hell you freakish bitch!”

With an angry yank, her horn snapped right off in my hand near where it met her skull. As I did, I was blasted off of her by a massive explosion of raw arcane energy as all the pent up magic she had just been building up went off at once. Even with my ears protected from loud noises like explosions with the auto-dappening effects of the helmet’s microphones, I could still feel them ringing as I got back to my paws. Blood poured freely from the stump on her head and oozed thickly from the enamel cone in my hand...could only guess how painful something like this was but it was less than what she deserved.

“M-my h-h-horn!!!” She howled out in pain, getting to her hooves shakily and clutching her bleeding stump while trying to blink blood and rain out of her manic eyes. “T...this isn't the end, you understand me! I...I’ll get Athena on you! Y...yeah... She'll take you in. She’ll take you in and then, then I'll watch as the SR hangs you like a gutted deer, Gryphon!”

“Uh huh, whatever you say…” I shrugged as I crushed her horn to pieces in my talons in full view of her deranged gaze. “I’m letting you off with a warning, dumbass. Fuck off and tell your Syndicate buddies there’s more than broken horns waiting for them if they try something like this again. Now get the fuck outta my sight before I change my mind you deranged cuntwaffle...”

She bristled in silent fury but took my offer and left, leaving her discarded rifle behind in the mud as she vanished into the haze of rain engulfing the area. From my right side Firefly appeared with his rifle and began to aim down the sights when I pushed his muzzle out of the way with a shake of my head.

“Leave her…” I sighed, wondering what the Syndicate would do, if anything, in response to my direct challenge. “Moment that chode of a horn snapped off, all the fight left her. Let her deliver the message and let’s hope that’s enough to limit the people after my Bounty.”

“Not ah good call, pardner…” He replied, shouldering his gun with a grunt of disgust. “Killer Queen ain’t yer normal, run-’o-th’-mill crazy. Puts them fuckers we put down at Black Hills tah shame wit’ her bullshit...she ain’t ah pony tah take lightly. We don’t call her th’ Cannibal ‘o th’ West fer nothin’.”

“I know, but humiliating a Hitmare like this should send a strong message through the ranks. If we just kill her here, odds are any message will just be lost to the empty desert. Let her bring her crazy on...I’ll be better ready for it and she won’t have her magic tricks to hide behind.”

“If tha’s what ya wanna do...still, if she’s serious abou’ giving up this here Contract tah Athena then we’ve gotta lot more tah worry about. ‘Specially wit’ Queen knowin’ where Ah live now...”

“Oh? Friend of yours?” I asked seeing as she seemed more than familiar to him.

“Heh...more like th’ epitome of th’ Hitmare business more like!” He laughed grimly as we made our way into the dry interior of the mine. “Bitch has been in th’ top five fer longer than anyone alive...they say she’s an ancient Desert Ranger but Ah dunno. Only met th’ bitch once last year at th’ Freeside Hot-Shot competition but Ah hear she’s got ah rifle tha’ shoots big ol’ explosive rounds hella fuckin’ far ‘n usually takes her shots from ah mile away. Even that fancy Power Armor ‘o yers ain’t gonna hold up.”

“Great...so when you say ‘explosive rifle’, just how big we talking here…?” I asked, climbing out of my armor and enjoying the smell of rain wafting up through the tunnels.

“Ah dunno, just heard it ain’t like anythin’ ya see ponies carryin’ around these days. Punches through body armor, walls, floors...whateva it is, was made fer takin’ down heavy armor from ah long ways away. Heard her explosive rounds’ll kill ya within ah 30-foot radius.”

I sat down near the fire he brought back from embers and considered the possibilities which were rather few given the criteria he had mentioned. It was a Barnette rifle for sure though whether it was a 20mm or 25mm model was unclear. Certainly had to be the mare-portable 20mm version as I hadn’t heard of any team members and those, while hella rare, were still possible to find in this day and age. The ammo...well, that was another problem but one I didn’t care to think too hard on. The Gun Runners seemed to have everything so 20x89mm ammo was probably well within the realm of reason.

“20 or 25mm” I said, leaning back against a boulder nearby the firepit and setting my paws in front of it to warm up. “Has to be.”

“Whateva ya say, big guy.” He chuckled, already several swings into a whiskey bottle. “Either way, we gotta take off ASAP. Dunno how Queen found mah hidey hole but she’s gonna blab about where it is tah Athena th’ moment she makes contact. Don’t wanna be here when tha’ happens, believe me. Any ideas on how tah find th’ Outpost?”

“Well...soon as I’ve had a nap, I’ll check the GIMP maps over the Ember Mountains and see if I can spy the roof of this bitch somewhere in there. Probably will take a good while but I’m sure I’ll find something if I look hard enough. Even if it's entirely underground there has to be a surface-level entrance and exit to the facility and they tend to stand out a bit on aerial photos.”

“Tha’ so? Done somethin’ like this before have ya?”

“Eh...ya wanna get anywhere in this world, you have to dabble in a lot of shit to stay alive. Yeah, I’ve done it a few times before now on my way here from the East. My carbine was a thirsty gun and ammo could only be found in old ammo dumps and supply bunkers. Of course...most of those places were kind of easy to find since they were either out in the open or were in suspiciously shaped buildings. How I’m gonna find one in a mountain range…? Well…I’ll let you know when I come up with an answer.”

He seemed a bit disappointed but shrugged and made himself comfortable with a spare bottle and some canned goods.

“Aftah all tha’ walkin’...Ah’m happy fer th’ break. Just don’t take too long...we’re on th’ clock with Death again so Ah hope ya find it quick.”

“Don’t worry…” I flexed my paws and stretched out feeling great to be out of my armor and be able to lie down finally with some SparkleCola and canned meat. “Mmff...it’s an old military base, not like it’s gonna get up and walk away on us. You think your friends guarding the Gap will be able to manage them?”

“Hmm? Oh...Ah dunno tah be honest wit’ ya.” He admitted, looking up from licking the inside of a can of corn. “It’ll depend on ah lotta things like where they hit ‘n who is on duty when they do. Very least..Ah think we can expect there tah be less of ‘em if we has tah fight ‘em ourselves.”

“Heh...can only hope you’re right about that…” I sighed. “Be a hell of a fight either way.”

Chapter 5: Long Night of Silence

It had been two days since me and Firefly set off for the enigmatic Outpost Zeta. With the help of GIMP and over seven hours of staring at the Ember Mountains, I had found the telltale signs of a military base concealed inside a small hollowed mountain. It had been well hidden, I had to give the EAF that much credit, but the dead giveaway was the snaking dirt road leading up to its front gate. The trip was gonna be a long slog South and it would take us almost a week to get there even at the pace we traveled at. We only took what we thought we would need including food, ammunition, the explosives and a healthy supply of SparkleCola for my poor addiction.

“Gawd...can’t fuckin’ believe tha’ bitch Killer Queen attacked us in mah own goddamned camp... I swear she’s gettin’ more ‘n more ballsy as time goes on.” Firefly growled as we started to come up on our first town in days. “Ah swear, as soon as Ah get back tah New Pegasus Imma hunt her bitch ass down and kill ‘er. Not only is she trying tah kill meh wit’ no Bounty tah mah name but now she’s gone ‘n violated mah private property! Th’ Syndicate will have ah field day wit’ this shit…”

“Oh yeah? You guys have rules for this sorta thing?” I asked, continually surprised by how organized the killing game was out West.

“Oh hell yeah!” He replied with a chuckle. “Ain’t no infighting allowed in th’ Syndicate unless there be an active Bounty on ‘em and th’ Shadow Brokers do ah good job lettin’ ponies in the network know if they got on in their name on th’ Boards. Professional jealousy tah th’ point o’ murder ain’t allowed, just plain bad fer business ‘n their reputation.”

“And you’re sure you don’t have a Bounty on your ass?”

“Hell fuckin’ naw! Ah pay mah handler’s fees in full, Ah keep mah nose clean ‘o shady shit and Ah sure as shit ain’t eva had beef wit’ another in th’ network. If Ah had ah Bounty, woulda seen it on th’ Board when we left fer Black Steel or been told by ah Shadow Broker when we was droppin’ tha’ sonofabitch off at th’ Embassy.”

“Jeez...the more I learn about this Syndicate, the more I’m amazed…” I admitted.

“Oh yeah? Wha’ about?”

“Well...everything! Way back East if you wanted to take a Bounty you had to go from town to town looking at the notice boards, ask bartenders or get approached by shady individuals in a back alley. Out here, it’s a giant well-oiled machine with actual rules, a hierarchy and shit. I mean you guys basically made Murder Inc. It’s...well, it’s pretty fucking neat not gonna lie.”

“Heh...yeah, Ah guess so.” He chuckled, making sure his bush hat was in place as we approached the entrance of the town which was surrounded by a wall of old train cars and giant boulders. “This here is Pale Tree. Nice enough lil’ town but they ain’t too friendly towards strangers. Can’t blame ‘em wit’ Old Appleloosa only thirty ‘er so miles off…”

The ‘gate’ was really just a ramp leading up to an old freight car with a pair of extra thick sliding doors but for what it was, it wasn’t all that shabby since having a redundant door would create another obstacle to getting in. As we approached, the pair of guards standing on either side of the ramp raised their hooves to stop us while a few on the roof of the train car eyed us from behind burlap sandbags with the muzzles of their rifles poking out.

“Whoa there, hold up you two.” The guy on the left said when we got close. “What brings two weirdos like you to Pale Tree?”

“Jus’ passin’ through.” Firefly responded, puffing up his chest a bit so they would notice his NER branded armor. “We’re headin’ further South from here ‘n this here is th’ last friendly town wit’ ah saloon worth it’s spit.”

“That right? And what about your Steel Ranger buddy?” He asked, eying me with a mix of disdain and suspicion.

“I’m with him.” I replied with a grunt, annoyed that my armor had to be so associated with the Order and all its many, many issues. “Ain’t here to start shit, we just want a place to sit down for a bit and get off our paws. Er...hooves.”

He looked between Firefly and I for another few seconds before he sighed and pounded a hoof on the sliding freight door which then promptly opened from the inside as a stallion pushed it open.

“Don’t stay too long.” He grunted, pointing to the open door. “We ain’t the kind that likes strangers around here. Last thing we need is for the Steel Rangers or NER to start thinking this little town is now suddenly theirs. Get what you need and get outta here.”

We brushed past him with silent nods and walked through the freight car that seemed to double as a bunk room for the guards into the town proper. It wasn’t anything special, just several dozen makeshift houses thrown together from scrap like most settlements, but the saloon Firefly had mentioned was definitely a Pre-War building being made of wood to a higher standard of construction than everything else around it. Ponies on the street fled to the awnings of their porches or indoors entirely and watched us warily while we made our way to the saloon which was loud and lively with music and laughter.

The moment we entered, the main room stuffed with old wooden tables seating a dozen or so stallions and a few mares went silent. I had removed my helmet just to try and show I wasn’t here to shoot anypony and instantly regretted it as the smell of chewing tobacco and stale cigarette smoke hung in the air like tar making my eyes water. We stood in silence staring back at everyone else who stared right back at us with mixed expressions of surprise and concern. Even the lively old piano that had been playing as we walked in had gone silent and the poor mare playing it hovered her hooves over the keys as if unsure what to do next.

“Th’ fuck y’all lookin’ at?” Firefly growled. “If we was here tah shoot up th’ town we would’ve started at th’ front gate, dumbasses.”

There was a general murmur amongst them but slowly they all returned to their drinks and cards while the pianist went back to her earlier song filling the air with music and the general noise you’d expect from a saloon. We approached the main bar and while Firefly hopped up onto one of the stools, I scooted a few aside so I could sit beside him easily looking over the bartop that only came up to my chest. He plopped down the satchel of caps we had gotten from the Embassy in front of the barkeep and asked for a bottle of their finest while I gingerly handled the pony-sized menu of items from their kitchen. I was a bit surprised to see things like Molerat stew and Fire Gecko steaks on the menu but was grateful nonetheless to have come across a place that actually cooked meat; in the end I ordered four servings of the stew as the portion sizes were meant for people much smaller than me. The barkeep warmed right up to us the moment Firefly flashed the cash showing that anyone could ignore their feelings as soon as there was a profit to be made.

“So...Ah was thinking. If we manage to, you know, get a hold of that place and keep it from th’ SR shit heads, I say we make it ah home base.” Firefly said after he had a few shots from his bottle and I had gotten a cooking pot full of stew which made me perk up and look at him curiously.

“Wait, ‘we’?”

He nodded, which made me laugh a little and feel more comfort than I expected.

“Well alright then, I can’t say no to that sorta arrangement. But...I can’t lie, we're gonna need more than just me and you though to keep that place safe. It’s not like it's going to be the whole SR army that shows up, just a Platoon at most, but even then we’d still probably need one more on our side to take it and hold it.”

“Well...what do ya propose?” He asked as we paid for our food and drink and slowly made our way back towards the door. “Paletree is ah ways out but th’ Syndicate is sure tah have a Broker planted here. Can try tah find ‘em ‘n send ah request fer another Merc or Hunter tah come out here ‘n help out no questions asked.”

I shook my head and put my helmet back on as we exited out into the hot desert sun and meandered towards the building down the road that had a crudely made sign of a gun dangling over its door. “No...don’t want anyone else knowing where this place is. That, and I’m not exactly inclined to accept help when there’s a Bounty on my head that’s worth more than anything we could offer whoever actually showed up.”

“Eh...yeah, guess ya gotta point…” He sighed, adjusting the brim on his hat to keep the sun out of his milky blue eyes. “Plus...would take ‘em at least as long as it did fer us tah get here puttin’ us behind schedule…”

“Mhm...no easy way about this. We’ll just have to somehow handle this between the two of us...heard you and the barkeep talkin’ while I was beak-deep in that stew. Anything we can use?”

He shrugged as he entered first. “Not much, Says she's been hearin’ about th’ SR actin’ up just past th’ Gap ‘n somethin’ abou’ lone scouts in Power Armor wanderin’ around th’ area, probably lookin’ fer ya. Thankfully she's got more brains than most folk ‘n promised she ain’t seen ‘er heard of ya in her life if anypony comes lookin’.”

The shop was small and frankly too small to try and stuff myself through the narrow, rickety doorway so I stood outside while he went inside and checked over their inventory for anything we might be able to use. Wasn’t long before he returned looking a bit disappointed but carrying a few boxes of 7.62s and a couple landmines.

“How about the Outpost? Any rumors about something like that in the area?”

Firefly shrugged again. Said she ain’t never heard o’ it, or really anythin’ military this far North of th’ Badlands so that there was a bust. Though she did say tha’ the next big town has ah stallion who goes out on scrap runs every now and again, maybe he'll know somethin’.”

“Damn...expected as much. Well, let’s hope we can find where that dirt road leading up to it is before the Order makes it past the Gap or one of those scouts finds it first. That or worse. Would hate to get cornered by that Athena chick before we even hit the Embers.”

Firefly put his purchase in one of his saddlebags and replied. “Indeed, tha’ last one is probably th’ most scary tah consider. She ain’t one tah take ah Contract from th’ SR...or hell, even the NER ever since she started workin’ mostly fer tha’ Green Peace bastard in New Pegasus but ya neva know. She’s definitely th’ kinda mare worth takin’ the price on yer head.”

“Take your word for it my guy, I wouldn’t fuckin’ know either way. I haven’t even been here a month yet so I’ve had no time to get used to names and shit out here.”

Without much left to look at and good food in my gut, we decided to start hitting the trail again so as to not waste any more time; time that would only serve the SR’s goals. The guard seemed almost surprised to see us leaving only an hour or so after arriving but didn’t say anything as we swung around the edge of town and continued making our way towards the distant peaks of the Ember Mountains. After twenty minutes of silent walking and contemplating what lay ahead, Firefly stopped in his tracks and looked at me with concern.

“Wait wait wait, this outpost Zeta. How in th’ fuck are we gonna get in? Fer such ah secret base tha’ not even yew knew about it, Ah would expect it tah be closed to all but th’ highest security clearances. Ya gonna cut through th’ door?”

I chuckled, kinda glad he asked actually. “Don't worry about getting in, I have a few old access codes I’ve been hoarding that’ve gotten me into wayyyy more secure places than this. And even if it’s restricted to Generals and above, I’ve got those codes stored away too. Getting in should be the easy part.”

“Heh glad tah hear it! Nice tah see someone has a brain in this Wasteland, dunno how many fuckers Ah've worked wit’ who couldn't even hack ah fuckin’ alarm clock, ‘er even how tah open ah can ‘o corn er somethin’.” Firefly said with a hearty laugh and a big smile. “Also...uh...wanted tah say thank yew fer saving mah ass from Killer Queen. Ain’t many tha’ can say they beat ah proper Hitmare. And ya humiliated her!”

I chuckled and grinned at the heartfelt compliment. “Heh...well thanks, Firefly. Really, it wasn’t a big deal. She was gonna shoot you and I couldn’t just sit there and watch her gun down my new friend without fucking her shit up. What kind of friend would I be to let that sorta shit happen, eh?"

He smiled and we continued walking, talking idly about our favorite weapons and arguing over the finer points of ballistics and which gun was suitable for which situation. Soon we came upon an old Pre-War ghost town similar to the old mining town just outside Firefly’s cave. I wondered why it was abandoned rather than being refurbished but got an answer the moment my Geiger counter started to tick angrily as we got closer. With the sun starting to dip below the clouds painting the sky in dusk colors, we decided it was as good a place as any to shack up for the night. Even though it was irradiated, barrels of glowing green sludge scattered around with no rhyme or reason, it wasn’t enough to be dangerous to either of us. I had gained a high tolerance to arcane radiation thanks to playing guinea pig for the Stable’s resident doctor who had experimented with rad resistance while Firefly seemed delighted at the sight of the barrels.

“Mmmff...ain’t nothin’ make ah Ghoul feel better than some good ol’ Rads!” He laughed as he dug his hooves into the waste and smeared it on his face. “Wooooboy this feels great…”

“Heh...yeah, I’ll take your word for it…” I called back to him while sweeping every collapsed building and alleyway for any signs of life and stomping on any Radroach I could find. “This place seems completely abandoned, seems like a good place to camp for the night.”

“Oh yeah? Yew fine wit’ all them Rads in th’ air?” He asked as he joined me in what had been the town hall which was only partially collapsed and had enough room inside for the two of us plus a bit more with a roof over our heads.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me. Stable I came from was all about genetic science so when the doc asked for volunteers to try out some experimental gene therapy to try and make ponies better adapted to radiation, I offered to be the first. Places like this aren’t all that dangerous to me now although I still need to be careful how much time I spend in RadZones. Besides...it’ll be nice to get off my paws finally, they’re killing me.” I said before climbing out of my Power Armor and enjoying my newfound freedom to stretch. “Ahhhh...fuck that feels so much better...”

“Yer just fulla surprises, ain’t ya?” He chuckled while getting himself comfortable on a bedroll and starting the small campfire he had assembled between us.

“Yeah, well it’s nowhere near as strong as your immunity to Rads but it definitely helps out. Anyways...I was thinking. When we take over the outpost, what are ya gonna do Firefly? Gonna stay with me fulltime or just fuck off back to your cave? I know you said ‘we’ when talking about the Outpost but...well, you’ve already got a cozy mineshaft for yourself that’s a hell of a lot closer to New Pegasus than this place is gonna be.”

To my surprise the Changeling blushed a little and tried to hide his face. “W..well Ah mean, Ah wouldn't mind. Bein’ all alone in th’ Wastes ain’t all tha’ fun. Not tah mention lonely...”

I grinned and scooted a bit closer to him. “Ohohohooo, is the badass Bug all of a sudden suddenly showing his soft side?”

The Ling growled a little and blushed even more, his glowing green face shining a bit brighter as irradiated blood flushed his cheeks. “S...shut th’ hell up Garand, it been ah long while since i've shacked up with someone so don’ be thinkin’ anythin’ of it. If Ah wanted sum action mah best bet would be one ‘o th’ casinos on th’ Stirrup. Course...not like any of em harlots would bed ah Ghoul anyway...or ah Changeling fer tha’ matter.”

I nodded and raised my SparkleCola in solidarity. “I hear ya on that, Firefly. But hey, you're free to stay with me at Outpost Zeta once all this shit is said and done. Besides, it’ll more than likely be a hell of a better place to sleep than an old mineshaft, even one with a big ass Nexus Crystal chilling in the middle of it.”

The Changeling nodded, the blush in his cheeks still present, “Yeah...might as well. Place like that would be a helluva badass base tah run ops outta. Sure, it’s a hella long way from New Pegasus but...well, like ya said. When ya compare ah military base tah some mineshaft in th’ desert, there just ain’t no contest. Even if its ah small bunker ‘o sorts, it’ll prolly have good bunks tah sleep in and an armory tah loot.”

I chuckle and smiled at him.” There ya go, now you're using that brain of yours.”

He growled a little but nodded in agreement. “So what’s yer plan,Garand? Don’t act like Ah can’t notice ya when yew start thinkin’ real hard ‘n good about somethin’. Yew got somethin’ in th’ works in tha’ bird brain ‘o yers and Ah wanna hear it.”

I sighed and looked at him.” Honestly, I just want….I wanna stop the rampant corruption of the Steel Rangers and, somehow, turn them back into an honorable group again like they were for a short time under Elder Lion. That or...maybe even make my own Steel Ranger sort of group, something like the Corps I fought in back in the day. The Wasteland needs people willing to help, not rob, murder, steal and hide away with other likeminded shitstains. It's complete bullshit.” I growl and add more kindling to the fire.

“The Order is not the saving grace they like to make themselves out to be. They’re a bunch of technophiles in shiny suits of armor that they stole from the remnants of the past who got it in their heads that they’re some sort of guardians of the future. We used to be the superheroes of Equestria, hell the whole of NEATO. We were the shining knights in armor who kept the free world free while following a reasonable set of rules...not a bunch of psychos with a warped perspective of reality thinking all your tech are belong to us.”

He chuckled but nodded with understanding in his eyes, the campfire light only slightly dimming the bright green glow of his body. “Well if tha’s wha’ ya wanna do Garand, Ah’m wit’ ya. Both fer th’ sake of th’ Wastes as well as th’ sake of fuckin’ over them Tin Head bastards. Wit’ someone like yew at th’ head, Ah don’t doubt yer gonna lead ‘em in th’ right direction.”

“Heh...that’s a pretty big statement to make towards someone you only met two-ish weeks ago. Ya sure you’re willing to follow along?”

He sighed and laid back on his bedroll, rubbing his eyes and staring at the wooden ceiling above before replying, “To tell ya th’ truth, Garand...if yew hadn’t reminded meh of th’ timeframe, Ah woulda swore Ah’ve known yew forever.”

“Oh…?”

“Mhm...Ah mean, yew ‘n I agree on a lotta shit, yer ah damned fine soldier an’ Ah enjoy talkin’ to ya abou’ shit. Ah’ve gotten along wit’ yew better ‘n any of th’ jackasses in 1st Recon. Not tah mention ya tear ass like nopony Ah’ve eva seen.”

I blushed modestly at his stream of compliments not used to being the subject of praise like that. The Order treated me like a big, dumb bird who was only good for his giant size (at least compared to ponies) and as a glorified pack mule for being able to carry four-times as much as anyone else. Anytime I tried to toss in my two bits on anything they would command me to shut my beak and let the brainiacs do all the thinking and planning. To get this kind of treatment from essentially a stranger...well, I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy how it made me feel.

“W-well then…” I stammered, caught too off guard by his compliments to think of any clever response. “Um...well damn. That’s probably the nicest thing someone’s said about me in a long, long time...thank you, Firefly.”

“Ay, think nothin’ of it big guy. Ah might be ah right ol’ bastard o’ th’ Wastes but Ah ain’t no liar. Ah mean every word. Yer someone Ah want by mah side when shit hits th’ fan.”

“Heh...well with where we’re going, there’s gonna be a lot of shit hitting that fan so it looks like you’ll get your wish.”

We sat there chatting more by firelight for another couple hours until one of us realized we were starting to cut pretty deep into our sleep budget and forced a pause on our chat. While he snuffed out the fire so as to keep curious eyes in the night from finding us easier, I set my PipBuck to beep loudly if the E.F.S sensed something malicious within 100ft of our camp. He was entirely correct...curling up on my bed roll, I felt closer to him than any other military chump I had been forced to work alongside in a very, very long time. We shared a lot of ideals and philosophies which helped out a lot of course but the greatest factor was just how willing he was to listen to me. The SR seemed to get a kick outta marginalizing me and summing me up as a giant, dumb brute. Anything I had to share was immediately strangled out of my mouth...and then they had the fucking gall to call me out for not speaking up more! Firefly though...I could tell he cared. Asked constantly for stories of the War and let me speak for minutes at a time without a single interruption or back-hoofed comment trying to undercut me. Before I even realized it, I had drifted off with a smile of contentment on my face knowing I finally had a real friend again.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Rise n’ shine, it’s asswhoopin’ time!”

I cracked my eye open reluctantly, still half asleep and annoyed at how little sleep I felt like I got. Firefly was busy shoving me with all his body weight just to try and rouse me which I found rather amusing.

“Grrr...I was havin’ a really nice dream ya know…”

“Yup! An’ now it’s high time we got our asses movin, handsome. Gotta lotta ground tah try ‘n cover today!”

I blinked a few times, stopping mid-yawn when what he said finally clicked in my groggy ass brain.

“Hold up, handsome? That came outta left field...unless this is my first time noticing…”

He blushed a bit, the green in his cheeks glowing brighter for a second as he looked away.

“Uh...well...ahem…”

“Eh, think nothing of it.” I laughed, flopping my blankets off and stretching out. “I’ll just take it as a compliment and run with it. Unless you actually meant it?”

“Um...w-well…”

I bust out laughing, not in mockery of him or his compliment but at just how...cute he looked when he was flustered. His reaction to my prodding gave me all the answers I needed and I was actually pretty happy to get such a compliment. Life in the Stable opened up my horizons more than I expected a sinister government-funded social experiment to be capable of delivering. At the end of the day...didn’t matter what they had between their legs as long as they knew how to show you a good time and besides...there was an exotic allure to the bug that was rather intriguing.

“H-hey...no need tah get all ‘ha ha’ abou’ it…” He whined, pulling his bush hat low over his face in embarrassment. “Was tryin’ tah be serious…”

“Heh, heh, oh don’t worry about that, Firefly. I wasn’t laughing at you. No...heh, I was laughing because I just...didn’t expect ya to say something like that so...well, nonchalantly.”

“Neva been hit on by ah guy before?” He asked, peeking from under the brim of his hat in curiosity.

“A few but it’s been quite awhile. Don’t get a lot of action running death machines for the Order and they’re pretty anti-gay shit in the ranks. Buncha pussies…”

“Ah...didn’t know ya swung tha’ way too…”

“What? Swing towards the dick-on-dick side of life? Totally! Well...not exclusively. Will never say no to a good mare or Griffin puss if its offered but only a dumbass says no to some good boy puss too.”

He blushed extra hard at that and bit his lip, the tip of one of his fangs poking out from underneath and stood up quickly.

“Hoo boy…” He whistled with a nervous laugh. “Um...l-let’s jus’ get back tah packin’ up shall we?”

I nodded with a chuckle leaving him to stew in his shy embarrassment while I checked the load on my weapons and outfitted my Power Armor for travel. Handsome eh? Well...that was certainly a nice thing to hear from someone after months on the run and living solo for far longer than that. Was I suddenly head over paws for the guy over one little compliment? Not at all...but it did open up some possibilities that would be neat to explore a little as time went on. An ex-NER DeadEye turned Bounty Hunter Glowing One Changeling with an eye for the guys...there were worst friends to make out here.

After I finished climbing back into my armor and checked the response timing of the joint servos, I sat down to wait as the Ling finished compartmentalizing his bedroll across his back and slung his .50 and a new rifle I hadn’t seen him use yet on top. He had snagged it from his personal collection back at Glittering Caves, a weird but well-constructed hybrid of a gun that was the fuck child of a classy lever-action and an M16 service rifle. In reality, only the dusky orange wooden stock and brass plated lever plus a little of the original lower frame was all that remained from the lever-action while the upper, barrel, forestock and sights came from the M16. The oddest part of this odd crossbreed? The retention of the mag well and standard-issue 30-round 5.56 clip. It was no .45-70 beast but it had the benefit of fitting a lot more ammo that was a lot cheaper to obtain with the ability to feed from regulation M16 mags to boot. It was a weird ass rifle but...well, he was a bit of a weird ass himself so it worked out in my mind. Still...

“Soooo...those rifles you've been using. Where’d ya get ‘em? Not gonna lie...been centuries since I’ve seen a Kyevtian rifle anywhere this far South and that uh...lever-action of yours? That’s definitely a fuckin’ first for me.”

He chuckled and pointed to Krie which was magnetized securely to my back. “Same place ya got tha’ there big girl, th’ Gun Runners! Th’ lever is one of ‘em Runners Customs they been makin’ fer ah good few years now, perfect match fer th’ Wasteland weirdo lookin’ fer somethin’ neat ‘n shoots good, common ammo that ain’t too hard tah find. Next time we stop by there, remind meh tah show ya them funky Runners Customs ‘o theirs. Now, th’ big girl? The there was about as rare ah find as yer big ass bird gun. Said they nabbed it offa some merchant who said he came from th’ Far North but ain’t been seen ‘er heard from since. Damned shame if ya ask meh...whoever them Kyevtians are, they make some damn fine guns.”

“Heh...uhh...yeah.” I laughed nervously as faint snow-filled memories flicked by my mind’s eye. “They definitely made some hard hitting sons-’o-bitches like their 14.7mms or those damned RPGs everypony seemed to get their hooves on so easily…”

“Oh? Yew tellin’ meh ya fought them bastards too?” He asked with some surprise, looking up from ogling his own weapons.

“Firefly, I’m well over 300 years old…” I sighed. “Equestria sent my ass from the Badlands bordering that old desert Kingdom to the freeze-your-balls off Great North of the Duchy of Crystal on the border with Kyevshiv to the jungles and savannah of the Zebrican Empire...try finding someone I didn’t shoot and get shot by.”

“Heh...well touche Ah suppose...still, what ya think of ‘em, eh? Ain’t too shabby right?”

I chuckled and admired the odd lever-action he currently had strapped to his back. “Oh for sure! You definitely have one of the better personal collections I’ve seen so far and that includes those asswipes with the Order. Not to mention you’ve got better taste than some of those yuppy fucks… She gotta name?”

He beamed with pride and patted her on his back. “Skullsplitter! For when ya need tah get rid of tha’ killer headache. Ain’t no self-respectin’ DeadEye gotta gun he ain’t personally named ‘n baptised in blood himself! Er, herself too heh. Plenty ‘o ladies in th’ army.”

All things packed up and ready to go, I took point and exited the building looking around to see if the coast was clear. Aside from the occasional buzzard flying overhead wasn't anything out here waiting for us.

“Alright lets get outta here and back onto the road. Still got one more town to stop by before we hit the Embers.”

“Already walkin’ big feller. Th’ Rads here be givin’ me enough pep tah rival ah Cola high so Ah’m rearin’ tah go.”

Firefly followed me out into the sunlight, his hat brim pulled down to block it out. Today was graced with an uncommon sight: an actual gaping hole in the cloud layer above us. It was actually kind of incredible to see the sun itself for once after...I didn’t even know the last time I had actually seen the sun and blue sky. The Pegasi seemed adamant to perpetuate the cloud cover across the whole of the country so giant gaps like this one were rare indulgences.

“Damn...can’t tell ya how long it’s been since I last saw the sky…” I sighed, taking a few moments to let the warm morning sun heat up my feathers before plopping my helmet back on. “Easily like 10 something years now…”

“Tha’ so?” He asked in response, glancing up at the gap in the sky with a shrug. “Happens kinda regularly around these parts...sure th’ winged bastards’ll try tah plug th’ holes up but it can take ah few days ‘er weeks. Don’ think they have towns up there anywhere nearby so who knows, migh’ just get tah have th’ sun around fer awhile!”

“Heh, well...not gonna lie, I’m not all that used to being in the heat. Well...this kinda heat.” I replied, gesturing to the empty expanse around us. “Sure most places are warmer now than they were back in the day thanks to the climate getting molested but it’s been a long time since I’ve been in this desert.”

“Oh yeah? How long?”

“Eh...fifty-something years? Give or take...even then, I basically ran my way outta here to head East. Soon as I made it to the curve in the mountains we’re headed for right now, I beelined East and hauled ass.”

He laughed before furrowing his brow in thought and turning to me curiously.

“Yew said somethin’ abou’ bein’ in ah Stable? Take it that sucker be way down yonder?”

“Yeahhh...Stable 39 to be exact.” I sighed, mixed feelings about the place still lingering even after so many years. “It’s in the bottom fourth of the Western Ember Mountains right off the Badlands. I...well, I was stationed down there with my Squad, the Plague Birds as we had been named by the enemy. Nopony knew the place existed until the day of the Great War when me and my team were sent with a couple other Squads to try and escort the Southern Front’s leadership down to the safety of the Stable. Got ambushed on the way there and the fighting followed us right up to that giant fucking cog door...lost every member of my Squad trying to protect those fucking idiots...well, everyone who was still around by that point.”

“Oh? Wha’ happened next?” He asked with curiosity burning in his milky blue eyes.

“Heh...well, might be hard to believe but when those sirens started echoing up and down the Badlands valley, all the fighting stopped immediately. They had never gone off before so we all knew it was the real deal...everyone, and I mean everyone, piled into the Stable if they could reach it in time. I held the door until the last possible second...Balefire erupted just as the door was rolling into position. Next thing I knew...I was living amongst a mixed population of Zebras, Ponies, Griffins and a small smattering of other species thrown in the chaos. The world was getting raped and everyone outside that door was a lost cause so all the soldiers who had just been at each others’ throats now had no reason to keep on fighting, especially with all the foals who had been put in there a week before.”

“Damn...wha’ was it like? Ain’t eva seen ah workin’ Stable before so Ah’m curious what they look like when they ain’t abandoned ‘n rusty.”

“Well...lemme tell ya, it wasn’t all that fun. Took a few weeks for the soldiers to accept the reasons for war were all defunct and even afterwards for a year or two there was the occasional violent spat between a Zeeb and someone with the Equestrian Armed Forces. But in all actuality...it could have been a lot worse. The place had thankfully been built with Griffins in mind as all the hallways, doors and most rooms were larger than normal but even then, I was the only one there who was a genuine Gryphon.”

“Gryphon...Griffin...ya see, Ah hear th’ subtle difference in tha’ but…”

“Don’t worry too much about that, it’s unlikely going to matter much these days and I answer to either usually. But, if you wanna know, Griffins are the smaller birds that come from Griffinstone and are sometimes called ‘Continental Griffins’ because they emigrated from the Greifenländer thousands of years ago to the Continent. On the other paw, you’ve got Gryphons who are Greifenländer natives.”

“So yer ah Gryphon then?” He asked, looking me up and down gauging my height.

“Yep! If by a slim margin as far as our normal height goes. Seven-foot is hella tall by Griffin standards but I’m actually pretty short for my kind. Average is around eight-and-a-half and that’s just for the Sentients amongst us. You head into the Kogel mountains and you’ll start running into Ferals who can get as big as twelve-to-thirteen feet tall.”

“Jeeeeeez…” He whistled, looking above my head as if trying to picture how gigantic a Feral Gryphon could be. “Damn...guess yew are kinda small aren’t ya?”

I rolled my eyes and slugged him in the shoulder as softly as I could which still sent him stumbling a bit trying to regain his balance. With sour memories starting to rear their ugly heads, I decided to take full advantage of the distraction and change subjects before he could remember where we were originally talking about. It wasn’t that I was afraid to talk about Stable 39...but after 150-ish years spent cooped up inside it, I wasn’t ready to take a trip back even mentally.

“So, think anyone else around here might be after me? 150k in profits is a dinner bell for a feeding frenzy if I’ve ever heard one” I asked, making him pause a moment to consider.

“Well, ‘less Kay-Q gives th’ Bounty up completely, no one from th’ Syndicate will fuck wit’ us. But, that don’ mean there ain’t independents working the Wastes, especially ‘round here; not tah mention Merc Companies. Then ya got any Raider wit’ ah gun and some know-how. Other than th’ usual suspects...Ah dunno. Maybe a few underground Hunters but that's abou’ it.”

I growled in frustration. “Goddamnit...as if one psycho with a gun wasn’t bad enough...”

Firefly chuckled.” Well thankfully Ah got some contacts that owe meh some favors. Could always try ‘n ask ‘em tah join up with us. Long shot but hey.”
I sigh and put my helmet on. “I fucking hope so. Or else it's going to be just you and me against the SR and that’s not exactly a position I wanna be in for much longer.”

Author's Note

Hey All, Sorry for the long Wait for the Chapters. It takes a while on editing on my end, plus i have a habit of trying to get multiple chapters done just to get some reading content out for you all. if you have any question about anything in my story please dont be afraid to ask, im more then happy to explain it. Thanks again for reading. Two more chapters should be up as soon as they are done

Chapter 6: Post-Apocalyptic Fireworks

It was another day and a half before we saw any signs of life again as we reached a small place called Junction-11 dwelling under the towering shadow of the Ember Mountains. I was vaguely aware of the place as I had bypassed it decades ago during my sprint to the Gap and all I knew of it was it had been built around an old train stop, the last before the station in the Badlands. Unlike Paletree, this place’s defenses weren’t nearly so ‘polished’ and were mostly made up of hodgepodge wooden fences patched with sheet metal and topped with rusted barbed wire; enough to keep out smaller predators and give the town some semblance of security but not much else. Their front gate however was a near replica of the one from Paletree being formed from a singular train car with ramps leading up and down from each side door. The guards on duty were armed with only pistols and a couple of scoped hunting rifles and seemed uneasy as all hell when we approached, guns raised high and shaking in their grips.

“H-halt! Who are you and w-what’s your business here?”

“Ah’m Firefly ‘n this here be Garand.” Firefly said in as friendly a tone as he could with guns pointed in his face. “Ain’t here tah cause trouble, just need ah few supplies an’ we’ll be on our merry way.”

“A-and like I should believe you?”

“Like we told Paletree, if we wanted to start shit we would have opened fire already. If you haven’t noticed Firefly’s rifle, we could’ve blasted you guys from a mile away and you wouldn’t have even seen it coming.”

The slightly trembling turquoise mare glanced at the .50 on Firefly’s back and her eyes went somehow wider with both fear and understanding. Despite the irritation that came from being accosted like this at every town we stopped by, I did feel a bit bad for her. It was really unlikely the poor chick had ever had to face off against anything like the two of us so I had to give her props to standing her ground even as she was. Those above kept switching between looking down at the two of us and doing their job looking outwards across the Wasteland for any real sign of danger.

“I-I see…and…w-what sort of supplies are you l-looking for…?”

“Some ammo, Cola ‘n maybe ah hot meal. Been on th’ road fer awhile ‘n Ah could use wit’ ah stiff drink. Any small town worth its salt gonna have ah saloon an' Ah knows y'all gots one. Last good one fer miles.”

She glanced at her compatriot standing atop the train car who shrugged before looking back at us and nodding timidly towards the open door. Her nerve still held and I was tempted to congratulate her on it were it not for the fact that me speaking suddenly could easily send her nerves over the top. Last thing I needed to do was piss off the local militia...if anything, it was my goal to try and redeem the Steel Ranger name by any means possible.

“G-go on in then…just…please…don’t do anything stupid, please? We worked hard to keep this place peaceful and safe, the last thing we want is to lose that. This place is decades in the making and we're just trying to survive out here like anypony else.”

“Believe me lady, we know the value of stability out here. Nothing to fear from the two of us unless one of you people starts something.” I replied, moving onto the entrance ramp and past her.

As we entered the small trade town I was amazed by the lack of anything here. While Paletree actually had the population size and buildings to justify being called a town, this place had just a few rough houses, a roughshod saloon, the old train stop the town was named for turned sheriff’s office, and a gazebo looking thing turned into a building with a rough sign stating ‘Town Hall’. The defensive walls were punctuated with the occasional makeshift guard tower here and there made of old telephone poles, rail ties, sheet metal and burlap sandbags. More town guards armed with rifles stood atop them, safe in the shade of their tower with bleary eyes looking over the boring emptiness surrounding us. Other than that, there stood an old dead patch of sun-bleached trees just outside the makeshift town hall as white and withered as Death itself. It was a small town with ponies who wanted nothing more than to make a living and be left to themselves, just like any other settlement not claimed by some larger faction like the Order or NER. 'Quaint' was a decent word for describing it I suppose but 'boring' was also a top contender in my mind anytime I came across one of these little bastions of civilization in the middle of nowhere. Of course...boring and quaint were probably more than enough for these ponies and living behind some walls in a likeminded community was always a safer bet than trying to scrounge a living on the outside.

In the back of my mind I was hoping that if and when the SR broke through the Gap they would ignore this little town. Not that I had any sort of connection to it outside of some vague memories of taking the train from the Southern Front but it would just be a damn waste of life to destroy such an insignificant little place. Just looking around the place there was nothing all that special to it that would warrant an SR team to swing on by for their 'reclamation' efforts. The fresh water this place was built around (like any good desert oasis) was more than likely a well fed by an aquafer deep below ground and their only source of power seemed to be the set of a dozen or so solar panels lining the long roof of the train station turned Town Hall. Could only guess they fed to a central power bank inside as shoddy wiring extended from the station along equally shoddy power poles and into each of the residences in town. Solar panels were a dime a dozen to the Order so a tiny ass town with a few bolted to their roof was hardly worth the time. Well...least in my opinion it was...

We stopped by a tree closest to the town hall and I took off my helmet to look at Firefly, setting it to dangle from its hook at my side. Taking it off seemed like the best gesture of non-hostility I could manage since it let people see my face and exposed me to danger. Aside from that, there wasn't a whole lot I could do about how imposing I looked and if I tried any harder I would just end up leaving my armor behind and just go around in my fatigues and plate carrier. Of course...that would mean foregoing near-invincibility against most forms of physical damage and with a supposed legendary Hitmare on my trail, the last thing I wanted was to give her another advantage to exploit. Was a big gamble letting my head be so exposed as it was if what Firefly had said about her rifle and range of engagement was true. After sharing my large temperature-controlled canteen together, I looked around us and then at my Ghoul companion.

“Alright, so this time you hit up the bar and I'll hit the general store looking thing I saw over by the sheriff’s office. Aside from info, anything you want from there?”

“Naw. Place this small ain’t gonna have much worth gettin’ outside ‘o information an’ even then it ain’t much ah chance there too. Odds are, we be in ‘n outta here within th’ hour. Best check wit’ th’ sheriff ‘n see if he ain’t heard no rumors.”

“Yeahhhh…” I sighed, looking around the dinky little town without much enthusiasm. “Little place like this probably doesn’t venture far from home. Anyone with sense knows mountain ranges tend to be hiding nasty shit that is left well enough alone. Most they probably hear of the outside world is hearsay from traveling merchants which...not exactly the most reliable source of intel to begin with.”

Firefly simply nodded and made his way to the saloon as I meandered towards the general store, a ramshackle building built against the backside of the old train station. As I looked around I noticed ponies looking at me, stopping in their tracks and peeking from their windows to look at the gigantic murder bird walking freely in their midst. Unfortunately any chance my hope that they weren’t familiar with the SR was completely gone by the way they looked at me, a look I was growing all too familiar with. I had the misfortune of being as conspicuous as physically possible for someone to be making me impossible to miss and drawing all eyes in my direction. The only solace I could find was that it drew attention away from Firefly who I hoped would have an easier time because of it. Comparing a Glowing One Changeling and a 7ft Gryphon in Power Armor…I honestly couldn’t decide which would be the more odd one out of the two.

Entering the store, which was gratefully rather lofty with a high ceiling and large doorway made from a repurposed railcar door, I noticed a bell ding from above as the door slid open. Along with your usual makeshift shelving and wooden crates, there was also a radio playing the same tired old soundtrack the Wasteland had been subjected to for hundreds of years on repeat. Behind the counter in the back stood an old burly grey Unicorn stallion with black hair and an eyepatch over his right eye, his body crisscrossed with enough scars to give even my sorry hide a run for its money. He had an air of strength and confidence oozing thickly from where he stood and I actually felt a bit of apprehension while looking at him. He looked like he knew how to fight, the scars only providing proof towards that end and he was only a head shorter than me making him one of the largest blokes I had come across in quite some time. Even if his pelt and mane were greying from age, I could see his muscles rippling under his coat packing enough punch to scare even a Hellhound. This made me a bit more wary about how I acted around him as he would be more of a handful than most if things turned into a fistfight.

“Well hello there, stranger! I hope you aren't here to start shit with our little town?”

I shook my head, trying my best to give a friendly, non-aggressive smile. “No sir, I am not. Friend and I are just here to get some supplies for our trip, maybe get some info from the barkeep and sheriff about the area and head on out. Got a long road ahead of us and you guys are the last place to top off on shit before it's nothing but open desert again.”

I could visibly see the tension in his shoulders relax as he seemed content that I was no threat to him or his shop. “Well alright then! Welcome to Grab and Go, best damn little general store South of that shithole Old Appleloosa. What can we get started for ya today?”

I looked around on the shelves behind him where the food seemed to be kept, more than likely so as to deter petty hunger theft. “Ummm, gimme those five things of Cram, those healing potions on the shelf to your right and do you have any SparkleCola in stock? I’m not seeing any out here on the shelves so I wanted to ask.”

He gathered the items I described and set them down in a bucket by the old fashioned wooden register before chuckling, “Yeah, it’ll just be a second. Gotta keep ‘em in the back or they will go missing…damned foals around here got the biggest sweet tooth I’ve ever fucking seen so all the sugary shit has to be kept under lock and key. Don’t have much of a selection I’m afraid so if you’re looking for any of those fancy flavors like Rad or Grape you better head back North to a bigger town like Paletree. Don’t get many traders this far South so our options are kinda limited out here. Miracle we get as much merch as we do.”

“Heh, actually my friend and I just came from Paletree.” I replied with a chuckle, already digging in my bags for the caps to pay for it all. “Thought I had topped off enough on Cola while we were there but boy was I dead fucking wrong. Don’t worry about the flavors, I’ll take whatever you got on hoof. Just need it to stave off Sparklediction before the symptoms start acting up again.”

He shook his head and laughed heartily, “Heh heh, big guy like you too eh? Guess anyone can get hooked on that shit these days. Gimmie just a minute, sonny.”

He promptly went towards a locked door behind the counter and disappeared into the back while I silently laughed at being called ‘sonny’ by someone a fraction of my own age. While yes, I did look rather young for three-centuries’ worth of life, I was far from being younger than the old merchant. Hell I was probably triple or even quadruple his age with any luck although I decided against telling him that just in case it soured his chipper attitude. After a few moments he came out with four regular SparkleColas floating beside him, caught in his pale ghostly blue magic aura. The contents of the bucket were dumped on the counter in front of him and he did some mental math looking over everything.

“That'll all be about 110 caps even, stranger. And before you ask, no we don’t take NER money out here. Caps only.”

I laughed as I jingled the bag of caps Firefly had given to me ahead of time and replied, “No worries here my guy, I don’t have any NER money on me. Hell, I didn’t even know the Republic had its own currency to be honest. I only came out West here not even a month ago and I’ve been on the move basically the entire time. Only met the NER proper just a week ago outside their Embassy in New Pegasus; friend and I were dropping off a Bounty of theirs and they made sure to pay us in caps.”

“No shit? Huh…explains why you’re the biggest fuckin’ Griffin I’ve ever seen. Didn’t wanna say anything but…damn son, you’re one tall sonofabitch. Seen me plenty of Griffs in my time as a Merc but you’re bigger than any of ‘em.”

I laughed heartily at that and waved a hand dismissively.

“Doubt you know the difference but I’m actually a Gryphon, not a Griffin. And before you ask, yes there is a difference between the two aside from just how you pronounce it. Gryphons like me are just naturally bigger than our smaller cousins from Griffinstone but I doubt there’s any others of my kind on the Continent. Most stayed back home across the ocean to fight the Zebras on our own turf while a small number of us came over to join the fight here. I’m one of them and we live for a long ass time. Seen a lot of shit in my time…”

“Pretty tall tale you’re weaving there but I ain’t got anything I can deny your story with so whatever you say. Long as your caps are honest I don’t care where the hell you came from.”

I dropped the specified amount of caps in one massive handful on his counter and smiled, trying my best to help him count them out just to double check my own math.

“Hey, don’t have to believe a word a stranger says.” I chuckled, prodding my stacks of ten towards him with a talon. “I wouldn’t believe me either at face value, not in this day and age.”

He grunted in response, eying the stacks with a critical eye before scooping them up en-masse and dumping them into his register with a smile.

“Well, either way its been pleasure doin’ business with ya, big guy. Ain’t often we get strangers around here and you’re definitely the most interesting one yet.”

“Heh, might reconsider that if you met my friend. He’s a Glowing One.”

He looked at me incredulously as he shut his register and cocked an eyebrow as he asked, “Excuse me…a what now?”

“Heh, don’t worry about it.” I laughed in response, depositing my purchase into my bags and leaving out one of the Colas out to enjoy on my way back to Firefly “Thanks again! Nice to have a normal conversation with someone without it turning into an interrogation of some sort. Most people only see me for my armor and chalk me up from there so this is a nice change of pace from my usual.”

“Oh please…” He sighed with amusement. “You wear Power Armor like a Steel Ranger but you don’t act anything like those psychos. Could smell it a mile away if you were. Come again, stranger! You definitely gave me something to talk to the wife about tonight so that’s appreciated. Much as I love this little town…it’s pretty damn dull. Almost makes me miss running with Mercs...say, where are you and your friend headed off to anyway? Ain't nothin' around unless you're headed in one of the Northerly directions and anything South, East or West of here is just mountains and the Valley of Death.”

I gave a slightly hesitant laugh and rubbed the back of my head as I replied, "Eh heh...we're headed Southeast actually..."

He gave me a look of surprise and incredulousness, eying me up and down as if gauging how long I would survive.

"The Embers huh? What's a pair of strangers wanting from those accursed mountains?"

"Frankly none of your business." I said flatly. "We can handle ourselves."

"Oh I don't doubt that Mr. Paladin..." He sighed. "Alright, well can't say I didn't try to warn ya."

"What, you know something about them I don't?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"Probably nothing you haven't heard already about 'em...nopony explores them for a reason. Feral Dragons are said to still roam them...what's left of the old Dragon Lands that used to be here lonnnng before the Great War. I ain't saying you don't look ready for a fight, big guy. Just sayin' Dragons aren't somethin' anyone should fuck with, especially Ferals. Me and my crew came across a nest of two of 'em about...oh, ten years ago while trying to find a path over the Canterlot Mountains to circumnavigate the NER border at the Gap. We went into them with forty-seven hardened bastards...came back down the other side with only twenty-two of my group left standing."

That...was pause for thought for sure. Ferals weren't a common sight in the Wasteland, sticking to the secluded mountains and only appearing once in a blue moon to gobble up a couple wandering idiots who got too close to their nesting grounds. The Greifenländer had its own Ferals occupying the mountainous expanse at the center of our lands and we all knew to steer clear of those gigantic, ravenous beasts. Only made sense for the Ember Mountains to still be home to some Dragons even after the dissolution of their Kingdom almost a millenia ago. Still...we had to get to Outpost Zeta or die trying. The Steel Rangers would not have their prize and Elder Giorgi was going to be denied the pleasure of cracking the place open. Regardless of if 'The Prototype' worked or was even useful to anyone, we had made it this far and no scaly ass bastards were going to stop us from at least trying.

"Heh...well, I am sorry about the loss of your boys...but we have an important reason to be heading up into those mountains and believe me, I don't take your warning lightly."

"Ha ha! Well...guess that's one thing you still share in common with those Tin Heads. Always on some 'noble quest' or whatever the fuck you guys told yourselves in order to get out of bed in the mornings. Well...can't say I didn't warn ya, stranger. If you wanna go poking around those mountains then knock yourself the fuck out for all I care."

"Oh don't worry, we will for damn sure..." I chuckled before leaning close to tell him, "Look...just so you know...we overheard from the NER when we were by New Pegasus that the Tin Heads are making a run at the Gap soon and they seem capable this time of breaking through. Dunno where but it was supposed to be on the Southern half somewhere so...just keep an extra careful eye on the horizon, eh?"

"U-uh...well...um...shit." He stuttered, taken aback at my insider scoop and eying a set of worn M-CAP Model-3 nearby him behind the counter. "I hope to fuck you're lying but...fuck it, even if it's a false alarm I'd rather be prepared for nothing than be unprepared for something."

I gave a friendly wave in response as I walked out of the door and back into the town proper. Before I made my way over to the saloon to get Firefly, my PipBuck gave a soft series of beeps that indicated an incoming radio transmission. Seeing as only the Ling had access to my private channel, I pulled my helmet from off its hook and onto my head letting my thoughts direct the system to open communications.

“Howdy, Firefly. What’s up? You were right about the store not having much to snag but I still got us some more meat and Cola plus a few more health potions for the medical supply bag.”

“That's good Ah guess...hey Garand, get over here tah th’ saloon would ya? Barkeep has somethin’ important tah tell us an’ Ah want ya here so she ain’t gotta say it twice.”

I chuckled at my Glowing companions’ timing. “Already on my way over. In fact, I’m actually walkin’ in right now.”

As I did, I could see Firefly chatting up with the barkeep and two old grizzled, armored stallions who were shorter than the guy from the general store but no less intimidating looking. Could only guess they might have some sort of connection, perhaps having run with the same Merc crew together in the past. The saloon was much more rough around the edges than Paletree’s with mismatched building materials, shoddy lighting and a general lack of polish but in the end, it wasn’t bad for a homemade business. Paletree had an easy win thanks to having an actual Pre-War saloon to work with as a basis.

“An’ there he is now!” Firefly said over the background noise of the bar, pointing at me and beckoning me over.

I snaked my way around the clustered tables having to hunch way over just to keep my head from hitting the lower ceiling and took a seat beside him at the bartop. The stallions eyed me with the same wary gaze everypony else always reserved for me but I noticed the shiny metal stars pinned to their Model-3 combat armor. Didn’t even have to look at the large letters punched into them to know this was the sheriff and his deputy. Ex-Mercs working as law and order in a small watering hole? This little town could do a hell of a lot worse for itself.

“Soooo, what's this important info you mentioned?” I asked Firefly, to which he pointed to the barkeep who was busy pouring him another shot from a large whiskey bottle.

"Well, I'm here now." I grunted, looking at her as she slid the shotglass of brown alcohol towards Firefly.

“Well big guy, your glowing friend here says you two are looking for some old Outpost in the mountains Southwest of here right? Well, what if I told you I know the exact location of a mountain road that just so happens to lead right up into them?”

I cocked my head in curiosity and once again removed my helmet with an audible hiss from the EVA seal and hung it off my side. “What's the catch then?”

The aging yellow mare in the apron chuckled as did the sheriff and deputy, amused that I could tell already there was a price attached to the info we were after.

“Look stranger, we want you to help our little town.” The sheriff interjected, grunting around his noxious cigar screwed into the corner of his mouth. “Normally we wouldn’t dare fuckin’ ask a pair of random nobodies we’ve never met before to lend a hoof around here but…well, not for nothin’ but you two look like you know how to kick some serious ass which is something we need desperately right now. Ain't like any Companies'll bother coming this far South to help a poor little town like this, not for the amount of caps we have on hoof.”

I glanced at Firefly who nodded with a laugh and responded, “Seen my share of death and destruction, the question is what do you want with us that involves that sorta shit? You mentioned Mercs so I take it this isn't some pansy peacekeeping bullshit, that just ain't their style.”

“Well…when Silver Stream came and told us a pair of heavily armed and armored strangers had entered Junction-11, we thought you were a couple of Steel Rangers who have been giving us hell the last couple months. Thought we’d corner you in here but you ain’t the fuckers we’re after so we decided to try and strike a deal with you two after seeing the heat you’re packing.”

“Hold up, Rangers?” I asked in genuine surprise. “Since fucking when??”

“Like he said, it was a couple months ago…” The deputy sighed, snagging Firefly’s shot for himself much to the Ling’s annoyance. “Long story short, couple of Power Armored asshats showed up and demanded we pay them ‘protection money’ in the form of caps, food and Chems or get destroyed. Sheriff and I used to run with some pretty wild Mercs back in the day so we had enough firepower to drive them off but they’ve gathered some Raiders around them and have been harassing us ever since. Picking off Brahman, taking shots at our buildings, the whole nine yards. We can’t leave to try and hunt them down or we’ll leave the town too undefended and we don’t have the armor or weaponry needed to wipe out the cunts on their own turf.”

“I see…doesn’t sound like the SR I know but if it means we get the info we want then we’ll do it. Knowing all this though, I’m kind of surprised you’d ask me to help out with this. Most just see the Power Armor and think I’m still with the Order. Left them behind a while ago and they want me in a grave almost as much as they want Pre-War tech.”

“Well you can thank your friend here for giving you a…ahem, glowing recommendation. Though now I see you for myself, I can tell you ain’t running gun for them bastards anymore. They just loveeee their goddamned insignias and logos plastered all over their fuckin’ armor and woulda shot you dead for letting yours look like it does. I don’t give two shits about your past with them, all we care about is getting those two shits off our backs and six-feet under. Can’t think of a better person to ask than someone who can take as much damage as they can.”

I nodded and looked at Firefly. “Then say no more, we’ll do it. Those SR or Raiders or whatever the fuck they are will be dead before sunrise. And as soon as we get our info we will be outta your manes for good and you can put all this shit behind you guys. Ain't a reason for us to come back this way once we're done so you can put us and them behind you like it never happened and go back to being a boring little place in the Wastes.”

The three of them, including the barkeep, all sighed in relief. “Well…doin’ it all by sunrise might not be possible, stranger but hey you kill ‘em and we got a deal. Like I said earlier, we haven’t been able to stray too far from town but as far as we can tell they live just South of here. Some old Pre-War scrap dump they claimed as their own about five miles away or so, give or take. Dunno how many cronies they’ve got running gun for them but it’s at least a dozen or so. Shouldn’t be too hard for a couple of hard bastards like you two, right?”

I nodded and thanked them ahead of time for a reasonable enough trade before turning to Firefly. “Well…looks like we’ve got a job to do then. Let's get going before we waste any more daylight...we’ve got some more shitheads to hunt down. Least we can't say this trip has been boring eh?”

He nodded in agreement and paid the barkeep for his whiskey before we bid the two stallions goodbye and began our journey South. The mare at the gate seemed relieved to see us go and soon enough the little town was nothing more than a hazy speck on the horizon behind us. While I would have liked to have gotten the info for free or via a generous bribe so we could be on our merry way all the sooner, the deal we had just made was far from the worst I had been involved in. We got some target practice against a couple of fuckers in Power Armor, practice that would come in handy soon enough, and in exchange Junction-11 got to retain the peace and quiet they wanted. Still…how he had described the two supposed Steel Rangers didn’t fit with the Order’s MO. While they demanded any and all technology be forfeited to them, demanding a tribute of food and Chems was…not standard procedure to say the least. There was something more going on here…

“Damn…and here I was hoping no SR related shit had breached the Gap yet...” I growled under my breath as we walked.

“Yew think they might be SR?” Firefly asked me, to which I shook my head firmly.

“Not a chance. The Order doesn’t just send two Paladins to buttfuck nowhere to harass a small trade town and extort them for drugs and food. They take what they want, when they want and Chems are strictly forbidden for use amongst all ranks. More than likely it’s just a couple of Raiders or ex-Mercs who happened across an SR scouting party and salvaged their PoA for themselves. Either way, once we find ‘em they’re dead for sure.”

Firefly chuckled. “Ahhh…nothin’ like puttin’ some dumbass wannabes in ah shallow grave tah rot eh? Sounds like yer lookin’ forward tah this!”

“Well if there’s one thing I hate more then the SR, its a fucker who think its cool to dress up like them and add to the mess those fuckers made. If I’m gonna clean the Steel Rangers’ old reputation, this is a great place to start.”

**********

It was just reaching dusk when we finally reached their fortress. Boulders, mounds of rusting scrap metal and disintegrating train cars marked the obvious lair of these two SR wannabes and the shitheads who fell in line behind them. There were none of the telltale signs of an SR encampment such as a communications beacon poking out from the middle of the makeshift fort or the awful stench of a bunch of technophiles with massive sticks up their asses. Confirmation came in the form of a lone sentry patrolling the precarious wall of scrap and rock, his armor made of the same shitty hodge-podge of welded metal, leather straps and unnecessary bits of rebar jutting out as makeshift spikes. Even the lowest ranking combat forces, the Knights, were clad in SR branded Model-3s and 4s and carried quality firearms giving some decent bite to all their bark. There was nothing special to these guys and with the lax security, this was going to be a Radpheasant shoot down a narrow hallway. And I was hoping for some kind of challenge…at least it was gonna be easy which was a blessing in and of itself. When I had said it would be over by sunrise...probably could have gotten away with saying, 'by midnight judging by how easy a target this was.

“Well fuck…that’s hella fortunate. Even easier than that nest of Radroaches we passed earlier.” I said as I turned to Firefly who’s red helmet lenses were glowing softly in the growing gloom. “Thankfully the camp seems to be either asleep already or are super confident in that one guy being able to ward off any danger.”

“Or that he’ll give ah shoutout before he gets his goddamned head blown off…” He replied with a laugh, getting his weird lever-action from off his back and screwing on a suppressor before switching out the magazine. “Sub-sonics, won’t hear ah goddamn thing till th’ lead punctures his skull.”

With a soft pneumatic hiss my armor opened up letting me climb out into the warm, stiff breeze of the desert air. I detached my machete in its sheath from the shoulder of my armor and strapped it to the shoulder strap of my plate carrier while switching my revolver to my secondary holster on my hip along with three spare loaded cylinders. On my other leg went my 10 gauge shotty in the event my big ass was discovered and shit hit the fan. I was no Peter in terms of grace, agility or stealth but he had taught me a thing or two about the craft and I was eager to put them to use again. As fun as running and gunning was, a good stealth op was always a pleasant change of pace and kept me up to date with my own skillset.

“Alright, here’s the plan, I sneak in first and catch the body of that guard soon as you take him out and hold the door open for you to follow. They won’t be sleeping in their armor so we just find where they’re keeping them and I’ll use my PipBuck to rig the CFC to blow. Bingo bango bongo and we are a mile away before the whole place goes up. They’ll be able to see it all the way in Junction-11 so we can head back immediately and get what we need. Bar like that looks like it’d be open 24/7.”

Firefly shook his head. “Yew sure, Garand? They could have hella loot in there, big guy. Would be ah waste tah blow it all up…Ah mean, what about gettin’ replacement parts fer yer Power Armor? Ain’t that reason enough tah just shoot th’ place up ‘n call it ah night?”

I growled at his stubbornness. “Look, I know that there might be good shit in there but this is serious Firefly. Even if these fuckers aren't SR, they still took it on themselves to impersonate them and that automatically makes them my sworn enemy. I don’t wanna take any chances if they've got more PoA chassis in their possession and one of them gets geared up. That happens and I’ll have no choice but to get right up on them and make sure you’re outta the range of fire. That…and this is gonna send a message. I will not tolerate any more proliferation of the bad name the Order has made for itself and this is a step towards that. If you don’t agree with that then by all means wait for me back in Junction-11 and I’ll see you by sunrise. This shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes, tops.”

Firefly sighed in response and mumbled, “Sheesh…Ah’m wit’ ya, Garand. Guess it could be ah fun lightshow at th’ very least. Might be neat tah see if we can pull this here gig off withou’ rousin’ th’ soon tah be dead. Excuse meh, neat tah see yer fat ass pull this here gig off.”

“That’s the spirit! And shut the fuck up ya Glowstick.” I laughed, nodding towards my parked armor and helping him up onto its back using the helmet as a convenient gun rest. “Alright, I’ve got an EarBloom so when I’m in position I’ll send three bursts of static to let you know I’m in position. Give me some sorta sign when you’re about to fire and I’ll keep him from making a ruckus on his way down. With how uneven that walkway is, more than likely he’ll crumple to a heap and make every noise known to Terra Firma.”

He nodded and grunted in response, settling into as comfortable a position as he could atop my armor and I crouched low to the hot desert sand. Despite being called a bird by anyone and everyone, there was still plenty of big cat genes in my body giving me more agility and flexibility than someone my size should be allowed to have. Slowly I crawled forward, my paws and talons making little to no noise on the ground beneath me while my keen eyes adjusted to the dying light of the evening. The firelight flickering inside the walls offered tremendous contrast to the evening sky and our lone target was easily visible as a partial silhouette. My ears strained to hear any and all noise in the immediate area but aside from my own light-pawed scampering across the sand, there wasn't a damn thing to listen to and all I could smell was the warm sand around me. Couldn't have asked for better conditions for detonating a couple of Crystalline Fusion Cores under the noses of a bunch of lowlifes who didn't deserve to own them.

I reached the main gateway to the camp without raising any alarms and I glanced back at where Firefly was perched, ready to shoot as soon as I had an angle. There was no gate guarding the entrance, just an opening in the wall with a boardwalk bridging the gap above and not a soul in sight guarding it. The inside of the encampment was pretty barren with a handful of tattered canvas army tents and a lone deteriorating warehouse looking thing with a sign saying, ‘Rusty Brothers’ Scrap ‘n Dump’. Campfires and a few flames in a barrel were scattered around but there was not an asshat in sight. There were alcohol bottles everywhere though and the place reeked of booze, piss and vomit…apparently there had been a long day of partying and everyone was out cold in their tents before 9pm. With the guard’s eyes facing outwards, it took little effort to snake my way along the base of the wall to where he stood. Talons up and ready, I tapped my EarBloom three times sending the signal to my waiting sniper.

There was a burst of static in response, a wet, crunchy slap and the dumbass fell backwards right into my waiting talons cushioning his fall noiselessly as the bullet whizzed off into the night. I ignored the spray of blood and brains on my feathers and set his bleeding corpse in the sand at my paws as Firefly informed me that he was already on his way over. While I awaited his arrival, I checked the dimly glowing screen of my PipBuck to see if there were any angry red ticks on the E.F.S moving around. There were a little over a dozen ‘neutral’ orange ones indicating the sleeping assholes and a singular red tick off to my right that wasn’t moving. So they had two on guard duty tonight it seemed…big whoop. Was still a walk in the park compared to what I put up with back East. The wildlife of the Post-War world was more dangerous than this gang of amateurs and I'd sooner actively choose to fight another Ursa Minor than these idiots. Mostly because at least then the fight would feel worth our collective time but seeing as we were bargaining for potentially useful intel, the small fry would have to do for the night. Looking down at the easily capped Raider on the ground in front of me did remind me however that there was a certain carnal pleasure that came with tearing through minor speedbumps like these. Tearing terrified psychos apart limb from limb and gouging their guts out with my bare talons while the others watch on helplessly was always good for a laugh and it was nice to have a chance to indulge myself again in a temptation.

Within a few minutes, the bold green tick of my Ghoul companion made it around the wall and into the camp. We nodded to each other and he stood guard by the gate to ensure if any tried to flee they wouldn’t make it far. With the only exit covered, I made my way to the warehouse on the east side of the yard figuring that the PoAs would be stored inside for safekeeping. The camp was silent aside from the faint snoring coming from the tents and the crackling of the various fires around camp and the lone stallion standing guard in front of the crumbling warehouse stood as oblivious to the situation as ever. Pulling out my revolver and undoing the latch, I fished out the cylinder and slipped an empty casing from killing the Radroaches earlier into my palm, throwing it in a direction to make sure the stallion would look away from me. The tinkling brass bounced off one of the many rocks strewn around the camp causing a quiet distraction that would alert the only guy actually awake to hear it. Oldest trick in the book and yet, it never got old to see it in action.

“Hey! Who the hell is that?” He called out, turning to face the noise with his gun partially raised. “Rubble I swear to fuck if you’re fucking with me again…”

While this genius pissed himself over a bullet casing, I slowly snuck up behind him feeling a certain, primal pleasure being on the hunt like an apex predator of old. Before he could even get another word out I quickly slit his throat with my index talon; a quick flick of the hand and his jugular was spewing bright crimson blood like a fountain. Before he even fell to the ground I grabbed him around the chest in my large hands and curled my talons inwards, sinking them deep into his lungs and heart killing him on the spot. It was a bit excessive as the throat cut would render him mute and dead within fifteen minutes but I liked making sure he wouldn't make a ruckus from thrashing about in the dirt as he bled out. Double tap applied to impaling bitches too unless the heart or brain itself were hit first and even then you can never be too careful.

”Well look at that, looks like these idiots were dumb enough to let you keep the keys for the night.” I chuckled quietly to myself as I snagged them from off a leather thong around his neck and unlocked the door. "Thanks for your contribution to your own demise, dumbass..."

Inside was a sight to see. To my left was a wall of ammunition boxes, explosive's crates and racked weapons while to my immediate right was a row of Power Armor chassis all devoid of armored plating and seemingly only partially operable with tools scattered all over the floor around them. Even without the protective shell, a PoA chassis gave advantages to the wearer like increased strength, speed and punching power and could still act as a gun platform for a jury-rigged BattleSaddle. Closest to the door was a pair of fully armored T-45s sporting fading SR emblems, war markings painted in blood, shoddily welded on intimidation spikes and necklaces of pony teeth around the neck. Even for an Outcast of the Order I was disgusted and horrified at how they had bastardized such beautiful Pre-War hardware. While Firefly had a point that it would be a waste of relatively good spare parts…this was one form of heresy that I could still get behind when it came to how the Order would deal with such an abomination. They had been irredeemably tainted and needed to be purged from off the face of the earth.

“Alrighty…let’s get this bitch hot and ready…” I mumbled to myself, taking out the universal adapter cord from my PipBuck and feeling around the back of the closest set of armor until I found the socket.

I was lucky as ever that StableTec products were compatible with, if not integral, to the Spell-Matrix that ran the OS that made the damn thing function and move. Normally I used it to diagnose my own armor and run systems’ maintenance but in this case, I was plugging directly into the PB-OS and accessing the so-called ‘Doomsday Protocol’. The orange-toned screen of my PipBuck was alight with numbers and code as it integrated with the armor before the familiar readout sprang to life before my eyes, a simple diagram of the armor with markers indicating different parts and their sub-menus. I fiddled with the controls and selected the Crystalline Fusion Core which brought up a long list of details like serial number, number of days in use and other unimportant information; that being said I laughed that it barely had 15% capacity left in the tanks which was just enough to pull off the stunt I was about to perform. Any lower and I would have needed to find one still capable of achieving supercriticality, something that needed a certain amount of viable fuel to pull off. This wasn't something I had ever needed to do before in the field but I knew the protocol by memory after working on my own armor and spell-matrix over the years.

“Uh-huh…yes I wanna initiate self-destruct. No, I don’t need to reconsider my options and yes I know contact with StableTech HQ and the Ministry of War is unavailable…dumb piece of shit thinking it’s still 2077…”

After several angry clicks of 'Affirmative' on my PipBuck, there was a soft whir and then a subtle but growing whine as the CFC began to visibly glow in it's dorsal housing giving me every reason to haul my ass the fuck out of there. The Doomsday Protocol had been built into the OS from day one in the case a Steel Ranger found themselves surrounded by Imperial troops with no hopes for escape. Leaves the enemy with less soldiers for fighting and no armor for their engineers to reverse engineer and use against us like they had with combat robotics. T-minus two minutes to supercriticality and with a half dozen chassis and the ammo dump…goddamn was this gonna be one for the memory book!

“Oh fuck me, guys wake the fuck up!! There’s an intruder in the fucking camp! They got Sagebrush!”

That was all the extra motivation I needed and I barreled out of the warehouse door, slamming into an orange stallion who was kneeling over the body I had left outside. Before he could even react, I regained my balance and whipped out my revolver, emptying two shots into his chest and neck at near point-blank range sending pieces of him splattering across the camp. The shots roused more of them to poke their heads out of their tents only to be met with .454 Castle lead and 10 gauge scattershot as I ran past them to the gateway where Firefly stood with his rifle at the ready. I could see him hesitate as he noticed I was galloping towards him like a goddamn cat who had fallen into the bathtub, something I almost never did due to how uncomfortably my armor slapped against my chest and back as I ran. That and it just felt…undignified I guess but this was no time for appearances. This was a time for hauling ass and regretting shit later!

“Fly you damn fuckin’ fool!” I shouted as I barreled past him, snagging him by the leg and swinging him onto my back unceremoniously like a sack of flour.

He clung to me for dear life as I skidded to a stop next to my armor, tossed him off my back and flung myself into my Power Armor before charging out into the open desert with him once again clinging to my back. Two minutes was not a lot of time by any stretch of the imagination and I wasn’t in the mood to get caught in the blast range. After bounding a half-mile in less than fifteen-seconds, we came to a screeching halt and turned around to watch the firework show. Not a moment to soon as there was a large explosion of baby blue light followed immediately after by a second, gigantic explosion as the other chassis went supercritical in the blast and the ammo dump went up with it. The resulting shockwave could be felt in the ground below and in the air around us like a padded sledgehammer as dust and sand blew outwards in a visible ring from the blast zone. For one bright, shining moment the desert was lit up for miles around as the Post-War’s largest flare went up in smoke and it was only thanks to our helmets that our ears and eyes were saved from any injury.

“HA HA!! FUCK YEAH!” I laughed joyously, Firefly staring in amazement at the sight of a massive fireball rising in the sky. “That beats that SR ammo dump I blew outside Maretropolis by like ten! No, fifty! Oh gods if only Muller could’ve seen that shit…god fuckin’ DAMN! Wooooo!”

“Sweet fuckin’ horse apples that was fuckin awesome!” He shouted, his jaw still on the floor in amazement. “Take that ya fuckin’ punk ass Tin Head wannabes! I hope ya ride cactus dicks in hell ya cocksuckin’ fuckheads!!”

“Heheh, couldn’t have said it better myself!” I laughed, patting him on the back before nodding in the direction of Junction-11. “Common, that blast was enough to rouse the dead so everypony and their dog’ll be up back in town. Let’s go get our reward and see if we can get a place to shack up for the night.”

“Fuck, let’s go fer some good eatin’!” He laughed, walking beside me with the biggest grin on his face after taking his helmet off. “Ah think they owe us tha’ much!”

Chapter 7: A Sandy Path of Benefits

The night was kind of a blur after we returned to Junction 11 in triumph. The moment we approached the front gate again they knew that fantastic display of explosive force belonged to us and they hailed us as heroes. It was…odd to say the least being the subject of praise and adoration again after decades of being reviled for my association with the Order. The entire town was woken up from the blast (and probably even as far away as Paletree) and so we spent our first hour back shaking hooves and enjoying the praises of this small town. Stallions slapped us on the back, mares batted their eyes and cheered while the foals...just ran around like the bunch of chaotic little demons they are. For a moment there…it almost felt like the far-distant past when Steel Rangers received this kinda treatment on the regular from civilians anytime we were around them in public. In armor at least, they only tended to recognize particularly famous Rangers out of steel.

The townies all crammed themselves into every available space in the shoddy two-story bar and the booze flowed like water for a good few hours as everyone celebrated our victory over those bandits. It was sure to set Lager the barkeep back a few months on her supply but she didn’t seem to mind at all as she gave refill after refill to all who came asking. In particular though, it was mostly just Firefly as he had found his whiskey heaven for the night with several brands to choose from. Me? Well…I had a few shots of course, mostly to appease everyone around me, but with my size and weight it would have taken half the bar to get me shitfaced drunk. (Which was the point of drinking wasn't it?) However, the moment I saw the Sheriff pull out a long wooden pipe and a nice fat bag of red and yellow nugs of Red Berryl…I just couldn’t resist that particular temptation to take a few puffs for myself.

Unlike alcohol, Red Berryl was particularly potent for Gryphons and was referred to as Katzenminze. While it was also the name applied to the common plant known as ‘catnip’, it was not without reason. It gave a nice hazy high for ponies and the like, but amongst my kind it acted as a fairly strong narcotic inducing a high that could only be described as a mixture of shitfaced drunk and high as balls. Not only that but in at least ¾ of our population it also acted as a pretty strong aphrodisiac which made for some pretty lewd get-togethers and fun stories. After a few long drags of the sweet pineapple flavored smoke…time and memory almost immediately lost all meaning and past that? Well…let’s just say I didn’t even notice passing the fuck out or hardly anything that happened between those first puffs and the moment I woke up the next morning with Firefly asleep and snoring on my chest. Not only that but my feathers were all out of place and my fur felt…sticky. Some of it was definitely dried sweat but there was something else mixed in that was a lot slimier and left an uncomfortable mess of my lower body.

“Oh fuck…” I chuckled to myself the moment the smell of jizz hit my nose, knowing full well what must have happened. “Hope I didn’t hurt him…wonder if it was you or me who started this…”

“Nnn…huh…?” Came the mumbled response from the groggy, messy Ling on my chest who I couldn’t help but give a nice tight hug to. After all…once you’ve fucked a friend, the relationship tends to evolve into something a bit more than that and I felt genuinely happy to have him near.

“Mornin’ sleepy head!” I laughed softly, feeling myself nuzzle his black and green cheek softly with my beak.

“Mmff…th’ fuck happened…? Ow…th’ fuck? Mah ass fuckin’ hurts…”

“Ummm…” I laughed sheepishly as he looked up at me. “Yeahhhh…about that heh…”

“Uh…Garand? Are yew holdin’ meh?”

I let go instantly with a blush, feeling more self-conscious than I expected being so close to him and not knowing how he was going to react. Oh Gods I hoped he didn’t consider what we did to be rape…

“Did Ah say tah lemme go?” He smirked, winking up at me cheekily with his odd milky blue eyes and glowing black face. “Get them talons back on mah body now big guy. Ah like th’ feelin’ quite ah lot.”

With an even bigger blush I held him in my arms again, tentatively putting my hands on his back to which he sighed happily and seemed to melt a bit against me in a surprisingly adorable way for such a grizzled Bounty Hunter. This was…kind of a new sensation for me. In the Stable, bedding ponies and Zeebs down had been kind of routine; a way to blow off steam with your neighbor and work off some of the boredom of being trapped underground for so long. It was there I first discovered there wasn’t much of a difference between fucking a gal or a guy and both brought their own fun to the table letting me add the term ‘bisexual’ to the list of shit people know about me. But…something I never actually experienced there was a sense of deep connection to someone after the fun was over and it was time to clean up and move on with the day. And yet…here I was, sharing a rickety bed that was too small for me with a Changeling Ghoul feeling a stronger emotional connection with him in less than a month than I had with any of the mares or stallions of 39. Did I love him…? Maybe? Really more in the sense that he was something more than a friend rather than something like a potential nestmate. Even as a friend with benefits though, I certainly felt happy to have him around. Happy, upbeat and very satisfied.

“Ya know, when ya said yew swung both ways…guess Ah didn’t expect ya tah swing mah direction.” He said after a few moments of hugging me close and nuzzling my chest feathers in a very affectionate manner.

“Heh…neither was I to be honest…” I admitted, wondering just how long we went at it as I could feel some definite soreness in my hips, legs and abdomen. “Sorry about your ass…”

“Oh don’t yew worry about it!” He replied with a grin of his perfectly white teeth. “Ain’t nothin’ Ah ain’t been through before heh, heh. Although…gotta admit I don’t remember anythin’ abou’ it. If mah ass has any say in it though…yer a hung stud.”

I blushed even harder in embarrassment completely unprepared for just how bashful I felt in this situation. Had I any intention on fucking him? None that I was aware of… And yet, here we were, post-orgasm and cuddling. There were so many questions unanswered here and I felt flustered in a way I never expected to feel. However…what I could feel was the cold trickle soaking my belly fur and the undeniable feeling of…affection? Gods my life was starting to get weird again… Maybe not in a bad way for once though.

“Heh…well…I’m seven-feet tall, what do you expect?” I laughed sheepishly. “The bigger the species, the bigger the dick. Just kinda how it works, can’t blame me that I’m this way.”

“Hey, Ah ain’t complainin’ and Ah ain’t blamin’!” He laughed in response, surprising me even further by kissing me on the beak and trying to move a bit. “Mmmf…damn. Feels like ah helluva mess down there big guy.”

“Sorry…”

“What’s there tah be sorry about? Ah like gettin’ dicked heh, heh. Sex ain’t no squeaky clean operation! Although…Ah think Ah need ah hoof cleanin’ up down there…”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” I replied, feeling like my face was going to explode from how hard I was blushing as I gingerly slid myself out from under him and laid him down onto the bed.

The poor thing was a mess in more ways than one. Sheets and pillows were scattered across the small shabby room like a whirlwind had gone through and the stained mattress was now sporting a large new one to add to the collection. A few new ones it seemed… And Firefly…seeing him outta armor gave me an appreciation for just how much light his body emitted as the ceiling and walls nearby were lit up in a soft green glow. Of course, seeing him outta armor also gave me an appreciation for his body in general; well-toned muscles crisscrossed with battle scars filled the bulk of his weirdly soft carapace that at once was both like and unlike a normal pony body. It felt tough, like a plasticky leather stretched over muscles but most of his body was kinda pliable and soft. He also had shimmering iridescent bug wings that likewise pulsed with glowing green blood while his hooves were filled with holes typical of his species. And then…there was his poor ass that was the cause of the mess. My mess…

“Just use one of th’ sheets…” He chuckled, flinging his odd membranous tail over his back showing off the thick goopy whiteness dripping from his ass. “An’ enjoy th’ view heh, heh…”

I cleared my throat bashfully and set about mopping up the cummy mess I had left him with needing half the poor bedsheet to get as much as I could. All the while he looked back at me with a big grin on his face and rewarding me with a few moans of pleasure as I wiped his ass clean like some sort of foal. There were Changelings in the Greifenländer, just like there were amongst any of the major Sentient species of the world, hiding in plain sight and taking on many aspects of their ‘host’ species of choice. While disguised it was nigh-on impossible to detect them, even with magic, but while in their native form it was easy to tell them apart for being black, bug-like versions of Gryphons with colors and features that seemed shared across the species. That being said however, I had never seen any of them before in person both back home or in the time since leaving it. At least, none that I was aware of as like most Hives they chose to live among us as anonymous citizens. To see one in its native form, at least one in an Equestrian base form, was a new experience but that didn’t mean I was turned off by what I saw. At the very least, he could be called ‘exotic’ or ‘something off menu’ but really, it can also be interpreted as just good, old fashioned ‘fun’. Especially if he could still shapeshift after the Ghoulification…that opened up some interesting maybes for the potential future.

When I felt I had done a good enough job mopping up, I just tossed the soaked sheet on the headboard and helped him get to his wobbly hooves. The sun started poking through the window on the far side of the room meaning it was much later in the morning than I expected as the damn thing had colossal mountains to climb over. We had enjoyed our time here, that was for damn sure…but it was time that we got ready to go and hit the road. Every hour we stayed was an hour closer Grigori got to Outpost Zeta and…well, that was the entire fucking reason we were here wasn’t it? Sure we had saved the town from some dumb little shits, got high and fucked but in all fairness we had made good time to the area and could afford a few lost hours. Besides…it was hard to deny that I didn’t need it a lot more than I realized and I felt more refreshed mentally and physically than I had in recent memory.

“Goddamn…” Firefly mumbled as his hind legs wobbled and shook like he were in an earthquake. “Yew fuckin’ destroyed meh! Like…damn!”

“S-sorry…again…” I apologized sheepishly as his curved horn lit up with his sickly green magical aura, his saddlebags floating over gracefully into his waiting hooves.

“Ah shut it, Garand…” He laughed pleasantly, pulling out a bottle of magenta healing potion and taking a short drink before sighing happily after a couple moments. “Mmmf…all better! Ain’t had tah do tha’ fer a good few years now…”

“Oh…? What do ya mean?”

“Eh, every now n’ again Ah gotta pop one o’ these tah get meh back on mah hooves afta a good fuck wit’ some big cocks. Consider it ah damn good compliment! Not every biggun is ah fun one!”

“Heh…if you say so…”

Within a few minutes both of us were dressed in our respective gear having stripped naked sometime during the night and tossing our shit everywhere around the room. My Power Armor awaited me downstairs, sitting just outside the door to the bar and once we had determined nothing was stolen or left behind, we went downstairs to speak to the barkeep and get started on the last leg of our journey. Being a 24-hr bar, there were still a few patrons seated at the various tables around the joint along with the stench of booze and sweat from the party the night before. Far from pleasant but…the smell of old cum wasn’t much better and I was gonna need a good bath as soon as I found a good body of water to enjoy.

“Well, if it ain’t the lovebirds!” Lager giggled as we approached the shabby bartop she stood behind, a long ledger of all that had been drunk sitting in front of her with a stubby pencil. “Surprised to see you two up so early after last night. Can only guess what kind of a mess you two made…”

“Sorry Ma’am…” Firefly apologized with a blush, straightening his bush cap and biting his lip. “Was…kind of ah blur wha’ happened last night…”

“Oh don’t ya worry one bit about it, hero.” She winked, putting three bottles of orange-brown whiskey on the bar top and pushing them in his direction. “We’re used to the ceilin’ creaking and shaking around here. Them bedrooms are there for that purpose after all heh. Wasteland is fulla ponies that wanna fuck and get fucked so we cater to ‘em as well. Pays damn well and Gods know we got plenty of bucks in this town who want some action. That’s what they’re for!”

In the corner of the room a group of mares and a couple stallions dressed enticingly waved with smirks and winks as Lager pointed in their direction. I vaguely remembered one or two of them from the night before but as far as I could tell, I hadn't taken a single one of them to bed. I knew Berryl made me one of the ¾ who got bit by the horny bug so…I was surprised I was able to resist the temptation they offered and only fucked Firefly. I could only assume that with all my inhibitions gone…I somehow came to the conclusion that I wanted to be fuckbuddies with him and decided to go for it right there and then. Still wasn’t complaining though, there were literally thousands of less-than-desirable desirable soldier types out in the Wastes and it made no sense to complain about my stroke of luck.

“Still…sorry…” I replied, wishing I had my full PoA helmet on just to hide my poor blushing face from sight. I wasn’t used to feeling embarrassed like this…

“Think nothin’ of it!” Lager replied with a grin. “It’s obvious you two have somethin’ for each other so why should I judge? A big ol’ bird and a Glowin’ Bug…definitely ain’t a normal couple but hey, ain’t nopony round here that’s gonna bitch about it. You two did this town a hell of a good thing so who are we to tell ya what ya can and can’t do in bed together?”

“Damn straight!” Firefly chuckled, depositing the whiskey into his bags before asking, “So…abou’ our reward…”

“Oh don’t worry about that!” She laughed, pointing towards me. Or more specifically my PipBuck. “I told ya two soon as ya came in here and told me and the Law what you two did to them vagrants. Pointed it out on that fancy computer thing of yours and everything.”

Like most of anything that happened last night, I had trouble remembering this but took her word for it and brought up the map feature on my PipBuck. Within a quick glance I found the custom marker which pointed directly to a specific part of the Ember foothills only fifteen miles or so away. Just to double check, I had her come from behind the bar and look at the screen just to make sure I had the right area. For all I knew, stoned me had thrown a dart at the board and picked that location at random.

“Yep! That’s more or less where I remember seein’ it!” She beamed, pulling out an old and fading map of the area from a drawer nearby and pointing to a little circle in pencil she had made in the same general area as my map marker. “Been a good while since I’ve been out that way but I found it when lookin’ for some Molerats with my husband. Ya know…back before his ass ditched town with that fuckin’ Silver Road Caravan who offered more adventure than a little backwater town like this offers. Of course, didn’t actually walk up that road since them mountains could be hidin’ anything but lemme tell ya, it was big. Ain’t no small mountain path, that’s for sure. Was really more of a road than anythin’. Could haul a couple wagons side-by-side up that thing and still have some room to walk between and around ‘em. If that’s anything…it’s something important and probably has something to do with your little scavving place.”

“Thanks…” I replied distractedly, mentally connecting the dots with the road I had seen in the overhead GIMP map that had allowed me to locate the place to begin with and feeling grateful to have come across someone who had found something similar.

“If you fellas don’t mind me askin’...what exactly are ya lookin’ for in them mountains? Sheriff said somethin’ about an old world building or whateva.”

“Yeah…something like that.” I said evasively, not wanting to expose Outpost Zeta overly much to these ponies who wouldn’t value it to nearly the same level I could. “The Steel Rangers are looking for it too and we’re trying to find it first. Hopefully we can take some of them out too but I’m making no promises. Seems like a large group so it’ll be tough either way.”

“Well damn!” She laughed, putting the map away and locking the drawer with a key. “From one good deed to another! If those steel assholes want it then it's gotta be somethin’ special…I’ll forget I ever saw the thing and pretend it never happened.”

“Tha’ there is fer th’ best…” Firefly responded with a nod of approval. “Ain’t want any o’ yew ponies gettin’ hurt so stay far away from there. We got it handled.”

“Well given how you wiped those other Tin Head fucks from off the face of the map, I’d say so!” She laughed again, rearing up to kiss both of us on the cheek in thanks. “Go gettem boys! Give ‘em hell and thank you both from the bottom of our hearts for savin’ our little town from them assholes. It’s quiet around here and that’s just how we like it!”

And with that, we left. The town was quiet in the early morning sun with blinds and curtains drawn over the windows of every shack we could see. My Power Armor stood exactly where I remembered leaving it the night before and popped open immediately as I approached, my PipBuck sending a signal based on my intention to enter it. Once I was safely back in hermetically sealed steel, we made our way towards the gateway leading outside. While the guards on duty heavily protested our intention to leave them so soon, they knew better than to try and force us after the crater we had left in the Wasteland and reluctantly opened the sliding doors to let us exit to the open desert. We promised to try and return someday if time and circumstances permitted, which was really the best we could do. Whether or not we actually would was up for question but…I had to admit the idea of getting the heroes’ welcome, even from a rinky-dink little town like this, was a tempting idea. Could only hope Grigori bypassed this place and hugged the base of the Embers as soon as they broke through the Gap on their mad dash to find the Outpost.

With the NER inevitably coming to grips with what had happened, they would be making moves of their own very soon and with all the fury they could muster. Before long the area was going to be another Battle of Sandy Beaches although I had my doubts about the NER’s likelihood of kicking the Order back across the Gap for a second time. The first time around they had three-times as many troops in the region with their Veteran Rangers punching holes in T-45 Power Armor with Barnette .50s and 20mms doing the real damage to the Order. Unfortunately, with the previous thirty-years’ of relative ‘peace’ between the two factions, the NER had finally begun to ease its watch on the Gap and send its best troops North to explore the Duchy of Crystal. Of course, this was all happening just as the Order was reconsolidating its power after another Schism that had seen another two minor factions break away from the Seven-Chapters.

To explain all this to Firefly was…kinda difficult as he seemed to view the Steel Rangers as all being one in the same group of violent assholes. It was hard to blame him when, at the end of the day, all these groups used similar weapons, Power Armor and tactics to the next with the only distinguishing features being purely philosophical sometimes. Subtlety had its place but when it came to potentially violent tensions between splinter groups, it would be easier if some of them were more transparent and clear on what the hell they stood for and against. Some groups remained loosely allied to us but preferred doing their own thing while others were our sworn enemies, seeking to replace us and our ‘heretical’ ways with whatever bullshittery they pulled outta their ass that time around. Annnnd then there were the batshit insane ones that were a danger to anything and everything caught in its way including themselves. There was a lot of diversity to those wearing PoA back East and it was starting to become more and more noticeable in how these factions painted or otherwise modified their equipment to make sure they didn’t mistake a Brother in Steel for an Oath-Breaker or Outcast. Or really any number of names or terms they all used to refer to anyone who wasn’t part of their own army.

“So…yer tellin’ meh tha’ th’ SR ain’t one big group of assholes?” He replied after we started setting out into the open desert outside of town where we could discuss this stuff more freely. “Tha’ ain’t how th’ Republic talks about ‘em…ah Tin Head’s ah Tin Head and that’s tha’. Ain't no mo' argument needed, just ah .50 Big Mac AP-I n' ah clear line o' sight.”

“Well…yes, but also no.” I corrected. “The main Order itself, the ‘original’ as far as they are concerned, is split into Seven Chapters spread across the whole of the East from the Crystal Mountains to the Ponyrennes and each is led by a Field Elder. They’ve all worked mostly independent of the other but reported major incidents to the High Elder in Salt Lick City. Major incidents for example, like the murder of the Baltimare Chapter Elder five years ago by a splinter group that call themselves the Iron Crusade. They're one of the most zealous of these splinter groups and literally worship Pre-War tech as some sort of sacred god or spirit or...something, I don't know. Came across some sort of 'Holy Relic' and just up and shot their Elder over it because he wanted to transport whatever it was to the High Elder as ordered and some of those fuckers all of a sudden decided that now it was time for a good, old fashioned violent coup.”

"Fuck...somethin' like tha' would be sure tah lift some Republic spirits knowin' shit like this is happenin' East o' th' Gap. Wha' happened after they shot th' Elder? They take over Baltimare?"

"Nah...they tried but at the end of the day those in on the group psychosis were still outnumbered by loyal Rangers who weren't exactly fucking happy their best Elder in sixty years had just been shot by his own personal guard."

“Damn…so…how strong is th’ SR as ah whole? Ah get th’ feelin’ not nearly as much as Ah think they are.”

“Another loaded question…” I laughed grimly. “Lemme put it to you like this: when I left six months ago, we were just starting to recoup our losses from the Schism. Sooo…at the moment, basically they’re at their weakest but are still too strong to lose any significant territory. Except for maybe our beef with the Gunners, they’ve managed to put up a legitimate fight out East. Hell, that’s kinda putting it lightly…they are probably the one faction the SR worry about outside of the NER.”

“Oh? Think Ah’ve heard o’ them around th’ Syndicate Bars but not much else abou’ ‘em. They any good like the Talon Company? Helluva name, ‘Gunners’. Bit boring but...eh, tells ya wha' they're all about so Ah can't nick 'em fer beatin' around th' fuckin' bush about it.”

“Heh, yeah I’d say so.” I laughed in response thinking about how much trouble they caused for both the Baltimare and Manehatten Chapters. “They outright own Stalliongrad, which sits right between Manehatten in the North on the old border with Griffinstone and Baltimare to the South near the mountain pass into Northeastern Mareseilles. City used to be a major sea port with a massive set of fortifications around it and lining the coast ending at two major rivers that acted as bridge crossings between the other surviving portions of the Great East Wall. Eight years ago they just suddenly appeared within the city…rose outta the fuckin’ sewer system from multiple points all decked out in Model 3s and 4s and hauling the kind of firepower and training needed to kick us and all the other gangs in the surrounding area out. Took us by complete surprise and they made the most of it…nopony had any fucking clue there was a fuckin’ Stable deep under the city. Well…another Stable I should say. The Chapter had found an abandoned Stable built under a random hill outside the city that was still in decent condition but there was absolutely nothing in it but a decapitated puppet of Princess Celestia. This other Stable had to have been right under the city itself, probably somewhere in the old metro system that had mostly caved in during the Great War.”

“Ah Stable huh…? Fulla wha? Goddamned Commandos ‘er somethin’?”

“Well, the one the Baltimare Chapter found was only by chance. Even though they have a whole detachment of Scribes with full access to StableTec HQ in Bostang the place had been hit pretty hard and the database was mostly FUBAR. To make a long story short, the Gunners were originally a bunch of descendants of Pre-War military types. Lived, breathed and fought like the General Army Corps of the old days from generations of training and biding their time with mounds of equipment and ammo to start and finish a small war. Now…they control the whole of Stalliongrad and about twelve-thousand square miles of territory they’ve clawed out from under both Chapters. They’ll hire anyone who wants to join them who has beef with the SR and shows some serious balls which…isn’t exactly in short supply over there with how tough shit is nowadays. They’re the strongest Company in the East and we learned to stop fucking with them only around five years ago after refusing to take a hint like we should have. Like the NER, they learned that Barnette rifles are one of the best counters to Power Armor and the false sense of invulnerability it gives ponies who low-key think they’re demigods or some whacko shit. Krie only knows what that Stable was doing with so much fucking weaponry and trained soldiers but they put their biggest and baddest ones to work.”

“Them rifles are ah goddamned blessing…problem is, all them NER Vets wit’ .50s n’ 20-mils are up freezin’ their balls off pokin’ their way into th’ Crystal Duchy. Ain’t gotta be ah genius tah know that ain’t good fer th’ Gap no matter where th’ hell th’ SR decide tah hit. Like Ah told ya before, most o’ th’ muscle been peeled off n’ sent North far fuckin’ away from here…”

“Speaking of the Gap…” I sighed, coming to a stop to get our first tactical update of the day. “Gimme a bit, I wanna take a look at the map and make sure the map marker is dead-on so we don’t waste time wandering around looking blindly. Oh, and I wanna see the latest GIMP upload too so we can estimate how much time we can take in getting there. With a Platoon of Steel on the warpath, the path of destruction they make should be pretty easy to spot from above. Timing's right for them to have hit the Gap by now given Dodge Junction isn't all that far away from here.”

I pulled up my PipBuck’s map on my HUD and then overlaid the latest updated picture from the GIMP while Firefly slowed to a stop beside me. With her marker narrowing down the area I had to search, I almost immediately spotted the road seemingly emerging from between two twisted ravine walls and set the new position for our marker. ETA? Three-hours tops seeing as it was mostly flat terrain between here and there with some rolling hills and dunes in the way. Taking a little extra time, I scrolled around the map N/NE of our location spotting Appleloosa quickly as there were smoke and blast marks that would have been really hard to miss. Firefly had mentioned the old town several times during our hours on the road and none of what he said gave me any reason to care for its well being like I had with Junction 11. To think that the hillbilly R&R headquarters of the South would have gone from an amusement park for bored soldiers to acting as one of the largest Slaver operations in the West…well, I just didn’t wanna think about it. Whatever had done a number on the shitty little town, I thanked it for taking some names off my shitlist, be it Sentient, Feral or otherwise.

Looking further East, I spotted the Gap of Canterlot acting as the official border between the East and the West nestled between Mounts Everhoof and Jasper; the endcaps of the Canterlot and Ember Mountains in the North and the South respectively. Every ten-miles in the space between the two peaks were NER outposts with lone watchtowers of their own construction every five; all of them occupied and decently armed/equipped to some extent or another. They took advantage of old infrastructure left over from the Great War and repurposed the many toll stations and military checkpoints that had been installed there for a similar purpose over two centuries before. The line of readily visible fortifications and patrol routes made an unending border lasting around 100-miles keeping the Order stuck in the East. A…border with several plumes of acrid black smoke of its own near the foothills of Mount Jasper on the Ember half of the Gap. Wonderful…

******

“Well…not the best of news.” I finally said after spending some time analyzing the details and making guesstimations, Firefly taking time to eat a bit while he waited for me to finish. “SR have breached the Gap about sixty-ish miles to our Northeast and they hit it like a fuckin' bomb went off.”

“Ain’t surprisin’...th’ force as big as ya guessed?”

“Well, the GIMP follows an orbit directly above me so I can only really see anything in detail that's within fifty-miles of my current position. Makes it handy for shit that's nearby enough to be a problem but it's still a pretty narrow field of view given how big the Continent is. The overall image taken is a bigger area but the camera can only zoom-in on that small area to show any meaningful details. They definitely moved hella fast, I remember checking this thing on our way back from blowing those fuckers to the moon last night and I would have noticed a Platoon of Steel with a couple of Falke IIIs kicking up dust with them. Whole two-mile portion of the border is up in smoke behind them, must have hit them in the middle of the night and wiped out any immediate backup sentries. Even with a couple Ranger Vets with 20s the border guard would have had a hard time against a full frontal assault from that much heavy armor.”

“Th’ hell’s ah Flackie?”

“A what now…?”

“Yew fuckin’ tell me!” He protested, looking confused and annoyed. “Ya said somethin’ abou’ ah Platoon o’ Tin Heads and ah couple ah Falackie whatevas.”

“Falke…” I sighed with a groan once I realized what he was so blatantly mispronouncing. “It’s Greifenländer for ‘Falcon’...it’s one of the class names of Gryphon war vehicles. A medium tank to be exact with all of the scary connotations that come with that kind of description.”

“Huh…glad yew know wha’ they are then…” He chuckled nervously, starting up with me as we set back out on the trail again. “Ain’t nothin’ tha’ fancy o’er here. Republic would make damned sure everypony knew they had workin’ war machines like they did when th’ first Mr. Guts robots n’ shit hit th’ fronts. Wha’ are these things like anyway? Anythin’ in particular Ah should be expectin'?”

“Heh…well, for starters you should expect something we definitely need heavy ordinance for…” I laughed bitterly, thinking about how I had foolishly turned down a perfectly good Dart-88 with a copper shaped charge missile. “Imagine an armored carriage that moves around on its own with the whole crew safe inside, can be operated by anyone with the proper training and has a goddamn 50mm cannon in a movable turret with a couple of machine guns thrown in for an extra ‘get fucked’ message. We’d need something like the AMR-25 to even have a chance at punching a hole in the armor from a safe distance and even then we’d be better off with a couple of Darts and some HEAT missiles just to make sure we did enough damage. They don't like to go down easy and tend to take more than their share to the grave with them. Well...with the right crew operating it that is, if you've got a bunch of dumbasses at the wheel then they're more of a menace to themselves than anyone else. A good crew can put more weight in dead bodies in the ground than how much iron was mined out of it to forge the steel that made the damn things.”

“Damn…they sound almost more scary than Athena…” He replied with a bit of a grimace. “Ain’t sure Ah get tah say tha’ often.”

“Heh, you say that but…I’m not sure I agree. I’ve seen Kampfwagen in action plenty of times and even the first-generations of them were tough nuts to crack while throwing back a good fight of their own. I’d be very afraid to try and take even an indirect hit from a third-gen Falke armed with a 50-mil loaded with APCRs or HEs. If they were bringing along something like Würger half-tracks or Turmflake lightweights I wouldn’t feel as worried because those have guns I can be less careful around. No clue what the limits of the T-60 are but I don’t have a full set of pieces let alone ones made to fit my size. Hell, all of what I do have of it is MIG welded together which kinda diminishes whatever the normal tolerances are for this shit. I know it's almost pure Celestium Steel plate but there's no hard data for what it can and can't take under normal circumstances.”

“Ah hear ya…they don’ sound like shit we should fuck wit’ in th’ open, tha’s fo’ sure.” He sighed, continuing his earlier grimace. “Wonder if Athena could though…Ah mean, it’s got ah massive round! Big ol’ fuckin’ barrel n’ everythin’! She said she's killed Tin Heads in the past and Ah think Ah believe her. Th' gun speaks fer itself.”

He held up his hooves trying to give me a rough estimate of the large round in question and showing me a gap of around seven-ish inches. That…was concerning, so I had to be sure exactly how big this gun of hers was. The T-51 was rated up to 20mm AP and High-Explosive Anti-Armor; at least for the 20x84s used by the Zeebs after they debuted their first AMR above .50 caliber. The T-60 pieces, being Celestium and ceramic, would undoubtedly take them just as well if not better but still…I wasn’t above being cautious when it was my life and bodily comfort on the line. I was against a supposedly legendary Marksmare with a (most likely Equestrian) Anti-Machine Rifle after all. They had been made to punch holes in Zebra combat bots which I knew from experience were tough shits to put down needing twice as much firepower needed to take down most living things. While I had never seen or heard of an Equestrian AMR of any model being used or even tested against Power Armor of any type, it didn’t take a genius to get a little nervous about the unknowns here. Reason number one? The Barnette B1 was chambered in 20x102mm. A little over ¾ of an inch more space to pack with some extra powder making for a faster projectile which was just what armor penetrators needed to punch through thicker armor. Of course, this was all assuming she didn’t have the B1’s bigger, meaner older sister, the AMR-25 which would be just my luck… Not only was it more powder but it was also a noticeably bigger round with more space to cram nasty shit into.

“Can the barrel be recessed into the main body of the rifle?” I asked, knowing the answer but needing the confirmation all the same. “You know, collapse down into the main body of the gun to save on size?”

“Sure can!” He chuckled sheepishly, biting his lip nervously as my worst fears were confirmed. “Still ah bulky gun but damn does she roar like ah thing o’ beauty. They got this one test at th’ Hotshots competition where gunners wit’ big ass guns can try tah shoot targets through walls n’ shit. Ain’t nothin’ she couldn’t shoot through…n’ wha’ didn’t get hit dead-on got hit by shrapnel n’ fire. Girl’s got a lotta options fer her gun tah shoot shit up wit’. Honestly th’ judges wanted tah ban her from participation ‘cause it was seen as unfair, even usin’ basic APs so she stated usin’ th’ .50 Big Mac upper fer her rifle.”

“Well…fuck me in the ass with a fuckin’ cactus…” I sighed in frustration. “The bitch has a fucking 25mm Phoenix in this fucking day and age and nobody ever fuckin’ talked about it back East. Well ain’t that just fuckin’ wonderful…anything else I should know about this psycho chick with a fuckin’ portable cannon? Aside from the fact she is a danger to life and limb and I don’t wanna test how good my welds hold against that kinda firepower.”

“Well…fer starters, she ain’t ah psycho. Least nuthin’ like Queen at least…ain’t one fer talkin’ much or groups but she ain’t ah ChemHead or ah cannibal so don’t go thinkin’ she’s one o’ them freaks. She gots some fuckin’ NER Veteran Ranger lookin’ armor but hopped up on Buck n’ steriods. Ah mean, yew see th’ oldest Vets wearin’ mismatched M-CAP 4A n’ C pieces on top o’ their Black Armor but hers looks like it’s all original hardware. Definitely ah fancier helmet than anythin’ they got…honestly looked like th’ Black Armor if it had ah 4C heavy version an’ came wit’ ah leather duster instead o’ the canvas n’ Kevyarn ones they make outta Shady Sands. Ah’m talkin’ full matchin’ set wit’ desert camo n’ looks like it can hug ah .50 and come out smilin’.”

“Wait…so it’s as heavy as the 4C but isn’t the 4C?” I asked in disbelief as this was sounding more and more like the Mrk. IV version of the Ranger-series of armor.

“Yup.” He grunted, eying his own armor with a bit of a frown. “Just as much armor as ah 4C heavy but ah totally different design tah th’ 4s outside o’ wha’ she added on. Definitely looked custom fit tah her though…girl can move like lightnin’ n’ wrastle down anypony alive. Plenty o’ shit she keeps on her rig though Ah really only know of ah couple o’ N99s, tha’ big ass rifle, ah funky lookin’ sword and ah biggg ol’ black revolver tha’s as weird as th’ rifle. Ain’t neva seen one like it but it ain’t no slouch, even without ah scope. Crazy girl has ah scope th' size o' mah leg fer her rifle but shoots her wheel-gun wit' buck naked iron sights.”

“Oh really…? Weird how?”

“Well…fer one, it’s ah damned big girl, ‘specially fer ah pony-sized gun. Prolly big enough tah give yer wheel-gun ah run fer its money.” He replied, holding out his hooves again to measure before jacking my revolver out of its holster and using it for reference instead.

“Sooo…more ‘er less th’ same length o’ barrel but hers is ah whole helluva lot wider. Like one o’ them bull-barrels yew see on them fancier .44s sometimes but like…even thicker if yew can believe it. Breaks open like ah lil’ pocket revolver but she ain’t shootin’ no spitballs like ah fuckin’ .32…thems were th’ big lever-gun bullets. .45-70 Celestia…like one of th’ Ranger Sequoias th’ Vets earn after fifteen-years wit’ th’ Rangers. Ain’t look anythin’ like ‘em but it damn well shoots th’ same damn bullet! Ah would know.”

I cursed under my breath a bit, the more I heard about this bitch adding more and more credibility to the reputation she seemed to have in the area. The biggest question that had no easy answer was whether or not my patchwork T-60 parts could handle the ferocious bite of the 25mm Phoenix. The 10mms, the sword and even the .45-70s would be firmly stopped by even the few T-51 pieces I had left. Despite the price on my head being double if I was taken in alive, I sure as fuck wasn’t going to make that option easy which could make taking me at half-value a more appealing option. All she needed was a HEAA or Discarding Sabot right to the neck…ugh, I didn’t want to think about that possibility. If we could make it into the Embers, we could better control the terrain and have a better chance at limiting the usefulness of her rifle and egging her into a close-up brawl. Still, we had at least a three-day head start on her which was some breathing room we needed in order to take care of the SR before getting distracted again.

”You think she's one to kill and take half-pay?” I asked him honestly as he was literally my only source of info on her. “Or does she go the extra mile for the Contract bonus?”

He looked at me and shook his head with a sigh. “Yew mean Athena? If th’ price is right an’ th’ challenge worth her time, she'll think twice ‘bout turning ya into a pile of gore. At three-hundred thousand caps…well, th’ price couldn’t be more right at tha’ high ah numba. Fuck, maybe we can convince her tah not take ya in. Ah mean, she knows abou’ meh…well enough tah know Ah’m ah stallion of mah word. Maybe Ah can get her tah give yew ah chance tah talk yer half o’ th’ story. She knows well as anypony yew can’t eva trust th’ SR…she must think they’re good fer th’ money at tha’ high ah price.”

“No fuckin’ way they would be.” I snorted with a bitter laugh. “It’s like yanking fur from the balls trying to get your paycheck every month from them. The fuck makes you think they’re gonna cough up a middling fortune to a bunch of ponies they genuinely believe are beneath them? The Order is obsessed with keeping the ranks as pure to the original founding bloodlines as possible and only a few ever allow for Outsiders to be allowed to join. All that to say, they won’t even pay a wet fart to get their hooves on me and they’ll lie all they need to in order to make whatever deal they need to to get what they want with every intention of cheating their side of the bargain from the start.”

“Tha’...might be hard. Even fer them.” He replied with an odd expression on his face. “Syndicate…reason they could organize th’ whole West ain’t just because they got th’ caps tah rival Mr. House and th’ Stirrup. Them Shadow Brokers o’ theirs, th’ guys n’ gals tha’ run th’ whole damn thing…each one o’ them strong as ah fuckin’ Ox in them scary Dark Magics yew hear about sometimes. If th’ Order wants tah tempt ah War they ain’t gonna win, they gonna get one fer damned sure. Thing is, Ah dunno if Athena knows tha’ ‘er not…ain’t like th’ SR been makin’ deals wit’ th’ Syndicate fer years now and few in th’ network go out East tah know what y’all Tin Heads are about these days. Y’all got ah reputation out here fer damned sure…th’ Syndicate will take whateva th’ fuck th' Tin Heads say wit’ ah cup ‘o salt.”

I sighed and out of stubborn habit checked my revolver, making sure I had topped off my cylinder from the night before using the old-fashioned loading gate to slip a few of my precious remaining .454s into the empty chambers. I had specifically requested the ability to reload Unforgiven by either using the loading gate for one or two spent rounds or by removing and replacing the mostly empty cylinder with a fresh one. I had six cylinders in total, three of the spares kept fully loaded for quick-use attached to external magnets on my left cuisse while the other two were on the belt of the tactical rig on my person for when I was out of armor. It was outdated as fuck, arguably slower than a swing-out cylinder/speedloader method and I fucking loved it for it. Four of my spare cylinders were originals with enchanted engravings that refused to fade that matched those I ordered etched on the gun while the other two I had made myself from scratch; the results of a dozen prototypes as I tried to find the right steel to lathe and drill from scraps. Playing with my gun helped calm me down funnily enough and after another sigh I continued speaking.

“Gods I fuckin’ hope so…the SR are stubborn bastards, something that definitely has never changed from the old days. They’d sooner put a bullet in all of us, including the Hitmare, than have to actually pay someone they’ve never heard of before for bringing them a traitor to the Order. Far as they’re concerned, treason breeds treachery so everywhere I go is ‘tainted’ by my actions and everyone I meet is guilty by association. Let's hope her brains haven’t rotted out her asshole like everyone else's and that she’s open to some kind of diplomacy so I can try to talk some of the logistics to her that she might not be aware of. What are the chances of her just attacking both of us outright? You’re traveling with me, does that make you a target too like the SR would or is there more nuance to that sorta shit out here?”

“Oh, yew mean meh?” He shrugged, looking rather unconcerned. “Naw…Ah ain’t on anypony’s shitlist tha’ matters an’ ain’t got ah direct beef wit’ th’ SR. By our rules it ain’t until Ah fight her on yer behalf tha’ Ah become ah target too. Not ah fan o’ th’ idea but…Ah’ll put mahself between ya two tah give ya time tah speak. If this was Kay Q again…well…let’s just say tha’ in some ways it’s better she ain’t th’ one on yer tail no more.”

“Take your word for it then…” I said as I noticed Firefly staring at the forearms of my Power Armor with interest and a bit of confusion. “What? Somethin’ wrong or…?”

“Them symbols on yer armor, th’ hell are they for?” He asked, pointing at my bracers which were engraved with neat lines of Greifenländer Runes that ringed the entire cuff.

“Ohhh…thought you were gonna ask more about the arcane welding tool I keep in that bracer.” I laughed. “Shows how long its been since I’ve thought about those…”

“Ah know betta than them just bein’ there tah look fancy. There’s ah air o’ magic around ‘em of some sort…Ah can feel it in here.” He said, pointing to his curved, slightly gnarled horn. “Spill th’ beans, bird. Wha’ kind o’ magic are they?”

“They’re just a type of Gryphon magic called ‘Megin’ in the Old Tongue.” I explained proudly, holding up an arm for him to take a better look at my handiwork on the engraving. “These Runes can represent both words and objects in our ancient language and let me use Gryphon spells without needing special wands, staves or Rings like Equestria and the Griffins experimented with. They are both prayers to the Gods and a means to channel their magic which differs based upon the spell and which God it’s associated with.”

“Uh-huh…” He hummed, the wheels turning a bit on what probably was a brand new concept to him. “So…is it…ah religion ‘er ah school o’ magic?”

“Kind of a mix of the two?” I laughed apologetically as my culture was unusual to most people who bothered to ask about it. “There are many Gods in my homeland and they play a large, indirect role in our everyday lives. We…’worship’ them, to use an inaccurate but equivocal term, in what we do for a profession and any hobbies we enjoy. Finding a sense of contentment or happiness in what you do for a living gains you favor by whatever God is associated with that job or hobby who in turn can enhance your ability to perform in those tasks. Warriors who love battle can get increased strength or summon ethereal weapons while in combat, healers can perform far more effectively in their spells, smiths can gain insights into materials just by touching them, scholars can gain intuitions on specific interests…the list goes on for quite a long fucking time. There is something for everyone so all members of society can contribute to the world in some way or another. Not always for the better but we learned a long fucking time ago that fighting amongst ourselves in clan wars was a great way to hold ourselves back from what we could accomplish. As great as the spells we used back then were, they were still pretty primitive and relied more on brawn over brains. Once we started to come together to work with our brains is when our species rose to greatness. And no, I'm not just saying that out of rosy nostalgia. The Greifenländer was a truly majestic place and Gryphons are a strong, powerful and talented race. Our magic is a large part of how we were able to do it.”

“Damn…tha’...” He stuttered, blinking repeatedly and looking dazed. “Uh…wow.”

“Heh, sorry…bit wackier than the normal inner Aura thing or tapping into wild magic and shit isn’t it? But, I can’t say it’s bad because of it. If anything, the Greifenländer is heavily reliant on our old traditions in order to maintain…well, what makes us so unique.”

“Y’all are plenty unique…” He laughed with a grimace. “Wha’ makes yew guys different from th’ Griffins we all know ‘round these parts? Ya know, aside from th’ size n’ magic…”

“Well, you kinda helped transition me into the subject on your own soooo…thanks heh.” I replied with a smile, the steps taken fading into a familiar rhythm as we endured the monotone dunes of sand and dirt. “They emigrated to this Continent about ten-thousand years ago since the Griffinstone area was relatively similar to the climate back in the Greifenländer and they just wanted something new. Thing is…being physically removed from the homeland removes the very unique magic we coexist with back home and as time goes on, they started getting smaller and smaller. Both in average size and strength as well as in their capacity for magic. Cut back to even when I was born in the 1970s, Griffins were beyond a doubt a distinct species from us. Similar in a lot of ways, yes but…common’. They kept most of our love for working with our talons but the magic they use, excuse me…some of them use, is much more Equestrian than anything. I can still tap into the power of the Gods over here even if it’s not as strong this far from home but the Griffins? I honestly wonder if they even have enough of our genes left in them at this point to be ‘pure’ enough to even be recognized by the Gods. Generations of breeding with Equestrians and being exposed to your magic has made their spellwork much more like yours than ours.”

“Ah see…well, what are ya fuckin' waitin' for! Show meh!” He exclaimed with a grin of interest. “Woulda neva thunk yew birds had yer own fuckin’ magic…”

“Well, we don’t exactly like to flaunt it…” I chuckled sheepishly, sitting back to give me plenty of balance as I raised an arm up with open talons. “I’ve got a few to choose from but I’ll only let ya see one of them for a bit. It’s considered an insult to Krie to use his power outside of combat and I don’t like advertising I even have access to it to begin with. We don’t do it back home and I sure as hell ain’t gonna break that taboo here…that sorta thing has consequences.”

“Yup, well don’t waste no more time n’ show meh damnit!” He laughed, standing off to my side a bit with a grin of interest. “Ain’t ev’ry day ya get tah see somethin’ like this!”

I rolled my shoulders and took a moment to close my eyes and focus a bit. It was my own fault that I had wandered a bit in my commitment to Krie as doing acts of combat in his name was how he preferred his ‘worship’. I had done plenty of it back in the day when the Zebra-Equestrian War had been going strong but being cooped up in 39 had taken a toll on my ability to keep up with it. Endless days spent underground with little to do and few ways to have a good fight outside of the handful of people willing to hit the Stable gym to go a few rounds in the boxing ring they had. Being with the SR gave me more action but I knew better than to show off Megin spells in front of any of them. The only reason they had let me into the Order to begin with was thanks to Elder Lion Heart taking a liking to me after doing a few favors for them once I had made contact with one of their fringe patrols. Had I tried to join even five years later, I would have met Grigori as the Manehatten Field Elder and things would have turned out far differently. If I had known the SR were in more than Manehatten, I might have gone to one of the closer cities they controlled rather than haul ass across 800 miles of Wasteland that I wasn't really prepared for but only survived thanks to my Power Armor.

“Well?” He asked after a patient thirty-seconds of waiting.

“Shut up, it’s been awhile…” I growled, angry at myself for being out of practice which was exactly what I needed to use one spell in particular.

With some potent anger to work with, the Runes around my right bracer glowed a soft orange as a similarly orange flame sparked into existence in my open talons. The small orb of flame flickered and waved as it floated several inches above my palm and brought back good memories from a time two-hundred years ago and about sixty-miles South. It was…kinda pathetically small compared to the fireballs I had been able to hurl like candy against the Zeebs but Firefly was thankfully delighted all the same. I tossed it from hand to hand for a few moments before letting it die out with a silent thank-you to Krie for not cutting me off entirely.

“Well Ah’ll be damned!” He chuckled with a fangy grin. “Ain’t tha’ somethin’ else! Ah bird who can make fireballs in his goddamned talons like Ah Unicorn.”

“Heh…that was nothin’ compared to the shit I used to be able to cast back in the day but thanks, heh.” I laughed back feeling a bit more of that embarrassment from earlier. “A lot of the spells we used back before I came over here with my Squad weren’t so physically oriented as that one. Really, unless you were a solider or were involved in something pretty physical like mining, smithing or farming, most of the spells you would perform would be pretty intellectual.”

“Oh yeah? What ya mean by tha’?” He asked sincerely, keeping pace right beside me as we began again towards the foothills of the Embers near the marker on my map.

“Eh, basically unless you’re a soldier or the like, the spells most people perform are ones that either perform some specific task like healing or sewing, or, open up the mind to…inspirations. Soldiers can use spells that increase strength, pain tolerance, perception and plenty of other physical enhancements but there’s also more primitive spells that can summon weapons made of arcane energy directly into our talons on command.”

“Huh…sounds handy! Always havin’ ah weapon on hoof tha’ nopony else can use ‘er even see before it’s too damn late…wha’ kind yew got, eh?”

“Heh, sorry Firefly but I can’t say.” I replied with a hesitant laugh. “Already kinda shared a bit more than people back home would be comfortable with me sharing with an outsider. Nothin’ personal…just…another taboo I know better than to provoke for too long. ‘Tickling the Feral’s Tail’ as we said back home.”

He looked understandably disappointed but thankfully didn’t bitch about it or press me for details, simply nodding and responding, “Aight…tha’s fair. Things like tha’ about mah people Ah don’t wanna talk abou’ either. Thanks fer sharin’ anyhow! Tha’s some nifty shit yew Gryphons can do!”

“Thanks, it’s nice to get some compliments for once from someone.” I grinned, slapping him a bit on the back.

“Hey, Ah like tah be honest.” He grinned back, blushing softly in his glowing cheeks. “Saves meh ah lotta trouble tha’ comes from lyin’. ‘Sides, wha’ does ah Hunter got in this life ‘cept his word n’ his balls?”

“Heh, well prolly some good armor and weapons so he can do his job and not get his ass fucked in the not so fun way?” I suggested with a smirk.

“Well if we’re gunna add shit on like tha’, how ‘bout ah big, handsome fuckbuddy?” He retorted with a smirk of his own.

“Uh…yeah.” I chuckled sheepishly. “I mean…if uh…that’s what you want. I mean, not for nothing but we were both fucking wasted last night…I was worried you might think I took advantage of ya for that.”

“Aw shut it.” He chuckled softly. “Ah thought yew was ah good looker fer ah bird but Ah ain’t neva thought Ah would end up takin’ ya up th’ ass…but, can’t say Ah ain’t into it now it’s all said n’ done. ‘Course…takes two tah tango as they say, yew down tah explore this ah bit mo’?”

It was a far cry from the craziest thing I had ever done, even sexually, so…what the fuck? Was it a ‘relationship’? No…no, I wasn’t cut out for one of those sappy things but this? Kicking ass with a genuinely cool guy who knew his shit with the option to occasionally fuck him senseless and get some tastes of what a relationship has to offer? I mean…I’d have to be a complete idiot to let the chance go to waste. He seemed to like being around me and was going to be tagging along for awhile anyway so why not make the most of a happy chance meeting?

“Fuck it.” I replied with a grin at the Ling who grinned right back up at me. “I’m down for a bit of exploring.”

**********

Chapter 8: Echoes in the Mountains

It was a new experience to be on the road with someone for once. It wasn’t like the Order hadn’t paired me up with other Knights and Paladins for extended field ops in the past, I had done plenty of that over the years. However, that was time all spent with snobbish, racist asshats who had personalities as dense as the armor they wore with absolutely nothing interesting to say. They were smart, no doubts about that given their formal education by the Scribes, but they were so sheltered by life in the Order that they came to feel like carbon-copy clones of one another. Whenever the Equestrian-Zebrican War was brought up, it was always infected by legends and hearsay and I soon learned to never try and correct them. I wasn’t born ‘in the Covenant’ as they called it and they only tolerated me thanks to Elder Lion Heart and, after his untimely death, my talent for killing. Even then though, I was kept on a short leash only sent with larger groups on less important salvage ops so my treachery could be safely contained. They hated me and I hated them right back. There was no simpler relationship.

And now here I was, an Outcast to that Order I had spent the last half-century serving under traveling alongside one of the most dynamic soldier boys I had met in some time. Firefly was everything they weren’t: interesting. For starters, his most obvious trait was being a Changeling and a Glowing One at that, but that did nothing to detract from how I viewed him. The arcane radiation that mutated him into a walking glowstick had seemed to agree with his adaptable genes and he seemed to suffer no ill-effects from his ‘transformation’. His brain was sharp and his wit and humor were even sharper causing me to laugh more in a single day than I had in decades. He knew what it was like to wander alone taking on big targets for lack of anything better to do. Even more so, he knew what it was like to be an outsider; apart from the rest due to who and what we are…and yet, he didn’t let that shit stand in the way of him climbing his way into a position of respect. The NER knew and respected him enough to be willing to let him go but continue to hire him after his unceremonious resignation from First Recon, and within the Syndicate, his name was one most knew. He had carved out his own little slice of the pile, slapped his name deep onto the damn thing and made something of himself on his own terms. And for that…I was both impressed and enamored with him.

“Helloooo! It’s yer turn, Garand!”

“Huh…?” I hummed, looking towards the Ling trotting alongside me. “Oh…sorry. Got stuck on a train of thought and forgot to get off at my stop. Uhhh…what’s the clue again?”

“Ugh…600rpm, short-recoil action, smashes through most shit an’ is prolly as old as yer sexy ass.” He repeated with a smirk. “Made it ah damned easy one since yer so caught up in yer birdbrain, heh heh.”

“Uhh…oh, duh. The fuckin’ M2… Common dude, that’s just wasting both our time with that weak shit. Gimme something tough!”

“Well ain’t th’ point of this here game tah waste time?” He asked, jutting a hoof out to the low rolling dunes for miles and miles around us. “Walkin’ through th’ desert wit’ nothin’ tah talk about ain’t th’ way Ah wanna travel, pardner. Aight, fine. Uhh…hmmm…”

“Take your time, heh.” I laughed with a soft snort and a smile as I waited for him to come up with his clues. “I asked for a hard one so that means I’ll be giving you one too once it’s my turn. Got a perfect fucker in mind…”

After a minute or so he replied, “Sidearm, weaker side o’ strong, dual-action wit’ lots o’ barrel options, tried and true an’ well-loved by law enforcement back in th’ day.”

“Oh…well there could be a decent number of possible candidates for that.” I hummed in response as my mind crunched through the possibilities. “Is it a semi-auto?”

“Nope! Two left!”

“Fine, so it’s a revolver then. That makes it easier…Model 32?”

“Nope! One guess left!” He grinned though he had lost the moment he chose a police-issue revolver.

“S&W Model 27.” I replied flatly before breaking out in a grin of my own as his turned to a scowl of disappointment. “Yes! Fuck you and your vague shit, that’s how we do it!”

“Goddamnit, thought Ah had ya wit’ tha’ one…” He grumbled, kicking some sandy dirt against my armor with a soft clatter of small rocks. “Fine, gimme yer stupid clue.”

“Gas-operated, rotary breech box-fed assault rifle.” I said with the biggest shiteating grin imaginable knowing he wouldn’t have a chance at guessing this one.

“Excuse meh, ah rotary breech? Wha’ in tarnation is tha’?!” He exclaimed in dismay. “Hey, common tha’ ain’t fair!”

“You earned yourself an extra hard one by going twice in a row and for one of those times being lame as fuck. Want me to throw you a bone?”

“Grr…fine! Leave some meat on tha’ damn bone will ya? I need more tah go off of…”

“Full-auto capable with a unique 3-round hyperburst mode, caseless ammunition.” I replied, basically handing him the answer if he even remotely knew this prototype’s specs.

“Hyperburst? Wait, caseless ammo?! Garand, what in th’ hell are ya talkin’ about?! What sorta goddamned rifle be runnin’ around wit’ no fuckin’ brass in its magazine?! Th’ fuck does it shoot?? Hopes n’ fuckin’ dreams?!”

I couldn’t help but laugh good and hard at how flustered he was getting over the revelation that not all guns shot brass cased bullets. The technology had never really taken off even back home where it was invented as removing that protective sheath of metal created a multitude of complications. Ultimately the weapon proved capable but the ammunition designed for it left a lot to be desired leaving them ultimately as another wall decoration for the lead engineers or as a time waster for those with access given they had made way too much ammo for the project. All that to say…the design never left the homeland but, some of the design documents were disseminated abroad, always leaving a small chance he might have seen it. Even if the chance was miniscule at best, it still made it a technically valid choice for our stupid little game. It was admittedly pretty unfair to the poor Ling but he was asking for it.

“I ain’t pulling your tail on this one.” I laughed, patting him reassuringly on the back. “Caseless ammo is definitely a thing, it just never really became a big thing due to problems like cook-off and cracking of the propellent body housing the projectile. They tinkered around with malleable propellants until they managed to find a blend that could combust with predictable regularity and then cast them into special molds. They were hollowed out, stuffed with a lead projectile and capped off with a primer at one end and a plastic cap on the other to protect the projectile.”

“Bullshit…” He snorted while cocking his eyebrow with amused curiosity. “Why th’ fuck did they even go to all tha’ effort? Sounds ah lot more trouble than it’d be worth… Ah mean, did th’ damned things even work?”

“Oh they definitely worked.” I assured him, happy memories bubbling to the surface. “Had the pleasure of growing up best friends with the son of one of the engineers who worked on the project and got to shoot the prototype rifle he got to take home with him once the project had been canceled. The rifle…it’s a weird looking fucker, I’ll tell ya that much. Kinda feels like holding a big old 4x4 with a pistol grip and an integrated scope but that hyperburst mode…mmmff…goddamn that thing fires so fuckin’ fast. All three rounds are downrange before you even feel the recoil hit ya.”

“Damn, tha’ fast eh? Yew birds make some damned fine guns so Ah guess Ah ain’t surprised y’all mad fucks went an’ made some goddamned monstrosity like tha’, heh. Still…why go caseless? Sounds like ah whole RadRoach nest o’ problems…”

“Beats me…” I admitted, having never thought to ask the question myself back when I had the chance to ask one of the creators themselves. “Though…if I were to slap down a guess, I would put my bets on sheer boredom.”

“Pardon me if Ah don’t follow…”

“Heh…lemme put it to ya like this. Gryphons were at peace with ourselves and our neighbors for centuries up until the War leaving us with a lot of time to explore shit other than the art of killing each other. War is in our blood and once we got dragged into everyone else’s problem, we found ourselves with most of our attention focused back on developing weapons and such and our kind tends to hyperfocus. If we’re not inventing as part of an assigned project, we’re inventing in our free time just to stave off boredom and explore ideas that come to us elsewhere. In other words…caseless ammo was probably a eureka moment that came after a long night of work, and probably some mountain mead, and everyone else involved was like, ‘Fuck it, why not?’ It’s happened more than once and it’s the reason everyone gets to enjoy High Explosive Anti-Armor munitions.”

“Oh? Y’all made them scary bastards?” He asked with some surprise but also the look of someone who knew it made sense. “Huh…guess Ah give Equestrian tech too much credit.”

“Heh, you’re not the only one.” I snorted in response. “This country wouldn’t have gotten its legs under itself as a nation without lots of outside help. Hell, the Dwem of the Canterlot Mountains are responsible for the majority of the ancient structures that survived all the bullshit this Continent went through millennia ago. The Royal Palace and the Old City of Canterlot is probably the only surviving thing they built that didn’t end up abandoned and forgotten about. Everfree is supposed to be chock full of ‘em but I missed my chance to explore the forest back when it was more survivable and I’m not keen on wandering around that cursed place.”

“Th’...Dwem…?” He asked with complete confusion, something I wasn’t surprised to see. “Who in th’ hell…?”

“They’re a distinct subspecies of Gryphon that sided with the Gods Under the Earth anciently and as a result are all rather short, have a thing for precious metals and gems and live almost exclusively underground. They can dig and tunnel better than anyone. Well, minus maybe the Direwolves and Hellhounds but they don’t dig nearly as deep or efficiently as the Underkingdoms. The Dwem have massive underground cities all across the world almost anywhere there is an extensive mountain range.”

“So…burrowing Gryphons? But don’t y’all got wings? Why live in caves n’ shit? Ain’t like Ah can say much livin’ in ah mine but I come up fer air regularly n’ interact wit’ th’ outdoors.”

“Well to be honest, they suffer from a similar problem that Gryphons do. We’ve got wings but they are either too small to fly very well as with the Dwem or, in our case, we are just too goddamn heavy to fly efficiently. Most of us only just glide from place to place since we can manage that pretty well but actually soaring around like fuckin’ Rainbow Dash or the Shadowbolts? Not a fuckin’ chance in hell.”

“Heh heh, too fat tah fly?” He snorted while trying to hold back a laugh. “Is tha’ why ya walk everywhere too?”

“Ha ha, very funny…” I groaned while slapping my breastplate with a loud clang. “They make flight-capable PoA but it weighs half of what mine does and isn’t nearly as protective. Even without the armor, my right wing is fuckin’ busted from taking a Zebra sword right across the bottom of the joint and slicing some tendons. With all the triage going on in the Stable in the days following the door closing, they kept prioritizing the ponies and even the Zeebs over treating me. By the time they rolled their eyes and couldn’t stop saying there were others to help first, the damage to the area was beyond their ability to heal conventionally and none of the Ministry of Peace Healers made it inside on time. I was shit outta luck on getting it repaired without an expert and none of the StableTec doctors were trained to that level. Buncha nursing students, I swear to fuck…”

“Damn…ain’t tha’ a bitch…” He mumbled in thought, glancing towards the wing in question. “No chance o’ fixin’ it now neither. Dunno if anypony alive has tha’ sorta talent wit’ healin’ magic. Wait…th’ Tin Heads couldn’t fix it either?”

I snorted in poor hidden disgust before I replied, “Hell fucking no. Well, more in like they probably could’ve with one of those Mrk. V AutoDocs but they only allowed members on the Council of Order access to those things. Same with the Apothecaries who had any real talent.”

“Uhh…Apo-what now?” He asked, looking like the archaic word didn’t agree with his mouth. “Yew Tin Heads n’ yer damned fancy words…”

“Apothecary.” I sighed with a bit of a chuckle. “It’s an old term used to describe the basic idea of medical practice wayyyy back in the day. The SR decided the term sounded cooler than Doctor and like other shit from the past, they just took it and used it for themselves. The fact you don’t even know the term is proof that they can get away with this shit too and even convince people they’re the ones who came up with these terms. People might not like the Order but there’s always some starry-eyed colt who sees the old propaganda posters and wants to join up as a Brother in Steel based off the mysticism alone.”

“Heh heh, th’ NER Rangers n’ First Recon kinda have ah similar thing wit’ them too.” He chuckled, glancing down at his armor. “What boy wouldn’t look up tah a gun-totin’ badass in ah cowboy duster n’ old world combat armor? Especially when it was th’ face o’ th’ boys who kicked out th’ SR, heh heh. Tah be frank, it’s why mah mentor ended up in th’ Army.”

“Oh? Do you mean the…DeadEye is it? Yeah, the DeadEye who gave you your armor?”

“Heh, yeah. Guess it’s kinda obvious tha’ he was mah mentor. Ya don’t just go n’ willingly give th’ Black Armor tah someone who ain’t earned it. They’re th’ ones who decide if their student is worthy o’ th’ title.”

“Ahh, so you were probably acting as his spotter then eh? Glad to see your best guys are willing to work with raw talent even if it comes from an…unusual source, heh. Well congrats on earning the promotion. I know it wasn’t exactly on the best of terms but…he did find you worthy all the same. I can respect a stallion who went through the paces needed to earn something meaningful over a skavver who just found the armor off a corpse and decided to add DeadEye to his fake resume for some clout.”

He seemed to bristle a bit at that and I could tell I had hit a nerve somewhere. There was no shortage of fakes in the gun-for-hire world since anyone with some money, or luck, can end up with equipment that eclipses their actual level of skill. A lot of stock can be put on appearances alone and someone dressed like they know what they’re doing can have a lot of weight to throw around amongst common folk.

“Sweet mother o’ fuck Ah HATE them skeevy lil’ fucks wit’ every goddamned piece o’ mah being.” He growled. “Ah make it ah personal duty tah relieve them liars o’ their stolen property. Might not be my own Black Armor but Ah won’t let some punk wit’ no respect fer th’ work real DeadEye put inta gettin’ the respect tha’ comes wit’ th’ title.”

“Heh, then we have something else we can relate over.” I laughed with a grin. “The way those Raiders abused and corrupted beautiful Power Armor with stupid shit like spikes and sloppy war paint pissed me off in more ways than I care to admit…”

“Ah know! Ya fuckin’ turned ‘em all inta a goddamned crater fer it.” He laughed heartily, the earlier tension in his body relaxing. “Glad someone else respects their equipment n’ who wears it. Hate how many dumbasses think just ‘cause they got th’ gear, they magically get th’ skills along wit’ it. Then they go n’ paint ‘em up like hot shit ‘er try tah make em ‘badass’ when all they be doin’ is makin’ them look like ah buncha ignorant foals.”

“What can I say? You don’t just earn cool shit in this world without working hard for it and showing the ones supplying it you were worth the cost of upgrading. Back in the day, the General Army of Equestria wouldn’t even issue body armor to new recruits until they lived long enough to see Corporal. Honestly it was just a case study in survival of the fittest but it was effective if you ignore the piles of dead Privates supporting the weight of the war effort. When you had what it took to live for longer than the first six months in those shitholes, you had potential and they would try to help keep you alive relative to how long you kept on kicking.”

“Ain’t tha’ th’ truth…though Ah guess th’ NER are ah bit better off than y’all was back then. Radagator leather ain’t cheap tah import from East o’ th’ Gap but th’ armor they make from it holds its own far as small-arms goes. Ain’t perfect but it beats protectin’ yer hide wit’ nothin’ but ah uniform.”

“Yeah, Radagator leather is surprisingly tough when cured properly. Not sure what process they use to harden it so well but if you want my opinion, it’s probably something they learned from the descendant of a Zebra Alchemist or one of their texts. Why? Well…they were incredibly resourceful during the war and didn’t have mounds and mounds of iron to work with like most of us did. When the War took off, imports stopped so they had to rely on reserves and the inadequate production from home grown mining operations. They had coal and copper coming outta their ears as well as gold and silver but they really didn’t have much when it came to hard metal deposits. Soooo, they instead turned to their ways of magic to try and fill in the gaps.”

“Damn…so they made shit like Radagator leather armor ‘er somethin’?” He asked rather naively. “Crazy tah think that ain’t ah new idea.”

“I mean in a way, yeah. Minus the fact that species is a Post-War byproduct but anyway. They used their potions to cure hides with the strength of Dragon scales, reshaped stone to be both light and non-brittle…fuck, they even started growing fucking trees imbedded with metal. You could find Shaman in the Empire proper wearing armor of literal Ironwood tree bark and carved planks. So no, it wouldn’t surprise me if whatever they do to cure those hides originally came from the Empire. These days it doesn’t really matter where shit comes from, long as it keeps you and the people you love alive and well it’s usually free game out here. People don’t tend to care who made what or who was loyal to what faction back then when it comes to how their end products end up benefiting them in the now. Long as the bullet fires or the potion heals…does it really matter if it was made by a Zeeb or an Equestrian or a Gryphon?”

“Uhh…not really? Most folks don’t know enough about th’ past tah really be invested in anythin’ tah do wit’ it.” He replied with a shrug. “Like ya said, if it works well then what’s th’ sense in askin’ where it came from? Easy answer fer most ponies is tah just say, ‘It came from back then’ and be done wit’ it. Griffin, Zebra, Equestrian…don’t mean much when everyone is survivin’ togetha.”

“Agreed. Glad to see everything everyone fought for back then was basically pointless.” I chuckled with a hint of bitter cynicism. “Ah well…end of the day, if you have questions about what happened back then, ask away. Can’t guarantee I’ll know everything but Stable 39 had a good holo-library and it helped me keep stuff fresh in my head.”

“Ain’t everyday ya get ah personal tour guide to th’ past! Ah already got tha’ impression from all th’ shit Ah’ve heard so far from ya. No rosy glasses, no long-ass shpeels on th’ glory of th’ old world…buncha bullshit ain’t worth listenin’ to. Plenty o’ ‘experts’ out there who gotta hold offa book ‘er two n’ thinks their th’ next Twilight Sparkle…”

“Heh heh, couldn’t have put it better myself! The past is ugly and basically everyone in some way was in the fucking wrong back then. Any sense of national solidarity is vague at best these days and we are all the better for it since that’s the shit that brought us all this wonderful radiation.”

We fell into another natural silence as we continued our trek, Firefly following my lead since I was the only one who could actually see where we needed to go. Our direct access to the muted sunlight was lost under the towering shade of the mountains some time ago during our winding conversation and we were within a few miles of our target area. The landscape was somewhat familiar even after fifty years and every now and again we would pass a rock formation or two that I would vaguely remember from my original journey from the Stable. It was wild to think that I had passed by this same service road back then without even knowing it. Outpost Zeta was still a nebulous bunker somewhere up in the Embers and could be just a tiny listening post housing a prototype hearing enhancement device for all we knew. But…it could just as easily be an untouched goldmine of tech and weapons similar to the Manehattan National Guard Bunker they cracked open before I went East. With Grigori making moves of his own along with a Platoon of his best this far from his assigned Chapter area…he had to be certain this was a geode worth cracking open.

Our only solace was in the fact we had some semblance of a head start on the group. We had left as early as we could and, even with the slow start, we made good time in this home stretch portion of the trip. Of course, there was still the problem of how we were going to drive them off and prevent the road’s location from being broadcast… At least I felt somewhat comfy thinking Grigori would be too obsessed with the personal glory to want to share any info over the wider network. Well, that and the fact they had no active radio relay stations in the West anymore so getting a signal out East would be very iffy at best. Far as killing them was concerned, the plastic explosives Firefly was hauling with us were our only real hope in this situation. Paladins in T-51s would be the lowest common denominator in our problem while the Elder, his personal guard and select Star Paladins would be wearing the superior T-60 model with their Celestium plating and heavy-hitting weapons packages. Our options were annoyingly limited and I couldn’t help but silently doubt the logic of passing up some launchers for an exotic LMG with an absurd fire rate. That…and I couldn’t help but feel my necklace of charms wiggle and tug subtly on my neck warning of some unknown danger.

“Yew look ah bit worried, all good?” Firefly asked, breaking my train of thought.

“Heh, well I guess I would be stupid to say I wasn’t at least a little nervous about this fight we got ahead of us.” I admitted with a forced laugh. “We’re as well prepared as we can be given our situation and timing but all the same…we are seriously lacking the kinda shit needed to punch through even a T-51. I can’t even imagine what the 60s are capable of handling under normal combat scenarios but with how much of a bitch they were to cut and weld together to patch my armor, I’m not optimistic.”

“Oh? Yew don’t even know wha’ their fancy new armor can do?” He asked with a hint of skepticism in his voice. “After all tha’ good shit yew spouted on th’ 51s?”

“Yeah, yeah…shut up. The 60s weren’t even officially deployed before the Great War, damnit. The 300 something units they found in that facility were the only 60s to be developed; the first batch of mass-produced models that were apparently supposed to enter service sometime the next year. I spent years with the 51s and 45s and even some of the lesser fielded models like the 35, 47 and 50…got plenty of time to take most of them apart and put ‘em back together again. The T-60 is brand-spanking new, the best shit to come outta the Ministry of War. Never got anywhere close to them during my time with the Order and those hit squads wearing them that were sent after me…well, I didn’t exactly fight fair. Barely any of them are competent in anything close quarters so they leave their necks and other chinks in the armor wide open for me.”

“Bit o’ knife work, eh?” He chuckled with a smirk. “Ain’t neva had tah face ah Tin Head any closer than 800 yards but good tah know! Any chance o’ sidearms gettin’ through them bits?”

“Like your Pügers?” I asked, nodding to the Gryphon toggle-locks at his waist. “Ehhh…I seriously doubt it. 9mm ain’t exactly a heavy hitter or known for penetration when against Kevyarn. Not exactly sure what minimum caliber you’d need to punch through the undersuit at point-blank range but I would suspect something at least .44 Magnus or above in power.”

“Damn, ah see why ya went fer ah knife then. Though Ah gotta assume yer revolver did some nasty work on ‘em at tha’ range.”

I sighed happily as I patted the holster across my breastplate and replied, “Damn straight she did good work on those bastards! Little bit of grappling to find an opening, stuff the barrel in there and boom. Guaranteed to kill! Or at the very least severely fuck them up and leave them wide open for a follow-up that’ll finish the job. I’ll admit the 60s are hard to find a chink in but the joints are always a safe bet to aim for since you can only armor an area meant to flex so much before movement starts getting too hard.”

“Ya know, Ah gotta ask…how do they armor yer wings? Ain’t like th’ SR got any birds ‘er Pegusi flyin’ around doin’ shit fer ‘em so none of us really thought abou’ someone wit’ wings wearin’ PoA.”

“Well, ironically that same question encapsulates everything I was just talking about. How do you protect a joint like a wing? It’s gotta bend and flex and move around like a wing if the dude is gonna fly properly but of course you have the problem of the wing being basically the most sensitive piece of shit ever. Sooo…you got three options. One is to just leave it bare for maximum maneuverability but all-but-guaranteeing that wing will get hit by something eventually. Option two is ya armor up the wing along the topside leaving the more aerodynamic underside free to let you fly better but leaves the wings exposed to being shot through while in flight. And then of course option three is to entomb the whole damn thing in armor and kiss the skies goodbye.”

“Can ya even fly wit’ yer wing’s encased in armor?” He asked poignantly. “Seems like it’d be impossible…”

“Well, you gotta remember Sentient species with wings aren’t exactly supposed to be able to fly as well as we do based on aerodynamics alone. Not to mention how much drag we should be creating and all the other scientific nuances that prove we all share one thing in common: we all can fly anyway. This planet is fucking brimming with magic. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of disciplines are out there using different ways to channel it and we are all born with some connection to that mass of magic we live on. How we interact with that magic varies from species to species. Some can directly control magic while some of us just have it as a passive effect allowing us to somewhat defy gravity.”

“So…yer sayin’ folks wit’ wings got some sorta air magic in ‘em?”

“Absolutely. There’s no other fucking way any of us could fucking fly without it! Minus, you know, actual fuckin’ birds n’ shit who actually have the right proportions to fly normally. Ya get any bigger than like a turkey and you’ll be finding it hard to do more than be able to jump really far with the help of your wings. Us bigger species have a lot more lift under our wings than we have any right to, can stand on and interact with clouds like clay and it can’t be explained any other way than it’s an inborn magic we all share.”

“So…wha’ does all tha’ have tah do wit’ Power Armor?”

“Everything. Just like how in Unicorns there’s varying levels of talent with using their horns to manipulate magic, there’s the same kind of uneven distribution of inherent skill over the skies. There’s some out there who have the ability to fly no matter how much you weigh them down thanks to a mixture of brute physical strength and a natural affinity for the air. Even Type III armor, the kind that wraps up every inch of the body including the wings, ain’t an issue for this kind of natural talent. I can remember a few I knew back in the day who were like that…born with their legs off the ground, Soul in the sky sorta shit. Hell, one of ‘em was even a Griffin! Flew in the heaviest armor they had available and still outperformed his peers in aerial dogfighting and agility courses. Wish I could remember his name…he had a lot of potential.”

“Huh…so he could fly wit’ his whole darn wing plated up wit’ steel? Goddamn… Old Steel Ranger pal from th’ War?”

“Nah, some guy from the Desert Rangers Corps of all places.” I laughed, thinking back on how much everyone picked on them despite their stellar record. “Think I taught him a bit about the Gryphon Gods actually now that I think about it… Never really got to see him after that one meeting but I hope he managed to get some recognition for his flying talent.”

“Heh, well ain’t tha’ somethin’... How close we gettin’ anyway?”

I hobbled forwards a bit awkwardly as I raised my left leg to my face to glimpse at my PipBuck rather than face the minor inconvenience of putting my helmet on. The mountains towered above us to our left and the terrain was much more hilly now that we had reached the foothills; barren as ever save for the occasional suicidal plant or random chunks of rock scattered about. I was going to be glad to be surrounded by true mountains again, even if they weren’t anything like those in the Greifenländer.

“Uhh…looks like we are gettin’ in the neighborhood.” I replied, looking up from my leg and glancing along the length of the foothills in front of us. “Say another…what, quarter-mile or so? She said it was obvious it was a road so long as we take it a bit slow and careful, we should find the bitch.”

“Good. Ah’m excited tah see this place! Ah mean, it’s too early tah be countin’ our hens but can’t help but git a lil’ excited over crackin’ open ah brand new bunker! All th’ good ones been plucked clean long before Ah joined th’ NER so somethin’ like this is ah big event!”

He then stopped right in his tracks looking livid as all hell. As I turned to ask him what was the matter, he blurted out, “Gawd fuckin’ damn it! Ah forgot tah bring ah fresh bottle o’ whiskey fer th’ occasion! Ol’ Pinfire would have mah tail nailed to th’ wall fer this sorta offense tah tradition…”

“Uh…I take it you NER boys took commemorative shots when cracking open a fresh bunker?” I guessed with a hesitant laugh.

“Yer damned right we did!” He replied with a grin which ended with a sigh. “Like Ah said, ain’t many good ones left tah find now n’ ah good one can earn all involved a tasty medal ‘er somethin’. Back in th’ day, supposedly th’ ol’ military brass used tah throw a lotta weight around when boys under their command found one of ‘em. Tech and weapons tha’ come outta them places usually makes life better fer th’ Republic so folks who find ‘em get all sorts o’ bribes tah give credit tah ah Colonel ‘er ah Sergeant fer their promotion.”

“And nowadays it’s just more a minor thing to celebrate?”

“Yup. Biggest bitch Ah saw was this ol’ hidey hole we found out in the deserts between New Pegasus n’ Applewood. Some weird fuck hid her in ah sinkhole, stashed away ah buncha Chems, them fancy hazmat suit thangs n’ medical supplies in ah cave. Weren’t no military shit but th’ Republic eggheads were over th’ fuckin’ moon about some o’ th’ shit we hauled home. There was some mighty fine AutoDocs stashed away in there… Old models fer sure but better than nuthin! Command was pleased when th’ Docs came back n’ told ‘em we could now treat much worse injuries than before at twice th’ speed.”

“Huh…well glad they at least respect the value of the find even if it wasn’t of ‘tactical value’ in that sense. I’m sure they woulda loved something like a crate of missiles or a box of CFCs but you gotta take care of people too. Especially when you’ve got civilians to account for and not just military personnel”

“Ain’t tha’ true.” He chuckled, kicking at a loose rock and sending it bouncing across the sand for a few feet. “Lotta civies in th’ Republic fer sure…spread far n’ wide across th’ Midwest; lotta territory tah monitor n’ ah helluva lot more border tah patrol. Th’ peace between us n’ th’ Steel Rangers ain’t been kind on th’ number o’ fresh recruits comin’ in or them veterans wantin’ tah reenlist. If th’ Tin Heads wanted tah invade…now is ah better time than any in th’ last thirty years. Army’s down by half, Republic Rangers are all up North doin’ Gods know what and th’ Gap o’ Canterlot is run by ah skeleton crew.”

“That bad, huh?” I sighed, glancing behind us towards the distant Gap. “Well…for what it’s worth, I doubt anything more will follow behind these bastards. There hasn’t been talk of a second invasion in over twenty years now; I can remember reading the minutes for these Grand Council meetings and the last proponent of even thinking about poking our beak West is the same asshat who’s attacking now. Hell, invading the West became a sort of inside fucking joke in the barracks; a fuckin’ masterpiece of stupid ideas worthy of being used as a metric of reference for other stupid ideas. Grigori is the only one bold enough to push the Gap and if we succeed…well, it’ll only further humiliate them into staying contained in the East.”

“Hope tah fuck yer right…” He groaned before fading into silence.

Having the sun blocked out so well was a blessing for me as my stahlhelm was like a sponge for hot sunlight and turned my head into an oven. I just wasn’t a fan of these places being a Gryphon and coming from a country with mountains twice as high as the Embers and a high summer temperature capping around 70 degrees in the lowlands.The shade was also helpful with eyesight since I wasn’t having to fight Celestia’s shiny ass to play eye-spy with a wall of mountains. Thankfully though, we struck paydirt after another few minutes of walking. Hidden rather well in a narrow crack in the rock wall beside us was the flat-ish band of dirt we were looking for, a wide service road that blended in well with its surroundings so it could only be found at near point-blank range. The rush of pride and adrenaline for the upcoming fight had me feeling like a bolt of lightning had singed my feathers and got the blood pumping for real.

“Well hot damn!” He exclaimed as we rounded the small bluff that hid away the exit/entrance to the road. “Damned place does exist after all…if Lager weren’t runnin’ th’ joint Ah’d buy her th’ whole damned bar! We’re damned lucky she had th’ inside scoop on this thang.”

“Right? Jeez it’s fucking wide…” I replied, eying the width of the road with surprise. “Could run Falke side-by-side up this bitch with room to spare! They hid this shit better than they had any right to for lacking any sort of magical concealment.”

“Hey, least tha’ worked to our advantage right?” He chuckled with a smirk. “Don’t look like nopony been here yet, road’s clean as ah spitshine.”

“Thank fuck for that…” I sighed, glancing over the untouched dirt crawling up into the unknown. “Looks like this is the home stretch! Lemme take a look at the GIMP before we start wandering around the Embers. I’ll see if I can guestimate us an ETA on Grigori and his posse so we know how much time we have to set up. Even going our pace this morning we still made good time here, so here’s hoping we have enough time to at least locate the way inside the Outpost. Place ya bets!”

“Hmm…an hour ‘er so. You?”

“Eh…Imma go with two hours. I’m feelin’ optimistic today, heh heh. Might take a minute so this is a great time for a snack. Mind finding me somethin’?”

He nodded, sitting down with his saddlebags to pick through them while I plopped my helmet over my head and waited a half-second for the HUD to connect to my PipBuck. The ease of just thinking my way through the menus was something I tried not to take for granted; the secure connection between my rig and the satellite forming and bringing up the latest snapshot with an overlay of our current position posted. The plumes of dust and petrol smoke was as easy to identify as before, marking their progress along the foothills some twenty miles to our North. Their pace had slowed by roughly half now that they had come within striking distance of their target; a smart move given the road was something that could rather easily be missed going full speed ahead. All things considered, we had been blessed with a solid head start. We had two-ish hours to explore with most of another one available to spend setting up an ambush for our prey. Given my current optimism, I felt safe in adding something else to my list of hopes, finding some sort of serviceable ordinance to use against the Falke somewhere in an armory.

“Well, pay up bitch! Looks like we have almost three hours to blow!” I laughed as I pulled off my helmet and hung it back on my side. “They slowed way the fuck down since the last sweep so we have some time to actually look for the Outpost before we need to start setting up our ambush. Can’t say how long it’ll take to find the door leading to the good shit but I gotta feelin’ we’re on a winning streak.”

“Well wha’ th’ fuck we waitin’ for?!” He replied with a grin, charging forward to begin the climb into the mountains. “Common! Time’s ah wastin’!”

“I’m commin’, just a second…”

Within twenty steps we were already enveloped by the mountains, sheer cliffs of muddy red stone hugging the road on either side. The path was clearly carved right through a slump between two peaks but was set at a rather gentle incline, the kind that let you know the road to the base was still a ways off yet. Soon enough however, the claustrophobia gave way to vertigo as the cliffs went from towering over us to us being on top of another set of them overlooking a deep canyon in the reddish brown rock. The road itself continued to lead lazily along the rim of this canyon, winding ahead into the mess of craigy peaks around us and remained relatively flat and even. For two centuries of Post-War weather chaos, it was still a smooth ride up and was definitely still usable by armored vehicles. All this being said, we had been handed prime real estate for an explosive ambush and it wouldn’t take much to trigger a landslide. Entombing them in tonnes of stone was an honestly underwhelming way to deal with the situation, but with the equipment we had…it was our best shot.

“So…what ya wanna bet is in th’ armory?” He asked after a few minutes of silent walking and ignoring the gorge to our right. “Ah’m bored already o’ this damned canyon shit…”

“Sure, I’ll humor ya some more.” I snorted with a wink. “Ya gonna hit me with a safe bet or something a bit more shaky?”

“Yew first! Ah asked ya first so yew answer first!” He whined, his voice echoing around us softly amidst the stony walls.

“Ugh…fine. Imma go big and say I hope, er…bet, that we find a Dart-88 in there! Or something like that…just…gods do we need some HEAA on our side. I’m worried about the explosives not being enough to take out their heavy armor.”

“Ah get ya, it ain’t like Ah ever had tah fight them Falkie thangs n’ yew would know betta than meh about what they can take. Buuuut, tha’ ain’t th’ game now! Imma go safe n’ say ah buncha 2012s!”

“...sweet fuck you really shot low with that one…” I groaned while rubbing my eyes. “Of course you would choose that shit.”

“Th’ fuck ya got against them?!” He cried, glaring at me a bit as if I had insulted him personally.

“Nothin’! I just don’t like ‘em is all.” I replied with a shrug, thinking that would be enough to move us on from the topic before we broke down into an argument over semantics. Naturally though, I had struck a nerve and the conversation was ensured a lengthy topic to cover for the next while.

“N’ why th’ fuck not?? It’s ah terrific gun!”

“Uh-huh, still doesn’t make me have to like it. It’s nothing special.”

"Ah'm tellin' yew, it ain't no goddamned slouch damnit!"

"And I'm telling you I don't fucking care if it can sing and dance and suck me off, I don't fucking want a 2012 in my fuckin' holster damnit! They're overrated as fuck and everyone with a decent budget has one!"

This was a hill I was willing to die on. I had no personal hatred for the iconic semi-autos but their sheer abundance had significantly cheapened their worth to me. The attachments and upgrades that had been released for the civilian and military markets were made in such numbers that anyone with some extra spending caps could slap on a red-dot, laser sight and tactical flashlight at any major gun store. Was it reliable, time and battle tested with a superb record? Absolutely! Did that win me over to its side and make my gun collection lonely? Absolutely not.

"Look, all Ah'm sayin' is .45 Automag is ah damned fine round and can do some serious damage at close range."

"What, and .454 can't? I don't see the point you're trying to make here, Firefly."

"That ain't mah point damnit! Yew think yer so fuckin' high 'n mighty with tha' there revolver 'o yers but Ah ain't eva seen one of 'em an' Ah love wheelguns! Plus, it's made by th' same goddamn company as th' 2012!"

"The fuck does that matter? Unforgiven is part of a limited-edition run made just for Griffin Rangers who wanted something special and was a fuckin' military contract with my homeland. The model is one of our really old designs that I have a lot of memories with back in the day, so when I had the chance to get one in a bigass caliber, I fuckin' took the opportunity! Who cares if FillyArms made both of them, this one is just better!"

"Still think it's ah damn fine pistol, Garand...yew ain't gunna change mah mind."

"Don't need to, I'm right."

"Oh fuck yew...what ya got against 'em anyway? They're everywhere 'cause ponies know they're damned good!"

I grinned with glee now that he had inadvertently broke the floodgates on this topic and was eager to educate him on my opinions on the matter. Whether or not he agreed didn't really matter, I just wanted the chance to bitch.

"Ohhhh boy...lemme tell ya! They have limited customization options off the bat unless you get someone to put a rail on it or learn to do it yourself, you only get seven fucking rounds that aren't that fast and don't do shit to even basic Kevyarn body armor that's worth a damn..."

"Alrigh', Ah think Ah got th' idea..." He groaned, looking away slightly with a scowl though I wasn't quite finished yet.

"It's so overused, it's a goddamn stereotype for anyone who thinks they're hot shit, especially Mercs. It has a super slim mag well and can be finnicky to reload quickly, it's a single-stack mag which again has less capacity than other pistols out there annnd...they don't make 'em in my size. Even if they did, I definitely wouldn't have it chambered in something like fuckin' .45 Automag. I could probably handle one in the same caliber as my revolver if they were adventurous enough to even try something like that. Don't get me wrong, I don't completely hate the damn thing but I just think they're overhyped and cookie cutter; so few of them look different from another. I mean, to be honest if someone pulls a 2012 on me, I just wanna fucking laugh and let 'em try."

"Says th' bird in ah walkin' tank..." He snorted, rolling his eyes in the direction of my Power Armor.

"Oh trust me, even without the Power Armor I'd still fuckin’ laugh at one." I chuckled, scratching an itch forming behind my right ear with a free hand. "My plate carrier can take .338s on a good day and my Stahlhelm is supposedly able to handle APs in .308. Haven't had to test that yet but either way, both those rounds are a lot stronger than a dinky-ass little .45-cal. I think I'll be fine."

"Uh-huh, sure...yew gonna bleed out afta three shots in th' thighs 'er somethin'. Yew ain't fuckin' immortal, dumbass."

"Won't matter, they'll be dead and I'll have a health potion popped and down the hatch before I even have a chance to feel woozy. We've got tough hides under all this fur and even tougher bodies under all that. Would have to be three damned precise shots to knock me outta the fight with just a .45."

"Yew just have tah be right sometimes, don't ya?"

"Sometimes, yeah I just fucking do. Holyshitmove!"

The sensation of movement hit me like a bolt of lightning long before my mind could even comprehend what the hell was going on. My necklace was yanking my body up and into the air while my ears rang with the sound of a massive muzzle blast from somewhere very close by. In the adrenaline-fueled insanity of the moment I knew the Gods had saved me yet again, the gleaming eight-inch finned-dart capped with a red tracer for a tail soaring right for where I had just been. Soon as my paws touched the ground though, time resumed at a much faster pace than I could comprehend. Before I knew it I was looking back down the way we came and was face-to-face with Firefly held captive by an invisible force, his legs pinned unnaturally behind his back. Athena had come for my head and the kind of direct divine intervention I had just experienced was not something I could rely on anytime soon. Krie had saved my life so that we could have an honorable fight and I wasn't about to let my debt go unpaid. It was gonna be down to me, a lot of luck and some classic ass-beating to claw my way out of this shitstorm.

**********

Chapter 9: Friends Old, New, and Unexpected

"ATHENA!!" I bellowed with all the menace and anger I could muster. "Show yourself like a REAL fucking mare and give me a fight worth my fuckin' time!"

I was livid. For all she was made out to be, I was at least hoping for some sort of civility or…I suppose ‘fairness’ in how she hunted us down. Maybe not all spaghetti western with a quick draw in the main square to finish off a climatic chase sequence but…something better than this. Any cheap knock-off fuck with some caps could weasel their way into getting a StealthBuck amulet and make their money that way. For Firefly to call someone a local legend, well…I was expecting something better. In a way, I got what I wanted as the cloak of invisibility was lifted and I was finally given the chance to look at her and the dangers she brought along.

The first and most obvious danger she had uncovered was the nearly inch wide gaping muzzle of the fluted barrel of one of the ultra-rare AMR-25s, cocked and loaded pointed directly at me. The heavy armor of the user behind this monster of a rifle was equally as unique and rare, the top of the line when it came to the M-CAP Ranger line of armors of which Firefly was on the bottom rungs. Thick impact plates of Celestium alloy over a Kevyarn bodysuit, a similar hermetic seal system to my Power Armor against toxic environments, multiple magnification and imaging systems in the helmet and a sturdy Dragon leather duster to complete the iconic look. With its desert print camouflage pattern, the Mrk. IV was truly a sight for sore eyes in its own way…even if it was being worn by my mortal enemy.

"Peekaboo you fuck, you!" She laughed, her voice tinny and muffled. "Sorry about this Firefly, this ain't personal I promise."

"You let him the fuck go, bitch!" I growled, keeping my sights fixed on the cheap-shot bitch who had a hold of Firefly and holding back the urge to open fire on the spot. "If this ain't personal with him, don't fuckin' involve him and take your beef with the fucker you're after."

"I would but given you somehow fucked my first plan, this is me improvising. Sorry it ain't up to your standards… Besides, I like having the ball in my court." She sighed which only added fresh air to the smoldering blaze in my veins.

"You want the ball in your fucking court?” I smirked, feeling the urge to put her in her fucking place the old fashioned way. “Well fuck you, how about this then?"

With just a thought the back of my Power Armor hissed open in sections allowing me to climb my way out in order to face her as I was. I had grown to trust Firefly and, with nothing more than his word to go on, I had to run with that concept of honor amongst these so-called Hitmares. I was gonna offer her the most fundamental and yet decisive challenge any warrior could pose to another. A test of raw martial skill with no tricks, no weapons and limited armor. It would take too long for us both to strip down completely so I felt I was being kinda lenient as it was by climbing outta Steel.

"One on one bitch! Show me some real fighting!” I bellowed at her once again, this time showing off a lot more skin than before. “He says you're a legend? Prove it then."

There was a moment of silence before she released her captive and finally replied, "Fine, we can do it your way then. Firefly, this ain't your fight and if you make it yours..."

"Yeah, yeah...Ah know." He grunted nervously while collecting himself before standing to the side and out of our way. "Ah get marked ah target fer standin' in yer way. Ah know th' rules, Crete."

After another moments’ pause, she again replied. At the same time, she lowered her rifle away from my face and began to withdraw her weapons from their holsters.

"Fine big guy. I'll fight you on your terms.” She laughed softly, slipping a long and unusual curved sword to the ground on the pile near Firefly whom she then addressed directly. “Don't touch the blade of that sword unless you want every drop of glowing blood in your body getting sucked up by a Blood Gem. Don't bitch that I didn't warn you."

He bit his lip in visible worry and made an effort to step back as far as he could from the pile, not letting us out of his sight or allowing himself to walk backwards off the cliff behind us. While he took his time looking after his own personal safety, the mare in question systematically took off her outer layers of defense and set the pieces on the pile of weapons. The external spaulders and bracers were magnetically attached to the reinforced duster which itself acted as a classy veil over the main body of armor underneath. With the literal centuries since I had last seen a set, I had forgotten how well designed even the heaviest in this line of armors were. Neck-to-hoof was encased in a system of overlapping metal impact plates, each sporting a well-worn tan desert print that was gouged and scraped to hell and back. Very little of the Kevyarn bodysuit could be seen under all the layers of defense, a testament to how often they found themselves wrestling with blade-happy Zebra elites. If there was something I could say wasn’t coming back to me, it was the number of bags, pouches and holsters that came standard with the built-in tactical rig. I couldn’t put an exact number if I tried but the number this bitch had dotting her armor was excessive…

The mare herself was…better looking than I was expecting. Grey fur, violet eyes and a green and blue mane pinned up in a bun to fit inside her helmet. Her face showed the dirt and grime from however long she had been on the road looking for me but I couldn’t say that was a bad thing. This was far from the first time I had come across a battle-hardened chick, especially in a country infamous for its female gender disparity, but few looked as at-home in her armor as she did. She looked young too, a lot younger than most of the hardened Mercs I had encountered over the years. Aging a pony wasn’t a skill I had or tried to work towards but this bitch had to be in her late 20s, maybe early 30s.

Once she had patted herself down once more to be completely sure she was unarmed, she took up a fighting stance and barked out, "Ready when you are, big guy. Show me what you got!"

Her taunting words fell on deaf ears as I was already lunging at her halfway through her sentence. Up close she was a full head or so shorter than I, which was my first mistake. Like I had been taught, I opened up with a couple of quick jabs towards her center of mass but she was already moving by the time my first fist went flying. Before my arm could even acknowledge the command to return back to my side, she struck. The world went painfully upwards as something doubly hard clocked me from below under my jaw. Out of instinct I sent out another pair of jabs in her general direction, followed by a swipe of my elbow as I used offense to buy my vision time to settle. A hard, solid defense batted away my fists and my elbow struck nothing but air but I could feel that I had bought myself a little space. This was a promising start.

‘Now this is more like it!’ I thought to myself in the privacy of my own mind. ‘She’s got more bite to her than the average bar brawl.’

With my distance regained, I could finally get a hold of my daze and brought her grey face back into view. She was crouched low, taking up a fighting stance I was unfamiliar with but knew to be wary of given her show of speed and accuracy. In response, I threw out the standard playbook, opened my fists into proper claws (as dulled as they were) and slapped together as many techniques as felt seamless with each other. Swipes, chops, kicks, jabs and slashes as fast as I could throw them at her in as wild a pattern as I could throw together on the fly. She was getting my best performance in years and it started to pay dividends the harder I pressed the attack. For every four or five blows of my own, she could only let out one or two with the rest of her time spent on the defense against my onslaught.

I felt good about my chances. At first. Punching her armored person was far from pleasant against my fists, but the number of bone-rattling impacts jarring my body was satisfying nonetheless. I had size and strength over her scrawny ass and it showed by how much I buffeted her around with each and every hit I sent her way. That being said, she was making herself a hard target to actually land one of those hits on. Her hooves, all of them, were a whirlwind of defense batting away my paws and talons like a spinning top. I knew I got in a few good solid whacks against her torso and sides but with how fast we were pushing each other to move, there was little time to parse details from our combined chaotic dance. That was…until she snuck another stinging blow directly under the tip of my beak. Not enough to chip anything, thank fuck, but it made my eyes water and set the nerves in my face on fire which was more than enough of an opening for her to take advantage of. Even through the flurry of pain and whirling sensations I knew I was off balance and not hugging my limbs close enough to my center.

What happened next was over almost in a flash as I felt her grapple onto my exposed right arm and wrench it violently upwards. In flash images through a pained veil of tears I watched in near slow motion as she sailed overhead with my arm under her complete control. The next moment the shoulder that was unfortunate to be attached to that arm erupted in mind-numbing pain; the feeling of the socket dislocating a particular type of suffering I hadn’t felt for some time. Before I knew it she had rolled across my back and over my left shoulder, dancing out of the way of a frankly pathetic attempt to swipe at her back.

"OW! Godfucking damnit you fucking cum-sucking pussy!" I hissed at her, sitting back to coddle the dangling, excruciatingly floppy limb at my side.

"I believe that should be enough to say that I win." She grinned through a wince, giving a slight, mocking bow in my direction."We've got a long ass way to go so I can turn your ass in for payment. I've got some incoming debts for some renovations I'm doing to my new house and I needed this money yesterday."

"Oh boo fucking hoo..." I mocked with a hiss of pain as I wrenched my shoulder back into the joint as carefully as I could under pressure. "Grrr...you know for that, I think Imma get mean with you this time..."

"Round two huh? Goddamnit...fine, let’s get this shit over with..." She sighed after a moments’ pause before adopting another defensive stance.

This time around I was far less confident about my chances in the ring against this little fireball of a mare. She was good. Scary good. We paced around each other in a slow circle for a moment or two, her violet eyes scanning me up and down with a stern and intense expression until all at once we were at it again. Despite the pain shooting through my shoulder with each and every movement, I couldn’t help but feel…exhilarated. With every blow we exchanged, whether or not it even fucking hit its mark, I was alive with energy and passion! Here was a proper combatant! Not another of your run-of-the-mill Raiders or even veteran Merc of the Wastes, this was a true professional working the height of her game. Every assault thrown my way was no less vicious than the last with some absolutely wild attacks making it through my defenses And if there was one thing becoming all the clearer to me through all this…it was that I was nowhere near the level I should be.

That being said, I refused to go down without a damned good fight and intended to give her my all, my shoulder be damned. I threw myself into every attack I felt comfortable with, even getting a couple talons to graze her face deep enough to draw blood and a respectable full-bodied kick directly to her torso. She kept managing to sneak in plenty of hits of her own, almost all of them going for the giant target she had made of my right side, but I could tell I was wearing her out. To her credit, she was fighting harder and longer than anyone I could bring immediately to memory and she was the more technically proficient between us. However, when she feinted and tried to go for my left arm as well, I felt it deep within me that I had found the one chance I needed to act.

“Oh no you fucking don’t!” I bellowed as I yanked on the arm she was attempting to latch onto, using her own momentum to spin and hurl her into the hardest and heaviest thing standing nearby.

The solid metallic clunk of her slamming up against my stationary Power Armor was more than a little satisfying and I allowed myself a moment to enjoy my handiwork. She didn’t even need to groan to tell me that one fuckin’ hurt; the way she stumbled up to her hooves wit her eyes blinking like a machine gun from the daze. It felt good to have done a genuine number on her after my earlier humiliation and I wanted to take in every second of hers. After a moment of breathing however, she stood up fully once again, raising her hooves ready to fight until…

"Where the fuck did you get this?" She barked at me accusingly, holding up the helmet to my PoA that her own scrawny ass must have knocked off.

"The fuck you talking about, my helmet?" I retorted with suspicion, keeping my fists cocked and loaded in case she was gonna try to use it against me in some way. "Was issued with that fucker, dumbass. What do you expect?"

"I'm talking about the decal, you feathery fuckass!" She growled back, hoisting up the dilapidated piece of steel in her magic and jabbing a hoof at the painted decal. "Who the fuck did you steal this pattern from?"

Steal? Steal?! Just who in the fuck did this bitch think she was to accuse me of stealing something I helped design! The Totenmaske meant many things to the Plague Birds and I but above all it was our shared symbol as a team, a family even. Death’s Mask was our defiance, our refusal to go quietly or bloodlessly into the arms of Tōt and the icy plains of her realm. The rest of us might have already passed into Her care but I alone still remained and by Krie I would keep our name alive even if it were in spirit. If she only knew the history she might have thought better than insult the only family I had left to me.

"Nobody you sack of shit!” I bellowed at her, the rage building up inside worth using for round three. “The fuckin' Plague Birds birthed that symbol and I'll be fucked if I let you think I fucking stole that shit from anyone!"

I was expecting her to go off on some off the walls story that was somehow related to the Totenmaske or even just to throw it at me as a distraction to start another round. Instead, she surprised me by…getting really suspicious and giving me a very critical stare.

"Say. That. Again." She commanded, the growl in her voice filled with a fire of conviction.

"It's a fuckin' Plague Birds original, numbnuts!” I challenged again, pointing a very angry talon directly at her. “Don't you fuckin’ dare accuse me of stealing something I helped create, damnit!"

She went even quieter this time, her eyes narrowing critically as the wheels and cogs behind them spun overtime trying to keep up. In a moment our epic clash was brought to a screeching halt, all over glorified 200 year old face paint! There was not a single goddamn Soul alive on this Continent that could possibly know that decal or even what a Plague Bird was. The past had been flash-fried in a Balefire flambé and with it everyone and anyone that had ever seen or interacted with my team all those decades past. All at once I was aware that I was just as confused and curious about her as she was about me in this situation. She knew a hell of a lot more than she was letting on.

"Prove it." She huffed indignantly, her amethyst eyes sharpened into pointed tips ready to strike. If she wanted to know so damn badly, I was gonna give her something only those in the know would be able to understand.

"Captain Garand K. Enfield of the Steel Ranger Corps, Serial Number E-99208-0115. Why the fuck you even care? That won't mean jack shit to you in this day and age."

She stared at me with such intensity I could almost feel them burrowing deep into my skin before she replied, "...Lieutenant Colonel Athena M. Crete, Desert Ranger Corps, Serial Number A-99226-6479."

"Desert Rangers? Bullfuckingshit." I snapped back at her without even thinking, the sheer absurdity of her words making it hard to comprehend their meaning.

Wordlessly she pointed to her breastplate where I was able to spy the faded and abused symbol of a stylized Dragon clutching a large rifle. It was hard to mistake the Corps’ insignia but at the same time, I was no stranger to the concept of finders-keepers in the post apocalypse. Anyone could impersonate anything from the past if they knew enough about it and had the right equipment. The best conmares could do a lot with very little.

“Nice, but you could’ve gotten that from a corpse in the Badlands for all I know.” I replied with a hint of smugness, the possibility of this being an elaborate ruse still on the back of my mind. “If you wanna prove your case, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“Fine! How about this then?” She challenged, reaching for her neck only to pull out a chain weighed down by small trinkets and tossing something at me.

My left arm was already out and snatching it out of the air before the thought even crossed me to catch whatever it was. Rolling it between my talons until it was comfortable to hold, I knew the shape and texture immediately and another pang of shock rocked my body. Laying in my hand were a pair of original holotags, miniscule data pads that contained everything a commanding officer, medic or otherwise needed to know about a soldier. It was a useful tech that survived amongst the ranks of the Order but theirs were notably different, simplified and more cheaply produced than the originals issued back in the day. I knew the look and feel of the real-deal from decades of thumbing my own during my decades spent underground and there was no mistaking what I had in my talons. A quick glance at the small blue screen embedded within the steel frame showed me what I expected, the list of personal identifiers listed out in tiny print beneath an image of the mare before me but wearing a dress uniform. When she pulled out her duster and showed off a pair of Lt. Colonels’ silver oak leaves on its lapels, all shadows of doubt flew out of my mind for good.

"Fuck off...there's no fucking way!" I blurted out, almost laughing at the sheer lunacy of the situation. There was just no way in hell a Nad Pad had made it out of the War alive, let alone as young looking as her. "Bullfuckingshit you fuckin' made it through all that!"

"You tell me." She replied with a shrug as she dropped her fighting stance and stood up normally. "I'm only around thanks in no small part to your buddy Peter. I might have forgotten about you, but his is a name and memory I can't forget."

Now it was my turn to act suspicious and completely bewildered. It was one thing for me to swallow down my pride and accept the impossibility of her existence but she was asking me to deepthroat something I was entirely unprepared for. To hear his name after so many goddamn years brought back too many memories to count, and not all of them were pleasant. Particularly towards the end… So how in the fuck did this chick know about Peter?

"How the hell do you know that name?"

"Well I'd have to be telling the truth now wouldn't I?" She snorted with a bit of an amused smirk. "Flat owl face, dark grey feathers, had a Kyotian dagger or...was it a shortsword? Unusual armor and a foreign-made rifle of some sort with an off-set scope mounting. Could literally shoot the wings off a parasprite with that thing."

"Yeah...that's Peter..." I breathed out, almost too shocked to say anything in response. "Thick accent and a loner?"

"Yeah! Somethin' like that heh..."

"Yew sayin' yew two not only are both from before th' Great War but also fuckin' met?!" Firefly exclaimed in disbelief as he frantically looked between the two of us with absolute confusion.

"Hey, I'm the first to be a skeptic about this sort of thing but you know way too much to be lying about this shit..." She replied before looking like an idea had struck her. "One final test then. An old classic. Klutzy?"

Klutzy… Klutzy what? Was she taking a chance to make fun of my sub-par performance during our bout or… Oh my gods, she wasn’t…

"Draconequus." I replied with a flurry of jumbled emotions in my gut. "Holy shit this can't be fucking real..."

"Th' fuck?!" Firefly whined in understandable confusion. “Can somepony please fuckin’ tell me wut in th’ fresh hell it is y’all are sayin’?!”

"Old friend or foe code." I said quickly while my mind grappled with the situation. "Don't remember the story behind it but it was effective, I remember that much."

"It was an old joke that turned out to be a great easy test of whether someone was an ally or not in the dark.” She stepped in for me. “Zeebs from the Empire could not pronounce Draconequus properly and rolled their Rs and pronounced 'quus' as 'quis'. You learned pretty quickly to pick up on a botched attempt to pronounce it and could open fire as soon as you heard the first rolling 'r'."

"Yeah heh…worked wonders back in the day… Who was your CO?" I asked, suddenly filled with a desire to learn more about her now that this can of worms had been blown wide open.

"Colonel Little Horn. You didn't have one as you...fuck...I forget why but you definitely didn't have a normal CO. Special bird privileges or some shit."

"It's because we were on special assignment from our King." I sighed, rolling my eyes at her obvious jab. "We only did what we deemed beneficial to the interests of our country and superiors which just so happened to mostly coincide with what you guys needed. In other words...we did whatever the fuck we wanted because we weren't technically part of your army. Every time we got promotions here, they were reflected back home and we were only wearing our country's ranks translated through yours. I'm still the property of the Koniggreif to this day, though I bet at this point he's written us all off as KIA. I would have by now."

"Right, you guys were special." She laughed with a hint of mocking in her tone. “All the authority with none of the accountability, a wartime officer's dream.”

"Uh...great tha' y'all be connectin' on th' spiritual level 'er whateva but are yew two fighting or naw? Ah'm fuckin' confused here!"

He brought up a good point now that my attention had been brought right back to what had started this whole…situation. The moment I saw her holotags in my hand, my whole world had shifted in an instant; a Discord’s Chest of chaos flung wide open while throwing my thoughts into the jumbled gale. Not for nothing but her first reaction to seeing me was shooting so I expected some slack for being a bit unprepared for this complete 180 in intentions. If she were going for the long long con, she was putting on a performance that could convince Lōk themselves.

"I...dunno, are we fighting?" I asked, taking the initiative to save the awkward silence. “I’m with him, I’ve no idea what’s going on anymore.”

"Um...I guess not?" She laughed with a sheepish grin. "I mean...for fuck's sake! Of all the motherfuckers to outlive the War it's you?? How the fuck did that even happen?!"

"First of all, I'm only a fourth into my lifespan so to hell with any old jokes you had planned. And as for number two, fuck you, that's how."

"Oh please, you can do better than that..." She groaned. "Fine, I'll go first then if it'll make ya feel better."

"Yeah, go right the fuck ahead because last time I saw ya you looked a lot like you do now and you sure a shit ain't no Gryphon hybrid. Care to spill the beans on this whole eternal youth shit you got goin' on?"

"Full-blooded Equestrian and proud bitch…” She huffed with a frown before continuing. “Long fucking story short? Ran with my Squad and some others to Maripony Research Base to cut off a Crimson Dragon team trying to detonate Balefire in the facility and infect a third of the country in Taint as a sort of coups-de-gras. Peter was there too, offered to join us as a sniper and provided us with an overwatch during the run up to th-”

There was that name again! Only this time the information that came along with it was particularly rank with the stink of something fishy. The Plague Bird’s first casualty in the field had been our quirky and slightly awkward owl-faced Peter, beyond a doubt the best sniper on the Front. Then came the ‘accident’ at the end of the summer dry season in the South, confidential in nature to the point of lunacy. No warning and complete with an absolutely shit answer when we had demanded an explanation as to what just happened to us. He was just up and gone. We were never the same as a team after that day, especially Ericka…and we hadn’t even been given a corpse to give a proper passing to. So what in the hell was Athena doing saying he was providing her with overwatch just before the Great War?!

"Is that right...?" I managed to grunt out through gritted teeth, my mind reeling from this unneeded assault from all sides of the past. "So Peter fuckin' faked his fuckin' death...that motherfucker..."

"Oh...? Was he...supposed to be dead before that?"

Her sincere look of confusion was convincing enough, she wasn’t pulling my tail on this one.

"Uhhh, yeah?" I snapped back, my rage from earlier sparking up a bit once more though for a wholly new reason than before. "He was supposed to be dead as of...like fucking September of that year! More than a month before the bombs! Goddamn motherfucker...we had a fuckin' traditional pyre burial for you and everything you fuckin' dick..."

Their conversation continued on in the background but I was entirely deaf to it as this latest suckerpunch left my dilapidated mental state in a state of chaotic freefall. He had the gall to fake his death to his own family and then go off and have an adventure with an entirely different team altogether. Of course we had nothing for his pyre to burn but the effigy we crafted in his name was made with all the honor and respect he deserved. We had laid to rest one of our own in full confidence. It hurt each and every single one of us to the core but we had all accepted it. Ericka, our team medic, took his loss the hardest. A battlefield crush was a double-edged sword and that day she felt its ferocious bite turned on herself. Of course, he was too damned shy and awkward to even be aware to her flirting over the years but tha-

“Now...ya gonna be nice an' tell her yer side 'o th' story?" Firefly chided all of a sudden in my ear, his hoof jabbing hard into my side to get my attention. "This mare is ah force 'o nature so if she done stop attackin' ya it's fer ah goddamned good reason."

"Ugh, fine!" I sighed, rolling my eyes while trying to ignore the ‘force of nature' comment for the sake of my own wounded pride. "The Plague Birds and I, minus Peter..., were assigned security detail for all the high ranking officers and other VIPs along with two Companies of soldiers including some of you NadPads. After Army Group South took Kyopsis we were sent back to the Southern Front till the end of the War. Apparently one or two of those asshats we were protecting got a heads-up about the incoming M.A.D situation so they decided to fuck off. Only had time to grab a few of the whole security team before we headed right into Death Valley towards some secret Stable they had built in the Badlands specifically for them. Problem was...at that point it was pretty far behind enemy lines with the bombs coming at any time. Fought till there was only a dozen of us left with me the last standing member of my Squad...and that's when the sirens went off up and down the Valley. Everyone just...knew they were the real deal and with a place of refuge from horrible death now opened up, Zeebs and ponies alike piled inside until we had to shut the door just as the Great War started. Rest is ancient history."

"And...you just lived in there for two-hundred years?" She asked with disbelief, looking me over as if looking for something odd or unusual. "Doing what exactly?"

"Nothing interesting if that's what you're asking.” I chuckled weakly. “I got sick and tired of that fucking place after the one-fifty mark and let myself out one day. They had started opening the front door a few years before then to conduct recon and I had heard from one of the scouts some rumors that the SR survived the War too. My life was next to pointless after that door first shut so knowing the surface was safe to return to, I decided it was time to get off my ass and get back to doing what made me fucking happy once upon a time. Unfortunately the long ass trip I took to regroup with them was all for nothing in the end. They were a bunch of fuckin' psychopaths who are too far up their own asses to have Souls anymore and...eventually it just got too much for me and I left. Went West to get out of their territory even though I know their beef with the NER could get my ass in some sorta trouble."

She listened carefully and nodded as I spoke, her expression showing interest but with the cogs behind the scenes spinning wildly. It was a pleasant change from her actively trying to dislocate every bone in my body and I wasn’t getting the feeling she were about to strike again.

"Heh...the price on your head indicates you killed more than a few Rangers. Just how many then?" She asked with a smirk, her hate for the SR just oozing from her words.

"Eh...something like seventeen? Eighteen?" I replied with a satisfied laugh, feelings of pride tickling through my feathers at the memories. "Buncha zealot weirdos...felt good lemme tell ya! Plenty of those bastards deserve more than a bullet or two to the skull, lemme tell ya."

"Indeed. And now you're out West getting away from them and all their bullshit. That part makes enough sense. What still doesn't make sense is why here of all places? I don't mean West of the Gap, I mean here. Right fucking here in the Ember fuckin' Mountains. I know you're headed to some sort of bunker up this road somewhere but what I wanna know is why you guys know about this place? I've never heard of this place. Spent almost my entire career in the Equestrian Armed Forces in this region and not once did I ever hear about any military installation built in these godsforsaken canyons."

"Well.. Don't we got a story to tell ya!" I grinned, looking right at Firefly who grinned back knowingly.

******

We had started moving again after more time spent standing around chatting. While it was nice to catch up with someone from the old days, I didn’t let myself get too distracted from the real reason we were here to begin with. With the SR hurtling inevitably towards us somewhere to the North and closing fast, we had no other choice but to keep making our way deeper into the Ember Mountains. How much farther up the road and deeper into the canyons Outpost Zeta laid was an enigma until we made the trip in full. However…the journey was easier to ignore with such an interesting traveling companion to talk your ear off.

Athena was…surprisingly charming and energetic now that she wasn’t on the hunt for the Bounty on my head. She laughed often, spoke with her hooves even as she walked and had a mind as sharp as a dagger. I had thought her familiar when she had first taken off her helmet but the fight that immediately followed that did a thorough job of scrubbing that from my mind. With our fight concluded (and ignoring the outcome), I had the time to realize I had met her before. Not for any great length of time but we had spoken face to face at least once or twice a long, long time ago. What we talked about was something only the past itself would remember but it was much harder for a face to escape my memory. Either way, I was finding it difficult to find reasons to chuck her little ass over the side of the cliff beside us.

“...and boom! He shoots, her entire spaulder goes flying off and she’s shrieking like a banshee!” I recounted fondly, watching with a quiet sense of pride as she lit up at my tale.

“Huh…yeah, I saw some of the leftovers from your fight while I was snooping around Glittering Caves. Spent casings, old blood and even the spaulder you blew off her shoulder! Miracle she didn’t lose the whole leg too.”

“Well tah be fair, mah line ‘o sight had ah shit loada rain fuckin’ wit’ it. Ah was shootin tah kill if ya want mah honesty…” Firefly groaned regretfully, pulling his bush hat lower over his brightly glowing face. “Never got th’ chance tah make up fer it ‘cause Garand here goes ‘n grapples onto th’ bitch like ah goddamned wrangler ‘n snaps her fuckin’ horn right off!”

“Yeahhh…” I chuckled sheepishly, feeling…embarrassed by the way she looked up at me like I had genuinely impressed her. “In my defense she had really pissed me the fuck off by aiming her gun up at Firefly instead of me. Well, that and…you know, the fact she was hunting my ass down to begin with, heh.”

“Heh, yeah I got to see a bit of your handiwork when she and a Shadow Broker just appeared in front of me the other day offering me a deal.” She replied, giving me a smiling nod of approval. “Her head was all bandaged up like something outta the Kyopsis crypts but the stump was definitely still oozing. I remember seeing it staining through all the gauze…”

“Oh really?” I asked, simply dying to hear what she was like after her humiliating defeat. “Do tell!”

“Well ain’t somebody nosy…” She giggled before continuing all the same. “Trust me, you left a hell of a mark on her. Never, ever in my life have I ever seen anyone with the balls to talk over a Shadow Broker. Let alone multiple times! He decked her good after the second or third time…fuckin’ felt good to watch that shit in real time. She couldn’t stop talking about you and what you did to her so I’d say you left the impression you were going for with her.”

“Mmmff…” I sighed happily in pleasant satisfaction over her words. “No higher honor than to be obsessed over by an inferior rival! Anythin’ else?”

“I dunno, it all kinda happened so fast. It’s still kinda hard to believe it was real and actually happened to be honest.”

“Ah well…that was more than I was expecting to get outta that so I’ll count myself lucky. Didn’t exactly think I would hear from her again after all that so it’s good to hear just how fucked up I left her. She already seemed like a psycho but there’s no way she manages to keep it all together as time goes on. Not the first horn I’ve snapped off one of you small fry, I’ve seen what can happen.”

“Oh yeah, that was already happening during that whole conversation.” She confirmed with a furious nod. “The stub started sparking wildly there for a second and she seemed to have a massive migraine the whole time. No telling how long it’ll be until she’s naked and hissing at the sky like a Feral but I wouldn’t give her long. There wasn’t a lot of brain left to rot in there to begin with…”

“Yew’d think so but Ah’ve seen some fight against it fer years ‘n years. Ah strong enough mind can stave off more than yew’d think. Met ah poor fucker years back who lost his horn in ah bar fight. Th’ rage ‘n anger from tha’ loss kept his ass in one piece fer over three years till he finally cornered th’ bastard in Rock Town. ‘Course, this is when he couldn’t hold it in anymore ‘n exploded on ‘em. Like literally exploded. Whole town, ‘er wha’ was left of it, blown off th’ face o’ the map.”

“No idea where Rock Town is so I can’t exactly say I give a shit about it.” I responded. “Either way, we’re far away from that whore and good fuckin’ riddance I say. If she turns into a Psyker wandering the wastes like a rabid dog then good for fuckin’ her! Let her whole pink ass rot into a pile of shit in the coldest pits of Hel. I kicked her ass fair and square and she’s gotta live knowin’ that!”

“Indeed! It was nice to hear the full story finally.” She laughed softly with another smile. “I had most of the pieces already but some of the specifics really needed this sorta explanation to puzzle it all together. You guys tell an amusing story, even if I would personally still be wary of Kay-Q.”

“Mah pleasure!” Firefly chuckled, tipping his hat in her direction. “Story time is mah favorite part o’ bein’ on th’ road heh, heh. Gives meh ah chance tah tell some good tales.”

"So...that explains the talk of SR activity near the Gap..." She mumbled aloud to herself. “They're all looking for this place too and the only path in they can take is on this side of the Embers. Lovely."

"Yep." I replied nonchalantly. "Radio transmission was pretty short but it looks like Elder Grigori was getting at least a Platoon-sized force together. Great as the NER might be, I doubt they'd be able to counter that strong a force with the Elder and his Sentinels at the head."

"As somepony tha' has some authority on tha' subject, lemme speak fer th' Republic 'n say naw." Firefly replied to across from me to my right on the wide dirt road. "Th' Gap is prolly at it's weakest at th' moment. Things been so quiet tha' they apparently started tah redeploy troops, 'specially th' Rangers, tah th' North. Ain't sure what they're up tah but Ah'd bet ya ah solid hundred caps it's prolly somethin' tah do wit' proddin' into th' Duchy 'o Crystal. Command was obsessed wit' scout reports from th' North 'n there were plenty 'o debate about wha' might've survived th' War."

"Perfect time to redeploy then." She sighed with an audible groan underneath. "The Order works on their own frequency so I'm surprised you were able to tap into it. Even my equipment struggles to tune into that high of a frequency range."

"Mine used to be able to when I was closer to the radio relay stations under their control out East." I said in reply. "Only reason we happened on this shit was we were already at a relay station called Black Steel Hill where an NER Bounty target that Firefly was after had holed up in. The station was in SR hooves a few years ago and the radio equipment had been locked tight against those dumbasses who moved in so I took advantage of the opportunity and tapped into the radio frequencies. Boom, soon as the radio tower is raised we hear all that shit about them headed this way and long story short, here we are trying to cut them off and somehow prevent them from finding and looting this place."

"Right, that's our job." She laughed while patting the butt of the massive rifle on her back. "Guess you're lucky I happened to show up when I did. 25x102mm is more than enough to punch a hole in Tin Head armor."

"Yeah...lucky..." I grunted with a nervous chuckle, my mind immediately coming back to her ballistic greeting from earlier. "Still not sure if we are postponing our fight for later or...?"

"Yeah...for now, let's just consider it on hold until this is resolved.” She sighed quietly, looking away from either of us for a moment. “Everything you've said so far seems to be credible so I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. Plus, Firefly's word holds weight with me and if he says you are a good guy and trustworthy well...like I said. Benefit of the doubt. Best I can offer you right now until I've had more time to think shit through."

"Heh well thanks there, Athena..." Firefly said bashfully with his hoof reaching back up for his hat. "Nice tah see Ah'm visible from th' top."

"Please..." She chuckled tiredly, looking back at him with a kind expression. "Hitmares have a vote on who's earned a place in our number and you'd better believe we keep an eye on the Gungho-Guns. Your record speaks for itself and your performance last year at Freeside Hot-Shots was commendable as well."

There was a glaring flaw in the information she was using to form up her inevitable final judgment regarding me. Whether or not she was used to being paid in full or jipped on a regular basis wasn’t exactly known to me but I had to assume she got her money when she had earned it. Far as she knew, the SR was gonna make good on their Bounty like anyone else which is what I knew was giving her pause. Once she knew otherwise however…

"Sorry to interrupt or whatever, but you do know the SR aren't gonna pay up, right?"

"What do you mean?" She asked in surprise, cocking an eyebrow up at me and looking perplexed. "You don't just simply make a Contract through the Syndicate. If you put up a price and create a job, caps will change hooves. Otherwise, they have ways of getting their due that I doubt even the Order is prepared against. Any attempts to resist will be considered an act of war and they have many Combat Sorcerers trained exclusively in Dark Magic. If they start coming out of the shadows to fight...it will be a nightmare for anyone involved. I've only seen them demonstrate their resolve once and the entire caravan company that refused to pay for its Merc guards hired through the organization was completely liquidated, including the people running it. So...unless the SR wants a war unlike any its ever fucking seen, they'll pay up."

"You don't get them like I do, mare..." I growled warningly, rushing ahead in order to stop her in her tracks and listen to me. "I can't prove anything you're saying about these Syndicate people but I feel like believing you since things out here are way too slick and oiled and I'll frankly start believing anything at this point about 'em. But, I'm telling ya with brutal fucking honesty that these guys think they're the hottest shit on the planet. Even if they did somehow know about this whole spooky scary magic shit, that doesn't mean a goddamn thing to them. They're so far up their fucked assholes they wouldn't even consider it a threat. They care a hell of a lot more for that Mrk. IV and PipBuck of yours than your entire fuckin' life and soon as you try to turn me in you'll be dead. Don't care how good your shit is, the T-60s have fuckin' 25mm autocannons which'll put you down nice and easy."

"Ah mean...fucker's gotta point, Crete." Firefly said thankfully coming to my aide on this. "Ah don' see th' SR holdin' up their end 'o th' bargain."

"Ugh! Just...let me fuckin' think about it, alright?" She snapped back at both of us with what could’ve been tears forming in her eyes. "I've got a lot riding on this Contract..."

"What price is worth killing someone you fuckin' know, huh?" I huffed indignantly, playing the nostalgia card for all it was fucking worth. "Where the fuck else are you gonna get to swap war stories with someone you know worked the Southern Front right there with you?"

"I get it!" She whined loudly with an exasperated gasp for air. "It's more than just the fucking money, damnit! I fucked up royally with Green alright? Sent me to get some cash back from Slavers in Appleloosa and kill his rival Jingle Jangle...I ended up liberating the captives, paying them the cash meant for Green and kinda, sorta adopted a daughter from one of the slaves."

"Yew...wha' Crete?" Firefly breathed in reply. I too was absolutely silent as she continued to speak.

"I fucked over Green with a sudden change of heart and adopted a filly. Big fucking whoop but now, as a result of all that, Green has a Contract out on my head for 150k. I've got two teenagers to look after and I don't wanna spend that time looking over my shoulder for someone like Cook Cook or Black Velvet to hurt either of them. Both of them are dead now but they're just the first of many to follow."

"Yer th' one who killed Velvet? Goddamn...explains why th' psycho lost. Heard about tha' fight when we was in Th' Pile."

I brushed him off as that fight was something for another time. All that mattered was that we successfully convince her to rethink her plans on dragging my ass in the wrong direction. We had come too far and done too much to change our plans now.

"So what's your part in this then?” I asked pointedly. “How does taking me in clear your name of a price on your head?"

"Because Killer Queen came to me personally with a fucking Broker and offered me a deal. Your sorry ass alive for the 300k and absolution from Green's Contract. Said I was too invaluable to the organization and that was the only reason they were offering it. Perhaps they too are expecting the Order to reneg on its half of the Contract. Hell if I know..."

"You try and turn me in to them and you won't be alive to enjoy that freedom." I warned, eying her intensely so she damn well felt the certainty behind my words.

"Ugh...so you say..."

After that she just stopped talking altogether and so I decided to leave her alone with her thoughts while we continued meandering through the rocky canyons. She had told me only a tiny fraction of what she had been up to since we had last met so it was hard to say what her goals or motivations exactly were. Well…not all of them. Of her own volition she had let me in on the fact she actually had some decent cause to come after me. A Bounty of her own, kids to look after and a home for them all to live in were better motivators than the greed I had originally been expecting to trail after the 300k price tag on my hide. Were it anyone else…I might still be thinking that but I couldn’t deny I felt strangely at ease around her.

All the same, she only had one logical choice ahead of her and that of course was to let me go on my merry way while she went off looking for another way to finance her housing costs. The thought of tossing her off the cliff or otherwise making her disappear was still on the back of my mind as a backup plan in the event she was deaf to reason and blind to a unique opportunity. What that opportunity was…? I truly didn’t even know myself but there was something unusual stirring inside me. Odd pangs in the chest and heart that made walking a straight line somewhat difficult for a time as we continued to walk in silence. I had no possible idea what to make of it all but I couldn’t say that I felt afraid because of it. When Firefly chose to speed up a little, possibly to give us some space, I allowed myself to slow a little so as to not accidentally tread on the backs of his hooves and legs.

"Do we even know what we're looking for?" She asked after who knew how much time had passed us by.

"Dunno, a big fat door that puts a roadblock on the path ahead? How should I know?" I retorted sarcastically since she knew as well as we did that our intel was incomplete. "All I did was find the big hollow hill its hidden in, I'd assume this road has to lead somewhere there's an entrance; path like this is perfect for half-tracks and shit so the door'll be obvious I'd think."

"Guess that makes sense...still...feels like we've been walking for a longggg fucking time now." She groaned, taking a deep breath followed by a bored sigh.

From up ahead, Firefly shouted over his shoulder, "Ah shut it, Ah'm havin' ah blast hearin' ya two go on 'n on so Ah think it's been ah great fuckin' ti-"

Clang! In the blink of an eye he was face-first flat up against absolutely nothing. The road still stretched on ahead of us as bland and uninteresting as the last few miles with jack shit to indicate anything was even here aside from the three of us. There was literally nothing else it could've been but exactly what we were looking for.

‘Jackpot!’ I thought to myself with a wicked grin. We had a lot of work to do.

Chapter 10: Nest of Concrete, Avian of Steel

There was no mistaking the noise we heard and yet the empty air in front of us wasn’t betraying any secrets. And yet, what in the fuck else could it possibly be other than what we were looking for?

"Did the air just clang?" I gasped without meaning to, moving forward cautiously while at the same time Firefly reeled back, cursing up a storm in my name.

"Ah dunno, Garand!” He growled in pain while holding his head. “Why don't ya try headbuttin' th' fucker 'n find out!"

Once I had scooted up to where his face had introduced us to this discovery, I slowly reached an arm out followed closely by the mare. Within several inches my talons spread flat across the invisible something in front of us with a light scraping sound of metal on metal. Athena followed this up with a quick jab of her armored hoof and we all started slightly as another loud clang rang out from the nothingness. This level of concealment was unusual for Equestrian shit but then again, it wasn’t an average bunker we were looking for.

"Gotta be our door..." She mumbled to my left, glancing my way at the same time I did hers. "Any ideas? Never come across something like this before...M.O.W kinda hides their shit in the open so this is a new one to me."

"Hold on...I'm thinkin'..." I replied, wracking my brain for a possible aide to our situation before the thought of better vision prompted me to reach for my helmet dangling off the side of my armor.

The hermetic seal hissed shut around my neck as I directed my thoughts through the PipBuck menu, speaking aloud to myself as I cycled through the vision filters available to me. "No...no...no...no...aha! Put yours on and put on AS filters, you'll see it clear as day."

With the world now displayed in a vivid palate of colors under the Arcane Signature filter, the construct we had come all this way to find was finally in view. Colossal fifteen or twenty foot steel doors commanded the area in front of us, their shape clear as day although giving off a misty blue glow that stood apart from the landscape around us. A quick peek around the edge closest to me suggested the concrete housing around it was squared off; more than likely just the foyer for lack of a better term.

"Oh, so now yew two can see it an' not th' guy who smacked his fuckin' nose into it? Common..." Firefly groaned with a grumble of annoyance, grabbing for his own helmet and fumbling it onto his head.

"Oh...right..." The mare replied off to my left. "Forgot the Mrk. Is are pretty barebones. Just precision optics and low-lights right?"

"Yup, and ah simpler version of tha' fancy friend-er-foe compass thang. Nothin' like wha' yew two are workin' wit' but it works great fer sniper work against mah usual targets."

"Not missing much...just a big steel lookin' door.” She sighed with a hint of boredom before speaking in my direction. “I think I see the terminal for it over here to the left!"

"Yeah, I see it.” I replied, wasting no time and memorizing where the terminal was on the wall. “I've got the bigger, better PipBuck so lemme handle it. Shouldn't be too hard."

A moment later and my armor had popped open for me to slip out of allowing me to move in on where my mental snapshot dictated. When my bare talons finally made contact with the stiff plastic keys of a terminal I breathed a silent sigh of relief that I hadn’t wasted even a second on foolishly pawing around for it in front of them. With my hands oriented around the general area of the keyboard, I held my PipBuck up to it and waited for the faint beep that would hopefully recognize me as a friendly. Another sigh of relief later and I was faced with a visible screen and keyboard rather than the angry retort of automated defenses.

"Annnd...there!" I declared proudly after entering a few simple commands; the invisible gates to my right sliding apart like a seam breaking in the fabric of reality. In truth, I had to blink more than once to connect the dots between this optical illusion and what I had told the computer to do.

"Sweet fuck tha' there's ah trip..." Firefly groaned, shaking his head and stuffing his hooves in his eyes.

As I expected, what lay behind the doors was nothing more than a large, empty concrete box. The ceiling and walls were dotted with slowly spinning fans while the center of the room was commanded by a large, rectangular freight elevator. In the far right corner lay another, smaller elevator most likely meant for those not hauling enormous loads of freight. Or driving it for that matter. The size of the main lift itself was more than large and intimidating enough to handle the weight of a few Greifenländer vehicles loaded down with crew, troops and ammunition. All that being said however, it was empty, quiet and completely devoid of any light that wasn’t being filtered in from the world outside. Although I knew I was going to have to hop right back out of it, I still climbed back into my armor all the same. Better the hassle than leaving it behind, especially right at the literal front door of the place we were trying to keep safely hidden.

"Well...ah empty house be ah good house in mah book." Firefly said with satisfaction, looking around the room with a weapon casually drawn. "Quiet can be ah damned good thang sometimes, 'specially in cases like this here."

"Can't say I disagree..."She responded with a distracted glance around of her own. "What you think? Head down to the top floor and work our way through the sublevels past that or hit the bottom and go up?"

"That's assuming the thing still works of course…" I sighed back in reply, popping out of my armor again so I could make some moves on the next terminal. "No clue about anything to do with this base, so for all we know it's even more of a relic than most places."

The lift itself was seamless with the concrete floor around it and its metal edge was brightly painted with cautionary yellow while various warnings and other markings littered the ground around us. In the far right corner of the lift was a solitary steel pillar on which was attached another terminal, this one even closer to the ground than the last forcing me to awkwardly crouch in an attempt to access the controls. The joystick designed for a hoof was uncomfortable to manipulate in my talons but even the slightest bump to it brought the screen to life. It wasn’t much but at least we knew the screen had power and the controls were responsive for it. At least we had a place to start.

"Bingo! Just a second...lemme see if I can find the lights..." I mumbled aloud, my voice echoing off the walls around us as I got myself oriented on the keyboard.

"This place is weirdly intact for a military relic.” The mare muttered from somewhere behind me as she poked around with her headlamp on. “Especially for one so close to the Badlands..."

I put off responding to her immediately in favor of tackling the terminal and the information it was presenting me to chew through. It was far from my first bunker cracking but this one was pretty different from those that came before. This place was well hidden for pony crap, came with an official enough name and was home to some kind of mythical ‘Prototype’ the Elder was willing to overstep his bounds to achieve. A Platoon of his finest and some of his few precious Falke? Even he wasn’t brazen enough to waste so much resources if he didn’t think the reward was on the same scale as the T-60s. Something worth potentially losing his Eldership over by leaving his Chapter far behind and punching through the Gap breaking a tense decade of peace.

‘!!!WARNING!!! EMERGENCY POWER ONLY! UNEXPECTED LOSS OF MAIN POWER HAS OCCURRED. Code Black Protocol Is In Effect. Would you like to activate Auxiliary Power?’

‘Hm…’ I thought with a hint of grim amusement. ‘Yeah, whatever ya wanna call the Great War buddy…’

With a simple click of the word ‘Yes’ the large warning screen vanished, replaced instead by a very simplistic readout that listed out some basic functions. The joystick was at once both sticky and imprecise, more than likely a result of my lack of a hoof that could comfortably fit into the custom depression designed for a pony. While I fought against the controls flicking between and around all the menu options except the one I wanted, I let loose with a muttered stream of curses. I hated pony tech. And I wanted the Gods of the homeland to fuckin’ hear that fact. While the two of them likely thought I was hard at work hacking the mainframe like some sort of expert, here I was fighting against shitty design and ergonomics. If I had a Groschen for every time the cursor drifted past its mark, I would easily have earned enough to cast a shiny new shortsword for myself. After what felt like a decade, the highlighted cursor hovered over Lighting and Power and I finally had the chance to flick on the light switch as it were.

"Well damn, you're right!” I replied with a nod of approval once my eyes had readjusted to the new lighting, the rather pristine condition of the infrastructure now far easier to see. “Place looks almost brand spanking new!"

The concrete walls were structurally sound and only featured minor weathering and cracking while the metalwork of the lift and heavy equipment bore only little patches of budding rust. Having spent several months hopping from one bunker to the next, cracking open what I could for both the Order and my own use, I had never seen such a pristine example in the wild like this. If the base or facility hadn’t been stripped down to the concrete already, they were some variation of old and crappy; crumbling concrete, rusty exposed rebar and overall just an extreme feeling of age and decay throughout. Lights and power were always a gamble to find operational let alone usable for things like MagLock doors, terminals and environmental controls. More often than not I was forced to stay within steel just to make use of its air filtration system against black mold that found its way into many a derelict place. Of course, this was only the entranceway and it was anyone's guess as to the state of the thing further in. However…if this area closest to the outside elements was looking this good…

"Gimme a few guys..." I grunted again as I hunched back down to take another swing at the terminal. "Probably need to manually unlock the elevators since the hello message said something about an unexpected power loss. Had to switch to auxiliary power which should hold more than enough juice for us to look around for awhile."

"Oh? Wonder what happened to the power then. Place seems pretty well preserved so I'd be surprised if it was something to do with bad wiring or something related to lack of maintenance." She replied to the room at large since the echoes allowed any to listen in to even a whisper.

I grinned as I glanced over some of the information in the Lights and Power menu. "Who knows? All that matters is there's more than enough juice to keep the lights on for a couple years in here as far as I can tell. With the main CFRs offline, the backup generators were put into emergency-power mode so only the most important shit got power and even that was as minimal as possible. Plenty leftover for normal operations although, there might be some tertiary systems and shit that probably won't be touchable until we can get main power back online. Not like that's a big loss, tertiaries are one of those 'can live without' sorta things."

"Ya mean, 'if' we get it back online." Firefly mumbled, sounding distracted with something else unrelated. "Don' jump th' gun on anythin' over fifty years old...NER know tha' one better than anypony."

"Eh, I prefer to think optimistically. Besides, I'm getting the feeling this place has a lot to hide. It's unusually large and well preserved. That just doesn't happen by accident out here, not in this day and age." She replied, their voices growing more distant as I fiddled with the joystick to bring back the main menu.

The terminal was far from informative and seemed to only have rudimentary systems’ access. I knew why and yet it still impacted my ability to glean anything interesting from the limited information available. In the end though, a freight elevator didn’t really need to do or know much more than how to go up and down to a selected destination. Thankfully we had access to the lights so all we needed next was a path forward. As before, the finicky controls only added unnecessary time to something that would normally take me a minute or two at most. All the same…it gave me some time now that I could rely on a bit of autopilot to see me through the terminal commands. I trusted my talons and brain to do what I needed to while my mind took a moment to sit and think over everything that had been going on.

What was I ultimately to make of Athena? It came as a bit of a surprise to me just how intensely that question had burned in the back of my mind over the last couple hours. Ever since our fight had come to such a sudden stop, I was forced to accept the reality that I wasn’t the only old world relic wandering around the Wasteland. Not only that…but I actually knew the tough lil’ bitch. Once upon a time at least. The memories were more hazy than I wanted to admit to her face but there was no denying she was ringing all sorts of mental bells for me. It wasn’t like we had even interacted that much back then anyway, but all the same I couldn’t say that I didn’t vaguely remember her. Ponies came in so many looks and colors that it became hard to distinguish them apart after a while. Her colors were a tad more unique than most, grey with a lime green mane and tail highlighted with curling trails of baby blue and capped off with vibrantly violet eyes. Definitely not a bad looker by any means, even as far as ponies went for the most part. Those pastel dumbasses came in every shade and flavor of the color wheel making it hard to make particular names and faces stand out. As to how I felt about her specifically back in the day? I truly couldn’t remember anymore, even if I sat down and tried. Even back then I had to admit to myself that as stupid as they were, the Equines didn't tend to promote idiots to their top Corps. NadPads or not, a Desert Ranger Veteran clad in the Mrk. IV slinging around an AMR was not just some random soldier.

That all being said, my impressions of her now were…all over the fucking place to say the least. She had taken a legitimate shot at me, regardless of the fact that she had missed, but she had also kicked my ass good and hard in fair combat. As she had clearly explained, it wasn’t out of any personal vendetta (obvious since she hadn’t gone entirely through with it) but because she was mixed up in some crazy ass web of Syndicate madness. She had been after me because Killer Queen had essentially blackmailed her into doing it, for lack of a better term. We had duked it out for over ten minutes and, in all that time, not once did I notice nor experience a dirty tactic in her arsenal. No dirt thrown in the eyes, no use of her horn and magic, not even a cheap shot at the balls. Hell, even her aiming specifically for the shoulder she had managed to yank the fuck around wasn’t even all that dishonorable in the end. I was still taken aback at just how easy she had made dislocating a joint seem, with all the grace and speed of a goddamned Crimson Dragon. The canyon wall had been a hard boundary for our fight just as the gorge was on the opposite side; something I had only barely acknowledged as important to keep in mind. And yet, here she went and used it as a fancy ass way of popping my arm from its socket! Much as it fuckin’ hurt, she had used an honest (if annoying as hell) tactic to try and incapacitate me for what she needed. As for all the ‘cheap’ shots to that shoulder after I had reset it…well, she had every right to take advantage of an opening she had made herself. Had the fight gone how I wanted it to and she was the one with a broken whatever, I totally would have aimed extra hard for that sore spot too for maximum effect.

And then of course there was her ferocity… Every attack was thrown at me with the same level of intensity as the first and the bitch had never let up once. And it wasn’t like I hadn’t gotten in a few hits of my own on her, but if our fight had been overseen by a referee…I would have most certainly ended up the loser. Rarely had I seen an Equestrian so at home using all four of their limbs in combat like she had and yet I simply had to wonder if her training had come from a Zeeb, if even in part. Or at the very least she was heavily influenced by their more…flamboyant style of fighting. It had been absolutely thrilling to finally face a genuinely tough opponent again after…hell, who knew how long. In the end though, she was a fine warrior. Perhaps not up to par with a proud and strong Gryphonness from the Greifenländer, but then again…neither was I anymore. Certainly if there were any truths revealed to me by our fight, it was the fact that I was lagging behind and I needed to be better. I had to be better. It wasn’t because she was a pony and especially not because she was female but rather, I had grown soft. I had allowed myself to grow soft, helped along in no small part because the bulk of the Order’s enemies had already been taken care of.

“Ay, Garand! Yew gettin' close 'er wha'?"

The sound of my name from all the chatter they were bantering back and forth startled me off the rails of my train of thought. Instead of responding directly however, I allowed my actions to speak for me as a loud klaxon alarm sounded off overhead and orange hazard lights began spinning in the corners. After a moment of lights and noise, the lift shuddered under us as the squeal of metal on metal rang out around us and we began to descend into the earth. The elevator we were standing on was only the beginning of this place as it only went down one floor, acting as the entrance hall of sorts to what was referred to as General Maintenance Garage A. Past that…the best I was able to parse from the limited systems’ access I had was there was a second freight elevator somewhere that went down nine whole goddamn floors underground. With the front gate directed to shut and re-cloak, all we had left ahead of us was to crack this golden nut wide open. We had a couple hours to wander and I wanted to make the most of it.

"Ah thought we was gonna use th' otha elevator!" Firefly called out loudly while I hopped back into my Power Armor. "Where we even goin' anyhow?"

"Well since you two were jabbering on about whatever, I decided to get this party started and send us down to Sublevel-1.” I replied with a shrug and a nod downwards. “This elevator only goes down one floor so we'll have to find the one that reaches all the way down to Sublevel-9."

"Nine?!" Athena exclaimed in surprise, seemingly as impressed as I was at the size of this place. "I was expecting like...three! Or like maybe five at an absolute most but...nine fucking floors?? What the hell is this place hiding?"

In a moment the way ahead was clear and rising into view showing just another large, empty concrete room similar to the one we had just left barring some new details. First and foremost of course was the presence of another large sliding steel security gate directly ahead of us that, while narrower than the lift, would still allow a full-sized Falke or bigger cleanly through. Apart from the boring grey of unpainted concrete, there was an abundance of scaffolding erected along the far walls and flanking the security gate with boxes of spooled wiring, light fixtures and spare tools strewn around everywhere. Cables and work lights hung around everywhere while stationary construction lamps stood over the various works offering clean white light where the facility lighting had yet to be installed. Yet again there wasn’t a ton to parse from so little information to work with but the presence of tools and materials for construction so close to the surface was at least notable. Whether it was a sign of further unfinished-ness as we went deeper or just a sign of finishing touches…it was too early to tell. The only thing for sure was…

"Ah...great. Another fucking computer..." I sighed, popping the back of my Power Armor open once again to climb back out. "Thank fuck I have that fucker General Olive's access codes stored...otherwise we'd have a hell of a longer time playing IT with all this shit. I have a feeling it isn't our last locked door in this place..."

"General...Olive?" She asked hesitantly with a strong hint of venom behind the way she said his name. "How...how in the fuck did you get his codes?"

"Easy. I took them once General Prickly Pear died of old age in the Stable.” I replied with a smirk in her direction. “He took charge of the Front after Olive was assassinated and thus inherited his old command codes. Took the codes off of every officer who died in there...I've got over twenty to choose from ranging from Captain all the way up to Four-Stars."

"In other words, you have an easy-in into any military property you want?" She huffed with a hint of a frown that could’ve been taken as jealousy, something I was happy to hear from her.

Given the tone of her voice, I couldn’t help but laugh back proudly, "Damn fucking straight! Helped keep me topped off on .30 Carbine rounds while I was still nearby Manehatten. Didn't have much time to find a better gun after my damn launcher fell apart and the ammo was in decent supply up there so I just snagged it and rolled with it.”

I gave her a brief moment to comment while I took a breath and when she didn’t, I continued, “Worked well enough against anyone not in genuine armor and I had my revolver and shotgun on standby so I couldn't complain. Problem was, could only find the ammo in old bunkers like this and most have already been long ago plundered for every damn thing they were worth over the years. Damn scavvers..."

"Might be hard to get into Ministry of War places though.” She hummed in reply, her voice thoughtful and curious. “I know that some things were strictly off limits to all but their own elite employees. Ministry anything really would be a tough nut to crack, even on a good day."

"Yeah..." I grunted, grinning as the door began to open while more alarms and lights went off from around the bulky doorframe. "But it's more than enough for this place! Common', let's get to poking around!"

I barely took a step back towards my armor before our ears were assaulted with the hollow clatter of dozens of skeletons all flopping and scattering to the floor at once. I had been expecting corpses at any moment given the size and implied importance of the facility but I had to admit, what I witnessed was definitely on the more unusual side. My armor hissed shut around me the moment I settled back into place and I spared myself a half moment to look over the remains of the poor saps that had met their demise underground. Nearly all of them wore some kind of uniform and a fair few of those I could easily spot hailed from either the Ministry of War or the Ministry of Arcane Science. Engineers, Airborne Corps, General Army personnel…even a few tan uniforms belonging to the mare’s precious Desert Ranger Corps were amongst the corpses. Whatever killed them had long since passed it seemed as there wasn’t so much as a twitch from my Charm necklace and so, I wasn’t all too worried.

"Goddamn, look at all of 'em! Looks like half the base is in here!" I chuckled, moving forward once more.

Back in steel, I took it upon myself to start clearing us a path and since there was no love lost on these no-name bones, I started crushing and smashing my way through. I was sure the two of them would be probably a bit pissed at how I went about it all, but I didn’t bring myself to care. We had a pristine goldmine all to ourselves and we weren’t gonna waste time on the bones of people none of us had any connection to. And even if we did, what did it matter? We had a mission to protect or otherwise keep the Prototype out of the SR’s hooves and these remains were only getting in our way. The cavernous hall itself was flanked on either side down its length by a series of what could only be guessed were repair or maintenance bays. Though identifying markings on the walls were sparse, there were still plenty of signs from the long recesses with built-in tables, the presence of foundations for vehicle lifts and partially completed AutoMechanist machines installed in the ceilings above each bay. Bodies were strewn about everywhere you looked, piled on top of the other in a flowing wave of dusky white bone and stuffed into every nook and cranny around. The culprit behind their demise was no more clear than before but it had absolutely gutted this place of its staff roster.

"Yo, fatass! You seeing all these M.O.A.S coats everywhere?"

I heard the beep in my ear a moment before she started throwing insults over the airwaves, but it was still uncool to use an emergency military frequency just to talk shit.

"Hey, if you wanna play ball pit with a bunch of skulls then by all means call me that again, mare." I replied with a sigh, giving a huddled mass of three skeletons all wrapped around each other a hearty kick which shattered it like glass.

"Yeah, yeah.” She grunted back with a dismissive wave of her hoof. “Whatever, look, do you see all the lab coats around here? I've never seen so many in one place...ever. Never saw a ton of those eggheads before the War to begin with."

"Yeah? Well their skulls crunch just the same as everyone else here. Funny ain't it?” A point I accentuated by caving in the skull, horn and all, of some long-dead Unicorn. “Look, I dunno what they're all doing here so don't bother askin'. We know as much as each other so don't ask dumb questions."

"Wasn't asking a dumb question..." She sighed long and hard in my ears, sounding completely fed-up with my shit, much to my chagrin. "All I'm saying is this place is getting more interesting the deeper we go."

"Agreed. Let's save the idea and hypothesis making till we have something better to go on. Then we might have a place to start building a working theory, alright? Alright."

When she didn’t respond for another ten seconds, the emergency line automatically muted itself leaving me once again alone with my thoughts as we made our way through the bones. Much as I didn’t need it pointed out to me, I was glad she had noticed the unusual presence of so many Arcane Science lackeys. It was a small detail admittedly but it was a decent example of how cued-in she was to her surroundings, even if they were well over two-hundred years old. Another point of interest was the fact there were a total of fifty of these repair bays lining the hall, twenty-five per side, and the remaining ten or so were actually complete. Large numbers confirming my own internal headcount were painted on the spaces between bays while black and yellow caution and red instructional markings dotted the floors. The last two even had fully installed AutoMechanists dangling from the ceiling with its dozen Mr. Helper-esque robotic arms dangling down; each tool for cutting, welding, riveting, ratcheting, lifting, moving…all the basic necessities required for working on any Gryphon produced vehicle. The ocean of death thinned the closer to the far end of the hall we got which was naturally blocked shut by yet another locked steel gate. I was starting to get really tired of having to constantly pop back in and out of my armor.

"I know the drill..." I groaned with a bit of frustration, parking next to the waiting terminal and getting to work on the short-as-fuck terminal station. "Gods fuck how short you ponies are...I miss the Greifenländer sometimes..."

"Yeah, well...shrink or something? What do you want me to do about it?" She retorted with an amused snort and a shrug.

"Sit and spin, princess..." I grunted back her direction, the door command functions almost wrote memory now as I punched the button and they started to peel themselves open.

"You wish..." Came her snarky reply as she and Firefly brushed past only for her to stop and exclaim, "Oh...my...GODS!!"

"Th' fuck ya...now wha' in tarnation is tha'?" Firefly’s response echoed alongside hers while I hurried to cram my ass back into my armor and see whatever the hell it was they were gawking over.

"Fuck you two, I wanted to...go...first..."

I…wasn’t entirely sure what it was I was looking at. The room itself was far larger and roomier than the entranceway coming in from the service road and was capped off by an equally large and circular ceiling. Sitting in the middle of this room however was a canvas tarp covered…something. Well over a hundred-feet in length, nearly the same lengthwise (although concentrated more or less in the center), and standing a little over twelve or so feet tall with smooth, rounded corners and no noticeable corners. Like a computer frantically scanning its database, my mind scrambled through memories in an effort to possibly find a name for this thing. Problem was…it was too goddamned big compared to anything the Gryphons had produced during the Pre-War years and I would eat my own tail if it were something Equestrian-made. They were decent, even starting their own mechanized R&D division to produce some competing vehicles for the War effort but…this seemed above their league. Hell, it felt even a bit out of my own people’s league and we were amongst the first to start making this sorta shit. The mare on the other hoof…she seemed to be on the verge of exploding in delight and she rushed forward, grappling onto the tarps with her magic and flinging them off wildly.

"Whoa, hold up mare.” I called out to her with a hint of hesitation given my unfamiliarity with the object. “We don't even know what the fuck it is yet!"

"But I do!!!" She exclaimed back, continuing to scramble madly, almost frantically, at the canvas tarps covering her prize.

After a moment or two of us silently standing there unsure what to do, Firefly gave a hearty shrug and added his horn to the effort. Eventually I gave into my own curiosity and chipped in too, moving to the large rounded portion in front of us to start unwrapping. Before long I was gazing back at my own face, my reflection tinted in pale gold as I realized I was looking at the windshield of…something. As more and more canvas fell away, it occurred to me that we were looking at some sort of cockpit as more gold-tinted windows and an armored hull came into view. It was starting to come together in my mind; a long, relatively cylindrical shape following down the multiple windows to a smooth, rounded nose at the end. The desert tri-tone camo pattern painted onto the portions of thick armored plating I could easily spot was more than enough to tell me she was military through and through. Only question was…what the hell was it exactly?

"Wha' in th' hell is tha'?" Firefly gaped, looking at his reflection like I had with a look of wonder. "Some sorta attack buggy 'er somethin'? Fancy as hell, Ah'll give it tha'."

"Yeah, I got nothin' on this one." I admitted with little reluctance given just how impressed I was so far with the thing. "Ain't anything I've ever seen before...looks way too advanced. Which...means this might just be that 'Prototype' they mentioned in the message. Since you seem to be the resident expert, mind telling us just what the hell this thing is?"

"It's called a Vertibird! These babies were just...goddamnit where do I even start with these fucking legends?" She exclaimed with such giddiness I could have mistaken her for an excitable teen. All the same though, her giddiness did little to help elaborate on the crux of my actual question. A name was a start but…

"How about the name and what it means?" I sighed in reply, once again hopping back out of my armor for a better look.

"Heh...well, guess it doesn't mean a whole lot on its own…” She laughed sheepishly before continuing, “But, these were officially called Utility Flying Machines and were made for hauling troops and cargo long distances incredibly quickly. No need for wing power like anything before, just absurd engineering using big old fan things they called...rudders? Fuck, no. Rotors!"

"Troops 'n cargo?" Firefly asked. "Wit' ah machine? Tha's a new one..."

I shook my head and sighed, "Yeah, still not ringing a bell. When did these start being deployed?"

"Uh...only like...six or seven months before the Great War? Why, you never got to work with one of these at all?"

"Hell no!" I retorted immediately, more resentment coming out in my voice than I expected. "Got pulled back South in early March of that year since the King was concerned about the pyrrhic stalemate going on down there. He wanted to help shore up the Southern Front since you ponies weren't. Your capital is not even four-hundred miles North of the Badlands…if the defense failed there, there wouldn't be much keeping the Empire from knocking Equestria outta the War. And, not for nothing, you guys did a damn good job at skirting away a good chunk of the enemy force from attacking the Greifenländer directly. Didn't see anything like this at all the whole damn time I was stuck down there and believe me, I would remember something like this. Where the hell have you seen one then? If you were infected in Maripony that would put you rather close to the Southern Front so how did you interact with one enough to know as much as you do about 'em?"

She gave a sigh of her own and raised her hooves sheepishly saying, "Look, what lead to me ending up in Maripony is complicated and too long a story to try and sum up in a few sentences so I can get back to geeking the fuck out. They were first deployed in the Zulu Campaign around like March or so and I just so happened to end up on Olive's shitlist around May. Since you had the liberty of going wherever your King sent you and not some nutbag, I was redeployed there last second as a way to break up my Squad and separate us. Me, our shotgunner and our Griffin heavy were all sent over to the Empire and the rest, including my fiancé, remained in the South being a Designated Marksmare and machine-gunner."

"So...you worked with these things I take it?" I replied, cocking an eyebrow and looking between her and the golden windscreen beside her.

"Yup. Much as Olive seemed to loathe me you just can't ignore credentials, especially when you were now under the command of another, more competent General. Soon as we landed in Stormgŭll just outside the Empire, General Steel Hide assigned Penny, Buck and I along with our Engineer whizz Dark Blaze to the still brand-new Mechanized Airborne Division. These things would have room for ten soldiers in full kit plus two pilots and could get you in and out of a warzone faster than any Pegasus can fly. Well...except the Minister of Awesome of course. They also came with as much armor as a Greifenländer war machine but with the added ability to fly like a dancer. I'm telling you, these things were fucking amazing to work with...even learned to fly one around late August or so. Well...sorta."

"Tha' so?" Firefly commented while tugging off yet another tarp and looking at his reflection. "How'd ya do tha'? From wha' Ah've heard about ya, yew were ah heavy sniper wit' yer bigass rifle 'n no wings."

"You've every right to be a bit skeptical seeing as your species has wings but I'll have to assume you've never interacted with a Greifenländer vehicle before." She responded with a hesitant smile even though I wasn’t in need of any convincing. "These machines are designed to be as universal as possible no matter the operator and make all ponies, and birds, equal. It's a design philosophy replicated in these things and then some. I fell in love with these things from the first second I saw them on the tarmac..."

"I'll be the first to admit I have a fear of heights but there's a weird sense of safety being in one of these things and I went out of my way to volunteer for any sortie with them that I could. Admittedly...it was a coping mechanism but it was a good one that worked. I liked to hang out with Blaze and learn about them bit by bit while he was working on them back at base and had his help as a Flight Engineer on many operations. What really did it was an...unfortunate error that led to me having to make an emergency exfil when our primary pilots were killed during a mission. After that, they designated me as a backup pilot and tossed in some formal training in case I ever needed to pull a stunt like that again in a pinch. They primarily had me working with my rifle still, given that was still my specialty, but towards the end of my time there I had at least fifty-hours spent in the pilot's chair. Yeah, I know. A paltry amount and nothing to brag about but it still makes me the expert here out of the three of us."

While I was more or less listening to her, I wasn’t all too interested in the fine print behind her experience at the moment. I had been away from the homeland for quite some time during my time with the Plague Birds which lent itself well to keeping me out of the loop. With how my kind almost manically had to continually improve on existing designs, we also had just as many talented talons hard at work on the next best thing. The art of mechanization alone was a burgeoning field that had been advancing at a blinding speed back in the day but this…this wasn’t one of ours. At least…not that I was ever made aware of.

"Uh-huh… Well...neat shit but...why didn't we ever see this one?” I replied. “This place is not far from the Badlands and we sure as hell could have used something like this. If you were using them in...what, May? That leaves five entire months until the bombs dropped and we didn't even hear a peep about this thing."

"Now it's my turn to say don't ask dumb questions." She retorted with a smirk. "I don't have any more of an idea than you do, as I was too concerned about keeping me and my Squad alive in the most inhospitable battlefront of the War. Thank you very much. Let's explore some more before we start making up explanations, alright?"

And with that she turned back around and set back to work tearing the…‘Vertibird’ free from its mothballed state. Firefly was already working hard with her by the time I sighed and decided to lend a hand in peeling it clean. Soon enough our efforts paid off as the entire front end was exposed showing off the collection of twelve squared or triangular windows which formed the windshield and offered a little over 180-degrees of view to those inside. The armored fuselage was somewhat in the shape of a squat oval which continued for quite a ways, tapering at the opposite end with two portions jutting out in the rough shape of an squashed down H. Just below the windshield, the rounded nose of the thing was mounted with a large cannon of some sorts and what looked to be a highly advanced camera array. However, Firefly and the mare alike both seemed oblivious to them in light of so much more canvas to be removed and the possibility of even more tasty finds as we went along. Even my own curious excitement was enough to allow me to ignore any finer details on the nose array until the rest was on full display.

More windows came to light as we worked our way down the craft. Lining the veritable neck of the beast were a set of matching long, rectangular windows followed by a rather peculiar outcropping of sorts in the hull. Coming to a somewhat triangular point and surrounded with windows above, before and below were a pair of…pods, for lack of a better term. They only jutted out a few feet from the rest of the body but seemed big enough for a single, pony-sized occupant to sit and have a clear view on the port and starboard sides. That and…these two came with their own guns and camera mounts like the front did, albeit a bit smaller. Hugging the underside of the chassis pointing outwards were a pair of small ball-mounts absolutely lined with camera lenses while directly underneath each lay a beefy tri-barreled minigun; each barrel a bore size that could only belong to a .50-cal. There was so much left to see and even still the wheels were spinning in my head at just how much of an asset we had denied the Order.

By default the most obvious place to address next were the enormous rounded portions jutting out perpendicular to the main body of the craft at the mid-ship mark. With time, the first side revealed a massive multi-prop fan of sorts built into a cylindrical armored housing. As the armored ring met near the fuselage it was attached to what appeared to be a pivoting joint to a wing-like pylon which connected it to the main body. When I Firefly’s magic pulled away the tarps from off of where they connected it clicked in my head immediately how the craft was to be operated. Without having to even see the other side I could assume it was a carbon copy of what I was already looking at and that left me free to speculate. With two enormous fans capable of independently altering their own pitch and angle, the only explanation was that it flew using them. Quite nimbly at that if the mental image of their capabilities held any water. Of course, with the grand reveal of one amazing oddity came yet another directly beneath it once the wrappings came free in due course as we made our way down.

Jutting from the fuselage only a couple of feet below the avionics wing assembly was another, smaller wing of sorts. Fastened to the underside running parallel to the fuselage were a set of three tubes; two long and narrow that were a bit smaller than the diameter of my fist and a third large…pod of sorts. While the pair of black metal tubes were capped off with some plastic or rubber piece preventing me from taking a peek inside, the pod thing was much more forthcoming. Poking out of a pair of nineteen roughly three-inch wide tubes inside the pod were a collection of what could only be rocket warheads. It was hard to mistake the customary bright yellow paint capped with a red fuse that had become synonymous with any High-Explosive munition during the War and even long after it. Following that revelation over to their lengthy neighbors, I could only assume they too were some sort of tube-launched missile of some sort. It was debatable as to the actual efficacy of the cluster of small rockets against anything other than infantry or soft targets out in the open but…the bigger tubes had me thinking. Given the enemy this was surely set to square up against, it would stand to reason they would give something with this kind of height advantage a means to take down Zebrican heavy armor; namely, the Rhynox and Oliphant combat robots, Feral Dragons and, Gods forbid, imported Moskowponi armored technology from before their laughable demise.

My mind wandered as we worked and while more canvas was torn away to show off the goods, my thoughts continued to mull over the implications of our find. Only glimpses of a main hatch, further windows on the main cabin and the slender tail assembly passed by my notice as I thought. First of all was the obvious: she was absolutely massive. It no longer mattered that I wasn’t in on this little secret back in the day when thrown against the backdrop of our current day and predicament. In the blink of an eye we had opened the door on the single greatest piece of military tech I had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, let alone getting hands-on experience with it. Large caliber cannons and rocket-propelled munitions littered its hull and even from the outside it looked like it could more than hold a Fireteam or two. If anything…I was just too stunned by it all to even speak a word of these thoughts aloud as I might have otherwise done. Elder Grigori was going to travel well over a thousand miles, past the Gap of Canterlot and its NER patrols, and all the way to somewhere in the bumfuck middle of nowhere desert…just to have his prize taken by the guy he wanted dead above all else. Gods…sometimes there was just no way of getting out of a maniacally happy shiver down the spine thinking about just how pissed he was going to be.

Within a few more minutes of hard work and some skillful telekinesis on their part, we had successfully extracted the gigantic, beautiful machine. As familiar with Gryphon tech as I’d like to think I was, this…Vertibird was defying any and all calls of familiarity. It made logical sense to think that Gryphon Schmiedemeister were behind its construction and design but there was a certain…mechanical-ness about Gryphon tech that was missing here. Well, less missing as it was more…unfamiliar, more ‘modern’ for lack of a better term. Everything was sleek with rounded corners and modest exterior welding and bolts while Gryphons tended to favor a more industrial look. While it would be understandable if this were a modern-day craft as the Gods only knew what my people had come up with over the last 200 years…this wasn’t brand new. New in the sense of never having ever been touched perhaps but it had still been two centuries since it had been left behind and forgotten. Our work done, we communally gathered back at the nose of the craft to admire our handiwork and continue to gawk at the visual spectacle we had discovered.

"Holyyyy Celestia tha' there's ah biiig ass gun!" Firefly whistled, nodding me over to inspect the nose cannon from earlier. "Ah ain't neva seen one this damned huge!"

"Goddamn… I haven't seen one of you in a hot fuckin' minute..." I breathed while enjoying a happy shiver of nostalgia.

"Yeah, being a bird I'd expect ya to have seen one of these before." She laughed, earning a tired sigh out of me for her trouble. "Only saw these on those medium tank things and the big Sky Freighters that used to long-haul goods and materiel between the Continents for us."

"Same here..." I replied, holding up a clenched fist for comparison to the cluster of three, inch-wide barrels. "Bit too big, heavy and expensive for something like Anti-Air work so they made plans to adopt the M197-A, the 20mm Vulpes version. Never saw the new Falke IV ultra-mediums or the Adler I heavies since they never reached the South in time for me to enjoy them but I had heard about them in a dispatch from High Command. Saw plenty of burnt-out IVs around Manehatten and the Eastern Front though...but any that could be salvaged had already been taken by the High Elder and the Salt Lick City SR Chapter since...you know, security and enforcement. Gotta protect the heartland and head leader and all that jazz."

After I finished speaking we all fell into silence once again, held locked in place by the rapture only a mighty machine of war can inspire. I could clearly see myself in the golden reflection cast back by the windscreen and I couldn’t hide the glee on my face if I tried. Eventually our trance was broken by the mare scurrying off towards the right-facing cabin door which had the crest of the Equestrian Armed Forces painted on under the large window. At once both a familiar and a half-forgotten symbol of a gold and silver kite shield, set with a Yin-Yang of the Sun and Moon intersecting at a cross of black, which divided up the shield into four corners; two smaller upper sections and two larger lower ones. Occupying the two larger portions were a clockwork hoofprint and sword, the Pre-War sigil of the Steel Rangers Corps while flanking it to its right, a broad spear enwreathed on either side by a pair of Pegusi wings. Sitting above them, crammed into the small upper corners of the shield, was a stylized Dragon wielding an Anti-Machine Rifle and a simple horseshoe set with a Private’s chevron in the center. The Desert Ranger Corps and the General Army Corps… They were just as fundamental and necessary to the EAF as the Steel Rangers and Airborne and yet even here they got the shit end of the stick. It was no secret to anyone that the Steel and Desert Rangers never got along during the whole duration of the War but it was amusing to be reminded of it in such a visual manner.

As the mare reached out to unlatch the door, her PipBuck gave off an unusual chirping sound followed by the cabin door sliding open of its own accord. At the same time, the floor immediately beneath the door hinged downwards revealing a wide, hidden stepladder that extended out and to the floor. Further beyond I could spy the main cabin which featured a wall of seats and overhead stowage bins lining the length of the hull from the door back towards the tail on our left. To our right the rather spacious cabin was abruptly interrupted by a wall sporting some more inward facing seating and an open bulkhead door set in a pathway in the center. Spacious as it was though, even a quick glance was enough to show I would have a tough time stuffing myself inside while she and Firefly could freely explore it to their hearts’ content. This observation came with another question attached though: if I, an admittedly short Gryphon, was gonna have a hard time getting inside then it only furthered my suspicions that this wasn’t one of ours. We would undoubtedly gladly take credit for it had we known about this little beauty but…that evidently never was the case.

"Damn, that's nifty!" She squealed with unbridled glee as the stepladder extended while the sound sent unexpectedly vibrant shivers down my spine.

Taking a chance to casually walk around the awkwardness, I glanced around her as she climbed aboard and replied, "Jeeeeeez look at all that space! Looks a little short in there so I think Imma stay out here where I can stand up straight. Besides...couldn't fit up that corridor if I wanted to, just a bit too skinny to fit through. This thing was built with ponies and Griffins in mind, not Gryphons. Huh...don't remember anyone saying anything about them working on something like this."

"You sure?” She asked, sounding a little surprised. “Lotta neat shit on these, especially something that's like 50% bigger than the ones I'm familiar with. This model is completely new so there's a fuckload to dive into on this thing!"

"Yeah, I'm pretty damn sure I don't wanna get a neck cramp from seeing the most boring part of this thing's insides.” I responded with a bit of a laugh, “Besides, somebody's gotta start searching the rest of the base. Still plenty of places to check out and shit to break into before we set up the ambush and ain't no time like the present!"

She shrugged looking a little disappointed, but only a little. "Eh, your loss! You coming, Firefly?"

"Eh heh..." He laughed nervously. "Ah...don' think so, Crete. 'Fraid Ah'll break somethin' 'er bump into some buttons 'er another. 'Sides....ain't ah fan of enclosed places if ya get wha' Ah mean."

"So I'm to investigate this thing by my lonesome? Damn...ah well! You boys enjoy your door-to-door bullshit and lemme know if you find anything interesting. I'll do the same with this big beauty and see what sorta secrets she holds. This one is extra special and is just begging to be poked and prodded for answers!"

I rolled my eyes and nodded towards the passenger elevator in the corner after getting Firefly’s attention. "You're a fuckin' nerd, ya know that? Check in every fifteen-minutes, see ya mare."

Chapter 11: A Bunker Without Equal

As soon as the elevator doors slid shut and our destination set for Sublevel-1, I felt myself sighing in deep relief. At last I could return to the company of someone less…complicatedly annoying and just…feminine. She was pushing so many of my buttons all over the place for your average mare and, I had to admit, it wasn’t something I was exactly used to putting up with. Everyone annoyed me to one level or another at the end of the day but…goddamnit did she somehow make it feel more personal than anyone in recent memory. It wasn’t even like she was being flirtatious or charming, quite the opposite even. No, there was something else going on inside that head of hers that was messing with me. Some kinda of trick or...maybe some kind of pony magic I wasn't familiar with. Unfortunately, my enjoyment in our respite from Athena was something that Firefly immediately caught onto.

“Yew doin’ good?” He asked with a light chuckle. “Lookin’ ah bit flustered there, Garand.”

“Yeah, just…yeah.” I sighed in response, not even attempting to try and put up a façade. “She’s just…ugh.”

“Oh? Wha’s this here? Ah know she tried tah put ah hole through ya n’ everythin’ but…Ah bet on mah hat tha’ she ain’t gunna try tah kill yew again anytime soon.”

“Well…sure, but…” I mumbled, almost to myself. “No…this isn’t about that. She just…irks me is all. I feel like…I dunno, just weird about it all.”

“Weird? Weird how, big fella? If yer talkin’ about how she looks tha’ damned fine n’ dandy after two-hunnit somethin’ years? Absolutely pardner, Ah could talk ah bit about tha’ there topic, but Ah dunno if tha’s wha’ yer after. Unless ya are?”

“I’ve…no fucking clue…” I mumbled in response, the flash of her gorgeous violet eyes like amethysts flashing in my mind, followed by the lovely curve of her ass in that armor.

“Hoooooo boy!” He chuckled with a soft whistle of approval to himself. “Hey, ain’t gonna judge yew fer thinkin’ she’s ah looker. Damned fine mare as Ah ever seen, kicked more ass n’ seen more shit than Ah ever will. Ah think she's perfect fer ya!”

To my handy rescue came the soft ding of the elevator door as it opened promptly upon our first stop; a spacious semicircular atrium of sorts with a Maglocked set of double doors at the opposite side from us, and a broad stairway leading down somewhere out of sight. In a nice, if gaudy, change from the barebones military industrial look of upstairs, the space seemed mostly completed and came furnished with an assortment of items. Overhead hung a large crystal chandelier which provided an abundance of light to the polished marble floor below which sported a massive mosaic of the full crest of the Equestrian Armed Forces, including its four main branches. Interspaced every six-feet or so along the curved portion of the wall were a number of recessed alcoves with comfortable looking booth tables formed from one long, continuous bench which encircled most of the length of the atrium. At the same time, a dead, meter-wide band of what I assumed to be something akin to a news ticker spanned the upper rim of the wall in one solid loop around the room. Tucked away in armored housings were over a dozen security cameras of which, only half or so displayed a visible red light indicating they were active. Large, round panels of steel in the ceiling were undoubtedly the undersides of some heavy-duty auto-turrets designed to shred any and all unwelcome guests. To our credit though, we had entered using one of the highest credentials a pony in the Army could get, and the head of the entire Southern Front at that. We had barely seen anything of the complex and already, it had beaten out at least half of the bunkers I had previously cracked open in size and complexity alone. With the atrium at roughly the same dimensions of a small indoor gymnasium, a good few personnel were no doubt expected to be running and maintaining the base at any one time.

“Place looks comfy enough. Wha’ yew reckon this place tah be?” He asked once we had stepped out and gotten a bit more of a look around.

“Well, an atrium for one. Lots of space for sitting and even some table space around here, so I guess it’s also like a…waiting room or…dining room of some kind?” I replied, lifting a leg as I glanced under me at the ancient mosaic. “Not a lot to see here so I don’t got much to spitball back at you. What do you think, stairs first or should we try those Maglocks at the other end there?”

“Hmm…tough one. How ‘bout them doors? Always somethin’ juicy tah be found behind big, fancy locked doors!”

“Doors it is then! Come on, let’s go crack these suckers open.”

We crossed the last of the atrium without incident and in approaching the doors, a hidden panel in the wall to either side of the frame slid away to reveal independent terminals with all the appropriate docking ports. Given I had needed to do so four times already, I was more than ready to tackle the next of what was sure to be many more; the cord to my PipBuck clicking satisfyingly into place as I pulled up the credentials of General Olive. The same error messages I had seen on the previous terminals were to be found here as well, although once I had plugged in the data cable the doors began to hiss open of their own accord without any other inputs on my part. Beyond the Maglocks lay a narrow steel hallway with a grate-like floor lit along the corners in soft blue, while spinning emergency lights sat dormant on the walls astride a pair of sealed hatches midway down. At the other end of the ten-or-so foot corridor lay another large Maglock door painted with cautionary red stripes and the words, ‘OPERATIONS: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY’. Some ways ahead of it, the ceiling presented the undersides of a further two large auto-turrets resting idly on standby forming a chokepoint of defense.

“Hmm…worth a quick look I guess, but…I’m not sure how much there’ll be to see aside from a lotta computers, data servers and chairs. If it’s anything like what I’ve come across before in other bunkers, it’s just gonna be a boring place to look around unless you’re there to scrap for electronics. That and…this place is on emergency power so I doubt there’s going to be much that’s operational in there at the moment.”

“Won’t know ‘till we try it, no? Let’s see wha’s behind our first door already.”

The second door was the exact same as the first, with a pair of terminals on either side of the white enameled door and a pair of security cameras which gazed down on us with seeming disinterest as no alarms went off. Merely having General Olive’s credentials pulled up on my PipBuck seemed entirely sufficient enough to override the lockdown on individual doors and this one was no different. Within a moment of plugging myself into the access port, our second barrier slid open vertically bringing into view a spacious and very bizarre hexagonal room with a high domed roof. I wasn’t sure which part drew my eye first in the rather dimly lit space: the large hi-tech conference table in the center of the room or the dozens of glass boxes built out of the walls. Surprisingly, the enormous, oval-shaped table commanded the bulk of the ground floor which was otherwise mostly devoid of the usual lines of terminal stations and barely comfy seating; the only computer stations around being tucked into the corners of the room. Instead, once I had moved closer, I discovered that each of the odd glass boxes dotting the walls were in fact individual office-like cubicles; eight per available wall with thirty-two in total. Rather than placing all their work stations down below like other bunkers I had seen, each operator was housed in their own glass box which housed a control station that nearly encircled the small chair sat within. Access to these stations was seemingly provided via four passageways found along the base of each wall; a wide spiral stairway at the far end leading up and two hatches on either side granting entry to the two cubicles located on the ground floor. Across from where we entered lay yet another Maglocked door, this one labeled as, ‘EXECUTIVE OFFICES: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT’. Above it was a broad television screen that spanned the entire length of the wall, though was disappointingly dark and silent like most other machines we could see. One could only guess the kind of information it could display or really what secretes any of the many computers around me contained somewhere in their circuits.

“Well…isn’t this a new one?” I commented to myself while he and I continued our little stroll. “Never seen an ops center that looked like this before, that’s for damned sure.”

“Yew think they actually made ponies work in these here things?” He remarked after peering into one of the cubicles for himself. “Ain’t no leg-room in there but th’ damned space tah get out th’ door!”

“I’m sure they would’ve but there’s still plenty of signs this place wasn’t entirely ready for full-time use all over. Lotta leg-room out here though! Looks like they wanted to keep the ground floor clear of distractions I guess, just…never seen a design like this before.”

“Yeah…is damned strange…common, looks like yew was right abou’ there bein’ nuthin’ tah look at worth our time in here.”

“Oh? Ready to go that soon?” I asked in a bit of surprise as I myself felt a little intrigued at what lay inside the executive offices. “But you’re the one who wanted to see where that corridor led!”

“Yeah, Ah just wanted tah see fer mahself wha’ was behind it. Now we know, we can move along tah th’ next place. Ain’t nuthin’ here we need tah be worryin’ over right now, not when we got a buncha Steel Rangers on their way here. Let’s check out th’ downstairs we saw back in tha’ there atrium o’ yers.”

“Just because I pointed out the obvious doesn’t make shit mine…” I sighed in response, following along behind him as we made our way back through the narrow passageway to the aforementioned atrium.

His only response was a hearty chuckle and soon we were busy with making the uncomfortably awkward descent down the pony-sized stairway in the center of the room. Well, uncomfortable for me at least, Firefly made his way down with absolute ease but made sure to share another chuckle at my expense as I set my talons and paws down tentatively. The task was made easier by leaving my Power Armor behind near the door to operations but still, I was miserable for those long twenty seconds. At the bottom of the hell stairs was yet another long, somewhat narrow hallway leading away some hundred-feet till it formed a T-junction at the far end. Lining either side were plain, unadorned doorways save for a single number stenciled to the right of each door, ascending from one all the way to the number twenty. As none of the doors were seemingly locked, a quick peek inside revealed a room full of quadruple-stacked bunks, the spaces between them filled with personal lockers and a large, simple table with chairs in the center of the room. Each bed was tidily made and every locker stood open and empty, waiting for something to occupy it, though not a single bunk looked like they had ever been slept in or really even claimed at all. After peeking into several of these rooms only to see a carbon-copy of the first, we both decided to assume that all twenty of these barracks were identical to one another and we could move on without checking any more.

“Ah counted forty bunks per. Forty times twenty…”

“Eight-hundred, give or take if any of the ones we didn’t check have any kind of variation in the number of bunks.” I finished for him. “A whole goddamn Battalion of soldiers…if that’s who these were meant for. For all we know, this is the only lodging in this place and everyone involved was supposed to suck it up and rack up together like in basic.”

“Fuckin’ wild…” He whistled in response, numbers nineteen and twenty passing by us as we reached the T at the end of the hall. “Uhh…how yew wanna handle this?”

“Eh, fuck it. You go one way and I’ll take the other. Meet back up here if either path goes on for too long and we risk getting lost or you run into something you can’t open.”

He nodded and, after a moment of silent decision-making, took the path leading left which bent away at a sharp right angle keeping everything beyond out of sight. Left with the only remaining path, I took to the right side and was immediately met with a very standard set of double doors with a hoof-latch and everything. Pulling them open, I immediately felt a faint shiver across my back as my eyes adjusted to the sudden absence of light in the massive room beyond; the only light provided by what the doorway allowed inside. It only took a moment for the feeling and the bulk of the darkness to wear off and my relief only doubled upon seeing rows and rows of low tables sporting benches. The more I looked, the more signs of a cafeteria I noticed around the room, from the buffet-style bar with empty steam tables behind glass awnings at the far end to the stacks of plastic trays sitting atop rolling carts in the corners. Once I located a large set of light switches on the wall and restored full visibility to the room, all doubts were put to rest as I was indeed standing inside a mostly-finished canteen. Most fixtures were only the lights themselves with no outer paneling to cover up the electrical works normally hidden with the rest of the ceiling. Alongside that, the walls were painted a basic beige color but were otherwise mostly devoid of any other sort of color or decoration. That is, aside from one long stripe of red in the floor with arrows indicating the flow of traffic during chow time from the rows of tables and along the length of the serving area. On another glance I noticed a half-painted stencil of the words ‘DIRTY DIS-’ above a recessed trough to the left of the steam tables, which seemed to feed used dishware to the back of the kitchens using a small conveyor belt. All that besides, there was yet to be a single corpse outside of the maintenance tunnel one floor up which was…interesting.

A quick glance behind the steam tables only showed an empty, industrial-sized kitchen with the whole shebang as far as culinary utensils and equipment was concerned. Ovens, deep fryers, stove tops, prep stations and over a dozen other things I didn't know the name for occupied the space behind the counter. It was unclear just how many soldiers were supposed to inhabit the base, but the level of infrastructure so far was indicating a thousand personnel at the very least. Though the kitchen was interesting enough on its own, I wasn’t particularly hungry so I felt no need to prod further into it than I already had. When I emerged, Firefly was already standing there waiting for me with a bored look on his face that kinda told the whole story. I had found a boring old cafeteria so I could only guess he found something equally or even more boring than I had. Personally, my money was on a bathroom or something along those lines given the proximity of twenty barracks fit to house an entire Battalion of hungry, unwashed grunts outta the General Army.

“Hope yer searchin’ found somethin’ more interestin’ than wha’ Ah found…” He grumbled with audible disappointment.

“Debatable, you first then.” I replied with a smirk of amusement.

“Humph…fuckin’ showers, lockers, n’ stalls fer days.” Came the bitter reply along with a roll of his milky blue eyes. “Ah mean, be th’ best damned place tah take ah shit ‘er a shower in th' whole damned Wasteland, but…still, was hopin’ fer an armory ‘er somethin’.”

“Called it!” I laughed with a slight pump of my fist in victory. “Thought you might have found somethin' just as boring as me, based off of how annoyed you looked standing there.”

“Oh, puttin’ bets on mah mental sanity now, eh? So wha’, it’s ah buncha boring ol’ toilets n' shit, it’s good tah know where we need tah go if we need tah…ya know, go! So wha’, yer sittin’ fancy on some amazing find? Or are ya just slow at seein’ if ah place ain’t worth th’ time o’ lookin’?”

“Nah, found the canteen though! Pretty big bitch though…I dunno, I get the feeling that there’s gotta be more than just that to feed everyone here. Even with a Battalion on-site, this is a big, expensive asset that could house more. I would if I were in charge at least…”

“Who said yew couldn’t be? Get it all up n’ runnin’ and who’s gonna stop ya from stampin’ yer name all over it?”

“Oh common, this is already way too much space for me by my lonesome.” I laughed in response, flashing him a warm smile. “We can split it fifty-fifty. I get half, you get half and everybody is fuckin’ dandy at the end of the day!”

“Yeahhh, wha’ ‘bout Athena though?” He asked with a critical tone and a cocked eyebrow to boot. “Don’t she get somethin’ fer not killin’ ya n’ sorta helpin’ wit’ th’ exploration shit?”

“Oh…right. Her…” I grunted with a sigh, reaching for my PipBuck to access the radio channel that was still linking us together and putting it on speaker. "Check in, what's it lookin' like in there, mare?"

"Clear of hostiles as far as I can tell. Why?" Came her cheeky reply within a moment or two, the tone of which only grated on my feathers more.

"Ha, ha...like there would even be hostiles inside something mothballed like that. Anything useful, smartass?"

"Well...only just got done checking out the main cabin which took some time to comb through. Anyways...I've found some Type-3 field packs fully loaded with gear, some hella good first-aid supplies and a really awesome built-in gun rack thing that recesses into the tail assembly. Sadly there's nothing on it but it's got a good five-feet of rifle space and room for ammo canisters. Also, I call dibs."

Firefly and I had just been discussing the whole concept of ownership and how it applied between us and the base… Of course he had to go and jinx our hefty finder’s claim by invoking her name like that and summoning it to her mind via osmosis or some other psy-op I was unaware of.

"Dibs? Dibs on what?” I asked in confused disbelief before it clicked. “The Vertibird?"

"Yep!” She replied with a grin that was audible over the radio. “I know the most about it, I found it first and I am the most qualified to get this thing running in this group. You said it yourself, you never got much experience with Greifenländer vehicles and specialized in Power Armor engineering."

"Well...yeah, but...you can't just claim 'dibs' on something Firefly and I technically knew about first, mare. This ain't a Gryphon machine, you said it yourself."

"No, it's not. It's 100% Hexagon with Griffin input probably. Besides, you can't even fit in the fucking cockpit fatass. How the fuck are you gonna get anywhere, let alone fly this thing? Gonna push it around on its wheels with your Power Armor?"

It hurt so goddamn much but…she was fucking right. I had even said as much to her myself with my own fat beak that I would barely be able to cram myself inside the thing. There wasn’t even a point in attempting to salvage some sort of claim to dibs over it.

"Alright, fuckin' take it then! But I've got dibs on everything else then."

"Hey! This place is more than big enough for the three of us to have an equal share here." She growled back, bringing up another fair point that could earn me more kudos against her taking in the Bounty. "I'll take a lesser portion of whatever else you find. How about this, if it has anything to do with my Corps, it's mine. With yours getting the lion's-share of the military budget, that should be a decent compromise I think. You can have the base too. Actually...hmmm...let's debate that one later. Since this thing can land in here, I have a use for this place as well so that muddies the water."

I tried for almost a minute to form any sort of counter proposal that would edge her out of more shit but, eventually I grunted out, "Yeah. Sure...that sounds fine."

"Awesome! Now, unless you've found anything super interesting yourself, I'd love to get back to what I was doing."

"Eh, nothing much..." I grumbled boredly while thinking over our mildly interesting finds. "Just the main command center, canteen, a bunch of barracks, and locker room. Some neat shit but with everything on emergency power...just not a whole lot to look at so far. We're finishing up our sweep of this level, headed down to Sublevel-2 in a minute or two. Garand, out."

“Just couldn’t say no tah her, eh?” Firefly chided with sarcastic glee once the channel was set back to standby. “Just gonna let her take tha’ damned fancy flyin’ thing without even ah fight?”

“Oh don’t you start with that shit… Look, you heard her yourself. I’d be stupid to even think about taking that thing as my own since I could barely get into the crew cabin at my size. It’s just…smart deal-making on the fly is all, nothing more to read into than that, alright?”

“Righ’...” He chuckled in reply, glancing back towards the path back to the stairway out. “Well, ain’t no use pokin’ more ‘round these parts. Let’s get back to th’ lift n' get ah lookin’ at th’ next floor.”

Given he had already riled me up somewhat, I only responded with a grunt and a nod before starting the journey the same way that we came. The road back up the awkwardly small stairs, across the atrium and into the elevator was a bit of a blur as my mind was…distracted to say the least. Enough so that Firefly had to push the button on the panel to send us down to Sublevel-2 and tap me on the bracer to get my attention back on the present. By the time I realized my lapse in concentration, it was too late for me to acknowledge it and save any sort of face. Instead, I just silently waited until the elevator once again provided a sufficient distraction from the moment with a ding of its little bell; in particular, a distraction from my embarrassing moment. The view it presented us once it opened was another sizable atrium of sorts, this one squared off and sporting an abundance of comfy sitting space and the first bits of living green we had seen so far. Raised grow beds of decorative brickwork containing colorful flowers, short shrubs and even some graceful ferns were placed amongst the padded benches, providing something natural to sit and relax around amongst so much government concrete. With such ample headspace, several trees had even been fit into the area in some particularly large planters, though to both our surprise, none of them were overgrown. In fact, each and every last leaf and petal was well-kept and in place as if the plant had been frozen in time at the peak of its respective bloom. Something arcane had been done to them, that was beyond obvious but…it still threw my head for another loop it wasn’t in the mood for. Pony magic could do some crazy shit if enough of ‘em threw their horned heads at the problem.

“Goddamn…” Firefly mumbled in awe, pausing tentatively to lean in and sniff a nearby tulip. “Wow! These ain’t fake! Th’ hell they do tah keep em like this fer two-hundred years?!”

“Wrong guy to ask, sorry.” I responded, my mind relaxing somewhat at the sight of real plantlife again. “It’s magic, all I can say on that front. Some sorta fancy spellwork neither of us is qualified to even read about, let alone cast. If I wanted to toss out another guess that is. It’s…a nice touch though, I have to admit. Been awhile since I’ve seen some real plants that weren’t desert or general Wasteland natives. Hell…how much you wanna bet that these are the only surviving members of their respective species? At least as they are now, unmutated.”

“Fuck…Ah ain’t thought o’ tha’...”

“Exactly. If I had less respect for this sort of installation and an eye on enriching myself, the seeds and live samples from these would probably catch the eye of some wealthy parties.”

“Yew wouldn’t!”

“Of course not!” I shot back, gently cupping a rose between my talons while still on the bush. “I wouldn’t harm relics like these for any kind of money! The natural world is a damned beautiful thing and as someone who was around before most shit went to hell, it’s nice to know there’s a small piece of it right down here still.”

“Good.” He snorted with a slight frown at the thought. “Beauty like this oughta be left where it be. Ah do agree wit’ ya though, it’s nice tah be around somethin’ green n' alive. Come on! There’s gotta be more tah this floor then ah lil’ walk n' sit through nature!”

Now that our eyes had finally been peeled away from the veritable little garden around us, we each began to notice new aspects of the space that we had been blind to earlier. The walls were painted with a mural from wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling of the great outdoors; or at least what used to be the great outdoors two centuries earlier, before Balefire ushered in an indiscriminate scorched-earth policy on most of the world. Rolling plains of emerald green grasslands with some rolling hills scattered about surrounded us at eye-level while above, a facsimile of the blue sky of old lightly brushed with clouds taunted me. I still lived with memories of a time when the skies above weren’t mostly full of clouds and the ones that did come about were under some sort of manual control from a pair of wings… Another large crystal chandelier with glittering baubles dangling below it hung from the ceiling which, itself, sported a highly stylized mural of the Sun that fittingly encircled the chandelier like a fiery halo. Air vents were cleverly hidden by further paint which, along with what felt like some kind of light artificial humidity, provided for an extremely comfortable atmosphere so far underground. Even the plant life around us came with tasteful mood lighting built off of or into their planters, adding on yet another layer of homely comfort I found surprisingly impactful. Further on, the unsurprising sight of yet another double-wide Maglock bulkhead sealed shut awaited us, accompanied a short ways on either side by two smaller hatches. In a nice twist of fate though, we didn’t even have to do anything this time as the largest door hissed wide open for us as we approached. However, even this little victory did little to cushion the blow of what the next room held in store for us.

Extending on for hundreds, maybe even a thousand-feet, the path ahead of us immediately transformed into a broad catwalk suspended over a room that was easily a couple hundred feet tall and several hundred wide on its own. On either side, wide rectangular pods with tinted exterior windows were stacked some ten units high and spanned the length of the colossal room; each row featuring its own separate catwalk system connected by short stairways every hundred-or-so feet. Facing inwards, each pod I could see had a visible door leading inside, alongside what appeared to be a mail receptacle, some faint names painted on the wall and some basic exterior lighting. Each rectangular pod was roughly the same dimensions as a typical Sky Freighter shipping container though far more homely in appearance, if still a bit on the bland side. If they were intended one-per individual, the small space inside each unit was rather spacious given the circumstances and, hopefully, comfy enough to live in long-term. There were surely those who would otherwise complain at such a lack of personal space to call one's own but, these were the same people who had likely not experienced extended periods without a shred of privacy. Even most officers had to rack up in bunkrooms alongside their units with private quarters such as these only reserved to the most ‘important’ officers on base. After another few moments we both started moving forward, straining our eyes to see just how far down this unorthodox housing sector went.

“Ah…Ah don’ have any words…” He stammered softly aloud, an awe I likewise shared.

“Tell me about it…” I replied with wide eyes and rapt attention to our surroundings. “There’s gotta be over two hundred of these things in here, easy. No idea what they could be, never seen things like this before. Each one of ‘em has a door and some kinda label on the wall next to them so…could be housing units of some sort? I don’t think they expected scientists from the Ministries to share bunk rooms like those barracks upstairs. Won’t know unless we crack one open but…just…holy shit…wow…”

The sheer scale of the enormous hall of concrete surrounding us seemed to repeatedly beat each of us over the head with the revelation of its mere existence. Vertigo wasn’t all too familiar to me as a Gryphon, even without having used my wings to properly fly since I was a fledgling, but…I had to take looks downwards in small doses. Once we had overcome some of the inherent wobbliness in our legs from the drop underneath us, we continued along the path till it branched off in a cross-intersection. From here, the two branching paths which led to the far walls met with a set of descending platforms connected from where we were to the bottom level via an relatively unenclosed lift. Each platform then connected with one of the levels of catwalks servicing the individual units, the abundance of support beams across the structure giving me some added peace of mind. Naturally, we tried the lift as it was already docked at the topmost floor and rode it down a single level just so we could prod into one of the units for a quick peek. The machine functioned silently on greased gears without a single hitch while it dropped us down one level to access the system of catwalks below.

“Just how many damned ponies this place need anyways?” He mumbled as we exited the lift and onto the catwalk. “Ah think two-hundred is too low…tha’ top walkway there went on for ages…”

“Hey, a spitball answer is a spitball. I agree, it definitely looks like a lot more than just a couple hundred but that’s beside the point right now. Now…let’s see here…”

We had rounded a corner and around the front of the closet unit we could reach. The entire structure was made of metal painted a boring light gray color that contrasted well enough with the name ‘Dr. Coronal Sunrise’ stenciled to the right of the sealed hatch in red. To the left of the doorway set with a small reinforced window was yet another small terminal with a space for a PipBuck to plug in for instant access as well as a slot beneath it for an access card. Creepily as all hell though…the door immediately popped open for us without so much as a single message on the screen or anything the second my plug clicked into the socket. The door opening was itself in no way creepy or spooky but rather, it was the mere idea that General Olive’s credentials had cracked open the personal home of a female member of staff with zero hesitation. I had always known him and heard of him referred to as a true old school scumbag, but this? This was something else... But, there was nothing to be done about it as soft recessed lighting automatically came on as we entered. Inside, the comfortable bare minimum for rest and relaxation were provided with a small bed, kitchenette, a tiny couch and a modest TV all crammed into the space. A second hatch remained closed at the back, but I was putting my caps on it leading to a similarly tiny private bathroom. Signs of actual habitation were finally on display as scattered notes and open books littered the unkempt bed, couch and what little counter space the unit provided. One of the rare portable mini-terminals used by scientists and medics alike sat dead on the corner of her bed, the SparkPacks fueling it having likely outlasted their own half-lives and died. An additional monitor with a deployable keyboard hung suspended above the narrow queen-sized bed, attached to an adjustable arm coming off of a mounting point in the ceiling. Interestingly, a pair of pristine Ministry of Arcane Science lab coats hung from a simple peg on the wall nearby some pristine potted plants set into recessed alcoves; the signs of a meal long since abandoned sat in the tiny sink against the wall by some compact cabinets. I had seen enough so far to assume beyond a doubt that the base was in at least partial operation before the Great War. As for how long and with how many ponies on site though…? I still needed more information to fit that piece into place.

“Yeesh…this Dr. lady is ah bit o’ ah slob ain’t she? It’s like mah old bunkmate back in Camp Barely in th’ NER heartlands…”

“Oh like either of us are any better when given some private space to kick back and not obey each and every rule we have to follow?”

“Touché… Still, tha’ fucker was always leavin’ shit around th’ barracks. Pissin’ in SparkleCola bottles n’ leavin’ ‘em in random places, chewed th’ livin’ hell outta tha’ rough ground coyote tobacco…boy am Ah glad Ah signed onto First Recon when they asked. Got meh far th' hell away from him...”

“I bet heh, knew some of those types back in the day myself. What happened to the shithead, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Hell naw, yer good tah ask. Don’t rightly know tah disappoint ya, Ah got nicked off tah train at th’ Hawk’s Nest before he got any deployment orders. Hawk’s Nest is our nickname fer First Recon’s Camp Longshot, wayyy up North in the Seaddle Mountains before ya ask ‘cause Ah already see ya wonderin’ after tha’.”

“Thank you for that.” I laughed in gratitude given I was relatively unversed in all things NER. “Well, if it’s any consolation, the motherfucker I knew was some jackass named Lieutenant…Berry? Fuck, I forget… Anyways, dumbass did a lot of the same shit as that guy you were talking about during my couple years spent getting ‘naturalized’ into the Equestrian Armed Forces from the Greifenländer. After making a total ass of himself for the entire time there, always making a big talk about how much ass he’s gonna kick down on the Southern Front… Motherfucker goes and gets himself blended by a goddamn Scorpio robot emerging from the earth not twenty-minutes into his first day fighting in the Badlands. Not a way anyone should go, but…goddamn does the memory give me a bit of a smile when it pokes its way into my head sometimes.”

“Ah…wha’ robot…?” He asked with complete confusion, something I definitely deserved.

“Old Zeeb magic-tech. They basically made bigass semi-mechanical beasts by building facsimiles of astrological symbols of theirs out of wood, metal and flawless gemstones. Then, using some sort of ritual to possess it with angry spirits, they'd create these freakish robotic looking things, in this case something similar to a scorpion. Think RadScorpions, but way faster and much scarier to face down. Fuckers could shoot bolts of magic at you out of a cannon in their tail that could literally blast your Soul outta your fucking body. Gods I’m glad they’re a relic of the past…lotta good shit was lost but they weren’t one of ‘em.”

“Sweet fuck…how th’ fuck did anypony survive down there wit’ freaks like them tah fight against? Tha’ sounds downright hellish…”

“Yeah…I try not to think about how I made it through it myself…”

After a few moments of awkward silence while standing in the empty apartment, Firefly cleared his throat and said, “Well, yew were right about these things at least. Looks like they shacked up a whole mess o’ ponies in this place. Ain’t much more tah see on this floor then probably, so why don’t we just move on tah th’ next one n' hope fer somethin’ more usable fer us?”

“Yeahhh…probably our best bet. No idea how long the mare’s gonna take exploring that Vertibird of hers, but none of us have time to waste on bullshit.”

“Tha’s wha’ Ah was sayin’!” He replied with a soft smirk before leading the way back out onto the catwalk overlooking a tremendous fall. “Woah fuck meh…fergot abou’ tha’ drop…”

“You’re good, just put your eyes on the lift thingy so we can get back to the main elevator. Getting close on the next check-in so let’s pick it up a lil’ bit.”

The return journey was quick and smooth thankfully enough, the lift functioning perfectly on quiet gears while my attention noticed the pathways were rubberized for traction and the railings were imbedded with small LED lights at regular intervals. Indeed, our trip back revealed other small, appreciable quality-of-life additions that increased my respect and admiration for the countless hooves that must have touched the blueprints during construction. There was still a mystery door at the far, far end of the uppermost walkway but, neither of us seemed to feel up to making the long trip to find out when the presence of so much housing limited what it could be. Showers and bathrooms, another canteen, recreation facilities, a place to work out and stay fit…all of the above even? It was a mystery we could solve some other time once the Order was prevented from accessing this magnificent place. Even amongst all the marvels we had seen and found so far during our little escapade, the weight of the impending Rangers making their way towards us was getting heavier by the minute. By the time we reached the sitting room with the elevator, I decided it was best to just take a moment to sit and get a quick bite to eat while I hailed Athena again. Once I had a can of potted meat peeled open and the tin lid tossed in one of the dozens of trash bins around the sitting lounge, I pulled up the radio feature in my PipBuck and steeled myself against her shit.

"Second check in, anything new?"

Her response was quicker than the first time as she answered, "Well...checked out one of the gunnery stations above those side-mounted .50s and they seem to be pretty advanced. Can't say for sure until I get main power up, but I wanna explore everything while everything's off so I don't trip any buttons or switches I haven't accounted for."

"Anything else?" I mumbled around a mouthful of canned meat.

"Well, believe me or not but there's four smaller cabins in the center and upper fuselage. First one I checked was a tiny ass college apartment sized kitchenette with fuckin' food for days and a working fridge. Even more interesting than that, I just found an onboard armory that looks packed with weapons. Well, as packed as this small space can get. Plenty of space for tools too, has the makings for a terrific little crafting area if you ask me. Probably what it was meant for but I've yet to check any of the cabinets or drawers in here."

"Fair enough I guess…” I replied with a sigh after bothering to swallow. “We just found a buncha living pod things for more important base personnel in a bigass room. Pretty nifty little things with beds and shit, if a bit cramped for space but…everything is with you ponies. Cool to look at, but nothing we can make use of right now. Anything interesting in that armory of yours you mentioned?"

"Uh...lemme check..." Came her own mumbled reply as she seemed to take a moment to look. "I'm seeing...some M16s, no shock there. M14s...G3s...oooh, a couple Barnette .50s and M-RADs! A lot of these smaller ones are hard to see clearly... They're all in cages and I don't wanna break them trying to get the locks open. This is a pretty slick little room lemme tell ya, would be a waste to just break shit...I can find someone to get these open properly. He's back up North but if I can get this thing flying, that won't be an issue."

"Take your word for it, mare. Anything else interesting?"

There was a much longer pause this time as she examined whatever else was captivating her interest up there. The outside of her new toy was a mechanical marvel and a beautiful piece of work at that. Gods only knew what else was stuffed inside those rooms I’d never dream of trying to stuff myself into.

"Huh...this looks like a Power Armor maintenance station!" She exclaimed finally after almost a minute of silence. "Damn thing is stuffed in a tiny closet thing with an area extension spell and a full workshop of tools. Looks big enough to service even Griffin Power Armors...one at a time of course but still, this is a lot to cram into this bitch..."

"Heh, that's what he said.” I replied with a snort of amusement before adding on, “You'll have to try and show me some of these tools when we meet back up. Might have shit in there I've been missing for months. Alright, cool beans...have fun, nerd."

And with that I put the channel back on stand-by mode and plopped the rest of the meat left in the can into my mouth before tossing my trash away. A little workbench, cages with weapons and a Power Armor repair station? This Vertibird was proving to be a well of happy surprises and in some ways, I envied her search over ours for two reasons. One was the near-instant gratification in her exploration as everything was close by and two, she didn’t have anywhere near as far to walk to get to what she wanted to poke around with. All the same, we had found some pretty neat shit of our own so far and though both floors had been busts as far as things that could help us against the SR, we had still found important bits of infrastructure that could come in handy once it was all over. That was, of course, assuming our problems were going to be solved and she managed to get the thing flying enough to use those nasty weapons it was packing.

“Common ya big dingus.” He chuckled after another moment of lapsing into conflicted thoughts. “Let’s get tah th’ next floor! Gotta have somethin’ worth talkin’ abou’ next time she calls.”

“I’m the one calling her, but…sure…” I grunted back, entering back into the elevator once the doors had opened wide enough.

“Eh, yer no fun.” He pouted while taking the opportunity to tap the button to the next floor. “Yew like her, Ah can tell.”

“Piss off, Firefly… She’s an annoying bitch more than anything else.”

“Sure, then why’d yer feathers ruffle up like when yew was holdin’ meh back in Junction 11? Don’ act like Ah didn’ see yew gettin’ all flustered over her shite-talk.”

“And I’ll stuff your ass again if I have to if it’ll get you to shut the fuck up about it, ya fuckin’ Glowstick.”

“Heh, heh…don’t forget tah pull mah tail n' nibble mah ears then, big guy!”

Another ding of the bell and another aggravating conversation cut graciously short for me and my waning sanity. A set of doors behind us opened this time, revealing a narrow hallway just wide enough for Firefly and I to walk side-by-side. Steel frames were visibly embedded in the concrete as extra reinforcement while the caged lighting was decidedly much more industrial than the previous floors. The thirty-foot passage ended with a sealed door which proved powerless to resist General Olive’s credentials asking it to open up. Once the seal was broken and the doors parted down the middle, we emerged from the wall of a sizable circular room with a slightly smaller round plate of metal in the center. Rising from two sides of this central plate were semicircular pillars marked up the insides by fine rows of hollow furloughs which didn’t make any sense until I lowered my gaze and recognized the rough circumference of the space. That as well as the set of large gear wheels partly poking through channels in the plate on either side and running along the cargo lift shaft before us. A shaft which led up to…

“So the Vertibird is alllll the way the fuck up there, huh?” I asked to no one in particular, gazing up the wide, circular shaft which rose up for three long stories. “Fuckin’ wild…”

“How do ya know tha’?” He asked in reply, drawing his rifle and shining a light upwards till the giant sealed door was vaguely in view. “Huh…ya know wha’? Ah see wha’ yew mean now…so tha’ means this thang is…?”

“Heavy cargo lift for what could only be some fuckin’ Gryphon vehicles!” I finished for him, a grin of glee hitting my face that I didn’t bother to mask. “What else could it be? That big maintenance tunnel thing leading into the hangar thing upstairs was only a halfway point for getting to the lift up to the front entrance area. This would be a perfect place to store more shit out of the way of all those maintenance bays and as long as the Vertibird was out of the way, they’d be able to haul whatever they needed up and outta here.”

“Hooooo boy…ain’t tha’ somethin’...” He whistled in amazement, the sound echoing around the chamber weirdly. “Huh…buncha doors along th’ wall. Whatcha think?”

My attention was so focused on the cargo elevator that I failed to notice the aforementioned doors he had brought up. At some fifteen-feet tall and twenty-odd wide, all eleven sliding steel doors came across as high-end garage doors, a sentiment that was proven correct after seeing the contents behind one which was only half-shut. Inside was a far wider repair bay than any of the ones we had seen in the maintenance hall, sporting a heavy overhead crane, several large robotic arms, towers of tool cabinets, and a deep, somewhat narrow pit in the center. No Kampfwagen sat waiting for me beyond the door, but the mere sight of such a well-stocked mechanics’ station was a welcome one for my Gryphon roots. There was enough space between the cargo lift in the center and the wall housing these large garages to allow for most vehicles I knew to comfortably turn and enter one of the available bays. Indeed, the lift itself also sported four small caged areas in the corners near the support pylons which seemed to be meant to protect personnel when the lift was in-transit. Each garage came with an access terminal built into the wall nearby while the lift itself came with two that I could see; one located within one of the safety cages on the lift itself and the other built into the outer face of one of the pylons. Dozens of lights were overhead, although only a rough third of them were actually giving off any light worth using. More security cameras marked the corners yet, like the lights, only a fraction of them seemed to actually show any signs of life. Yet more victims on the growing list of victims of a complex stuck running on emergency power for two-something centuries.

Directly across from the narrow entrance tunnel we came through lay a broad opening in the otherwise round room, the area beyond branching at a crossroads down seemingly three other paths. The most noticeable feature of the new space as we approached sat in the center of the crossroads, a smaller, rectangular lift with wide guide rails on either side rising up to a large steel-and-glass box built off the ceiling. The branches directly to the left and right of us were symmetrical to the last detail, possessing a wide, shallow trough down the center with multiple sets of robotic mechanist arms sat along either side. Given the breadth of the trough would comfortably accommodate any Kampfwagen I was familiar with, I made the assumption the many robotic assistants were meant for mass service overhauls of vehicles returning from the Southern Front. The ceiling here was vaulted quite high overhead, each branch coming with a massive overhead rail system mounting several industrial-sized crane lifts, undoubtedly to help move shit along the assembly line. Their far ends were occupied by several individual bays similar to the ones we had passed in the maintenance tunnel leading into the Vertibird’s hangar though, unlike the upstairs, these bays were all fully stocked on tools and supplies. More AutoMechanist rigs occupied these bays with their dozens of tool-bearing arms retracted and inactive against their central chassis with its large scanning eye. What caught me by surprise however, more than even the beautiful repair bays themselves, was the presence of actual color on the walls of each repair bay and even the AutoMechs themselves. In fact, all the walls here were painted a dark emerald green till about midway up the wall where it suddenly became an off-white color; plenty of caution statements, numbers, and letters were likewise painted on the walls and floor to give some basic idea as to what everything was. For once, we actually had some points of reference to act on which was a nice change of pace from earlier floors.

“Huh…so these are for things that’ll take longer than a week to repair…” I muttered aloud to Firefly while reading from a nearby diagram on the wall of a repair bay. “Looks like the rest here with the robot arms is meant for shit that’s between two-to-four days to patch up. Which…would make me guess that those bays we passed upstairs were going to be used for jobs that can be done in a day or less. Interesting…”

“Very interestin’!” He agreed with gusto while casting his gaze over the hundreds of tools on display with a look of satisfaction. “Never seen these freaky lookin’ AutoDocs hangin’ from th’ ceilin’ before. They meant fer fixin’ up tanks n' shit?”

“Yuppers, we were lucky to have a few of these back in Manehattan so I’ve even gotten to run a few in my time as a Steel Ranger Knight. You just upload a copy of the schematics to the main computer for whatever it is you need repaired, and the Virtual Intelligence unit will run scans and diagnostics to isolate the issue. From there, it’ll give the diagnostic report on the control terminal and suggest which repairs it can do to fix shit, and in what order. Just select what ya want it to do, set the program to run and let the machine work its magic. It can’t do everything of course, and there’s always going to be problems that someone with eyes needs to be around for, but overall it can take a lot of stress off any Engineers taking a crack at it. Really, it’s best suited for the finicky wiring, specialty nuts and bolts, and precision spot-welding more than anything, but still. One of those things you'd really miss if it suddenly went missing one day.”

“Ah bet th’ NER would love some of these things… They’ve got some of them ol’ Gryphon vehicles, but none be in tha’ good ah condition. Least, not as good as President Sandy woul' have ya believe through th' ol' propaganda machine. Somethin’ like this would prolly help ‘em along ah good long ways.”

“That’s not even mentioning owning the schematics for them.” I added onto his train of thought. “Couldn’t imagine trying to repair something like those without any sort of official manual to follow. Granted, of course, the damned thing wasn’t in Gryphon and was actually a translated copy.”

He replied with a nod and, once we had both seen our fill of the empty repair bay, we made our way back to the center and faced the last branch we had yet to explore as it featured a massive sealed bulkhead. Of course, this door proved no more a barrier as any of those previous and readily began to open after a few commands in the door controls and a quick connection with my PipBuck. The lighting, apparently entirely dead until we opened the door, came on one fixture at a time, slowly bringing into view a veritable victory parade’s worth of Kampfwagen. As to be expected, the tightly stacked rows of vehicles contained the usual assortment typically seen fielded amongst the Equestrian military; Sperlingskauz scout vehicles, Würger II half-tracks, Falke IIs and IIIs with their progressively larger barrels, and even several Falke IVs with their long-barreled 75mm high-velocity cannons. Each proud unit was parked nearly shoulder-to-shoulder in four long rows down the length of the final room, two down the center, the others against the walls, and just enough space to drive one between each row. With a quick sweep of the room with my eyes, I was rounding out my guess at around sixty-to-seventy units in total filling the space around me. The back end of the room formed a semicircular shape housing yet more individual bays, although these house some particularly large beauties I’d only ever read about in field reports from the campaign in the Zebralands, and declassified testing documents from the research bases back home.

“HOLY DAMN!” Firefly exclaimed in wonder as we got closer. “Never seen none of ‘em be so big!”

“Yeah…these must be Adler Is. It looks similar to how I’ve heard it described in those notes…” I replied, approaching the large vehicle with a bit of reverence.

The chassis of an average Falke medium-tank came in couple feet above the head of the average pony and, including the slightly squared turret, bumped the total height to just under nine-feet. These beasts were even taller and wider than that, towering a good two-or-three feet above me with wide, squared bodies and rounded turrets sporting one of the largest cannons I had ever seen. The 88mm had earned legendary status already for its previous tenure gunning down airborne incursions from the Empire so to fix it into a mobile platform like this was only prudent. Its distinctive squared muzzle brake with rounded corners was a dead giveaway however and it lorded over the vehicle which housed it with a commanding presence. Again though, even with the 88mm sticking out of the mantlet, the box-like shape of the body and the circular turret were both equally dead-giveaways. All eight Adler Is occupying the individual bays were painted in a vibrant and unmarred desert pattern while additional exterior stowage in the form of wire baskets and armored bins had been welded onto the chassis.

“These as big as they get…?” He asked quietly once he had taken a chance to take it all in. “This here’s fuckin’ massive, Garand. Like...Ah knew y'all built yer fuckers big but...this here's ah monster!”

“Oh trust me heh, I heard about a so-called Adler II colossus that had debuted back in the Greifenländer, but eh…none of em obviously made the trip across the Continental Sea to make a cameo here in Equestria. Though…if I’m being honest here, these are undoubtedly gonna be outta date if home hasn’t stopped innovating on everything like a compulsion. Gods…I can only guess what kinda advancements they’ve made with more recent designs that haven’t been around for two-hundred years.”

He nodded his head in appreciation, eyes wide with shock still from the revelation that something even bigger than this thing could possibly exist in the world. After a few more moments of silence, his brow furrowed somewhat and he opened his mouth to speak.

“Gettin’ tah be abou’ time tah call in tah Athena again.” He said, nodding towards my PipBuck. “Don’t be gettin’ all mushy on her now, big fella.”

“And you can promptly go fuck yourself if ya don’t mind. How about this 88 here? Ain’t much bigger than my dick so why don’t ya give it a fuckin’ go, eh?”

“Oh yew’d like tha’ too much, make th’ call already ya big baby.”

Rolling my eyes in his direction with as much vitriol as I could convey with a look, I pulled the radio channel back up and called out over the line just as I had previously. This time though…she didn’t respond, not even after three attempts to get her attention. Needless to say, I wasn't exactly a fan or enthused by this change in the status quo.

“What you think…?” I asked with just a hint of hesitation. “Bad sign or…?”

“Ah dunno…” He responded with a frown. “Maybe she’s busy wit’ somethin’ tha’ needs a lotta concentration n’ we’re just bein’ rude. Give her like…Ah dunno, five minutes? Try her again then n’ see wha’ happens.”

I paused a second to think it over before admitting to myself that his idea was probably the best course of action. Barring her having gotten the Vertibird working and somehow flying before taking off without us, there could be multiple reasons she wasn’t responding. Not the least of which being the hundreds of feet separating us and all the concrete filling most of that space in between that could be interfering with the signal.

“Alright…well, let’s go see if we can get that lift thing in the center back there working and check out that glass box thing up there.” I suggested once I had brought myself to concede his point. “Should be enough of a time-killer I think since we’re still down here.”

“Fair ‘nuff. Let’s go find out!”

With little to stop us we reached the central, rectangular lift in short order and I set about accessing one of the two terminals attached to the support pylons. Yet again my pilfered credentials came to our rescue as a mere few inputs redirected power from the vehicle cold storage in the back room and onto the lift; the massive bulkhead door sealing itself back shut as I did so. Massive steel latches likewise clunked off and away from restraining the platform in place, rising up into shallow recesses in the base of the guide rail pylons. Once they were fully retracted, a single klaxon note played from a speaker next to the terminals and a solitary plinth rose up from the corner, a lonely button emerging from its center glowing a friendly green. With nothing left for it, I jabbed my fist into it and immediately felt a shudder through my legs, followed by long peals from the klaxon alarm as the platform began to lift upwards. Halfway up the rails, the floor of the mysterious structure up above split down the middle in a hidden hatch, allowing for the lift to fit flush with the space now created for it. Inside, a sizable room was revealed that was part official office space and part engineering space; a typical desk station with terminals, cabinets and tables bogged down with papers on one side and a full-scale mechanists tool kit and accompanying heavy equipment on the other. The steel plated room lacked much in the way of personal character but sported massive, angled windows facing down towards each of the four main branches of the floor with maximum observation in all directions, including immediately below. Accompanying this peculiar vantage point were a set of four hatches which exited onto catwalks built along the center of each roof allowing someone, like say a Chief Engineer, to look down on the goings-on in the various work spaces down below. Like on the floor above, the safety railing lining its length was softly lit at regular intervals while the occasional terminal extended from a short pylon; equipment and job statuses along with emergency overrides likely possible from these computer stations.

Back inside the private…office, for lack of a better word, Firefly made himself comfortable in the high-backed office chair sat behind the basic metal desk absolutely laden down by papers, binders, and the orange plastic exteriors of some abandoned holotapes. Nearby filing cabinets stood with their drawers in varying states of opened and closed, file folders of blueprints and work orders poking out of the rows of documents within at random. A quick glance of the desk brought a name plate into view, knocked somewhat off to the side by all the clutter occupying the rest of the desk, but still quite legible.

“Huh…‘Chief Engineer Electrode Symphony, Mastersmith M.E’.” I read aloud from the brass placard riveted to the stand of red mahogany. “Masters in Engineering...so she was a full-on certified graduate from that old college thing run by the Engineers Corps back in the day. Interesting... Maybe she brought shit up here for final inspections or…something? That lift is definitely big enough for a single Kampfwagen to park on it, and she’s got a full top-notch set of equipment up here for this sorta work so that’s my best guess over here. What do you think?”

“Mmmff…Ah think she had ah good taste n’ chairs!” He replied with a satisfied grunt from where he lounged. “Ah dunno Garand, yer way more up fer all tha' mechanical bullshit than Ah am. We’re higher up now, why don’t ya give Athena another try, eh?”

I nodded in agreement and brought the channel back off of stand-by and called her name over dead air. When she yet again failed to respond, I’ll admit that I got a bit irritated. And it might have came out in how I responded next.

"Hey! Dumbass! You ignoring me or something now?"

"Huh...?"

Her voice finally answered the call and it sounded groggy as all hell.

"The fuck you been? Been trying to get your fuckin' attention for like ten minutes, mare. You fall asleep or something?"

"...Uhhh..."

"Oh for the love of...what, find a bunkroom of some sort I take it?” I asked, rolling my eyes in Firefly’s direction. “If the thing has a kitchenette but no place to sleep on a fucker that big, then I'd find a way to beat some past-tense Engineer asses."

"Mph...yeah, its got a bunkroom. Four of em plus clothing storage, a bench by the window and a small writing table in the corner. Nothing fancy but it's still kinda incredible."

"Bet ya a hundred caps the last one's gonna be a bathroom of some sort, I’m on a bit of a roll with that bet today.” I replied with a soft smirk given my streak with correct-enough guesses. “Either that or like...extra storage. If they could stuff all this shit into tight places everywhere else, then I'm expecting anything at this point."

"Well...lemme find out for sure but I'll take that bet. Wouldn't surprise me either at this point."

There was a pause as it sounded like she got to her hooves and started moving about wherever inside the Vertibird she happened to be at the time.

"Yep, it's a bathroom!" She whistled finally, the surprise in her voice even bigger than when she found the kitchenette. "A little cramped, but it's got a shitter and a pretty decent looking shower. Wonder how this thing does plumbing…?"

"Wonder why on your own time. Anything else interesting?"

"Nadda." She sighed in response. "Just got the cockpit left. Well, that and figuring out how to turn this sucker on. You?"

"Firefly and I found a nice big maintenance floor packed with a shitload of Kampfwagen! Most seem to have been mothballed into cold storage but they’re all in terrific condition and in numbers to boot. Shouldn't be too hard to figure out how to put them together and get them goin'. I hope..."

"Gotcha. Any clue as to when we should start heading out?"

"Uhh...not entirely sure to be honest.” I grunted, a bit irritated our happy bubble had to be popped by bringing that back up. “Caught sight of the party clear as day just a dozen-or-so miles from the Gap about a half-hour before you decided to take a shot at me. I'd guess we have until late this afternoon or early evening? Why? Think you might be able to get that behemoth up and flying?"

"Not sure yet..." She admitted herself, a bit of humility that was a little surprising to me. "Gotta see the cockpit for myself still, but as long as the controls are similar to the ones I'm used to, I should be able to get it up and running. As for flying...well, I'll have to see."

"Well...do what you can then." I grunted again in reply, not wanting to betray the fact I was starting to like the sound of her voice. "That 30mm would wipe the floor of most of them and make our lives a lot easier, especially if they're Dual Purpose rounds with a penetrator. Garand, out."

My reprieve was short-lived as Firefly yet again caught onto the battles going on under the surface. I truly wondered if he was just that insightful or…if I had started wearing some of my stupid heart out on my sleeve for people like him to see?

“Yew could stand tah be ah little nicer tah her, ya know?” He chided me with a soft scowl. “She’s been right rosy tah ya since y’all made up back there. Why give her th’ gruff n’ stoic treatment each n' every time?”

“Oh come off it, Glowstick.” I retorted, clenching my beak in even further irritation. “She’s a fuckin’ acquaintance at best. Sure, I met her a couple of times before now, but that was literally two-centuries ago. I’m sure enough shit has changed between then and now for that sorta relationship to be next to useless by now.”

“And yet, she stopped fightin’ ya th’ moment ya told her who ya really were and she told you th’ same on her end. Ah’ve seen tha’ mare drag corpses across th’ desert withou’ so much as blinkin’ an eye o’ regret 'bout th' sorry fucks she just shot down. If she’s turnin’ down tha’ kinda money fer yer sake…? She’s either gone nutters, or…she thinks keepin’ ya around is worth more than th’ payday. Fer one reason 'er 'nother.”

“Humph…like the Order was actually gonna cough up the caps if she went and tried that shit anyway…”

“Sure, n’ yet she ain’t done nothin’ tah ya since. Just sayin’, Garand. Tha’ ain’t th’ Athena Ah’ve come tah know n’ hear abou’ round these parts. Think abou' tha', would yew?”

“Humph…”

**********

Chapter 12: Explorations Put On Hold

Thus far, Outpost Zeta had exceeded any expectations I might have been setting for it before we had arrived and started cracking open its long-abandoned secrets. Military bunkers and installations came in all shapes and sizes depending on their function, location and, probably most important, the kind of budget allotted to the project. The Pre-War stockpiles I had rummaged through back East were all mostly small civil defense bunkers that had their miniaturized Crystalline Reactors run outta juice or otherwise reverted to emergency power. Though the Order had peeled back every inch of territory under their control for any scrap of the old world they could reclaim and repurpose, the War with the Zeebs had gone on for close to twenty-years with untold trillions spent on the effort across those years. There was just always something new to find out there in the Wasteland, some unknown little chunk of the Equestrian military budget made of steel and concrete lying in wait for someone to stumble across it. Equestria was studded with thousands of such facilities like ticks infesting a RadStag; existing as a veritable police state under the guise of an addled monarchy, which itself was puppeteered by the High Command of the Equestrian Armed Forces. I had learned rather late that Princess Luna was still a ‘green’ monarch due to some thousand-year banishment she had only recently returned from once the preludes to War began to play out on the world stage. Given anyone would be understandably out-of-touch with everything after so much time had passed, she had originally been put into a modest, background position working alongside her older sister Celestia. And then, in what probably felt like the blink of an eye to an immortal species like her, the Zebra-Equestrian War had erupted around her, and her older sister abandoned the throne like a coward. For her to even try and step up to assume that mantle…I had to give her some credit, even if it turned out to be a fucking crapshoot. After all…her sister had appointed those Generals and the Ministries had assigned their own representatives to the High Council, not her. Her only mistake was in having any faith in anything set out by Celestia at that point…but all the same, I didn’t blame her.

Back to the topic of Equestria’s military tick infestation, my luck with supplies was fairly consistent while I hauled ass across the East on my way to the Gap and into (slightly) friendlier territory. The small bunkers I targeted were either located in RadZones and designated as too risky for such a small reward, or were simply well hidden and their lack of power made them invisible to the Order’s usual methods of locating them. My Power Armor and enhanced resilience to arcane radiation made dipping into all but the worst RadZones a breeze, while I made use of digital Pre-War maps I had kept hidden in a Sigil Stone from the SR until after my escape. With the decade-plus of time my kind had spent working on Equestrian soil, we had found plenty of opportunities to make maps of our own that didn’t include all the censorships that came with the ones given to us by the EAF. As a result, I was better informed than anyone else as to where military installations could be found; at least as far as the East was concerned. There was never any grand score to be found in the small pickings I went for as part of my attempts to keep a lower profile while on the move. The best find had been the near-pristine .30 Carbine and over a dozen magazines that I had punched my way into an armored case for. I had chosen a rather bad time to make my escape given the state of my supplies had been paltry at best. Left with only a few dozen rounds for my revolver, my specialists’ machete and a broken FIM-6 launcher with no spare missiles, to find any weapon with abundant ammo so soon after my unscheduled leave of absence was a blessing. My armor made many encounters literally bounce off me like water on oil, but getting close enough to use my machete to save my .454 Castle rounds for bigger threats…that came with it’s own dangers. Having something to allow me to keep some distance between me and most enemies was a boon that carried my ass past the Gap.

The intelligence services of the Greifenländer had been far from idle back in the day when it came to scouting out our allies just as we would our foes. Though we had allied with them and their forced alliance, there had always been talk in private that the ponies would attempt to annex us one day as well. Given they had done so to several of their neighboring countries (save the Mareseillians who had given them hell sometime in the late 2050s), it was only right of us to assume that were the War won, or got much worse, conflict would inevitably spark between our nations. The partnership had been something that was…not exactly ‘mutually beneficial’, but rather a convenient avenue for my kind to wage war in a way we hadn’t been able to in centuries. Given the unification of the old Gryphon Kingdoms into one cohesive Greifenländer happened long before my hatching, I and many other Gryphons had been denied those bloody years of infighting. Instead, those like myself who worshiped our God of War Krie sought our glorious combat in others’ wars. Indeed, once War had broken out between the Zebras and Equestrians, we all viewed it as a welcome change of pace from our years of peaceful innovation. Though we had dulled our battle talons for one another through intelligent and peaceful means, they had quickly regained their edge against the grindstone of a proper world war. That all said however…we were on guard against everyone, including our own allies. If they somehow had won the War on the Zeebs, Equestria had become so entrenched with its own military that it was going to need a new enemy to face in order to keep the status quo going. Once the Zeebs fell, we could only have been the next ones caught in the sights of the next territorial expansion.

“Yo! Terra Firma tah Captain FuzzyNuts! Where’s yer big ol’ birdbrain wanderin’ off to now, eh?”

With a start I dropped out of thought and back to the catwalk we were standing on overlooking the mostly empty branching halls of Sublevel-3. After my conversation with Athena, and especially after the one with Firefly that had come immediately after, I had escaped into the privacy of my own head for awhile. It wasn’t something I tended to do given memory lane went right through a goddamn minefield of pent-up emotional issues, but in times as awkward as those…it was the better of two hells to endure.

“Back up that tight ass of yours.” I retorted with a smirk in the Changeling’s direction. “How’s that for an answer?”

“Mmm…damned fine one, but we ain’t got th’ time tah get all hot n’ toasty wit’ th’ dick-on-dick action big feller. Otherwise Ah might take ya up on tha’.”

“Heh, yeah of course you’d like to get stuffed by me again you gay ass slut.”

“Heh, n’ Ah bet yew’d like tah stuff Athena too. Wouldn’ ya?”

I didn’t even grace him with any sort of response this time, instead opting to leave his smug ass where he stood alone on the catwalks as I returned back to the Chief Engineer’s office. Once the hatch had sealed shut behind me, I decided to take my petty anger out on him further by stepping onto the cargo lift in the center of the room and pressing the button to descend. I was not so petty as to then use the terminal to lockdown the lift and leave him stranded up there, but it would inconvenience him just enough for the move to feel justified revenge. It wasn’t even that I was mad at him for his continued pokes and prods related to Athena… I just hated that part of me knew he was speaking nothing but facts about me despite how much terror it put into my Soul. The rational part of me was on edge and weirdly intrigued, while every other part of me was just wondering why the fuck I kept dwelling on just one goddamn mare. Once the lift came to a complete stop and the hatch in the floor above sealed shut, I stepped off and could finally hear Firefly over the noise of the klaxon.

“Oh fuck yew too!” He called down from the catwalks above. “Just ‘cause yer ah poor sport don’ mean yew gots tah abandon me up here dingus!”

“Please…the lift’s still active, I just wanted to be a dick back to you in a way that didn’t need words.” I called back in reply, reaching around the plinth to slap the button to send it back up for him. “Catch ya in the elevator, Glowstick!”

Whatever he might have cursed back in my direction was once again drowned out by the noise of the lift rising back up, accompanied by its warning alarms and flashing lights. Having said what I wanted to for the moment, I welcomed this second brief break from Firefly and his snide, playful jabs at my expense. It wasn’t my fault Athena was the first mare I’d ever met who’d properly kicked my ass in years upon years upon years… Wasn’t like I wanted her to be such a shiny shade of silvery grey with amethysts for eyes… And like that I was hating myself all over again as even the sanctity of my own thoughts had been tainted by Firefly calling attention to my flustered, and very confused, arousal over a chick who had tried to put a hole through me with a tungsten penetrator. Though thinking over all the particulars of the varying levels of intrigue surrounding the Pre-War state of affairs, it was an infinitely better use of my thoughts than thinking about the enchanting sound of her voice…

Once again my thoughts had taken my talons and paws far across the path and to the narrow passageway leading back to the personnel elevator. The hatch hissed open softly at my approach and the industrial lighting brightened as I entered; the elevator similarly sliding open to welcome me into a private little area where I could stand and think in peace away from him. Of course…it didn’t take long for her to return to my thoughts and I found myself bewildered as to why. I knew what lust felt like, there’d been plenty of tasty looking hybrids to take to bed in Stable 39 who knew how to have a good time, but…this was something different. While I couldn’t deny my dick was starting to warm to the mental image of Athena, I was feeling a helluva lot more than a simple lust for the mare. I’d never considered the idea of…love. Or…was it something else? There were too many things I had to think about and all the while, my chest and head burned and ached under the strain. My own mind was turning into a scary place to dwell in as confused, conflicting emotions and thoughts swirled around like an angry blender. It also didn’t help that in the back of my mind I knew the primal Gryphon in me was grinning in pleasure at having found a female that had bested me physically which was…a very old tradition. One my own parents and many others had engaged in themselves during their own traditional courtships… Before I knew it, the elevator door dinged suddenly and opened wide to reveal a still smug, if now slightly annoyed, Firefly.

“Thanks fer ditchin’ meh up there, asshole.” He grunted with a huff as he jerked his head to the side as my sign to make room for him. “But…Ah guess thanks fer not leavin’ meh entirely by mah lonesome down here. Not fer nuthin’ but…Ah ain’t one fer bunkers n’ underground places like this. Leas’...not since Ah became ah Ghoul, ya know…”

I nodded and gently patted him on the back as reassuringly as I could without coming off as condescending or too soft; pressing the button to Sublevel-4 once my hand was free. I remembered what he had told me about the circumstances surrounding his Ghoulification and the irradiated Stable responsible for it. He wore his affliction well compared to other species which lost their fur and feathers; the only indication coming from the wrinkled look to his black carapace and the occasional crack exposing his glowing green muscles underneath. That being said, just because he physically didn’t look too worse for wear didn’t mean he didn’t come away from the experience with a healthy dose of claustrophobia.

“Hey, I’m just honestly glad to have someone I can explore this place with.” I replied as genuinely as I could. “I’m glad I have someone who can enjoy this alongside me who isn’t just some…SR Tin Head like I’ve had the last fifty years. Someone who’s their own person and isn’t just a machine operated by a Codex of rules and regulations but, at the same time, follows a good personal code. You’re that kinda guy. And I appreciate the hell outta that.”

“Um…well…Ah’m flattered, Garand.” He blushed softly as he looked up at me. “If tha’s yew sayin’ yer glad we met…yeah, Ah agree wit’ tha’ sentiment. Ah’m glad we bumped intah each other n’ decided tah hit th’ road together. It’s been good tah finally have some competent help out here in th’ Wasteland fer once. First Recon taught meh tah work in teams o’ two, but Ah ain’t never found ah good second fer mah way o’ doin’ shit. Worked wit’ plenty o’ spotters while Ah worked behind ah rifle fer th’ NER, none o’ them suckers knew how tah roll wit’ how Ah like tah work in th’ field.”

“Till now?”

“Nope! And Ah think yer as good ah fit as Ah’ve found yet, so take it fer what it’s worth. Ah can do mah own spottin’ fer th’ most part thanks to mah DeadEye gear, but yew bring along some heavy firepower n’ even heavier armor. Tha’s somethin’ tha’ seems tah be workin’ alright so far.”

“Hey! Happy to bring the heat where ya need it partner. Let’s not forget, we haven’t exactly had a ton of combat time together so far as partners. That being said, yeah. I think our two ways of doing shit has been working out together pretty well so far.”

Before he could respond again, the elevator dinged once again and announced our arrival to the next floor on our mostly speedy tour of Outpost Zeta. Indeed, as soon as the doors slid back open we both dropped the heartfelt moment where it lay in favor of the possibilities on Sublevel-4. The previous floors must have made for high expectations as I found myself feeling underwhelmed when the doors slid open and revealed another waiting room of sorts. This one lacked any of the charm found on Sublevel-2 and featured no greenery or really, any sort of personality outside of the red and blue velvet used to upholster the bench lining the sides of the rectangular room. Like the other floors, the lighting was on the sparse end of things while only a few of the dozen or so security cameras displayed a glowing red light in their armored housings. Several industrial metal tables with adjustable height settings were bolted to the floor a few paces from the benches on either side of the room; a collection of tools for cleaning guns attached via small chains and large, refillable dispensers for disposable wipes sat in the center of each. Ending in another sealed Maglock at the far end, the rather barren room looked like it could seat around forty-to-fifty or so personnel while ‘entertainment’ was provided by a series of metal posters fastened to the walls by broad bolts.

ATTENTION: ALL FIREARMS ARE TO BE RETURNED AS THEY WERE ISSUED AND BE READY FOR INSPECTION UPON REQUEST.

REMEMBER: A CLEARED AND UNLOADED GUN IS A SAFE GUN. ABSOLUTELY NO LOADED FIREARMS ALLOWED BEYOND THIS POINT! *

*MP & Class-A Personnel Excluded.

ALL FIREARMS ARE TO BE:

UNLOADED WITH AN OPEN ACTION
CLEANED & OILED AS ISSUED
RETAIN ALL SERIAL NUMBERS VISIBLE AS ISSUED
RETAIN ALL COMPONENTS & ATTACHMENTS ISSUED WITH THE WEAPON
IMMEDIATELY RETURNED & REPORTED IF DEFECTIVE IN ANY WAY.

ANY BEHAVIOR TOWARDS ARMORERS DEEMED VIOLENT OR THREATENING WILL BE MET WITH LETHAL FORCE.

FAILURE TO COMPLY WITH ANY INSTRUCTIONS GIVEN BY AN ARMORER WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE DISCIPLINARY ACTION & POSSIBLE USE OF FORCE.

HAVE YOU ASKED YOUR FRIENDS OR LOVED ONES ABOUT SERVING THEIR COUNTRY BY JOINING THE EQUESTRIAN NATIONAL GUARD?

“Got a funny feeling, but I think we might have found the armory floor.” I chuckled aloud to Firefly after reading some of the posted reading material. “Unless this shit is giving you some other kind of ideas.”

“Aw common, Garand…” He groaned as if I'd chastised him like a child. “Ah ain't blind, we's definitely found th’ guns if these here posters are anythin’ tah go off of.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, heh. Common then, let’s see what this place looks like. So far, it’s pretty lackluster compared to the other floors so I’m hoping whatever’s behind this door holds up.”

“Dunno, them tables are kinda neat in mah opinion…NER could use somethin’ like ‘em fer damned sure in th’ barracks n’ such.”

“Hmph…what isn’t something the NER could use…?” I huffed quietly to myself while snaking the cord out from the back of my PipBuck for the umpteenth time.

Putting my thoughts on the Republic’s many material needs aside, I navigated the now all-too-familiar menu systems that popped up on some door terminals but not others. The way was made clear after another moment of fiddling with the infuriatingly small controls and Firefly was already making his way inside while I tugged on my data cord till it engaged the retracting spring. On my way to join him, we caught sight of our first point of interest so far on Sublevel-4 as we entered yet another circular room, this one featuring four Maglocks along the walls and a large armored information desk of sorts sat in the center. Sporting bolted-on ablative armor plates and what was probably a few inches of lightly tinted titanium quartz glass, the round structure seemed to house a couple of chairs sat behind large control stations with adjustable microphones extending out from round speakers built into the glass. I also couldn’t help but notice each speaker also seemed to house some kind of scanning device as a ring of small, highly polished crystal lenses could be seen studding its circumference like a jeweled ring. Rising from the center of the structure's domed roof was a wide pipe or shaft of some sort which extended all the way up to the ceiling, the exterior of which served as a mounting point for further cameras in armored housings. The roof of the room itself, as it went almost without saying for a place as security sensitive as this, was littered with the rounded undersides of further inactive auto-turrets. Security checkpoints like these were far from uncommon in bunkers and other facilities like this, though I had never seen one so…splurged on before. Indeed, like everything else we’d seen, few expenses seemed to have been spared during the construction of Outpost Zeta. Even if it were rather mundane in some places, a lot of good ideas had been implemented left and right into the facility that would have been right dreams to work with back in the day had it seen any active service.

Following the curve of the structure, at what could be called the halfway point in its circumference, rested a set of matching security hatches which allowed access to the computers within. Inside, we immediately discovered the pipe thing we had seen earlier was in fact another circular shaft for a small, one-to-two person cargo lift system. The computer stations, of which there were four (two per side facing outwards towards the glass), each possessed a bank of small monitors to one side seemingly tapped into the live security feed from outside; most screens blank and dead while a half dozen or so displayed the empty circular hall outside while one showed an overhead view of the two of us searching around. The consoles themselves all had the same four large lever bars, each labeled by a large number accompanied by an activation button underneath, protected under a plastic cover which was locked by a nearby key slot. A further two, full-size monitors were built into the stations as well with their own independent keyboards and access ports, including ports for external data storage devices. One screen, the one directly facing the glass, seemed meant for general purpose use while the second, canted at an angle, seemed arranged so the operator could glance between the screen and the glass. Thankfully, our luck was holding out somewhat when it came to labels and other helpful signs as to what was what around here.

“Huh…‘CAUTION: ALWAYS CROSS-CHECK CREDENTIALS AGAINST BIOLOGICAL ANALYSIS RESULTS!’ Interesting…” I mumbled aloud as I read the caution-painted little sign bolted along the top frame of the angled monitor.

“Wha’s tha’ supposed tah mean?” He responded with a cocked eyebrow as he glanced between me and the computer station.

“Well, I saw some sort of scanning device was built into the external speakers here…” I replied as I jutted a talon towards the circular devices built into the glass. “If it’s asking the operator to double check credentials against this…‘biological analysis’ thing it mentions…maybe it’s some sort of thing that ensures people are who they say they are? I don’t ever remember hearing Changelings being used against us like that, but it feels like an adequate redundancy to have built in just in case. Like…I dunno, I’m just spitballing here again.”

“Nah, tha’ makes more sense now tha’ yew put it into clearer words fer meh. Kinda creepy though if yew think abou’ it though… Them knowin’ exactly who n’ what yew are down tah the bone ‘er whatever?”

“Eh, I guess…though, with a base like this, I think this level of security is kinda warranted? I mean, you’d probably need some decently high standing with the old world brass in order to even be assigned here in the first place so the government would already have every dirty secret on everyone here. Having a full body scan like that…I dunno, comes off as being pretty tame to me comparative to the other shit they pulled back in the day.”

“If yew say so…still gives meh th’ creeps just thinkin’ abou’ it…”

After a moment of silence as we both glanced around at the somewhat cramped space, I glanced back at him and asked the obvious question, “Sooo…should we try for one of those doors first or find the mystery at the end of the lift thing in here?”

“Hmm…we went wit’ th’ mystery door th’ first time, let’s try th’ lift!” He replied jovially, jutting his head in its direction excitedly.

“Even if it’s gonna be something really boring probably? Common, what could possibly be up there that’s worth skipping the doors? For all we know it’s just a break room for the poor saps locked inside here during working hours.”

“Then let’s go n’ find out! Gonna explore it anyway, why not now when we’re both standin’ around in here?”

"Nah, you chose last time. If this is an armory and there's guns to be found, it's sure as hell to be behind those doors. Not inside that tiny ass lift to wherever the fuck it goes."

"Ugh, fine!" He grunted in a huff while jutting his head towards the console. "Do th' honors then, ya big blue bastard..."

I brushed him aside with a huff of my own in his direction, awkwardly stuffing my upper half around one of the control chairs which was stubbornly bolted in place on the floor. As some of the small lights on the consoles were glowing, I knew power wasn't going to be a concern as I went through the familiar process of plugging myself in. Like several other systems so far, lights, buttons and screens all came to life as one across the room with an audible thud the moment the system verified the uploaded credentials. Outside, through the thick tinted glass, I could see a ring of recessed bars of white lights had come to life around each large Maglock bulkhead; pairs of slowly spinning yellow lights protruding from small hatches at the top corners. Looking down, all four of the bar levers were likewise illuminated by small embedded LEDs of their own lit in a dull red accompanied by the large numbers which labeled them. The plastic covers protecting the key slots had also popped wide open sometime during the activation process though, we still lacked the appropriate keys to unlock the levers. Taking the initiative however, I kept my cable plugged in and decided to try and figure out if I could squeeze another favor out of General Olive's good name. Crouching even more awkwardly than before, and reduced to only using my right hand to interact with the keyboard and joystick, I chased the rabbit hole of menus for any edge that might let us crack open my chosen prize. On a hunch, I checked for any subroutines that would allow for an executive override and finally found a gem in the form of Protocol 4725: Annual Executive Officer's Inspection.

'Welcome, Supreme General Olive Branch! It has been [ERROR] days since last annual inspection, please assemble a meeting of all executive officers and staff on site for immediate emergency debriefing in Operations. Code Black Protocol is in effect. Override local lockdown?'

'Yes'

'Please Wait... Done.'

Welcome Supreme General Olive Branch! Please input your desired protocol.'

'Execute_Protocol_4725.exe'

With a loud thud that could be felt underpaw, the doors sealing off the security booth and the large Maglock bulkheads outside opened wide as one, along with large latches sliding up from off the lift in the center like the one upstairs leading to the Chief Engineer's office. At the same time, the general lighting in the area at large became noticeably brighter and more inviting and I could see somewhat beyond the Maglocks nearby into the rooms beyond. What I could see inside were yet more armored glass booths similar to the one we already occupied, though noticeably its front face featured shielded ports in the shape of inverted T's through which items could be transferred. Behind the glass of both booths, I could see the tops of several chairs poking up from behind the desktops with an odd rectangular recess in the back wall lined with glowing rods along the four corners. When we came closer to inspect them, our disappointment was made complete by an obvious lack of any visible weapons anywhere inside the booths. There was little room for doubt that weapons, equipment and ammunition were transferred to and from the armory via these booths as the T-shaped openings were the exact same style as had been used in countless military bases across the country, including Chapter headquarters for the Order. However, even after poking my head through the booth's open hatch, I didn't spy any sign of anything that went boom. There were empty racks on the walls and barren tabletops empty of anything interesting. Unfortunately...Firefly still had the chance of finding all the sweet racks of beautiful weaponry with his preferred choice; something he was happy to stuff in my face as we walked back to the security booth to give his idea a shot.

"Do Ah even need tah tell yew Ah told ya so?" He gloated in smug pride the entire way back, giving me the shit-eating grin of the century. "This here lift is th' real prize! Common! Let's give 'er a try now!"

I rolled my eyes in response and crammed myself alongside him on the small lift platform that was definitely designed for species a lot smaller than myself. It was a tight and awkward fit, forcing me to twist over myself like a pretzel just to fit while Firefly slid himself in the gap under my chest and legs. The ride up lasted what felt like a full ten-seconds as we ascended through the narrow concrete shaft ringed with lights every few feet or so, coming to a stop in another smaller circular room. An overhead rail system cut a rather skinny and shallow trough around the center of the room, emerging from a glowing rectangular energy field housed on the far wall and forming a complete loop around the room. The returning rail snaked its path neck-and-neck with the inbound rail and back through a second field of forest green magic set next to the first. The rails were already partially occupied by a couple of long, sectioned rectangular metal containers, each formed from multiple vertical pods which visibly housed the rounded hinges along one side necessary for them to round corners. They all likewise seemed to feature independent power sources as the broad metal backsides came with several electrical boxes with glowing lights and wiring encased beneath bolted-on steel half-pipe plates. Above, each mounting vice to the overhead rail came with extra machinery and a pair of large steel wheels protruding to each side, likely acting as motors to speed the pods on their way through here and off to…wherever the green energy field took them. The lighting in here was very industrial to boot, with metal cages around each fixture and ample light coverage even with half of them being off.

Four distinct sections branching off from the central loop also came into focus as I began to untangle myself from the lift platform; a set of identical workshops featuring an odd turnstile-like mechanism that appeared to allow operators to guide these pods from off the central loop and into each workstation as needed. After a quick step over the gap in the floor and around the side of the closest containers, the beautiful sight of pristine weapons greeted my eyes. Each individual pod that formed the roughly twelve-foot long container unit was about a yard wide and just as deep, containing a metal-and-rubber infrastructure that was perfectly suited for storing various pistols, rifles, launchers and other tools of combat. Two pods contained rows of standard-issue M16 service rifles with minimal attachments, while the other two had N99 pistols and a typical Squad’s heavier firepower respectively. Ammunition in the form of pre-made bandoliers full of empty magazines and large ammo boxes occupied a low cubby built into each pod directly below the rack of weapons. Retractable sliding metal doors could be pulled down from units at the top of each pod and locked in place at the bottom, more than likely for when they were in-transit along the rail. All four workshops themselves seemed entirely dedicated to the maintenance and inspection of firearms as each came stocked with work tables sporting all types of magnification lenses, padded vice grips, and extensive tool boxes. I recognized all the tools and equipment being used on sight, however the one bit that I was unfamiliar with were long, rectangular pads located to the sides of every workbench. Padded with lengthy oval-shaped rings of rubber and studded with recessed crystals, I was left a tad at a loss as to what they were for. Hologram tech had yet to make an appearance so far as we knew, but I was unwilling to place any solid bets on the idea. My second guess was perhaps some sort of static stasis field to suspend the weapons/parts being actively worked on in midair; a tech the Order itself made use of at a few Chapter HQs, those with the highest end hardware. Unlike the security booth below sadly, there was a major lack of helpful signage to work with. Several places sported the tell-tale four holes needed to fasten further metal information plates to the walls, worktables and certain places on the floor, but lacked the actual associated plates we needed.

“Gods almighty…” Firefly gasped breathlessly as we both gawked around. “Ah…sound like ah broken holotape, but…”

“The NER could really use shit like this?” I finished for him with a soft chuckle, my own brain firing off happy sensations at the sight of so many beautiful weapons on the racks.

“Y-yeah, heh…” He replied quietly, glancing over at me with the biggest fanged grin I’d seen on him yet. "These here weapon pod things...reckon they'd fit in them nooks we saw down in them booths?"

"The ones with the weird tech built into the corners? Yeah...I guess that...makes sense. Weapons change talons through those shielded ports in the glass, and from the booth into the pods for storage and such. Question is...how the hell do they get them in there?"

“Wouldn' put it past 'em tah be usin' fancy shit like teleportation magic 'er some shit in ah place like this. Oh…we’re ah bit late prolly, but we should try tah contact Athena again. It’s been more than long enough Ah think.”

I nodded wordlessly and conceded his point that we'd probably gone over the check-in time by a bit from all our looking around. Without further ado, I raised my PipBuck back up to my face so I could fiddle with the controls and bring up the radio tab in the menu. Firefly meanwhile began rifling through the open pods nearby and drooling over the treasure trove we had uncovered; his colt-like grin as strong as ever as he went. I brought up the channel, found a place to sit and called out for Athena once more. Only…this time, someone else answered the line. Still female, but definitely not the mare I had originally gone underground here with.

“Greetings Captain! I am AUNTIE! Please hold while I request the Colonel’s permission to establish direct radio contact.”

“W-what…? Who the fuck are you?!” I blurted back out into the microphone but getting no further response from the mysterious female voice.

My thoughts swirled at a thousand miles an hour over whatever the fuck it was I had just been told out of left field by this enigmatic third party that had just spoken. It made no sense as I tried to compute it in my head…

"Hi Garand."

"There you are! Who the fuck is AUNTIE?!” I half-shouted back at her in sheer confusion. “Auntie who?? And why the fuck is she on this channel? Who are you with? The fuck ya up to, mare?"

"Nice to hear from you too..." She sighed in response, more than likely rolling her eyes as well. "Listen, AUNTIE is a V.I that came with the Vertibird. She came online when I powered this thing up and I haven't had time to tell you about her yet. Was still trying to get things straight with her."

Now that made much more sense than anything my addled brain had been trying to pull together out of thin air. Though I couldn't investigate the interior like she could (and was), the exterior of that metal beast screamed there was a lofty price tag associated with it. If anything, not having a Virtual Intelligence unit on board would've been the more shocking of the two in retrospect…

"That thing has a fuckin V.I installed that can intercept radio frequencies? Damn...you weren't kidding, that ship has a lot of surprises. Is it listening in?"

"Naturally." She replied, that same unfamiliar young but mature mare voice coming in over the speaker. "This craft was also designed to convert into an emergency field hospital. Thus, emergency frequencies are within my jurisdiction to listen in on in the event we need to prepare the triage bay, or if there is a lot of information being exchanged and they need a record or interpretation of said record for logistical purposes."

"Yeah, yeah..." I sighed back, rolling my eyes at such a prim and proper robot personality giving too much info I didn't need. "Look, Auntie whoever you are, we've got some questions for ya. And don't tell me it's 'Classified' because that's bullshit. If you know what date it is, you'll know what happened outside this facility and know it's a moot point to care about that shit anymore."

"Indeed it is, Captain." Came her immediate response, my small spark of enjoyment in her agreement immediately tempered by, "Colonel? I know it does not matter but old habits die hard. Is the Captain permitted to ask such questions?"

"Uh, yeah. Granted." Athena replied with a rather gleeful laugh while my eye silently twitched in consternation.

"Oh, so I have your permission to speak? How fuckin' thoughtful of ya..." I groaned back over the radio, forcing myself to change gears to a more pressing matter. "Alright, number one. What do you know about this facility? It's a lot fucking bigger than my largest estimates guessed and there's plenty to be excited about in here. How can ya help us out?"

"I'm afraid I do not know, Captain. I was delivered here only two days before I lost auxiliary connection with my surroundings. Not only that, but I was left in standby mode with minimal sensor input available during the entire transit from Saddle Arabia to this location. I am able to detect the facility once again now that the Colonel has restored main power to my systems, however I am unable to establish a remote connection with the mainframe as there is insufficient power to the complex's transmitters for me to use them. It seems emergency power is not being routed properly to multiple subsystems I would otherwise have easy access to."

"So...restore power and you'll crack this shitbox wide open for us?" I summed it all up in one simple question we all could understand.

"Correct, Sir. I have security clearances unique to me that grant me General-level credentials and Alpha-3 clearance in Ministry of War facilities. It was deemed prudent given that live testing of my capabilities proved I am capable of handling the ship on my own and accessing or providing information as needed to the CO on board the craft. It likewise grants me priority landing clearance at any runway and remote access to external door controls of almost any enclosed landing bay. This is a trillion-bit government funded investment after all and it would be a waste to treat me less than I am worthy of."

"Oh really? Well...that changes things." Athena mumbled aloud before asking, "How did they get you in here? Don't think they would have taken you down into parts small enough for the cargo elevator we took to get down here. Or did they?"

"They did not via that route, Colonel. I was transported here inside multiple shipments on Sky Freighters from Saddle Arabia. Last definite ping off navigation beacons was approximately 100 miles due Northeast of this facility or 200 miles South/Southwest of Dodge Junction."

"That'd put you..." She started saying before I cut her off with my quicker talon on the map function.

"Right in the crook of the Embers on that side of the range, close to where they turn into the Ponyrenees to the East of us here.” I responded quickly as the area was rather close by already and I only needed to zoom out a little. “Heard this place was built into what used to be old Gem mines and ancient cave systems left over from the Dragons, so...guess they must have an entrance all the way out there. That is...both a benefit and a problem."

"Do elaborate, Captain?" She asked politely. "I'm afraid the realities of the world outside are unfamiliar to me since last I was awake, Equestria was two centuries younger and still at War with the Empire. That there's even a world still left out there is statistically surprising as well. A possibility, but one with multiple margins for error in my calculations given organic life's impeccable resilience. Or perhaps it should rather be called 'defiance'?"

"Oh there's definitely plenty of life and defiance out there in this wonderland of a new world." Athena laughed with a pained tone underpinning her voice.

"And most of it ain't friendly anymore." I replied before Firefly began interrupting me from across the room. Interrupting a lot to be more precise…

“Yew get a hold of her or are ya yammering away to herself o’er there?”

"Huh? No, I'm talking to her…”

“Oh, cool. Yew gonna tell her about this place here?”

“Yeah.”

“Reckon yew could help meh keep track o’ th’ number o’ guns in here? There's a lot…”

“Hell if I know, just make a fuckin' note of it or some shit…”

“You got anythin’ tah write wit’ then? Ah don't have no fancy PipBuck ‘er whatever.”

“Do I look like I carry a pencil and paper in my bags? What the fuck I look like to you, a personal secretary?"

“Dunno, could put ya in ah dress n’ see how ya look. No, Ah want somethin’ Ah can work wit’ Garand!”

"If you fuckin' need it so bad then go up to the fucking offices we saw earlier! Plenty of shit to keep you busy with…”

“We should start ah full inventory o’ all th’ lovely guns we're seein’ in here. Total stock o’er what we got just in this room here alone at least.”

“The fuck you mean 'inventory'?” I half-yelled at him in disbelief, clenching a fist in frustration. “…You wanna catalog every fucking little thing? Right now? Sure, whatever...just…”

“Kay! Awesome! How far up are them offices again?”

“Two floors up, ya ding dong!"

From the way I glared at him and sorta yelled at him that last time, he seemed to get the message that I still had shit of my own to finish; a fucking conversation for example…? Instead, he fell silent and set back to counting the number of weapons out loud to himself leaving me finally free to return to the conversation he had so rudely derailed. After a long, deeply heartfelt sigh of exasperation for the interruption, I began to speak once again into the mic. This time, I resolved to ignore whatever else came outta his mouth until I was at least finished talking to Athena.

"Ok. Bullshit aside...what I was saying was that if they transported you unassembled via some long ass tunnel from the Eastern side of the Embers, that means there's likely still a tunnel there today. That means we have an easy means past the Gap and right into the Dodge Junction area. However, that also means the Order would have an easy crack past the Gap as well if they ever happen to find it which...isn't a happy fuckin' thought to have floating around out there. How many knew about this tunnel system?"

"I'm afraid again Sir that I do not know.” She replied frankly, if to my great disappointment. “However, given that this...Order has not found it yet in over two centuries, I would say that is something in our favor until we learn more. What is this 'Order' you speak of, Sir? If I may so inquire."

I couldn’t help but sigh with a long pained groan of anger towards my now bitter enemies. "The mutated, rotting remains of the Steel Ranger Corps... They started out as M and T Companies, 3rd Battalion, 11th Armored Cavalry Regiment, 105th Division; casually called 'Mad' and 'Terror Company' respectively. They were the Steel Ranger contingent under Brigadier General Stone Mason acting as the inner and outer-city defense for Salt Lick City and the surrounding suburbs. Place was the main production facility and headquarters for West-Tec, the subsidiarity of Stable-Tec in partnership with the Ministry of War to solely produce certain products. In this case...this particular city was a major supplier of Power Armor to the War effort. Big target with lots of military infrastructure dug into it over the years so they just gave the area an entire fucking Brigade's worth of soldiers to delegate and distribute around as they saw fit. Minus those in Power Armor of course. They of course were best used as guards for the installations and riot control for the city when the food shortages hit again."

"Do continue, Sir." The female V.I prodded, something that irked me somewhat as I still wasn’t all too keen on robots.

"Yeah, we've got time for a little history." Athena then chimed in as well, poking her weirdly cheerful nose around in places I was already going anyway.

"Yeesh...as if one nosy mare wasn't bad enough...I was gonna tell ya anyway, yeesh.” I groaned in reply, rolling my eyes yet again if only to myself. “Well...the reason I'm willing to believe Athena's story is because General Mason was attacked by a large contingent of Crimson Dragons and cloaked infantry on the 20th of October, three days before the Great War. They had brought with them a Balefire Bomb set to detonate the facility and especially the power plant in order to blast as wide a crater in Central Equestria as they could. General Mason and his boys kicked their asses though and managed to capture five of their Shaman who were there to prepare the bomb with whatever ritual they do to make the bomb active. With some help from a couple of Ministry of Morale Unicorns, they got it ready to return to sender using their new prisoners."

"Wouldn't the Great War have started sooner then?" Athena butted in, albeit with a good question. "Doubt something like sending a goddamn Balefire Bomb preemptively would have gone over too well with those striped bastards."

"Well yeah, if they had sent it back with same fucking day delivery, but it took a couple days to break into their minds and force them to work against their masters. They barely had the Spectral Array ready to teleport the Bomb when the whole country was lit up with sirens so they decided to use the weapon to detonate the Bombs plummeting from portals in the atmosphere towards the city itself. Long story short, after the Great War, they dug into Salt Lick City and slowly made contact with all other surviving members of the Equestrian Armed Forces across the country that still had working radios. After that...they decided to reform what and who survived the EAF into the Order of the Steel Rangers with a bunch of titles, rules and shit that call back to medieval times. Fast forward a couple hundred years and there's Seven Chapters of the original Order in every major city of the East, with over a dozen smaller splinter factions scattered all around in between who have varyingly large territories they clawed out for themselves. Of course, I shouldn't forget to mention all these groups and splinter groups have varying ideologies that lead them into conflict with each other but ironically enough, they all have relatively similar goals in the end."

"Those being?" Inquired the irritatingly polite V.I.

Yet again a grumble of anger took over my voice and a sigh of annoyance hissed out as I took a second or so to reply. I found it hard not to get too aggressive towards it like I normally would towards a bucket of bolts, but I knew better than to act like a total dick over the radio. It was our greatest potential ally and besides, this was a history lesson it needed to learn right from the correct source. The extra patience would pay off.

"Technology. No two fucks about it, basically all fragments of the SR are obsessed with technology in one way or another and most tend to covet it violently. Some more than others but their reputation is to the point where 99% of people automatically assume anyone in Power Armor is one of them and out for blood. Doesn't matter which side of Canterlot you're on, if you're not affiliated with one of them you might as well be their enemy. They're not wrong to think that but it's kind of an oversimplification of how shit be with the Order and the rest of 'em. Some are actually not so bad, at least compared to the rest, but their numbers are so small or their group so secretive you'd never know they existed anyway."

"I see...so, ponies in Power Armor are overall the bad guys now? That is quite interesting..." It hummed softly after a moment of processing. "So...I would assume then that any of these aforementioned factions would be incredibly interested in this facility and me in particular then? Seems to be the most logical summation of what you have told me."

"Heh, you catch on pretty quick. They're the reason we're here to be honest.” Athena replied next, her tone then turning soft and somewhat pleading. “There's a Platoon-sized force of Steel Rangers en-route to this location as we speak with...what kinda Kampfwagens were they?"

"Falke IIs." I answered for her, the enemy threat still fresh in my memory. "Three of 'em. Barrel thickness and body characteristics indicate they're the earlier models with the 50mm cannon and additional frontal spaced armor. Couldn't quite tell if they had the side skirts for the tracks and turret that came standard on later iterations though. That kinda armor is just too thick for anything me or Firefly have that isn't a shaped-charge mine and Athena's AMR-25 is only going to do so much damage.”

I paused for a brief moment before addressing the mare directly, “You do have APs right? You didn't come after me with just dumb old HEs in that thing like a total dumbass, yes?"

"Oh fuck you very much...yeah, I totally didn't read your dossier thoroughly and didn't notice the bold print that says, 'Hey, this asshat wears Power Armor'...” Came her prickly, sarcastic response. “I mean, I brought armor piercers, but only like 15-rounds worth of anything remotely useful against a fucking tank. I've got ten HEAA rounds and five discarding sabots. Wait, four because I missed that first shot... What a waste of a good tungsten dart."

Brushing off the fact that dart was meant for me, I continued, "Eh, 25mm of a shaped copper charge might be enough to punch through Power Armor, but I doubt it'll do much good against a Falke II. That leaves us with four goddamn shots worth a damn against three tanks...fuckin' great."

"Not sure if I am permitted to interject here but I've got enough firepower to spare for all of us..." It said quietly in the pause that followed my dejected statement. "The Dual-Purpose rounds currently selected for the chin cannon alone are more than enough to punch through their lightly armored topsides. Considering I have a distinct height advantage...well, you couldn't ask for a better battlefield companion, Sir."

"Is that you offering to help...?" Athena stepped up to ask before I could bring the words to my mouth.

"Yes Ma'am, that it is." It responded with glee, a bright spot in our brief relationship that warmed me up a bit to her. "Give me a chance to line them up and I can wipe the floor with their insides!"

"Damn, I like the shit coming outta this girl's mouth! Hungry for some action?"

"With all due respect Sir, I was built for a War I never got the opportunity to have a part in. I'm dying for the chance to make my existence mean something again. You are both recognized officers in my records and I've already confirmed Colonel Crete's identity via the biometric sensors in your PipBuck. As far as I see it, you are the only ones alive with the true authority to command me and the resources of this facility. Bring me targets and I'll bring you results. Just as it should have been, had things turned out differently."

For once I was talking to a robot that actually had some personality to it. It wasn't like I hadn't worked with and alongside them before as the Order adored its expensive fleet of droids and bots, using them any chance they could. In fact, one of the breakaway factions of the Order during the Schism itself literally worshiped technology as some sort of divine being. The major problem all those bots had was being programmed by a xenophobic, upstart military nobility that valued Steel Ranger blood above all others. This Vertibird however, she had a…weirdly whimsical vibe to her. Like a military secretary fresh out of high school full of questions but ready to make heads roll. I…could work with that.

"Terrific! How soon can you depart?" I asked with more excitement than I expected, turning away from my PipBuck to call out to Firefly, "Hey! Glowstick! Forget the inventory and get your ass back to the elevator, we've got more Tin Heads to kill! Real ones this time!"

"Tin Heads? Ah...a euphemism and insult to these wayward Steel Rangers I take it?"

"Yes, but it actually is a phrase as old as you are.” Athena informed her briefly. “It's what members of my Corps called members of his back in the day."

"Yeah, and we called you guys fuckin' NadPads back then too." I laughed with a grin while flashes of the past flickered past my inner eye. "Gods the memories...anyways, mind answering the question? When can we be prepped and ready for take off?"

"My apologies, Sir. I still have to perform a full system's check but I estimate easily within the hour. I am aware we are under certain time constraints so I must ask for an estimation as to the time of their arrival."

"Well...been outta range of the GIMP satellite for a little over an hour, so that's two sweeps we missed out on. Lemme pull up the one from just before we went underground and jog my memory a bit."

With a flick of my thumb, I changed tabs on my PipBuck and brought up my maps in search of the last point of reference we had. My body was on autopilot while my mind was…wandering. I couldn't get her out of my goddamn head, and I didn't mean the V.I. Her mind was sharp and asked relatively decent and (usually) intelligent questions which was such a welcome change of pace from many mares I’d known in recent years. The Order valued knowledge and attempted to push a rather advanced level of general education to all members, but…the weakest minds usually ended up as Knights rather than Scribes. Not her though…despite how thoroughly she managed to get under my skin, she was old school trained. This was a mare with a brain sat firmly between her shoulders. Part of me, the deranged and absolutely insane part, even wondered how my parents would take to her, granted they were still alive after all this time…

"Uhhh, let's see." I began again once my wandering thoughts focused enough on the map to respond. "Based off what I can see here, and making an educated guess given the speed they were going, I'd say we've got maybe thirty minutes, forty at best. My data is outdated but I'm feelin' pretty confident in my numbers here. They hauled some serious ass to get down here, sweet fuck..."

"Indeed so..." The V.I replied, her voice petering out as if in thought before she said more firmly, "Very well, I can omit certain system's checks and focus solely on those needed for this engagement. If any of you will be needing the restroom, best to use one in this complex as that and the kitchen will be sealed off until I have time to ensure all is functional upon our return. Two-hundred years sitting idle is not exactly ideal for any piece of technology no matter how advanced it may be. Anything could have gone amiss during that period."

"ETC?" I asked plainly, wanting to get to the real numbers that I could work with.

"Ten minutes, twenty-seven seconds if done at peak efficiency." She replied immediately. "I will need your help Colonel, if you would be so kind as to lend your assistance with this procedure."

"Oh…? I mean...I remember some of my pilot training but really they're more just...hazy memories of the experience rather than the actual training itself, heh..."

"Oh, that is not a matter for concern in this scenario. I can fly and operate this craft by myself under the proper circumstances but I will need assistance when it comes to certain pre-flight checks. Visual confirmation of the ship itself is one thing I cannot do unfortunately and there are many parts of this craft that will need a visual inspection to ensure two centuries of idleness have not fouled anything up. There are some tasks that are just best left to Organics and this is unfortunately one of them, Ma'am."

"Heh, Organics eh? Alright, I can work with that terminology. What do you need me to do?"

At this point, the conversation had no more use for me being a part of it so I found the best time to butt in was now. After all, Firefly was sure to have more barbs to throw at me once we were done and I hated to keep his ass waiting.

"Hey, let her know but at least lemme leave the chat first. We're a few floors and shit below you so it'll be fifteen or so until we're back up there anyway. Garand, out."

Even as I shut the radio line off as we wouldn't be needing it any longer, I could feel the burrowing gaze of bemused judgement boring its way into the side of my head from the glowing jackass I was forced to put up with.

"Look at yew! Yappin' away tah her n' tellin' old stories...ain't tha' quaint heh, heh." He grinned evilly once I finally turned to face his smug ass.

"You know as well as I do that I was giving that V.I lady some much-needed history context for the shit that's happened to the Steel Ranger Corps since the Great War went down. Hell, the bitch even had the gall to give me permission to even speak. You heard that shit, right??"

"Whoa there! Don' be slingin' tha' word about ah stellar gal like Athena, not after she went n' spared yer life n' all tha'." He snapped back with a genuine spark of anger in his eyes. "Ah know wha' yew were fuckin' doin' numbnuts, Ah was just yankin' yer tail... Give meh tha' sorta shite, don' send it her way when she ain't deservin'. Just 'cause yew can't keep it in yer sheath don' mean-"

"Shut the fuck up...please... Let's just...go."

"Heh...fine, big feller. Though one last thing...why'd yew tell her it'd take us so long tah get back up there? Lift ain't far from here n' it's ah straight shot up tah where she is."

"I said that for your sake really. Give ya some time to finish your premature attempts at a full inventory."

"Ah...dunno if yer bein' sincere 'er just bein' ah ass right back at meh..."

"It takes one to know one!"

***✪***