Fallout Equestria: A Light Shining in Darkness

by Redoctober1995

Chapters

Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Two
“I’m sure it’ll be useful later.”

Nothingness!

My first seconds on the Surface were an eternity of heart-breaking terror! It was an endless void! It surrounded me, suffocating me in a blanket of blackness! If I could’ve drawn breath I would’ve screamed.

But little by little my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and my heart calmed down, my gasping lessening enough for me to breath properly, for me to feel rather foolish, for some reason my flashlight had flicked off.

Though in my defense I’d never seen true night before, not truly. Sure I’d turn off the lights to my room when I went to bed, but that darkness was isolated, just in my bedroom, even if the lights in the Stable went out, there were still the emergency glow strips on the floor and walls that could guide ponies to safety till the lights could be brought back.

This was very different. There was a bitter coldness in the air, it sank into my coat through my suit and bore smells so very alien to my nostrils, cold and damp and dusty. The sounds of small insects and the creaking of old wood carried on the wind, but what really stuck out to me were the sounds I couldn’t hear… the constant low rumbling of the Stable’s generator and the high pitched whine of the lights were gone, they’d been so constant, so overwhelming that I’d mistaken the Surface has silent in their absence.

I felt cold damp earth under my hooves. Though I couldn’t see very much in the darkness, I could see much further than I’d ever been able before, there were no walls to block my view. I stared into a nearly endless horizontal abyss that stretched out in front of me. I flicked my flashlight on and looked around.

Only for a whole new panic broke my brain and my legs gave out from under me, the beam of my light showed me an endless abyss of black and gray clouds as far as my eyes could see swirling and almost writhing like a slumbering eldritch beast so horrific it felt like my stomach was trying to claw itself out through my throat.

I clenched my eyes tightly and threw myself in the cold damp earth to keep what little of my dinner left down. After a long time the uneasiness passed and I finally felt reasonably well enough to get my hooves under me and look around.

I was in a very small courtyard with two crumbling buildings, the one I just came from was built into the side of a very steep mountain range and half of the other building had collapsed under the weight of large boulders. A rusty sign hung on the wall,

Bunny Den Mine
Property of Northern Equestrian Mining Services
An Orion Solutions Inc Company

There was that company again. I heard a ping from my PipBuck, looking down at it I saw the device was flashing with a large host of alerts. The map marker was churning up information and had already pulled up labels from the ether for my location: Stable Fifty-Two and the mountain range as the Applelachian Mountains.

There were also a small number of radio signals coming in, though Stable Fifty-Two’s had gone dark. My heart leapt slightly at that, if there were radios in this world then ponies had to be out there to maintain them, right? I couldn’t imagine Radmoles sitting at little terminals doing it. No that was silly. I tapped the first station on the list, hoping for something to prove that there’s pony life out there, only to be greeted by a series of clicks sounded through the speaker before I turned it off.

In the silence I noticed the very faint ticking coming from the radiation detector, a small feature of my PipBuck that I’d never really looked at, the little rainbow dial was ever so slightly edging from the green safe section towards the yellow warning section.

I looked out to the distant horizon line and noticed that the shades of gray were slowly starting to lighten in the past few minutes alone.

Perhaps Celestia still raised the sun?

I thought about what I was going to do, I couldn’t go back to Stable Fifty-Two and I couldn’t just stay here for the rest of my life, but I didn’t exactly fancy my chances of finding Mom by plotting off in a random direction. Especially since she had almost three days of a head start. And I wasn’t getting anywhere by just sitting here.

I plotted over to the collapsed building, maybe there was a map or supplies I could take, I pushed open the rusty hanging door and shined my light inside, the air was full of dust mottes and the walls were crumbling but looked strong enough to hold up so I stepped cautiously inside.

The first room was large with a number of rows of bunk beds with rotting old mattresses and footlockers at their feet. I walked through the rows looting the containers of their contents, save for a couple of clipboards, moldy cigarette cartons and a pristine coffee cup, most were empty, I did find a pornographic magazine titled Wingboner under a bed though, might be worth something. The second room was for storage, most of its contents were moldy or deteriorated well beyond use, but I did find a few rusty 45 Auto pistols and a couple boxes of bullets, thirty in all, a valuable find and a length of rope.

Putting them into my saddle bag, I left the building and stopped by the rusty fence and looked out at the swamps spreading out below me. There could possibly be pony life out there, but there could also probably be more mutants too.
It didn’t matter, I had to find Mom.

I pulled out my canteen and an apple and took a moment to eat and drink
summoned my strength and took my first steps down the dirt road.

*** *** ***

Daylight.

By the time I reached the tree line the sun had crested the horizon filling the world with a brilliant pink-golden light before rising above the clouds and now was probably close to halfway through the sky filling the land around me with a dull sickly gray light, at least it was warming up slightly.

The trees (and I use that word very loosely) looked nothing like the trees from the picture books in Stable Fifty-Two’s School. These trees were blackened, knurled and twisting at odd angles with stilt-like roots holding them above the sickly green brown murky water on either side of the crumbling road. The millions of leaves blocked out much of the sunlight creating a heavy canopy of shadows and the air itself was damp and cold and reeked of decay.

I glanced down at my PipBuck, hoping to find a way around, but of course there wasn’t… I mean, there was, but it would’ve taken me many days, possibly over a week of walking and involved crossing a wide looking river that might have been flooded.

And I needed to find Mom as quickly as possible.

I took a swig from my canteen, taking a deepish breath and coughing on the foul smelling air for several moments.

“Well,” I muttered quietly, looking into the swamp, “Here goes nothing.”

*** *** ***

It was probably nearing midnight when I stopped to look for a place to rest and honestly my body would probably be screeching at me if I weren’t so damn tired. The swamp was even worse than I’d originally thought, the dampness was soaking through my suit and into my coat down to my hide, the air was almost stifling and was hard to breath at first, but gradually got easier and small flies kept biting at me leaving small welts and being just incredibly annoying.

Despite the discomforts I was facing, the swamp was actually kind of interesting. I’d spotted dozens of different mutated animals wandering around, small birds with squat beaks and multicolored feathers sitting in the branches above me, a couple of what looked like possums with multiple legs and three tails scurrying around in the underbrush and a frog the size of my head with six red eyes.

I pulled out my canteen and an apple, taking a swig and eating the fruit to silence my grumbling stomach. Finishing dinner, I looked around the space for a safe place to sleep, taking note of a particular tree low enough to climb up but high enough to keep out of range of the mutated animals.

I carefully climbed up the branches, found a sturdy looking one that held my weight, I tied myself down with the rope and slowly drifted off to sleep.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Are you certain?” a young sounding feminine voice asked, a hint of possible desperation lacing it, “Surely we still have time to-”

“I’m quite certain, my Honey,” a masculine voice responded, somewhat stoney and aged, but with a hint of warmness, “Please don’t cry, I know you’ll be prepared.”

“But we can’t lose you”- the first voice sounded a little more desperate- “I can’t lose you.”

“I know, Sweetie,” the second voice answered, “But just as summer must give way to autumn and winter…”

“I know, I know…” the first voice muttered like a child being scorned, “So too must death give way to new life.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The world slowly slipped into my brain as I woke up, the coldness nearly froze me to my bones and my muscles were incredibly cramped. My eyes opened only to find a long mutated snake covered in thick fur instead of scales slithering over my chest, I very nearly had a heart attack.

Quickly thinking, my magic focused around my pistol and slowly pulled it out to not startle the creature. But the creature seemed to sense I was alive and it thankfully slithered off down the tree and into the underbrush. I released the breath I was holding in, I untied myself from the branch and carefully climbed down.

On the ground, I rubbed out the knots in my body and dug out my remaining apple and scarfed it down and pulled out my canteen to drink some of my water, only to get maybe half of a gulp at most.

Later on, I came across what looked like a pre war beaver, but it was nearly as big as me with thick green brown fur and large yellow tusks as big as my head jutting out from its mouth. The beaver was gnawing at a tree which collapsed over the road, the critter waddled up to a branch and dragged it off into the water.

My thirst and hunger were starting to get to me as I followed the same damn road for hours now, I thought I’d seen the same tree for the eighth time. Looking down at my PipBuck’s map hoping to get some level of directions… only to find that I’d barely covered any real amount of ground. I wiped the sweat soaking through my coat. I was getting very desperate and looking around for a place to sleep when I heard a rustling behind me, turning around something hard swung out and the world went black.

*** *** ***

There was a splitting pain in my head when I came too, I felt a hard crustiness on my brow trailing down my face to my jaw that must’ve been blood, a hard dampness soaking into my side and a heat source on my back.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked around, I was laying on my side on a small hill surrounded by watery marshland covered in tall grasses with sparse trees that I didn’t recognize and over my shoulder a thin trail of black smoke wafted up into the dark clouds high above me and the sounds of animals came from out in the distance. I shifted my hooves around, only to find they were caught on something, looking down I saw that my wrists and ankles were bound in old duct tape.

Suddenly a harsh sounding voice that spoke a thick strange sounding language came from behind me and I was sharply pulled over and I was muzzle to muzzle with the ugliest pony (if I could even call the mutant creature that) I had ever seen in my life.

He was probably an earth pony, much bigger than me and the entire right side of his head and face were covered in massive, swollen, crusty, almost certainly cancerous cysts and lumpy, glowing pink boils that ran down his neck and bulging shoulder to under his heavily patched flannel shirt and black leather jacket down his swollen foreleg to his clubbed forehoof, I noticed a pair of crossed revolvers stitched into his sleeve with orange thread. His filthy mane and coat were all mangey and it looked like he was infected with lice and hadn’t bathed in months, possibly years! Judging by the stench that was raping my nostrils. He glared down at me with a single beady sickly yellow eye and he gave me a stomach churning grin of sparse crooked teeth that were yellow and black with rot and rancid charred breath.

The mutated creature slurred his strange language over his shoulder to another equally ugly pony (again, if I could even call her that) seating on a log by a smoldering campfire. The mare was impossibly lanky with knobby legs and a pair of wings with molting feathers, her mane and tail were incredibly wispy and equally mangey. She wore a matching black leather jacket with a similar crossed orange revolvers over a ragged filth stained dress that looked several sizes too big on her impossibly malnourished frame and had what looked like an ancient lever action shotgun in her skinny, knobby forehooves with a couple cloth bandoliers with shotgun shells slung over her shoulders and I spotted my saddle bag beside her. The mare cackled something to the stallion as he stumbled back to another log across the fire, he picked up a double barrel shotgun and slurred something back, most of the words were unintelligible to me save for two, possibly a name, Red Eye.

As the two conversed I looked around the clearing and found that I wasn’t the only captive, there was a small pony a couple of feet away with their back to me and was probably sleeping, judging by their side moving up and down.

“Hey,” I whispered, they didn’t move or maybe they were just ignoring me, “Psst, hey?”

The pony still didn’t move, I glanced at my captures before shifting my body around enough to scoot myself a foot or so closer to them, focusing my magic as best as my hunger and thirst deprived brain would allow and tapped their shoulder, “Psst, hey, are you okay?”

The captive’s ears perked up and they shifted around their head slightly to look at me, it was then that I noticed a few things about them…

First, the captive was a filly and probably very young too, maybe Yarn’s age. Second, she had incredibly startling eyes, a dull brown at first, but then they visibly shifted before my eyes to an amber that almost glowed in the firelight. Third, along with her hooves, her muzzle was duct taped shut so she couldn’t speak, so she might not have been ignoring me before. Finally, she was a unicorn, but her mane, bloodied and bruised coat and tail were all filthy off white with dull gray, curling stripes…

She was a zebra… unicorn… thing…

Before my mind could think up a more considerate and tactful question such as, “Are you okay?” or “What are these monsters?”

My mouth instead screamed the least tactful question possible, “What the fuck are you?!”

The filly however must’ve been expecting the question because she rolled her eyes and rolled over and went back to ignoring me and thankfully our captures didn’t even acknowledge our existence.

After close to maybe an hour, a distant splashing came from the water and a very faint light cut through the grass and reeds and fog. A rusty boat came splashing up to a molding dock at the base of the hill and tied off before joining my captures. The five new ponies were just as hideously mutated, all had ratty patchwork clothing and similar archaic guns and they all seemed to know my captures because they greeted and laughed and passed around weird looking food and drinks. My belly grumbled loudly at the sickeningly sweet smell of the cooking food.

A sickly malnourished looking unicorn holding a 44 Magnum revolver in putrid blue magic glanced over at me and asked one of my captures something and their response made them grin a mouth of rotten teeth. A large bloated mare with a lever rifle chuckled something dreamily as she swayed her incredibly lumpy flanks around in what she must’ve thought was seductively, but all of her bloated fat rolls made me want to heave at the excessively repulsive monster. An equally bloated stallion with a caravan shotgun slurred something at the mare smacking her flanks, she giggled and pulled the stallion down the hill away from the campfire and soon there were loud pig squeals coming from their direction.

I tried, very unsuccessfully, to ignore the noise, thankfully after a few minutes they stopped.

The stallion who grabbed me earlier stood and the group got up and started to pack up camp, he stepped over to the filly and to my absolute horror, he started molesting her.

“The fuck is the matter with you?!” I shouted, straining against the duct tape, abruptly startling the stallion and getting the attention of the group, “Get the fuck away from her!”

The stallion grinned at me with those blackened teeth like I was insane, “What?” he suddenly slurred in a thickly accented and broken ponish as he continued groping the filly, “Is jus a zigga.”

The group broke out into mad cackles in their language, one threw a moldy wrinkled apple at me, at least I think it was an apple.

I stared at them in horrific disbelief, refusing to believe my ears. Was this world so impossibly damned and broken that this was seen and accepted as normal?

No! I refused to even think that, these weren’t ponies, these were monsters!

I whipped around looking for something, anything I could use when I spotted a somewhat large rock by the water. I desperately tried to focus my magic around the object, but it barely budged under the pathetic glowing.

“Luna dammit, Ozzy,” I bitterly spat at myself, my face turning red and sweaty from the strain.

The rock slowly trembled and partially lifted up an inch or so from the muck, it was considerably heavier than gun parts or an empty footlocker. My breath came in shallow gasps as my brain struggled through the foggy blackness creeping in on my vision to hold up the rock, the effort in my deprived state threatened to burn out my magic, then the filly and would be helpless to these monsters.

“GET FUCKING HELL AWAY FROM HER!” I roared, a fiery blaze flooding my mind and summoning the last bit of my strength, I threw the rock at the mutant, the momentum carried it through the air slamming into his shocked face.

CRACK!

In the near silence of the camp, the impact made a very loud wet cracking sound as the mutant crumpled back into the muddy grass twitching, his bloody face was crumpled inward like wet cardboard, his jaw hung open useless with his few remaining teeth scattered around.

A mutant shot up shrieking as she brandished her rifle at me. This was it then, I was about to die, I was gonna be murdered by these horrific mutants. I closed my eyes slightly when I suddenly spotted a series of ghostly shimmers in the distance.

PFFT!

Suddenly the side of the mutant’s head exploded, drenching her friends in dark sickly blood, her body fell back over the log.

The seconds stretched out into hours as the camp erupted into a frenzied cacophony of hellfire as the mutants shot up with their guns to fight the silent attackers, a mutant shouted out a single word before a string of explosions riddled his sunken gut spraying the fire with blood and sickly rotten innards before he fell into it, sending up a shower of chard wood and burning embers into the air. A skinny mutant’s legs were shot out from under her with a third explosion ripping off her lumpy head. A pair of mutants’ chests exploded causing them to topple over each other.

When the smoke cleared enough, there was only one mutant left, the skinny unicorn holding the 44 Magnum. His legs shook under him, he quickly grabbed the filly by the back of her neck, yanking her up roughly and pulling her back to the fire.

“GET OFF OF HER!” I felt myself shout, but the mutant paid me no attention.

He started molesting the filly’s body, bending her over a log and pulling out his lumpy cyst covered cock. He was going to rape her!

“Ya ziggas wan’ her back?!” he shouted at the attackers in broken ponish, rubbing his cock against her crotch, “Ya fuckers can have her when Ah’m finished!”

There was a long stretch of silence before a long scratchy beam of haunting blue light sliced the cold air with a thunderous pop striking the stallion’s face.

BZZT!

He crumpled back, his body disintegrating into a pile of ash before he hit the dirt. The filly slowly got up and sat on the log.

My hearing slowly returned to me as the campsite fell into complete silence, not even the animals could be heard. My suit was drenched in wetness. From where? I'll let you imagine.

“Hey?” I called to the filly, “Can you help me?”

But she ignored me, I looked around for anything sharp to cut the bonds with when suddenly the shimmering lights returned and four ponies materialized from the cold air around the camp. Each one wore a strange plastic hooded cloak over suits of dark green armor, the one behind the filly had a weird looking assault rifle of some kind at his side and held a long curved knife in his scarred muzzle.

“Get away from her!” I shouted, the pony cut the bindings from the filly, he sheathed his blade under his cloak and pulled down his hood revealing that he was a zebra. He kneeled down and hugged the filly tightly.

“I’m sorry, Prysm,” he quietly whispered in an almost loving way.

“It’s not your fault, Umeme,” she whispered back, she glanced around at the other ponies, “Thank you all.”

The ponies pulled down their hoods revealing that each one of them were zebra, three stallions and one mare, one wearing a large brimmed dark leather hat and holding a strange looking magical energy rifle with a glass chamber glanced at me.

“What about the Stable Dweller?” he asked in heavily accented ponish, “Think he’s related to that other one?”

“Other… one?” I asked.

The filly let go of her savior and plotted up to me cautiously, her small horn faintly glowed with a rainbow kaleidoscope of colors. My body suddenly felt tired, all of the aches and pains dissolving, but this didn’t feel natural like falling asleep, she was using an anesthesia spell to knock me out!

“Hush now, quiet now,” she sang softly, magic glowing brighter and brighter filling my vision, “It’s time to lay your sleepy head.”

I struggled to keep my eyes open, to fight back, but without my magic I quickly succumbed. The last thing I heard was the filly as she sang softly.

“Hush now, quiet now, It’s time to go to bed.”

Level Up: New Perk: Horse Sense: You gain additional 10% more whenever experience points are gained.

Chapter Three

Chapter Three
“We all make choices…”

Alive!

I was alive.

Well… when I say alive, I mean that my brain felt like it had been squeezed through a meat mincer, every muscle and bone in my body was screaming out in blistering agony, and my throat was so impossibly dry that it felt like my tongue was a hunk of dried leather.

But… I was still alive.

The first thing I noticed when I slowly started to come too, aside from the pain, were the faintest sounds of a crowd on the edge of my hearing before growing slightly louder and louder. The second thing was the smell of something sweet drifting in on a cold breeze ticked my nostrils, almost reminding me of Grandpa’s apple pies. The third thing was the very warm blanket I was laying under, it felt rough and scratchy, but to my tired body it felt heavenly.

My eyes opened slightly and glanced around, I was in some kind of hut/tent made of quilted, canvas-like fabrics with a couple of bedrolls and a few crates in the corners, a wooden mask of a strange looking, multicolored bird beak rested on a folding table next to a stack of old books. Thin plastic surgical tubing ran down from a hung up iv bag full of a thick milky fluid to a needle jabbed in my neck above my collarbone.

I turned to my left and was greeted by a strange looking assault rifle’s muzzle pointed at my head.

Looking past the weapon I noticed a zebra stallion wearing a dark green military uniform with a rampant zebra outlined by a golden sun on a dull crimson armband pinned around his left shoulder. He held the rifle in his hooves as he sat up in a defensive stance, his cold gray eyes glaring down at me.

Glancing back down at the rifle again, I didn’t recognize it’s model but I knew it definitely wasn’t made by Ironshod, judging by the bore diameter I guessed it was probably thirty caliber, maybe 7.62mm.

“Uhh… hello?” I horsely greeted him cautiously, the stallion just glared at me, “Do you understand me?”

He didn’t speak, but did nod slightly. Well… that was good at least, “Am I your prisoner?” again he didn’t speak, but he also didn’t move in a way that indicated that I was, “What’s your name?”

“Shut up, Stable Dweller,” he barked at me, in perfect Ponish without a hint of an accent at all, “The General will decide your fate when he returns.”

“Who’s the General?” I asked carefully, I got him talking this much at least, “Do you mean the war is still ongoing?”

“Ongoing?” the stallion asked, lowering his rifle slightly, “The war ended months ago.”

“Wait, months?” My ears shot up, how could that be possible? I leaned up on my elbows, “I thought it was two hundred years, the Stable’s mainframe said so.”

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, a little more confused and lowering his rifle more, “The Old Guard drove the Enclave out of the Bay several mo-”

“That’s quite enough, Tahka,” a feminine sounding voice sternly interrupted, filling the whole room.

My head whipped around and I saw quite possibly one of the most beautiful mares I’d ever seen, pony or zebra, standing in the doorway of the hut. I felt my heartbeat pick up a tempo or two.

She stepped up to the stallion and pushed him to the door, “I asked you to watch my patient, not hold a social gathering, get out of my home.”

“But, Saluem, it wasn’t my fault,” the stallion protested, glaring back at me, “He got up and-”

“OUT!” the mare shouted firmly, slamming the door in his face, she whipped around and offered me a very warm polite smile, “I apologize if Tahka acted… unprofessionally.”

“Uhh…” Was all I could say as I stared at her transfixed.

Despite probably being older than me, she was very lovely, her long mane was done up in alternating white and black dreadlocks with a few silver and gold rings that were pulled over her left shoulder, her earlobe had three rings in it, two gold and one silver, and her coat looked very exotic with it’s curling black stripes with a couple of circular pendants that looked to be made of colored bottle glass on necklaces, and a carved wood bangle on her left forehoof.

She wore a similar dark green uniform as the stallion, but she had a white armband on her right shoulder with a pink butterfly over a red cross, like Medical back in Stable Fifty-Two and finally a short barreled revolver with a crisp shiny black finish and red amber grips strapped into a black leather holster on her hip.

“Welcome to the Castrum, you may call me Saluem,” she cheerfully spoke the words with such grace, I felt my heartbeat pick up that little bit faster, she extended a hoof to me, “What’s your name?”

“O-Ozzy,” I stammered a little, shaking her hoof, why was I getting so damn nervous?

“Ozzy,” she murmured as she dug through her saddle bag with a matching butterfly and cross and pulled out a compact silver colored metal cylinder, a thermos and handed it to me, “Is it short for anything?”

“O-Ozymandias,” I admitted after a moment, I always felt a little self conscious about how weird it sounded and everybody back home just called me Ozzy anyways.

“Ozymandias…” Saluem mused, almost tasting my name, “I like it, sounds exotic.”

I grinned slightly, surely a name like Saluem was a little better than mine, I opened the very warm thermos and saw a peach colored creamy liquid inside that smelled of something sweet. I gave it an experimental lick and the pain in my tongue eased slightly.

“Healing potion,” Saluem confirmed my suspicions, she was leaning into a chest across the room giving me a good look at her trouser covered rear end, “Brewed up just this morning, Celia mixed in some honey from a Honey beast Queen the scouts found.”

We had healing potions back home, but they tasted like… coldness, having no real flavor. Don’t need any to do a job, right? This drink however, how did I ever stand them before this moment? The delicious tartness of the fruit spiked the honey as it dripped down my throat lessening the roughness. It pulled a comforting warmth into my chest that spread across my limbs loosening my stiff muscles and tired bones.

Saluem pulled out a mortar and pestle and started working on some strange looking herbs and a very strange looking fruit together with clean water. The fruit was a lumpy ball a little bigger than my hoof with a light sickly green yellow skin that was reasonably soft to my touch.

“Never seen a punga fruit before?” Saluem asked, holding out a hoof for the fruit, I shook my head, giving the fruit back, “Doesn’t surprise me, far as I know you can only find them here. They’re very nutritious and chalked full of vitamins, but they can be addictive if you don’t cook them right.”

I finished the potion and wiped off the excess on the back of my hoof. We sat in as the zebra mare added other roots and herbs turning the paste into a viscous ointment that she spread over a couple rolls of cloth bandages. She carefully placed them aside and reached down to pull the blanket from over me and that’s when I noticed I was naked. I quickly covered myself and earned a chuckle from the zebra mare.

“Goodness,” Saluem chuckled into her hoof, “It’s good to see someone so old can still be embarrassed about their body.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” I squeaked out, blushing profusely, and keeping my crotch covered, “Where’s my suit? And my saddle bag and pistol?”

“Safe,” Saluem calmly reassured me, “You had quite an experience the other day, you were shot… twice, suffered a minor concussion, moderate dehydration, and Arhem’s still patching up your suit and gear.”

I cocked my brow, “I don’t remember… getting shot.”

Saluem brought over a small mirror and handed it to me, in the cracked glass I saw the bandages wrapped around my forehead with my horn peeking out, looking down I saw the ones wrapped tightly around my arm and chest.

“Sometimes the brain doesn’t quite react to being injured if you’re in danger,” Saluem explained, readying the bandages, “In any case, one of the bullets just lightly grazed you and the second didn’t fragment and was easy enough to remove, they didn’t hit anything vital and the healing bandages seem to be working nicely, of course your PipBuck made it much easier to access the damage.”

We sat in silence as she carefully removed the needle from my neck and unwrapped the used bandages, I saw that they had dried blood on the inside, she placed them in a bag and dabbed a wet washcloth against the wounds on my chest preparing to wrap them with the fresh bandages.

“I might be able to help a bit,” I interjected, focusing my magic on my chest, its pink light warmed my hide around the wound, sealing up the remaining openings turning them into fresh scabs.

“You’re a healer?” Saluem asked, slightly astonished.

“My Mom was a doctor back home, she taught me some basic stuff so I’d be able to work with her and my Grandma, but that didn’t work out.”

“Sorry, my granduncle taught me almost everything I know, myself,” she said, “You might need at least another couple of days to rest,” Saluem said, wrapping the bandages on my chest just for a safety measure, putting the bag in her saddle bag, “Don’t worry, you’re considerably safer here than you would be out in the Hayseed Swamp alone.”

“Hayseed Swamp?”

“H-hey, I appreciate your help, but I’m kind of on a slightly tight schedule.”

“Whatever it is, it will have to wait, it won’t do you any good if you die, for right now just get some more rest,” she left without a further word.

I leaned back in my bed and thought about the slight torrent of events that just happened.

Zebras.

They’d slaughtered us by the millions and bathed our homeland in poisonous balefire radiation. Back in Stable Fifty-Two, they’d always been portrayed as Equestria’s enemies, the demonic, soulless, and villainous antithesis of ponykind.

I had never really paid it too much attention, it was just pre war propaganda after all. Was it really fair to paint Saluem by the sins of her ancestors from over two hundred years ago?

At least they’d let me stay here… for now.

*** *** ***

When my eyes opened again it was probably midday, with dull sickly green light casting from the doorway, and filling the small room. Saluem wasn’t around, but the zebra/unicorn filly from the other day was sitting beside my bed flicking through my PipBuck. She looked much better compared to the last time, her mane, coat and tail were cleaned and she had bandages covering her wounds under the smaller dark green uniform jacket she wore.

“What do you think you are doing?” I snapped, pulling my foreleg back.

“Auntie asked me to watch you while she got food,” she muttered, “I thought your puppy-thing had some music on it.”

“Firstly kid, it’s called a PipBuck,” I corrected the filly, who rolled her now magenta eyes, “Secondly, you gotta ask permission first.”

“YoU goTTa aSk PerMiSsIoN FirSt,” she sarcastically immated, rolling her eyes again blowing a raspberry, “My name ain’t kid, it’s Prysm.”

I glared at the filly before glancing down at my PipBuck’s radio, I noticed a new signal that I hadn’t seen before, flicking it on my radio sparked to life filling the small room with a stallion’s voice.

““Friends, ponies, rejoice! Although the world about you is bleak, scarred and poisoned by the war of honorless, thoughtless, inferior ponies of the past, we do not have to live in the shadow of their greed and wickedness. Together, we can raise Equestria back to its former beauty! Together, we can build a new kingdom where all live together in perfect unity! It’s already happening, my good ponies. Already, the foundation for a new and wonderful age is being built. Yes, it’s hard work, but don’t we owe it to ourselves and to the future generations of ponies, to be better? No, to be the best we can possibly be? I’m telling you now, as your friend, as your leader, that we can. We must. And we will!”

“What in Celestia’s name?” I muttered to myself, the voice oozed with the greasy charisma of a cult leader and reminded me far too much of the Overstallion.

The voice vanished and a high prancing tuba and flute duet started up, I flicked off my radio and just stared at it.

“You don’t know about Red Eye?” Prysm asked, her eyes turning a bright yellow in alarm slightly startled, “Missionaries from down south claim he’s been sent from your Goddesses to rebuild the world, but Papa says he’s just some high society, stable prancing, colt fucker.”

Shit, “Do your parents know you speak like that?” I asked crossly, checking my PipBuck.

There was a long stretch of silence as the filly looked down at her hooves, her eyes shifting to a more somber dark gray blue before quietly murmuring, “Mama’s gone, I don’t know where Papa is.”

“Sorry,” I apologized, rubbing the back of my neck embarrassed again, I’m kind of bad with children, “My Mom vanished out here and I didn’t know my Dad.”

“Didn’t care much about you, huh?”

And all of the embarrassment I felt vanished at the audacity of this little shit.

“No… Mom just never told me,” it wasn’t something I enjoyed talking about, after a very long silence I pointed at my PipBuck and asked, “Is he your leader?”

“What, Red Eye?” The filly glanced up at me, her eyes shifting into more of a bright orange, she chuckled before rolling over laughing loudly, “Hell no, the Caesar watches over us and he’ll guide us back to-”

“That’s quite enough, Prysm,” Saluem interrupted, entering the hut with a bowl of something steaming in her teeth, “I told you to leave him to his rest and not disturb him.”

“But, Auntie!” Prysm protested, but Saluem ushered her out, telling her to go play with her friends.

“I’m sorry about her,” she put down the bowl and offered an apology.

“It’s ok,” I reassured her, “Honestly I’m more glad that she’s better now… after those mutants.”

“Swampfolk,” Saluem corrected, sitting down beside me, passing the bowl, “Specifically the Chips.”

“Okay? So not mutants then?”

“No, they are mutated by contaminations, some families down south apparently can’t outbreed with ponies or zebras, so perhaps they could be considered a subspecies if not a new one.”

Holy Shit! “How many are there?” I asked, giving the weird looking soup an experimental lick, it tasted like carrots, potatoes and corn.

“We don’t really know for certain, but we’ve speculated that there must be a bare minimum of tens of thousands if not a couple hundred thousand grouped together in families scattered all over the Swamp.”

“We’re in the Rive nan No Region, around here there are two main factions, us, the Legion of Outcasts and the Foalbanks. The Foalbanks are a collection of a few families loosely working together, namely the Chips, the Knifes, the Packers, the Ballery, and the Lyres and own a massive swaf of land mostly centered around the town of Dela Crow a couple of days to the south.”

“We have claimed nearly half of their land in the past decades or so, the Onions, the Chukk-chukks, the Kattayls and the Beavers all used to be a part of or subjected by the Foalbanks before we took them under us.”

“The McZaphords claim the Fourleaf Whiskey Brewery, and the Clovercoats claim the Lucky Joi Fisheries in Port Aedstuath, and the Black Isles are controlled by the Black Clans and led by Clan Black Apples a few days to the northeast just outside of Baltimare, selling clean food and water for massive swafs of the Wastelands, as far south as New Roam in fact.”

“Baltimare?” I asked, finishing the soup, “What’s that?”

“You haven’t heard of Baltimare?” she asked incredulously, taking the bowl from me, I shook my head, “Well… the Horseshoe Bay Union, or just Baltimare, is one of the safest nations that have risen in the post-war world. Their population is massive, over several hundred thousand.”

I had to think about that for a while. Apparently Stable Fifty-Two had over a thousand ponies in it at one point, what did several hundred times that look like? How did you organize that many?

We sat in silence for a long time before I asked, “Hey, Saluem, do you believe in anything?”

She glanced at me looking for an elaboration, “Well, you mentioned something about Spirits and Prysm mentioned a figure called The Caesar, and you don’t seem to worship the Goddesses, so what do you believe?”

The zebra mare stared at me for a very long moment before starting to snicker before laughing rather loudly for a few moments before answering, “Sorry, I just didn’t expect you to ask about something so… well, childish.”

I stared at her a little puzzled.

“The Caesar is little more than a story told by mothers to their young children so they behave, you know, ‘Eat all your vegetables, or the Caesar will forbid you from entering Elysium.”

“What’s Elysium then?” I asked even more confused, “Is it your heaven?”

“No, well… kind of,” Saluem straightened her uniform before continuing, “Elysium, also called the Summerlands, was our ancestral home hundreds if not almost two thousand years ago when the earth was young and long before your Goddesses were born.”

“Wow,” I whispered, amazed.
“We had to leave because the earth became hungry, and the water refused to flow, the thirteen tribes fought brutally for the remaining resources until they were banded together by the First Caesar. History has long since forgotten his name, or perhaps there were many Caesars over many lifetimes, but he led us away from Elysium.”

“The tribes traveled across the world for decades in search of a new homeland, the Atoli tribe sailed across the seas discovering the dragons of the Dragonlands, the griffons of Griffonstone, and the chaotic broken lands of Abyssinia before reaching the lands south and east of Equestria, our adoptive homeland.”

“But when the Discord happened roughly twelve hundred years ago and our new home was split apart, the First Caesar died or perhaps in his perceived failure he returned to Elysium, pure hogwash.”

“Ok,” I mumbled, thinking about the large amount of information, “If you don’t believe in the Goddesses, and you think that The Caesar is just a story, then what’re the Spirits?”

She was about to explain when suddenly the door flap was pulled aside and two zebra stallions stepped in.

The bigger one stayed looming in the doorway, he was probably even bigger than Officer Crosshairs, with wide shoulders and massive healed burns that started at the right side of his nose, traveled over his muzzle where his teeth were exposed through the melted flesh, over his right cheek and reached down his muscular neck to under his uniform’s collar. Dressed in the dark green uniform with the rampant zebra armband, but also having a second armband like Saluem, this one had a golden pony/zebra skull with a green laurel on a field of deep purple. He looked down at me dismissively with teal eyes.

The smaller one was probably closer to my age, and far far more handsome. Dressed in the dark green uniform with the same rampant zebra armband, but he had gold wreaths on his collar tabs. His face and coat were littered in small scars that only added to his… I know it’s a little sappy, but his ruggedness.

“Auntie,” the smaller one addressed my healer, “Did you get my message?”

“Yes, Umeme,” Saluem answered, getting up, “It’s quite ill advisable, assuming that you’d even survive the journey.”

The stallion, Umeme, glanced down at me with a pair of sharp light green eyes and my heart picked up even faster, “You tried to save my little cousin” -he leaned down and bowed to me- “thank you.”

“Uhh… You’re welcome,” I stammered, “It’s really nothing though.”

“No, truly, you killed Bitterchip, the Foal Fucker of the Chips,” he interjected, leaning down closer to me, my heart thundered in my chest, “So tell me, Stable Dweller, why did you try to save Prysm?”

I glanced to Saluem for help, but she was looking away, I gulped, looking back into Umeme’s handsome eyes, “Honestly… how could I just lay there and allow that sick fat fuck to do… that to… well anybody? Pony or zebra? What kind of sick world would allow that?”

Umeme stared down at me in contemplative silence for a long time, considering my words before he asked, “How able are you with firearms?”

“Umeme, no,” Saluem suddenly sternly raised her voice against her nephew, shooting up, “You’re not dragging my patient into Lucius’ crusade.”

“Auntie,” Umeme replied, very straightforwardly, “He seems to have his mind in the right, perhaps he can-”

“OUT!” Saluem shouted, pushing the stallion to the door.

“Alright, alright,” Umeme said, turning to his friend, “C’mon, Q’osk.”

*** *** ***

I stayed at the Castrum for another two days. My wounds had healed completely, leaving two small pink spots in my hide, but Saluem was a little hesitant in letting me leave her hut, but I managed to convince her stating that she could accompany me if she was so worried.

She handed me a black shirt and a dark green uniform jacket to wear to get my gear back from the Armorer, I pulled the apparel on and the zebra healer held the door flap open for me and I stepped out into the zebra town.

The Castrum was set up into four sections, the Core, the Inner Rim, the Mid Rim and finally the Outskirts. The Core was where the Outcasts lived, set up as a large flat square and divided into four more squares of the hundreds of similar huts and tents by the four main roads running along the directions of north to south and east to west with a large three story blue farmhouse in the center, a large flag with a rampant zebra outlined by a golden sun on a field of crimson fabric fluttering in the wind was tied to a long pole just beside the stairs leading up to a pouch and the front door where a couple of guards wearing dark green combat armor stood watch with crazy looking curved swords and magical energy lances on battle saddles. Saluem elaborated it was where the General lived and organized the over five thousand zebras and ponies stationed here and the other nearly ten thousand stationed between the two other Outcasts headquarters, the Bastille and the Palatine.

The Inner Rim was farmland with dozens of half cylindrical buildings called greenhouses and small gardens of corn, wheat, carrots, potatoes, and other crops were in a state of harvesting and being stored in the wooden barns by the non fighting Outcasts zebras and even a few dozen ponies. A large number of young colts and fillies were lined up at a small training range learning basic fighting techniques and other such training. The Core and the Inner Rim were bordered by fifteen foot high walls made of concrete and reinforced with steel beams, a number of emplaced turrets were spotted around the top at key points and each was decorated by the rotting severed heads of Swampfolk on spears.

As Saluem showed me around the town, I glanced around and noticed a number of the zebras and ponies were staring at me. Probably close to a hundred showed recovery from some level of injury and were being helped by other healers like Saluem.

“Is that the Stable Dweller, Mama?” a little zebra colt with a green coat asked a zebra mare.

“Hush,” she scolded, “Don’t point, Carino.”

We stopped at the Castrum’s Armory, a collection of large tents by the farmhouse, inside were a number of shelves covered in cardboard boxes lined up behind a few old card tables. A side door opened and an elderly zebra stallion wearing a cleaned black suit with a red tie, a pair of thick rimmed reading glasses hung by a small silver chain on his neck. He picked up a clipboard and pulled out a pen in his mouth.

“Name?” he asked in a rather refined tone.

“Ozzy,” I answered, he glanced up at me, expecting more.

“He saved Prysm, Arhem,” Saluem interjected, “Give him back his things.”

The stallion jutted down something before turning and re-entering the side door again, behind it I spotted a few dozen zebras and ponies laboring at old looking loud sewing machines powered by pedals in the side tent.

“This won’t take too long,” Saluem reassured me, “Arhem is a bit uppity, but his workers do good work.”

Arhem returned with a box and the clipboard and set them on the tables, picking up the clipboard he read off the items as he pulled them out.

“One Stable jumpsuit, two bullet holes, patched.”

I picked up my suit, two small circular patches of black leather were sewn into the surrounding blue so perfectly I could just barely feel them with my hoof.

“One saddle bag, one bullet hole, patched, reinforced with boiled leather.”

I picked up my saddle bag, a small patch of black canvas was sewn into the side and the whole piece was much sturdier from the leather between the inner and outer layers.

“Contents, one steel flask, empty. One small tool kit.”

“Where’s my pistol?” I asked confused, digging through, but it was just my flask and tool kit.

“There was no pistol,” Arhem answered, passing me the clipboard and pen, “Sign here please.”

I signed my name and took my gear, I’d need to find a pistol somewhere.

“My price for the repairs stands at two hundred bucks,” Arhem read off from the clipboard, “Or one hundred fifty drachme.”

“Bucks?” I asked, stuffing my suit into my saddle bag and securing the straps in place, “Drachme?”

“You are aware of the Baltimare Dollar, yes? Republique Drachme?”

It took the armorer a few minutes to explain the two most widely used currencies up here, the Baltimare Dollar and the Republique Drachme.

The Baltimare Dollar, or more commonly just called bucks, was the currency printed and used by the Horseshoe Bay Union. Originally trading caravans from some long forgotten place down south in the Heartlands used bottle caps for money before Baltimare established itself as a major power after a conflict called the First Emergence War. As a result of their extensive trade connections and wealth their currency has mostly replaced bottle caps in the North Shore in the one hundred and ten or so years since.

The second most used currency was the Republique Drachme, by our proximity with the various kingdoms surrounding the New Roamani Republique, it was very natural that their currency drifted in on the trade caravans.

Since I had no money, Saluem offered to pay my debt this one time. I awkwardly promised her that I’d repay her, somehow. Back at her hut, I pulled on my suit and pulled the Outcast jacket back over it, Saluem had to go help another healer with his own patient.

In the quietness of the setting I thought about what I was gonna do. I needed to find Mom, I was… what? Four maybe five days behind her? I’d been outside for maybe little over a week?

Of course, I wouldn’t be going anywhere without a gun and bullets at my side and I couldn’t get a gun and bullets if I didn’t have any money.

*** *** ***

It was quite dark when I opened my eyes, glancing down at my PipBuck I saw it was actually early evening, around eight. Saluem wasn’t in her hut, looking around I noticed a pair of shadows by the door flap.

“How much longer will he have to be here, Saluem?” a very rough voice rumbled in from outside, “Three days is long enough.”

“His body has healed, but he might require a little more rest, Lucius,” Saluem’s softer, kinder voice drifted in, “Besides, what would Doctor Rose say if she found out that you wanted to turn away somebody from her stable?”

‘Okay… What?!’ I thought, shooting up, the blanket falling to my waist. How did they know Mom? Did she come through here?

“I will never comprehend you and Kaldi’s sickening fetish for ponies, after what they did to us,” the rough voice growled, something heavy stomped away, “Fine… you may keep your new pet… for now.”

The way he said fetish gave me a serious pause. Did my healer prefer ponies to zebras? Was that frowned upon in their culture? I glanced up at the door as Saluem stepped in, she blushed slightly when she saw I was awake.

“How… How much did you hear?” she asked, nervously rubbing her neck.

“Enough,” I muttered, “Did my… uh… Did Doctor Rose come through here?” probably wasn’t a good idea to tell them I was after my Mom yet.

“Well… another Stable Dweller wearing a suit with your number did come through…”

That was something, at least, “Do you know where she might’ve gone?” I asked, getting up.

Saluem put the bag down and refused to turn to me, pretending to check on her supplies instead. I carefully stepped closer to her, “Saluem, I understand that you’re just doing your job as a healer,” I started, keeping my voice as steady as possible, I gently placed my hoof on her shoulder, “But I’m fine now and I need to get a move on to find Doctor Rose.” Saluem still didn’t look at me, “If you could point me in the right direction, or perhaps somebody who knows, I will make it up to you… somehow.”

She still didn’t look at me as she did try to say something multiple times, but didn’t seem able too. She turned to one of the books on her table and placed her hoof on it, even if she covered it, I recognized it as one of Mom’s.

“Doctor Rose… did come through here and helped me treat troops injured by a Foalbanks attack. She… She gave me this book as a small parting gift.”

We stood in silence for a few minutes or possibly an hour before she turned to me and I saw her eyes were bloodshot, full of tears. I offered her a hug and she pressed her face into my shoulder. As she cried my hoof stroked her mane softly, just like how my Grandparents would comfort me when I was young.

“Sorry,” She wiped her face on her sleeve and apologized, “I’m supposed to be the cold, unfeeling doctor, but… so much blood on my incompent hooves.”

“I’m sure you tried your best,” I gently offered.

We stood in silence again before she stepped over to the door flap. I followed her out and saw a young looking zebra stallion in uniform with the strange assault rifle standing waiting.

“Ms Saluem,” he nodded to her and glanced at me, “Curfew starts soon.”

“The Stable Dweller wishes to speak with my brother, Axius.”

The soldier glanced between us before nodding, “Very well, this way.”

We followed the soldier through the streets and approached the farmhouse, the guards watched me silently as the soldier led me inside.

“Sit here,” the soldier said, pointing to a chair in the corner of the entrance room.

“Please, stay here, my brother can be… touchy, he’s not at his best right now and just returned,” she turned into a side room.

I sat down in a chair and waited, the entrance room was a good size with a staircase rounding a corner and heading up to the second floor. The walls were covered in simple cream colored paper and a few old looking framed photographs and paintings were hung up and lit candles were placed on metal bowls just over head height on the walls offering light.

The guards around the room watched me with smoldering suspicion until the young soldier extended a forehoof, “Prime Axius.”

“Uhh… Ozzy,” I shook the appendage, the soldier had a bandage wrapped around his foreleg above his hoof just under his sleeve, “Did you get injured?”

“Defended the Mid Rim, a Foalbanks markspony got a shot, Ms Saluem said I’d be fine if I rest.”

I nodded and was about to continue the pleasantness but Saluem returned and waved me in.

The room was dark with dozens of mutated animal heads stuffed and mounted on the walls: a muddy gray lizard with a wide mouth full of razor sharp teeth, a lion with a black silky mane, and a large dog-like creature with what looked like cybernetics to name the ones I recognized. A red throw rug on the hardwood floor led up to a small throne-like chair with five Outcasts guards stood on either side of the rug wearing black combat armor over their uniforms with the special purple armbands, each one held a combat shotgun at their sides. The throne had three spears behind it each with three colored flags, crimson, gold and purple and a colorful animal pelt was draped over the seat.

Standing beside the throne was Umeme with a very sleepy looking Prysm. On the opposite side were another zebra stallion and a zebra mare wearing Outcasts uniforms similar to Umeme’s, but the crimson on the armband was replaced with blue for the stallion and purple for the mare.

The stallion was narrow and he had a thinning silver mane and a goatee and the mare was on the plump side, her gray stripes were swirly and abstract, her mane was braided into a tight crown, and she wore a mask that was elaborately decorated with small gemstones, rainbow colored feathers, and other decorations.

The room was dead silent, Saluem stepped up to stand beside Umeme. Suddenly the door at the back of the room opened and a large zebra stallion stepped up to the throne and sat down carefully. Despite his injuries, he was still the most regal looking stallion I had ever seen and I knew instantly that this was the famed General.

He wore the Outcasts uniform with a pair of golden double wreaths with purple diamonds on his collar tabs and his armband had a field of horizontal crimson, blue and purple stripes. Much like Saluem, his black stripes were long and curly and his face was heavily scarred, a long jagged scar sliced across the left side of his muzzle, through his left eye and his left ear leaving it a crescent lump.

He glared down at me with a single, burning, scarlet eye, so unlike Saluem’s pretty blue ones.

“Brother, this is Ozymandias, the Stable Dweller that Umeme caught at the Foalbanks’ campsite,” Saluem presented me to the stallion, I felt all eyes on me, “He killed Bitterchip of Dela Crow.”

A low murmuring filled the room for a few moments before the General lifted a hoof for silence.

“I am Amandla Lucius Artorius Septimus… General of the Outcasts,” the stallion’s voice was a low rumble, “You tried to save my dear niece,” I nodded tentatively, “You have my thanks, as payment you may have one weapon and ammunition of your choice from my personal armory.”

“T-thank you, uh sir?” this wasn’t quite what I was expecting.

“Now,” he continued, “My little sister and my son have informed me of your reasoning for trying to save Prysm, but perhaps you could reiterate it for my Legates here?”

I glanced at the two zebras standing beside him, “Eadayiy, Legate of the Bastille and Vjera of the Palatine.”

“Honestly… Sir?” I gulped hard, this wasn’t a question, it was a demand… choosing my words very carefully I asked, “What kind of world would allow that to happen to anybody, especially a child?”

The two zebras thought over my words for a few moments before they agreed, the General leaned forward, “Perhaps we can come to an agreement after all.”

“What did you have in mind, Sir?” So far so good.

“As Saluem has told you, another Stable Dweller with your number came through here a few days ago, you desire her whereabouts, yes?” He asked, leaning forward, “How about an exchange? You help me and I help you?”

I glanced at Saluem for a moment, “Alright, Sir, let’s hear it.”

The General grinned slightly, slumping back in his seat he clapped his hooves, “Umeme.”

“Five days ago we were attacked by the Foalbanks, one hundred casualties, three hundred wounded, thankfully Doctor Rose was here to help Saluem and the other healers treat the injured. But fifty were captured and taken away in the chaos including my Aunt Kaldi and Prysm, thanks to our scout’s efforts we’ve retrieved forty and burned down five Foalbanks campsites and towns,” he handed me a small photograph, it was of four people, a zebra stallion with curly stripes hugging a zebra mare with straight stripes, a zebra filly and a unicorn colt holding a zebra foal, Umeme pointed to the zebra filly, “We have reason to believe that Kaldi was taken to Dela Crow as retribution for our war.”

Umeme took the photo from me, “My squad is going to infiltrate the town, find Aunt Kaldi and bring her back.”

“You will accompany Umeme and support him anyway you can,” the General rumbled, leaning forward, “Do this and I will tell you where Doctor Rose was headed.”

I thought about the proposition for what felt like a long time, I did tell Saluem that I’d be willing to do anything to find Mom, but at the same time… I had no real combative abilities! I wasn’t quite sure just how useful I would be in a firefight.

But I needed to find Mom and these zebras were my only shot at finding her, I looked the large stallion in the eye, “Anything to find Doctor Rose.”

The General wordlessly stood and waved for me to follow him through the door he came from.

Saluem pulled me aside and whispered into my ear, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, me too.”

The General held the door open for me and I followed through hallways deeper in the farmhouse, I looked at the framed photographs we passed.

One of them showed a young mare with a wide brimmed hat and a middle aged stallion sitting on a dock with fishing poles in their hooves with a large farmhouse behind them. A second one showed the same mare but older and holding a revolver in her mouth standing with an elderly stallion holding a lever action rifle in his hooves. They stood in front of a weird looking chicken with a scaly body that was hung up on a post. A third photo had the stallion when he was young, he was dressed in a sharp uniform with a plaid scarf thrown over his shoulder. He stood with a young mare wearing a dress and a jacket with a foal wrapped to her chest, a happy family.

I followed him quietly as we rounded a corner and stepped down some repaired stairs into a cinder block basement. At the base of the stairs was a set of chained up double doors with an Outcast holding a double barreled shotgun sat beside them on a chair. She nodded to the General, stood and pulled out a small key and the General pulled out a matching key from his uniform jacket, they unlocked the chains and the door opened.

I stood there mouth agape, there must’ve been at least a hundred weapons of all kinds lining the walls in racks and shelves and hundreds of boxes of ammo and weapon parts.

I took a tentative step forward and glanced back at the General, “Any weapon I want?”

“Just one,” he replied.

I perused the shelves and racks, recognizing nearly every one. Pistols, revolvers, submachine guns, rifles, machine guns, shotguns, conventional and magical energy, I even spotted what looked like a howitzer leaning in the corner.

I didn’t know which one to pick.

Ignoring the magical energy weapons, even if I understood how they worked in concept I didn’t have the brains to deal with maintaining them, I looked over the conventional guns starting with the assault rifles, but I didn’t feel very confident in being able to use them even if I knew how to take them apart. Continuing on, I came to the shotguns, double barreled, lever action, pump action and semi automatic, but I shook my head, if I couldn’t handle rifles how could I expect to handle a shotgun? I finally came across the pistols and revolvers, these I felt confident in. I skimmed over the selection, the 44 Magnum looked very tempting but I thought about the logistics of finding a ready supply of bullets for it, I continued on.

Then one pistol caught my eye.

The 45 auto pistol was smaller than the ones in Stable Fifty-Two, its grip was patterned with what look like tan snake-skin matching the snake-skin holster it leaned against, the hammer and the trigger were both skeletonized for weight reduction, the barrel and slide were shortened by a half inch or so and there was a groove in the nickel polished slide instead of ironsights. I picked it up with my magic and looked it over, both sides of the slide had strange letters engraved into it, on the right side was Kaì tò phõs én te skotía phaínei and on the left side was Kaì é skotía aútò oú katélaben.

“And the Light shines in the Darkness and the Darkness has not overcome it,” I whispered to myself, wait how did I know that? It clearly wasn’t in Ponish.

I took out the magazine and guessed by the witness holes it offered six or seven shots. My PipBuck pinged and I looked down at it, my Inventory sorting spell had labeled it as A Light Shining in Darkness, how the hell my little piece of Stable-Tec technology knew stuff like that was starting to get on my nerves.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the General asked, “one of my distant ancestors claimed it during a raid against a long dead Swampfolk family near New Horseleans, but it doesn’t work.”

“A broken firing pin?” I asked, pulling the slide back to peek in the chamber, but no it looked alright.

“I don’t know,” the stallion shrugged, “but it’s never fired when I’ve tried, you’ll probably be better off with a different gun.”

I looked down at the pistol, flipping it over in my magic. I couldn’t really say why, but something deep in my gut was calling to me to take it.

“May I test it out first, Sir?”

“Of course,” he pointed to a side door, “Use my personal range.”

I picked up a box of 45 Auto bullets and the pistol and the holster and took them into the room, there was a small table just inside to the left with a dented steel plate hanging from the ceiling a foot or so from a wall of sandbags opposite the door. I set the ammo box on the table and took out the magazine, loading in six bullets.

The General stepped up to the table and silently watched as I took aim at the plate. The groove sight was a little odd at first but I quickly got the hang of it, I flipped the safety to fire and pulled the trigger. The bullet tore a large hole through the plate with a thunderous boom and hit the sandbags behind it.

Given just how dented the plate was that didn’t really surprise me. I pulled the trigger again and another thunderous bullet tore another larger hole in the target. Ok, so the bullets are pretty powerful, that could prove useful. I reloaded, flipped on the safety and attached the holster to my hip.

The General stared at the plate with slight bewilderment, he glanced down at me.

“I’d say it works just fine, Sir,” I said, “I’ll be taking more bullets too.”

Level Up: New Perk: Hardened: You take 5% less damage from all physical attacks, but all healing items are 5% less effective over time.

Chapter Four

Chapter Four
“But in the end… Our choices make us.”

Umeme introduced me to his Frumentarii squad the following morning, Mashhad, Tahka, Q’osk and Ophia.

Jorqar Mashhad was the team’s sniper, a zebra/pegasus hybrid (keeping his wings under his cloak), and was easily the oldest stallion in the Outcasts at nearly eighty years old. His one remaining ear was pierced with an old gold ring that was engraved in a strange looking language that he referred to as Estori, the dialect of his tribe of the same name. His nose was pierced by a long black spiney quill and his few remaining teeth were sharpened into points as some kind of adulthood ritual from his tribe when he was twelve. He wore a lightened dark green combat harness over a military style overcoat of muted green wool and his wide brimmed dark leather hat was adorned by white bird feathers and dozens of serrated teeth from a sea animal he called a shark on a necklace. Since his aging body couldn’t handle the rhythmic recoil of the Outcasts’ assault rifles, he wielded a strange looking hoof made magical energy weapon with a wooden stock that had a crank on gears wired into the glass capacitor which generated the beam that shot down the barrel to a focuser attached to a focused emitter.

Tahka Tahkamata was the squad’s explosives expert and its youngest member, being just a year older than me and he seemed rather impulsive. He had thin and jagged stripes and a few notches in his right ear. He said he was from a town in the Heartlands before he followed trade caravans and gradually wandered to the Palatine. His armor was reinforced by blackened steel plates and a dozen pockets and satchels for explosives.

Q’osk of Q’ahn was the massive stallion from the other day and mostly acted as the squad’s heavy weapons expert and general heavy lifter. He wore a full suit of segmented steel armor that he had stained a dull matte dark green with black and brown spot camouflage over his uniform, complete with a fully faced helmet with a long list of what looked like names scratched on the side and wielded a pair of heavy barreled machine guns chambered for 7.62mm on the suit’s custom battle saddle. He called it Lorica Segmentata, I think, his heavy accent didn’t exactly help much. He wasn’t with the squad when they saved Prysm because he and another squad were sent to assist the neighboring Chukk-chukks with a Cockatrice nest.

Ophia was the squad’s second in command, the unarmed specialist and the only mare. Her eyes, twisted and convoluted stripes and glyph were all dull cadmium red instead of black or gray like pretty much every other zebra in the Castrum. She had an old long jagged scar line that started at her upper lip and ran up beside her nose past the corner of her right eye ending just above her brow. She wore a thick shoulder belt with a holstered compact machine pistol over her uniform, a pair of spiked ponyshoes and an older, clunkier model of PipBuck attached to her foreleg so her uniform sleeve had to be rolled up to her elbow.

Apparently she had to defeat several Outcasts including Umeme in wrestling matches to prove her worth to the General and even then it took the General’s late wife to convince him to allow her to join. I also noticed that nearly all of the zebras and ponies in the Castrum seemed to be avoiding her for some reason.

*** *** ***

We stood in line with hundreds of Outcasts at the Castrum’s cafeteria, the head chef Celia Chukk-chukk, an older Swampfolk earth pony mare with a cleft lip, was handing out steaming bowls of soup made from potatoes and a bit of pale meat from a creature called a Crawdad with a bread roll made of corn. Crawdads, as Celia explained to me, was a sort of local catch-all term for the mutated descendants of crustaceans that were native to the North Shore.

She took me around the back and showed me the ones that her helpers were roasting on a spit over an open fire pit, the creatures ranged considerably from the smallest ones being just about the length of my leg to the largest one being three ponies long. They had slender bodies covered in hard chitinous exoskeletons that were a mix of muted browns and greens, multiple legs, big front pincer claws, a pair of beady black eyes, and the females had worm-like sucker mouths and the males had a more alligator-like mouth.

According to the chef, they made for good eating because they were relatively easy to clean, they matured quickly, and spawned by the dozens from large egg clutches.

“What model of rifle is that?” I asked Umeme as we sat down at a table to eat, “I’ve seen the schematics of nearly every gun Ironshod made, but I don’t recognize yours.”

“Makes sense,” Umeme muttered, unholstering his rifle and showing me it.

“Maybe that’s not such a good idea, sir,” Ophia interrupted, glaring daggers of suspicion at me.

“Ophia, our ancestor’s designs are far from secret,” Umeme replied sternly, the mare backed off, but continued her glare, “This is the Type 36 Assault Carbine, it’s older and wasn’t as heavily used in the Great War as the Type 41s were, but it's much more durable and reliable, especially here.”

The carbine was maybe a couple inches shorter than a heavy assault rifle, the twenty round magazine was short, ribbed and curved. The ribbed gas system was built above the fourteen inch chrome-lined barrel connected to the tangent rear iron sight and an egg shaped silencer was screwed onto the muzzle below the raised hooded front iron sight.

I tried to read the markings on the left side of the magazine well, but they were written in Roamani, the main zebra trade language, but judging by the bullet outlines on the switch, the weapon likely had two modes, safe and fire.

“Okay, is it short-stroke?” I asked, the gas system of the heavy assault rifle was tied to a spring-loaded piston housed in the front furniture under the front iron sight.

“Yes and it’s only semi-automatic compared to the Type 41’s three round burst option.”

That answered that, “And your pistol?”

The stallion reached down and unholstered his weapon, “This is the Type 15 pistol, it was mostly used by tank crews and vehicle drivers early in the Great War, but it was mostly replaced with the Type 17s in the closing years.”

The pistol somewhat resembled the layout of a rifle with the ten round, detachable magazine placed in front of the mouth grip and trigger under the heavy slide with a tangent rear sight which lined up with the simple stick front sight. I took the pistol from Umeme and looked it over with my magic. Unholstering my own pistol I compared the muzzles and found my pistol’s bore was slightly bigger.

“9mm?” I asked, handing it back, Umeme nodded.

“How do the bullets explode?” I asked, remembering back to the campsite, “Specialty ammunition?”

“No, most of our weapons were enchanted late in the War with some level of environmental effect,” Mashhad explained, sitting next to me with a bowl of mushed up soup, “You may have noticed that most of us don’t have access to magic like you do, Kid, so we use gemstones to weave magic into an object, our invisibility cloaks have a gem that allows the fabric to wrap light around the wearer.”

“Okay, so where do you get the bullets?” I asked past a mouth full of soupy bread, according to the books I read they were pretty complex and I just couldn’t imagine somebody making them by hoof, at least reliably.

“Detrot is full of factories,” Umeme answered, Q’osk and Tahka sat across from us, “Some say nearly as many as Fillydelphia and some of them are still somewhat functional. Hell, the whole suburb of Gundalk is basically one big bullet factory run by a tribe called the Bullet Farmers.”

“Bullet Farmers?” I asked questioningly, surely you couldn’t farm bullets like you could crops… right?

*** *** ***

Once we finished up, Umeme took me up to the Armory to get me outfitted with a suit of proper armor. Arhem seemed less than pleased to be dealing with me again, but with Umeme at my side the tailor kept his thoughts to himself at least.

He instructed me to hold still as an assistant took out a tape measure and jotted down my measurements before entering the side room and returning after a few minutes with a box of hoofmade leather armor.

It looked like it was made from a combination of a sleeveless jacket and hardened leather hoofball equipment with a bandolier offering pockets for small objects like ammunition. The whole piece was made from dark brown leather and seemed to offer more protection than just my stable suit alone.

Umeme helped me put it on over my Outcasts jacket and my stable suit and helped adjust the straps.

“You could almost pass for a proper Wastelander now,” Umeme jokingly said, my cheeks reddened slightly as I thanked the handsome buck, “We’ll meet up in the Mid Rim in one hour, then we’ll leave for Dela Crow.”

*** *** ***

“Are you certain that you want to do this?” Saluem asked, wrapping a healing bandage around a cleaned scrape on a young colt’s shin.

I was standing in her hut’s doorway, waiting for Umeme’s squad to armor themselves so we could head out. The healer hadn’t said anything to me since last night so this conversation was slightly unexpected.

“I did say I’d do anything,” I answered, checking over my new armor and gear.

I contemplated taking my saddle bag, figuring that I could use the extra carrying capacity, but I also didn’t want it to get needlessly damaged. I decided to risk it and bring it with me. The colt thanked Saluem, hugged her, and left to rejoin his friends waiting outside.

She turned to me and asked, “Have you ever killed a person intentionally?”

The question caught me off guard, “I… no,” I admitted, Bitterchip didn’t count to me, I wasn’t trying to kill, just stop him.

“Swampfolk are raised on killing, when they get their cutie mark they are given a knife and go out to find an outsider to kill,” she placed her hoof on my shoulder pauldron, “Can you kill a child?”

I looked at her disgusted, did she really just ask me that? But I couldn’t help but think about her words. I didn’t really like being around kids too much, well… Yarn was passable, my heart stung slightly at the thought of my temporary apprentice. But that didn’t mean I wanted to actually harm them?

“Can you?”

“I have,” the mare quietly admitted after a pregnant pause.

I whipped around to look at her, my heart froze, “Really?”

She turned away from me as she spoke, “I couldn’t have been much older than Prysm and Lucius was not yet General. I was out with Kaldi and a friend of mine fishing for baby crawdads and catfish… when we stumbled across him.”

She took a moment before continuing, “He was a deathly malnourished earth pony with a rotting corn cob cutie mark, he was… so terrified of me the knife in his mouth wouldn’t stop trembling and tears flooded his eyes.”

Her voice broke and she almost sobbed before she spoke again, “I… I remember lifting my spear in my mouth and charging him. He stumbled back frightened and fell into some muddy water and… I… I thrusted my spear deep into his lumpy throat before he could scream out. I still… see his gurgling blood mixing with the water when I close my eyes.”

I took a tentative step closer and placed my hoof on her shoulder, she swung around tears threatening to drip down her cheeks. If she really had killed somebody and was haunted by the experience, well no wonder she detested violence.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” I struggled to say, “I just-”

She brushed past me and stopped in the doorway before leaving, “Pray that you have the strength to make the right choice.”

I facehoofed, heart-to-heart talking wasn’t my strongest skill.

*** *** ***

The land that spread between the Inner Rim’s square walls and the Mid Rim’s more lumpy egg shaped walls made from the wreckage of dozens of pre-war vehicles called Sky Buses was cleared of all foliage and leveled for hundreds of shacks, huts, and tents that had been set up in a semi-haphazard town.

According to Umeme, only Outcasts and Guests like me were permitted within the Core and Inner Rim. Hundreds of zebras and ponies were milling about doing chores, like repairing several large holes in the wall with steel salvaged from vehicles, or shopping at the market stalls that lined the six main ring streets.

I saw many different looking Wastelanders, many of them wearing armor or traveling gear and wielding pistols, submachine guns, rifles or shotguns.

I spoke with a few of them and apparently most groups were from the surrounding regions such as Haagenheim where the twin ruins of Whinnyapolis and St Haul were, The Divide where the ruins of Detrot laid half buried in irradiated canyons and caves, The Flatts where the casino city of Foaledo loomed as a shining neon monument to sin and greed, or the Tsardom where the ruins of Stalliongrad slumped on the banks of the Stallga-matushka. While others were from other places deeper in Equestria such as the Hoof a couple of months to the south and the Heartlands the better part of half a year to the southwest.

According to an older traveling merchant, she’d rarely seen living trees since coming up north. So living trees were rare in the world, interesting.

I saw a group of thirty or so ponies encased head to hoof in special hazmat suits made of thick brown canvas, padded leather armor stained black with grease, armored gas masks and helmets, and patches of a hippo with the words Hippocampus Energy on their sleeves, and seemed to be speaking through gestures made with their hooves.

I spoke with a mare who seemed to be their leader and found out they called themselves the Riggers, a collection of ponies and zebras who worked the ancient oil and natural gas pumps found throughout the swamp to sell to Baltimare and to the surrounding North Shore. I asked if it was a dangerous job and she explained that after twenty years on she’d seen over a hundred good workers die horrifically.

I shuddered at that mental image as I continued on.

There was also a group of pegasi, two were wearing asymmetrical uniforms that were cold gray with sky blue trimmings, black flat caps, fancy black respirators, and magical energy pistols in holsters. They were perusing the technology merchants with a stallion encased head to hoof in incredibly impressive glossy dark gray insectoid armor with matte sky blue highlights and carrying a pair of wicked looking magical plasma rifles under his armored wings that casted a light green glow.

I overheard a little bit of their conversation as they walked by.

“Honestly, Open,” the mare lightly scolded her companion, “How, in the whole of Equestria, could a damn star battery be in the fucking swamp of all places?”

“You never know, Goldy,” the stallion replied, brushing off the argument as their guard followed silently behind them.

I didn’t really pay them too much attention as I continued to peruse the stalls for another few minutes or so before a voice called to me.

“Excuse me, sir,” the pegasus stallion from before was staring at the golden Fifty-Two on my suit’s collar and my flank, “Would you happen to be a genuine Stable Dweller?”

“Uhh, yes?” I answered nervously.

“Does your PipBuck function?” he asked, gesturing to my foreleg, “May I see it?”

“Come on, Open, knock it off,” the mare said bitterly, catching the attention of a few people and vendors around, “No way he’s a Stable Dweller, probably just stole them from one of the abandoned stables down here.”

“Well aren’t you just a shining peach,” I muttered at the mare, who glared daggers at me, turning back to the stallion, “Yes, my PipBuck works just fine.”

“May I see it?” he asked again.

“Ok, but how about a trade first?” I asked after a moment of consideration, “I haven’t been outside for very long, perhaps you could tell who you’re with for a look?”

The pegasi exchanged glances before the stallion nodded, “Alright, I’m Open Cloud of New Cloudsdale and this is my research partner, Goldenstreak of Mount Reyns, we’re researchers with the Expeditionary Corp of the Grand Pegasus Enclave.”

I glanced up to the armorclad stallion behind them, he radiated a similar aura as Officer Crosshairs did, save for the small rabbit cartoon doodle on his left shoulder pauldron, but the armored scorpion tail with the wicked several inch long blade certainly made up for that.

“And this is Lieutenant Rayn of New Winsome Falls,” Open Cloud continued, waving a wing to the armored stallion, “She’s our guard for our mission.”

Ok, so the armored stallion was a mare, right.

Open Cloud lifted up my PipBuck and looked it over like it was a priceless artifact, which I supposed it was.

“Only a few days, but nearly a hundred miles already, impressive,” he murmured to himself, “Uhm, that’s interesting.”

“What is?” I asked, pulling my PipBuck back.

“Oh nothing, just surprised it’s in such good condition… considering.”

“Considering what?”

“Oh, just the Wastelands,” he brushed off my question, “Thank you for letting me look.”

I decided to not push the topic, “Ok, so what’s this about a star battery?”

“Back off, Wastelander!” Goldenstreak briskly shouted, shoving her pistol’s emitter into my muzzle, “It doesn’t concern you!”

Shit! My mind sped up to a mile a minute as I thought of what to do, when a voice lifted my heart a beat.

“Excuse me,” Umeme asked, the pegasi looked back at him and the ten Outcast guards with him, he was wearing his plastic cloak over his armor, “Is there a problem here?”

“Nothing that concerns you, zebra,” Goldenstreak declared, glaring at the stallion.

But Umeme stared her down like a disappointed parent, “Must I really remind the illustrious Enclave of the treaty, again?”

Treaty? What treaty?

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Lieutenant Rayn’s mechanized voice interrupted before Goldenstreak could say anything else, “We’ll move along, good day, Stable Dweller.”

“Fucking Enclave,” Umeme breathed harshly when they were well out of earshot.

“What’s their deal?” I asked, the guards dispersed about the crowds.

“Just,” he started, trying to find the right words, “All of their talk of bringing civilization to the Wastes, hogshit. We’ve guarded the Long Stretch for over a hundred years now, keeping the trade flowing to Baltimare. Then a few months back they came flying down from their paradise, claiming to have come to save us all from the hell they fled from? Bunch of fascists, the whole fucking lot of them!”

“Then why put up with them?”

He stopped in his tracks and whipped around on me, “You saw that power armor, you see what we have at our disposal, we fight drunken inbred hicks armed with lever guns and revolvers, most of them can barely comprehend basic fighting tactics like wearing armor. The Enclave though, if even a fraction of them are that well equipped then we wouldn’t last a few hours against them… not without serious sacrifices… unlike the Old Guard.”

He had a point. “Old Guard?” I asked, remembering that Tahka had mentioned the name before, “Are they an army?”

“Yeah, the Old Guard is Baltimare’s citizen defence force. Most powerful army I’ve ever seen. The First Emergence War against the Steel Rangers lasted ten years and ended with the creation of the Myre,” he murmured quietly, “The Second Emergence War only lasted ten days and ended with a truce, a treaty that says the Enclave isn’t permitted in Baltimare’s territories, save for an embassy in the capitol, and in exchange Baltimare has permitted them to operate in the North Shore. Never understood why.”

After seeing that impressive armor, I wondered what kind of army could fight against that?

*** *** ***

We stood in front of the Castrum’s main gate, twin double door gates connected to a long reinforced walkway with twin heavy machine guns squared up on the entrance from behind reinforced barricades.

A small number of people were there to see us off, Q’osk said his goodbyes to a similarly tall younger mare, she was sternly telling him something that made the stallion chuckle, hug her lovingly and kiss her forehead before donning his helmet.

Tahka was hugging a small colt with Celia, “Be good for Nana, Tyn.”

“K, Papa,” the colt chirped, “Bring me a gift.”

“Only if you’re good.”

“Stay safe,” Celia told Tahka, kissing his cheek.

“Hey,” he replied smirking, “It’s me.”

“Exactly.”

A little ways away Umeme was speaking with the General, “You know what must be done, Umeme,” The General spoke with an even tone, “Remember just find Kaldi, once you’re out Legate Eadayiy will go in with his soldiers and mop up the rest.”

“Yes, Father.”

The taller stallion grabbed his son by the shoulder and pulled him into a hug, “Be safe out there.”

Prysm came up to me, her green eyes looking rather sheepish, “Uncle and Auntie said I should thank you for trying to save me.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” I replied, a little surprised by this display of politeness.

Her eyes shifted to a robin’s egg blue and her cheeks blushed, she clearly wasn’t used to showing gratitude, “She also told me to thank you for going out to save Mama.”

I placed my forehoof on the filly’s head and ruffled up her mane a little, “Hey, your family's done me a pretty big solid, only right I repay it.”

The filly swatted away my hoof with a grumpy look and walked away as Saluem came up. I felt my cheeks redden remembering the embarrassing conversation.

“You might be needing these,” she reached into her saddle bag and handed me a roll of bandages, “Stay safe out there, okay?”

“Thanks,” I said, taking them, but her hoof lingered on mine for a moment longer than needed before we crossed the double doors and down the bridge to the Outskirts.

Between the Outskirts and the walls of the Mid Rim was a moat about ten feet wide and deep and the floor was covered in thousands upon thousands of long gnarly looking sharp spikes and tangled barbed wire made from rusty steel that loosely resembled thorny bushes. The muddy lands of the Outskirts were cleared of trees and underbrush for about a hundred yards or so revealing the thousands of white stone markers that spiraled out from the moat to the distant treeline with a series of paths cutting through to the main road. A few Outcasts were burying small clay vases in graves by fresh stone markers.

Mashhad stood by a small stone marker with an old looking curved knife leaning against it. The sniper had removed his hat and had it pressed to his chest standing in silence for a long while before placing his hat back on his head a little crooked and joined us before we continued down a four lane wide crumbling road lined with thousands of rusted skeletons of ancient pre-war vehicles called the Long Stretch.

According to Umeme, the Long Stretch was the remains of Highway Nineteen and was one of only two throughways connecting the Horseshoe Bay to the rest of Equestria before the Last Day when the Hayseed Swamp hadn’t been as far reaching as they were now. That gave me some pause, if the Swamp could spread then just how out of date were my PipBuck’s maps?

The day mostly passed by with very little of note as we traveled southeast through rotting swampland, I had noticed that the air wasn’t feeling quite as cold and stagnant to my coat as when I had first entered almost a week ago, maybe I was just getting used to it. I heard a great many animals off in the distant wilderness along with the rare gunshot echo. We found a few bullet riddled road signs,

Caution

Pink Flu Infected Area

Contact local Ministry of Peace officials immediately if you spot somebody with the following symptoms…

The rest of the signs were cut off by rust.

“Pink Flu?” I asked, cocking my brow.

“Oh, those, ignore those,” Umeme muttered to me, “Pink Flu has mostly died out by now.”

“What was it?” I asked, noticing that the group looked a little on edge.

“Nasty disease,” Mashhad answered, shaking his head, “First it makes you sweat and develop a nasty fever like any flu which leads to unexplained contusions and then boils, tumors and cysts start swelling through your body that start glowing a nasty pink and finally it reaches your organs and you die from internal hemorrhaging. Nasty.”

“Where did it come from?” I asked grimacingly.

“Nobody really knows,” the stallion answered, making a spooky noise, “But it mostly seems to affect ponies so I’ve heard some doctors from Baltimare have theories that it could of been spread through plants like Killing Joke or it could’ve been a weapon.”

“Killing Joke?” I asked, “Is that like Poison Joke?”

“Killing Joke came from Poison Joke,” Umeme answered, “Stay well away from any vines with glowing blue flowers.”

“Painful experience?”

“It flayed me alive for several weeks before Aunt Saluem could cure me.”

“Shit,” I grimaced, shuddering as a cold rushed up my spine.

*** *** ***

Nearing dinner time we came across a sickly looking pony that was slowly stumbling alongside the road. Umeme had us stop and Mashhad wound up the crank of his musket before lining up his shot. A scratchy beam of blue light loudly popped from the focuser and struck the pony squarely in their chest making them drop to the crumbling asphalt.

As we came closer I noticed a very foul stench and that the pony’s coat was molting away revealing large patches of blistered hide, its mane and tail were little more than wispy strands and the flesh that wasn’t burned by Mashhad’s musket was rotting or eaten by animals. The ancient military uniforms draped over the remnants of its thin body was little more than putrid moldy fabric pockmarked by centuries of neglect, combat and the Swamp.

I heaved up my breakfast and Tahka laughed at me, “Never seen a zombie, huh?”

“A what?” I whizzed, trying to get the taste of bile out of my mouth.

“Ghouls,” Ophia muttered, shaking her head.

“Folk that succumb to radiation and whose minds rot away leaving them little more than wild animals,” Mashhad mumbled, taking off his hat and pressing it to his chest, “Wastelands are full of them, out in the wilderness you can find herds dozens even hundreds strong that can overwhelm nearly anything.”

Umeme nodded, “I’ve seen them rip a young hydra apart.”

I forced myself to look down at the corpse wondering what their life must’ve been like to end up the way they were.

*** *** ***

It was very late when we entered Clearview, an Outcasts town surrounded by tall marsh grasses on the west bank of a small murky lake that was the main home of the Swampfolk family, the Kattayls.

The town was surrounded by a large makeshift wall made from scrap wood and steel, the main gate was decorated by a rampant zebra outlined by a gold sun and what looked like the tall marsh grass around the town.

“Hold!” the gate guard called, holding up his shotgun, “Name yer business!”

“Legate Amandla Orthius Umeme Octavius, this is my squad, we’re here on a mission to Dela Crow and require shelter for the night.”

The guards opened the gate and we walked into the town, close to a hundred Swampfolk were milling about doing odd jobs while about fifty Outcasts held the defensive makeshift wall. The town was made up of old buildings and houses on stilts repaired with scrap wood and sheet steel roofs, the general store was marked by a sign of three gold coins with a strange language and rough Ponish written below,

Madam Ponada’s Boutique and Inn

Umeme pushed open the door and we were greeted by the pungent stench of smoldering incenses and plants. The room was cluttered with items for sale, balls of colorful herbs tied with twine, bottles of strange glowing liquids, what looked like shrunken pony heads, cages held mutated animals and pieces of bones with words scribbled on them in multicolored wax.

At the back of the shop was an elderly looking Swampfolk mare with a crazy knotted mop of a mane that tumbled down to the ratty shawl wrapped about her thin shoulders, and dozens of charms and pendants hung on necklaces around her thin neck.
Mashhad tapped a strung up bell and the Swampfolk glanced up from her old book, it took her a moment to spot us in the clutter.

“Jorqar Mashhad,” Her deep blue stained lips twisted into a grin revealing crooked yellow stained teeth, “Was wondering when you’d wander back into my neck of da Swamp.”

“Evening, Andia,” the stallion smirked, kissing her outstretched hoof, “Do you have any spare rooms?”

“Just two,” she said, trailing her hoof down his shoulder, “But you stay with me.”

We marched down the side hallway and went to our rooms, Umeme and Ophia and Tahka, Q’osk and me, Mashhad went off with the mare.

The room was small with one sagging bed, a fat candle burned in a bowl casting shadows across the room with a small screened window was open and let in the cold air and sounds of the town and the Swamp beyond.

Tahka and Q’osk gave me the bed, but the sogginess and apparent small insects made me decline the offer and instead slept on the floor with the two stallions. The cramped position made my body hurt and the pleasurable moans and cries from the room above made it hard for me to sleep.

As I laid there I started having second thoughts about what I was doing. Sure I needed to find Mom, but was I justified in involving myself in the Outcasts’ politics?

*** *** ***

The following morning we continued down the road and maybe around mid morning we came across a couple trade ponies on a covered wagon being pulled by a strange two headed cow.

The leader said they were headed to the Castrum and further up to a town in Baltimare called Inner Harbor. Umeme questioned them about Foalbanks activity in the area and the leader told us that something had attacked a caravan further down the road. After wishing them safe journeys we continued on for another many hours before we came across a bullet riddled road sign adorned with strung up old dolls, moldy teddy bears, plastic pony mannequin heads and the rotting corpses of mutated animals that once said,

Delacroix-10 miles

But now was covered in stenciled crossed revolvers and new words in Ponish and a strange looking written language in bright orange paint,

FOALBANKS LAND
FUCK OFF!

“Well,” I muttered mostly to myself, “They’re certainly to the point.”

“This way,” Umeme directed us off of the road to a very narrow hoof beaten path that led into the trees, “It’s not far off now.”

“Where are we going?” I asked, falling in behind Ophia with Q’osk bringing up the rear.

“There’s an outpost nearby, they should have a boat.”

We continued through the trees and tall grasses for another few hours before the trees opened to reveal a small shack made of scrap wood and rusty steel on the muddy banks of a small scum covered alcove of a large murky lake with a rotting dock. A Swampfolk wearing a tattered quilted coat and holding a hunting shotgun sat in a rusty lawn chair by a sputtering smokey campfire in a pit with what looked like a large dog that growled at us.

Umeme went up and spoke with the stallion for a bit while the rest of us hung back.

“Hey, Ophia,” I asked the mare quietly, “What’s with your red stripes?”

“Hey, Stable Dweller,” she muttered quietly, “What’s with the bloody nose?”

“Ophia, no,” Mashhad, Tahka, and Q’osk interrupted.

“He’s just so-” Ophia started.

“He couldn’t have known,” the elderly stallion calmly shot back, glaring her down.

Couldn’t have known? Couldn’t have known what?

Ophia glared at me for a while before she spoke, “Survive this fight and I just might think about telling you, Stable Dweller.”

I nervously nodded, the way she spat out the words Stable Dweller made my spine chill. Umeme waved to us and we sat down around the fire, the stallion passed around some wrinkly apples that tasted like bitter wet saw dust. I nervously glanced down at the large dog/tree thing, it’s body was made up of twigs, shredded black tree bark, green leaves and vines, and its eyes glowed a sickly light green yellow. I found the creature extremely unsettling.

“Who da Stable Dwellah?” the Swampfolk asked in heavily accented Ponish, “Ya sed id jus be yer group.”

“Nask,” Umeme replied dryly, “He killed Bitterchip.”

He glanced at me lumpy mouth agape, “You-”

“Yeah,” I muttered.

“A Stable Dwellah?”

“Yes,” I muttered again.

“Bout damn time somebody took dat bastard,” he muttered approvingly, “Din’t tink id be a Stable Dwellah.”

“Nask, is the boat ready?” Umeme interrupted, getting the conversation back on track.

“Yeah,” Nask answered, pointing to a rusty boat tied to a post of the dock.

“Alright,” Umeme said, the group stood and stepped over, I followed.

Getting on, Nask untied the boat as Tahka and Q’osk took the oars and we pushed off and headed to the distant bright lights and smoke trails across the lake.

*** *** ***

Crossing the lake took a very long time, as I floated out Light and held it at the ready, Saluem’s words floated in my mind again.

Could I really do this? I looked down at the murky water and thought it over, I did say that I’d do anything to find Mom, but could I really kill someone intentionally? From what I’d seen and heard of the Foalbanks they attacked any outsider or enslaved them. If I killed them then I could possibly make the Hayseed Swamps a little bit safer and the General assured me that he would tell me where Mom may have gone when we saved Kaldi.

I made up my mind.

“Umeme,” Mashhad muttered as he scoped out the lights on the approaching shoreline, “I count five sentries with a half dozen on the walls.”

“Right, you know the drill, we’re here for Jackchip and Aunt Kaldi,” Umeme whispered, “Q’osk, stay with the boat. Mashhad, get up high and do what you do best. Ozzy, you’re supporting Mashhad. Tahka, get on Jackchip’s boat and destroy it, your way. Ophia, you come with me.”

“Umeme,” Ophia started, “I thought-”

“Plans change.”

There was a noticeable pause before the group nodded as we touched down on the shore a ways up from the fenced in town. As the others got to work, Mashhad pointed a hoof at a very tall tree as his wings extended out from his coat and the elderly zebra pegasus began to scale it. I gulped hard and slowly started to climb after him. My armor felt heavy and I nearly fell a couple of times when I nearly stepped on a few small animals, but after what felt like an eternity, I finally made it up to Mashhad’s perch.

“Good to see that you’re in good shape,” the elderly sniper whinnied.

I grimaced, we were about thirty maybe forty feet off the ground and a bit above the tree canopy. The cold winds chilled my bones and it took all my concentration to not fall off. I wished I still had my rope to tie myself secure.

“Here,” Mashhad said over the wind, he held a small metal cylinder from one of his coat’s inner pockets, “Can you use a spyglass?”

I shook my head, taking the device in my magic and floating it closer, it could extend to about ten inches or so with two glass lenses on either side.

It’s simple,” the sniper explained, “you extend to full length and look through the smaller lens.”

I did as instructed and my view was a little clearer. From my perch and through the spyglass I looked out over the town on the island, really it was little more than a small number of old buildings and homes lining a single crumbling street with a tall leaning brick building, a church, on the opposite side. A couple dozen trailer homes, as Mashhad called them, made up the outer walls forming a loose semicircle that opened to the lake where an old looking paddle boat was moored at a guarded dock. The main gate bridge was guarded by a couple of Swampfolk lounging around at a smoldering campfire.

I noticed a couple of weird shimmerings, like steam wafting from a pipe, behind the guards and without warning both guards were stabbed under their lumpy jaws by Umeme and Ophia who then dragged them off in the darkness before creeping across the metal bridge into the town. I looked around the walls some more and eventually spotted another shimmering headed toward the crumbling docks and the boat. Tahka grabbed a guard and dragged her back into the murky water. Another guard must’ve noticed the noise cause he was cautiously walking over the rail where his friend was just a moment before. Tahka swooped up from the water and stabbed the guard’s throat and dragged him off the boat before pulling himself over the railing and disappearing from my sight.

“They’re in,” Mashhad muttered, lowering his musket, “Now we wait for the fun to start.”

I nodded and lowered the spyglass, taking a moment to examine my surroundings. I noticed that after the almost stifling decay of the swamp floor the air up here was almost too clean. I looked around to get my bearings, even with the spyglass it was too dark for me to see any great distance south but I did notice a couple of faint lights coming from behind me far to the northeast.

“So, tell me Kid,” Mashhad muttered as he cranked his musket creating a dull blue ball in the glass chamber, “What’s life in a stable like?”

“Pretty monotonous really,” I muttered, watching the blue ball quiver and squirm about in its glass cage, “Apart from the Radmoles attacking, it was safe.”

“Anyone special there?”

I swallowed hard as I thought about Cobalt, the way she hesitated before she shot at me and her tears as the Door closed shut, “Probably not anymore.”

“Right,” the sniper mumbled quietly, “I won’t pry, Kid, know that pain.”

There was a very long silence after that as we sat up there.

“How long have you been doing this?” I asked, wanting to break the stillness.

“Oh, I’ve been with the Outcasts since the General’s father’s father let me in, General Amandla Pyrite Floren Quintus. I probably wasn’t too much older than Umeme.”

“Yeah?” I asked, “Where’re you from?”

“My tribe’s from Zanzebra, it was a region of tropical islands that had very little connection to the Caesar of the Last Day, not like that saved us from being invaded multiple times. We were scattered across the Celestial Sea shortly following the start of the Great War and we’ve continued on as merchants and pirates.”

“My father was a pegasus that visited the Farasi port city of Casabronco where he met my mother who was a pirate at the time. They had fun one night and months later I was born in a pirate settlement in the western Dragonlands called Whore’s Gash. Long gone now.”

“What happened to it?” I asked, glancing down at the town.

“I don’t know, I believe that a sea dragon drowned the place.”

“Sea dragon?” I asked, very puzzled, “I thought dragons flew.”

“I’m sure they do, but sea dragons aren’t the flying ones, they’re said to be more like giant snakes nearly a mile long living in the deep seas eating whales and giant squids.”

“Wow,” I muttered, thinking about a monster miles long, I shivered.

“Yeah, and Seaponies sing songs that hypnotise sailors and they take their seed to keep their queen full,” Mashhad chuckled.

I was taken aback for a second before glaring at the old sniper, “So, you’re just fucking with me now?”

“Not really, Kid. Sea dragons did exist once, but not anymore. Their bones can be found occasionally out along the coasts and something did destroy Whore’s Gash, but I think it was actually poisonous gas from some underground sulfur pits upwind from the town. The Dragonlands are full of them, volcanoes and lava lakes, or slavers attacked and hauled them away somewhere.”

“Why would anybody want to live there?”

“Oh, the dragons love it, Kid, see their lands weren’t bombed during the Last Day so there’s very little radiation or monsters.”

We must’ve been up there for close to a quarter hour talking quietly before Mashhad changed the subject, “Just a friendly bit of advice, Kid, I know you’re just doing this to find your Stable’s doctor and all, understandable, she seemed like a nice enough mare when I spoke with her. But maybe you should also consider finding a place to settle down out here, Hell, the General’s gonna make you an Outcast on the spot when we find Kaldi and Saluem is unwed.”

“What?” I asked before nearly a full minute before I comprehended the words, “Wait, what?”

“I saw the way she looked at you when we left, Kid, I’m old enough to know when a mare sees a buck she might like.”

“S-she’s a bit older than me,” I deflected, trying to focus on anything else.

“When you get as old as me, Kid,” Mashhad laughed, “You may find that age is just a number.”

I felt my cheeks redden as I looked away and focused on a very interesting branch. I wasn’t going to think about the sniper’s joking words or about the way Saluem’s nice hips swayed as she walked, the way her pretty blue eyes and sweet smile lightened my heart a little, the way her very lovely scent made me think of sunshine, and I most certainly wasn’t thinking about what her bare body must’ve looked like covered in sweat as we-

‘Fuck,’ I thought catching myself mid fantasy, ‘I’m a little hopeless, aren’t I?’

Don’t answer that.

KA-BOOM!

Suddenly a thunderous explosion down in the town ripped me from my thoughts, the paddle boat was a smoking inferno.

“Here we go, Kid,” Mashhad cackled as he shot a couple of Foalbanks.

BZZT! BZZT!

I got out Light and took aim at a mangy mare who was galloping along the walls with a sawed off shotgun in her mouth. As I lined up my sights my PipBuck pinged an alert and the world slowed to a near crawl as my Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell activated. Percentages popped up over the mare’s body parts, showing me where I’d have the best chance to hit. I chose to target her chest, time corrected and the bullets fired.

BLAM! BLAM!

As the bullets sliced through the cold air the first two struck just ahead of the mare, but the third struck her glowing cyst swollen neck, causing her to tumble off the edge down into the murky water twenty feet below.

“Not bad, Kid,” Mashhad shouted over the beams he popped off, killing a few more Foalbanks before he holstered his musket and started to float down to the shore, “Come on.”

I holstered Light and grabbed a hold of the stallion, we drifted down to the tree base and ran up to the gate where Q’osk was firing his machine guns across the metal bridge, Mashhad flew up to the top for a better perch.

I brought up my Eyes Forward Sparkle, a compass spell on my PipBuck that would tell me the direction of anypony relative to me with yellow markers meaning they were neutral and red markers meaning they were hostile. Right now there were seven targets dead ahead. I’d only used the spell a couple of times before, but now I noticed that the marker on Q’osk was green giving me his and Mashhad’s names. I glanced up to Mashhad and noticed that he was marked by green as well but his marker didn’t tell me how high up he was.

“What the?” I mumbled to myself, but was interrupted by Q’osk.

“With me, Stable!” the massive stallion shouted past his helmet and his battle saddle’s trigger, “We clear the town!”

I followed behind him as we crossed, the massive stallion steadily marched forward seemingly unfazed by the bullets that bounced off and dented his armor while Mashhad exchanged shots with snipers on the roofs.

“Irrumator!” Q’osk shouted in between firing his machine guns, bullets ripping through a Foalbanks taking cover in a house.

“We’s eatin’ good t’night!” a skinny stallion up by the church cackled as he shot off his lever action rifle.

Time slowed as I took aim at him, three bullets tore into his chest and one bullet sparked on his rifle. I felt a sharp sting on my foreleg just above my PipBuck and I targeted a second mare covering behind a dumpster holding a lever shotgun in her hooves, I fired a round that blew a small chunk of her head away painting the wall behind her. I fell behind Q’osk to reload Light, as I racked the slide back I spotted a third stallion coming up behind us with a couple of bottles of black liquid with lit rag corks in his mouth.

“Ya done fucked up, Drylandah!” he hollered as he was about to throw the bottle, “Dis is our land!”

My S.A.T.S. was still recharging, I reflexively shot off a couple of rounds at him and nicked a bottle. To my surprise the black liquid went up in flames barbecuing the stallion’s face. He shrieked, stumbling in the mud and ran over to a metal barrel by a house and dunked his head in it causing steam to bloom around him as his limp body crumpled in the mud.

When the smoke cleared, fourteen bullet riddled or burned corpses littered the town street.

Catching my breath I looked around, but I didn't spot any more enemies in the range of my E.F.S. I rolled up my sleeve to check and saw some blood starting to seep out of a shallow graze. I took out the roll of bandages from my saddle bag, tightly wrapped the wound and rolled down my torn sleeve. I’d need better armor if I was going to be doing this frequently.

“Check this house, Stable!” Q’osk shouted, pointing an armored forehoof at a ranch house, “I will cover you!”

I opened the door and vomited into the muddy street as the pungent stench of decay invaded my nostrils. Inside the room was a gruesome scene, six children were tied to soiled mattresses and chained to the old wood walls, they were stripped of their clothing, stained in filth, and obviously they’d all been raped.

“Holy fucking shit!” I hissed to myself.

A scrawny colt weakly glanced up at me, I was horrified to see that his lips had been crudely sewn shut by red thread.

“It’s gonna be ok,” I tried to say through the pungent air, “We’re gonna save you.”

The colt weakly blinked before he glanced over his shoulder at a door in the corner. My E.F.S. told me that there was someone inside, holding Light at the ready, I cracked open the door and peered inside. A bloated stallion was lounging in a rocking chair snoring, the bloody severed head of a filly with her mouth lodged on to his lumpy cock and swollen balls while her limp body was laid on a nearby moldy mattress with a sickening mixture of blood and glowing jizz dribbling from her hindquarters. I pushed the door open and stepped in. Carefully wrapping my magic around the filly’s head, I lifted her off and put her to the side with her body. Silently I pointed Light at the stallion’s genitals and pulled the trigger.

BLAM!

The stallion jumped up screaming and grabbing at the pulpy remains of his crotch as he slumped over on to the floor. He glanced up at me as if just now noticing that I was there he pitifully whimpered something that sounded like a curse.

“Suffer,” I muttered as Light drowned out his words.

BLAM! BLAM!

I carefully picked up the filly’s head and body before I cut the other kids free, but only three of them were still alive, the colt and two fillies (one zebra) followed me out. Tahka had come up from the docks still soaked from the lake, he and Q’osk were turning over the bodies in the street, and his name came up on my E.F.S., but I didn’t pay them any attention.

“What’re you doing, Kid?” Mashhad asked, looking at the children.

“I’m saving them,” I muttered bitterly.

“We’re just here for Kaldi and Jackchip, Kid,” the elderly sniper started almost a little too rehearsed for my liking, tilting his hat down, “Their lives-”

“I’m! Saving! Them!” I shouted, slamming my hoof down hard enough to crack the dirty road with each word, getting Tahka and Q’osk’s attentions, “I don’t give a flying fuck if you all have a problem with it, I’m not leaving them here to suffer at the hooves of these monsters!”

After seeing first hoof what these Swampfolk did to outsiders, I no longer saw them as ponies. No these were parasites festering in the body of a dying beast. And I was going to kill them all.

“The General will have strong words, Kid.”

“I don’t fucking care if he even goes back on our deal, at least I’ll know I did the right thing,” my heart was thumping in my ears, “besides, plans change.”

Q’osk stepped up to the zebra filly and took off his helmet, the filly’s bloodshot eyes widened seeing that the stallion’s stripes matched her’s, Q’osk then asked her something in a strange sounding language and the filly nodded verimently.

“Mashhad,” Q’osk started, turning back to the sniper, “She is Zencori.”

“It doesn’t matter, Q’osk,” the sniper rebutted, “You’ve been banished for a year now-”

“She is Zencori,” the stallion interrupted, staring down the sniper, he berated him for several moments before finally stopping.

“Where’re you from?” Tahka asked the other filly.

She timidly got up and reached out her foreleg mimicking holding up something.

“Friendship City?” Tahka asked, a little shocked, “You’re from Manehattan?”

“Mashhad,” The fighter turned on his squad mate, “We need to help them.”

The sniper looked like he was near his wits end, “Tahka, I know you’re-”

“We can still clear the town and besides, plans change.”

I could’ve kissed Tahka… if he didn’t reek of swamp water.

Mashhad stared at his squad in disbelief for a long moment before finally saying, “I won’t stop you, Kid, but I won’t defend your choices either.”

“Fine,” I muttered looking back at the kids.

The colt was busy looking over the smaller filly who had fresh looking circular burns where her glyph should’ve been.

Tahka got out his knife, “I can cut those stitches for you.”

They looked up at him scared for a moment before the zebra filly took a reluctant shaky step forward.

“Hold still, please,” he requested as he carefully slipped the knife tip between her thin lips and slowly sliced the thread one by one, “Almost done… and there.”

The filly’s lips parted as the last thread was cut, she looked up at him very sheepishly, a lot like how Yarn first looked at me.

“Can you speak?” I asked.

The filly shook her head as she opened her mouth slightly revealing that most of her tongue had been cut out and the stump had been haphazardly cartorized. I looked at the other two who both nodded.

“Great,” I muttered as Tahka cut the threads from the other two, “One more reason to hate these monsters!”

Not that I really needed one.

“Where’re your parents?” Tahka asked the kids.

A filly pointed a forehoof at a building across the street, a mare’s bullet riddled body slumped against the wall beside the door with a lever gun.

“In there?” I asked, the filly nodded.

“There, Mashhad,” Tahka said, “We find their parents and bring them back to Clearview or even the Castrum, simple.”

*** *** ***

Tahka and I entered the building as Q’osk and Mashhad watched the kids outside. The building had rows of miss-matching tables covered in platters full of foul smelling and grilled meat and fat sausages, all leading to a door on the opposite wall. To my stomach’s growing disgust I realized this was the cafeteria.

I took a step inside and three blips suddenly popped up on my E.F.S. as something whizzed past my ear.

“Git outta muh home!” a mare shouted, overturning a table knocking over the platters and spilling the gorey food on the floor.

“Ya done fucked up, ziggas!” a stallion shouted, jumping up from behind a table with a fucking shovel in his mouth as a second mare with a sunken chest brought out a shotgun revolver.

The first mare reloaded a lever rifle and took a second shot at Tahka. Backpedaling out the door, I pulled up Light and shot off a few rounds into the table, two of the rounds splintered the old wood but the third and fourth clipped her head as I hit the floor. Tahka concentrated his fire on the stallion running up with the spear, the first explosion took off his hooves causing him to stumble and slam into a table and the second ripped through a chunk of his neck.

The second mare dropped her shotgun as she backed up from her cover and tried to make a run for the door, “Chop!” but the last rounds from Light’s magazine stopped her dead in her tracks.

I picked myself up from the floor and reloaded Light, looking myself over, I noticed that a bit of blood was seeping through my bandages.

Tahka carefully crossed the room and stopped at the door, “Ready?”

Suddenly a fourth blip appeared and the door slammed open nearly hitting Tahka, a hulking stallion as big as Q’osk wearing a bloody apron with dozens of knives and cleavers came charging out wielding a long bloody knife in his mouth. His forelegs, shoulders and neck were all swollen nearly three times as normal making him look like a wall of muscle covered in rough scaly cysts, massive glowing pink boils and pustules.

“CHOP! CHOP!” the stallion manically shouted.

I reflexively held up Light and shot him twice in his swollen chest, but he kept up his charge colliding squarely into my chest knocking the wind out of me and breaking my concentration on Light. A sharp splitting pain shot through my side as I hit the floor hard, the bone handle of the stallion’s knife was sticking out from under my armor.

The manic chef loomed over me with a sickening grin of rotting teeth, “Choppity chop.”

“Ozzy!” Tahka shouted as he threw himself onto the chef’s back, knocking him to the side into a few tables.

“Choppy!” the bleeding chef shouted in shocked anger, grabbing a knife and trying to slash at the zebra riding him.

Even though Tahka almost danced around the bigger assailant, the chef definitely had strength on his as he bucked his hind hooves into the soldier’s gut causing him to spit up blood.

“Choppy choppity chop chop,” the chef slurred with gut splitting cruelty passed the knife clenched in his teeth.

Ignoring the seven inch blade lodged deep in my innards and the screaming pain in my mind, I feebly grabbed at Light, but suddenly Mashhad grabbed the pistol and shot the chef’s flank.

“CHOP!” the cannibal shouted, dropping the knife and turning on the sniper, eyes flaring.

The sniper emptied Light’s magazine into the chef’s side, but somehow the chef remained standing, if only barely. The stallion glared down the sniper like he was no more than the slabs of cooked meat around us.

“Just fucking die!” I shouted.

The chef didn’t say anything… instead he just stood there unflinchingly, Tahka slowly got up and Mashhad pushed on the stallion, after a tense moment… he collapsed in a bloody heep.

“I think he did, Kid,” Mashhad handed me Light and helped me to my hooves, we staggered out to a smaller building a couple of doors down.

“Careful, Kid,” the sniper said as he helped me onto a bed before leaving.

He came back shortly with a couple bottles of a bubbly bubblegum pink liquid and a roll of bandages in his mouth. In the absolute gray washed misery of this hellhole, the healing potion looked almost comically out of place. The sniper carefully helped me unzip my armor and my suit exposing the bleeding wound to the air.

“Ready?”

I nodded and he yanked out the knife. Whiteness flooded my vision and I think I heard a distant voice screaming in agony before I blacked out.

*** *** ***

When I came to, Mashhad had finished wrapping bandages around me and the healing potion bottles lay empty on the floor.

“You good, Kid?” the sniper asked, patting my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I groaned sitting up slightly, “Thanks.”

“Maybe you should take a moment to rest.”

“No, we still need to find those kids’ parents.”

“They’re dead, Kid.”

I looked up at the sniper for any sign of joking, but he was stoney faced.

“Tahka found them while you were out, skinned and hanging up on meat hooks in that room that chef came from.”

I nodded and looked around the room, it was small with a few dirty beds and medical equipment scattered around. Faded pre-war posters hung on the walls, one of them showed a mare wearing a coat like Saluem’s tending to a fallen bloody soldier while a second offered covering fire from some target with words below the scene with the same pink butterfly and red cross,

Join the Ministry of Peace today and make a difference!

Another poster showed a battleworn soldier with a machine gun holding out a hoof to the viewer with a group of gears and sparks in an apple outline bisected by a sword,

Don’t let them run dry. Buy war bonds today!

Tahka was speaking to the kids a couple of beds down and Q’osk stood guard at the door.

“Hey,” I cocked a hoof at the hulking guard, “You said Q’osk had been banished, why?”

“Yeah, well you see, Kid, you know how the General has his guards watching him?”

I nodded.

“Well, the Caesars had something like that, guards called the Praetorian Order. During the Great War, Praetorians were some of the best soldiers the Caesar had at his command, sending them on sensitive missions that normal soldiers aren’t equipped for. From what I’ve heard, a Praetorian might’ve been responsible for destroying Manehattan during the Last Day.”

“In any case, Praetorian recruits train their whole lives for even a chance at standing by the Caesar's side and once they’re chosen, they serve till their deaths. Because there are only thirteen at any given time, if a recruit wants to be a Praetorian they must kill the one from their tribe to take their place.”

Holy shit, that was… unexpected.

The sniper glanced at Q’osk, “Q’osk served for nearly fifty years, the longest any in the Order has ever served in its almost one thousand year history. He killed a hundred challengers and outlived three Caesars, but finally one day the current Caesar ordered one last challenger to take Q’osk’s place. Upon seeing the challenger though, he refused to fight, so he lost, but then his challenger refused to kill him.”

“Why?” I asked quietly.

“Because she couldn’t bring herself to kill her father.”

I looked over to Q’osk, remembering the mare he’d spoken with back at the Castrum. I couldn’t imagine being forced to kill my family.

“So, Q’osk and Q’ale were both banished and they found their way through the Wastes to us last summer.”

We sat in silence for a while before something suddenly exploded outside bathing everything in orange light, Mashhad jumped up and ran to the door, “A signal flare!”

“What?” I asked, getting up and stepping to the door, a ball of orange light burned in the sky above the town.

“Kid,” Mashhad grabbed me by my shoulder, “We have ten minutes tops before dozens of Foalbanks and Spirites know what else comes galloping out of the woodwork.”

Shit.

*** *** ***

Tahka stayed in the clinic with the children while Q’osk, Mashhad and I ran up to inspect the church, gunfire and explosions came from inside. Q’osk bucked in the door and Mashhad and I filed in only to find the entrance had a single dead Foalbanks with a revolver slumped against the blood covered double doors.

My E.F.S. flashed five more red markers and two new green markers with names, Umeme and Ophia. But Ophia also had her vitals and her body was outlined in my vision.

I opened the doors and was greeted by a very grizzly scene, the skinned hides and severed heads of dozens and dozens of ponies and even a few zebras were pinned up on the walls like sick trophies, thousands of lit candles were melting on the windowsills of the six large broken windows of stained glass frescos of long dead mares.

The slaughtered corpses of a dozen Foalbanks littered the room, some were slumped against wooden pillars holding up a balcony or behind makeshift barricades. A mare was thrown screaming over a balcony dozens of feet up and cracked her head open on a wide stone basin in front of a pair of statues of two mares that had long horns and wings illuminated by the orange light from the signal flare pouring in from a large hole in the ceiling. The mare on the right was made of polished white stone with a blazing sun cutie mark while the shorter one on the left was made of polished black stone and had a crescent moon.

“Celestia and Luna,” I whispered as I approached the statues of the Goddesses.

Why were they here of all places? And why were they so damn clean? I stared up at the two goddess sisters who gave their lives to try to protect my ancestors, I wondered if they were truly watching us or if they’d really abandoned us.

I quickly pushed the thought from my mind.

“Kid,” Mashhad got my attention, nodding to a door behind the statues.

We entered a small back room that was full of supplies, a couple dozen boxes of food, a few drums of water, three dozen racks of guns (mostly revolvers, shotguns, and lever action rifles) and dozens of crates of different ammunition. A bullet riddled bloated mare was slumped in front of a barred door by a steep staircase with a smoking lever shotgun.

After a quick glance around I took a step inside.

BEEP…

What’s that?

BEEP…

I looked around for the source of the sudden sound.

BEEP…

I looked down at the floor and spotted a small orange disk just to the side of the doorframe, a red light was flashing at an increasing speed.

BEEP… BEEP BEEP BEEP!

A Frag Mine!

I dropped Light and focused my magic around the beeping disk and quickly frisbee threw it over my shoulder into the main room just as Mashhad pulled the door shut seconds before it exploded.

BOOM!

The force tore the door off its frame and myself along with it. I was thrown clear across the storage room and slammed into the opposite wall with the door fragments collapsing on top of me, “Ugh!”

Despite the fact that my ears were ringing and my knife wound was buzzing, I was far more shocked than injured. Slowly cracking my eyes, I blinked out the dust before stiffly getting up on my wobbly hooves. I shook off the dust and rubble, thankful for my armor.

I looked around for Mashhad, a few of the shelves had been knocked over spilling their contents on the floor, and the elderly sniper was collapsed under one of them. I didn’t need my E.F.S. to tell that he wasn’t doing very well, the large gash in his side under his wing said enough. I grunted and heaved trying to lift the shelves, but I couldn’t budge it even with my magic.

“What happened?” Q’osk was standing in the open door frame looking around, “I heard an explosion.”

“Help me lift this,” I grunted.

As Q’osk stepped over I stepped aside and grunting with some effort propped the shelves up on his shoulder. I grabbed Mashhad by his collar and dragged him out before Q’osk dropped it, the floor dished slightly under its weight.

CRACK!

“Can you handle this?” Q’osk asked.

“Yes, I’m not a doctor, but I should be fine.”

Q’osk nodded and returned to the main room. I pulled off Mashhad’s coat, pulled out my flask and poured what water remained into the gash. I focused my healing spell into the now cleaner wound, slowly beginning its work stitching up the torn flesh. As I wrapped him in my bandages, I hoped he would survive long enough to get proper care.

I grimaced, my medical skills were somewhat lacking compared to Mom and Grandma as I pulled the coat over the stallion and he cracked open an eye and looked up at me, “Kid?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”

Looking around I found Light still by the door frame, stepping over I picked up the pistol and to my surprise it not only looked unharmed by the damage around me it looked spotless. I felt an odd tingling at the edge of my consciousness, like somebody was tapping on the opposite end of a very long table.

“Kid?” Mashhad’s voice tore me back, I looked over my shoulder, “I said, find Umeme and Ophia, we need to get out of here. Go, Kid!”

I held Light at the ready and quickly climbed the stairs, ending up on the corpse ridden balcony over the main room, below me Tahka had brought in the kids and Q’osk was busy dragging out a few of the barricades.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” I called down.

“We will not leave in time, so we must prepare!” the stallion shouted back.

“Tahka, Mashhad is injured in the next room.”

The stallion nodded and I turned my focus on crossing to the door without stepping on the corpses.

“WHERE IS SHE?!” Umeme’s voice shouted just past the old wood as I pushed it open.

The small room was bathed in orange light, a clean bed tucked in the corner with a quilt made from flannel triangles and a scoped lever action rifle leaned against it with a holster bandolier. The walls were decorated by ancient photographs of long dead ponies and the heads and pelts of exotic animals.

In the center was Umeme and Ophia and… I can’t really say what I was expecting the Foalbanks’ leader, this Jackchip to look like, but somehow I wasn’t expecting the elderly unicorn leaning back in a wheelchair. He had the same cancerous pink cysts, glowing pustrals, and lumpy tumors covering his sunken body as the rest of the Swampfolk here and his horn had a long jagged crack causing it to slant at an odd angle. His black leather jacket hung on his thin shoulders and the pelt of a zebra covered the stumps of his missing hindlegs like a cruel blanket.

“Tell me where she is!” Umeme shouted, grabbing the stallion by his jacket’s collar.

“Ya ziggas broke inta muh home, murder muh kin,” the stallion wrapped gray magic around a clay jug with a cork top, “And now ya have da gaul t’ make demands of me?”

“Umeme, we don’t have time,” Ophia interrupted, placing a hoof on Umeme’s shoulder.

“Ya’d best listen t’ ya whore, zigga!” the stallion cackled.

Umeme’s forehoof struck the stallion’s muzzle with a hard crack, a couple of blackened teeth scattered across the floor.

“Umeme!” Ophia shouted, grabbing him by his forelegs and pulled him back before he could do anything else, I stepped forward to the stallion and stared down at the pathetic creature.

He wiped the blood from his muzzle on his limp jacket sleeve and glanced up at me, “A Stable Dwellah, whatcha doin’ with dese dumb ziggas?”

“Looking at a pathetic leech,” I felt myself say.

“Got some bite in ya?” The stallion cackled again, “Bitterchip’ll break dat outta ya when he gits back.”

“Bitterchip?” I asked, the orange light faded and sputtered out leaving the room mostly dark, “Oh, you mean a really ugly rapist, yeah, you might be waiting for a while.”

“Whatcha ya say?”

“I killed him.”

The stallion stared blankly at me for a long time before it seemed to dawn on him, “YA WHAT!”

A sudden wave of magical energy slammed us back against the walls, shaking the room violently, I couldn’t move! The stallion drew out a long bladed knife as he magically wheeled himself up to me, pressing the blade into my neck. I felt a trickle of blood!

“YA MURDERED MUH BOY?!” the stallion roared, horn flaring with energy, “AH’MA RIP YA LIMB FROM LIMB AND SKIN YA ALIVE!”

He grabbed my foreleg and twisted it around dislocating it. I strained against the magic and pain slicing through my shoulder before spotting Light on the floor by the bed. Focusing my magic as best I could, I slowly pointed the pistol toward the stallion.

“Not so fast,” my heart froze as the stallion took note of what I was doing.

His magic overwhelmed mine and brought up Light and pressed its muzzle into my brow hard enough to draw blood, he grinned cruelly as he telekinetically pulled the trigger. My life flashed passed my eyes.

CLICK!

But nothing happened.

Jackchip looked down at Light in disbelief, he checked the chamber finding it loaded. He tried to murder me again, but the pistol clicked again and again. He racked in a fresh cartridge and fired again, only to hear more clicks.

“Da fucks wrong wit dis piece of shit?!” he bitterly shouted, looking down the barrel.

Thinking quickly, I focused my magic on the trigger, I thought a prayer to the Goddesses, and pulled.

BLAM!

The stallion’s head exploded into bloody chunks painting the window, his magic popped and we collapsed to the floor. My foreleg hung limpy at my side and I struggled to catch my breath. Ophia stepped over, carefully grabbed my foreleg and twisted it back into place the pain gradually lessened. Umeme glared down at the corpse and pumped a couple more rounds from his pistol into it, he picked up the zebra pelt, rolled it up and carefully placed it in his saddle bag.

“Let’s go,” Umeme muttered, picking up his rifle and brushing past me.

“Wait, what about your aunt?”

“Kaldi’s not here,” Ophia answered, handing Light to me.

“What?” I asked, taking my pistol, “You mean after all this?”

“We never guaranteed she’d still be here, it was an educated guess.”

“Then, we wasted our time?” I solemnly asked.

The mare didn’t answer, instead she followed behind Umeme. I looked over at the rifle beside the bed, picking it up and inspecting it. It was in amazing condition without any rust and used a caliber called 45-70 based on the bullets in the bandolier holster and the four small boxes beside it, each had a six pointed star with words on it,

Silver Star’s 45-70
20 rounds.

I slipped them into my saddle bag before slipping the bandolier on and adjusted it to fit better and slipped the rifle into the holster at my side above my saddle bag. I had a strong feeling I was gonna need a stronger weapon than just Light if I was gonna be fighting more tonight.

My PipBuck pinged, it labeled the rifle as a Brush Gun.

*** *** ***

Though Umeme walked to the stairs wordlessly, I had a strong feeling that he was beyond furious.

“What happened?” Tahka asked as we entered the storage room, “Where’s Kaldi?”

Umeme brushed past him and the kids without a word with Ophia following.

“Jackchip’s dead,” I answered.

Mashhad groaned as he stood up, “And Kaldi?”

“Not here.”

The sniper lowered his hat, “Spirits guide her.”

“Well, at least we can get the kids back,” Tahka half-heartedly muttered.

As we left the room to join Q’osk, I noticed a rustling sound behind me when I reached the doorframe. Glancing around the destroyed room I couldn’t see what it was so I stepped back and flicked on my E.F.S. a couple of yellow blips flickered to my right behind some crates with red triangles painted on them. I heard some more rustling sounds as I pulled out Light and stepped up. I wrapped a crate in my magic and pushed it aside finding the source.

A small colt struggled to hold up a large revolver in his mouth and a small filly sat trembling in a puddle that smelled like piss.

“Are you two ok?” I asked.

The kids didn’t answer for some reason, instead the colt stared up at me with mixtures of what looked like anger but mostly fear while the filly pressed her face into the colt’s shoulder. In the dim light of the room I finally noticed something very wrong about them, they had small tumors and cysts ebbing just under their coats and manes.

Lowering Light, I stared down at the kids trembling below me, they were Foalbanks!

A thought struck me in that moment, despite how many stallions and mares we’d killed here, I hadn’t seen a single Foalbanks kid!

Saluem’s words flooded my mind again, the way she had nearly cried when she confided in me. All of my anger toward these parasites faltered as the filly started to sob into the colt’s shoulder, did these kids really deserve the same punishment as the rest of their family?

Or would it be even worse to leave them alive to fend for themselves alone? What were their crimes?

I glanced over my shoulder and after making sure I was alone, moved the crates back covering up the kids.

“Stay quiet,” I muttered and turned to leave.

Only to see Ophia standing silently in the door frame glaring me down.

“Uh… Something wrong?” I asked, trying my best to not appear suspicious.

The mare stayed silent as she glanced from me to the crates, a shiver sparked up my spine as I realized she knew what I was doing!

“What did you find?” the mare demanded, pointing a forehoof at the crates.

“Uh, there was some medical supplies I used on Mashhad, I thought I could find some more.”

“Leave the supplies here,” the mare ordered me in a low voice, “The Foalbanks sometimes poison what they’ve stolen to kill desperate Drylanders. We need to prepare.”

With that, the mare turned and left, I slowly released a breath I hadn’t known that I’d been holding in when she was out of earshot.

When I stood in the main room, I glanced back at the statues of the Goddesses, “I suppose I couldn’t blame either of you if you really have abandoned us.”

*** *** ***

Outside, Tahka was busy moving corpses around the street in odd places leading up to the church, Q’osk was setting up barricades at odd intervals, Mashhad was checking sightlines while Umeme and Ophia were talking.

“It’s not your fault, Umeme,” Ophia whispered, placing a forehoof on his shoulder, “We’ll find her.”

I stepped up to them, “What’re you doing?”

Umeme stiffly turned to me, “Where were you?”

I blinked a couple of times at the sudden outburst, “Supporting Mashhad, like you told me?”

“Umeme,” Ophia interrupted, standing herself between us, “He isn’t to blame.”

“Then go help Tahka,” the stallion muttered, his face flushed in anger, “enough to worry about without those damn kids.”

I shook my head as I walked down the street to Tahka, “What’re you doing?” I asked cautiously this time.

“Traps,” the stallion explained as he planted a frag mine in the mud and carefully dropped a corpse over it, “Raiders do stuff like this all the time in the Heartlands.”

“So how does it work?” I asked as the stallion prepped another mine, “You move the corpse and set off the explosive?”

“Right on the bucks,” the stallion muttered as he moved another corpse into place in front of the cafeteria.

“How long have you been here?”

“With the Outcasts?” the stallion zoned out for a second before answering, “Maybe a decade now, definitely before Tyn was born.”

“What did you do before?” I levitated a corpse as he planted the land mine.

“I was in a gang down in Manehattan, we would hit travelers mostly and this one time I rigged up a baby carriage with explosives and Maddyx had the idea of putting a dead foal and a recording of crying to seal the deal, we killed some dumb mare with it.”

The stallion chuckled to himself for a while before I continued, “Why did you stop?”

The stallion looked up from the mine, “I saw one of your Goddesses.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you what, if we survive this I’ll tell my life’s story over some drinks.”

“Sounds fair.”

I sat down by the clinic and prepared myself, I opened the brush gun’s loading gate and chamber, upon seeing the magazine tube under the sixteen inch long hexagonal barrel was empty I loaded in bullets one at a time counting each one, by the end I counted eleven bullets plus one in the chamber.

The group got in position and prepared their weapons. I held up the brush gun and looked through the scope. The swamp beyond the bridge had gone unnervingly still, I felt my heartbeat thump in my ears. Suddenly a signal flare shot up and a ball of orange burned in the sky as a wild howling shot through the trees.

“Get ready!” Umeme shouted.

I looked through the scope again and saw dozens and dozens of shadows illuminated by the flare cautiously approaching Tahka and Q’osk’s positions. Just as the first of the Foalbanks reached Tahka’s traps, he set them off.

BOOM! BOOM!

Fire and rubble and mangled bodies flew up across the bridge and Q’osk got up and fired on the horde as they fell back. The Foalbanks charged the bridge, and we opened fire. The brush gun kicked into my shoulder with every S.A.T.S. aided shot, the 45-70 rounds were almost thunderous compared to Light. I fired all twelve shots and struck six targets but only killed four, quickly reloading the gun I racked the lever and took aim at the horde. I fired all my shots again and killed seven targets this time. A few shots hit my barricade and I ducked down and reloaded.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

More of Tahka’s traps went off slightly slowing down the horde, Tahka jumped over the barricade with Mashhad who then fell back to Umeme and Ophia’s barricade. I covered Q’osk as he ran up to my own barricade, four more Foalbanks collapsed and were trampled by those behind them. Q’osk had just reached me when I noticed something flying up behind the stallion, striking him and sending me flying back.

BOOM!

I felt my body slam into the mud, tasted blood in my mouth, and every inch of my body burned and protested, my eyes flew open and I looked around. Through the fire and smoke I thought I saw Tahka grappling in the mud with a Foalbanks for a shovel spear, Umeme might’ve been covering Ophia from a flanking group, I swore I heard the crackling pop of Mashhad’s musket return beams with a sniper on a roof and I know I saw Q’osk lying a ways down from me.

I pulled my stubborn hooves under me and dragged my limp body through the mud and blood and over the mangled corpses of slain Foalbanks.

“Q’osk!” I felt myself shout, shaking at the stallion but he didn’t respond, his armor had caved deeply into his side where he’d been struck by that explosive.

“Run, Stable!” the stallion weakly grunted, “I am dead weight!”

“No, think about your daughter!”

“Run!” he weakly shouted before he slumped in the mud.

A red heat flooded my vision and something heavy thudded in my ears making the world nearly silent as everything slowed to a near standstill.

I unhooked one of Q’osk’s machine guns from the battle saddle, grabbed the grip in my mouth and glared down the charging horde of filthy parasites as they reached the bridge. These filthy parasites who raped, murdered, and even ate anyone who wasn’t one of them.

“CELESTIA AND LUNA GANG RAPE YOU ALL WITH THEIR HORNS!” a voice shouted as I bit down on the trigger.

I didn’t even aim, I just held down the trigger as a silent hornet storm of lead ripped into them. Blood, innards, and mangled bodies flew every which way. I don’t remember how long the storm lasted, a minute maybe just shy of an eternity, but the machine gun eventually ran out of bullets and the barrel was left glowing a bright white, smoking in the cold air.

I released the gun, my vision and hearing slowly returned as the world sped up back to normal. As exhaustion and blood loss finally slammed into me, I willingly embraced the darkness.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

I felt an odd weightlessness as I opened my eyes and looked around, I was sitting on a chair in a featureless space. I stood and the chair vanished.

“Who are you?” a surprised voice asked behind me.

Whirling around I spotted a middle aged looking pegasus mare dressed in an old but well cared for looking Enclave uniform with three silver stars on a black patch on her collar.

She was sitting behind a desk with a terminal and a framed photograph of a pair of colts flanking a younger version of the mare sitting before me. She was holding a clipboard with papers in her forehoof, she looked up at me incredibly confused. Her heavily silver streaked dark fuschia mane was long and pulled into a tri braid that was tied off with an old red ribbon and pulled over her shoulder. It complimented her light lilac coat and light cerulean eyes.

“How the hell did you get in here?” the mare shouted briskly, pulling out a 45 Auto pistol, “Guards! Guards!”

“What?” I asked, looking around I wasn’t in the space anymore, against all probability and I still question how this exactly happened, I was in an old looking office room, glancing out a window to my side and saw a sprawling ruined cityscape overgrown with foliage and streets flooded with dark water.

“Lieutenant General! Ma’am, are you alright?” A couple of swift bangs came from the door behind the desk before it slammed open and three pegasi guardponies wearing matching uniforms burst in and drew modified magical energy rifles at me.

“Shit!” I shouted, diving out of the way just as three orange beams popped and scorched the place I had been mere seconds before.

I reached to pull out Light, but to my horror I was unarmed, just my stable suit. In my moment of confusion, one of the guards popped an orange beam that hit me squarely in my shoulder.

BZZT!

I screamed in agony as the orange beam melted through the leather of my suit and roasted into my flesh, leaving a nasty smell in the burnt air and the mare and her guards were on top of me in another flash of orange light.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

My eyes shot open and I looked around frantically, I wasn’t in the office anymore, I wasn’t surrounded by pissed off soldiers anymore.

No, somehow I was back in Dela Crow on one of the beds in the clinic. The blaring pain in my shoulder was gone and I felt fine. Even if that was a crazy dream, it felt far too real.

“You’re alive,” Umeme was sitting in a chair beside me, “Had us worried there.”

“Umeme?” I asked, sitting up on my elbow, “What happened?” My body felt far better and I noticed Mashhad and the children were sitting about the room, “Where’s Q’osk?”

“We won, that’s what happened, but… we lost Q’osk,” the stallion admitted solemnly, “His wounds were too deep for the sparse supplies here and he wouldn’t have made it to the Castrum.”

“What?” I asked, noticing the shape hidden under a bed sheet, I felt a strange hollowness stab my heart.

“We found a wagon, so we’ll bring him back for a proper burial… and for Q’ale to say her goodbyes, of course.”

“I’m sorry-” I tried to say.

“No,” The stallion held up a hoof, “This was my doing, if we’d just looked for Aunt Kaldi instead of wiping out the town, Q’osk would still be alive.”

There was a hard pain in his voice and a weariness in his eyes. “We leave in an hour’s time,” He helped me up, “Thank you for being there with him in his last moments, Ozzy.”

My heart wanted to help him, but my brain couldn’t think of anything to say that might ease the pain of his squad mate’s passing.

I took the hour of peace to look inside a side room, it had an old desk with a couple bookcases full of ancient rotting books and a terminal. Between the shelves of one of the bookcases was a locked case of thick glass with the bones of a pegasus skeleton inside. The name Dock Fair-in-height was written in an old black marker below the lock.

I glanced over the books, many of them were volumes of something called The Canterlot Journal of Health, about pre-war medicine, techniques for surgery, and applying healing spells with a great number of notes written in the margins. Another book was called L Weber’s Guides to the Horseshoe Bay and the Hayseed Swamp which was about the local plant life and how they could be used in medicine. Flipping it open I found a message written on the inside cover,

Doctor Fahrenheit,

I always knew you’d have a glorious future ahead of you, I mean, Head Researcher for the Ministry of Peace? Especially so soon after ending your stay at Meadowbrook Memorial up in Baltimare, marvelous, simply marvelous. I expect to hear amazing things from you.

Doctor Brierberry

Of all the books that caught my attention though was a gray tome with a black pony skull on the cover, opening it to the cover page I read, The Wasteland Survival Guide, North Shore Edition. By Ditzy Doo.

I levitated the books that were in the best condition off the shelves and carefully placed them in my saddle bag, three in total. Saluem would make the best use of these no doubt and I still had my two hundred buck debt to her to consider.

I turned on the terminal, most of the information was corrupted beyond retrieval, but there were a hoof-full of entries in the whole list I could access, one toward the top was dated about a year before the Last Day and the last one was dated decades after.

Terminal of Doctor Fahrenheit, Former Head Researcher of the Ministry of Peace

Entry 1

I’m going to die here, aren’t I?

I’ve practiced medicine for almost fifty years now, I’ve single-hoofed save hundreds of soldiers in her Highnesses armies and had a Ministry’s worth of funding to experiment with, now I’m stuck in some backwater town full of inbred Pajun Creole hics in a fucking swamp trying to deal with Pink Flu while the rest of my fellows are busy with the MoP!

All because some fucking no name intern from some pathetic rock farm town had the absolute gaul to feel offended when I had ‘allegedly’ asked her out on a date and claimed to authorities that I ‘supposedly’ took ‘liberties’ without her consent?

The fucking cunt and her friend were even grinning when they fired me!

Funny how life fucks you.

If there’s any justice left in the world, Peachy Pie will suffer!

The Mayor, Drawchip, has been very accommodating yes, but the old geezer still thinks that leeches can cure Tuberculosis!

I’m going to die here, aren’t I?

At least I won’t have to listen to Redheart bitch anymore.

Entry 142

Apparently, Hippocampus Energy is building pumps to get at the oil and natural gas deposits all over the Swamp. A lot of towns and families are furious. The Knifes, the Packers, the Onions, the Chukk-chukks, the Lyres, the Ballery, the Leathernecks, and now even Mayor Chips have requested that I assist them in taking down the company to save their land from a possible disaster like down in Fillydelphia and over in Detrot.

My knowledge of Prench Creole is mostly academic and he didn’t like my answer that I’m a stallion of medicine and not a soldier, but he did accept it.

I know that coal prices are steep and Equestria needs the infrastructure if we’re going to win the War, but I’ve seen Hippocampus’ track record for employee injuries and environmental problems. What could Mayor Rumble be thinking?

Entry 150

I heard the army’s setting up a pow camp somewhere south of here.

Entry 193

My understanding of Prench Creole was mostly academic curiosity, but over the last few months of exposure to the native speakers, most of who have little experience with speaking Ponish, my vocabulary of the unique hybrid language has expanded enough for me to converse with my patients.

From what I’ve found, the language is a hybrid of a few different sources: its basis is Prench, spoken by the settlers of New Horseleans who spread across the Hayseed Swamp establishing the Kingdom of New Prance before it fell to Mareidian and was brought into Equestria. Then Ponish and various zebra dialects heavily influenced the grammar and spelling. Making the language very distinct from modern Prench.

Entry 211

This is it then.

I just heard the news. First New Horseleans was wiped out, then Detrot apparently collapsed into its mining tunnels, then Whinnyapolis and St Haul both got hit, and now I’m hearing that Canterlot, Fillydelphia, and possibly even Manehattan all got hit too.

Redheart, if you’re somehow still alive, I never got the chance to say how sorry I am that I acted like such a cunt during the divorce. I just wasn’t ready to be a father.

I wish I could see you one last time.

Entry 289

A large group of zebras came by today, Mayor Chips was on the verge of having a heart attack.

A soldier, Amandla Darius Tertius, spoke for the group claiming that they had come from the Turtledove Detention Center. They had been traveling for days and have sick/wounded with them and needed shelter and supplies. Mayor Chips allowed them a single night and allowed me to treat those I could.

I spoke with them as I worked, from what I could understand, my understanding of their different dialects is limited, most of them are civilians running away from the Fires of Daybreaker that are still consuming their homeland or their parents had been Equestrian citizens that were accused of treason by the MoM and were imprisoned at the detention center with actual soldiers.

Darius confided in me that his grandfather, Amandla Umeme Primus, had fought in one of the Battles of Stalliongrad and had been saved by the first megaspell.

Entry 3108

Mayor Chips died last night, one hundred and thirteen is a rare achievement now. His grandson, Applechips, is going to be named the next mayor… Pink Flu might finally be gone now….

Entry 4097

Still no word of any surviving cities, the Heartlands is still far too irradiated to go much further south than the edge of the Applelachian Mountains… have gotten a few sparse radio signals from New Horseleans and possibly even from Baltimare, but nothing too concrete…

Entry 5673

Why were we spared?

Cloudsdale… Canterlot… Manehattan… Fillydelphia… Stalliongrad… Trottingham… Detrot... Chicoltgo... New Horseleans... Whinnyapolis and St Haul…

We’re just shy of eight hundred miles from the border, so why didn’t they use a megaspell against us?

Why were we spared?

Entry 9040

I’m feeling weaker and weaker by the day now, I wanna believe it’s radiation sickness, but I know that’s bullshit. I’ve tried to write as much helpful information as I could for them to survive in this broken world.

This is Doctor Fahrenheit, formerly of Cloudsdale, signing off.

As I closed out of the terminal, a pain shot in my chest. I glanced at the skeleton in the bookcase, maybe I should just let the past be the past. I left the room and pulled on my gear, Light and the brush gun felt more comforting now.

I stepped out onto the muddy street and looked around, Umeme was talking with Nask by the bridge, Tahka and Ophia were dumping Foalbanks corpses into a smoldering fire in front of the church that sputtered black smoke into the early morning grayness and digging graves for the dead kids.

I stepped into the church and went to the storage room, I moved the crates and to my relief the Foalbanks kids weren’t there and the barred door had been left ajar slightly. I let out a breath, hopeful that they’d find safety.

I turned to rejoin the others and found Ophia standing in the doorframe.

“Did you need something?” I asked, nervousness lacing my words.

“I knew you’d be weak,” The mare growled as she crossed the room, “I knew that you wouldn’t be able to do what was needed.”

I quickly thought of drawing Light on her, but Umeme would’ve killed me, “Look, killing adults who made the consious choice to murder and rape is one thing, but never ask me to kill a young child, if that makes me weak, then so be it.”

“Do you think the Foalbanks spawn into existence like the demons of ancient fairy tales?” the mare asked in a low voice, grabbing my collar and pushing me back against the wall, “Where do you think Jackchip came from?!”

“Did… you kill them?” I asked hesitantly.

The mare shook her head, “Didn’t need to, timberwolves will make short work of them.”

“Are you Kids behaving yourselves?” Mashhad’s voice interrupted, the sniper stood in the doorway along with Umeme, Tahka and the kids.

“This doesn’t concern you, Mashhad,” Ophia bitterly spat.

“Ophia,” Umeme crossed the room and placed a hoof on her shoulder, “Stand down.”

“No!” the mare’s voice cracked slightly and her grip on my collar loosened, “Q’osk would still be alive if he-”

“Ophia,” Umeme calmly insisted, the mare released me and pressed her face into the stallion’s shoulder and started to cry, the room fell silent and the mare’s weeping was the only sound for a long time.

I noticed a bumping sound coming from the other side of the wall with the bookcase, I flipped on my E.F.S. and noticed a blip behind it. Pushing the bookcase out of the way and opening the door I peered inside and saw a wall of cramped jail cells, the blip was in the last cell in the corner.

I flicked on my flashlight and shined its beam into the cells. My flashlight lit up the bloodied body of a dark gray unicorn stallion huddled in the corner, he was covered in the same cancerous cysts and glowing tumors that all of the Foalbanks had. He lifted a swollen foreleg nearly three times normal, the glowing tumors across his upper body split open and dozens of eyes of every color glared at me.

I screamed, jumping backward against the wall, “What the fuck are you?!”

“Ya got water in da brain?” the Swampfolk growled, slamming his body hard against the cell door making it shake, “Shut off the fuckin’ light!”

“Kid?” Mashhad stood in the doorway, “What happ-wait, Argus?”

“Mashhad,” The stallion looked over at the sniper and the squad, “Ah should’a figured dat ruckus last night was y’all.”

“What’re you doing here?” the sniper asked.

Argus leaned back from the door and looked away, “Ya know why.”

“Where did they take Aunt Kaldi?” Umeme asked.

Argus closed many of his eyes and hung his head, “Sturmkaller.”

Who?

“The Regulators?” Ophia muttered as the group slumped at the news.

Who?

“Shit!” Umeme shouted, slamming his hoof against the cell door.

“Who’s this Sturmkaller?” I finally asked, “And who’re the Regulators?”

The squad looked up at me for a long time before Mashhad spoke, “The Regulators control the Old Circle north of the Swamp from Neightick, they used to be like us keeping the road clear and the trade flowing between Baltimare and the Twin Brothers, Whinnyapolis and St Haul.”

“A few months ago though, a pegasus calling herself Sturmkaller killed the previous leader, everybody who didn’t agree with her, and turned the rest into slavers,” Umeme continued, “We have an agreement with her to live and let live, she doesn’t disturb us, we don’t disturb her.”

“No way we’re getting Kaldi now,” Tahka muttered.

There was a darkness that washed over the group.

“What about me?” I asked, the squad looked up at me again, “Well, you all can’t go to this Sturmkaller, but I’m not an Outcast, I could go in, find Kaldi, and get her out.”

The group looked amongst themselves for a long while before Umeme stood and placed a hoof on my shoulder, “I cannot possibly thank you enough for this, Ozzy.”

“Just keep your end of our bargain.”

Level Up: Trait Acquired: Wild Wasteland: Maybe you’re suffering from a blow to the head or the Wasteland is starting to get to you… I’m sure it’s nothing… too worrying… for now.

Chapter Five

Chapter Five
“That sorta thing is just bad for business… bad all the way around.”

We made our way up the Long Stretch, Umeme and Tahka pulling the wagon carrying the corpses, the kids and Argus, Ophia took up in front and Mashhad and I flanked the sides.

Before we left I had looked over the Foalbanks’ guns on the racks, having picked out the cream of the crop. I was now carrying two very heavy duffle bags over my shoulders containing five lever action rifles and six shotguns, three dozen revolvers of 357 Magnum, 38 Special, 44 Special and Magnum, 45 Long, and 45-70 and enough ammunition to sell.

Argus carried one revolver in a holster under his chest with a few spare magazines and a double barrel shotgun. I learned that the stallion was a Foalbanks, but at least not in the way that Jackchips and Bitterchips had been. Apparently his mom was from a long dead family further south near the ruins of New Horseleans and she was kidnapped by the Foalbanks when she was a filly, but she died shortly after he was born.

Years later he was taken prisoner by the Outcasts when they captured a massive chunk of Foalbanks Land, he met Kaldi and the two became friends, married and had Prysm over a decade or so ago.

*** *** ***

The hours rolled by slowly as we trudged down the road and it was close to midnight when we reached the safety of Clearview’s walls. We were greeted by the townsfolk and about five hundred Outcasts led by Legate Eadayiy.

“Legate Amandla, the General sent us to assist you and your squad, but it seems as though you have already taken care of everything, again.”

“It seems so, Legate Eadayiy,” Umeme returned with similar coldness, “Of course you’re used to coming late, aren’t you?”

From the way he almost savored his words, I could tell the two stallions had a shared dislike of the other.

A few of his soldiers snickered and the Legate briskly ordered those soldiers to take over pulling the wagon for Umeme and Tahka before we continued on to the Castrum. It was late in the morning the next day when we finally reached the gate, a lot of Outcasts came out to greet us and cheer our return but the fanfare halted almost immediately when they saw the wagon.

Saluem pushed her way through the crowd and checked on each of us before reaching me, “What happened?”

“Q’osk… He’s dead,” I mumbled, staring at the ground, “t-they had a m-missile launcher-”

“It’s not your fault, Ozzy,” the mare quietly reassured me, placing a hoof on my shoulder and pulled me into a firm hug, I slowly returned it and my heart felt a little better.

“Let me through! Let me through!” a voice shouted as Q’ale pushed her way through the crowd, but she stopped in her tracks upon seeing the wagon.

Umeme tried to speak with her but she pushed past him and stared at her father’s shrouded corpse, she placed her hoof on the sheet and her lips started to tremble. A shorter zebra stallion came to her side and wrapped his foreleg over her shoulders, the mare broke down into sobs as she was taken away.

“Papa!” Prysm shouted as she ran through the crowd and jumped into Argus’ arms.

“Sugar Cube!” the stallion shouted as he held the filly tightly.

The crowd parted and the General and a few of his guards stepped up, he looked over the wagon, the kids, then us before stopping on his son. Umeme stood there staring up at the giant stoically.

“Your room, now,” the General growled coldly, Umeme stoically stepped into the crowd and entered the Castrum.

“Lucius,” Saluem started, but the General held up a hoof to stop her.

“Inside now.”

*** *** ***

We all stood in the General’s court room, the General listened as we explained what happened, about how Umeme changed the plans, how I insisted on saving the enslaved kids, how we cleared the town, Jackchip’s and Q’osk’s deaths, and finding Argus. Saluem stood beside him and her ears perked up when Ophia declared that I couldn’t kill the Foalbanks kids.

The General wasn’t happy, “Where is she then?”

“Sturmkaller,” Argus answered, the room murmured quietly, “Uncle Jack had Shortstops take her up to the Regulators to sell for better firepower.”

“You’re certain?” The General stared down at his brother-in-law, “Then what do you plan?”

“You know damn well, Lucius,” the Swampfolk growled angrily.

“Argus, think about this,” the General warned, “Prysm just got you back after nearly four years.”

“And now Ah’m gittin’ Kaldi back, even if Ah gotta pluck the fuckin’ wings off that cunt.”

Well, at least I knew where Prysm got her vocabulary from.

The General called my attention, “Yes, Sir?”

“Ozzy, tomorrow you will assist Umeme and Argus, you have four days.”

‘Just hold up your end of the bargain,’ I thought, “Of course, General.”

The General turned to one of his guards and ordered him to bring Umeme, Saluem tried to argue with him but he shot her down. After a few minutes Umeme came into the room, a couple of guards restrained his forelegs as a third stripped him of his uniform.

“Umeme, my Legate, my son,” the General started, Umeme stood there stoically, “You may have destabilized the Foalbanks for the foreseeable future and recovered your mother’s pelt, but in doing so, Q’osk was killed in the following onslaught, what do you say in your defense?”

Umeme looked up into his father’s eye and asked, “Is it any different than what you did?”

Every Outcast in the room went stone cold as the General stepped forward inches from Umeme’s face, “I did not get my squad killed when we purged the Leathernecks.”

The General leaned back and grabbed a lance from a guard, the point sparked with magical energy as the giant slammed the point into Umeme’s chest. A swarming cloud of yellow and white sparks slammed into the young stallion, burning down to his hide and filling the room with a sickening smell of burnt hair and flesh.

Umeme didn’t scream or grunt in pain at first, but soon it was too much for him to bear and he let out the most blood chilling cry filled with so much pain and anguish I still haven’t heard anything like it to this day. The General only stopped and pulled back his weapon when he had carved a runic symbol over Umeme’s heart that vaguely resembled an eagle.

“Rise, Speculatores,” the General rumbled with a low voice, there was a collective gasp as Umeme somehow slowly got to his hooves, “You have five days.”

“Yes… my General,” Umeme struggled to say before he turned and left the room followed closely by Ophia and Saluem.

*** *** ***

I sold all of the guns and ammunition I didn’t need to some merchants and they gave me just over a couple thousand bucks. I was left with Light and the brush gun with enough ammunition for both.

I looked down at the small gold coins, they were about the size of pre-war bits with one, five, twenty and one hundred dollar coins. The faces had the same words around the outline of a seven pointed star each tipped with a small five pointed star with the dollar value, the words said: GiatÍ o Pólemos Polemátai gia aftó pou Pistéveis.

‘Because war is fought for what you believe,’ I realized the language was the same as what was written on Light and I questioned yet again how I knew that.

The tail of each coin was decorated with a different image, the one dollar had the portrait of an earth pony stallion with the words, Y. Evergreen, First High Councilor. The five dollar had a scene of ponies and zebras wearing armor and overlooking the distant ruins of a large cityscape with the words, The Time of Emergence. The twenty dollar had a battlefield where hundreds of armor encased soldiers fought with the words, The First Emergence War. Finally the one hundred dollar had the shape of a very tall spire outlined by a shining sun with the words, The Future.

Arhem had stitched up my suit and reinforced the hoofball pads of my armor with shoulder pauldrons and foreleg guards made of shaped blued and blackened steel to better match with my suit. He assured me that it would offer better protection from intermediate caliber firearms, shrapnel and blunt force trauma compared to just my armor and my suit. I paid him for his work, around four hundred bucks.

“Hey, Ozzy,” Tahka called to me across the cafeteria, I sat down beside the stallion and Prime Axius, the bandages on his foreleg had been removed, “How about that drink?”

Axius handed me a bottle filled with red clear fluid, a quick sip told me that it was some kind of spicy wine, “So you were gonna tell me about yourself.”

“Right, well one day years ago my gang had just extorted a trading caravan near some slum town called Arbu… I think, anyway, we made our way back across the Harbor to our hangout, a tall apartment building that was half slumping into the irradiated seawater. When we got there we found HER.”

“Her?” I glanced at Axius who shrugged.

“Her,” Tahka repeated like I was supposed to understand, “Despite how many thousands of miles I’ve put between myself and Manehattan, I’ll never forget Her.”

“She looked like a twisted visage of Celestia, tall, dark green mane and coat, long spiraled horn, massive wings, deathly graceful and her fucking laugh, I’ll never forget the cruelty in her laugh when she slaughtered my old gang. Gudd got lifted up and ripped him in half, we tried to fight back but our weapons did nothing against her magic. I hid under a desk and nearly pissed myself, I was so scared.”

“Finally, Maddyx shouted at me to run for it before she rushed Her with a balefire egg. She nailed her with an I beam in response, but Maddyx had thrown the egg at Her before her death, I had just barely made it outside when the explosion rocked the building and brought the remaining upper floors down on Her, I like to think She died.”

He took a swing of his drink before continuing, “Taking the event as a sign, I packed up some supplies and left to find a better life. I traveled to a place called The Nest, used to be an old griffon Talon base before some mare killed some Talon leader called Malys Grimfeathers. I followed the caravan trails and eventually met Cydia Chukk-chukk down at the Palatine, the rest is history.”

*** *** ***

After sharing a drink, I continued aimlessly walking around the Castrum for hours, many Outcasts congratulated me for killing Jackchips. I thought about what I was gonna do after getting Kaldi back, what if the General didn’t give me the information and demanded I join his forces? What if his information didn’t help me? What could I do with it anyways? I couldn’t just wander around the Wastes praying to stumble upon Mom… could I? Or maybe I should join the Outcasts and settle down here?

I didn’t know.

“Hello there, Handsome,” a voice caught my attention, I had been so absorbed by my thoughts I didn’t even notice that I was standing in front of a large wooden shack labeled as Bathhouse with a mare dressed in scanty clothing that accented her curves.

“Hello there,” the mare beckoned me, “A handsome buck like you has some nerve being lonely tonight.”

“What… ah do you mean?” I asked, blushing slightly and looking away.

“How cute,” the mare giggled, “Just ten drachme or twenty bucks and I’ll make you forget all your troubles for the night.”

I blushed a little more as I realized what she was implying.

“Livian,” Saluem muttered dryly.

“Oh, good evening, Saluem,” the mare-of-the-evening greeted Saluem with equal dryness in her voice, “I don’t usually see you over here.”

“Only when I need to treat your… customers,” turning her gaze to me she whispered, “My brother wants to speak with you.”

“I’m quite certain our illustrious leader could see him in the morning before he goes and saves that mud dancing sister of yours,” Livian interrupted, holding onto my foreleg.

“It involves the information you wanted,” Saluem whispered into my ear, more insistently.

“I’m very sorry, uh… Ms Livian, but I’ll have to decline your… generous services for tonight.”

Livian acted like she was disappointed, but she thankfully released my foreleg, “Oh alright, but don’t be a stranger, Mr Stable Dweller.”

“Thank you,” I muttered to Saluem when we were out of earshot.

“She’s a real piece of work,” the mare whispered, “Two of her kids play with Prysm and now she has Yellow Pox.”

I resisted the sudden urge to vomit at that news, note to self avoid all mares-of-the-evening in the future. We stopped at her hut and she ushered me inside.

“I take it you lied about the General, huh?” I asked, turning back to the healer.

“Pretty obvious, I guess,” she half chuckled, “Your armor looks better now, almost proper.”

I thanked her and we stood there in awkward silence before a thought dawned on me, “How’s Umeme doing?” I asked, “And the kids?”

“He’ll carry that mark for the rest of his life, but he will survive, I’ve sealed it so infection is unlikely. Those kids however will require time to heal mentally, they might even suffer for the rest of their lives, but we will take care of them.”

“Oh right, I almost forgot,” I said, digging through my saddle bag and pulling out the books.

Saluem stared down at them in awe, “Ozzy, how did you-”

I shrugged, “Found some bookcases full of them in Dela Crow, these were in the best conditions.”

The mare looked over the covers with reverence as she carefully opened The Canterlot Journal of Health to the cover page,

“To my beloved Fahrenheit,

Do you remember when you asked me on our first date so many years ago? That was when I knew we were destined for each other. Even though our love may have soured over the War, I still think back on those days with such fondness.

I hope to see you one last time,

Your Redheart.”

She flipped to another page, “There’s hundreds of notes in the margins, this doctor was incredibly methodical.”

“There’s also this book,” pulling out the Wasteland Survival Guide, “I haven’t checked it yet.”

“Ditzy Doo!” Saluem exclaimed, taking the book from me, “My granduncle told me stories about how he guided a mare who called herself Ditzy Doo around the North Shore writing a survival guide for the Wasteland, I always thought he was joking though.”

She looked over the book for several moments, “I wonder if she’s still alive.”

“You can have them,” I explained, “I figured you’d make the best use of them, also as payment for saving my life… and stuff.”

“Thank you, Ozymandias,” Saluem placed a hoof on my foreleg, “You have no idea how helpful these will be.”

We sat in silence again for a while before Saluem closed the books and stood up.

“I also wanted to thank you for all you’ve done,” she explained in a warm voice as she sauntered over to her chest, riffled through it for a moment, and pulled out a bottle of dark red wine and two old glasses, “I’ve been saving this for a special day.”

We sat and enjoyed the wine as we read the books for a time before setting them aside and laughed and shared stories of our childhoods.

I learned that she was the youngest of her siblings, her brother was the oldest and Kaldi was almost ten years her senior, making her only seven years older than me. She had learned a lot of her medical knowledge from traveling Wasteland doctors, the most helpful if not the most pompous and arrogant of which came from a place up in Haagenheim called City Seventeen.

I told her how I was the last student in my class to get my cutie mark, because who in their right mind would give a colt a gun? She laughed at that and playfully pushed on my shoulder. As the evening went on and the bottle emptied, her jokes became more and more intimate until she was almost hanging on me.

“This was pretty nice,” I whispered, putting my empty glass aside, “But I think I should go get some sleep for tomorrow.”

“You could… you know stay here,” she whispered, leaning closer, “If you’d like.”

I looked up at her, her cheeks were bright red and she was swaying slightly. She leaned back and let her jacket and shirt pool on the floor behind her and she leaned closer to me. I’m sure my face was bright red and steam could’ve been hissing from my ears.

“Uh, you don’t have to do that,” I stammered slightly, scooting back a little, “I mean I’m just helping out to find Doctor Rose, after all.”

“No,” the mare said flatly, placing a hoof on my chest, “you didn’t have to save those kids from Dela Crow, but you did, you could’ve killed those Foalbanks kids and I wouldn’t have known, but you spared them.”

I scooted back further till I was pressed against the wall.

“I think I know exactly what you are, Ozymandias,” she slurred slightly, leaning closer and closer till just an inch separated us, I felt her hot drunken breath on my face and my heart thumped in my ears, “You’re a good stallion.”

I half chuckled nervously.

“I’ve only had a couple of lovers,” she sheepishly slurred, placing a hoof on my foreleg, “Have you…?”

“Really Saluem,” I tried to say, “You don’t have to do this.”

She pushed her lips firmly against mine, her tongue slipping past my teeth and tangoing with mine. Her lips were so soft and I couldn’t help myself but return her affections, she pulled back and a thick trail of saliva hung in the air between us.

“You’re not a bad kisser,” she mused, licking her lips, “A little inexperienced, but still nice.”

I blushed at the compliment, but I felt pangs of guilt thinking about Cobalt, “Saluem, I don’t think we should do this.”

She ignored me however, unzipping my armor’s jacket and stripped it off before grabbing my suit’s zipper and pulling it down past my crotch, my cock and balls sprang out from the now restrictive leather and slapped her cheek almost comically.

“Good spirits,” the mare breathed, looking down at my shaft, “No wonder you were so embarrassed. You’re a bit bigger than some of my previous buckfriends.”

“Saluem,” I tried to say, “I really think we should stop.”

But the mare ignored me, instead her soft lips kissed at my shaft, making me shiver. She gave my balls an experimental lick, after I moaned slightly she started kissing and sucking on them before dragging her tongue up the underside of the shaft to the head, engulfing it in her hot wet mouth and deep down her hot moist throat.

I groaned into my hoof and desperately tried to hold back as much as possible, but it was a lost cause.

“Sorry!” I grunted, grabbing the mare’s head and shoved my cock deeper as spurt after spurt shot down her throat.

The mare gagged and coughed, spilling a bit of my jizz out of her nostrils, but she held on. When I had finished, she let my cock slip out and coughed into her elbow and blew her nose into a wash rag.

“Sorry,” I mumbled sheepishly, “I shouldn’t have grab-”

“No need-” She said, holding up a hoof for me to stop, she looked up at me tears in her eyes, but she was grinning, “-to apologize, I didn’t know I was that good.”

She cleaned up my cock with the wash rag before moving to straddle my hips, her pussy rubbing against my hardening cock.

“Saluem, stop,” I said, grabbing her hips, “I don’t think we should do this.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, “Do you have a mare back home?”

I faltered slightly, “Not… anymore.”

“Then why stop?” she asked, leaning forward and kissing my lips again, her hips rubbing down on my cock harder, “We’re both adults, I think you’re pretty good looking, besides we’re just having a bit of fun, what’s so bad about that?”

“You could get pregnant,” I blurted out, cheeks reddening.

The lovely mare stared down at me for a good while before she asked, “Does that frighten you, Ozzy?”

I didn’t answer.

“I mean I’m not planning on having a family anytime soon,” her hips ground down on my cock, her juices lessening the friction and making my spine shiver, “But my mother’s tribe believes that all healthy children are blessings from the Spirits.”

I stared up at the mare incredulously, having a bit of fun was one thing, but did she really just say that she’s ok with the idea of having a kid with me?

WHAT!

“Besides” - she started, shifting around so my cock head pressed up with her pussy, I shivered at the exotic heat and wetness - “I have contraceptives I can take in the morning if you’re that serious.”

With that, she leaned down and my cock slipped inch by delicious inch into her warm embrace till she sat down on my hips, my head nestled very deep inside of her. I wanna say that it was the best experience in my short life, which I mean isn’t wrong per say. Whenever Cobalt and I had sex it was a little to rough sometimes, she was a little too aggressive.

Saluem by sheer contrast was definitely more experienced, she was far more gentle and would kiss my chest and neck and whispered pointers to me about what she liked too. I can’t say how long we fucked for, it could’ve been an hour… it could’ve been most of the night, I only remember bits and pieces really.

There was a small spot below her earlobe that made her stifle a moan. I found myself looking down at her pussy, my tongue swirling inside while my cock was balls deep in her throat, spurting seed into her stomach. I was pinning her down under me as my cock plunged into her pussy hitting a spot that made her convulse and tighten, trying to milk me.

Finally, we were on our sides, my cock was thrusting deep into her, our tongues waltzed together, but by the end, I pulled out and Saluem held me close as I spurted most of my seed onto her belly, her pussy glistening white.

She grabbed a clean wash rag and wiped me and herself off before sliding into the bedroll with me and we drifted off to sleep in each others’ arms.

As we fell asleep, I couldn’t help but have a pestering nagging feeling at the back of my fleeting mind, I knew this could have consequences.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

I opened my eyes and glanced around, I wasn’t in Saluem’s hut anymore. Instead I was sitting behind a large desk of dark red wood that was finely engraved embellishments in a large office room with bookcases full of books that nearly reached the high ceiling. The walls were covered in light colored wood panels and decorated with hundreds of framed photographs, schematics, and awards. A large logo of a blue seven pointed shooting star with a silver sword as the seventh point with engraved words on a copper plaque hung on the wall above a pair of double pale wooden doors:

Orion Solutions Inc Companies

Orion Solutions of Baltimare, KBR International of Novasibrisk, St Auburn Medical of Whinnyapolis, Agricola Foods of Chicoltgo, Shining Jade’s Custom Firearms of St Haul, Apricot Computers of Monacolt, Northern Equestrian Mining Services of Trottingham, Detrot Industrial of Detrot, and Jackpot LLC of Foaledo

A large carpet of what looked like a star chart covered the dark wooden floor and my desk was pushed up near a thick glass window showing a sprawling cityscape on the shores of a massive bay of dark gray water.

I turned away from the window and looked down at a newspaper wrapped in a glow of pink magic,

Baltimare Times

Outcry in the Swamps

Citizens of the Horseshoe Bay protest the construction of Hippocampus Energy oil and natural gas drilling operations in the Hayseed Swamp, one protestor had the absolute gaul to say…

The story dominated the front page, pushing aside lesser stories like Release of Midnight Serenade’s tribute to the Old Guard delayed due to Pink Flu and food poisoning…, Mayor Rumble to release the tribute to Flash Magnus and the Old Guard for Bimillennial Celebrations…, and The new cloudships, The Skidbladnir, Song of the North, and Stalliongrad have all been released from the Detrot Drydocks with more on the way…

I dropped the newspaper on the desk and looked at a framed photograph of an elegant pegasus mare wearing a multicolored sundress and a young unicorn colt wearing a pair of swimming trunks standing in front of a sign on a beach of clean white sand with some writing, Horsolulu, Gallopinghost Islands.

Despite my lack of knowledge of the ponies, I smiled warmly at them and tapped my hoof against the glass warmly.

“Doctor Orion?” a voice asked through an intercom on the desk, “Doctor Orion, Corporal Pumpkin Cake is here for your eight o’clock.”

I placed the photograph back and pressed a button on the intercom, “Thank you, Crystal, send her in please.”

The doors creaked open and a unicorn mare dressed in a cleaned green military uniform poked her head in, “Um, Doctor Orion?”

“Yes, hello Corporal Cake, thank you for seeing me so soon,” I said, waving the mare over to a seat across from me, “Now I’m quite certain you must have questions.”

“Yes, Doctor,” the soldier said, brushing some of her curly carrot orange mane, she tucked a black flat cap hat into one of her coat’s pockets, “I was hoping to see my brother, Lieutenant Pound Cake, but I can’t get a straight answer from my superiors.”

“Yes,” I started, getting up from my chair and stepping around the desk, “Your brother seems to have suffered multiple severe injuries, lacerations to his lungs, fractures in his radius and ulna bones in his wings, not to mention possible damage to his thoracic column, it truly is a miracle at all that he’s still breathing. We have him stabilized in an Auto-Doc right now, but if we don’t do something soon, he may as well be braindead.”

The Corporal almost cried but managed to just hold the tears back.

“Corporal Cake,” I took the soldier’s hooves in mine, “I know what it’s like to lose loved ones, but I promise you that my doctors and scientists are trying everything in their power to save your brother.”

She nodded and wiped away a tear.

“There is another option,” I said, standing up and turning to the intercom on the desk, “Doctor Windsly, can you come in?”

The doors opened and a middle aged pegasus stallion stepped in, “Hello, Corporal Cake, how are you this fine day?”

“I’ve been better.”

“My head of Research and Development, Doctor Windsly here has been working closely with both of the Ministries of Technology and Arcane Sciences respectively to improve on power armor manufacturing in Detrot, so far he has managed to increase production by over sixty percent in the last year alone. Windsly, if you will tell the Corporal here what you told me the other day.”

“Yes,” the doctor said, pushing up his glasses, “I’ve reviewed Lt Cake’s condition and I believe we have a possible solution, my team and I have developed a variant of power armor that combines the strength of the standard Mark One models with the flexibility of the Mark Twos, we are calling it Mark Three Experimental, alpha testing has shown an increase of immeasurable proportions in controlled environments, but we have yet to properly test the system in the field, however with your brother’s unfortunate but timely condition and his prior training with Mark Two power armor, we just might be able to make progress on the project once more.”

“Corporal Cake, this procedure could save not just your brother but also potentially hundreds of thousands of lives, as his last living relative, the choice is yours to make.”

The soldier looked between Doctor Windsly and I before she made her choice, “Alright, if it will save Pound.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

I felt something tapping my shoulder ripping me from sleep. Opening my eyes, I saw that I was back in Saluem’s hut and Umeme was standing over me. Glancing over I saw Saluem was sound asleep beside me, snoring softly.

“Uh… yeah” - Quickly remembering what happened last night, I sat up - “this is pretty much what it looks like.”

The stallion didn’t say anything, instead he turned away and left the hut. Saluem mumbled something as she rolled over in her sleep. I carefully got out of the covers, quietly pulling on my gear, I looked down at the beautiful mare I’d just had a nice evening of peace with for a moment longer. What will Mom think? Cobalt would probably be screaming at me and then refuse to acknowledge my existence for weeks. I steeled my thoughts before turning to the door flap.

“Heading out?” Saluem asked, I turned to her, she was sitting up on her elbow.

“Yeah,” I said, rubbing my neck with my hoof, “Umeme knows.”

“The amount of times I’ve caught him with Ophia,” she waved her hoof dismissively, “he won’t tell Lucius.”

“Right, well… last night was fun… so long,” I turned to leave again, but she stopped me.

“Be safe and protect him, ok?” she whispered.

I took her hooves in mine and kissed her lips, “I promise.”

She returned the kiss and pressed her forehead to mine, careful of my horn, we stayed like that for a few moments before I stepped out the door.

*** *** ***

“Ready?” Umeme asked, he was wearing his gear, but now his cloak had a few more bullet holes in it.

Argus was standing by the gate sharpening a several inch long hunting knife with a jawbone handle. He was wearing a dark green jacket made of heavy canvas with blackened metal shoulder and foreleg armor, one of the invisibility cloaks over his shoulders, a saddle bag, and revolver in a holster on his hip. He had also bathed, his dark gray coat and balding mane were now an ashen blond and a swampy gray green and I noticed his cutie mark was an eye made from candle flame.

“Where’re the others?” I asked, looking around the main gate.

“Not coming,” Umeme muttered, not meeting my eyes, “This is a redemption mission, my squad isn’t allowed to come.”

“You’re supposed to go alone?” I asked in disbelief, “That’s suicide.”

“I disobeyed a direct order from my General, the fact that he’s also my father is circumstantial-”

“It’s barbaric,” I interrupted, this couldn’t be happening!

“I succeed in my mission or I die trying,” he continued flatly, “Either way I’m forgiven and regain my honor once more. That is the way of the Roamani.”

“The Roamani?”

“My mother’s tribe, we who banded the other eleven and one together and forged our old empire when the First Caesar abandoned us.”

“Well, why’re we allowed to come with you?”

Argus sheathed his knife, “Not even the Goddesses could keep me from muh wife, Drylandah.”

“And you still desire the whereabouts of Doctor Rose, no?” Umeme asked.

With that, we left the Castle and journeyed north along a path through the Swamp just as sunlight pierced the distant horizon and soon disappeared above the clouds.

*** *** ***

We spent the better part of the day making our way through trees and marshes, we encountered a few overgrown pale mosquitoes nearly as big as me. Umeme called them Bloodbugs, they were unnervingly quick and it took a whole magazine to kill two of them even with S.A.T.S.

Umeme’s expert shots took out three in a single bullet and Argus whipped out his revolver and killed three of them with practiced ease and pulled out his knife and stabbed the fourth just behind its head.

“Where are we going?” I asked Argus.

“Dere’s only one way t’ git t’ the Regulators wit’out ‘em knowin’, the Onions run barges up t’ the Twin Brothers under the Regulators’ noses, since they live in Outcasts Territory Sturmkaller can’t hit ‘em, as per the treaty.”

It was late in the afternoon when we reached a high old brick wall decorated with plastic mannequin heads, teddy bears, painted white onions and a rampant zebra outlined by a blazing sun.

At least there weren’t any corpses this time.

Past the fence was a courtyard with a few stilted ramshackle shacks surrounding a very large old mansion on the banks of the same wide river I had spotted on my map when I had left Stable Fifty-Two. My PipBuck pinged, my map had labeled the place as the Onion Farmstead, I was about to give up trying to figure out this damned thing.

A number of Swampfolk kids were running around the courtyard playing little games or doing chores like looking after some penned in livestock, a two headed cow, a couple of lumpy pigs, and scaly chickens, at least I think they were chickens, they could’ve been strange looking lizards for all I knew.

A filly sat on a rusty sheet metal roof holding a lever rifle, when she spotted us she jumped up and started hollering, “Who y’all?!”

“I am Amandla Orthius Umeme Octavius, we are here for Myles Onion.”

“Grandpa ain’t here Outcast, so fuck off!” the filly shouted, brandishing her rifle, “Grandma already paid this season!”

Paid this season?

“I’m here for something else, child,” Umeme shouted, “Junebug Onion, get out here now!”

After a few moments a slightly pregnant mare wearing a faded denim jacket over a blue checkered dress stepped out from the manson and came up to the gate, she was followed by two younger looking mares in similar clothing, I instantly noticed that their bodies were considerably less mutated than the Foalbanks of Dela Crow, the lumps under their hides were barely noticeable, the few tumors and pustules were speratict, and they looked just overall so much healthier that they almost didn’t look like Swampfolk.

“Well howdy there, Mista Umeme,” the older mare greeted Umeme, “Ain’t seen ya in a dog’s half-life, how ya been?”

“I’m here on business, Junebug, is your grandfather here?”

Junebug looked away slightly bored, “Oh, Daddy mighta gone on down t’ the McZaphords and the Black Apples a spell back, Ah don’t rightly know when he’ll be back, if ya gots some time…”

I noticed that Umeme’s cheeks reddened slightly. I also noticed that all of the kids were different in little tiny ways, either their colors mismatched or they were different races, mostly earth ponies or unicorns but there were a few pegasi and even a couple of half zebras like Prysm and Mashhad. A colt and filly were playing with a few puppies almost like they could control them, somehow.

I glanced up at one of the younger unicorn mares by Junebug, she was wearing a faded black denim jacket with the sloppy white onion stitched into her sleeve over a grassy green dress and her shaggy muddy mane covered one of her dark brown eyes with a couple of small black rings in the brow of the visible one. I suspected that she had noticed what I had suspected of this family, because she nodded.

“Junebug, I’m on a tight schedule, now go tell your father I need to speak with him.”

“Touchy today, muh offer still stands,” Junebug giggled playfully as she went over to a shack closest to the river.

The mare who nodded at me lingered a bit, staring at my suit collar and then down at my PipBuck, her cheeks reddened when she noticed her family had left and she quickly hurried up to the mansion. Umeme reached over the fence and opened the gate so we could enter.

We crossed the courtyard and entered the mansion, the entrance room was big with a large faded rug in the center and a few chairs and sofas for sitting. A narrow staircase led up to a second floor with lots of doors, the whole place was decorated with old photographs and drawings and a few animal pelts and heads, though there weren’t any pony or zebra hides this time.

So that was a better sign at least.

A number of kids ran in from outside, past me and rounded a corner into a long corridor with even more doors. Umeme and Argus both sat down on the chairs and I picked the sofa, we waited there for quite some time, the family moved around us like we weren’t there. I was about to ask Umeme and Argus who we were waiting for when a mousy voice squeaked out something. I looked over my shoulder and found the mare who had nodded at me, she was holding a platter in a small cloud of swampy brown magic with some drinks on it.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

The mare’s cheeks burned red and she squeaked again, “Wouldja like a drink, Mista?”

“Um, thank you?” I said, wrapping a bottle of dark brown liquid, Sunrise Sarsaparilla and taking a sip, I can’t really describe what it tasted like beyond its aftertaste was of wintergreen, vanilla and maybe licorice. I really liked it.

The mare handed out the other two drinks to Umeme and Argus, she stepped to the side and offered a quiet hidden smile to me.

“Jubee, leave the Stable Dwellah alone an’ help Carrot wit’ the pigs!” an elderly earth pony mare shouted from a side room.

“Yes, Grandma,” the mare squeaked out and hurried to the door, but then she stole one quick glance at me before stepping outside.

“Ya best forgit ‘bout her, Stable Dwellah!” the elderly mare shouted, brandishing a cleaver at me, “Jubee ain’t of no use t’ nopony!”

We sat there in silence again till it started getting dark, then Junebug came inside followed by the younger mares and Jubee.

“Ah’m sorry Mista Umeme, but it looks like muh Grandpa ain’t gonna show up t’night and y’all might be havin’ t’ stay cause of the storm blowin’ in,” Junebug almost sauntered up to the stallion, “Muh bed is still pretty big.”

“Ya be knocking that off, Junebug,” the elderly mare shouted from an upstairs room this time, “They’s be sleepin’ out inta barn, t’night!”

“But Grandma,” Junebug cried like a spoiled brat.

“No butts, Missie,” the mare shouted, brandishing a hairbrush at Junebug, “Ah’s still ain’t forgiven ya whorin’ ass for fuckin’ that Blacktyde buck an’ gittin’ ya’self preg’inant again! When Ah’s was ya’s age, Ah only slept with twenty bucks before Ah met ya Grandpa!”

“When ya’s was muh age the War was still goin’ on, ya dried out old bat,” Junebug muttered quietly to herself, the elderly mare chucked the hairbrush and smacked the back of Junebug’s head.

“Git goin’, Missie!” the elderly mare shouted as Junebug and her sisters followed her up the stairs and down a corridor.

“Thank you, Mrs Onion,” Umeme addressed the elderly mare, “We won’t be a burden to you or your family.”

“Eh, git goin’,” the mare replied gruffly, turning back to the upstairs room, “Fuckin’ Outcasts.”

“Well, they’re a particularly loving family, aren’t they?” I sarcastically asked to nopony in particular as we crossed the courtyard to the larger of the shacks that leaned at a slight angle.

Umeme and I pushed on the double doors and the most horrific, putrid, foul smelling, toxic disgustingness that I had ever smelled in my short life wafted out from the damp darkness, I nearly vomited.

The barn was dark and damp with wet hay, straw and feces blanketing the floor, the two headed cow and the lumpy pigs rested in stalls deeper in. A single lantern with a flickering flame was the only light in the building, casting shadows on the walls. Umeme grabbed the lantern and Argus dragged up a few crates, we sat down around the light. Umeme picked up a few bundles of dryer straw and lit them on fire making torches. I took one in my magic, slowly I gradually felt warmer. Suddenly, the clouds above started leaking as the storm hit.

It was like being back in the showers of Stable Fifty-Two, but it was everywhere outside and it wouldn’t stop. A number of cold water drops leaked through the roof, splashing us occasionally. Argus stepped outside into the rain and returned after twenty minutes with a fat three eyed fish with a big gaping mouth that he called a Big Mouth Bass. He fried it up with some of his rum and honestly it tasted pretty good. We were in the barn for hours, but the storm didn’t let up.

“So, what do we do now?” I asked, hugging my jacket closer to me and the fire, my breath fogged in the cold air.

‘Why was it getting so fucking cold?’ I thought, wishing I was back with Saluem in her bedroll.

“We go to the Regulators and save Kaldi,” Argus grumbled, checking on the livestock.

“And after that?” I asked, Umeme was looking out the crack in the doors letting cold but fresh air in.

Neither stallion answered, I pulled up my PipBuck’s radio, I didn’t want to click on Red Eye’s Broadcast again, that one time was far more than enough, so I picked a different signal.

“Chills
Chills come racing down my spine
Like a storm on my skin, with shaking hooves
I’ll guide your SWEET soul into mine
Until I feel you within
And I know
I know that it’s all about understanding
And I’m hidden inside your beautiful soul as it’s crying for love
To conquer the day slowly dawnin’
I want you to know, you’re the heart of my Temple of Thought.”

The voice and the song he sang was filled with sorrowful hopefulness that it made me go to very unhappy places.

“So when you’re restless I will calm the ocean for you
In your sorrow I will dry your tears
When you need me I will be the love beside you
I’ll take away all of your fears
Oh, I’ll take AWAY all of your fears
So you can let go all your fears

And you stay
Stay with me when I break down
Like a dream come saving I’ve
Words shall fail here
I’ll just read the way you sound
Till I know the meaning of love and life
And it could be I’m understating
What are your needs that you stand in behind
Every words you say to make my day slowly dawnin’
I want you to know you’re the heart of my Temple of Thought

So when you’re restless I will calm the ocean for you
In your sorrow I will dry your tears
When you need me I will be the love beside you
I’ll take away all of your fears
Oh, I’ll take AWAY all of your fears
So you can let go all your fears

Dreams have nothing on my reality high
On the scent of your skin
I know we’re riding endlessly into the sun
Feel the life deep within”

There was a long guitar solo before the drums returned followed by the singer,

“So when you’re restless I will calm the oceans for you
In your sorrow I will dry your tears
When you need me I will be the love beside you
I’ll take away all your fears
I’ll take AWAY all of your fears
I’ll take away all your fears
I’ll take away all of your fears
You can let go of all your fears.”

The voice slowly died away and was replaced with a new voice, “This is DJ Pon3 and that was Autumn Poet, singing about one of life’s greatest virtues, being there for that somebody special. And now time for the news for my listeners up in the North Shore. My sources tell me that the Legion of Outcasts have wiped out the leader of a group of cannibalistic raiders in the Hayseed Swamp called the Foalbanks.”

My ears perked up, Umeme continued staring out the doors, “Though their General denied my sources the chance of an interview, I have been told that a Stable Dweller called Ozzy, was involved in the operation in some way. Hey, Kid, if you’re ever in Manehattan stop by Tenpony Tower, I’m sure Chief Grim Star might have some contracts to fulfill. Now in other news from the Griffish Isles…”

I hadn’t heard the rest, my mind was running a mile a minute and my heart started thundering in my chest. I’d been outside what little over a week now, how did this FUCKIN’ DJ know about me all the way in FUCKIN’ Manehattan? And did he really just say my name for the whole of the Wasteland to hear?

FUCK! Fuck me with Celestia’s hooves, all of them!

“...lost in transit between the settlements of Buckster and Wharf. Now for the weather, brace yourselves children, cause Winter is coming for your booties! Remember to dress warmly and stay indoors as much as possible. And now back to the music, it’s Bluejay Bond and he’s singing about the Stars of the Midnight Range.”

I shut off the radio and put my face in my hooves, Argus was almost cackling. What was I gonna do?

After a long time Umeme called my attention, I stood and looked out the doors, in the slightly heavier cold rain I thought I noticed the briefest of ghostly shimmers on top of the fence. Umeme noticed them too.

“Uncle,” Umeme whispered, Argus was already behind us, .223 pistol and knife at the ready.

I heard a rustling and turned back into the barn and held up my torch, at the back wall I thought I saw the faintest of outlines on the edge of my indirect vision, I switched on my E.F.S. and a yellow blip popped up in front of me on my compass.

“Who’re you?” I asked, the figure pulled back the hood of an invisibility cloak and Prime Axius materialized, his silenced rifle was at the ready and pointed at Umeme.

“I’m sorry, Legate Umeme,” he muttered, “It’s for the good of the Outcasts.”

“I’m sorry too, Prime Axius,” Umeme muttered, whipping around he chucked his knife across the barn and hit the soldier between his eyes.

Argus picked up the soldier’s rifle and ammo and set himself up by the back window, “More are comin’.”

Umeme pointed me to the back corner, he retrieved his knife, and closed the soldier’s eyes, “Walk the Golden Walls, Axius.”

“Did you know him?”

“I trained him, his parents had been raped and eaten by a family down near the Palatine, come on.”

Argus planted a small bag of black powder on the soldier as we left and led the livestock into the rain, we crept along the brick wall and waited about twenty feet away. After a few minutes, gunshots popped and banged and lit up the empty barn.

Suddenly the whole courtyard lit up as a couple dozen muzzle flashes lit up the barn, turning it into splintered cheese, when everything was done, the barn collapsed in on itself with a subdued cloud of dust. The mansion’s windows lit up and a ruckus was drummed up as the Onions learned of the attack, a dozen of the older stallions and mares ran out the front door brandishing lever action guns and started attacking the Outcasts Betrayers.

I unholstered my brush gun and took aim at the soldiers, my first couple of S.A.T.S. aided shots picked off two soldiers closest to the barn. Argus and Umeme jumped up into the fray, Umeme and Junebug targeted a few soldiers by the brick wall while Argus and a couple of older Onions shot up a few soldiers trying to flank us. I targeted another few soldiers, a couple of bullets ripped past my head and one struck against my metal pauldron, I dove back behind cover and checked over myself, but aside from a heavy bruise in my shoulder I was fine.

Suddenly a soldier came from around a corner and jumped on my back. I tried to get her off, slamming her against the brick wall, against a tree, I even threw myself back into the mud. I can’t remember how long we tussled, but she managed to get on top of me with her rifle. Before I could lift my brush gun or Light, her neck exploded and she collapsed to the side of me, twitching and gurgling slightly. I stared down at her for a moment before a second soldier materialized in the rain.

“Tahka?” I sputtered, wiping my mane out of my eyes.

The stallion grinned, lowering his smoking rifle, Mashhad materialized alongside Q’osk’s daughter, Q’ale wearing a heavily modified skinnier version of Q’osk’s armor with only one of his machine guns on the battle saddle. Mashhad helped me stand up.

“What’re you all doing here?” I asked.

“Helping you recover Kaldi, Kid,” Mashhad answered grinning, “Umeme just happens to be doing the same thing.”

I looked them over and grinned, “Well, I appreciate it.”

We got into the battle, Tahka taking to defending the fence, Mashhad took up a perch by the mansion and Q’ale lit up a group of Betrayers with her father’s machine gun. Umeme was tackled by a soldier and Ophia materialized and bucked the soldier’s helmet in.

Helping Umeme up, the stallion hugged the mare tightly, I wiped my mane out of my eyes and saw a soldier who was trying to rip an Onion mare’s clothes off, I took aim at the soldier and shot him in his neck, he collapsed beside the mare.

I got up and quickly crossed the chaotic courtyard and checked on the mare, to my surprise it was Jubee, she was picking up a worn looking 44 Magnum revolver in her magic.

“Are you alright?” I asked, helping her out of the mud and taking cover behind the deck, she swept some of the bloody mud out of her mane with her magic and I noticed that her covered eye was strange, it was a pale milky green, “Did that bastard do anything?”

She shook her head slightly and squeaked, “Nothin’ Ah ain’t suffered before, Mista.”

Suddenly, Mrs Onion bursted out of the mansion wielding a heavy machine gun on an old battle saddle followed by a group of middle aged stallions and mares wielding more lever action guns.

“The fuck’s happenin’ out here!?” the elderly mare shouted as she took aim at the soldiers and lit them up with shotgun shells instead of regular bullets.

Just as quickly as it had started, the battle was over, I helped Jubee up from our hiding spot and looked around. Nearly twenty Outcasts and seven Onions lay dead in the mud and cold rain.

Umeme was shouting at Ophia, Tahka, Mashhad and Q’ale, “What in the name of the First Caesar are you all doing here?!”

“Helping Ozzy, Sir,” Tahka answered.

“Well get back to the Castrum, now, I have to do this alone.”

“With all due respect, Legate Umeme, we aren’t following your orders anymore, Sir,” Q’ale started, “We’re following Centurion Ophia’s, Sir.”

Umeme stared down at the mare with a mixture of anger and pride, Ophia placed her hoof on his shoulder, “Fuck honor, I’m not letting you die.”

The nice scene was interrupted when Mrs Onion came up, shouting, “Mind explainin’ exactly what happened?”

*** *** ***

It was nearly day break when Umeme had finished explaining the situation as he saw it, Legate Eadadyiy wanted him dead or banished so he could become the next General when his father died, as Legate he was in the best spot to take his father’s place. But he couldn’t kill Umeme himself because they were both Roamani and honor meant everything to their tribe. Umeme couldn’t go back and accuse the Legate because he was Speculatores and was without power until he rescued Kaldi.

Mrs Onion and her family sat around the main room listening to Umeme as he explained, the elderly mare simply nodded and by the end she spoke with her seven children, and decided on telling her husband upon his return and then they would decide. Until his return we were allowed to sleep in a couple of upstairs rooms, but we weren’t allowed to interact with any of her family, she glared at me specifically.

It was close to noon when I woke up… at least my PipBuck told me it was noon, but the skies were still dark and it was raining even harder, the Onions had buried their dead and chucked the Outcasts Betrayers into the river after stripping them of their gear.

I pulled on my gear and walked down the corridor, I saw Jubee helping some of the younger colts and fillies into a large bathtub. I offered the young mare a smile and she blushed sheepishly, I continued downstairs. Umeme, Ophia, Tahka, Mashhad, Q’ale, and Argus were looking over a crudely drawn map of the area with one of the Onion children.

“So, that’s the short of it,” the Onion explained, gesturing a hoof at Neightick, “Sturmkaller has made a deal t’ reinforce the town wit’ Red Eye Slavers from down south, but we’s ain’t seen ‘em as of yet.”

“No contact yet, interesting,” Umeme mused to himself, “Any other defenses?”

“Standard, mostly heavy assault rifles, snipers, machine guns, shotguns, etc.”

“Any slaves?” Argus asked.

“They bein’ held in pens on the eastern bank of the Neighagra River, about thirty of ‘em, gon’ be presents for Red Eye, Ah’s reckon.”

“And Baltimare?” Ophia asked.

“High Councilor Hyacinth Dawn seems t’ have made a deal wit’ Sturmkaller, she keeps trade flowing wit’out disruption, she can sell slaves.”

The room got quiet for a moment before Umeme coughed into his hoof for attention, “All of you should get yourselves ready for tonight when Mr Onion returns this afternoon, Ophia and I will think of a plan.”

*** *** ***

Later that afternoon, I was sitting in a wicker chair on the deck out of the rain looking out over the river. A few smaller crawdads swam against the current, one of them stopped and looked in my direction for a moment before continuing on. There were some scattered gunshots in the distance that sounded like machine guns, but it was otherwise quiet. The Onions had given me a jacket liner that I wore under my suit, I felt a bit warmer at least.

I looked down at my PipBuck map and felt a chilling dread, Mom could’ve been anywhere by now, where would I even start?

A sudden creaking sound made me glance up, spotting Jubee timidly standing by the stairs.

“Ah’s sorry, Mista, Ah didn’t mean t’ interrupt yas work-”

I held up my hoof to quiet her, “No, you didn’t do anything wrong, come here.”

The mare hesitated for a long moment before timidly stepping over and sitting in a chair beside me, she timidly glanced up at my brush gun.

“Ya killed Jackchip?”

“Yeah,” I replied, glancing up, “Did you know him?”

“Ain’t no folk, pony or zebra, in the Swamp who ain’t git fucked over by ‘im or the Foalbanks.”

“Well, it should be a bit safer now.”

We sat in silence for a long time while I checked over my gear, I placed Light on the table and checked over my saddle bag, Jubee picked up Light and looked it over in her magic.

“Nice, isn’t it?”

The mare’s cheeks reddened slightly and she glanced away, carefully putting Light back, “Ah ain’t mean no harm, Mista-”

“Ozzy,” I said softly, playing out Light’s empty magazine, “And it’s fine, Jubee, it isn't loaded anyway.”

We sat in a longer silence for a while, the rain continued tapping on the roof above us.

“What’s it like here?” I asked, waiting to fill the silence.

“Oh,” Jubee squeaked, timidly fidgeting with her braid, “it ain’t t’ bad Ah reckon, safe here.”

There was a long pause before I asked, “Is it ever gonna stop raining?”

“Probably… a couple a days maybe,” Jubee squeaked, now fidgeting with her jacket.

We sat in silence again before she asked something under the rain, I asked her to repeat it.

“Where ya from?” she squeaked, “Ah mean if it’s no trouble.”

“No, it’s just most people I’ve dealt with so far usually notice that I’m a Stable Dweller is all.”

“Ya from City Seventeen? Grandpa an’ Uncle Fry do lots of business wit’ ‘em an’ the Garret Twins, they good folk.”

“The Garret Twins?”

“Yeah, one of them crime families down in Foaledo, they’s run the Balefire Wrangler, mostly buy McZaphords’ booze from us, they’s better folk than the Riches.”

“And the Riches?”

“Bad folk, run the Desperado and sell slaves fer anythin’, led by Boiled Rich, bunch of bastards. So are ya from City Seventeen?”

“No, my Stable’s up in the mountains, my Mom and I are the only ones who’ve come out since the Last Day.”

“Oh,” Jubee gasped, covering her mouth with her hooves, “Yer from that Stable!”

“That Stable?” What did she mean by that?

She nodded, “We attacked a Stable up in the mountains a long time ago, but we couldn’t git in.”

I remembered the miners who tried to blow open Stable Fifty-Two to escape the end of their world, only to die of radiation, dehydration, and starvation. “Oh, well trust me, you’re better off out here.”

There was another long pause before I asked, “Hey, can you read?”

“Ah, uh no… not much,” she admitted quietly, looking down at the river, “Muh brain can’t handle letters an’ numbers none t’ good, they jump all over the page.”

“Dyslexia,” I mused quietly, she glanced up at me confused, “I think that’s what they call it when you can’t read well.”

“Grandpa says Ah had water in muh brain when Ah was born, makes me o’ no use t’ nopony.”

“Bullshit,” I muttered, startling her, “Just because you can’t read doesn’t mean you’re useless, what’re you good at?”

“Well-” she started, but was interrupted when Junebug called for her, “Oh, sorry, yeah Sis?”

She got up to leave, but took a moment to thank me for my time before she hurried off into the house.

“Are you ready?” Umeme asked from the doorway, he had his gear on, “We’re heading out.”

*** *** ***

We were on Mr Onion’s boat, it was a cramped metal thing with a large bladed engine that ran on spark batteries bolted to the back that loudly propelled us up the river and the Swampfolk carefully guided us between debris. Rain whipped at us as we huddled together, I pulled my jacket closer.

“Here’s the plan,” Umeme said over the rain and the engine, “Ozzy, you’re going to pose as Red Eye’s representative and speak with Sturmkaller, distract her as long as possible, Uncle Argus and I will locate Aunt Kaldi, Ophia, Tahka, and Mashhad will set up explosives around to cause distractions, Q’ale, you guard Mr Onion, we pull this off, we’ll be able to go home, any questions?”

“Yeah,” I raised my hoof, “How the hell do you expect me to act like a slaver?”

“It’s simple, act threatening and like everything’s beneath you, you’ll think of something.”

“Great,” I muttered.

“One other thing,” Ophia said, “You can’t take weapons into Neightick, I might be able to hide your pistol on you well enough that they won’t be able to find it when they search you, but don’t take it out unless shit hits the fan.”

I instinctively covered my ass with my hooves.

“Not there, pervert.”

After that humorous exchange, we rounded a bend in the river and came into view of Neightick. If Dela Crow had been a town and the Castrum was… well a castle, then the slaver town was nothing short of a fucking fortress!

It was built upon a massive bridge of metal and concrete that spanned the length of the river just before it bends to the northwest toward the Twin Brothers in Haagenheim. Probably a thousand makeshift buildings were built up along the support pillars and cables with thousands of small lights dotted around and at the center of it all was a high tower with a flag fluttering in the wind and rain.

We pulled up to a small dock in the Swamp near the northern length of the Applelachian Mountains and followed a narrow hoof path for an hour up to a crumbling four lane highway like the Long Stretch that my PipBuck labeled theOld Circle.

We followed it through the blankets of rain and cold and reached a small collection of crumbling buildings before the western gate. We stopped in a building that used to be a post office so Ophia could hide Light in my suit and take it’s holster belt.

“Remember, you want them to think you’re with Red Eye, act like everything’s beneath you. Ready?”

I couldn’t find my voice so I just nodded. With that, they all pulled up their cloaks and disappeared. I swallowed hard and cautiously stepped up the road to the gate. This was quite easily the craziest and dumbest thing I’d ever agreed too. My heart thumped in my ears, sweat would’ve been pouring down my brow if it weren’t for the rain.

Suddenly, a blinding light flashed on me and I had to block it with my foreleg to keep from going blind.

“Identify yourself!” somebody shouted.

“Hey is that a fuckin’ Stable Dweller?” a second voice shouted out, “Turn that damn light off, Mic.”

“I’m from Red Eye!” I shouted over the rain, “I’ve come to speak with Sturmkaller!”

The spot light shut off and I lowered my hoof. Five Regulators stood up on the high reinforced rusting metal walls, two earth ponies, a unicorn, a zebra with green stripes and a strange red eagle/lion hybrid thing that must've been a griffon. I counted two heavy assault rifles, one combat shotgun, a magical energy pistol, and the griffon held an incredibly strange long boxy black plastic weapon system that my vast knowledge of Ironshod Firearms told me was most likely a 4.7mm Caseless Assault Rifle, it was mentioned as a purely experimental weapon system that supposedly never saw true combative use due to reliability issues with the ammunition being easily damaged.

They must’ve fixed the issues in the two hundred years since the book's publication.

A small door in the gate opened and an earth pony mare wearing a black leather armor with a black cloud and lightning bolt striking a pair of crossed heavy assault rifles painted on her gray metal shoulder pauldrons stepped out, she lifted her heavy assault rifle cautiously.

“You’re from Red Eye?” she asked, notably lacking the Swampfolk accent.

“Yes,” I muttered, trying to seem disinterested, “Is there a problem?”

“Yeah there’s a fucking problem, you’re a whole season late.”

The Regulators up at the gate watched us suspiciously, I noticed a few shimmers climbing up the support beams, I had to distract them.

Doing my best to seem like an angry slaver, I stepped toward the mare and growled in a low voice, “And this is my problem because?”

“Well, we’ve been waiting for weeks and… the slaves are-” the mare stuttered slightly, somehow not expecting this despite being a slaver.

“My Master told me to speak with your leader, not with the common rabble, now take me to your leader or I’ll be forced to tell my Master that he will have to look elsewhere… perhaps the Riches down in Foaledo-”

“No! I’ll bring you to Sturmkaller, follow me,” the mare holstered her rifle and beckoned for me to follow her.

This felt far too easy.

Inside the gates was a room with a reinforced window with a slot, a zebra stallion with blue stripes and dreadlocks sat at a desk holding a clipboard with papers and a pencil, a number of gun racks and shelves with boxes lined the room behind him.

“Good evening, sir,” the zebra greeted me, “Name and occupation please.”

“Monty Banks,” I said, quickly thinking of a fake name, damn DJ Pon3, “I represent Red Eye.”

The zebra jotted down the information, when he finished he pushed open the slot so the box was open to me, “Please place your weapons and ammunition into the box, we will return them when you leave.”

“What?” I asked, trying to sound annoyed.

“It’s for safety reasons, sir, can’t have the slaves getting guns, right?”

I glared at the zebra for a moment longer before a gun cocking got my attention, a couple of Regulators leveled magical energy rifles at me, “You will have to leave your gear here, you will get everything back when you leave.”

I glared at the guards for a moment longer before I unclasped my brush gun, holster bandolier and floated out the spare bullets from my saddle bag, I sweated slightly when the guards patted me down, but they let me go. The zebra handed me a ticket with some numbers on it, stuffing it in my saddle bag. I followed the mare through the door and out into Neightick.

*** *** ***

Neightick’s buildings were built up two, three, four and even five high forming a long wide corridor that blocked out the rain and cold with walkways, stairs, ramps and pulley lifts. Lights were strung up all over the place some were advertising bars and stores and brothels with mares and stallions in scant clothing called out services for low prices.

Dozens and dozens of ponies, zebras and a few griffons were walking around going about their business or were up in the walkways, a number of them were wearing matching black leather armor with the same black cloud and lightning bolt striking crossed heavy assault rifles.

The mare led me through the crowds to the tower in the middle of the bridge before we climbed steep stairs. When we reached the fourth landing, a pegasus Regulator threw a slave over the railing of the landing, she screamed all the way down into the crowds dozens of feet below.

“Luna dammit, Daven, she cost good bucks,” my guide berated the stallion, he flicked his wings at her in a way that must’ve been insulting.

My heart screamed at me to do something, but my brain told me to calm down and stick to the plan. We made our way up more stairs till finally we made it to the tower top, my escort opened a door for me.

“Sturmkaller’s busy with a personal task, she’ll be with you as soon as possible.”

I stepped inside the room and the door closed behind me. The room was pretty small and loosely resembled an office with a squat wardrobe, a couple of chairs, a coffee table, and a wooden desk with a terminal and a framed photograph. I stepped around the desk, the photo was of a young filly hugging an older mare, both were pegasi and the left edge of the photo was chard slightly like a part of it had been burned away.

I tapped the terminal keyboard and the screen flashed on and a password was required, I racked my head for all that I knew about Sturmkaller before deciding to just hack into it. I’m not the best at computers and hacking them is pretty tricky for me, but I had no choice.

And I was slightly disappointed when the password turned out to be Wind.

Inside was a number of nonsensical corrupted entries, but at the end was a few entries presumably written by Sturmkaller. I selected the last one.

I’ve been down here for twenty-seven years, seven months, three weeks, and six days.

I wasn’t even fifteen and yet I was judged no better than Rainbow Dash and Scootaloo. All for allowing my commanding officer to get himself killed by that fucking Windigo.

Father declared I was unworthy of our name…
Mother wouldn’t even look at me during the trial…
Sturmrise was almost grinning with glee as I was slapped in chains and dragged away.

I still feel the branding melting into my flesh. I still hear the roaring laughter as I lost my voice in silent screams. I still see the surface barreling up at me as I fall, flailing toward the beast riddled ruins of Monacolt. I still remember the fear in that Blacksturm’s eyes as I drove my spear through the gaps of his armor into his lungs. I still hear the mocking catcalls and taunting slurs from those wannabe gangsters in Foaledo. I still feel the bullets shot by that Blackraven sniper that pierced my wing grounding me.

And yet, I still feel the warmth of Rose’s smile when I stumbled bleeding into her clinic in City Seventeen’s courtyard. I still remember the pride and honor radiating from Crusader Bryght Steele as he killed Tawa Sunspear over the Chariot Hotel in Detrot. I still see the bloody snow covering The Nest when we fought Malys Grimfeathers alongside Gawdyna. I still feel the warmth and the love in Iudex Umbaril’s eyes fade as he dies from the manticore slash in his side.

“Grimfeathers? The Nest?” I quietly muttered, remembering the names Tahka mentioned.

I’ve been down here for twenty-seven years, seven months, three weeks, and six days… and now I feel as though my time is nearing…

Let it come, I will not go gentle into the Darkness.

I sat back in the chair and thought about what I just read, Sturmkaller was a slaver and yet, to be blamed for a crime she didn’t even commit?

I closed out of the terminal and sat down in a chair and waited for what felt like a good hour before the door blew open and a pegasus mare downing a large bottle of whiskey stepped in.

The mare wore an old beige Enclave uniform, but it was incredibly sloppy, the few medals and awards she’d earned were defaced and the single copper bars on her collar tabs were tarnished and rusting with a slight green patina, a scratched up name tag was pinned above her asymmetrical breast pocket, Sturmkaller.

She had a necklace made from pistol and rifle bullet casings with a couple of metal dog tags with luminescent blue squares and black rubber edges, one had a large bullet hole in it. A 12.7mm pistol was holstered at her side below her cutie mark, a black cloud and lightning bolt that almost looked burned into her hide. Her long blue fusha mane was in a sloppy tri braid and tied off with a torn scrap of old red ribbon.

I was reminded of the Enclave Officer from my weird dream.

“You!” she growled, throwing her bottle over her shoulder, “You got some real fucking nerve to show up!”

“You must be Sturmkaller,” I said, standing up and offering a hoof, “My Master sends his regards.”

The mare grumbled something under her breath as she slumped down in the chair opposite me, “Getting down to business, I have about a thousand following me with another hundred up near the Twin Brothers, twenty-eight slaves are ready to go-”

Suddenly a stallion stepped in carrying a platter with a couple of liquor bottles on it, he silently placed it on the coffee table and turned to leave.

Sturmkaller picked up a glass and threw it at the stallion, who caught it, “Duke, if your brain was dynamite, you wouldn’t have enough to blow your fucking hat off!”

The stallion silently closed the door and Sturmkaller continued, “Anyways, how long will it be before we can expect Red Eye’s reinforcements?”

My heartbeat quickened in my ears as my brain raced for a believable answer, “Well, from what I’ve seen so far, I think we would be better off buying from-”

CRACK!

The mare suddenly slammed the bottle hard enough against the table to crack, spraying dark liquid all over, “So that’s how it’s going to be?”

“Well, I’d hardly say that-,” I started, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

She lifted the bottle up, brandishing it’s jagged edge at me, “You think I enjoyed it when my loving, caring, spiteful big sister held me down as they burned away my cutie mark and then cast me down from their fucking Eden?” she bitterly spat, “Do you think I enjoy this toxic hellscape? Do you think that I haven’t made sacrifices to whip these fucking caravan guards into proper slavers?!”

“Killing Mayls Grimfeathers must’ve been interesting,” I cautiously commented, staring down at the bottle.

Sturmkaller threw back her head in cruel laughter, “What do you know of that bloody kir anyway?”

I didn’t answer for a long time before she continued.

“Where’re you from anyway?” the mare lowered the bottle and asked, staring down at my suit, “Didn’t think that Red Eye worked with Stable Dwellers.”

“It’s not something I like to talk about, I’m sure you understand.”

Strumkaller leaned closer, “Then tell me.”

Shit!

“I was lost in the Heartlands,” I started, quickly coming up with a story that hopefully sounded plausible, “One of his slavers found me one night and brought me to him. He offered me a choice, tell him where my stable was or suffer beyond anything possible. I tell myself it was an easy choice.”

The mare nodded, filling her glass again.

We talked for close to an hour, Sturmkaller seemed to calm down more, she talked about the Regulators, about how she took over and compared it to Red Eye’s own rise to power, she asked about what it was like to serve the new slaver king of Fillydelphia and I quickly came up with plausible answers. When the bottle was long since dry, Sturmkaller stood and sauntered slightly around me.

“Say, why not stay for the night?” She trailed a wing feather along my shoulder, “We can give your master his slaves in the morning.”

My cheeks reddened, “Sorry,” I said, standing up, “I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“I didn’t ask.”

Before I could react, the crazy mare grabbed my collar and threw me against her desk. I backed up slightly, but I was trapped. She leaned far too close and without any warning pressed her lips against mine, I tasted the sour liquor as her tongue slipped into my mouth. Her lips and tongue dominated mine as her wings groped my crotch, I struggled to break free but she was too persistent. Eventually, she broke her assault and stared up into my eyes and her face flashed with a dawning of foggy realization. A wing reached up and flicked away some of my still somewhat damp mane and her realization turned into cruel dread.

She tried to say something multiple times before she whispered, “Wait, I know your eyes.”

She took a step back and covered her mouth with her wings, “You’re Rose’s son?”

I blinked a couple of times before asking, “You know my Mom?”

“She didn’t mention me?” she asked, anger sparking behind her eyes, “I’m one of her only friends left in this dead world and she didn’t fucking mention me?”

I shook my head and she grabbed her chair and threw it into the wall, “Celestia’s fucking soaking cunt!”

And I thought my profanity was getting bad, “I was there when she squeezed you out, I helped you get to that fucking hole in the mountains and yet she didn’t even bother to talk about me?!”

I shook my head again.

The mare shouted bitterly as she toppled a dresser, “After all the fun we fucking had together!?”

“What’re you talking about?” I asked, dodging a glass that flew past me and broke against the wall, the mare slumped down against the wall and held her face in her wings.

“I met Rose back in City Seventeen decades ago,” she murmured, “she never told me where she was truly from, but I knew she couldn’t possibly be a native, no she was far too kind to me.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, Mom and all of my ancestors came from Stable Fifty-Two… but then I remembered the message from my Investigator.

“Did my Mom come through here?”

Sturmkaller nodded, “Yeah, Rose came through, we talked for the better part of a day, learning about what happened since you and she were sealed in that fucking tomb, we had a fun night… before she left. I never thought you’d come here so soon.”

“Did she mention where she was headed?”

“No,” she hung her head slightly, “She mentioned that you were still in the stable and then she left for the northwest.”

The room was in dead silence for a long time before I asked, “Did you know my father?”

The mare stared up at me for a moment before nodding, “I never knew him personally, doubt anypony could. But he was a stallion of unyielding vision and Rose almost worshipped him like the Goddesses. No fucking clue what happened to him. It’s funny, really, Rose said as you grew up, you developed a look in your eyes that reminded her of him.”

I thought over her words, Mom never told me about my dad, not even his name, and yet this slaver, this old friend of Mom’s just told me that he was comparable to the Goddesses?

Just one more question for Mom… when I found her.

“What was his name?” I asked.

The mare was about to answer when a thunderous bellowing horn almost shook the room, calling for our attention. Sturmkaller almost flew out the door and through the buckets of cold rain we looked east.

The shadows of a massive anvil shaped pre-war air vehicle loomed hundreds of feet above us, supported by four massive black thundering clouds as it slowly drifted toward the town. A name lit up on the front, Song of the North. Dozens of smaller crafts shot out from the clouds and swooped down on Neightick.

“BATTLE STATIONS!” Sturmkaller shouted down to the crowds through a megaphone, “THE OLD GUARD IS COMING!”

The town was whipped up into a frenzy as the Regulators hastily prepared themselves for the attack.

BOOM!

Suddenly, the east gate exploded inward in a shower of sparks and splinters as dozens of soldiers wearing matching black combat armor wielding a mix of conventional and magical energy weapons thundered in through the smoke and fire. The Regulators got behind cover and returned fire on their attackers, but they were overrun easily.

Sturmkaller grabbed my collar, “Listen, go get to safety, the Old Guard don’t fuck around.”

“What about you?” I asked, she stepped over to the spare side room.

“I’ve been expecting their retaliation for a while,” her words carried a hint of pride, “now get!”

*** *** ***

Neightick was in utter chaos as I sprinted down the soaking and slick stairs with dozens of Regulators and other people toward the main floor. Bullets and magical energy bolts flew every which way around me as I ducked into a side building on one of the upper floors. Where was Umeme and the others?

Quickly thinking, I picked up a heavy assault rifle from a dead Regulator and after checking its magazine, I leaned out into the carnage. I aimed at a slaver who had climbed up to the floor just below me and shot a few S.A.T.S. aided bullets at them.

BLAM!

The rifle kicked into my shoulder hard as the first two bullets missed, but the third, fourth, and fifth bullets hit their mark in his neck and back, causing him to slip and fall over the railing into the crowds below. I ducked back into cover as a bullet grazed my shoulder pauldron, a few Regulators blew past me.

CRACK!

Suddenly, there was a loud cracking sound as the building I was in started moving! I jumped up and sprinted for the doorway just as the buildings toppled down into the river. Time slowed as I jumped at the last moment and flew through the air, slamming hard into the walkway I frantically grabbed at anything as I started slipping backwards, but I couldn’t get a perch.

Suddenly, a mouth grabbed my collar and helped lift me onto the walkway, looking up I saw Umeme standing over me. My heart lifted considerably at the sight of the handsome stallion.

“Come on!” he shouted over the rain and gun fire, helping me stand, “This is no place to die!”

“Did you find Kaldi?” I shouted, wiping some of my mane out of my eyes.

“Yes, she’s at the docks now with the others, I came back for you!”

Without wasting any more time, we ran down the walkways and stairs, shooting Regulators. As we reached the main floor, we broke into a sprint for the west gate, my new rifle slung over my shoulder slapping against my side, my lungs and legs burning.

A griffon Regulator fell from an upper floor and planted in the mud ahead of me, I quickly reached down with my telekinesis and grabbed a few of his spare magazines and stored them in my saddle bag. Above us a couple of pegasi wearing blue Enclave power armor swooped down and fired multiple beams of blue magical energy killing dozens and burning buildings. Umeme and I ducked as the pegasi swooped up and came around for another pass.

Suddenly a third pegasus wearing black Enclave power armor fired multiple bolts of fiery orange magical energy at the blue counterparts and struck one that spiraled down and crashed into a building a couple of floors up, showering the main floor in splinters and smoke.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw a few air vehicles swoop down beyond the west gate, I grabbed Umeme by his cloak and quickly pulled him into a side alley just before the gate exploded inward, killing dozens.

BOOM!

We peered around the corner, a few dozen Old Guard wielding heavy weapons piled in through the newly destroyed gate and gunned down any Regulators who stood against them before a very tall, impossibly slender pony stepped in through the smoke and fire.

“It can’t be,” Umeme’s voice was full of dread.

The new pony was clad head to hoof in ancient looking, silver colored power armor draped in a battle ragged hooded cloak of dark blue fabric with a golden dragon skull crossed over a spear and a rainbow colored lightning bolt. He stared out at the crowds through the black cloudy visor that reflected back the flickering fire around him. A cloud of golden magic glowed around his long armored spiraling horn and the cloak was pulled back revealing a pair of long armored mechanical wings that flapped strong bellows of wind that sputtered the flames away from the shattered remains of the gate.

“Democitus,” Umeme breathed, mouth gawking, “The Soul of Judgement himself.”

“The What now?” I asked baffled, glancing down at the stallion.

“One of Baltimare’s greatest champions, Ophia told me that he defends the Lonely Spyre of the Bay, what’s he doing here?”

Before I could ask what the Lonely Spyre was, a second pony stepped in through the smoke.

A pegasus wearing a pure white uniform that matched their milky white coat with a heavy overcoat of thick, dark blue wool with the same dragon skull and crossed spear and rainbow lightning bolt on their collar. Their long pale golden mane had two fiery bronze streaks and was flowing behind them in the cold wind and rain, their unseen eyes looked out from the lenses of a pair of goggles, puffs of breaths came from the filters of their fancy black respirator, and a magical energy pistol was strapped in a holster on their hip.

An unnatural silence fell and the chaos halted abruptly. The Old Guard knelt respectively to the new pony as Sturmkaller swooped down and cautiously approached them.

“Beloved Daughter Anaita,” the slaver greeted the new pony with heavy snideness, “To what do I owe this… most untimely pleasure?”

The new mare, this Beloved Daughter Anaita, looked around at the corpses that littered Neightick almost like it was below her station.

“DO NOT WASTE MY TIME, STURMKALLER! YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHY I AM HERE!” she addressed the smaller slaver with a chillingly loud and magically amplified voice that nearly shook the whole bridge and had a similar accent as the voice from my Investigator, “WHERE IS DOCTOR APPLEROSE!?”

“I’m sorry, but who-”

“DO NOT TEMPT YOUR FATE, DASHITE!” Anaita drowned out anything that Sturmkaller could’ve possibly said, “I KNOW THAT DOCTOR APPLEROSE WAS SPOTTED IN YOUR PRESENCE NOT BUT TEN DAYS AGO!”

Anaita stepped closer to the pegasus and glared down at her, not unlike a disappointed parent. She growled in a far lower voice that I could just barely hear over the rain, “My Lord Father may have tolerated your pathetic childish antics with the Regulators because you kept trade flowing, but enough is enough. Tell me where my Lord Father’s old friend has gone or you will be but a footnote in the pages of Baltimare history.”

“Old friend?” I quietly questioned to myself, ‘What was she talking about?’

Sturmkaller stood there silently for far too long, she looked back to her few remaining Regulators, before she turned back to the Beloved Daughter. “You want to know something, Anaita?” she asked, giving her a sly smile, “Have you ever wondered why I was able to lead here?”

The world almost slowed to a standstill as the armored pegasus blasted at the mare with bolts of orange magical energy that were blocked by a golden magical shield generated by the Soul of Judgement.

The shield melted away slightly for Anaita to address her troops, “No Regulator survives!”

“For Baltimare and the Beloved Daughter!” The soldiers of the Old Guards shouted as one.

The town erupted into unabated chaos once again, the Old Guards on both sides opened fire into the crowds, the few Regulators desperately tried to fight them off as Sturmkaller blasted at the Beloved Daughter. Umeme grabbed my foreleg and we sprinted out into the carnage, we kept low and ducked and dived past the Regulators as they were slaughtered without remorse.

I looked up just in time to see the Soul of Judgement stand back on his hindlegs and reach out his forehooves, they transformed into fists with five mechanical fingers each, small balls of brilliant golden magic manifested into a massive archery bow nearly as tall as he was, a second ball of golden magic manifest into a long arrow nocked into the bow string and pulled it back to behind his armored cheek between two of his fingers of his off hoof.

“Guilty!” a low ancient voice thundered out through the helmet as the armored stallion loosed the arrow.

It sliced through Sturmkaller like her armor was little more than wet paper, she split in half and her corpse sizzled and evaporated into glowing ashes before her armor even hit the bridge.

Umeme and I managed to get through the gate and into the pouring rain with a few dozen other ponies, zebras and griffons. I looked over my shoulder, the Soul of Judgement lifted his bow and nocked another arrow at us.

“Guilty!” the giant thundered as the arrow loosed.

“Look out!” I shouted, jumping into Umeme’s path.

I pushed Umeme out of the way just as the arrow sliced through the rain like a scalpel through flesh, the world slowed to a near crawl as the glowing arrowhead sliced through my cheekbone, my eye, over my brow and through my mane.

My body spiraled through the air and rain from the force, but I didn’t feel any pain as the golden magic burned away my flesh.

I didn’t feel my body slam into the muddy road, quenching the flames away.

I didn’t feel the people sprinting around and over me.

I opened my eye and strained to look up, Umeme stood there staring down at me for a painfully long moment before he sprinted off with the crowd into the night and rain. Darkness took me as I laid there in the bloody mud and cold rain, a single thought flickered in my brain like a dying flame.

I failed.

Chapter Six

Chapter Six
“These lands are dangerous… best to be on a swivel.”

A softness touched my weak body as my mind slowly opened to the world, a rhythmic beeping touched the edge of my hearing along with some slightly fainter sounds that sounded very similar to words… a faint conversation.

“...please… you don’t understand… dangerous this procedure can be… could be damaged beyond any hope of recovery… needs time to rest.”

Who were they talking about?

“No, Doctor… you’re unwilling to comprehend just how dire the situation really is… won’t last too much longer… not without her… knows that!”

I struggled to open my eyes and a blurry light flooded my vision before slowly clearing just enough for me to make out the blurry shapes of the two voices. The first voice seemed to be some kind of white bird beak face and teal body. The second voice had a blurry white face and a gold mane, she stared down at me with a pair of almost glowing pinkish purple orbs as she leaned in close enough for me to feel her hot breath. I thought I noticed ghostly lighter pink circles that almost tightened and relaxed around her pupils as she scrutinized me.

She glanced over her shoulder to the first voice, “And you’re certain of who he is?”

“Undeniably,” the first voice answered, “His… match within expected margins. Do you… contact your-”

“No,” the second voice interrupted, turning away from me, “Keep him sedated… healed enough. I’ll inform her myself.”

The first voice turned to me and hung up a plastic iv bag filled with a clear, shiny orange fluid that flowed into the tubes. My vision almost immediately blurred and blackened as I lost consciousness again.

*** *** ***

My eye slowly opened, I saw I was under a warm blanket on a bed in a clean room with two tone walls made of a strange glossy material, a foggy window let in a dull gray light, and the sweet smell of rain.

There was a poster on the wall of a unicorn stallion with a white coat, shoulder length silky fiery golden mane, and a chest length beard. He was surrounded by a large group of children: ponies, zebras and even a few griffons, all looking up to him like he was Celestia herself and he held a newborn foal bundled up in swaddling cloth close to his chest with words printed below:

Baltimare’s future lays on the shoulders of our children, what kind of world will we leave for them?

-The Good Father

“The Good Father?” I murmured, sitting up only to be blinded by slight dizziness.

After my sight cleared again, I noticed that I was wearing a patient gown made of thin blue cloth. I looked around the room and noticed the couple tubes in my foreleg below my elbow trailing to a couple of empty iv bags hanging up on a stand beside me.

I wondered what was going on, was I a prisoner? Was I going to be put to death? Wait, if that was the case, why would they bother healing me? I glanced at the empty iv bag and pulled it closer to see what it was, Hydra.

“Hydra?” I muttered quietly to myself, I remembered Mashhad mentioned a creature in the Hayseed Swamp called Hydras, was it supposed to be connected?

Suddenly a small part of the wall slid open like a door and a young mare stepped in carrying a large cardboard box on her back. She had scars covering much of the right side of her face that must’ve been from a cancerous tumor that was removed and grafted over. She wore a small set of dull gray coveralls with a set of twelve numbers printed in blue ink on her collar and flanks with black stretchy fabric wrapped tightly around her lower fore and hindlegs, she also had a black plastic and metal collar with an alternating red and blue blinking light tugging at her neck, and a clunky old PipBuck similar to Ophia’s that grasped at her swollen, lumpy, and clubbed left foreleg.

When she glanced up at me, she dropped the box on the floor and gasped loudly.

“Ah’m so sorry mista,” she blatherly squeaked with a slight Swampfolk accent, terrified, “Ah didn’t mean no trespass.”

Feeling confused, I carefully swung my sore legs over the side of the bed, “Why’re you afraid?”

“Ah… That was wrong,” she almost timidly cried, collapsing on the floor, “Ah said the wrong thing again.”

“Well, you’re up,” another pony wearing a strange hooded protective suit made of a rubbery fabric material with a matching white bird beak mask stepped through the open door behind the mare, “Had a bet going whether you’d die or not, you owe me a hundred bucks now.”

The new mare picked up an ophthalmoscope from her suit’s belt and shined a soft light into my eye, “How’re you feeling? Any headaches?”

“I… Where am I?” I asked, blinking away the light, “Am I a prisoner?”

“Don’t worry, you’re in civilized lands now,” she said, pulling out a stethoscope and pressed it to my chest and back, “Please breath deep, I’m Doctor Tenderheart and you’re at Meadowbrook Memorial hospital in The Heights.”

“Where?” I asked, confused, “I… I was in Neightick last night.”

“Last night?” the doctor asked, “You were brought in almost four days ago.”

“Four days!?” I almost shouted.

“Well, just over ninety-six hours,” the doctor explained as she finished up her tests, “You seem to be doing alright now, just have to clean you up some.”

She handed me a small mirror, I hesitantly looked down into it, the left side of my face was wrapped in bandages with a thick line of dried blood. The doctor unwrapped them carefully, as they fell away and I was met with a startling scene, starting just below my left cheek a long pale line sliced up through my left eye, over my brow, and stopped just under my maneline, leaving a roughly diamond shaped patch of light pink skin surrounding the line splitting my face roughly in half. I tried to open my left eyelids, but they wouldn’t budge, they must’ve been paralyzed or even sealed shut.

“We tried to save your eye, but there wasn’t a whole lot that could be done,” Doctor Tenderheart explained, coming around with a large piece of curved black leather with a black elastic band, “Healing potions are wondrous inventions and we’ve made interesting strides since the Last Day, but even they can’t regrow severed organs or limbs, so we had to remove the eye before it possibly festered.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening.

“We’ve placed a temporary optical shell to keep the socket’s shape while it heals, the shell should dissolve in a couple of weeks. Your face should be fine and your coat should start growing back in a few days.”

I took the eyepatch and carefully put it over my sealed eye socket, it felt pretty comfortable. Looking in the mirror again, I noticed with my beard and mustache starting to grow in I almost looked unrecognizable compared to just a few days ago.

“How much do I owe you?”

Doctor Tenderheart unwrapped the rest of the bandages, “Five hundred bucks, no bartering.”

“Where’s my gear?”

The young mare picked up the box and placed it on the bed beside me, opening it up I saw my suit, armor, and gear.

“Thanks,” I said, she squeaked something and left.

I pulled out my bucks and paid her, she wished me a good day and left so I could get dressed. I dug through my saddle bag, my brush gun was gone, left back at Neightick, and my new heavy assault rifle was gone too, but I did have the spare magazines I’d swiped along with Light, but I only had the one magazine for it.

I’d need to find a primary weapon and an ammunition vendor or something before heading west to find Mom.

I pulled my suit on and was about to pull on my armor and gear when the door slid open again. An earth pony stallion and a zebra mare with dull purple stripes stepped in, both wearing matching dark blue uniforms with the golden dragon skull, spear, and rainbow lightning bolt on armbands on their left sleeves and as small pins on their matching white berets. I glanced down to the holsters on their hips and spotted a pair of compact submachine guns made of black polymers.

“Are you the Stable Dweller from Neightick?” the stallion asked.

I swallowed hard and nodded slowly.

“Then you’ll have to come with us,” the mare continued, “Councilor Redmayne has requested your presence.”

“Why?” I asked, glancing between them to see a griffon in a matching uniform standing in the hallway with a magical energy pistol modified for his talons, “I thought I was free to go.”

“You are,” the stallion answered, “Councilor Redmayne has some questions about Neightick first, we’ve already questioned the freed slaves and the Outcast.”

Outcast? “Um… okay,” I followed them out into the hallway.

The hallways were full of doctors and nurses dressed in lab coats and white rubber bodysuits and a few ponies, zebras and griffons in similar outfits to what that young filly was wearing plotting around doing different menial tasks like cleaning out trash cans or washing windows, I thought I recognized a griffon from Neightick. The soldiers led me down the hall down a flight of stairs to the ground level and out toward a pair of double doors leading to a lobby guarded by a pair of soldiers in the same dark blue uniforms and white berets. They saluted the soldiers escorting me and we stepped out into a walled off courtyard of green grass, a small white marble statue of an earth pony mare with a vibrantly painted multicolored bird beak mask holding a potion with a plaque on the circular base, Meadowbrook Memorial Hospital.

The soldiers led me out the gate into a street of cobblestones lined by two or three story buildings made from old bricks and wood panelings that were very well cared for by their owners, but now many were under reconstruction. Hundreds of ponies, zebras, and griffons walked or flew around the streets going about their daily tasks while other workers went about doing chores like emptying trash cans or cleaning out flooding storm drains. The place had an almost unusual dream-like quality to it, I wondered if pre-war Equestria was like this.

A couple metal wagons covered in a flat dark blue paint and the dragon skull crossed with a spear and rainbow lighting bolt on them were pulled down the street by soldiers wearing dark blue tarp cloaks over their matching uniforms, the crowds parted for the convoy to pass.

The soldiers led me up the street to a small field of short green grass with a tall branching elm tree with green leaves changing to yellows and reds and a fountain with an old bronze statue of a pegasus stallion wearing old looking armor made from black stoney dragon scales, he held a spear sparking with silver lightning bolts in his mouth as he swooped down at a monstrous snake-like dragon with dozens of wings bellowing golden fire up at the pegasus with a couple of flags on a tall flagpole nearby fluttering in the cold breeze.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the statue.

“No questions,” the griffon gruffly ordered, pushing me along.

“Oh, that’s Flash Magnus,” the stallion answered, ignoring the griffon, “He led an army of dragonslayers and killed the Eternal dragon, Bahamut. His niece, Glorious Tempest established the Old Guard to honor her uncle’s sacrifice and defend Baltimare.”

Before I could ask anymore questions I was led across the park into a large four story building made from white stone with four columns in the front. A few more Old Guard soldiers stood at the double doors and inside the main T-shaped lobby, a semicircular desk with a mare tapping at a terminal. One of my escorts spoke with the mare and she pointed to a hallway to the left, they led me up some stairs to the top floor, past a few doors, and around a corner to a door labeled, Councilor E. Redmayne.

The room inside was small, a couple of windows letting in cold gray light showed me a view of a very tall wall made from dark concrete off in the distance. A small desk with an old terminal, a framed photograph and a couple of chairs sat in front of a couple of flags hanging on poles by the back wall.

The bigger flag had a gold seven pointed star in the center with seven five pointed stars of different colors surrounding it, red, blue, green, white/black, pink, gold, and gray. All on a field of deep blue. The smaller flag had the pink five pointed star on a white shield in the center of a deep blue field hung on a pole on the opposite side.

I sat down in one of the two chairs and waited for probably close to a half hour before I got really bored. I stepped over to the door and opened it a crack, the zebra and the earth pony stallion who escorted me were standing guard just outside.

“Did you need something?” the zebra mare asked.

“Uhh…” I quickly thought of something, “I haven’t had breakfast so I’m kind of hungry.”

The stallion nodded and went off to get something, leaving the zebra mare to guard the door. I sat back down and turned on my radio. I noticed that Red Eye’s signal sat dark, but DJ Pon3’s was still lit. A chorus of instruments were in a full jazzy swing as the song started quieting down before the DJ came back on.

“That was Full Night’s Last Swing and I’m DJ Pon3, but you all know who I am. It’s time for some news! This just coming in from old Haagenheim, do you all remember that Stable Dweller who killed Malys the Monstrous at The Nest what like a couple decades ago? Vanished up north without a trace? Can’t blame you if you can’t, I’m sure that most of you weren’t even born yet and the ones who can are few and far between. Well, a mare matching her description has been spotted near Fort Swelling and seemed headed to the Twin Brothers. Luck to you, Iron Angel. In other news coming in from Vanhoover-”

I clicked off the radio, Sturmkaller had mentioned fighting somebody called Malys at a place called The Nest and Tahka had mentioned that The Nest was somewhere between here and the Heartlands, maybe. And then there was the Beloved Daughter, why was she looking for Mom?

What was Mom’s past like?

Growing up in Stable Fifty-Two, she would often wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, more often than not she’d jump at loud sudden noises and she had unexplainable scars all over her body. I had always assumed they were from Radmole attacks, but after my brief experience out here….

The thought stopped when the door opened again, the earth pony stallion stepped in holding a small thermos in his mouth, he handed it to me explaining that it was a condensed meal for quick use between combat. I took a sip and tasted cold somewhat bland crawdad meat, carrots and green beans, I thanked him and he left. I stomached the cold liquid, but after a few sips I noticed that my hunger subsided. It was another few minutes before the door opened again letting in…

“Umeme!” I almost shouted, seeing the stallion safe and sound.

But then I noticed his stripes under his uniform, armor and cloak had been changed to match the green of his eyes. He offered me a tired smile, coming close, and hugging me tightly, I returned it.

“What happened to you?” I asked, looking over his new stripes, “What’re you doing here?”

“I told you, I’m Speculatores,” he mumbled, not really looking at me, “Even if we did save my Aunt Kaldi and my honor was restored, I’m still banished. I can never return to the Castrum.”

“What?” I stared up at the handsome stallion, looking for any sign that he was fucking with me… but no, he was serious, “Umeme… I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he smiled at me again, making my heart lift a bit, “Are you okay, your eye?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I smiled back, “I mean, no, my eye is… gone, but I think I’ll get the hang of this whole… cyclops thing.”

“Well, at least you look like a true Wastelander now,” He joked, I chuckled a bit.

We sat down in the chairs and waited for another few minutes before the door opened again. Councilor Redmayne was an elderly earth pony stallion with a balding mane and a chest length beard of fading copper. He wore a cleaned black suit with a solid pink tie and a small pin of the gold seven pointed star with seven five pointed stars.

“Well, good morning, you must be the Stable Dweller found at Neightick,” he greeted me politely, offering a courteous hoofshake before sitting down behind the desk, “Now, I’m certain that you have questions, to be frank the Council has some questions for you as well, if that’s that alright. We've already questioned your friend here.”

I nodded and he started reading from some papers, “Firstly, has Stable Fifty-Two decided to join the world?”

“I’m sorry?”

“We’ve attempted diplomacy with many stables across the North Shore, some like Stable Sixty-Three here in Baltimare and the Bullet Farmers of Stable Thirteen proved mutually profitable, while others like City Seventeen proved less… fruitful, and then others like Stable Ninety-One proved… well, proven to be rather problematic,” he drank some of his coffee before continuing, “We contacted Stable Fifty-Two shortly after the First Emergence War, but its leadership chose to continue their isolation, rather understandable, so further contact hasn’t been attempted since. So, has your stable chosen to join the world?”

“Um, not exactly,” I started, “I grew up believing that we were the sole remains of Equestria, we believed that the Surface was flooded with high levels of radiation and infested with mutated animals, I’m still trying to understand how things work up here.”

“Well, that’s rather interesting,” the Councilor commented, jotting something down, “We’ve heard similar stories from other heavily isolated communities and tribes. Now, in your own words, can you explain why you were at Neightick?”

I explained to the elderly stallion what had happened over the past two weeks, how I was looking for somebody important from my stable (keeping the fact that she was my Mom a secret for now), how the Outcasts would give me information about her if I helped them recover a kidnapped member who had been sold to the Regulators, so I went there to save her, then the Old Guard had attacked. The Councilor nodded and commented that Umeme had given a similar story.

Councilor Redmayne explained to me what had happened at the slaver town, the Regulators were found to be attacking and enslaving smaller townships and farmsteads in a Baltimare Territory called The Fringe and were planning to sell them to slavers across the Wastelands. So the Council, Baltimare’s elected leadership, sent in a special branch of the Old Guard called the Iudicium to eliminate the Regulators and recover the slaves. Because I wasn’t a Regulator and Umeme was an Outcast, we were sent with the freed slaves to the town of Meadowbrook in a place called The Heights.

I asked him what The Heights were and he explained that the Horseshoe Bay Union had seven states, they were Bayview, Fell’s Point, Inner Harbor, Klawstone, New Mondawmin, Port Aedstuath, and The Heights. Then there were territories scattered around the North Shore, they were the Black Isles, Gizzardpool, the Seastar Isles, Seaward Shoals, the Seven Sisters, Sokolov, most recently Splintered Rock, The Ashes, and The Fringe with the capital of Hightown being located in Inner Harbor.

He went on to explain that Baltimare’s Council had outlawed slavery within all state borders in the years following the Last Day, but it was still in a legal gray zone in most outer territories such as Gizzardpool, the Seastar Isles and the Seven Sisters. He explained that Baltimare’s constitution guaranteed and protected the rights of all citizens and visiting civilians like me and that purposefully harmful discrimination based on things like gender, ethnicity, species, sexual identities/attractions, and personal beliefs including political/religious (so long as said beliefs did not advocate violence or discrimination) was strictly illegal, though again the subject was a bit of a gray zone in the outer territories like Gizzardpool and Sokolov.

I asked the Councilor what the best way out of Baltimare to head to Haagenheim was and he explained that because Neightick and The Fringe was locked down by the Old Guard for the foreseeable future, the best way would be through the Hayseed Swamp, but if we got the approval of a high ranking member of the Old Guard, then we would be allowed one way passage through The Fringe. Umeme asked who we could ask and he told us about an old friend from his days in the Old Guard called Colonel Basken stationed at Pylon Twenty-Eight to the north.

*** *** ***

Baltimare was a massive city, but despite boasting a population of over several hundred thousand, most had consolidated themselves into towns around important locations, such as the Meadowbrook Memorial hospital. This meant that the buildings surrounding the towns were mostly left in ruin. According to a female griffon trader, the state of Inner Harbor was mostly flooded with salt water from the Bay, requiring the usage of boats and barges to get to Hightown if you couldn’t fly. The Heights were in a far better condition as many buildings were still standing and a few even had electricity, making the state a good place to live.

I looked up at the ruined two and three story buildings we passed, most were covered in vines, trees, bushes and other vegetation that shifted around in the omnipresent cold wind with dozens of animals like squirrels, mutated rabbits, rats the size of house cats, packs of feral dogs, hairy wild pigs and varies birds like pigeons, crows and hawks making The Heights resemble the forests from pre-war textbooks back in Stable Fifty-Two. One bird thing I noticed was large and covered in thick patchy dark red fur and scaly skin with long black feathers on the two pairs of wings, it was perched on a tilting lamppost and glared at us with a pair of light silver eyes. It screeched at us before the wings unfolded to the span of almost three ponies and flew away. I glanced down at my PipBuck’s map, Pylon Twenty-Eight was a few more hours to the northwest on the border between The Heights and The Ashes, after a quick bit of math in my head, we’d probably reach it by late afternoon, Fort Swelling however was closer to three days at least to the west. Seeing as how he had nowhere to go, Umeme elected to come with me to find my Mom and I was thankful for the assistance and company from the handsome stallion.

The hard gray light of the sun hung high above the slate gray skies when we came across a ruined bridge spanning a rushing river cutting through the town that was flooding from all the rain from the past few days. The sharp increase of water was causing some buildings and trees to lean dangerously on both sides, we glanced around for a way across before Umeme spotted a building a little ways up river that had partially collapsed forming a makeshift bridge.

“You sure?” I hesitantly asked, the rushing water looming a few feet below made my stomach churn slightly.

“Do you see another way?” He had a point.

I pressed my hoof against the rotting wood and old cracked bricks and almost jumped back when they shifted slightly. Umeme groaned into his hoof and pushed passed me, carefully making it about halfway before a section broke off and crumpled into the river.

“UMEME!” I shouted, the stallion quickly jumped the rest of the way and landed in a tilted house on the opposite bank with a heavy roll.

“Piece of cake,” he shouted nonchalantly over the rushing water, “Come on over.”

I exhaled and looked glumly down at the now thinner bridge, I glanced around the banks for any other way across, but no. I touched my hoof down on the bricks again and slowly carefully made my way across, putting one hoof in front of the other and keeping my eyes focused on Umeme.

“OZZY!” Umeme suddenly shouted, pointing a hoof up the river.

Glancing over I saw that a large rusty pre-war wagon wreck was being tumbled by the rushing waters and was barreling toward me. I picked up my pace and was about halfway across when suddenly-

CRAAACK!

The bricks under me started to wobble and sink and the wagon was just a few yards away from crashing into the bridge. I summoned my strength and jumped the rest of the way just as the wagon crashed into and destroyed the spot I was just a moment before.

BOOOOM!

Time slowed to a near crawl as I sailed through the cold air toward Umeme… but came up just short. Slamming hard against the bank and nearly losing my breath and strength. I started sliding back, Umeme quickly grabbed at my forelegs, my hindhooves scrambled for any purchase on the steep muddy bank, finding a thick tree root, I quickly jumped up and collapsed next to my companion. I glanced back at the bridge and saw most of it was being swept away with the wagon.

“See, piece of cake,” Umeme started chuckling to himself before getting up.

A screeching sound caught our attention, looking up I saw the same strange mutated bird from before perched on another lamppost across the river, watching us with its light silver eyes.

We continued down the road for a couple more hours before coming across a small trading town in a small grove of white birch trees that my PipBuck labeled as Grove Street Station.

The gate guard asked for our papers and we pulled out the small books backed in brown leather that Councilor Redmayne gave us. The book had a small picture of the owner with basic information about them along with their genetic details to ensure proper ownership.

The town had a small square with a couple of merchants and a food stand. I perused the merchants for bullets and found a bolt action hunting rifle with a dark oak wood stock chambered for 7.62mm, but it didn’t accept my heavy assault rifle magazines, having an integrated five round magazine. I bought it, a pistol holster, and a hundred 45 Auto bullets for the rest of my bucks.

Umeme and I sat down at a park bench to eat a lunch of potato soup, we discussed what we were going to do after leaving the country and I mentioned going to Fort Swelling and then heading up to Haagenheim.

“I don’t like it,” Umeme muttered, I asked why, “Fort Swelling is under Enclave control and there are the tribes and raider gangs to consider.”

“Fort Swelling is still the best chance to find Doctor Rose, Sturmkaller mentioned that she headed west.”

“Well, I still don’t like going to those fascists for help,” he muttered, finishing up his soup.

“Hey, what was your mom like?” I asked.

“Why?” he glanced up, looking a little annoyed.

“Just curious,” I shrugged, “we are gonna be working together, may as well get to know each other.”

“Yeah, well you know what they say about curiosity, right?”

Okay, he was sensitive about his life. I nodded, we finished up and got on the way.

*** *** ***

The gray light hung low in the clouds when we finally reached sight of our destination, a military base was built out of the crumbling buildings around the almost one hundred foot tall five sided obelisk looming over the fifty foot tall reinforced concrete walls that spread out to the horizon on either side. A number of guards patrolled the base’s walls, the pair standing by the front gate noticed us approaching.

“Papers?” a female griffon with a combat shotgun asked, we pulled out our books and she opened the doors after checking them, “Welcome to Pylon Twenty-Eight.”

The base was rather small with probably close to three thousand ponies, zebras, and griffons (both normal and ghoul) in matching uniforms and armor going about their tasks, eating, or relaxing by playing card games or listening to music in the buildings and dozens of tents that lined the street leading up to the pair of massive blast doors under the obelisk.

Umeme and I made our way through the base to the gate when suddenly an air vehicle I had seen from the attack on Neightick came out of the sky and hovered above a cleared flat pad between the buildings and the wall and slowly descended before landing on three wheels, the vehicle slightly resembled a dark blue dragonfly with a slightly different Old Guard emblem the golden dragon skull had a pair of outstretched feathered wings along with the crossed spear and rainbow lightning bolt on the fuselage, and a pair of spinning propellers on either side of the craft that could angle themselves to go in any direction. I noticed the armament was rather strong with a chin mounted magical energy gatling gun, mounted heavy barreled machine guns, and a pair of missile launchers.

When the propellers stopped spinning, side doors slid open and a small group of soldiers stepped out and began unloading crates for the landing pad crew to check before sending the packages to some tents on the side.

“Excuse me,” I caught a zebra ghoul with splotchy orange stripes’ attention, “Can we cross the gate?”

“Not very likely,” the ghoul answered a little slurred, her jaw hanging open slightly, a bit like she’d had a stroke, “not with the Ashbourne in the area.”

“Ashbourne?” I asked, “What’s that?”

“Go talk with the Colonel, he controls the gate.”

“And where is he?”

She pointed a hoof to the obelisk, Umeme and I stepped over to a set of stairs and questioned the soldier standing guard, he allowed us to climb the steep steps to come up on top of the Wall. I glanced around and saw for miles, I spotted some bright lights almost straight southeast that I guessed was Meadowbrook. I glanced north and saw a ruined suburb and landscape mostly buried in a sea of rainbow colored ashes that wafted and drifted around in the almost oddly stifling hot breeze that after the almost omnipresent coldness since I first entered this world felt very unnerving to me.

The Wall was heavily fortified with hundreds of machine gun and artillery emplacements behind sandbag walls and a few dozen ponies or zebras, I couldn’t really tell, wearing clunky powered armor stained dark blue with white trim, each one with a pair of modified light howitzers or grenade machine guns on the integrated battle saddles with large wooden and metal crates of ammunition labeled,

5000, 50 BMG, Belt

5000, 7.62mm, Belt

150, 20mm Artillery, Tungsten Canister Shot

100, 25mm Grenade, High Explosive Incendiary

I caught a bit of a conversation of a couple Old Guard soldiers stationed at a howitzer as we approached the obelisk.

“Any word from Splintered Rock?” one asked, drinking from a thermos.

“Nothing good, that’s for sure,” the second answered, puffing on a cigarette, “I’ve heard that the raiders from Wintersburg and the Snow Legs of Last Wick aren’t making things any easier.”

“I’d kill myself if I was stationed in that frozen hellscape,” the first commented.

A pair of unicorns, a stallion and a mare, were working on a partially disassembled suit of power armor in a small tent. As I got closer I noticed that the manes of both ponies were long dreadlocks with shaved sides and were entwined with colorful insulated power cords that trailed down to their mid backs. Thousands of lines of ones and zeros were burned into their hides head to hoof like a page of a book and big golden Fives were stitched into the backs of their sleeveless stable suits.

“Evening,” I greeted them, approaching, “Never thought I’d see other Stable Dwellers out here, nice to meet you two.”

The pair glanced up at me, then between each other, then back to me before the stallion stepped forward and spoke… at least I think he was speaking, he whistled in short shrill bursts interjected by clicking his tongue.

“I’m sorry?”

He brought up his clunky PipBuck and repeated his message, after a few moments a robotic voice spoke, “Though you might be Stableblood, you are not kin, please leave us to do our holy work.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, my name’s Ozzy, who are you two?”

“My Bonded and I are Cyphers from Seaward Shoals, are you from the College?”

“No, I’m from Stable Fifty-Two,” I gestured to my collar, “What’s the College?”

The mare murmured something to the stallion, he clicked and whistled something into his PipBuck, “Dwellers of Stable Sixty-Three, run the Baltimare University in Bayview, founding member of the Union, acts as their arcane science center… pompous… arrogant… view themselves as the legacy of The Holy Builders, like City Seventeen, fools.”

“I take it that you don’t like them, then.”

The stallion nodded, he clicked and whistled, “They are so wrapped in the power of the Old, they do not see the beauty in the New.”

Umeme called me over, I thanked the pair for talking with me before I hurried over. He asked a soldier standing guard at a door in the obelisk if we could see the Colonel and he asked for our papers, showing him he opened the door for us and we stepped inside to a small office, a soldier sat at a small desk typing at a terminal. She glanced up and noticed us.

“Evening,” she greeted us politely, “Can I help you two?”

“We need to cross the gate and we were told the Colonel had the authority to open it for us,” Umeme answered, stepping up to the desk.

“No offense meant, sirs,” the soldier started, glancing between us, “But Colonel Basken is a very busy stallion and doesn’t really have the time or patience to deal with civilians.”

“Councilor Redmayne granted us permission,” I said, pulling out my book for her to see, “We won’t take long and then you won’t have to deal with us again.”

She glanced over the book and after a moment she clicked a button on an intercom in the wall beside her, “Colonel Basken, sir, the stallions Councilor Redmayne radioed about are here.”

“Send them in,” a cold voice answered through the speaker, the soldier glanced at us and nodded at the door to the left, we thanked her and entered the office.

The unicorn stallion was middle aged, probably sixty, with a long silvering black mane tightly pulled back into a long braid adorned by several shark teeth and small snail shells trailed down his right shoulder, amber coat and light silver eyes. He wore a cleaned dark blue uniform under a matching dark blue overcoat with three colored cords over his left shoulder with a small outstretched silver dragon holding a torch with red gem fire on a couple black patches on his collar tabs, a large peaked officer’s cap made of white wool with gold wreath trim sat on the desk beside a terminal and a machete the size of my leg with a bleached bone handle wrapped in black cord in a black plastic sheath. The officer drank steaming black coffee from a stainless white coffee cup as he looked over some papers on a clipboard wrapped in silver magic while the mutated bird from earlier sat on a perch beside a closed window to the right of the desk, the bird glared at us with a pair of umber brown eyes.

Standing opposite the officer was a zebra stallion with inverted colors, white stripes on a black body, he wore a dark blue overcoat over a white uniform like the Beloved Daughter, his face was covered in a fancy matte black respirator, a pair of foggy black goggles were pulled onto his forehead, and he had a fancy looking magical energy pistol holstered on his hip.

“I’ll be sure to fill out a report, Vigilant Son Dadryl,” He muttered, placing the papers aside, “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

The zebra saluted and left without another word, he glanced at me as he pulled down his goggles before stepping out the door. His eyes had strange almost invisible pink circles around the pupils that shrank ever so slightly like a camera lens, I shivered slightly as he passed me.

“I’m Colonel Augustus Basken of the Blacktyde, Eddy radioed ahead to expect a pair of stallions matching your descriptions,” the officer gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk, we sat down, “As I understand it, you two want passage through The Fringe, I cannot allow that right now.”

“Why not?” Umeme asked.

“Because I need some assurance that the two of you are worth the risk to my reputation,” the Colonel explained, taking a drink of his coffee, “Even if Eddy vouches for you.”

“So what can we do to convince you?” Umeme asked.

The Colonel tapped his terminal and the small device hummed to life and a holographic map appeared just above the emitter, the map had such impossibly lifelike resolution that it felt like I could reach out and touch the ashes floating in the air, “The Ashes has been an active war zone since the end of the First Emergence War, when the Fillinois Plains were engulfed in a fungus-like plant.”

“Okay… how dangerous is it?” I asked, “Is it poisonous?”

“I wish it only was,” he muttered, taking a long swig from his drink, the projection zoomed out and scrolled further north to show us the ruins of a massive city a little bigger than Baltimare with a couple dozen skeletal skyscrapers surrounding a single building towering above all others near the center, all were covered in the twisting tendrils of vegetation that resembled a monstrous eldritch beast, “It’s said that in a span of mere hours this fungus consumed the entirety of Chicoltgo and most of the Fillinois Plains, devouring tens of thousands of lives and covering hundreds of square miles of irradiated city and farmland in a rainbow spectrum of colors that we now call The Myre.” the Colonel leaned forward, “A single spore can lead to the destruction of an entire city, if it got into Baltimare… well, it’s my sworn duty to ensure that never happens.”

“So what do you need from us?” Umeme asked, straight to the point, “You seem to have over three thousand able bodied soldiers.”

“One of my Second-in-Commands, Captain Fafnira, took a company of soldiers into The Ashes about three weeks ago to look for possible Ashbourne hideouts, we haven’t received word about their progress for a few days now. My other Second-in-Command, Major Grubolezhenka, took a battalion of troops to reinforce the lockdown in The Fringe. I can’t risk the Wall’s safety by sending out any more of my remaining troops, so I’d like to hire you two to go out into The Ashes and bring Captain Fafnira and her company back. Do this, I’ll grant you both safe passage through The Fringe.”

“Deal,” I said quickly.

“Wait a second, who even are these Ashbourne?” Umeme asked, wanting to at least know what to expect first.

“A raider tribe that’s been a constant thorn in our sides, they’re like radroaches,” the Colonel explained, pulling up an image of a pony wearing an incredibly piecemeal set of steel and leather armor over a shabby environmental suit and makeshift breathing equipment with bulky goggles and was covered head to hoof in thick ashes, “We’ve destroyed them so many times now only for them to show up again years later.”

“What do they do?”

“Typical raider things, they climb the Wall and attack towns, murdering hardworking folk, stealing their goods,” the Colonel shrugged, “You Outcasts deal with Swampfolk, right, can’t be too different.”

“Deal,” I repeated.

*** *** ***

The following morning, the gates closed behind us with a loud hiss and red lights flooded the small space before the gates in front of us opened with a loud hiss letting in a gush of harsh heat, red light and ash. Umeme and I thankfully wore protective full body environment suits made of a strange dark blue plastic-like fabric material reinforced with combat armor plates offering limited protection, Umeme had his cloak buckled around his shoulders over his gear. I felt my gas mask chafing at my face and neck, but I was very thankful for the cleaner air.

Bringing our weapons to the ready, Umeme and I stepped out into The Ashes.

According to the Colonel and my PipBuck the suburb was once called Rosedale, but now was a part of Ashes Section Twenty-Eight. We stepped out into a four lane road with a few scattered pre-war vehicles and ruined buildings similar to those in The Heights.

Two paths presented themselves to us, the four lane road headed north toward Chicoltgo and the other headed northwest. We had a vague idea of where to start, the Colonel mentioned a location called the Rosedale Hotel, it was an Old Guard field base before it was abandoned during the Second Emergence War. He gave us an access card to deactivate the building’s security systems if they were still functional. The problem was that the base was deep in the buried maze of a suburb and most likely would require moving through some collapsed buildings that could be full of Goddesses knew what. We headed north.

We were taking it at a reasonable pace, with such a large area to cover and the possibility of Ashbourne hiding in any number of places. My E.F.S. wasn’t being very helpful either, a yellow tick that could’ve been a raider more often turned out to be a mutant animal like crickets the size of house cats or packs of hungry feral dogs.

We were a couple blocks in when we came across a large ash hill that blocked the road, so we had to find a detour by taking a tight alley between two collapsed buildings, I carefully got down on my knees and elbows and belly crawled under the rumble for a few yards before finally coming upon a small shadowy rectangular alcove behind a few more ruined buildings with a few rusted benches mostly buried and a flickering light from a couple vending machines cast shadows across the ash hills, Sparkle-Cola and Sunrise Sarsaparilla, with a third a couple yards away: Ironshod’s Ammo Emporium. My PipBuck pinged and my E.F.S. flashed a name, Orion Solutions First Office.

We crossed the small park and entered into a building’s lobby through the blown open front doors, the room was a bit small with a semicircular heavily charred desk at the center with sandbag reinforcements and partially melted steel barricades on either side. I noticed the old concrete walls looked… melted? The steel rebar was twisted and drooping, reaching out with my magic I tried to bend the steel and to my surprise it moved like a cooked noodle. But how was that possible? Surely concrete couldn’t melt… could it?

“Ozzy,” Umeme caught my attention, he was kneeling beside something partially buried in ash.

A body… he was kneeling beside a heavily charred corpse wearing a protective armor suit that was partially melted into her blackened flesh leaning against a barricade with a large hole in her forehead just above her melted gas mask from where she was shot. I glanced around the lobby and noticed close to a dozen similarly charred corpses half buried in the ash, meaning they must’ve been dead for a couple of days at least. Umeme knelt down and started picking them over, but came up empty.

My PipBuck suddenly pinged and the Investigator scanned the bodies through my suit sleeve, the device pinged again and projected a scrambled scene of a few soldiers defending intact barricades, a couple of the soldiers already laid dead where they were now. Suddenly the front doors exploded inward and a number of ponies, zebras, and griffons funneled in.

“Sergeant, we need to fall back!” a soldier shouted over the gunfire to another soldier, “Alert the Wall!”

“Never!” the second soldier shouted back, “We are the Old Guard, the Fighting Spirit of Balti-”

Suddenly the second soldier’s head exploded, painting the wall with blood, brain and bits of skull. The first soldier scrambled out of frame just as a couple of crazed ponies jumped over the desk screaming for blood.

“GIT YER ASS BACK HERE CITY BOY!”

Suddenly a monstrous almost earsplitting thunderous roar ripped through the projection shaking the walls around us, the crazed ponies tried to jump back to safety, but most of the lobby was engulfed in what looked like flames.

“What… was that?” Umeme asked, getting up.

“I don’t know,” I rubbed my hood covered ears, “It also just occurred to me that we didn’t ask the Colonel what Captain Fafnira looks like.”

“We find her company, then they’ll get us to her.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Come on, let’s go.”

*** *** ***

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

I ducked behind an old desk as the wall mounted turrets spat their bullets at me. Umeme targeted a turret and the offending machine exploded in a shower of twisted metal and sparks. I slipped into S.A.T.S. and got off a couple shots from my hunting rifle at the remaining turret, before time resumed and it exploded, the domed machine managed to get a shot off that sliced through my environment suit’s built in upper foreleg armor plate. I collapsed back in the ash on the floor and clutched at my wounded upper leg.

We’d been in the office building for probably close to a couple of hours now and had probably explored a third of the large twisting maze of hallways and rooms. We were finding a lot of ancient skeletons with long rusted weapons and ancient rusty suits of bulky power armor marked by a set of gears with a sword in a red apple outline with pony skeletons trapped inside. Then there were fresher bodies of both Old Guard and Ashbourne buried under ash.

The building probably hadn’t been explored in the centuries after the Last Day and it’s pre-war robot security had gone dormant and were buried in ash or under rubble. But it looked like they had reactivated when the Old Guard and the Ashbourne’s fighting triggered it and were quickly slaughtered.

From what I’d seen so far the robots had a couple types, one that had tracks and glass domed heads with what looked like real brains and the other was on hovering jets with multiple limbs ending in different weapons like plasma welding torches and buzzsaws.

The thought of real fleshy brains being used in ponicidal robots made me sick, about as sick as the thought of eating other people or raping and killing children. The two hundred years of constant operation, probably little to no maintenance, and the hostile environment of The Ashes also did horrible things to their sanity.

“DIE MINISTRY PIGS!” A hovering robot shouted on screeching speakers, a jet of oily gel sprayed the walls and my desk before a blistering flame shot out from the welding torch.

Umeme pulled me to the safety of a small bathroom before targeting the robot’s propulsion jet, the metal casing dented under the concentrated explosions before the hovering robot staggered mid flight. The robot crashed into a rusty fire extinguisher on the wall, which caused a cloud of ancient soapy foam to explode, smothering most of the fire out before it could get too out of control.

Many of the hallways and rooms were blocked by ash that piled in from outside and it was taking a ridiculous amount of our time to find a way through. We had climbed to an upper floor when turrets mounted in the walls and on the ceiling flipped out and started shooting at us with armor piercing bullets. We’d already killed a few turrets and robots, but the building’s long dead owners had been rather enthusiastic with defence, my E.F.S. told me there were at least another four hostiles moving around on this floor alone. I focused my magic on the bleeding gash in my upper leg covering it in a small pink cloud and the bleeding stopped leaving a small pink line. Umeme helped me up and we continued down the hallway, weapons at the ready.

We entered a side room and found it mostly buried in ash from a hole in the collapsed ceiling, but in the corner was a broken window letting in harsh ash and red light on a hot wind and an Ashbourne corpse lay slumped in a swivel chair with a hoof-made rifle beside them.

A poster on the wall showed a smiling elderly earth pony mare with obtrusively pink coloration, her curly cotton ball mane was streak in silver making her look like a candy cane and her large blue eyes bore into my soul even through the ancient poster. Bold words printed below her proclaimed that PINKIE PIE IS WATCHING YOU FOREVER! Somebody had added another word across the mare’s face, WHORE!

“Well,” Umeme muttered, glancing out the window, “We’re not getting down through here.”

Turning away from the poster I glanced out the window, we were easily a few stories off of the massive ash hills overlooking a large six lane highway that sliced north and south before being stopped by the Wall. The Ashes spread out eastward to the horizon line with the skeletal remains of another suburb off in the distance.

Umeme went back to the hallway, but I took a moment to pick over the corpse’s saddle bag and came up with a couple rolls of bandages and a small box of 7.62mm bullets with black painted tips. I put the bullets in my saddle bag and picked up the rifle to look it over, the weapon was made from steel and copper pipes that was screwed and lashed onto a stock of roughly shaped wood by wire wrapped around the long steel pipe barrel and bent steel plates forming a makeshift receiver with a long bolt used as the trigger, the bolt was made from a solid cylinder block of steel with a bolt screwed in the side as the handle and was locked closed by a heavy gauge spring. I opened the chamber and a spent casing tumbled out into the ash on the floor, picking it up I noticed something exceptionally scary, the primer had flattened and was blackened from burns. The bullet had failed to overpressure.

Picking up some more of the spent bullet cases on the floor, all of their primers had flattened and were blackened from burns. In all of my years working as a gunsmith I could honestly say that this rifle scared me.

Guns were supposed to be meticulously crafted devices that, if constructed correctly, should contain the pressure from firing the bullet it was chambered for and if there was a failure, a good gun should be built to fail in the safest way possible to limit harm to the shooter.

That is why shitty hoof-made guns fucking terrify me. Thankfully it was useless, the receiver spring was broken and the bolt hung open. But the scope looked to be in reasonable shape, so I carefully unscrewed it from its base and attached it to my own hunting rifle before following Umeme.

We continued down the hallway and rounded a corner before finding a massive hole going down several floors, dust and ash hung in the stagnant air. A desk hanging on the edge a floor down tilted the rest of the way and went tumbling down into a large pile of rubble and ash at the bottom.

“Great,” Umeme muttered, glancing around for a way down.

Suddenly bullets shot up at us from a couple of turrets a couple floors down, we backpedaled away from the edge and the bullets stopped. I loaded the black tipped bullets into my rifle before getting down on my belly and crawled up to just before the edge, Umeme picked up a skull and chucked it over the edge.

The turrets fell for the trick, shooting at the new object as it plummeted toward the rubble and ash pile. I quickly aimed at the machines and time slowed into a crawl as I slipped into S.A.T.S. targeting their shells. Time quickly corrected itself and one machine sparked and exploded, but the second bullet missed its target. The machine noticed me and swung up with murderous intent, bullets peppered the ceiling above me. I reeled back and waited for S.A.T.S. to recharge, when it did, I scooted back to the edge, time slowed to a crawl again as I slipped back into S.A.T.S. my scope’s crosshairs squared on the machine, I targeted its sensor and fired off a bullet.

Time corrected itself and the machine exploded this time.

Umeme and I backtracked down the hallway to find a way down, we went back to the restroom with a broken toilet, a leaky sink gurgling with filthy water and a closed window. Umeme pried it open and a gust of ash flew in, the window opened up to a rusty old fire escape that hung slightly precariously on rusty chains and bolts. Umeme glanced at me for a moment and I shook my head, but he climbed onto it anyway.

“Why ask for my opinion if you do the thing anyway?” I asked rhetorically.

“Illusion of choice?” he replied.

I facehoofed on my gas mask before watching him scoot across the ancient steel structure, he was most of the way across when the fire escape groaned threateningly.

“UMEME!” I shouted, the stallion quickly jumped into an open window just before his perch collapsed down several stories into the hidden alcove below.

“You okay?” I shouted over the wind, he waved a hoof back.

“There has to be another way through.”

Hopefully.

*** *** ***

Attention to all Orion Solutions Inc employees:

In conjunction with our improved safety and protection protocols, all employees in pay grades 4 to 7 are to be issued with a standard law enforcement grade firearm. This firearm is to be worn in the issued holster at all times when on company property, failure to comply or failure to keep your issued firearm in proper maintenance will result in immediate disciplinary action including possible termination under employee uniform policy 15-G.

In the event of an incursion of any Orion Solutions Inc private properties by government forces, all pay grade 1, 2, 4, and 5 employees are required to protect all Orion Solutions Inc proprietary properties and Star grade personnel. All pay grade 1, 2, 4, and 5 employees are therefore required to attend at least three to four Defense and Teamwork-Building weekend programs this month, any failure to comply will result in immediate disciplinary action including possible termination under employee attendance policy 9-H.

I’d read that same message across the few working terminals I’d hacked into now, it didn’t make any more sense to me now than the first time. I closed off the terminal and trekked back into the hallway.

The overhead lights flickered on for a few seconds before vanishing again as I ventured through cautiously, my flashlight’s beam slicing through the dust and ash that filled the stagnant air like a knife. This floor was much lower and was buried in ash blocking out the harsh light and hot wind from outside, making the space much cooler by comparison, a welcomed change. On the peeling walls were more posters from the Ministries, so far all had been defaced saying things like, LIARS!, THIEVES!, TRAITORS!, and FALSE IDOLS!

There were also a lot more skeletons and broken robots down here, often in defensive positions by blocked off doors and hallways. Passing a mare’s bathroom I rounded a couple of corners and was stopped by yet another blockage, I retraced my steps to the mare’s bathroom and carefully opened the door, it squealed on its rusty hinges. The small room inside was mostly flooded by filthy murky water bubbling up from the broken plumbing, checking the stalls I found a griffon skeleton huddled in one of the middle ones. The skeleton was clutching a small locket to their chest, carefully picking up the jewelry, I saw a small picture of a young griffon inside. I carefully returned the locket and continued checking the stalls before coming across a shattered wall that led to a large office room that was a mess of partially buried desks and filing cabinets.

Stepping inside, I plotted between the desks searching each one I could for anything of use, finding dozens of rounds of armor piercing ammunition for Light. As I searched the room I caught the soft faded green light of another working terminal, flicking it on, the green screen hummed to life. Along with the constant message from before there was additional information.

Evacuation Policy, Employee Version:

We here at Orion Solutions Inc value your commitment to the company. In the possible event of a federal raid, or worse, it is the duty of all employees to bodyguard and ensure the safe evacuation of all personnel in the following order:

Presidents of Orion Solutions Inc Companies
Members of Executive Management
All Star grade Personnel on property
Members of Mid-Level Management/Floor Supervisors
Employees with Bronze, Black and Gold Level clearance
Employees with Orange and Purple Level clearance
Employees with Blue and Green Level clearance
Employees with White and Red Level clearance

Once all of the above have been safely evacuated from the property, we encourage you to make your way to your assigned evacuation zones. To better ensure your safety, we are issuing military grade armor-piercing ammunition to all pay grade 1, 2, 4, and 5 employees.

I looked through the rest of the terminal and found a private message that wasn’t on the other sparse working terminals.

Re: Ollie:

I heard that Morale got her. Charges of suspected illentent against the Crown, right. MoM agents broke down her door in the middle of the night and hauled her whole family off somewhere. Probably got sent up north to the Smiling Isles.

Management is a complete oil fire, they’re positive Ollie is gonna spill something, or even worse.

Fuck these peashooters, I’m headed to Shining Jade’s in St Haul tonight to pick up my husband’s shotgun.

PS: Thanks again for those Blue Notes, I know they must’ve cost their weight in gold.

I closed out of the terminal and continued on my way, suddenly a large explosion rocked the building from somewhere upstairs, support beams cracked as the ceiling above me splintered.

I jumped out a door just before the room was buried, dust and ash kicked up and clouded around me choking my filters. Clicking on my flashlight, I carefully stood and leaned against the wall as I stumbled down the hall for a few yards before bumping into another blockage. Looking around for a way through, I spotted a cover leaning on the wall, moving it to the side I found a tight tunnel made from an air conditioning duct. After making sure it was clear enough for me to squeeze through, I holstered my rifle and pulled out Light, I got down on my belly and crawled into the duct.

The duct creaked and groaned and banged as I concentrated on putting one hoof after the other, my suit occasionally snagging on the odd bit of metal. After a few twists and turns I found a grate, thankful for the exit, I pushed my body against it and after a few swift wacks, it popped off tumbling down… and me with it.

The sudden light blinded me as I tumbled down several feet into a pile of ash, fixing my mask, looking around. I was back in the room with the massive hole near the middle. I straightened myself out and picked up Light, just then bullets rang out from an upper floor. A smoking robot plummeted into the rubble pile below, I glanced up and saw Umeme.

“What happened?” I shouted up.

“Leaky gas pipes, I threw a grenade.” He shouted back, “Can you see a way up?”

I glanced around my floor before spotting a set of stairs across the hole, I pointed it out to Umeme and he agreed.

“Okay, we’ll meet up later.”

*** *** ***

I was getting really tired of this place when I finally made it to Umeme’s floor. I sat down on a small stool next to a makeshift barricade and took a few moments to catch my breath, my throat was dry and my lungs hurt.

“Umeme!” I hoarsely shouted, “Where are you?”

Suddenly a brain-bot rolled out of a room and aimed its claws at me, a beam of red energy shot out and melted an apple shaped wall clock beside me, I ducked behind the barricade.

“Surrender, Ministry Dog!” the robot shouted, a couple more beams shot at me, making the metal desk start to glow dangerously.

I readied my rifle for the fight when suddenly the robot exploded, when the hallway stilled I got up and saw Umeme standing over the smoking headless metal corpse, claws twitching.

“Umeme!” My heart swelled as I scrambled up and hugged him.

“Now then,” He lowered his rifle and grinned at me, “Shall we get out of here?”

I nodded.

“I think there’s a way out this way,” he gestured down the hall he came from.

As we made our way down the narrow hallway I noticed that the large rooms with a lot of desks were being replaced by more private offices with just a few desks. We came out to an open room with a single semicircular desk and a logo of a blue seven pointed shooting star with a silver sword as the seventh point painted on the wall behind it. The room was littered with skeletons and a few more suits of rusty power armor buried in ash and rubble.

“I know this place,” I whispered mostly to myself.

“What?” Umeme asked.

I was about to repeat myself when a loud clicking echoed out and suddenly the logo section of the wall slid open revealing something that could only be described as the mutant bastard of a Steel Ranger and a monstrously huge crab. Its four powerful legs ended in wicked spikes that carried it above the desk and crushed the bones of long dead skeletons. I counted three weapons, a pair of miniguns and a rotating missile launcher on its domed back.

“Oh,” I muttered under my breath, “That just isn’t fair.”

“This is private property, Ministry Dogs!” the robot shouted, weaponry raising to the ready, “Surrender now and your deaths will be swift!”

“RUN!” Umeme shouted, quickly grabbing me, we sprinted back down the hallway.

A rocket arrowed past us and exploded as we rounded a corner, the walls behind splintering loudly as the crab-bot crashed after us. We rounded another corner that led to the room with the large gaping hole, the crab-bot thundered past before correcting itself and charging down the hallway, spike legs kicking up dust, ash and debris. As we sprinted I noticed a pipe jutting out of the wall just before the hole, the crab-bot was barreling at us and the distance closing quickly.

I grabbed Umeme’s cloak just before jumping up and grabbing the pipe. We swung around just out of reach as the crab-bot flew past us and plummeted several stories into the chasm, landing with a thunderous crash. My lungs burned in my chest and my filters restricted my breathing, Umeme handed me a couple clean circular filters, I thanked him. Holding my breath, I carefully replaced my mostly clogged filters with the newer ones and cleaner air filled my lungs.

“Did we kill it?” I asked, calming my heartbeat.

“I don’t think that it’s getting back up anytime soon,” Umeme answered, glancing over the edge.

I scooted over and glanced down. The crab-bot was pinned twitching and sparking underneath a large support beam.

*** *** ***

The crab-bot was guarding the Orion Solutions Inc Executives’ offices. Each office labeled by a small rusty brass plaque with their names and the departments they were in charge of. The desks were reinforced with plates of thick steel, to be used as a quick barricade should the attackers manage to get this far.

Many of the private offices were occupied by the skeletons of long dead people, some had holes in their skulls saying that they had committed suicide instead of fighting off their attackers. We searched every room for anything of use, Umeme found more armor-piercing ammunition, but there wasn’t too much else of note so we continued on to the next office, Jonagold-Office of Intercompany Affairs.

The office was smaller than all of the others, the glass of the window was broken and jagged letting in harsh red light and ash on the hot breeze. An L shaped desk in the center had a working terminal and Umeme pointed out a small safe hidden in the corner. Activating the hacking system I had to back out four times before the password illuminated, Convergence, inside the boxy computer were three options, Read emails, Reboot connection to company mainframe, and Unlock safe. Umeme went to check on the next room while I unlocked the safe and tried to reboot the connection… Unknown Error.

Evacuation Policy, Executive Version:

In the possible event of a federal raid, or worse, it is the duty of all employees to bodyguard and ensure the safe evacuation of all personnel in the following order:

Presidents of Orion Solutions Inc Companies
Members of Executive Management
All Star grade Personnel on property
Members of Mid-Level Management/Floor Supervisors
Employees with Bronze, Black and Gold Level clearance
Employees with Orange and Purple Level clearance
Employees with Blue and Green Level clearance
Employees with White and Red Level clearance

Once all of the above have been safely evacuated from the property, we encourage you to proceed to the location of your objectives assigned by Doctor Orion.

Below that was a second message.

Ms Jonagold, your objective and its location are below:

Objective: Redirect all spark generators to Orion Solutions First Offices
Location: Hippocampus Energy Station #30, Rosedale, Horseshoe Bay

Checking the safe I found a couple old faded bags of pre-war money and some old folders with business papers, worthless, but behind those were a couple small manila colored boxes, each with the picture of a small rampant dragon wearing a crown on a checkered shield with words printed below,

Donaustahl GmbH
50, 9mm
Vollmetall Mantel Runden

“Anything?” Umeme asked.

“Some pre-war money and these cartridges,” I pulled them out and showed him, “Your pistol uses them, right?”

“Yes, thank you,” he took the bullets and put them in his saddle bags for later, “I found another locked safe in the next room.”

After a few moments of looking it over, I determined it could be opened if we had a lockpick. Umeme gave a half hearted chuckle through his gas mask and whipped out a small bobby pin and his long curved knife, after a few moments and one more bobby pin, the lock clicked open.

Looking through it I found an old leather bound book with a small gold sword on the cover, quickly opening it, the pages were blank, but I found a small plain looking key hidden deep inside. Picking it up I was about to throw it back into the safe with the book when I swore I felt the tiniest ghostly echo of something at the far edge of my mind, much like when I found Light. I don’t know why, but I carefully placed the key into one of my bandolier’s pockets for later.

“Anything good?” Umeme asked, I showed him the blank book and he shrugged, tossing it aside, “The Ancients were weird sometimes.”

We continued through the executive offices to a set of double doors that must’ve led to the President’s office suite, a small rusty plaque by the doors read Pozzelle Fiddle-President, the small waiting room outside was full of dozens of skeletons of ponies, zebras, and even a few griffons all in tattered faded fabrics that must’ve been business suits. The skeletons were piled up on the doors, like they were trying to get inside.

Umeme checked the locks and after a dozen bobby pins and just as many words that seemed like curses to me, the doors swung opened.

The office suite inside was much larger than the others with three large windows on the back wall that were cracked and splintered, but they still held against The Ashes outside so the office was very clean. Before the windows was a large semicircular desk with a single terminal in the center, on either side were large bookcases full of old books, and on the hardwood floor was a large carpet of what looked like a star chart.

Bouncing about the room was a small spherical robot that was cleaning the furniture and surfaces by scanning them with a small green light. Umeme checked the bookcases and found several small hidden safes, picking them all cost him a couple bobby pins, but he was netted with a small plastic security passcard, he nickered lowly at the irony. I checked the terminal only to find it unlocked, a small mercy. Along with the Executive Evacuation Policy, there was another more personal letter.

Polly,

We have known each other since our days at Monacolt and we have grown our company to an incredible scale these many years.

But, if you’re finally reading this message, then the time has come. Make your way to your assigned evacuation zone and proceed to Site A, further instruction will be provided upon your arrival, I will ensure the safety of Pottis and Pippy. All other company presidents will proceed to their assigned zones for the activation of Project Aegis.

May history remember us as saviors instead of traitors.

Orion

I closed out of the terminal and glanced around the office, noticing that one of the bookcases on the wall was slightly out of alignment. Stepping over, I pulled it open and exposed an elevator. Pressing the button, the doors slid open and Umeme and I stepped inside and the doors slid closed. The elevator lurched before slowly descending for a long time, a soft bit of jazz started playing from hidden speakers.

*** *** ***

Finally at the bottom, the doors slid open and we saw a long empty hallway, the overhead lights flickered on and I noticed the white glossy surfaces were impossibly clean, not a speck of dust anywhere. After the harshness of The Ashes… this place felt… I reached up and removed my gas mask, to my shock the air was just as clean as Stable Fifty-Two.

“This is creepy,” Umeme muttered, taking off his own gas mask.

I stepped forward and he followed, our hooves clicked on the glossy floors as we approached a door with a small glassy domed magic eye.

I took the passcard from Umeme and pressed it against the eye, the eye scanned the card and beeped happily, “Welcome, Mrs President.”

Inner mechanisms in the door hissed and grinded as it slid open, revealing a small circular room inside, the curved walls were lined in exceptionally advanced looking computer machinery with a chest height pedestal in the center.

“This is REALLY creepy,” Umeme repeated, looking around for an exit.

I stepped closer to the pedestal, its big red button glowed and dimmed a soft red light, a terminal screen beside it lit up and the machinery around us slowly hummed to life and some gemstones embedded in the center of the floor and in the ceiling that were aligned in a rectangle with dozens of cords trialing into the machinery.

I raised my hoof to the button, but Umeme stopped me, “What are you doing?”

“This place was attacked by the pre-war military, not just regular soldiers, but Steel Rangers,” I glanced down at the pedestal, “And this place was expecting them too, all the armor piercing bullets, robots and weapons. Why?”

“Obviously they were traitors,” he retorted, waving his hoof around the room, “This stuff could set off a megaspell for all we know, do you really want to find out?”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Before he could stop me again, I pressed the big button and the machinery kicked into gear. The room started to violently shake as the gemstones lit up, a rectangular outline made of piercing white light appeared like a doorway… but then it flickered out and the room went quiet and still again.

Confused, I glanced down at the screen,

ERROR
Insufficient power reserve….

*** *** ***

“That was incredibly stupid of you,” Umeme grumbled over his shoulder, “This whole place could’ve gone up in green fire, then what?”

“But it didn’t have enough power,” I countered, “Amazing that building was still standing with all that damage.”

“It was still stupid and careless,” Umeme stopped and quickly turned on me, “If we are going to be traveling together, you need to be more careful, think something through before doing it. What if you repaired a gun, but forgot a pin?”

“I’ve honestly never been that drunk.” That was stupid.

He glared daggers down at me, clearly fighting the urge to hit me for my smart mouth, but he lowered his hoof and continued down the street. It was getting dark when we entered a small fenced in triangular park of long dead grass surrounding a burnt skeletal tree with an old burnt wooden swing that swayed slightly in the softer hot breeze. As we explored the suburb I noticed how a lot of the buildings and homes were boarded up, like the pre-war inhabitants had escaped, but were convinced that they could return.

“It actually isn’t too bad,” I commented, Umeme glanced at me for a moment, “Well I’m not saying I’d like to have a summer home here, but the way the ashes drift around does make it look quite lovely.”

We split up to search the park for any sign of a battle, dusting through the ash piles I mostly found scrap cans or the occasional bleached skeleton of long dead ponies or zebras.

Suddenly my E.F.S. flashed a yellow marker, raising my rifle to the ready I spotted a large hole in a collapsed two story house across the northwest street. A cricket scuttled into the street and looked around, I lowered my rifle and shook my head. The crickets weren’t worth the bullets so I’d been squishing them under my hooves, plotting into the street I was about to squish the ugly bug… when my E.F.S. flashed a red marker behind it.

My ears perked up when something very large slowly moved around in the collapsed house and flattened when a massively long shiny black scorpion-like tail with a knife length barb dripping with glistening fluid slowly reached out from the darkness and deftly stabbed the cricket through its back and pulled it into the hole.

My heart plummeted in a cold rush as the creature seemed to focus its attention on the intruder who just blithely clopped by its den. A carrion stench wafted out that was so foul I swore I could smell it through my filters. The creature slowly crawled out from the darkness and I got far more of a view of it than I could’ve ever possibly wanted. It looked like a large hulking lion with short beige fur, no mane, a pair of massive bat wings, and the long scorpion tail.

It glared down at me with a pair of sickly yellow eyes and licked its red bloody lips sending a hard cold shiver up my spine, there was only one thing I could say… “Holy shit.”

“OZZY!” Umeme shouted, “GET DOWN!”

Suddenly a trio of small explosions ripped one of the creature’s ears in half, it roared in pain and glared around for where its new hidden assailant had come from. Using the moment of confusion, I somehow summoned my strength, spun around on the spot, and bucked both my hindhooves up into its face.

Easily one of the dumbest ideas I’ve ever had, it was like kicking a fucking brick wall!

Instead of knocking it back, I sent myself forward in a faceplant. The creature glared down at me with a bloody head and nose, lifting its massive forepaw up it brought down the knife length claws on my back. If it hadn’t been for my suit’s built in armor, the blow would’ve definitely severed my spine… instead, a white hot sharp pain sliced through my back and my body screamed in pain.

The creature loomed over me, blood dripping onto my mask, obscuring my vision, I swallowed a hard lump in my throat and time slowed to a near crawl as it raised its bloody claws to kill me, but then a faint shimmering caught my eye and another trio of explosions to its shoulders drew the creature’s attention again. Time sped up again as I wiped the blood from my visor and somehow managed to get to my hooves before sprinting as fast as my body and the ash would allow me.

The chase was short, the creature was at least several stacked apple carts.

The scorpion tail swiped at my side, sending me flying. I hit the street and rolled into a wagon, my head was in a daze. The creature charged, tail barb flicking this way and that as I struggled to my hooves.

“Over here, you overgrown kitten!” Umeme shouted, spraying more explosions at the creature, “Ozzy, run!”

Blood and flesh erupted from the creature’s foreleg, it stumbled, claws missing my face by mere inches and crashed into a streetlight, ripping it out of the sidewalk and toppled with a loud thud. It roared in pain as it slowly struggled to its feet. Umeme’s hoofprints dashed across the ash covered street, he materialized by my side and pulled me to stand.

We sprinted down an alley, the creature bounding up behind us quickly. We rounded a corner into a street, the creature over shot us and slammed into a wagon sending up a cloud of ash before stumbling up and resuming its chase. We sprinted into a second alley, the creature bounding closer and closer.

Umeme quickly spun around and fired some more bullets at a rusty old fire escape causing it to fall behind us, blocking the creature for a few precious moments. We entered a large plaza in front of a large multistory building that had a ruined neon sign of a rose labeled as Rosedale Hotel. We veered east to a nook in the high brick walls and jumped over a dumpster. The creature had gotten past the fire escape and was bounding through the plaza, crashing through wagons buried in ash hills. We rounded a corner and Umeme took a moment to spray some aimed explosions, slowing the hulking beast slightly before his rifle clicked loudly, the bolt jammed closed.

The creature slammed into the dumpster, paws flailing trying to get to us, barbed tail striking holes in the walls. I pulled out Light and slipped into the crystal clearness of S.A.T.S. before firing a few bullets into the trapped creature. The first bullet struck the creature’s shoulders and wings and the last couple struck its tail, slicing the barb so it hung on by a thread.

The creature roared in pain, backing off just enough for us to feverishly dig through the hill and find a partially boarded up window. I bashed at the weakened boards with the butt of my rifle. The rusty nails quickly gave out under my strikes and the boards fell a dozen feet down into the semi buried staircase. Umeme scrambled through the small opening and plopped onto the ash below, I quickly followed just before the creature slammed into the window.

We scrambled up the stairs away from the creature to a safer spot, the creature thrashed around to get through the window, but soon stopped and slunk off annoyed. We hurried into a room with a large ruined bed and took a moment to breath.

“What was that damned thing?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.

“Manticore,” Umeme answered, taking a moment to clear his rifle and failing.

“Manticore?” I repeated, if I went the rest of my life never seeing that damned thing again, it’d be too soon.

“Very little in the world can hurt them,” Umeme continued, still trying to clear his rifle and still failing, “Thankfully that one was young.”

“I might be able to fix that for you,” I offered, my partner sighed heavily before handing over his rifle.

I removed the magazine to make it safer before carefully examining it. Taking out my tool kit, I got to work, but after a few minutes and field stripping the firearm, I found myself at a loss of how to fix the problem with the parts at hand. Umeme silently reassembled his rifle and took mine in exchange and we got up to start looking around for the company of soldiers like we were supposed to.

*** *** ***

The hotel was in an incredibly horrid state like most of The Ashes, the flowery wallpaper was peeling off of the groaning and creaking walls around us, the overhead lights flickered dimly and with the sun dropping quickly, my flashlight was a necessity. Umeme took the lead, my hunting rifle at the ready. Most of the dangers so far were large crickets that had managed to dig their way inside, another danger was the manticore stacking us outside.

As we plotted around the maze of rooms and hallways I noticed how there weren’t any clear signs of any recent habitation, all of the corpses so far were ancient skeletons mostly buried in ash or debris. But that thought quickly changed when Umeme’s foreleg stopped me, I glanced down and noticed a thin wire close to the floor, glancing around I spotted a small cloth bundle hanging from the ceiling by a similar thin wire. I carefully reached up with my magic and Umeme used his knife to cut the wire and the bundle fell into my magic grasp, bringing it down I untied the top and was greeted by three to four frag grenades, he handed me one. We rounded a corner and spotted a zebra corpse dressed in dark blue armored gear with a combat shotgun slumped against a wall beside a door.

“Ok,” I said, picking up the shotgun, “We know the company was here recently at least.”

The weapon was broken sadly, its bolt had come off of its broken guide rods and springs and it had no magazine, if I had the parts I thought I could fix it though. I slung it over my shoulder with the bag of loose 12 Gauge shells with red bands.

Umeme pushed open the door and we entered a large dining room full of ruined furniture and several long tables, one was broken in half by a large chandelier that had fallen from the high ceiling. The room was littered with dozens of fresh corpses of both Ashbourne and Old Guard strewn about the place leading toward a set of double doors across the room.

“Be careful,” Umeme muttered, glancing around for any hostels.

I looked around at the high walls and noticed a badly faded mural that started at the stained glass windows and wrapped around the room before stopping back at the other side of the same windows.

The first panel showed unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies working together to build a small town on the banks of a large bay.

The second panel showed a now much larger town being attacked by a horde of hundreds of dragons led by a monstrous snake-like black dragon with dozens of wings. The town was being defended by a pegasus wearing ancient armor made from black dragon scales and held a spear sparking with rainbow colored lightning bolts leading an army of thousands of ponies with similar armor and weapons against the dragon horde.

The third panel showed an earth pony wearing a set of strange looking icy blue plate armor and an animal pelt on his shoulders kneeling before a unicorn wearing a set of old looking steel armor with a dark blue cloak with the golden dragon skull, spear and rainbow lightning bolt of the Old Guard and a golden crown shaped with seven points, the earth pony was holding up a black axe with a long handle, both leaders were before massive armies hundreds strong.

The fourth panel showed a pegasus wearing the same armor, cloak and crown as the third panel leading an army of ponies against an army of griffons, kneeling before her was a griffon wearing armor made with gray discs and holding up a gold egg.

The fifth panel showed a unicorn leading an army of ponies and griffons against an army of zebras in a devastated swampland, kneeling before the unicorn was a zebra wearing a set of lorica segmentata and offering up their sword.

The sixth panel showed an earth pony wearing the cloak and armor leading an army of ponies, griffons, and zebras. The earth pony knelt before Celestia herself, offering up their crown.

The seventh and final panel showed the bay from the first panel now with a massive cityscape spreading far and wide with ponies, zebras, and griffons under a flag of a seven pointed star outlined by a glorious golden sun on a field of red.

“Ozzy, are you okay?” Umeme caught my attention, he gestured for me to follow him through the double doors.

“Uh, yeah,” I answered, turning away from the murals.

Suddenly one of the large windows exploded in a shower of colorful glass shards as the manticore jumped through landing hard, its tremendous weight snapping a long table in half like a dry twig.

“OZZY RUN!” Umeme shouted, pulling out a grenade and chucking the metal apple at the manticore.

BOOM!

The grenade exploded, kicking up dust, ash and debris. I dove through the double doors just before and the manticore leapt at us. Umeme dove out of the way and the large beast slammed into the doors, snapping them on their ancient hinges and locking them shut.

“UMEME!” I shouted.

“Go on, Ozzy!” his voice shouted from behind the doors, “We’ll meet up later!”

The manticore pounced again and the gunshots grew distant. I felt my heart drop in my chest, I was alone again.

*** *** ***

The body of a cricket crunched grossly under my hoof, I quickly scraped the guts off on an old suitcase. I was on one of the middle floors in the hotel’s east wing and from what I had seen so far this section was far more built up and reinforced by the Old Guard. The windows were boarded up, the narrow dark hallways were cleared enough of ashes for me to take off my gas mask and breathe easy, well easier at least and the choke points were barricaded with furniture and guarded by turrets. This choke point was a medium room with a staircase leading upstairs and the corpses of dead Old Guard and Ashbourne.

A couple red blips suddenly flashed on my E.F.S. and bullets ripped through my armor and dug into my leg, flank and shoulder, making me shout in pain. I rolled back into cover and shot back at a turret on the ceiling and one on the wall upstairs, my regular bullets only dented their domed armor. I switched over to my armor piercing bullets and the turrets exploded. I lowered Light and focused on wrapping my bleeding wounds in bandages for now, I’d need to find more healing potions soon.

I got up and pushed my way through the choke point making my way up the stairs to the upper level, a dead griffon soldier was slumped against the railing with another combat shotgun and a box magazine in her limp hands. I carefully removed the weapon and checked it over, its receiver was bent inward likely from a heavy bladed weapon.

I slung it over my shoulder with the other one for later and continued to investigate, sneaking down the hall I passed a number of bedrooms with rows of cots till I came to a pair of double doors guarded by some more turrets. I picked up a rock and chucked it in front of their sightlines, the turrets flipped out and shot at the flying object, vaporising it before it reached the floor. I slipped into S.A.T.S. and targeted them, time corrected itself and one exploded, alerting the remaining one, it swung around and started shooting at me, a bullet sliced my shoulder pauldron. I ducked back and checked, but thankfully didn’t find any blood this time. Reloading Light, I waited for the robot to stop before I slid out, aimed and fired.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

The turret sparked and died.

I reloaded Light, got up and stepped over to the door, Special Event Suite. Checking the knob I found it was locked and probably barred from the inside.

“You must be the Headquarters,” I muttered to myself, knocking on the worn wood, “Is anypony in there?”

No answer.

“Colonel Basken sent me to find Captain Fafnira, is anypony in there?”

Again, no answer. I reached into my saddle bag and pulled out a grenade from earlier. Placing it carefully on the floor, my magic hooked on the pin before I carefully backed up around the corner for safety.

“It can’t be this easy,” I muttered, covering my ears with my hooves, I yanked the pin free.

KA-BOOM!

The explosion rocked the walls, kicking up a cloud of ash and debris and it took a while for everything to settle. I got up and glanced around the corner, the walls were blackened and charred and the doors hung open on their old hinges.

“Well,” I muttered, “It was that easy.”

The room inside was partially illuminated by a couple of old pop vending machines with flickering screens advertising their ancient products to the hotel’s long dead visitors. Lining the walls were probably a hundred wood and metal crates full of food, drinking water and other such useful supplies. Enough for a small army. At the center was a long table with a map and some books. Plotting around carefully, I checked both vending machines for anything of value, but they were empty.

Checking the map I saw that it showed Rosedale and the surrounding Ashes and several places were marked in red ink, Pawnshop? Metro Station? Bank? Clothing Shop? Collapsed Tunnel? Office Building? and Energy Station? The office and tunnel were slashed out. My PipBuck pinged, my map had marked the approximate locations, except for the office building which was Orion Solutions. According to the map the closest location was the pawnshop, it was just a couple blocks away down the street.

I checked the crates for anything of use and found an environment suit repair kit, some healing potions in sealed thermoses marked by pink butterflies and red crosses for easy storage, a couple meals ready to eat and bottles of clean water and a dozen loaded magazines of red band 12 Gauge shells. Sitting down I cleared some space, placed my two shotguns on the table and got out my tool kit. The shotguns lifted an inch or so off the table and my magic slowly started to strip all of the parts. I examined each part individually, my repair assist helping me to select the better looking option for each. Once I had all of the needed parts, I started reassembling a shotgun, fitting the last piece in place and loading the box magazine with the red band 12 Gauge shells, twelve rounds. Loading the magazine and cocking the bolt back, I had a working combat shotgun.

I took out the repair kit, it had small gray patches of the same plastic-like material as my suit, a steel sewing needle and a small spool of black thread. Loading up my repair assist, I glanced down at my suit, unclasping the damaged armor plates, after applying my anesthetic spell I carefully removed the bullets, healed up the wounds and patched up my stable suit and environment suit, once I was done I strapped on fresh replacement armor plates.

I ate one of the MREs, a lukewarm oatmeal with strawberries, despite the lackluster quality of the meal, I felt a surge of energy and wholeness. As I was about to leave to go find Umeme, a loud rumbling outside the boarded up windows caught my attention. Quickly ducking under the table, a harsh white light shone through the gaps of the boards and bathed the room. A cricket scuttled in from the hallway, crossing the spotlight’s path.

SHLING!

Like a swift breeze, the cricket’s body was sliced diagonally and its legs twitched as it slumped open spilling blood and innards. My breath caught in my throat, my hooves clutching my shotgun as the spotlight slowly glanced around, after what felt like an agonizing eternity the spotlight left and the room fell silent. Carefully getting up, I scrambled through the doors to find Umeme so we could find the soldiers, get the hell out of dodge and get back on track to finding Mom.

*** *** ***

I swiftly kicked out my hoof and the vent flew off its rusty screws, crashing on the floor below. I carefully squirmed my way out and glanced around the room, it was rather large with dozens of countertops, refrigerators and stoves like the Kitchens back in Stable Fifty-Two. Most of the room was buried in ash that was drifting in through the small high up windows and the door leading out was blocked by an overturned refrigerator acting as a quick barricade.

I looked around for a way to climb down when I noticed a dark shape huddled beside a fridge in the corner.

BLAM!

Suddenly a gunshot rang out and a bullet struck the wall beside me. I lost my footing and tumbled hard into an ash pile.

“Wait! Wait!” I shouted, stumbling up and getting into cover when I noticed my attacker, “Umeme!?”

He looked up at me, “Ozzy?”

I carefully hurried over to him, there was a huge gash in his suit’s armor plate reaching down through his trousers, deep into his left hindleg spilling blood into the ashes on the floor, “What happened?”

“The man-COUGH-ticore,” He grinned and coughed in pain, “it left me a love swipe before my grenades could scare it off.”

“Let me check your leg,” he scooted a bit so I could start my work, my anesthetic spell working on his nerves, allowing him to relax.

“I promised Saluem that I’d keep an eye on you,” I muttered, carefully moving the torn flesh around and saw his leg bone poking through his blood deep inside.

I took out a healing potion and poured in the pink liquid, before focusing my healing spell on the wound and new flesh slowly started to rise like baking bread and stitch itself in with the existing flesh till what was left was a thin pale line in his coat. I took out an MRE for him to eat, he seemed better when he finished.

“Thank you,” Umeme muttered quietly, examining my work, “Did you find anything?”

“I know where the Old Guard might be,” he glanced up at me, I pulled up my PipBuck’s map and showed him, “I found a map in their headquarters detailing possible Ashbourne locations, that office building was one of them and there’s another one in a pawnshop just down the street.”

He nodded and asked if there was anything else, I showed him my new combat shotgun and the red band shells, he whistled appreciatively and explained that they were incendiary.

Learning this, my lips curled into a shifty grin.

*** *** ***

We were outside the Nifty Fifty’s Thrifty pawnshop and it looked like the Old Guard had been correct about it being an Ashbourne base, the windows of the three story tall brick and wood siding building were boarded up and reinforced with weathered rusty sheet steel.

The problem was that the alleyways and streets outside were full of feral dogs all sulking about looking for any food, a couple were ripping an Ashbourne corpse apart to get at the bloody meat within its shredded environment armor. Umeme had suggested we find a better way around and I pointed out a collapsed radio tower resting on the roof of a tall home that reached the pawnshop. So now we were trying to break into the home, but when Umeme started to pick the lock an ancient alarm set off, blaring into The Ashes alerting every dog in hearing range.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

My combat shotgun sprayed its fiery lead buckshot at a feral dog’s neck, burning away its patchy fur and barbecuing its flesh, the mongrel gave a gurgling growl before it collapsed in the ash piled up by the wall. I quickly wheeled around and blasted twice into another mongrel scrambling through the hole under the fence.

“Almost got it!” Umeme shouted back trying to concentrate, his bobby pins twisting expertly in the lock.

A dog jumped at me, I lined up the shot and pulled the trigger… only for nothing to happen. I quickly swung my shotgun’s buttstock into the mongrel’s neck using its momentum to slam it into an ash pile, slipping into S.A.T.S. I pulled out Light and fired a few rounds into its guts, killing it.

“Anytime now would be perfect-” I shouted, getting up and slamming in a fresh magazine and blasting at a couple more snarling dogs “-but you know, no rush!”

“Almost… almost… got it!” Umeme shouted victoriously, swinging open the door and jumping inside.

I jumped in after him, but just before we slammed the door closed, a mongrel’s head slammed snarling through the gap. I quickly jabbed my shotgun’s smoking muzzle into its eye socket making it pull back barking in pain. Umeme quickly slammed the door shut and the locks slid into place with a hiss.

“Well,” Umeme chuckled to me, “At least we’re safer.”

The house was in surprisingly good condition, especially considering The Ashes outside, all of the windows were boarded up with metal plates. We stood in a small kitchen with a doorway to a dining room with a small table with a couple chairs and a narrow hallway to another small room with a couple stuffed chairs by an old radio playing some scratchy static. Another small sphere robot hovered about cleaning up the scant amount of dust allowed to accumulate.

“Greetings, sirs,” the sphere chirped at us politely, “I’m sorry, but the Fiddles are quite busy right now, I’m going to have to ask you two to vacate the premises or I will be forced to call for law enforcement.”

“The Fiddles?” I asked, glancing at the number of old framed photographs of a family on the walls.

One photo caught my eye, the mare was in a white dress with a bouquet of flowers and the stallion was in a suit, both stood in front of a crowd dressed in formal wear in front of a massive crescent waterfall with lots of rainbows, Pottis and Pozzelle Fiddle’s Wedding at Neighagra Falls. What caught my eye was the familiar stallion standing between the couple. He had a short fiery gold mane, I thought back to where I’d seen him, but the sphere caught my attention.

“We’re from the office,” I told the cleaning sphere, “Dr Orion had an important message for Mrs Fiddle, to be delivered face to face.”

The sphere took several tense moments before it chirped, “Alright then, sirs, Mrs Fiddle is upstairs with her son, Pippy, good day, sirs.”

Umeme and I silently stepped up a creaky staircase to a bedroom on the second floor, my friend leaned close and whispered, “How did you know what to say?”

“The office building,” I answered, “The president was called Fiddle, I took a chance and it paid off.”

“Clever,” Umeme whinnied quietly.

The bedroom looked to be made up for a young colt, with old faded posters on the walls showed a pair of old superheroines, one a unicorn with a bob cut dazzling jet black mane wearing a stunning dark green dress with a triple barreled revolver, and a graceful fencing rapier in dazzling white magic. The other a pegasus wearing a long black trench coat with a silver scarf and a black fedora covering her face, and wielding an old fashioned looking light automatic rifle in her hooves. Both were lighting up the shadowy baddies surrounding the dynamic duo with a ghostly looking earth pony stallion wearing old fashioned fancy clothing behind them.

Stellar Pearl and Amethyst Delight as

The Silver Bullet and the Mysterious Mistress in

The Lair of the Ghostly Baron of Old Buhrvaria

Guest starring Kristoff von Waltz

The poster advertised that the movie was supposed to release across Equestria the month after the Last Day. I felt a little bad for the colt, excitedly waiting for his heroes to save the day. On a bookshelf in the corner by the small bed were some colorful letter blocks arranged to spell, Pippy.

I followed Umeme as we continued up to the attic, pushing open the door we found the small attic was covered in ashes and a headless Old Guard corpse leaning against a window sill with a zebra rifle in their armored hooves beside the collapsed radio tower that spawned the street, resting on a couple streetlights and an advertisement showing off stuff that the pawnshop sold (Fast Cash, Stereos, Colored TVs, Computers, Power tools, Kitchen supplies, and so much much more, all at reasonable prices!) to the flat roof of the pawnshop. The rusty metal and broken wires and cables dangled and swayed in the wind over thirty feet above the dog riddled streets. Umeme quickly inspected the zebra rifle and slung it over his shoulder with his broken one and handed me back my hunting rifle.

“I might be able to repair your rifle with that new one’s parts,” I offered.

“No need,” he explained, showing me the different rifles, “They have different enchantments worked into the metal. I’ve been told that you could seriously damage the weapon if you mix up parts that aren’t prepared beforehand.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” I said, zebra weapons were so different compared to ours.

“Right then,” Umeme said, placing a testing hoof on the makeshift bridge, the steel held… for now, “I’ll go first.”

Quickly remembering the collapsed bridge… and the fire escape I suggested that we find a safer way, but we didn’t see any, so Umeme started across. He slowly inched across, careful to not fall… and be ripped apart by the feral dogs. It was a long time before he was across, he got up on the roof and waved me across.

I carefully got down on the tower and slowly inched across, keeping my eye focused on Umeme… not looking down… not thinking about the feral dogs below me… waiting to rip my body- Dammit… I squeezed my eye shut before inching forward again. It felt like an eternity before my hooves bumped into something, looking up I had made it. I scrambled up, straightening my suit and Umeme chuckled to himself as he tried to unlock a door leading down. After a few moments, the door unlocked and we entered, closing out The Ashes behind us.

*** *** ***

Nifty Fifty’s Thrifty was in terrible shape, the ceiling lights flickered and sparked ghostly and ash drifted in through cracks. We held our guns at the ready as we climbed down the stairs to the ground floor, a cricket scuttled into another room. Umeme glanced inside and after he said it was clear.

The trapezoidal room had rows and rows of glass display cabinets that once showed off their ancient contents, the walls were decorated by posters and artworks and a couple vending machines sat in the corner by the wall displaying overpriced pop and cigarettes for sale, but now most of the cabinets had been looted long ago, the posters and artworks were disfigured with ancient graffiti, the vending machines were smashed into and looted, and the room was covered in the bloody corpses of dozens of Ashbourne and Old Guard.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, looking around the carnage.

“Look around,” Umeme said, checking everything.

I followed suit, but it was very scant finding. I pulled out a number of old newspapers all in broken frames. The picture on the front page showed a massive broken statue of a zebra stallion wearing lorica segmentata armor and holding an outstretched sword. Beside the statue was a tall flagpole with a large battle ragged flag: a white rampant zebra in a golden wreath in the canton on the hoist side and thirteen arrows went along the purple field, twelve black and one gold in the middle. The monument was in front of a massive burning city.

Equestria Daily

Struggle for the Crownlands

After the death of the dragon Brimstone over the skies of Hoofington and the subsequent routing of the zebra legions at the combined efforts of the Old Guard of Baltimare, the Royal Valkyrja of the Haagenheim Protectorate, and the Volunteer Corps of the Crystal Empire, the Caesar’s forces have been pushed back hundreds of miles to the border city of Mondawmin.

Taking the city with the aid of the Eternal dragon, Sahloknir, the combined forces have pushed the zebra legions even further back to the city of Rhodes just fifty miles west of the zebra capital of Roam, the deepest any Equestrian force has ever reached in the war’s long torrent history.

In desperation, the Caesar is reported to have called for…

The story dominated the page and pushed other stories to the side like Protests in Detrot heat up as mining production increases and Reconstruction of Foaledo begins amidst suspected corruption and Residents riot as Ministry of Peace evacuation efforts continue in New Horsesleans.

“Hey, Umeme,” I asked, showing him the newspaper, “Have you ever heard of Rhodes?”

He stared at the newspaper for a long time before he admitted with shaky breath, “Y-yes, my mother told me of her time in that place. Rhodes was our second greatest city, behind Roam itself. It’s said that almost a hundred million soldiers and civilian militants died in the defense of the city and the Crownlands for years. Then the bombs were dropped, the sky was sealed, and the War was over.”

“What happened to it?”

“There’s a great many stories and legends, some say that the armies fighting over the city died when the Caesar called upon Gurzil and his holy light purged the city of life. The spirits of those slaughtered soaked into the earth and the city is said to be haunted to this day, the Praetorian Order doesn’t even dare enter.”

“Do you believe that?”

“The city is highly irradiated, one of the few of our cities that are in fact, something had to have caused that, either a megaspell or Gurzil’s wrath.”

“Who’s Gurzil?” I asked.

“The two headed minotaur god of war and peace,” Umeme alberated, when I gave him a confused look, “You know, a balance of chaos and order. If there’s too much chaos the earth will fall into a quagmire like it is now, but if there’s too much order the earth will stagnate and life will die out.”

“Wait, you have gods?” I asked a little more confused, “Then what’re the spirits?”

“The spirits predate the official gods of Roam, you see back in Elysium there were thousands of nameless spirits in all things, but each tribe has a specific god that they usually honor above the others. My mother’s tribe honors Gurzil, for example.”

I felt slightly more confused at that.

*** *** ***

After another few minutes I was in an upper room full of old radios softly emitting garbled static when Umeme called me into a side room on the first floor that was full of empty gun racks and looted cabinets, Umeme was holding a long barreled rifle with a strange looking S curved stock.

“What is that?” I asked, taking the rifle and looking it over, it was very heavy, probably fifteen pounds, the hexagonal barrel maybe just under thirty inches long, the bolt handle was curved down out of the way and the rear sights were circle apertures.

“I’ve heard of these guns, it’s a Somnambuli Jezail, they were used by an ancient pony tribe called the Somnambuli and were long range sniper rifles,” Umeme explained, admiring the ancient firearm, “It’s said that when we invaded a massive desert in southeastern Equestria called Somnambula the natives took to the mountain border and would pick us off when we marched through the narrow canyon roads and then disappear before our artillery would shatter open the area. I’ve heard that the Caesar was so impressed by their resilience that he had offered their princess a place in the Empire, but apparently she declined.”

I opened the chamber and found that its face was filled in making it useless.

*** *** ***

It was probably another half hour before Umeme called me over to the checkout counter, he pointed out a button hidden in a safe he unlocked. Pressing the button, the cigarette vending machine suddenly slid to the side revealing a door, opening it revealed an old staircase with spots of blood leading down to a basement with a dozen makeshift beds and cots, an old stove in the corner, a door under the stairs, and a doorway leading to a smaller room that had caved in and was buried in ash. A few overhead pipes leaking more murky toxic water onto the cement floor and dozens of stolen Baltimare supply crates lining the cinder block wall by a staircase in a narrow tunnel leading under the street.

“Look around,” Umeme said.

I checked the crates for anything, but they were empty. Disappointed, I glanced around at the small basement, wondering what had happened here. I noticed a few spots of blood on the floor leading to the stairway closet door. I got Umeme’s attention and motioned to the door, he nodded and held up his new rifle. I knocked on the door-

BLAM!

Suddenly a gunshot rang out from behind the door as a bullet hole ripped through the wood and struck an old pipe in the ceiling. Umeme was about to return fire but I stopped him.

“Listen, we’re not your enemies, we’re just trying to find survivors to help.”

“You won’t take me alive, Ashskins!” the occupant shouted briskly.

“We’re not Ashbourne,” I stated as calmly as possible, “My name’s Ozzy, Colonel Basken sent us.”

There was a long silence before a metal clicking came from inside. The door slowly opened slightly and the muzzle of a 12.7mm pistol held up in a griffon’s talons poked out. The griffon was a bit on the smaller side at just about my and Umeme’s height and they were dressed in an Old Guard environmental suit with slightly dented plate armor. They lowered their pistol and pulled up their modified gas mask revealing a face with muted beige feathers, her black beak had small beads of red blood dripping down the corner, staining the muted white feathers of her neck. She stared up at me with a pair of tan bloodshot eyes.

“You’re really not with the Ashbourne?” she asked in a rough, dry and heavily accented voice.

“No, Colonel Basken sent us to find Captain Fafnira and her company.”

“Thank the Egg,” she breathed in relief, holstering her pistol and offering me her hand, “Melskaya Valentinaeva Lyubov-COUGH!- Private Fi-First Class, call me Mel. How many did you bring?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Soldiers, you did bring more soldiers from the Wall… right?”

We shook our heads.

“Blyat-” She started before coughing heavily, blood spilling into her armored fist.

With Umeme’s help, we got the griffon off of the floor and over to a clean enough cot to lie down, as we carefully pulled off her dented chestplate, I noticed that her breathing was very shallow and was difficult for her, maybe because of the several inches of rusty steel shrapnel sticking out just below her rib cage and likely sliced through her innards. I heard Umeme gag and vomit behind me, I knelt down and got to work.

“What happened?” I asked, my anesthetic magic carefully touching the flesh around the shrapnel to examine it.

“Sukas-” she coughed more blood into her fist again, “-got us while we were resting up after attacking Se-COUGH! COUGH!-Seneca Station, they came after us at the Hotel, we fought them back here then-COUGH! COUGH!-then-COUGH! COUGH! COUGH! COUGH!” she doubled over in a coughing fit, fresh blood spilling out.

“Be careful,” I ordered her.

I didn’t know how deep the shrapnel went, but there would definitely be serious internal bleeding if she kept moving around.

“Sorry,” she grimaced, laying back, “The fighting attracted some manticores, there was chaos, I think an explosion happened-COUGH!-I ended up down here.”

“Do you know where your company could be?” I asked, carefully removing a piece of shrapnel a couple inches long from under her wing shoulder.

“Probably at the bank,” Mel grimaced through her teeth, “T-that was the next target, the Captain m-might be there.”

Okay, that was something at least, “Can you take us there?”

“Can you fix me?”

“I don’t really know griffon anatomy, but I should be able to get you to more proper care.”

Mel reached out her hand to shake my hoof, “Then by my honor, Ozzy, I will get you there.”

*** *** ***

The makeshift tunnel had led us into Rosedale’s utilities system, dozens and dozens of tunnels honeycombing under most of the ruined suburb. Since I had the flashlight, I took point, my combat shotgun ready for anything. We followed my PipBuck’s map and Mel’s directions through the tunnels till we came across a locked metal door.

Umeme got to work and with two bobby pins, the door hissed as it slid open and we were almost overwhelmed by the horrendous gaseous air spewing out of burst sewer pipes. Even with the mucky air being filtered, I very nearly vomited into my gas mask from the little stench that slipped through. Two centuries of filth, rotting corpses, garbage and other unmentionable detritus had only made the stagnant air even worse than The Ashes above.

“C’mon,” Mel said, carefully picking her way across the horrific sludge, Umeme and I followed.

We followed our guide through the tunnel for a couple of turns before we came to a T-section, Mel directed us to take the left tunnel and after rounding a corner, we came upon a collapse blocking the tunnel. We backtracked to the T-section and headed straight. We passed a sealed door that was buckled inward and after rounding a corner, we came on another sealed door. Umeme got out his bobby pins and his knife and got to work, but after three pins, Mel told him to stop before she climbed through a small concealed hatch in the wall and disappeared for a few tense moments before the sealed door slowly slid open. We stepped into a far more open tunnel with a pair of rusty steel tracks running along on the floor and a blue tile stripe about halfway up with the label Tepid Station pointed what my PipBuck told me was eastward to a massive cave-in of ash, concrete, earth and twisted rusty steel and sparking overhead lights ran along the ceiling beside rusty pipes that occasionally leaked black sludgy water.

“Where are we?” I asked our guide.

“These old metro tunnels used to be connected to Baltimare,” she explained, taking off her gas mask so her voice bounced about the tunnel, “but they were cut off during the First Emergence War and they haven’t exactly been in the best condition since. This tunnel leads to Marigold Station, that’s close to the bank.”

We followed the tunnels to the south for a while before we were stopped by a large rusty train car on the rusty tracks blocking most of the tunnel, Mel reached up to open the door and climb inside before helping us. The train car was littered in ancient skeletons, ponies, zebras and griffons, all slumped in the ruined seats lining the walls or on the floor.

“Be careful,” Mel said, taking the lead, “Never know what you’ll find in these tunnels.”

We followed the griffon through the car into a second and then a third before we came to the fourth train car that had collapsed in the middle offering just enough room to shimmy through. Mel tossed her saddle bag through the opening and climbed through after it, Umeme and I followed as Mel continued talking, “Cave-ins, explosive gas, animals that burrow in from upside, these lands are dangerous, best be on a swivel.”

We continued through the tunnel before Mel stopped us, ahead of us the tunnel curved west into another cave-in.

“Well, shit,” Mel muttered quietly, she looked at my map and decided on a different path, “This way.”

She tried to open a utility door, but it wasn’t budging so Umeme took a crack at it getting out his bobby pins and knife, he struggled for a while before an all too familiar low rumbling made my blood run cold.

“What was that?” Mel asked.

I pointed my flashlight back down the tunnel, nothing happened for a few cold moments before from the stagnant damp gloom the manticore slowly emerged, hunched over to crawl through the cramped tunnel.

“Yajtza!” Mel shouted, it seemed like a swear.

Its face was covered in ashy blood dripping out from a wound in its left eye and its tail was missing its barb. Its good eye glared into my soul before its roar rocked the tunnel’s curved walls causing dust and rubble to fall.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Mel’s pistol roared back, hot fifty caliber lead slamming into the beast, only making it mad. It charged at us, I lifted my combat shotgun and fiery buckshot slammed into the now enraged beast. Mel and I ducked as it stumbled past us and slammed into some rubble, but its tail slammed into Mel, sweeping the griffon into the wall beside Umeme and she stumbled up weakly with the zebra’s help.

“Focus on the door!” I shouted at Umeme, slipping into the clarity of S.A.T.S. as the manticore got up and roared at me.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

My combat shotgun unloaded at the large pipes running along the curved ceiling, rancid blackened sewage spurted out, spraying the manticore. The beast roared in frustration, jumping around crushing debris, desperately trying to swipe the black gunk out of its face.

“OZZY!” Mel shouted as the door slid open.

I jumped out of the way and ran to the door, the manticore roared and pounced at me, a claw swiping at my covered tail just before the door slid shut. I collapsed on top of Umeme and he wrapped his arms around me. I looked up into his beautiful green eyes and I wrapped my arms around and hugged him tightly.

“Well, that was fun,” Mel chuckled, getting our attention, “Not to interrupt you two, but nightlight’s wasting, boys.”

We got up and made our way down the hallway to a door, Umeme unlocked it and we entered, the room was small and full of old pipes and some old machinery clunking away in solitude.

Mel led us through another door and hallway to a second room full of lockers and benches and a collapsed staircase leading topside. The lockers were all empty save for an old pornographic magazine featuring a kneeling female griffon drenched in the jizz of a dozen pony and zebra stallions circling her called Golden Nest. Sneaking the magazine into my saddle bag for later, we continued down a dry hallway with a couple turns and came upon a door that was jammed open about halfway off the grated floor by heavy steel beams welded into place with just enough room for a pony to crawl through.

Umeme pushed his rifle and saddle bags through before he slipped inside, when he said it was clear Mel and I followed. The room inside was large with dozens of old computer machinery lining the walls, a few of them were somehow still operating, lights blinking and tape reels spinning. Wires and cables lined the tile floor to the tall cylindrical chamber sectioned off by old reinforced windows in the center, glancing inside I saw that the chamber dropped down for dozens of feet before disappearing in cloudy darkness, looking up the chamber had a massive bladed fan a dozen feet across before it opened up to The Ashes dozens of feet up.

“What is this?” Umeme asked, looking through the window.

“Air filtration,” Mel explained, stepping over to a terminal in the wall beside a barred door, “You’ll find rooms like this in the metro systems across the North Shore, especially down in the Tsardom.”

“What are they for?” I asked.

“Filtering air, it’s kind of in the name,” the griffon explained, before the door clicked and swung open and she lead us through the tunnels, “Cities across the Tsardom converted their metro tunnels into massive stables that could hold tens of thousands during the Great War, I’m from Sokolov Bay and many of our stations are still used as towns and settlements and I’ve heard stories that some of Stalliongrad’s stations like Polis are even more impressive even after two hundred years.”

We came to a T-section, the right hallway was caved-in so we went left and entered another collapsed metro tunnel with a white tile stripe and the words Marigold Station headed west. We followed the tracks for a while before we heard gunshots, picking up our pace till we came across a number of sandbags and barricades leading up to a large metal wall blocking the station with a small door in the center.

Mel banged on the door, “Anyone in there?”

A slit in the door opened and a pony with a gun peered through, “Password.”

“Oswyk, it’s me, open the fucking door!” Mel shouted.

“Mel?” they asked and the slit closed before the door slowly opened.

As we stepped through, I felt a sharp sting and my body collapsed as the world went dark.

*** *** ***

“What’s the big idea!” I heard Umeme shout in the soupy distance.

“He could’ve been Ashborne!” another voice shouted back.

When I came too, I found myself in a makeshift hospital, dozens of injured soldiers lined the walls of a quartered off stretch of hallway while doctors in white bird masks moved around helping those they could as best they could. Umeme and Mel were shouting at a soldier holding a rifle outside the doorway. A doctor pony came over and sat beside me preparing a potion.

“What happened?” I asked, leaning up on my elbow.

“Careful,” he said, voice muffled by the mask, “You got hit by manticore venom and your body had an allergic reaction.”

“Manticore venom?” I asked, “Those fucking things use venom too?!”

“Yes, they use it to paralyze their prey to eat later, it can be extracted from the venom sack in their tail and we use it to capture raiders. But an allergic reaction isn’t unheard of and can easily prove deadly if not quickly counter-acted with antivenom or specialized healing potions.”

“Ozzy,” Umeme came up and wrapped his arms around me, “Thank the spirits you’re alright.”

“How long was I out?” I asked, Mel came up.

“Just a few minutes,” Mel answered.

When the doctor cleared me, we were taken to the commanding officer. The station’s condition was much like the base in the Rosedale Hotel and the pawnshop, cleared of ashes and rubble and heavily reinforced by the Old Guard and close to two hundred soldiers of all types preparing themselves for battle by cleaning their guns or checking over supply crates. Mel led us to some rooms in the back of the station, inside one was a zebra with light blue horizontal stripes wearing a suit of combat armor over his environmental suit, he was overlooking a map of Rosedale with small colored pieces of glass detailing troop placements.

“First Sergeant Henlyus,” Mel saluted the older taller zebra, who saluted back, “The Colonel sent these two mercs from the Wall.”

“Really?” The zebra glanced down at Umeme and I with a pair of tired light blue eyes, “What news from Colonel Basken? Where are the reinforcements?”

“None, sir, we-”

“Sir?” the zebra asked sternly, “Listen here, merc, I’m not a sir, I work for a living, got it?”

“Sorry, si-Sergeant,” I quickly corrected before continuing, “The Colonel sent us to find out what happened to Captain Fafnira and your company.”

“The Captain is topside leading the rest of the company to the south of the Ashbourne outpost we’re trying to take, if you’re really here by the Colonel’s request then help us in our mission and I’ll personally make sure that you’re both paid well.”

Umeme and I exchanged looks before we nodded.

Level Up: Trait Acquired: Judged: You have felt the fire of the Soul of Judgement… and were deemed Innocent at the cost of your eye and the left side of your face. You are now 15% less accurate at long to extreme range even with the help of your Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell.

Skill Note: Guns: 50%, Medicine: 40%

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven
“Did they really deserve to be rounded up and be put to work?”

The station had a working water talisman providing clean water so Umeme and I were able to shower, after the stifling heat of The Ashes and being drenched in sweat, dried blood and ash, the thought of nice cold water felt heavenly.

Umeme and I stepped into a small room with a row of lockers lining the half tiled walls and a long bench offering a place to sit and a single flickering light bulb hung from the ceiling, much like the showers back home. Umeme and I stripped off our suits and clothing in silence, I stole a glance over at Umeme and saw him peeling off his sweat drenched black undershirt showing the tight muscles of his sculpted back to me. I felt my cheeks blush and my heart beat picked up in my chest before averting my eye.

We deposited our gear and clothing in a couple of boxes for the company’s armorer to repair. We picked up a couple of dry towels and headed through a curtain door into another slightly larger room with a dozen old looking open showers lining the old and cracked white tiled walls and a circular drain in the center. To the side of the door were a few pegs in the wall.

Umeme hung up his towel and chose a shower, I quickly followed and chose one on the other side of the room with my back to the stallion. I took a moment to figure out how the shower worked, unlike Stable Fifty-Two, these showers didn’t have temperature knobs, instead it had a small handle on a chain dangling from the shower head. I reached up with my magic and pulled the handle down, somewhat cool clear water splashed over my body, making me shudder and shocking my brain to focus. I picked up a small bar of soap and started scrubbing down. It was a little hard at first to clean out the blood and ash clumps in my fur, but soon it got easier.

“Hey, Ozzy?” Umeme’s voice broke my concentration and made me stumble with the soap bar, “Can you help me?”

I slowly turned around and gulped very hard at the sight of the zebra stallion’s toned body, the way the water caressed his shoulder and back muscles as it trailed down to his-I shook my head and stepped over.

“Uhh… yeah, no problem,” I squeaked.

He handed me his soap bar and gestured to his back. I noticed that the stripes along his spine were slightly curling compared to the ones on his neck and legs. I swallowed and started carefully washing him.

“Right there, that’s the spot.”

Despite the cold water, I felt my cock threaten to heat up as I glanced down to his-I shook my head again and averted my eye to where I was washing.

“Could you use a little more pressure?”

But, try as I might, my eye still drifted down to where the eagle was still engraved in his chest, from what my medical knowledge could tell his flesh was still healing and would probably require more than just potions or spells could provide on their own.

“Could you go a little lower?”

My eye continued drifting down to his sturdy flanks and I noticed that his glyphs looked like crowns made out of tightly spiraling green lines. Seeing and touching his sturdy muscular body made my cock threaten to heat up again, I quickly gave the soap back to Umeme and returned to my shower, keeping my back to his.

Desperately focusing on anything else, I washed out the soap, blood, sweat, and ash from my mane, coat, and tail. Thankfully Umeme finished up and left. I let out a deep sigh of relief and quickly tried to clop myself off before finishing up and heading to bed.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

I found myself following a servant pony wearing a stiff red dress coat down a tall hallway bedazzled in impossible levels of refinement, the walls were covered in gold leaf and thousands of paintings either featuring ponies wearing fancy clothing or incredibly detailed landscapes between a number of large flags hanging vertically featuring a yellow chevron on the hoist side with a five pointed star split in half, the left side was red and the right side was white, the field was red with a thick blue stripe starting at the chevron’s point and going down the middle.

“Please keep up, Doctor,” the servant I was following briskly requested over his shoulder in a thick accent very similar to Mel’s.

The servant led me around a corner toward a set of large ornate double doors with a pair of soldiers wearing matching dark blue uniforms with white trousers with double red stripes and fur lined caps with flaps tied over the crown and matching red and white five pointed star pins on the front.

As we approached I noticed that both soldiers had assault rifles that somewhat resemble zebra rifles at the ready. The servant greeted the soldiers and said something that made them open the doors out onto a large veranda with a large oak tree with barren branches overlooking a massive bustling city of cold gray stone with a large dark river meandering through.

Sitting at a small table under the tree was a unicorn mare sipping from a cup of tea. The mare had a light honey yellow coat that was complemented by her long curly sapphire blue mane that tumbled down her back, she wore an incredibly elegant looking silver gown that accentuated her body and a long flowing cloak made of fine black animal furs to keep her warm in the cold air.

“Your Serene Highness,” the servant addressed the mare, “Doctor Orion of Baltimare.”

The mare put her cup down, gracefully stood and presented her manicured hoof to me. I stepped forward, bowed, took the hoof in mine and kissed it.

“Your most Serene Highness,” I greeted the mare sweetly, “The beauty of Stalliongrad has always and forever will pale in comparison to your own.”

“That’s quite enough, Rabbit,” the mare chided dismissively, flicking back her mane and revealing a series of cutie mark-like markings on her neck that looked like a pair of eagles each with a red rose in their beaks, “I get far too much of those honeyed crocodile words from Father’s court to desire it from my oldest and closest and truest of friends.”

“Just trying to keep your chamberlain happy,” I grinned, standing and kissing both of her cheeks, “It’s good to see you again, Ana.”

“Yes, it has been such a long time, has it not?” the mare gestured for me to sit across from her, “Tell me, Rabbit, how’s life?”

“You know I’ve never cared much for that little pet name of yours,” I felt my jaw clench slightly as I muttered, taking the tea she offered, the hot red liquid tasted of raspberries as it poured down my throat and warmed me against the cold.

“But it fits you so well,” she chuckled, “You could’ve competed in the Equestria Games… if only your mind wasn’t as encompassing as the Stalliongradskaya Biblioteka.”

“I’m holding steady, I suppose,” I drank more tea, “This war hasn’t been easy for anyone.”

“Yes, Father ordered the southern border to be closed down against the refugees, but they are still getting in.”

“How is the Tsar?” I asked, “Has his illness improved?”

“Sadly no,” Ana quietly admitted, “The doctors have all said it will spread to his heart sooner than later, all they can do now is ease his pain.”

There was a pregnant pause before I asked, “And what of your husband?”

“Over in Foaledo with the Canterlot dignitaries,” she sighed, glancing out over the city, “No doubt fathering more ublyudki.”

“I’ll never understand why you remain married to him,” I muttered, pouring more tea, “All of our friends would beat my teeth in if I ever had an affair.”

“I sometimes envy your simple life, Rabbit,” Ana sighed.

“Why not take a paramour?” I asked, “I’m sure Nikolas would greatly benefit from a far more loving father figure.”

Ana didn’t answer, instead pouring herself more tea and looking out over the city for a long time before she changed the subject, “I heard about Archimedes, I can not imagine what I would do if anything were to happen to my dear Nikolas.”

“Yes…” I admitted, putting my tea down, “Artemis has locked herself in our room for weeks now, she refuses to come out and talk.”

“Rabbi-Orion,” Ana said softly, gently placing her hoof on mine and flashing her long eyelashes, “If there is anything that I can do to help, you only have to ask.”

“Thank you, Anastasia.”

There was another long silence before the princess put her tea down, “I have to ask, with how busy you have been recently, I can not imagine you came just for a social call.”

I reached into my coat and pulled out an envelope, “I wanted to purchase KBR.”

“Novasibrisk’s arsenal?” Ana asked, taking the envelope and opening it to reveal a folded piece of paper, “Why not the Valandovo arsenal? It is far newer and larger.”

“Baltimare needs weapons for the war and those weapons need bullets and I remember how much KBR meant to your grandfather,” I explained, drinking my tea, “Besides, didn’t Ironshod recently try to make a move on it?”

“Well, yes… but Father would never se-” she unfolded the paper and her eyes went comically wide and her words caught in her throat, she looked up at me.

“It’s all there,” I reassured her, drinking some more tea, “You know I’m good for it.”

“But-but-but this is-” she tried to say, eyes glued to the paper, “Orion, not even your Ministries could possibly offer us this much.”

“And wouldn’t you want a trusted friend to care for your grandfather’s legacy instead of a faceless corporation owned by a family of apple farmers?” I leaned back, tapping my forehooves together, “The choice is yours, Anastasia.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

As the Old Guard sat down in the station’s main room for a lunch of grilled cricket with carrots and green beans, Mel introduced Umeme and I to her squad.

Corporal Schneefall Ruhe was the squad’s leader, with a shortcut lavender mane and trimmed beard, a creamy beige coat, green eyes, and had a cutie mark of a silver campfire on his uniform’s trousers. Judging by his exceptionally thick accent when he spoke Ponish, he wasn’t from Baltimare. According to the earth pony, he was from a small tribe called the Hydebarkks within the Baltimare territory of Splintered Rock in a wasteland far to the northeast across the Frigid Sea called Buhrvaria. I asked him what it was like there and he explained that most of his homeland was covered in an endless winter with radioactive blizzards strong enough to bury whole cities in a single night and horrific monsters twisted by the balefire from the Final Judgement, what many Buhrvarians called the Last Day.

Specialist Blue Velour was the squad’s medic, with a blue gray mane tied back in a ponytail, a light gray coat and had a cutie mark of a trio of black water drops on the side of her uniform’s trousers. She said she was from a small Rigger town in Fell’s Point called Floatingham. To me the most interesting part about the mare was her cybernetics, her left eye was almost impossible to distinguish from a real one save for the slight glow in her pupil and both of her front legs were almost real save for the incredibly thin lines between the segments and the ten mechanical fingers that could extend from the bottom her hooves to form fists like a griffon. I asked her where she got them and she said that her hometown was attacked by a Swampfolk family called the Froggs when she was a filly and she was tortured when she was captured. When the Old Guard purged the Froggs, she was sent up to Meadowbrook for medical care, eventually being sent to the College in Bayview and given her cybernetics almost fifteen years ago.

Specialist Tony G Dragher was the squad’s explosive expert, using a single shot grenade launcher. The male griffon had a stone gray coat, muted greenish gray neck feathers, yellow face and a black beak said he was from a griffon town in Klawstone called Eggemare, which surrounded one of the dozen massive artillery cannons from the Great War scattered around the Horseshoe Bay that could rip a massive 914mm shell through any Enclave cloudship. His town’s cannon apparently did so during the Second Emergence War when they brought down several Raptor-class ships and two Thunderhead-class ships, Armageddon’s Herald and The Resolute.

Private Urshan Softshell was an earth pony with a cherry red coat and a shiny dark brown mane that was pulled into a long fishtail braid decorated with shark teeth and small shells and had a small fish hook in her left earlobe and had a cutie mark of three green shells on her uniform’s trousers. She said she was one of the squad’s rifleponies, using a heavy assault rifle with a long serrated machete mounted as a cruel bayonet. I asked her why she had a pet crow and she explained that she was Blacktyde like Colonel Basken. I asked what that meant and she elaborated that her tribe was part of a group of tribes called the Beastlords. Apparently she could connect her soul to animals to influence their minds and see through their eyes. Umeme asked for a demonstration, the mare put her food down and her eyes rolled back in her head and the crow’s black eyes were replaced with her teal ones. I thought it was very creepy.

Private Spitflare was the squad’s newest member and was the markspony, using a scoped semi-auto bullpup rifle that used heavy assault rifle magazines. He had a curly green-gray mane, a white coat and a cutie mark of a sputtering green flare on his uniform’s trousers. He explained that he was from a small Islander town in the Seastar Isles called Eel Town. He joined the Old Guard stationed at Fort Seastar last summer and after his cutie mark was branded away and his wings were ripped out by the Enclave, a fate suffered by most of Baltimare’s pegasi during the Second Emergence War, he found himself stationed at the Wall after he recovered at Meadowbrook.

*** *** ***

When lunch was finished, I found myself tightening down a spring in a light howitzer mounted on a power armor’s integrated battle saddle with the company’s heavy trooper platoon leader, Gunnery Sergeant Shilling Bucket, instructing me on the proper ways to repair her armor and weapons. While I did have an extensive knowledge of weapons made by Ironshod Firearms, I was very thankful for the instruction.

We were in a back room in the station that once served as a repair bay to fix the subway train engines when they still worked, now the Old Guard used it to do field repairs on their equipment. There were about twenty mechanics and twenty engineers all working on weapons and armor for the upcoming battle.

“Be careful how you tighten that spring, the recoil could snap it in half under the right stress.”

The Gunnery Sergeant was a very muscular earth pony mare with a short cut mane the color of bullet brass, a gunpowder gray coat and a single light brown eye (the other was replaced by a cybernetic with a pale yellow iris). She wore a strange form-fitting bodysuit made of dark blue leather with connection ports to hook into the power armor systems and padded white sections on the legs, sides and the chest that she explained added comfort and limited chafing when in power armor for long stretches of time, all of the forty-four heavy troopers wore similar outfits. As we worked she said she was from a small fishing town called Newlyne, which was founded by the residents of Stable Fifty, in Gizzardpool, a ruined port city on the northwest coast of a large island far to the east across the Celestial Sea called the Griffish Isles.

“Where did you get your armor?” I asked, looking over the magnificent piece of arcano-technology.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, I nodded very appreciatively, “The Steel Rangers are famed across much of Equestria for using Mark Ones in battle, we claimed hundreds of suits as reparations for the First Emergence War and they gave us an incredible edge when we purged the Pirate Kings.”

“What?” I asked, putting the socket wrench down and picking up the flathead, “When you-”

“Not from around here are yah?” she asked before explaining, “See, the Seven Sisters are a chain of several volcanic islands between the Horseshoe Bay, Seaward Shoals and the Griffish Isles that were mined for resources by criminals and zebra pows during the Great War. After the Great Deluge, what we Islanders call the Last Day, the soldiers and thousands of prisoners were cut off from the rest of the North Shore. The Seven Sisters were in chaos before the strongest among them took control and after managing to restore some of the ships abandoned there, they sailed around the North Shore raiding the smaller settlements along the coasts and on the smaller islands, becoming the Pirate Kings of the Seven Sisters. About ninety years ago they mustered their strength before attacking Baltimare and the Old Guard were sent to clear out the islands.”

“What happened then?” I asked, putting my wrench down.

“Do you know about the Workers?” she asked, I nodded my head slightly, remembering the ponies, zebras and griffons wearing those coveralls, PipBucks and collars with flashing lights back in Meadowbrook, “We don’t have long term prisons in Baltimare, instead all crime is punished in service to the city. Say if you do something minor like steal some food to feed your family, but you then cooperate with the Iudices during your arrest, you’ll have to work off your crime by doing some minor work like cleaning gutters or trash cans for the day, but then you’re free to go. If you do something more serious like murder or rape though, you get sent down to the plantations in the Black Isles or over to the shipyards in Gizzardpool to work for years or even your whole life. But if you’re a raider or a slaver, you get sent straight to Meadowbrook for correction before being sent to the Seven Sisters to mine resources… if you’re lucky.”

I felt a cold shiver rush up my spine, “But isn’t that just slavery?”

“You’re not getting it,” The Gunnery Sergeant shook her head, “These are raiders and slavers we’re talking about, people who choose to murder and steal from and enslave those weaker than them, anywhere else in the Wastes they’d be the uncontested rulers piliaging, raping and murdering anyone they wanted, why shouldn’t they be rounded up and be put to work like the filthy mongrels they are?”

Even if it made sense and was somewhat justifiable, I was still uncomfortably reminded of Recycling back home and stayed quiet as she continued instructing me before I moved on to her platoon’s other weapons. By the time I was done my PipBuck told me it was late in the afternoon and the Old Guard were preparing for dinner. I plotted by the station’s shooting range, a small room with three walled stalls to shoot from and its back wall was knocked down so it extended into the metro tunnel with various targets hung up at different distances. Umeme sat on a bench at a stall with his new rifle.

“Hey, dinner’s ready,” I said.

“Ozzy, come here,” he said, waving me over, “I want to show you something first.”

Ignoring the rumbling protests in my belly, I plotted over to his stall, Umeme picked up a can of rotten carrot chunks and trotted around the stalls into the range, placing it on a stool in front of the knocked out wall. He placed an armor plate in front of the can and returned to his stall.

“What did you want to show me?” I asked, confused.

He just grinned as he lifted up his rifle and lined up its sights with the plate and fired, but to my confusion nothing happened. I stepped up to the plate and looked it over, to my surprise the plate was fine, but the can was blown open and rotten carrot chunks had spilled down into the tunnel.

“How the hell?” I asked.

“It’s the enchantment,” Umeme explained, “the bullets will pass through inorganic material, like metal or concrete, but will hit organic material, like flesh or wood.”

“That’s incredible.”

He set up another can and took a few pot shots at it. I glanced at him as he expertly used his new rifle, I felt my cheeks and the thoughts about the shower surfaced again.

“Hey Ozzy, are you listening?” Umeme asked.

“What?” was my brilliant response.

“I said, ‘Do you wanna have a go?’” he held out his rifle.

“Um, okay sure,” I said, taking the rifle.

*** *** ***

The Old Guard were sitting down in the station’s main room, filling the space with a low rumble of idle chatter and the smells of stew. Umeme and I sat with Mel’s squad, eating as they joked around.

“Hey Corporal Ruhe,” a soldier shouted from across the large room, “Sing us a traditional Buhrvarian song, will ya?”

The Corporal put down his spoon and climbed to the stairs’ first landing for all the company to see. He reached into his uniform’s utility belt and pulled out a small rectangular device that had a lot of small buttons on it. He pressed a button and a weird song that was heavy on the drums, guitar, and strings started filling the room.

“Es wird Morgen und du weißt
Zwei Seelen sind in deinem Leib
Und am Tag kannst du nicht leugnen
Was dich in die Nächste treibt

Deine Taten werden bleiben
Es gibt keinen Weg zurück
Du stehst im Auge des Orkans
Und die Stille bricht!”

Suddenly ten more soldiers stood up and joined the Corporal in chorus,

“Hörst du die Trommeln
In deinen Träumen nicht?
Hörst du die Trommeln
Wenn du alleine bist?
Wer einmal im Mondlicht tanzte
Folgt den Trommeln
Wenn die Nacht anbricht

Darum bleib’ nicht einfach steh’n
Damit die Schatten keiner sieht
Es gilt zu gehen
Damit die Erde sich bewegt

Deine Taten werden bleiben
Egal, wie weit du ziehst
Und die Trommeln wirst du hören
Wenn du in die Nächte gehst!”

The whole company had joined in the song, jumping up and dancing,

“Hörst du die Trommeln
In deinen Träumen nicht?
Hörst du die Trommeln
Wenn du alleine bist?
Wer einmal im Mondlicht tanzte
Folgt den Trommeln
Wenn die Nacht anbricht!”

As the song continued I felt a sense of comradery, a sense that all of these soldiers were a family despite their variety of backstories from all across Baltimare. I felt my heart swell as old childhood memories of my Grandparents surfaced, a single tear welled up in my eye and rolled down my cheek.

They were almost certainly dead and it was my damn fault! I hadn’t really even given them a second thought this whole fucking time!

I had to find Mom.

“Hörst du die Trommeln
In deinen Träumen nicht?
Hörst du die Trommeln
Wenn du alleine bist?
Wer einmal im Mondlicht tanzte
Folgt den Trommeln
Wenn die Nacht anbricht!”

When dinner and the song was finished, the company gathered around for the mission briefing, First Sergeant Henlyus explained that they would serve as a distraction. First the artillery would strike the trenches on the hill in front of the bank to soften them up for the soldiers’ charge with griffons and pegasi offering air support. Once the hill was taken, the assault on the bank’s front would begin while Captain Fafnira’s group snuck in through the bank’s rear to capture the Ashbourne’s leader, an earth pony mare by the name of Cherry Drop, till she sent a signal, then they would take the bank. The First Sergeant told his soldiers to expect moderate casualties and the briefing was concluded.

*** *** ***

I pulled on my repaired gear and fitted my saddle bag into place before deciding on which weapon I should choose, my hunting rifle could offer some amount of safety in longer ranges, but my combat shotgun had proven very resilient in The Ashes.

I decided on leaving my hunting rifle behind, pulling out the spare magazines of 7.62mm and putting them all in a bag for safety. I pulled my shotgun shells and readed my combat shotgun, Mel came up with her saddle bag and offered me a pack of cigarettes featuring a sprinting clock labeled as Nico-Time, I declined saying that I didn’t smoke.

She nodded, pulling out an old cigarette from the pack and placing it in her beak, she pulled out a small bullet. As I watched in slight confusion, the griffon flicked open the bullet and a small flame spouted out. Mel lit her cigarette and a soft trail of foul smelling smoke rose to the ceiling as she put her lighter away and started pulling on her gear.

“Do people from Sokolov smoke a lot?” I asked in slight disgust.

“Not everyone,” she muttered, adjusting the straps on her leg armor, “But don’t deny me my few pleasures.”

“Hey, Mel?” I asked, holstering Light, “What’s Sokolov like?”

“Could be better,” she shrugged, “It sure as hell used to be a shitload worse, what with the Stal’nyye Reyndzhery and the Ostatok once seeking to continue the ‘Great Patriotic War’-” she quietly muttered something under her breath “-and with hordes of mutated monsters staking the tunnels and surface… every waking moment… it’s home, I guess.”

“What’s the city like?” I asked, sitting down on my cot.

“Well…” she took a moment to think before talking, “Sokolov was the Tsardom’s second biggest city and we were hit by a very strong balefire bomb during the Last Day of the Great Patriotic War. Strong enough that the Stalkers who rifle through the ruins for valuable supplies and if they somehow survive the hordes of Nosalises, Krevetki, Okhotniki, Vichukha or Utonuli, they’ll likely only live for a couple of years at most before they die of radiation sickness or mutate into Dikari, so-”

“What’s a Dikari?” I interrupted, earning a slight glare from the griffon.

“They’re similar in concept to ghouls, but their bodies can regenerate their wounds almost instantly making even a couple very dangerous to even the Stal’nyye Reyndzhery. Thankfully they’re mostly drawn to roam the surface ruins leaving the stations mostly alone, unlike the Utonuli.”

“What’re Utonuli?”

“Pony-sized mutants with scaly and rubbery skin, long fishtails when underwater, but they grow legs for walking when on land, several rows of small shark-like teeth and glowing eyes that can slice through dark waters. They usually attack smaller fishing settlements and drag off people to-”

“You mean like Seaponies?” I asked somewhat jokingly, rolling my eye.

“Seaponies?” Mel asked, confused, “No, I’m talking about real living breathing animals here, not some fucking child fairy tales.”

“Sorry,” I offered, “What happened?”

“Well, when I was about seven, my family lived in Sviblovo Station, it was on one of the islands in Sokolov Bay and we fished the frozen black waters for mutated fish like cod and salmon and Krevetki, what we call crawdads, to sell to the other stations in the Krasniy Trade Alliance. Everything was as good as it could be, but then hordes of Utonuli thousands strong rose from the bay to swa-”

“Alright, form up!” First Sergeant Henlyus suddenly shouted.

*** *** ***

Umeme and I were sitting in a long trench with the rest of the soldiers and Mel’s squad behind sandbags and metal and concrete barricades on the other side of a street in front of Marigold station, the heavy troopers adorned in their power armor with their heavy weaponry were positioned above the station with clear lines of sight. In front of us were a few dozen acres of open land that probably used to be a park with a tall stone column standing on a large hill in the center, but now it was built up by the Ashbourne with trenches and barricades made from old wagons and other junk.

“It’s gonna be okay,” I mumbled to myself to calm my nerves as the grip on my combat shotgun tightened.

Many of the Old Guard around me were praying, my E.F.S. had marked every last one of them, giving me their names and the ones with PipBucks also gave me their vitals and exact locations.

Private Softshell was surveying the large hill through her crow, her body shifting slightly as she occasionally muttered a silent word here or there. Soon her crow swooped down and perched on her shoulder.

“Machine guns… mortars…” the mare muttered, her eyes returned and she glanced up to Corporal Ruhe, “They’re afraid.”

“Good,” Specialist Dragher chuckled, loading his launcher.

Mel came up to my side offering a magazine of shotgun shells with orange bands, “Hey, Ozzy,” Mel placed her hand on my shoulder, “Are you okay?”

“Just nervous,” I answered, “You?”

“I was very nervous in my first battle,” the griffon nodded, squatting down beside me.

“Where in Sokolov are you from?” I asked, after triple checking that my combat shotgun and Light were still loaded, the answer was yes.

“Well…” she started, squatting down, “After Sviblovo was swallowed, my family made our way to Orehovo Station, it’s the nearest station to the harbor and a lot of surviving Sviblovans made their way there. Most stations are either independent or a colony of a stronger station. The Stal’nyye Reyndzhery were headed out of Ploschad Marksa Station and once controlled the Sportivnaya and Rechnoyvokzai Stations while the Ostatok were in Volochaevskaya Prospekt Station and tried to control Berezovaya and Vodny Stadion Stations before their populations revolted a couple of days after the Old Guard came.”

She moved aside as a soldier carrying bullet belts stepped passed, the griffon sat down beside me and continued, “But the Old Guard purged the Ostatok and sent the few survivors to the Seven Sisters for their genocidal beliefs and then they pushed the Stal’nyye Reyndzhery out of the city to Stalliongrad to the west and Valandovo to the south.”

I didn’t really understand most of the names she was saying, but I think I understood… mostly, “Why did you join the Old Guard?”

“I joined the Old Guard at Ryazansky Prospekt Station a couple of years ago, my mother was a bit of a-uh… um what’s the Ponish word for it-” she made a quick gesture that resembled sucking a cock, I nodded “-I just… I had to get out of there.”

“Does Baltimare control the whole system then?”

“Actually no, strange as it seems they mostly govern through existing Station leaders, so long as they pay taxes to Hightown, follow Baltimare’s constitution and accept the Old Guard’s protection. But out of the fifteen inhabited stations, they only directly hold Petrovskaya Ploschad’ and Ryazansky Prospekt.”

“So they’re welcomed there?”

“Well, a very small, but obnoxiously loud station called Zaeltsovskaya is still fiercely against Baltimare having moved in about forty some years ago. Riots aren’t as common now, but they do still happen…” the griffon sighed, clearly tired about the subject, “and the Old Guard must keep the peace.”

“What happened?”

“A couple of weeks after I joined, rioters from Zaeltsovskaya had driven a massive horde of Nosalises and Okhotniki to attack Petrovskaya Ploschad’ and Ryazansky Prospekt Stations where food and water were being distributed, hundreds people on both sides were killed in just a few hours and a few hundred surviving rioters were rounded up and taken to the Seven Sisters… my little brother was one of them.”

“I’m sorry,” I offered, “What’s his name?”

“Pavlo Valentinovich,” the griffon sighed and muttered something under her breath, “He’ll be in the Seven Sisters for another fifty years if he is-”

BOOM!

Suddenly mortars launched from the hilltop trench and arched through the dark sky toward the Old Guard’s trenches. Dozens of magical shields sprang up just before the mortars landed and fire, dirt, ash and concrete flew up around us, held back by the magical energy.

“GET READY!” First Sergeant Henlyus shouted.

The Old Guard quickly got up to the firing line and readied their guns, I followed and aimed my combat shotgun. My E.F.S. slicing through the haze marking dozens and dozens of Ashbourne charging down the hill, weapons ready and howling for blood! My heart thundered in my ears as the raiders drew closer, one hundred feet… fifty… twenty… ten… nine… eight…

“NOW!” the First Sergeant’s voice called out.

The shields dissolved and the Old Guard lit the raiders up. Bullets flew everywhere, slicing through the raiders’ piecemeal armor like it was hot butter. My combat shotgun’s buttstock repeatedly slammed into my shoulder as the fiery buckshot struck my targets again and again. Just as soon as it started most of the raiders were slaughtered, dropping like flies on shit, the ones who survived tried to retreat.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The Old Guard’s heavy troopers took aim and fired several artillery shells that arched through the dark sky and lit up the hilltop.

“CHARGE!” the First Sergeant ordered.

The Old Guard sprang out of the trenches and charged the remaining raiders, Mel wished me luck as she and Dragher took to the sky with the other griffons and pegasi. I reloaded my combat shotgun and followed the charge. Suddenly, I was flung several feet through the air and landed hard face down in bloody mud.

Everything screamed in pain as I laid there, tilting my head to the side, I wiped mud out of my face and felt around for my gas mask. The world was silent despite the thunder shaking the ground, a harsh ringing slowly crept into my ears as sound slowly started to return.

When I found it, I quickly secured it to my face and opened my eye. Through the cracked and splintered plexiglass I saw the unbridled chaos of the battle, dozens of corpses were lying scattered around me, soldiers and raiders struggling in the bloody ashes, others still continued the charge up the hill. Glancing back to the station I saw that most of the entrance had collapsed with smoke trailing into the dark sky as the heavy troopers got down from their posts and started scaling the hill. I felt something wet trickling down the side of my head. I raised up a hoof to touch it and it came back very red.

I noticed my combat shotgun lying in the ash beside me, picking it up I cleared the mud and ash from the barrel. I slung it over my shoulder and glanced around the chaos, spotting a soldier lying face down in the dirt and ash a few feet in front of me. I tried to get up to see if they were okay, but my hindlegs struggled to move. With some difficulty I managed to get my hooves under me and I stumbled over the distance.

When I did reach them I shook their shoulders, but they didn’t move. I carefully shifted them onto their back and saw that the soldier was Private Softshell, but there was a huge gaping hole in the side of her gas mask and face with bits of her brain and skull and blood caking the mud and ash.

“No,” I felt my mouth say.

“Is this what you’ve become?” a ghostly femine sounding voice asked just barely through the ringing.

Visions of Q’osk flashed in my mind, my legs went weak and I fell back on my haunches. The world slowed to a near crawl as the soldiers and raiders slaughtered each other, I glanced around trying to find the source.

“Sniveling in the dirt over somebody you didn’t even know?” the ghostly voice asked again, somehow closer, “What kind of pitiful stallion are you?”

“Who are you?” I felt myself ask.

Suddenly, a pony stopped in front of me and a shield of light icy green magic formed around us just before a mortar shell landed, bright flames rushed across the bubble before dying out and the shield dissolved.

My savior glanced down at me and despite the fogginess, I saw it was Specialist Blue Velour. She shouted something at me, but I couldn’t tell what it was. The medic pony helped me up to my hooves and gestured up the hill before she ran off to help other soldiers. I glanced down and noticed Light partially buried in the ash. My magic reached down and picked up the pistol, again to my confusion it looked perfectly fine. I holstered it and made my way to the rest of the company.

*** *** ***

The hilltop was in ruin, the trenches were blown open, Ashbourne corpses scattered around and the column had broken in half, the top portion had rolled down the hill crushing everything in its path before crashing into the columns holding up the triangular roof of the bank’s main entrance so now the doors were blocked and most of the letters of the large sign above it were crumpled on the ground so it now read Ba_tim_r_ B_nk _nd Lo_n_. The bank itself was a couple story tall rectangular building that was mostly sitting in ruin, the east side was almost completely collapsed and buried in ashes and concrete.

I knelt down and leaned against the wall lined with scrap sheet steel as Blue Velour grabbed my head, pulled off my hood around my gas mask’s straps so my ears were out. She reached into her doctor’s bag on her hip and pulled out a small vial of red liquid. Pulling the cork, she poured its contents into one of my ears, as the somehow cold liquid dribbled down and hit my eardrum, the ringing in that ear slowly vanished and the muffled sounds of the battle slowly became clearer.

“I said to focus!” the medic pony shouted over the gunfire, pointing down the hill at the scattered corpses, “We’ll bury them all when we’re done!”

“But she’s-”

“They’ll all be buried later!” she forcibly repeated, pulling out another vial and pouring it into my other ear, “It’s the least we could do for their sacrifice!”

First Sergeant Henlyus was shouting orders at the soldiers running around setting up to take the bank. Umeme ran up and asked if I was okay, I nodded as I glanced down the hill to the bank. Dozens of muzzle flashes were desperately shooting at the griffons and pegasi from barricades and windows as the few surviving raiders retreated into the building. The Old Guard set themselves up in gun emplacements to offer covering fire as the First Sergeant directed them.

“Artillery, pick your targets and FIRE AT WILL!” The First Sergeant ordered, the heavy troopers aimed their howitzers.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The shells arched low through the dark sky before striking the hill base and the street, in seconds most of the retreating raiders were slaughtered, their armor rendered useless as their bodies were viciously torn and ripped apart, painting the dirt and ash in blood, innards and fire.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Several mortar shells shot up from the bank and arched through the dark sky toward us, dozens of magical shields flew up around the ruined trench just before the Ashbourne shells struck, kicking up earth, ash and concrete, the shields rippling as they held.

Suddenly, a blue flare shot up from the bank and exploded in the dark sky lighting up the park.

“CHARGE!” First Sergeant Henlyus ordered, the shields dissolved and the Old Guard charged down the hill.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The heavy troopers fired a volley that arched through the air and struck the bank’s entrance, blowing away the columns and clearing the path. The remaining Ashbourne lit up the hill with machine guns and mortar fire, blowing away earth and ash before the airsupport distracted the gunfire and the heavy troopers’ bombardment of smoke silenced them and the Old Guard could pour into the bank’s entrance. I stumbled slightly as I followed Umeme and the charge, ducking between scant cover wherever we could find it till we reached the bank’s entrance.

The lobby must’ve once been a sight to see, pieces of artwork and posters advertising low prices for loans and mortgages were framed on the high marble walls, finely crafted wooden furniture offered places to sit and wait as customers conducted their business, gold trimmings and decorative chandeliers made of multicolored gemstones hung from the vaulted ceiling.

Of course most of that prestige was ruined by decay, battle and the graffiti left by the building’s inhabitants in the intervening two hundred years.

The Old Guard charged through the open doors, but were quickly killed or pinned behind directed magical shields that were quickly erected to deflect the Ashbourne’s machine guns firing from barricaded positions on the second floor balcony, preventing the soldiers from gaining any more ground.

“Grenadiers!” First Sergeant Henylus shouted.

A few soldiers came up behind the shields, aimed their grenade launchers and shot a volley of grenades that arched through the air, landing behind the barricades.

BOOM! BOOM!

The lobby shook, splintered wood, cracked marble and bloody flesh and innards flew up painting the balcony.

“CHARGE!” the First Sergeant shouted.

The soldiers rushed past me up the stairs, splitting into small groups as they chose different hallways. The hard staccato of gunfire thundered through the ancient ruins as the raiders struggled to prevent what to me was clearly inevitable.

“Hey, Ozzy?” Umeme grabbed my shoulder, catching my eye, “Is everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah,” I felt myself say.

We followed Mel’s surviving squadmates, Corporal Ruhe, Specialist Blue Velour and Private Spitflare as they chose a first floor hallway. I lifted my combat shotgun as we made our way through the building with other squads, passing dozens of crumbling rooms with a scattering of ancient crumbling skeletons and now the bleeding corpses of Ashbourne who tried to fight back and ones being tied up by the Old Guard.

We entered a large room buried in ash that had spilled in through the broken skylight in the ceiling or the collapsed hallway that once led into the now collapsed east wing. I was glancing up at the ruined artworks on the peeling walls when suddenly my E.F.S. flashed red markers. A door flew open and a couple of Ashbourne jumped out with duffle bags over their shoulders and brandishing weapons.

“Stand down!” Corporal Ruhe shouted, every weapon raised at the raiders.

“DEATH TO BALTIMARE!” one of the Ashbourne shouted, lifting his rusty shotgun.

The world slowed as I slipped into S.A.T.S. targeting their weapons, time corrected and my combat shotgun roared as their weapons exploded in clouds of metal and wood.

“Stand down!” Corporal Ruhe shouted again, another squad of soldiers coming down the raider’s hallway, “NOW!”

One of them threw the remains of her gun aside and lifted her armored hooves above her head, but the other didn’t.

“YOUSE AIN’T TAKING ME!” he shouted, reaching into a duffle bag and pulling out a small crystal orb.

“NIEN!” Corporal Ruhe shouted, “HALT!”

A gun fired, the side of the stallion’s head exploded, the orb flew into the air. I reached out with my telekinesis and hooves, somebody shouted something as the orb spun through the air. But when I caught it, the world suddenly vanished.

<-=======oo0 0oo=======->

I stood in a massive crowd, or more precisely the stal… okay, mare, mare, definitely the mare's eyes I was watching through and ears I was listening through was standing in a massive crowd. I don’t really know how best to describe it. I could feel and see and hear what my host did, but I couldn’t move or speak, I could only watch.

Fine decorations hung from the high marble walls, servants with platters of food were passing between hundreds of ponies wearing a mix of fancy military suits and flowing dresses who were dancing or milling about as a large band played a strange, but flowing music that grabbed your heart.

My host was holding a fancy glass cup of a slightly opaque gold colored liquid with an apple slice bobbing in the drink. She lifted the glass to her lips and a delicious taste of a semi-sweet honeyed wine flooded her tongue and poured down her throat leaving a strong aftertaste of apples and other spices that I couldn’t quite place. The familiar feeling of drunkenness set in causing my host to hold her head in a hoof with a fluffy white coat.

<“Fammy?”> a deep, but warm voice asked, I realized that the voice wasn’t speaking Ponish, but instead a strange language that dipped and rose in tone seemingly on a whim, but the words were somehow being translated into Ponish, <“Are you alright?”>

My host glanced to her right to a large earth pony stallion with a light pale green coat, a short cut wavy mane of deep red amber and a matching lampshade mustache, and a pair of slate gray eyes. He wore a black military dress uniform with silver trimmings and a dozen medals, bright crimson trousers, and a long scarf or shawl made of a brilliant purple wool with gold trimmings draped over his broad shoulders.

<“I just need a moment, Siggy,”> I felt myself say dismissively with a deep, but feminine voice, <“You know how mead affects me.”>

<“Isn’t that your third glass?”> the stallion asked, taking away the glass, <“Maybe I should get you something real to eat.”>

<“I’m fine, Siggy,”> my host insisted with a slight slur, wavering slightly.

<“Nonsense, Sweetie,”> the stallion said, taking the glass away, <“You stay right there, I’ll be right back.”>

My host’s head tilted onto the table and glanced around at the partygoers, their faces were impossibly detailed but were also a featureless ocean as my host focused on a single point, a table raised a dozen feet above the crowds with a dozen ponies wearing fancy clothing and eating a feast of impossibly good looking food in front of a couple of flags, the one on the right was a glorious golden sun on a field of crimson, the pre-war Equestrian flag, while the other had a black bird carrying a bundle of gold grain in one claw and a silver sword in the other over a pair of crosses with the vertical in the first third of the hoist side, the bottom red, the top light blue on a field of white.

An elderly earth pony mare sat at the table’s center, wearing a set of robes made from beautiful rich red wool over a creamy yellow coat and a crown made of a strange icy blue material that seemed to be chilling the air around it on her bright silver mane. Sitting beside the mare however was Princess Luna herself! This wasn’t the statue back at Dela Crow nor was this the mural panel back at the hotel, this was the Goddess of the Moon herself, in the flesh! Her magnificent mane looked like a deep indigo night sky of stars outlining her black tiara with a shining crescent moon in the center.

If my mouth could drop, it would’ve been halfway to the earth’s core.

A tall earth pony stallion stepped up to the table, he had a golden mane that was cut short and slicked back and a matching creamy yellow coat, he wore a matching black uniform with red trousers and a golden scarf/shawl draped over his shoulders. He bowed respectively to the living goddess before coming around the table to speak with the elderly mare, whatever he said made the mare excuse herself from the table and climb down the platform, leaving the stallion with the goddess.

My host glanced away from the table to a set of long curving stairs leading up to a balcony dozens of feet above the ballroom. Leaning on the polished railing was a striking pegasus mare. Even at this distance I could make out some of her appearance, she had a light icy blue coat and a dark grayish blue mane with a long twisting braid that was pulled down her neck and over her right shoulder. She wore a matching black uniform coat with silver trimmings and bright crimson trousers as most of the other ponies around, but unlike Siggy, her long scarf/shawl had a long pointed hood that was draped over her head obscuring most of her face. The pegasus mare slowly descended the stairs and was lost in the crowd.

Siggy came back with a small plate of steaming potatoes, glittering golden corn, deep green string beans, and a glass of milk. He placed it in front of my host who picked up a fork and knife after thanking her friend.

<“It’s nothing,”> he replied, pulling up a chair sitting across from my host, <“So tell me, how’s your next project coming along?”>

<“It’s not easy,”> My host swallowed the delicious food and answered, <“With the rising cost of supplies, at this rate I’ll be grateful to get enough krona to just about break even.”>

<“Sorry to hear that,”> Siggy offered, <“If you need help, I’m sure that High Lady Frigg could be convinced easily enough.”>

<“Thank you Sieghjert, but I want my work to-”>

Suddenly the pegasus mare from earlier came out from the crowds.

<“Ah,Holy Valkyrja Astora,”> Sieghjert greeted the mare, standing and saluting her, <“Tell us, how goes Foaledo?”>

<“Not good, Royal Consort,”> The mare shook her head, despondently, <“The Caesar’s legions had advanced toward the city from the White Sea over mountains of the dead youth of a generation and yet, they still came for eighty days and nights before the Crystal Empire’s Volunteer Corps had arrived and routed the enemy back to the border.”>

I had no idea what they were talking about.

<“You know how bullheaded the Roamani are,”> Sieghjert replied, <“Just like you Neighagra.”>

Before the mare could tell the stallion off, another large earth pony stallion with a red coat, a shortcut orange mane, and green eyes came up. He wore a dark green uniform with the Equestrian flag on his sleeve and a couple of medals on his chest.

“Sieghjert, there ya are,” he said with an accent that sounded similar to the Swampfolk, “Who did ya want me to meet?”

“Yes, this is my good friend, Fameuse of St Haul,” Sieghjert introduced my host to the newcomer in thickly accented Ponish, my host’s eyes were transfixed by his ruggedness, “Fammy, this is Sergeant Big McIntosh, the buck I met down in El-Alamane I was telling you about.”

“Ah yes,” my host said in equally accented Ponish, extending her hoof, “Just the other day Siggy was telling me of how your platoon held off an entire legion so our soldiers could get to safety, it’s so good to finally meet a brave Krigare such as yourself.”

“Pleasure’s mine, ma’am,” the stallion bowed politely, taking the mare’s hoof and gently kissing her jeweled bracelet, “Ah was lucky enough to see the artwork ya did fer Princess Luna’s coronation.”

“Did you now?” my host asked, clearly feigning surprise, “It was for Her Highness’ personal pleasure.”

<“Royal Consort,”> Astora addressed Sieghjert, <“Lord Gundyr wanted to speak with you… privately.”>

The two bid my host and the soldier farewell and left them alone. My host conversed with the soldier for what felt like hours, eventually they got up and exited the ballroom to a large balcony overlooking a massive cityscape with forests and tall mountains in the distance. My host leaned against a railing, the light breeze brushing through her fluffy coat and mane. She looked up at the dark sky and I saw a sea of stars with a bright crescent moon high above. I'd never seen the moon before beyond pictures and I wanted to watch it longer, but my host turned to the soldier.

“Tell me, Sergeant,” my host asked, her hoof reaching up and trailing down his muscular shoulder, “Have you considered modeling?”

“Ya mean art modeling?” he asked, puffing on the cigarette, “Can’t reckon if Ah ever has.”

“Would you be willing to model for me?” my host asked, “Just one painting.”

“Heh, Ah don’t know,” he started, nervously rubbing his neck, “Ah’d have to speak with muh-”

Suddenly thunderous explosions rocked the buildings and shattered windows as massive fiery clouds shot up in the air across the city.

<“What was that?”> my host shouted, glancing around the room at the chaos.

<“Stay here!”> Astora shouted, as she sprinted toward the balcony her wings spread and she flew into the night with dozens of other pegasi.

<-=======oo0 0oo=======->

My eye snapped open, my brain and body felt like I’d gone a few rounds with that crab-bot. I also felt an odd object in my neck. I reached up with my hoof and felt that it was a needle with plastic tubing running up to a mostly empty iv bag full of clear liquid hanging up on the wall beside me. I glanced around, finding myself back in the bank lobby on a cot. Specialist Blue Velour was kneeling at my side, her horn glowing with magic and Specialist Dragher and Private Spitflare were standing guard at the front doors.

I glanced over to the staircase and saw Umeme talking with Corporal Ruhe and Mel with Softshell’s crow perched on her shoulder.

“Just a little longer,” Umeme pleaded, “Velour said-”

“It’s been long enough.” the Corporal argued, clearly losing patience, “If your friend hasn’t woken up by now then he’s most likely not getting up at all.”

“You don’t know that!” Umeme shouted.

“Don’t know that! Don’t know that!” the crow cawed, flapping its wings.

I tried to lean up on an elbow, but stopped when a piercing stitch sliced through my side where the knife had stabbed me. I buckled over, desperately trying to breath.

“Easy now,” Specialist Velour noticed that I was awake and placed her mechanical hand on my shoulder, “Outcast, your friend’s awake.”

“Ozzy!” Umeme shouted, coming up and kneeling at my side, “You’re alive.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, slowly leaning back as the pain subsided, “What happened?”

“You grabbed a memory orb,” Mel explained, coming up.

“A what?” I asked, confused, Specialist Velour carefully pulled out the needle from my neck and put a bandage in its place.

“Orb! Orb!” the crow cawed, bobbing its head.

“This,” Specialist Velour said, holding up a glassy orb for me to see, “Old world archano-tech that can store memories to be accessed later by magic.”

“This thing?” I asked, picking up the orb and looking it over, it was about the size of my hoof and made of an odd crystal-like material that almost glowed slightly, “How long was I out?”

“Just about two hours,” Umeme said, offering me a thermos, “We were about to ship off to join Captain Fafnira.”

“What about the Ashbourne leader?” taking the thermos and down the liquid, almost immediately feeling better.

“Escaped while we were attacking, the Captain is leading the chase with most of the company. First Sergeant Henylus took a couple of squads to take the dead, injured and the captured Ashbourne back to the Wall for reinforcements,” Corporal Ruhe said, “You have ten minutes before we head out.”

The squad got ready to head out, I got up and pulled up my environmental suit and tied my saddle bag into place. Umeme came up and handed me my hunting rifle and bag of ammunition. I thanked him and strapped my rifle into place and put my magazines in my saddle bag.

“See anything fun?” Mel asked.

“It was some party, pre-war…” I said, picking up my gas mask, “Why do you wanna know?”

“Heard that some of them can be fun,” she shrugged, “An old friend of mine looked into one once and found a crazy orgy inside.”

*** *** ***

Umeme and I followed Mel’s squad as we marched down the narrow streets behind the bank. Captain Fafnira and the company were headed to another possible Ashbourne location, a clothing store called Ballen’s Fashion. According to my map, it was just three or four blocks away, but from the look of the buildings we passed, those blocks would probably be the better part of the day.

I looked around at the old buildings, most were severely damaged and some were even leaning at odd angles threatening to tip over while others had long since collapsed and were now blocking alleys and other streets.

Mel and Specialist Dragher had taken to the sky as scouts and returned every so often to Corporal Ruhe with updates about road conditions. We turned south and followed the street for a couple of blocks or so before coming across a large ash hill blocking the way.

We looked around for a way through and after a few minutes Specialist Velour called us over to a dilapidated cart, after pushing it to the side we uncovered an old ponyhole cover, we pulled it off and I shined my flashlight down the hole and found the ladder had broken in half, the bottom half lay rusting on the metal floor.

“There might not be a way back up if we jump down,” I told the squad.

“I’ll take that chance,” Corporal Ruhe said, brushing past me and starting to climb down into the utilities system.

“Chance! Chance!” the crow cawed before flying away into the sky.

The squad followed leaving Umeme and me behind, he shrugged and climbed down. I glanced around the empty street for a moment before following, pulling the ponyhole cover back into place and sealing The Ashes away. I climbed down the ladder before jumping down the ten or so feet to the floor, the squad was looking at a blue door to the west with their guns at the ready.

“Spitflare,” Corporal Ruhe ordered, gesturing to the door.

The pegasus approached the door and after a few tense moments, the faded paint covered hunk of steel slid up, revealing an empty tunnel with flickering lights.

“Guns ready,” Corporal Ruhe ordered, before leading the way.

We slowly made our way through the cramped tunnels, overhead pipes leaking sludgy water or steam. We came upon another door that opened to a small room with some old machinery and blown out spark generators and a red door in the south wall.

Private Spitflare knelt down and tried to unlock the door, but he gave up after a few minutes. Umeme offered to give it a try, but after a few bobby pins he also stopped. I searched the room and found a pony skeleton in tattered coveralls leaning back in a swivel chair at a desk in a small side room, I stepped closer and noticed the shotgun lying on the floor and the long dried blood coating the garishly pink poster on the wall behind them advertising the Fillydelphia Funfarm Amusement Park (“Everything the Grand Galloping Gala should have been,” endorses Pinkie Pie, “Every day, forever!)

I didn’t get it.

I searched the skeleton’s many pockets carefully and found a couple of 12 Gauge buckshot shells and a small photo of a young mare in a tight revealing dress lounging on a piano, on the back was a small note,

Those fuckers really did it… they blew up the world!

Survivors have been trying to get down here for days now, my supplies are running out and now they’ve backed me in here!

Celestia and Luna curse whoever’s fault this is!

I searched the desk and found a key ring with a couple of old keys, one blue and one red. I went back to the squad and handed them to Umeme. He unlocked the door and we continued down some stairs into a slightly larger room with a couple dozen skeletons scattered around the machinery on the floor.

“Shit,” Specialist Velour muttered quietly.

A few crickets scuttled away quickly as we spread about the room, when it was declared clear we focused on the three doors.

The single door on the east wall was slightly ajar and broken, allowing some kind of steam vapor to waft in from the dark tunnel beyond. The twin doors on the west wall looked operational, the north one was blue and the south one was red.

Corporal Ruhe decided to split up to cover more ground to find an exit, him, Specialist Velour, Private Spitflare, and Umeme would take the north tunnel while Mel, Specialist Dragher, and I would take the south tunnel. Umeme handed over the red key, we unlocked our doors and split up.

*** *** ***

We had made it deep into the utility tunnels, entering a large room that was split into three sections, the first and last sections were about ten feet square with flickering lights casting shadows over the broken machinery. The middle section was about thirtyish feet below and about a hundred feet across with skinny rusty stairways leading to the first and last sections and there was a massive hole in the ceiling from where a sky bus had crashed through letting in ash and hot air.

The problem was that the floor was covered in blackened sludgy briny sewage that appeared to be bubbling and emitting a horrendous odor that nearly made me puke. As I scooted to the edge my Pipbuck’s geiger counter started ticking, the dial drifting into the yellow section.

“Any ideas?” I asked.

“We could carry you across,” Mel offered, flexing her wing shoulders slightly.

The two griffons hooked their arms under my foreleg pits. Carefully lifting me into the air and crossing the radioactive gap before touching down on the opposite side.

We continued through the south tunnel for a couple hundred feet before stepping out into the white line metro tunnel, the southeast end disappeared behind a bend so we headed west. It had been somewhat quiet for a while before we reached another blockage of rubble near a blue utility door on the north side.

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Specialist Dragher shrugged as he tried to unlock the door, but kept failing for nearly fifteen minutes before an all too familiar roar echoed out from the darkness, making my spine shiver.

“What was that?” Dragher asked, pulling out a fresh bobby pin.

“It’s back,” I muttered, lifting my combat shotgun at the shadows.

“Focus on the door,” Mel said, taking my hunting rifle, “We will handle this suka!”

There was a thick stillness for one minute… two minutes… three… four… Suddenly there was another even louder roar that shook the tunnel’s curved walls causing some rusty metal and cracked concrete tumble from the ceiling before the Celestia damned manticore from yesterday slowly lumbered out of the darkness, looking even more pissed than before.

“Holy Egg,” Specialist Dragher swore.

“Ready for round two, suka?!” Mel shouted, firing a few rounds.

The manticore roared before pouncing. Leaping fifteen feet closing the distance. The world slowed to a near crawl as I slipped into S.A.T.S.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

My combat shotgun roared as beads of fiery lead struck the monster’s face and its wing, its massive paw swiped up at me, I ducked back just before a claw hooked and tore open one of my bandolier pockets causing shotgun shells to fall over the floor.

I rolled back, avoiding the tail as it swiped around. Mel jumped onto the monster’s back, jabbed my hunting rifle’s muzzle between its shoulders and fired.

BLAM! BLAM!

The tail swept up, striking the griffon’s back. Mel flew face first into the rubble pile before collapsing. I didn’t need my E.F.S. to tell me that her vitals weren’t good.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

I lifted my combat shotgun and fired into the manticore’s bleeding back, beads ripping through its wings. The monster roared in pain, the tail slammed into my chest, knocking the wind out of me. My magic released my combat shotgun as I flew through the air and landed hard in the rubble pile.

My head spun, stars danced in my eye and a sharp pain shot through my body for a few moments before I managed to find my ground, glancing around I spotted my combat shotgun a couple of feet away. The manticore roared at Mel, raising its paws to crush the unconscious griffon. I quickly pulled out Light and fired a couple of rounds.

BLAM! BLAM!

The monster backed away slightly and turned its attention on me, roaring in frustration.

BOOMF!

Suddenly the manticore’s shoulder exploded in a cloud of magical plasma that melted its flesh and wing. I looked around, thinking that Umeme had somehow found us. But no, Specialist Dragher stepped up beside me, reloading his grenade rifle before helping me up.

“Grab Mel, I’ll cover yah!” he shouted, handing me the red key as the manticore roared, the flesh of its shoulder and wing had melted enough for bones to poke out.

The monster pounced, its paws raised to swipe at us. I somehow managed to scramble out of the way and grabbed my combat shotgun as Specialist Dragher lifted his rifle just as the manticore was nearly a foot away- BOOMF! -and blasted the beast with another cloud of magical plasma that melted it’s face, causing the monster to stumble and crash into the wall, knocking some pipes loose and causing them to blow out some kind of steam.

“Move it!” the griffon shouted, reloading his rifle.

I scrambled over to Mel and carefully turned her over, thankfully she was still breathing, but the visor of her gas mask was cracked. I wrapped her in my magic and pulled her onto my back. I hurried over to the door and tried my best at cracking the lock.

“C’mon yah ugly fucker!” Specialist Dragher shouted, firing another cloud of magical plasma and forcing the manticore back down the tunnel.

I gave up on trying to pick the lock, I lifted up my combat shotgun, pressed its muzzle against the steel and prayed to Celestia as I fired the rest of my magazine.

Thankfully the door slid open, I laid Mel down on the floor inside, she groggily woke up and asked where Dragher was. I glanced back into the tunnel to Dragher and saw the griffon fly through the air as the manticore swiped him with blood spurting against the curved walls and the tracks on the floor.

“NO!” Mel shouted.

As the griffon fell through the air, he pointed his grenade rifle at the leaking pipes on the wall. I then realized that the steam wasn’t steam… it was gas!

He was going to blow the tunnel!

I quickly pushed Mel away from the door and wrapped my forelegs around her.

“Otpusti menya!” Mel shouted, desperately trying to claw her way out of my grasp as the door hissed closed- BOOM! -and buckled inward as the gas exploded.

“TONY!” she shouted, I let her go and she slammed her fists against the ancient steel.

I placed my hoof on her shoulder pauldron, “I’m sorry, Mel.”

“That heroic ublyudok…” she cried, leaning against the door.

“C’mon,” I stood, offering her my hoof, “I’m sure that he’d want us to continue.”

*** *** ***

We stumbled through the tunnel, rounded a corner and climbed a set of stairs to a red door, Mel’s blood dripping onto my suit. I pulled out the red key and unlocked the door. We stumbled into a small room full of pipes and gauges and ancient mainframes lining the walls with a desk tucked in the corner.

I helped Mel to lay down on the desk, taking the moment of silence to help her out of her suit to better assess her injuries. It was amazing that her spine hadn’t snapped when the manticore’s tail struck her, aside from heavy bruising her right wing was broken and hanging limply at her side and blood was trickling from her beak into her gas mask and she most likely had a concussion.

I quickly searched the room for anything to make a splint with and came back with a couple of steel bars and a roll of duct tape. I pulled out my canteen, some bandages and a couple of healing potions.

“I’m gonna examine your wing,” I told the griffon, she quietly murmured something.

I wrapped the limb with my anesthesia spell to offer some amount of comfort before pouring a healing potion onto the bandages and wrapping the appendage before setting it in between the steel bars and tightly wrapped it in duct tape. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to hold well enough till I got her some proper care.

I then carefully treated her back, I knew that healing potions wouldn’t fix broken bones so using my healing spell, I patched up her vertebras and tried to stop any internal bleeding. I carefully took off her gas mask and cleaned up the blood staining her face feathers. I sat down on the floor and leaned back against the desk, reaching into my saddle bag, I pulled out my last meal from the hotel and mixed in a healing potion. The meaty soup might’ve been lukewarm, but fuck did it feel like I was being given a belly rub by the Goddesses. As the liquid filled my body the pain in my chest slowly numbed before disappearing. After maybe a couple of hours, Mel started to come too.

“Feeling any better?” I asked, helping her to sit up.

She mumbled something again as I handed her a potion to drink.

“Hey, Ozzy,” Mel asked after a few minutes, “Why’re you helping us?”

I thought for a moment, debating whether or not to tell her the truth before answering, “I’m tracking down somebody from my stable, I heard that they were seen in Haagenheim so now I’m trying to get permission to cross The Fringe to get to her as quickly as possible.”

“Is she your fillyfriend or something?”

I spat out my drink rather comically and coughed, “No, she’s important to our stable is all.”

“Sure,” Mel rolled her eyes.

*** *** ***

I pushed up on the ponyhole cover and pushed it aside, I was in the middle of an alleyway with old trash cans, and the harsh skies were starting to lighten signaling daybreak. I climbed out and helped Mel up before sliding the ponyhole cover back in place. I checked my Pipbuck’s map. As much time as the bypass took us, we were much closer to our objective, just about two blocks now.

We made our way west to a street full of rusty half buried wagons and carts and buses and lined by more ruined buildings. When my E.F.S. told me the coast was clear of hostiles, we stepped into the street and cautiously made our way north.

“Any idea where we are?” I asked, the griffon just shrugged.

The street eventually ended in a large ash hill and collapsed building rubble. We looked around for a way through. Suddenly something swooped down and perched on Mel’s shoulder. It was Softshell’s crow.

“Well, hey there,” the griffon greeted the bird, “Are you okay?”

“Ok! Ok!” it cawed back, bobbing its head up and down.

“Have you seen the squad?”

“Mel”- I facehoofed -“you do realize that you’re talking to a bird… right?”

The crow bobbed its head again and flew away toward a collapsed apartment building, we followed before Mel spotted a narrow alleyway that led east. I took the lead, my combat shotgun lifted in front of me at the ready as we carefully made our way through the cramped space. Eventually we entered a small nook behind the building with an old rusty jungle gym and a few ancient skeletons laying in the ash.

Some of the skeletons looked really small.

I shook my head and followed Mel as she followed the crow to another alleyway across the nook. I stopped when I noticed an old pre-war poster hanging on the wall.

A pony, a zebra, and a griffon stood together on the poster’s left side saluting an Equestrian flag as the outlines of hundreds of soldiers marched toward the right with the Old Guard’s emblem patterned into the background with words on the top and the bottom:

Fighting for the Baltimarian way of life.

Join the Old Guard and do your part, TODAY!

Well, the Old Guard definitely did their part. As the rest of Equestria and possibly the whole world burned, Baltimare not only somehow survived the Last Day, but thrived in its destructive wake.

“Ozzy,” Mel’s voice got my attention, I noticed sporadic gunfire, “C’mon!”

We sprinted toward the noise, coming out onto a large bridge with a couple Ashbourne corpses littered about a railing overlooking an intersection where my E.F.S. told me a large group of maybe fifteen more Ashbourne were attacking a few Old Guard soldiers taking refuge in a mostly collapsed triangular building. The crow flew off over the scene.

“What do we do?” I asked, wishing that I still had my hunting rifle.

She looked around and spotted a staircase leading down to the intersection.

“Follow me,” she whispered, pulling out her pistol and taking the stairs, I followed.

We snuck down to the street and crept to a rusty wagon about forty feet away from the raiders. I loaded my combat shotgun and took aim.

BLAM!

A raider holding a heavy assault rifle went down, the one beside him noticed.

BLAM!

Another shot took him down as well, thankfully the others were too far away to notice. Two down, thirteen to go. Mel and I quickly moved up, she picked up the heavy assault rifle and a spare magazine and took aim at the next trio.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

With practised aim, the griffon took all three out before they could notice. Five down, ten to go. We moved up again and I took aim at one of the next two raiders.

BLAM!

Her head exploded, coating her friend in her blood and brains. The raider stumbled back in shock and looked around for her friend’s killer.

BLAM!

Mel ended her life. Seven down, eight to go.

As we grew nearer my E.F.S. flashed a few names and vitals, it was Umeme and Mel’s squad. They were still alive!

“It’s your squad,” I told Mel.

“BEHIND US!” one of the raiders shouted, turning their focus on us.

I ducked behind cover as bullets peppered the wagon. I reloaded and took some blind shots while my E.F.S. recharged as Mel ducked across the street to the cover of an old mailbox. I reloaded and leaned out to find a target, just in time to see one of the raiders charging at me holding up a spear and a rusty ponyhole cover in a cloud of his magic to serve as a makeshift shield. I lined up my sights and slipped into S.A.T.S. As the world slowed I noticed that the armor on the raider’s legs looked weakened.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Buckshot ripped through the rusty metal and his flesh, the raider tripped and stumbled. The spear and ponyhole cover both slipped from his magic and the cover went spinning into Mel’s cover.

BLAM!

Buckshot tore through his helmet and gas mask, coating the street in blood and brains. Eight down, seven to go.

BRRRRRRRR!

Suddenly my wagon was pelted by a storm of bullets that sounded like a buzz saw for a few long moments before stopping. I peeked out to see the source… and swore for Celestia to fuck me with her forehooves.

One of the raiders, probably their leader, was wearing a suit of some kind of power armor that seemed to be hoof-forged from scrap metal and plates of old combat armor. The machine guns on the battle saddle reloaded bullet belts before firing at me again.

BLAM!

I took the moment to aim and fire at the raider, but my buckshot bounced off harmlessly. I wished I still had my hunting rifle, its armor-piercing bullets would’ve been perfect for this!

BRRRRRR!

The bullets blasted my cover, I buried myself as close to the street as possible as the bullets shredded through the rusty steel like it was wet paper!

BLAM! BOOM!

Suddenly, there was a large fireball that rocked the intersection as metal shards flew every which way. I leaned out of cover and saw the power armored raider had exploded, their corpse was left smoldering in the armor’s twisted frame and plating. I glanced up to the building and saw Umeme standing in a window frame with his rifle. Nine down, six to go.

The rest of Mel’s squad offered covering fire as Mel and I sprinted at the remaining raiders, my magic reached down and picked up the spear, lifting it up I noticed that it was a kitchen knife tied to a broom handle. I pointed the blade at a raider holding a 45 Long revolver in their magic as I charged over the distance, jumping over the smoldering power armor. I jumped over their cover and drove the blade into the gap of the raider’s chest plate and shoulder pauldron. Blood spurted out of the wound and the raider dropped their revolver. I grabbed the spear handle with my hooves and forced my weight down as the raider struggled under me. My magic focused on the revolver, picking it up I jammed its barrel into the raider’s neck, cocked the hammer and fired.

BLAM!

The raider’s head exploded, coating the street in blood and brains. I let go of the spear dropped back, breathing heavily from the extraneous activity, the rest of the raiders laid around the space killed by the others. I examined the revolver, it was an older design with a loading gate cylinder which forced the user to load each bullet individually instead of as a group in the swing out design of the 44 Magnums. I unclasped the raider’s ammo belt, just about sixty bullets, and clasped it around my hips. When it was in place I holstered the revolver and joined Umeme and Mel’s squad.

The building’s entrance room was mostly collapsed with broken furniture buried under rubble from the upper floors and a set of slanted stairs leading up. Mel’s squad looked worse for wear, Private Spitflare had bandages wrapped around his head and now Specialist Velour was wrapping one on his foreleg’s knee and Corporal Ruhe was to the side talking with Mel.

“Ozzy,” Umeme greeted me as he climbed down from his perch on the upper floor, “Good to see that you’re alright.”

“Me too,” I said, “What happened in your tunnel?”

“We ended up in a cricket den-”

“Where’s Tony?” Corporal Ruhe asked, interrupting Umeme, “What happened?”

“He’s…” Mel struggled to say, not meeting the stallion’s eyes, “he’s dead.”

“W-what?” the Corporal asked.

“There was a manticore in the metro tunnel,” I explained, “He gave his life to stall the beast so we could escape, when he was nearly killed he shot a leaking gas pipe to blow up the tunnel and kill it.”

The squad silently stared at me before Mel raised a hand outward.

“Lonely Mother Alda,” Mel quietly murmured, “Please, guide Tony’s soul to the Egg.”

“To the Egg,” the squad repeated respectively, pressing their hooves to their chest plates.

I glanced at Umeme, who shrugged.

*** *** ***

About an hour later we were making our way down twisting alleyways and broken buildings trying to find a way through to our objective. My map wasn’t being of much help, we rounded a corner and found a staircase leading up to a street.

My E.F.S. told me it was clear of hostiles, so we made our way toward a ruined office building, or maybe it was a library? These damned buildings were starting to blend together. We turned down a street going west, but stopped because it had collapsed into the metro tunnel below leaving a massive gap about forty feet across, too far to jump.

“Scheiẞe,” Corporal Ruhe muttered through his gas mask, “Look around for a way across.”

“What about here?” I asked, pointing a hoof to the ruined building.

Suddenly my PipBuck randomly decided to label this particular ruin as the Baltimare Transit Authority Rosedale Headquarters. The building was really little more than a few walls still standing with most of the rest having fallen to the onslaught of time and neglect.

We slowly and carefully made our way through the rooms and hallway before reaching what was probably the main room where a lot of pony, zebra, and griffon skeletons lay buried in ash and debris. Most of the skeletons were wearing tattered clothing, but the ones behind the large counter splitting the room were wearing tattered blue uniforms with small circle badges made out of brass that said BTA on them and old worn out name tags.

According to the time schedules hanging up on the walls the metro trains came by every half hour.

“Split up, look for supplies,” Corporal Ruhe ordered.

“Supplies, supplies,” Softshell’s crow squawked, flapping its wings.

The squad split up, I stepped into a small room behind the counter with a couple of tables, a fridge and some cabinets that was probably the breakroom. One of the skeletons at a table by a broken window was holding a coffee cup in their hooves that was somehow clean despite the ash. I picked up the cup and poured the ancient sludgy liquid inside out the window. Putting the cup back, I checked the cabinets, finding a few old plates and glasses, but nothing of use. I then checked the fridge and found lots of ancient mold from food and drinks that had long since expired. I shut the door and left the room.

“Anything?” Umeme asked, stepping out of a closet.

“Just mold.”

I stepped up some stairs to the ruined second floor and stepped into a small office with a griffon skeleton slumped over a rusty desk in front of a cloudy broken window with a rusty 45 Auto pistol in their hand and a hole in the side of their skull. I picked over the desk and found a box of 45 Auto bullets in a bottom drawer, putting it in my saddle bag.

I wrapped the window in my magic and forced it open, kicking up a cloud of ash and dust. When everything cleared enough I looked out across the tunnel gap, noticing a large building with a flickering sign, Ballen’s Fashion. Our target, it was just on the other side.

All we needed was a way across.

As I left the room I noticed Specialist Blue Velour was looking through a medicine cabinet and stuffing old healing potions and other medicines into her armor’s pouches.

“Hey, did you heal Mel?” the healer asked.

“Yeah, I can mostly do scrapes and cuts, broken bones are a little difficult,” I said, scratching the back of my head, “Will she be alright?”

“You did well enough given your circumstances. She’ll need proper care, more than I can provide her, but she should be able to fight for now.”

There was a bit of silence before I asked, “Do you think you could train me?”

The healer took a moment to think, “If we make it back to the Wall, I suppose I could.”

“Over here!” a voice called out from the first floor.

Hurrying down we found Private Spitflare in a room whose door marked it as a storage closet. He was standing beside an ancient support beam from a taller partially ruined building that had collapsed into our building offering a way into the metro tunnel.

“I don’t know,” Specialist Velour voiced her opinion to no one specific.

“Found another way?” the pegasus asked the healer, defensively, the squad slowly shook their heads, “Then it’s our only choice.”

With that, we made our way down the beam into the tunnel, Softshell’s crow flew off. I spotted a red utility door in the curved wall, after Umeme unlocked it, the hunk of ancient painted steel hissed open and we made our way through a cramped tunnel before coming to a dead end created by a cave-in.

“Up there,” Private Spitflare pointed a hoof to the ceiling, I shined my flashlight and saw a rusty ladder hanging down about halfway up.

“Someone, give me a lift,” I said.

Climbing on Specialist Velour’s back, I jumped up and grabbed the lowest rung, thankful that it held my weight, I started climbing up to the ponyhole cover. Shoving it to the side, I gave a quick glance around and found myself in an old basement. When my E.F.S. told me the room was clear, I climbed up.

“Come on up,” I shouted down the dark hole.

As the squad slowly climbed up I flicked on my flashlight and glanced around the dark gloomy room. Lots of old crates and storage boxes lined the walls with a rusty metal door hanging open slightly. I stepped up to it, pulled out Light and carefully opened it.

“Anything?” Umeme asked, climbing out.

My flashlight illuminated a long empty hallway with what looked like a set of stairs on the far end. Suddenly the building shook violently, dust raining down from the plaster ceiling and I stumbled before catching my footing.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Has to be the Captain,” Private Spitflare commented, a little too calmly for my liking.

“Is she an explosives expert?” I asked, wondering how a pony, zebra, or griffon could shake a whole building.

“Probably the heavy troopers,” Umeme offered.

We climbed the stairs and came to a section of the first floor where long ruined children’s clothing hung on rows and rows of racks and were stacked on shelves lining the crumbling walls which showed incredibly faded and chipped murals of happy children enjoying their new clothes.

I checked my map, the building was set up with three floors centered around an octagonal courtyard. When I heard a soft chorus of gunfire, I pulled out my revolver, opened the loading gate, pushed out the spent cases, and loaded in five fresh rounds of 45 Long.

We carefully made our way toward the central courtyard, finding dozens of Ashbourne corpses lay sprawled in the ash drifting in from the cracked domed window high above us. At the center of the courtyard was a small fountain of maybe a sunflower? Some of the Ashbourne had decorated it with a few bleached skeletons and twisted wire.

BOOM!

Suddenly a room on the top floor exploded in golden flames that showered down and dissipated before reaching us. A few Ashbourne even jumped out of the flaming wreckage and plummeted landing around us with sickeningly wet splats. Despite the distance I could still feel the heat through my mask, suit, and armor.

“That’s the Captain,” Corporal Ruhe declared, climbing to his hooves and glancing up.

I was reminded of the projection from the office building lobby, a terrible feeling filled my gut, but the squad brushed past me and continued on.

“C’mon,” Umeme said, we followed.

The second floor was scattered with more Ashbourne corpses around destroyed barricades of ruined furniture and scrap steel, the gunfire got louder as we picked our way through the carnage to a large barricade. I lifted a hatch and crawled into a room with racks full of ruined stallion clothing and horseshoes hanging on the walls. The room was littered with a dozen fresh Ashbourne corpses and a couple of soldiers wearing dark blue power armor with heavy weapons picking over the fresh corpses with a griffon wearing a strange suit of power armor watching over them.

“Who the hell are you?” the griffon shouted when they noticed us, all of the soldiers raised their rifles.

*** *** ***

It took some explaining to the soldiers why I had just crawled into their camp, but thankfully Mel’s Squad made the truth a little easier to believe. Their leader was the griffon soldier, Staff Sergeant Hendrik von Roebeak, was of a physically imposing stature encased in a suit of dark blue power armor designed for griffons he called Mark Two Star One and the twin triple barreled magical energy miniguns integrated in its battle saddle.

“Where’s the Captain?” Corporal Ruhe asked.

“She’s leading the charge,” Staff Sergeant von Roebeck answered, gesturing across the courtyard to the raging fire engulfing the third floor, “but she seems to be having trouble with a large barricade and can’t break through, we were trying to find a way around to flank them when we encountered these egg suckers who had the same idea.”

The two soldiers talked some more in their language before the Staff Sergeant gave the Corporal some directions that we followed and climbed some stairs to the third floor. My E.F.S. flashed a couple of markers when we reached the crumbling landing. I gestured to Umeme and the squad before peeking around the corner. Standing guard by a door were two Ashbourne, one raider had a shovel with a serrated edge and the other had a rusty assault rifle hanging by its strap around their neck. I gestured to Umeme and Mel’s squad and we stormed around the corner. The raiders turned in our direction as I aimed Light and my revolver with my magic and time slowed as I slipped into S.A.T.S.

BLAM! BLAM!

The first bullet sliced through the air as time corrected, striking the shovel raider’s neck severing the hose connecting his gas mask to his air tank. The second bullet struck the assault rifle raider’s receiver, denting the bolt just enough to jam it closed. Umeme and the squad moved up and eliminated the raiders before coming up on the door. I reloaded my revolver as I took a moment for my S.A.T.S. to recover. Pressing against the wall by the door, I waited for my E.F.S. to calibrate. A lot of red markers popped up on my compass, close to twenty and those were the ones I could see. I glanced at Mel’s squad and saw the heavy troopers led by Staff Sergeant von Roebeak coming up the stairs.

“Okay, I see twenty on my E.F.S., there’s gotta be more in there,” I whispered to the soldiers, “What now?”

“Now?” the power armored griffon chuckled maliciously, “Now we teach them why you fear the Old Guard.”

*** *** ***

The door exploded in a shower of splinters as the heavy troopers stormed inside, bullets flew every which way and soon the markers on my E.F.S. blinked out. I motioned to Corporal Ruhe and he ordered his squad into the room.

The scene was utter chaos… dozens of Ashbourne desperately trying to hold off the steel encased invaders while also trying to hold off the main attackers from the smoldering barricade across from us filling the air with heavy smoke. Many raiders retreated to another door labeled as Roof Access on the far side of the triangular room, but were quickly cut down by the heavy troopers before focusing on the smoldering barricade.

“Go after them!” Staff Sergeant von Roebeak ordered, “Try to stall them, we’ll come with backup.”

As ordered we hurried out the door and stepped out onto a gravel roof and were treated with a grand view of The Ashes with ash billowing all around us from a massive storm off in the distance and I spotted Softshell’s crow circling.

The Ashbourne were sprinting across the buckling roof toward a bridge made from a rusty construction crane leading across the street to another ruined building… and standing guard was another raider encased in scrap metal power armor with a pair of miniguns on their battle saddle!

“Oh shit,” I felt my mouth say.

Someone grabbed my shoulder and yanked me behind an overturned wagon just before a hornet storm of bullets pierced the smoke and ash filled air.

BRRRRRRRRRR!

Mel and I pressed ourselves as flat to the floor as possible as the bullets sliced into our cover before their attention was distracted by Mel’s squad. Through the smoke and billowing ash I thought I spotted Umeme pulling his hood up and vanishing. I holstered my pistols and pulled out my combat shotgun, making sure it was loaded before Mel and I jumped out, sprinted to the roof edge and targeted the retreating raiders.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Fiery lead beads sliced through the air peppering a couple of the raiders’ backsides, one of them stumbled and fell dozens of feet to the streets below, but the rest managed to cross out of range.

“Ozzy!” Mel shouted.

Suddenly pain sliced through my flank and I collapsed onto the gravel. Biting through the sudden pain I spotted my attacker, the power armor raider came stomping up, minigun barrels smoking. They took a moment to push the crane bridge to the side before it tilted off the edge and tumbled into the street, kicking up a massive cloud of ash and debris. They turned their attention to me, raised their armored hoof above my head and echoed out harsh cruel laughter.

BLAM!

Suddenly blood gushed out any cracks in the helmet, splattering over my visor before the raider tilted forward and tumbled off the roof into the street below. As I wiped away the blood, Umeme materialized to my side rifle raised.

“You okay?” he asked, offering his hoof.

“Just a few bruises,” I responded, taking his hoof and climbing up.

*** *** ***

We followed Mel’s squad back into the building and saw that the heavy troopers had torn down the barricade and were busy stomping out the fire. More soldiers were clearing out the rest of the building, killing any remaining Ashbourne.

“We don’t have enough facilities to take them as Workers,” Staff Sergeant von Roebeak explained, leading us to an office room with a window overlooking the street outside.

Sitting in a swivel chair was a tied up Ashbourne, she was an earth pony mare with a muted bubblegum pink afro mane and a muted cherry red coat covered in scars and healing open sores oozing some kind of gooey puss. Her environmental suit was armored with rusty steel plates and leather pads and straps.

Standing in front of her was a very tall lizard-like creature that was easily head and shoulders above everyone else in the room. The creature had ashen blue scales with a lighter gray underbelly and multicolored feathers trailing down its incredibly long snake-like tail ending in a plume.

“Tell us where you’re hiding it, Cherry Drop,” the lizard ordered the mare.

The mare started chuckling, “It’s too late, you can’t stop us now.”

The way she cackled the words made my heart drop.

“Explain yourself,” the lizard ordered, smoke starting to drift out of her wide mouth as she bared her sharp looking fangs.

The mare’s chuckling became a hard cackling, “The Myre will destroy your fucking precious city and will grow to devour this ruined world!”

The mare weakly glanced up and then I noticed what looked scarily like plant roots burrowing through her flesh from under her suit’s collar!

“SHIT!” the Captain shouted, “GET BACK!”

Everyone frantically jumped out of the room and a unicorn threw up a magical shield just as Cherry Drop bubbled and swelled up like a balloon to almost twice her size before exploding into a massive display of rainbow colored plant tendrils and vines that shot out in every direction. Captain Fafnira opened her mouth wide and massive golden flames exploded out, cooking the room and some of the hallway. If not for the shield, we would’ve been broiled alive! As the flames died down I glanced back into the room, the plants and vines were incinerated into multicolored ash that slowly drifted into the smoldering hole in the wall.

“Dammit,” the Captain muttered before turning to the soldiers, “The power station, it has to be there.”

Level Up: New Quest Perk: Ashwalker: You’ve walked in the blistering heat of The Ashes and were only slightly singed. You gain a 5% increase in resistance to all fire based attacks.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight
“It’s not that simple…”

“Ow! Watch it!” I snapped.

“Oh be quiet,” Specialist Velour chastised me, focusing her magic on removing the bullets and fixing the bruising.

I was lying on my side on a ruined bench in the offices, with my environment suit pulled down so the healer could attend to my flank. I suppose I should’ve been grateful that my suit’s armor plates did their job blocking the worst of the damage and that the power armored raider hadn’t been using armor-piercing rounds. But the searing pain was making it difficult. Umeme was talking with one of the heavy troopers with a pair of grenade machine guns when Captain Fafnira came up.

“Second Lieutenant Vyacheslavovich,” Captain Fafnira ordered a heavy trooper, “Take the troops and push the raiders back to the power station, take no prisoners.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the trooper brought his forehoof in a salute before barking orders to the soldiers to move out.

“So,” the Captain said, turning to address Umeme and I, “Mind telling me why a couple of mercs ventured into an active war zone?”

“Well, uh… Ma’am,” I started, glancing up at the fearsome dragon, “Colonel Basken hired us to find your company and bring you back to the Wall.”

“Of course Gus wouldn’t send us any more soldiers,” the dragon muttered bitterly to herself, “Listen, we’re on the edge of finally destroying these filthy Ashbourne for good, if you fight with us I will personally double whatever the Colonel has promised you.”

My ears perked up at that, the Colonel promised us one way passage through The Fringe…. Umeme and I exchanged looks, he silently nodded.

I climbed to my hooves and looked at the dragon in her sulfur yellow eyes, “You have a deal, Captain.”

*** *** ***

BOOM!

The side of a tall building exploded, raining a shower of splintered wood, crumbling bricks, and shattered concrete on some Ashbourne as the Old Guard’s onslaught pushed the raiders down the street. We were a couple of blocks northeast of the clothing store and we’d already killed dozens of raiders on our push toward a set of double columns looming in the distance.

But we had hit a roadblock, literally.

The Ashbourne had erected a massive barricade of twisted rusty steel, building rubble, wrecked vehicles, and a massive billboard advertising a company called Enteron Waste Management Services.

“Keep pushing!” Captain Fafnira shouted as she charged into the gunfire, her heavy machine gun spitting bursts of lead.

I ducked behind a rusty wagon and reloaded my combat shotgun before leaning out and firing at an Ashbourne machine gun nest.

BLAM!

One of the raiders was clipped and collapsed behind the barricade, dropping the ammo box they were carrying. The machine gunner turned on me before I could target them, I ducked back into cover. As bullets sliced into my cover, a heavy trooper with a pair of machine guns came up motioning a hoof for me to get behind them. As I did, a large box in the side of their battle saddle sprung open, unleashing a carrot shaped rocket that arrowed through the air toward the building above the nest leaving a series of red contrails in their wake.

KA-BOOM!

The side of the building exploded in a shower of debris as it collapsed on the raiders, crushing them and clearing a path through the barricade.

“CHARGE!” Captain Fafnira shouted, jumping up from cover.

The soldiers charged, the raiders desperately tried to hold their ground, but just like at the bank and the clothing store it would be in vain as they were slaughtered. The soldiers licked their wounds before we marched for several blocks of increasingly crowded, collapsing buildings before coming onto a massive forest full of long dead trees surrounding a massive building with the two columns defiantly jutting into the sky as the storm approached.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Power station,” a soldier answered, “Massive furnaces that burned coal or boiled oil to generate power to operate a lot of non-magical conveniences that came out of Equestria’s technological revolution. Scattered records indicate that there were hundreds dotted around the Wastelands.”

He pointed an armored hoof to a marching trail of giant rusty metal towers holding up long cables shifting around in the wind and ash, several had collapsed, “Those carried the generated power to Baltimare.”

Wow. I thought about that statement, the spark generators back in Stable Fifty-Two were once rated to produce enough electricity for over a thousand years, in reality though….

“Okay, round up,” Captain Fafnira ordered, everyone circled around the dragon, “We push on to the power station. Now we don’t know how many of the bastards are left, could be a dozen, could be a thousand, though I doubt that, be ready for anything. We will split into two groups, half will follow me into the belly of the beast while the other half will go with Gunnery Sergeant Bucket to act as bombardment and back up. Any questions?”

“What’s so important about this place, Ma’am?” Umeme asked, raising his hoof, a question that I hadn’t considered when taking this job.

“Good question, merc,” the dragon commented, “Our intelligence indicates that the Ashbourne have uncovered a powerful weapon believed to have been lost following the Last Day. Our job is to locate and recover it. If there aren't any other questions, prepare yourselves.”

As everyone got ready, a thought wedged itself in my mind. With how technologically advanced the Old Guard seemed to be and how powerful Baltimare was in the North Shore, what kind of weapon could they possibly fear?

*** *** ***

Umeme and I followed Mel’s squad and Captain Fafnira’s half of the company as we pushed up the forest to a massive hill where the slumbering beast of the decaying power plant towered over everything. The Ashbourne were putting up a desperate struggle with hastily dug trenches and erected barricades made from long dead tree husks, scrap metal, and crumbling concrete that would ultimately do very little to impede their upcoming slaughter.

“Listen up, this’ll be just like the bank, one squad will sneak in through the back while the rest of us will serve as a distraction. Any volunteers?” the Captain asked before pointing her tail tip at Umeme and me, “You two will go around through the back and get that weapon!”

We nodded and hurried around to the plant’s northeast side as the rest of the soldiers commenced their assault. My PipBuck’s map told me there was an entrance to the service tunnels; we found it at the bottom of a smoldering crater.

*** *** ***

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

My combat shotgun rang out through the rusty metal hallways as Umeme and I fought through at a very slow pace. The tunnels were very badly damaged and Ashbourne had set up traps and land mines. Looks like they learned from the bank. We followed the tunnel to a locked door when suddenly the whole tunnel shook from the battle above us causing me to almost lose my footing.

Suddenly my E.F.S. flashed a red blip as the door hissed open and a raider charged at us… with a fucking chainsaw!

“YOUSE GONNA GET IT NOW, CITY BOYS!” she shouted over the almost deafening screech of her makeshift weapon.

I reflexively raised up my combat shotgun to protect myself, the jagged blade sliced into my weapon, biting deep and shooting out sparks. Umeme pulled me out of the way just before the screeching chainsaw could slice through my defense, my combat shotgun clattered to the floor. The chainsaw slashed into the wall, sending up a shower of sparks. Umeme had his knife out, slashing at our attacker and striking her reinforced hoofball helmet. The raider recoiled back, letting go of the chainsaw so it tumbled to the metal floor with a loud CLANG!

“Grab it!” Umeme shouted, slashing at the raider, pushing her back toward the doorway.

I focused my magic on the makeshift weapon, there were dozens of spikes haphazardly welded onto the chain to rip into armor and flesh better. Picking up the weapon, I yanked on the cord one, two, three times before it roared back to life.

“Get outta the way!” I shouted, charging the raider.

Umeme jumped into a side hallway just before the chainsaw’s wicked blade slammed between the raider’s shoulder and neck. Ripping through her thinner armor and slicing into her flesh and bone underneath.

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” The raider screeched in pain as blood and metal sparks flew in every direction painting me, the walls, the ceiling, and the floor.

Eventually, the chainsaw ran out of fuel and the blade got caught and jammed in the raider’s mangled armor and tattered flesh. I released my magic and the mangled remains of the raider and the weapon collapsed into the open doorway, blood still bubbling out onto the floor where it pooled.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, wiping the blood off of my visor and staring down at what I just did.

I looked down at my blood drenched hooves, the world slowed for a moment before a voice called my attention, “What?”

“I said, ‘Not bad,’” Umeme repeated, handing me my combat shotgun, “Let’s go.”

I took my shotgun and checked it over, the receiver was ruined, a massive gash trailed down from the bolt to the trigger housing. Nothing that I could repair. I pulled out the magazine and stashed in my saddle bag for later. Unholstering Light and my revolver, I followed Umeme through the room where the raider came from.

The room was mostly full of broken machinery that sparked and sputtered as light and ash drifted in from the open doorway in the south wall. Looking around, my E.F.S. suddenly flashed another red blip as a raider jumped out of the doorway, double barrel shotgun raised.

“GIT OUT!” he shouted, firing both rounds.

BLAM! BLAM!

Buckshot peppered the wall as we ducked out of the way. I slid into S.A.T.S. time slowing as I targeted him.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

Light roared out as time corrected, bullets slicing the stuffy air and striking the raider’s shoulder and neck. He stumbled and collapsed into a rusty broken machine. I picked up the shotgun, it was in far better condition than I was expecting. The dark wood stock and the barrels both had been sawed off so it was far more compact and a pair of hammers struck the firing pins which detonated the shells. I opened the breech and ejected the spent shells, 12 Gauge thank the Goddesses. I reloaded my new weapon with red band shells, cocked back the hammers, and held it up to the ready as I followed Umeme up the stairs.

The stairs lead up to a set of offices adjacent to an employee break room. While Umeme took the offices, I checked the break room. The room had a stove, countertops, a fridge, a couple of old tables, scattered chairs, and a broken window letting in ash and eerie harsh light. Beside the window were a couple of posters, one declared that Pinkie Pie was still watching me. The other showed a worker pony with a welding torch working on a suit of Mark One power armor:

Paving the way toward a brighter Future!

Detrot Industrial

An Orion Solutions Inc Company

Opening the old rusty fridge I weirdly found a small sack and an ammo box sitting inside. Taking them out I opened the sack and found it was full of grenades! Most were frag or magical plasma, marked by a green pin, the three that caught my attention were about the size of a can of beans and marked by a white pin. I wrapped my magic around one, but my magic kept dissolving. I finally picked it up with my hooves and looked it over, noticing that the writing on the side wasn’t Ponish, but instead Roamani.

“Zebras had grenades?” I mused, it made sense.

I turned my attention to the ammo box and tried to open it but I found it locked up tight.

“I should learn to pick these damn things,” I muttered to myself, “Maybe Umeme could teach me?”

I was about to go find Umeme when suddenly a voice called out, “Hey, Cinnamon, you dealt with those damn crickets yet?”

Shit!

I spun around, getting behind the fridge door and lifting up my shotgun at the ready. A griffon raider stepped through the doorway and he had an old battered hunting shotgun in his armored hands. He glanced around the room like he couldn’t quite see for some reason.

“Whatcha doing in there, Cinnamon?” he asked, disgruntled, “Willow ‘ill have yer hooves if she catches yah.”

I swallowed hard before getting up, shotgun raised.

“What the fuck?” the raider asked, surprised.

BLAM! BLAM!

The raider’s chest was peppered by incendiary buckshot causing him to drop his rifle and fall backward. He twitched and groaned, struggling to reach his weapon. My magic reached out around it and pushed it out of his reach as I approached. The raider glared up at me as I broke open my shotgun and reloaded, cocking the hammers back.

“Ya… fucker!” he spat at me.

Pressing my shotgun’s muzzle against the raider’s head, I telekinetically pulled the trigger.

BLAM!

Bits of brain, skull, and blood sprayed across the floor. I silently reloaded as Umeme came running.

“What happened?” Umeme asked panting, glancing down at the dead raider, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I found an ammo box that’s locked,” I opened the grenade sack, “And there’s these.”

He whistled appreciatively, taking out the can shaped grenade, “Antimagic, heard about these being used to disable pony magic defensive positions if you want to take prisoners.”

“Antimagic,” I whispered to myself, shuddering slightly.

“Here, take them,” I said, offering the sack, “You’re better with explosives than me.”

My magic meant everything to me, I didn’t like the idea of losing it to some grenade.

Umeme took a look at the rusty box and shook his head, “Lock’s rusted shut, no way to open it.”

“Damn,” I muttered.

I glanced over the cooling raider corpse, taking some 12 Gauge shotgun shells that looked more like solid bullets than buckshot. Looking at the brass head I noticed it said SLUG on it with the gauge. I broke open my shotgun and replaced one incendiary shell with a slug.

“C’mon,” Umeme said, “We still have a weapon to find.”

We followed another staircase up to another set of offices with windows overlooking the power plant’s main floor, full of ancient massive generators lined up in five aisles and wall furnaces that once generated power for Baltimare with massive windows allowing light and ash to swirl in from the storm outside. A number of metal catwalks bisected the space above leading up to more office boxes and what looked like the Overseer’s office box that had a massive circular company logo of a hippo (that looked like the Riggers’ logo) slowly peeling away over the circular window:

Hippocampus Energy:

Hydroelectric, Coal, Sewage

Fortunately the floor seemed mostly deserted, most of the raiders must’ve been outside defending against the battle. As if on cue an explosion rocked the building causing a couple of catwalks to collapse and fall.

“What now?” I asked, quietly.

Umeme looked around the room thinking, “Okay, you go down to the floor, look around for anything resembling the weapon. I’ll search the offices upstairs. We find it then we get the hell out of here.”

I nodded, but then asked, “Wait, you don’t know what the weapon is?”

“No,” he quietly admitted, “but just look around for anything really dangerous looking.”

I couldn’t really argue with that, Umeme pulled up his cloak’s hood and vanished into thin air. I glanced down at the floor again before looking for a way down. Eventually spotting a mostly intact staircase across the room.

*** *** ***

I held my shotgun at the ready as I explored more offices, the windows were blocked off by ruined desks made into makeshift barricades, in one office I found the blasted remains of a brainbot and a few piles of red ash. I rounded a corner and found the staircase. Taking it down, I was on the plant’s main floor.

Some of the machinery clicked and hummed as they desperately struggled to chug along toward their original functions. Maybe the Ashbourne somehow managed to repair some machines, or maybe this place wasn’t damaged as badly from two centuries of neglect and decay.

I didn’t really know which one I preferred.

I checked under every machine for anything of value, mostly finding trash that had blown in from outside. I checked some rooms but found nothing of use until I checked the last room where I noticed a small pegasus skeleton dressed in a faded ragged suit huddled in the corner beside a blown up control panel that said Ubercite Only. I knelt beside the skeleton to check it, then I remembered back to the Orion Solutions First Offices.

“You must be Ms Jonagold,” I quietly murmured, “I don’t know if you did your job, but thank you, I guess.”

Getting up I went back to the main room. What was I going to do, I hadn’t found anything even remotely resembling a big scary weapon. Hopefully Umeme was having better luck upstairs.

Suddenly, a window shattered inward and a large figure loomed in its place. I ducked behind a generator as a pair of bright spotlights pierced the ash and shined around the room, looking. The floor shook as the figure jumped down and broken glass crackled as it stepped around.

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!

I backed up and crawled under the generator before the spotlights flooded my aisle, my heart thundered in my ears before the lights moved on. I carefully shimmied out of my hiding spot into the next aisle and gingerly made my way to the stairs.

“Where are you?!” a very deep gravelly voice filled my ears and sent cold shivers up my spine.

What the fucking fuck was this damn thing?! My mind was racing a mile a minute trying desperately to think up a way out of this. I ducked under another piece of machinery just before the spotlights flew past my aisle again. Glancing up I figured that the stairs couldn’t have been more than a dozen feet away.

“You can do this,” I quietly whispered to myself, slowly shimmying under the generators.

Suddenly the generator I was just under crumpled like tissue paper!

CRUNCH!

“Where are you?!” the low gravelly voice shouted in frustration, filling the room.

Carefully glancing up, I felt my heart stop in dread. The figure was easily as tall as the Soul of Judgement and able to stand back on its hindlegs. Its armor loosely resembled Q’osk’s lorica segmentata in style, but it was clearly related to the Soul of Judgement in function with a massive spiraled horn that glowed with bloody red magic and a pair of strong mechanical wings several feet in length.

“Come out!”

As they looked around the room I saw their helmet was enclosed with a stoic face molded from blackened aged steel with long feathering scars starting at the right corner of their slightly parted steel lips, trailed across the right side of their muzzle, down the interlocking plates of its strong mechanical neck, and disappearing below the chest plate’s collar. Its hindlegs were covered by a long tattered skirt that was so stained with multicolored ash I couldn’t tell what its original color was.

“Come out of your hiding.”

They dropped down to the floor in my aisle. I saw a wicked looking sword spear hybrid thing about my body length with a broken spiraling handle of dark wood and a blade made of a spiraling watery looking metal that was stained in thick blood that dripped onto the floor as they stomped past my hiding spot. My heart was thundering in my ears and my suit became stifling. I shimmied out from my generator and carefully moved toward the stairs.

SNAP! CRICKLE!

The sound of glass breaking was deafening in the room’s stillness.

“THERE YOU ARE!” the voice cackled triumphantly.

I ran.

SHLING!

A swift breeze happened behind me as the generators around me exploded in showers of sparks as they were sliced in halves. I ran up the staircase, my attacker slashing at my haunches, only slicing the metal staircase I had just been.

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” I shouted, as I sprinted past the offices.

SHLING! SHLING! SHLING!

My attacker slashed and sliced at the walls separating us like the metal and wood was melting butter. My heart thundered in my ears, my lungs burned with exhaustion, but my legs kept running. I rounded a corner and sprinted up another set of catwalk stairs toward the Overseer’s office box at the top.

“YOU CAN'T RUN!” my attacker roared.

Time slowed as I slipped into S.A.T.S. I swiveled around and targeted the giant.

BLAM! BLAM!

Time corrected and the slug and incendiary shell blasted at the armored giant, only to melt across a powerful bloody red magical shield that seemingly came out of nowhere!

SHIT!

The armored giant cackled loudly, lifting their spear to slice me in two.

Ka-BOOM!

Suddenly an explosion wrapped around the back of the shield, shooting out sparks of melted shrapnel causing the shield to flicker ever so slightly. The armored giant swerved around for their attacker, I looked up and spotted Umeme standing beside the Overseer’s office holding another grenade.

“Ozzy, run!” he shouted, chucking down the antimagic grenade.

I sprinted up the catwalk as best as my legs would allow me as the grenade plummeted down. The armored giant grabbed the grenade just before it erupted in a cloud of staticy colorless smoke that quickly flooded the room.

BOOM!

The wisps of the smoke touched my hindquarters and I felt my telekinetic grip on my shotgun weakened considerably, I just barely managed to stick it into my saddle bag before my magic gave out. The armored giant writhed in anger and pain before rocketing out of the cloud and crashing through a window to the outside. I just barely made up to Umeme when the staircase collapsed behind me, falling down to the plant floor below.

“What is that damn thing?!” I panted, desperately trying to catch my breath.

“No idea, but it was big and angry-” he started before stopping gesturing to my backside, “-and you might want to check your tail.”

I looked at him confused before glancing at my backside… only to find that my suit had been sliced open so my tail was sticking out, then I noticed that my tail had been cut by at least two thirds of its original length leaving only six inches left.

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!” I screamed angrily, holding up my stubby tail, “FUCK!”

Umeme was desperately struggling to keep a straight face… and he was failing. Suddenly the room shook with a vicious screeching roar as a window exploded inward as the armored giant swooped in, its magical shield barely flickering.

“I thought you said the grenade worked on magical shielding,” I shrieked in terror.

“They should,” Umeme insisted, pulling out and chucking another frag grenade, “This way!”

Ka-BOOM!

We sprinted down a staircase and out a door into a mostly ruined hallway with peeling wallpaper and flickering fluorescent lights. These must’ve been the main offices for the power plant, but most rooms were boarded up keeping out the worst of the ash and debris. We carefully made our way down the hallway till we hit a T section, our way went straight while the other turned south. We turned the corner and reached a locked rusty door labeled by a caution sign and a soft glow seeping out from the cracks.

“We gotta go,” a voice desperately shouted from inside, “That thing’s gonna rip this place apart.”

“You make a go for that door and I’ll rip your gizzard out through your fucking throat!” another voice shouted in response, “Willow said this’ll finally break open that fucking Wall!”

“It won’t mean shit if we’re fucking dead!” the first voice shouted, “We gotta get out of here!”

Umeme handed me his rifle before he pulled out a bobby pin and his knife and got to work. The raiders on the other side continued their debating.

“I swear to your Egg, I will fucking kill you if you move for that fucking door!” the second voice shouted, “Besides ain’t nobody even knows we’re back here!”

“Ready?” Umeme asked.

I nodded, flicking off the safety.

CLICK

The lock clicked and I pushed through the door open, time slowed as I slipped into S.A.T.S. I targeted the two raiders (one griffon and one earth pony) before time continued.

BLAM! BLAM!

The bullets sliced through the air, phasing through their armor, and slicing through their flesh. The griffon’s neck exploded and he fell back onto the floor dead, but the earth pony stumbled back onto a crate, blood seeping out through the gaps in his suit on his shoulder. He tried to grab a knife but another couple of bullets killed him.

I looked around the room, it was somewhat small with a boarded up window facing east covered up by a ratty ancient Equestrian flag and a small table in the center holding up what the raiders were guarding. It was about the size of a bushel of apples, geometrically shaped, and its surface was covered with dozens of swirling patterns that seemed to twist through each other as it glowed a sickening array of almost mesmerizing colors.

As I stared at the enchanting device, I realized it was drawing me in and it took a great amount of effort to look away for something to cover it up with. Pulling down the ancient flag I threw it over the device, muting the glowing colors and swirling patterns just enough to lose the mesmerizing and stomach churning feeling.

“What is that thing?” I asked, when there was silence I glanced at my friend, “Umeme?”

He was blankly staring at the swirling lights glowing from the bundle under the flag, I shook his shoulders and shouted, “Umeme!”

“Huh, what?” he asked confusedly and looked at me like he just noticed I was there.

“I asked, ‘What is that thing?’” I repeated, gesturing to the bundle.

“That?” he asked in disbelief, “That… that is a… a megaspell.”

*** *** ***

A megaspell.

It was a FUCKING MEGASPELL!

The weapon that the Ashbourne had stolen and were apparently going to use against the Wall was the same weapon that had destroyed the world!

The same weapon that had bathed the earth in necromantic green fire two hundred years ago!

No wonder the Old Guard were so determined to get it. This thing could easily destroy the whole city for centuries if not thousands of years!

And we had to get it out of here before the Old Guard crushed this building.

“Well…” I started, carefully not staring at the swirling lights, “Can we move it?”

“I’m far more impressed that it hasn’t detonated already,” Umeme murmured to himself, “Where did they get it?”

“Umeme, we need to get this thing out of here,” I Grabbed his shoulder to shake him out of his trance, “If there are any Ashbourne left, I don’t wanna be here when they come back for this.”

Umeme nodded in agreement, helping me tie the ancient flag into a makeshift saddle bag, then I carefully wrapped my magic around the bomb. Thankfully the antimagic grenade’s effects on me were starting to wear off, though it was still somewhat tricky so Umeme helped me lift the bomb off of the table and lower it into the flag bag before he helped to tie up the loose ends so it was more secure.

Despite being smaller than my head, the bomb was very heavy and I struggled to hold myself up correctly without Umeme’s help. I took out my shotgun and managed to break it open to reload it with new slug shells. Little by little my magic was slowly returning.

We very VERY carefully made our way back to the T section and headed east, my E.F.S. telling me that the way seemed clear enough. We followed the hallway down some cracked stairs toward the middle floors. The building occasionally shook from the battle outside, which wasn’t making our struggle to keep this Celestia damned bomb from exploding with it strapped to my side!

“Shouldn’t they be done by now?” I muttered bitterly. Umeme offered a half hearted chuckle.

We slowly, carefully made our way through some more office spaces, but it was getting very tiring because so many possible exits were either blocked by rubble or forcibly barricaded shut. We were outside a door somewhere on the ground level that was welded shut with rebar and rusty steel I beams, impossible to get through without serious firepower. I was getting very frustrated, when suddenly a couple of red blips blinked onto my compass behind us. A couple Ashbourne wearing makeshift welded power armor came running around the corner, both skidding to a halt when they spotted us.

“There they are!” the leader shouted, aiming what looked like an Anti-machine rifle, a weapon designed for destroying robots and vehicles.

The second raider aimed their twin mini guns at us as they stepped closer. I lifted up my shotgun and fired a warning shot.

BLAM!

The slug slammed into the side of the mini gun raider’s helmet, breaking their makeshift spotlight and leaving a huge streak of silver lead. But the raider continued unabated, if anything I just pissed them off.

Suddenly Umeme quickly pulled out a grenade and held it up for the raiders to see, “One more step and I’ll do it!”

“Teft,” the anti-machine rifle raider ordered, “Stop!”

The mini gun raider stopped in their tracks, seemingly unsure of what to do.

“Uhh… Dude?” I hissed wearily, “What’re you doing?!”

“Just go with it?” Umeme weakly offered.

I stared at the zebra in utter disbelief, was he really planning to do what I thought?

“There’s nowhere to run, City Boys!” the mini gun raider cackled viciously, “Give us the bomb and we’ll just kill yah!”

“Fat chance!” Umeme shouted back, moving in front of me and kicking his hindhoof.

I noticed his rifle was lying on the floor behind him, I quickly focused my magic around the rifle and hid it under the bomb out of the raiders’ lines of sight.

Suddenly Umeme threw the grenade straight into the air and dove out of the way as I slipped into S.A.T.S. targeting the raiders’ heads. Time corrected and the rifle blasted a couple of shots.

BLAM! BLAM!

Blood erupted from the gaps in the mini gun raider’s helmet, coating the floor as they collapsed under the armor’s weight. The anti-machine rifle raider however was luckier, their bullet ripped through one of the straps of their battle saddle, severing their enormous rifle which clanged on the floor kicking up some dust and ash.

Before the raider could react though, Umeme had already closed distance, spun on his forehooves, and kicked up with his hindhooves, one into the raider’s chest armor and the other into their neck plates causing the raider’s helmet to fly off.

The raider stumbled backward, dazed and confused, but Umeme didn’t let up. His hooves were blurs as he targeted specific spots across the raider’s body. A forehoof in the side of the raider’s elbow breaking it, a hindhoof in the raider’s groin making a sickening snapping sound, a forehoof into the raider’s muzzle dazing them even more, before finally ending with Umeme’s knife sticking out of the raider’s eye as they collapsed on the floor, dead.

I stared at the stallion utterly mystified as he picked up his grenade and took back his rifle, “How did you do that?”

“An old Praetorian technique Q’osk taught me, he called it Fallen Caesar.”

“Can you teach me?”

“How about after we get out of here?”

Well, it wasn’t a no at least.

*** *** ***

We made our way through some service tunnels headed south, directly under the battle if the constant explosions was any indication. It was slow going because the hallways were really cramped and Umeme couldn’t help me lift the damn thing. Eventually we came across a ladder, I put the bomb down and climbed up to see if it was clear.

Pushing the cover to the side I found myself in a broken down building somewhere on the edge of Rosedale and the forest, the sounds of the battle were far off in the distance. My E.F.S. told me it seemed clear enough. I waved Umeme up, focusing my magic on the bomb, I started lifting it as he climbed up lifting it then he came through. We reattached it before heading out.

We trudged through the ashes till we finally reached sight of the power plant, it looked like the battle was mostly over with soldiers picking over dead raiders.

“There they are!” a soldier shouted and a large group ran up.

There was a flurry of questions before Captain Fafnira slithered through the crowd, “That’s enough, all of you, get back to work!”

The crowd dispersed and the Captain looked down at the bomb with a grimacing look in her eyes. Of course she knew what it was, why wouldn’t she?

She pointed the plume of her tail away from the soldiers, she waved over a couple of heavy troopers to take the bomb.

“Now,” she started, “I’m sure you two have ques-”

“You knew what it was, didn’t you?” I sharply interrupted.

The dragon glanced toward her soldiers, before finally nodding with a heavy sigh, “I had my suspicions, but I was hoping it’d be something else.”

“Something else?” I asked in disbelief as the heavy troopers strapped the bomb to their harness and turned to take it to safety, I have to admit that I was somewhat relieved to get rid of the damn thing, “What could possibly be worse than a megaspell?”

“Do you know what kinds of weapons were even developed during the Great War, Merc?” she asked in a voice that made my skin crawl slightly, “Do you have any idea what Baltimare lost during the Last Day?”

Honestly I couldn’t. I mean if the massive sky ship, that weird dragonfly transport, and the Soul of Judgement and that armored giant existed, what else could?

“There was something else, Captain,” Umeme shifted the conversation, “When we were in the plant we were attacked by a giant equine in ancient power armor.”

The Captain’s face fell, “What did he look like?”

Ka-BOOM!

Before we could answer, one of the power plant’s smoke columns exploded outward, showering the area with ancient bricks as the armored giant shot into the stormy skies.

“Oh shit,” Captain Fafnira muttered before turning to her soldiers, “BATTLE STATIONS!”

The scene was chaotic as the soldiers dashed into any nearby cover. Umeme and I followed the Captain into a hastily dug trench where Mel and her squad had taken cover.

“Get ready!” she ordered, lifting up her machine gun.

There was an ear splitting screech as the armored giant slammed into the ground, kicking up a massive cloud of ash and dirt and digging up a crater a few feet deep. As the cloud settled the armored giant slowly stood to their full height.

“OPEN FIRE!” Captain Fafnira roared.

The scene erupted into ungodly chaos as every firearm and artillery piece unleashed hell upon the armored giant. Nothing could’ve possibly survived the torrents of lead unleashed. The Captain raised a clawed hand for everyone to cease, it took a long time for the ash, debris, and dust to settle.

But when the space cleared, what I saw froze my heart.

Every individual bullet and projectile was suspended in the ashy air surrounding the armored giant, their spiraled horn alight with bloody crimson magic. Not one bullet or artillery shell had even touched the shield.

“That’s impossible,” I felt myself whisper in utter disbelief.

Suddenly the bullets and artillery shells rotated outward and shot back from where they came from. I hit the ground narrowly avoiding the hail storm of lead. Someone collapsed on top of me, pinning me down under their weight.

My heart screamed in my ears… my body screamed in pain… I wanted to scream, but my voice had vanished. In my pain it felt like an eternity before the attack finally ended. I opened my eyes and found my visor was covered in blood, obscuring my vision. I tried to wipe the blood away, (not really succeeding) but I did manage to wipe enough away to see that the bottom of the trench was covered in fresh corpses, their red blood mixing and pooling in the ash and dirt and twisted metal.

“Who's not dead?” Captain Fafnira shouted somewhere in the distance, “Sound off!”

My E.F.S. told me that only a third of the soldiers were left!

“Spitflare’s been hit!” Specialist Velour called out desperately.

“Let me help,” Umeme said, helping up a bloodied Corporal Ruhe.

“Ozzy,” Mel coughed, crawling up beside me, “You okay?”

I nodded, “What about you?” I asked, noticing the blood splattered over her gas mask.

“I’ll be fine,” she tried to reassure me, wiping off the blood, not really succeeding in either.

Mel helped me as I pushed the corpse off of me. I glanced over the top of the trench to see where our attacker was. I spotted them still standing in the crater, magic crackling from their horn.

“CHARGE!” Staff Sergeant von Roebeak shouted, charging down at the armored giant with twenty other heavy troopers, all firing off their arsenals.

The giant’s shield flickered into view as projectile after projectile slammed into the bloody red magic, only to melt and dissolve. The giant lifted their sword spear in a wide sweeping arc, slicing through some of the heavy troopers’ armors like they were wet paper! The armored corpses collapsed into the ashy dirt, their bodies dissolving into ash that floated with the wind leaving their armor as empty shells. The giant grabbed another heavy trooper by their helmet while slicing through their machine guns. The giant’s mechanical grip tightened on the helmet, cracking the visor and leaving a massive dent before throwing the trooper aside through the air into a dead tree. The giant grabbed Staff Sergeant von Roebeak by his neck with one hand and lifted him into the air.

The griffon struggled to break free, but it was useless.

“You dare call yourself Old Guard?” the giant scorned the griffon, “The gaul!”

“SAVAS!” Captain Fafnira’s voice roared over everything as she slithered out of the trench.

The giant, or Savas, looked away from the griffon to the dragon, their grip on the griffon’s neck visibly tightening aas their voice growled in barely contained hatred and rage, “FILA FELL!”

Savas grabbed one of the griffon’s legs and ripped him in half, power armor and all!

CREEEEAAAK! POP!

Blood and entrails gashed out of Staff Sergeant von Roebeak onto the ashy dirt before Savas chucked the two halves to the side. His discarded weapon shook and flew into his open hand before he charged the dragon with lightning speed.

SHLING!

The Captain dodged the fearsome blade by mere inches, her massive tail quickly slashing at Savas’ hindlegs, wrapping around to ensnare him. The giant jumped out of the way, his massive wings carrying him dozens of feet into the air. The Captain leapt the distance, grabbing at the giant, and slamming him down into the dirt.

CRASH!

Ash, dirt, and debris flew everywhere as the two godly beings fought, neither gaining the upper hoof, or rather upperhand in this case.

Someone grabbed my shoulder, a soldier handed me a machine gun and a belt of ammunition, “Don’t just stand there watching, Merc, get to shooting!”

“Wait, what about the Captain?” I sputtered.

“Her scales will protect her from far worse!” the soldier shouted back, “But she won’t last against the Soul of War!”

So it was related to the Soul of Judgement. I watched as the soldiers opened fire on Savas, only for his shield to catch and melt the projectiles. The armored giant slashed and sliced at the Captain’s scales with his sword spear, hacking away the occasional scale. She wasn’t going to last long at this rate.

I lined up my machine gun’s sights and held down the trigger, a hailstorm of bullets slammed into the magical shield, doing nothing. Suddenly a heavy trooper aimed their howitzer and fired a shell.

Ka-BOOM!

A direct hit, but the shield was only flickering!

As Savas whirled around the Captain’s attacks I noticed a panel on his back that was emitting a hard red glow. Time slowed as I slipped into S.A.T.S., targeting the vent through the flickering shield.

BRRRRRRRRR!

Time corrected and the bullet burst went flying, most hitting their mark causing a shower of red sparks to shoot out and the shield to shatter.

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!” Savas roared in sudden pain, buckling over.

The Captain took the opportunity to land a hard hit, claws slashing into the giant’s armor, leaving massive dents and scratches. Her tail wrapped around his head and slammed him over a hundred feet up into the air. Her mouth opened and a flood of golden fire erupted, burying the giant as he slammed into the ground.

When the flames died out, the Captain slithered up laughing loudly, “You’ve lost your edge, Savas! Even Priscilla could defeat you now!”

“Priscilla?” I muttered to myself, wait… there were more of these fucking things?!

“Time to die!” The Captain opened her mouth, fire bubbling up in her throat.

Ka-BOOM!

Suddenly a cloud of black smoke exploded in the dragon’s mouth, sending her stumbling backward. The Soul of War stood, a smoking howitzer in his mechanical hands like a rifle. His armor was smoking and his skirt had burned away revealing a lining of yellow dragon scales. He picked up his sword spear and lifted it into the air.The soldiers opened fire again, but suddenly a massive wave of crimson magic erupted from the armored giant, throwing everyone back dozens of feet.

I landed hard and momentum rolled me a few feet before slamming into a dead tree. I staggered to my hooves and looked around, soldiers were scattered all around, some moving, others not. Where was the Captain? I whirled around to the battle scene, Savas was lifting his sword spear into the air.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ-PANG!

Suddenly a massive bolt of bloody red lightning shot down from the heavens, striking the armored giant. His sword spear erupted into a magnificent lightning storm, blood red bolts lashing out across the ground. Savas lined up his weapon before catapulting it at the Captain. The blade slicing into her shoulder, pinning her to a dead tree, and spraying her blood across the ground.

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!” The dragon screamed out in pain as the armored giant walked closer, lifting his armored mechanical hands to the dragon.

“Fafnira… my have you grown strong,” the giant savored her name with a deeply sickening pleasure, “I should have killed you when you were still an egg!”

“Orion wouldn’t have given you the chance,” the Captain bitterly spat back.

Orion, like Doctor Orion? As in Orion Solutions? Did they mean the stallion from my strange dreams? How would they know about him?

The giant laughed cruelly, sadistically tracing a mechanical finger along her feathered head crest, “We both know that phantom can’t protect you now.”

The giant grabbed his sword spear and slashed it through the dragon’s chest. The Captain dropped to the ground, her blood pooling around her still body.

“Time to die, Fafnira,” the Soul of War declared, raising his sword spear high.

The dragon weakly tried to move, but her claws only dug at the dirt.

“CAPTAIN!” A soldier cried out, opening fire on the armored giant.

Bullets sliced through the ashy air, the Soul of War’s horn glowed a cloud of bloody red magic, but just as the scene reached its crescendo… an eerie cold stillness that felt very similar to when I slipped into S.A.T.S. washed over the scene. Time slowed to a crawl before finally it was frozen, even the ashes on the wind.

Suddenly a bright flash of silvering golden fire disc erupted out of thin air and a unicorn stallion stepped out. His long white mane flowed behind him in an invisible breeze and blended in with his white coat and uniform under his dark blue overcoat like the Beloved Daughter and the Vigilant Son. But his face was obscured by a modified black doctor’s bird mask.

I wanted to hide… I wanted to run... but instead I felt myself frozen in a mixture of curiosity and confusion of this stallion.

The stallion knelt beside Captain Fafnira, calmly placing his hoof upon the dragon’s forehead. A small device in his forehead beside his horn started glowing a soft pink magic that reminded me of the gentle morning sun I’d seen when I’d left Stable Fifty-Two, Goddesses that felt so long ago. A small device about the size of a flip lighter floated out from his overcoat flicking it on, a small ghostly ball of blue fire drifted up from the dragon’s mouth and into the device.

The stallion flicked it closed and his hoof caressed the side of Fafnira’s face, “Rest now, my old friend,” the stallion’s deeply remorseful voice echoed throughout the stillness, “For your long faithful service shall not go unrewarded.”

“Faithful service?” I muttered very confused.

The stallion stood and turned to leave, but stopped when he seemed to notice me. I know that my word might not mean much compared to the Lightbringer herself, but I swear upon my life that the look in his glowing pink purple eyes was that of recognition.

I had a thousand questions each with a thousand of their own, “Who are you?”

But just as quickly he turned away and left in another eruption disc of silvering golden fire. Time corrected and the battle resumed as if nothing had possibly happened.

“Ozzy, get down!” someone shouted at me, pushing me into the ashy dirt.

I glanced up and saw Mel pinning me down. The bullets sliced into the armored giant before a thunderous roar erupted from the Soul of War as he bolted into the sky and flew away toward the north.

“Let him go!” a soldier shouted.

The Captain was still where she had fallen, her eyes were closed. The soldiers surrounded the dragon as Specialist Velour knelt and checked her over. There was a deafening silence that stretched from seconds to minutes before the medic remorsefully announced, “She’s… she’s dead.”

*** *** ***

The whole base stood in formation saluting the Captain as she was loaded into an air vehicle. Colonel Basken explained that she was to be taken to the Seven Sisters for cremation there as was an ancient dragon tradition. Seemingly to add to the collective sorrow it was drizzling, after the time in The Ashes’ constant sweltering heat the coldness of the North Shore felt more welcoming. Umeme and I stood with the Colonel, but we didn’t have to salute because we weren’t Old Guard.

“Soldiers, attention!” the Colonel shouted, “Baltimare Eternal.”

Every soldier lowered their hooves and hands and repeated, “Baltimare Eternal!”

The Colonel turned to Umeme and me, “I wanted to reward you two, come with me.”

“I’ll go,” Umeme said, placing a hoof on my shoulder, “ Go rest up, I’ll find you later.”

I could only nod. I wandered around the base before turning up at the bar in the canteen, soldiers around me celebrating their late Captain’s victories.

“I heard she fought alongside the Good Father during the First Emergence War,” one soldier declared, holding up their mug, “Roasting half a thousand of those filthy Steel Rangers!”

“You know that’s just a story, Knit,” another soldier abashed him.

“Well, I heard she fought the Soul of War before!” a third soldier said.

“That was her father,” a fourth soldier corrected, “the Captain wasn’t even ninety yet!”

“I remember when the Captain joined the Wall,” a ghoul soldier near me laughed, “she couldn’t have been much bigger than a manticore back then.”

I stared down at my Sunrise Sarsaparilla and an Islander alcoholic drink called Kraken Rum. I was enjoying it when Mel and her squad came by to congratulate me for finding the megaspell. Specialist Velour offered me a small medical manual called Paper Cuts to Broken Bones. I thanked her and put it in my saddle bag for later.

“So, are you still heading west after that mare?” Mel asked, a little drunk.

“Well yeah, Umeme and I are headed for The Fringe, then we’re off to Haagenheim, what about you?”

“We’re getting a couple replacements for Softshell, Dragher, and Spitflare… oh and Ruhe is going to be promoted to Sergeant.”

“Oh, congrats,” I offered to the stallion, he thanked me and continued drinking.

There was a silence before the squad got up to leave, Mel turned to me and quickly said, “Hey, thanks again for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome,” I responded, “And I hope you get to see your brother again someday.”

The griffon blushed slightly before quickly pecking my lips with a kiss and hurrying off to join her squad, “I hope to see you again too.”

I smiled at the warm moment before going back to my drink, after two or three Umeme sat down next to me, “Hey, Ozzy.”

He offered a small bag full of bucks, along with a circular bronze badge which featured the Old Guard’s logo on it, “The Colonel came through with our reward, ten thousand bucks for the megaspell and he suggested going through Pylon Eleven down in New Mondawmin.”

“Tell me, Umeme,” I asked looking over the badge, flicking it around in my magic, “Did we do enough?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, sipping his drink.

I put the badge in my saddle bag and stared into my drink, “Could we have saved her?”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Ozzy,” Umeme murmured, wrapping a foreleg around my shoulders.

Visions of the strange stallion taking the Captain’s soul away formed in my drunken mind, the way he looked at me. Was he related to the Beloved Daughter? Why would he take Captain Fafnira’s soul? Why would he recognise me of all possible people? Should I tell Umeme? Would he even believe me?

“I don’t know.”

“My Father offered me some advice after my mother died,” the stallion leaned a little closer, “We can not choose when or where Hecate’s sword cuts our threads, but we can choose how to greet the Raven of Death and Rebirth.”

I looked up at him and blinked a couple of times, “W-what?”

“The point is if death is a guarantee why worry about how you die.”

“That still doesn’t make any sense,” I teased.

“Never mind.”

“Hey, Umeme,” I said after a while, “Why’re you coming with me?”

The stallion muttered something under his breath, “You saved my life from the Soul of Judgement and again with the manticore, I intend to repay that debt.”

“You don’t -HICK- have to do that,” I slurred slightly, “Let’s just say we’re even.”

“No, our debt is not even,” he firmly said, “Besides I consider you… a friend.”

I felt my heart lift slightly at his words, this handsome dashing stallion considered someone like me a friend. I felt myself lean closer to the stallion and before he could react I pressed my lips against his. My hooves caressed his chest and arms as my tongue brushed against his teeth. But he quickly pushed me away and his hoof struck across my jaw.

In my drunken state I ended up on the floor looking up at him. He had anger in his eyes as he brushed his mouth against his sleeve.

“You fucking filius canis!” he shouted angrily before storming off, leaving me there.

I felt my heart sink as the pain in my jaw grew.

Dammit.

Did I mention I’m an idiot?

Level Up: Medical Training (level one): You’ve received training from an experienced source, your outgoing healing spells are improved by 20%.

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine
“Let’s see just how much promise you really have…”

Did I mention I’m an idiot?

My first crush was when I was just starting out as a gunsmith, his name was Honey Bread, he was an older stallion who worked in the Kitchens back home. He’d always sneak me extra food in my rations, a bread roll here, a few extra apple slices there, he was always so nice to me. My crush started small but it quickly grew and grew till I told my Grandparents.

They weren’t very supportive, mostly because Honey was much older. I know they meant well, but I’ve always had the feeling that they were uncomfortable with me liking a stallion. My crush for Honey dwindled into more of a sense of admiration, but a new crush would replace it when Cobalt admitted her affection for me.

I had always wondered why Celestia and Luna chose me to be equally attracted to both stallions and mares. What did I do to them to be the butt of their confusing joke? I fought myself over it for many years before I finally understood that it wasn’t the Goddesses’ fault, in fact I couldn’t blame anyone for it. I slowly started accepting myself for who I was, despite the problems it caused me back home. Cobalt didn’t really like that I was the way I was, but she did silently tolerate it.

Tolerated, but not accepted.

Honestly I felt like shit for what I did to Umeme, I should’ve known better than to force him. Obviously he didn’t feel the same way because he preferred mares, or maybe he preferred other zebras? Either way, I shouldn’t have pressed him like I did. And now debt or not, he definitely didn’t want to come with me.

And I couldn’t blame him.

I rubbed my jaw and muttered, “Still hurts.”

I couldn’t sleep that night, so I spent the hours repairing and cleaning my guns. The Ashes hadn’t been gentle to my revolver or shotgun, but again Light was somehow fine after a light dusting. The revolver took me a lot longer, ash was stuck in every damn crevice and spring, the mainspring was severely rusted, but by the end I had cleaned the heat stained metal parts enough to reveal a brass engraving of oak leaves between the cylinder’s chambers and along the barrel. I put the revolver to the side and moved on to the shotgun.

As I disassembled the shotgun’s mechanism I was surprised to see just how many parts looked hoof-made: the interceptor sear and spring, the bigger half of the cocking limb, the bridle, and the mainspring were all expertly hoof-fitted. I was very impressed at the engineering but slightly apprehensive, if any of those parts broke it would be hard to replace them since I couldn’t hoof-fit with my minimal tool kit. I refocused on cleaning away the ash and dust. It took most of the night, but when I was done the receiver’s metal bits revealed a breathtaking heat stain that complimented the dark wood.

When I was done the sun was starting to rise and my guns were radiant in the early dawn light. I packed up my gear and checked my map for directions. New Mondawmin was south and west of The Heights and according to a soldier was the old zebra district before the Last Day. Apparently roughly thirty-five percent of the old city’s population were zebras or were of zebra descent, hence why there were so many zebras in Baltimare today.

*** *** ***

Bird songs sparkled in the morning ambiance as I slowly walked down the broken overgrown street. As the hours dragged on I stumbled across a few mildly interesting sights, a billboard that once advertised a brand of cigarettes with a jazz musician playing a saxophone outlined by a large blue moon called Blue Note and a small park with overgrown grass and weeds, at the center was a small rusty statue of a pony colt offering a small silver flower to a bashful zebra filly.

The sorrow in my gut grew slightly.

I was alone.

But perhaps it was for the best?

“I’m hopeless,” I muttered to myself.

Suddenly I got this creeping feeling that I was being followed, fearing it was the Beloved Daughter or even the Soul of War I whipped around on the spot pulling out my shotgun…

And saw nothing but the overgrown street I’d come from.

“Just hearing things,” I sighed, holstering my weapon.

“Thought you could just leave me behind, did you?” Umeme’s voice suddenly asked behind me.

I would’ve been halfway to the fucking moon if Umeme hadn’t grabbed ahold of my stubby tail to keep me from running in surprise. Once I had calmed down enough I sheepishly glanced at the stallion’s forehooves, not wanting to look him in his eyes.

“I… uh… figured… I mean after your… uh reaction last night,” I started sheepishly, cheeks flushing with embarrassment, fuck I wanted to avoid having this conversation, “That maybe you… uh… wouldn’t want to-”

“Ozzy, just stop,” the stallion interrupted, holding up his hoof for me to stop, “I’m not mad at you.”

Anything that I was about to say lumped up in my throat and my heart lifted slightly at his words. He wasn’t mad? After what I did, why wasn’t he mad?

I looked up at him, he raised a hoof to rub the back of his neck awkwardly, “If anything I should be the one apologizing for striking you.”

“I…,” I couldn’t really think of anything to say that didn’t sound really dumb.

“It’s just that…,” the stallion continued, “Such relationships are… complicated among the Roamani.”

Was he really trying to comfort me?

“Hey, if you don’t swing my way that’s alright,” I tried to reassure him, “I promise not to try anything else.”

There was a very long super awkward pause before he spoke again, “It’s not that simple, Ozzy.”

“What do you mean? Either you’re attracted to me or you’re not. Seems pretty simple to me.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he reiterated, blushing a deep crimson, “I was telling the truth that I feel like I can rely on you, and I intend to pay back my debt.”

“Look I said we’re-” I started but stopped, he was dead set on the subject, “Okay, if you insist.”

“Well, good,” he responded, before reaching into a saddle bag, “And here, you forgot your half of the bucks.”

“Oh, right,” I forced myself to say, I’d left the bag behind for him… as a half assed way of apologizing, “Silly me.”

*** *** ***

It was late in the afternoon when we reached the border checkpoint of The Heights and New Mondawmin. It was built in the middle of a couple hundred foot long marble bridge connecting the banks of a wide river with sparse sandbar islands offering ground for crawdads swimming around in the flowing current. The checkpoint was made up of two sheet metal buildings with flags fluttering in the breeze on either side of the bridge with a high metal wall with a gate spread between, blocking the road.

“What now?” I whispered, nervously.

“Just follow my lead,” Umeme whispered back.

A number of soldiers were standing guard and they watched us as we approached the soldier in front of the gate. He was a zebra with twisted, convoluted, corn yellow colored stripes like Ophia, his Old Guard uniform had a white shawl crossing over his chest and thrown over his left shoulder, a curved knife in a gray snakeskin sheath tied to his belt, and a cybernetic forehoof shaped into a black griffon’s claw.

“Checkpoint’s closed for the night,” he said dryly, “You’ll have to come back in the morning.”

“Salve, Sir,” Umeme greeted the soldier friendly, “Am I glad to see you.”

“And why is that?” the soldier’s tune darkened, clearly not caring.

“A caring heart?” Umeme asked rhetorically, pulling out his knife for the soldier to see, “I’m with the Legion of Outcasts and my Rosa, Ophia Fila Aonitus, died in battle recently, I promised her that I’d bring her knife to her father.”

I looked at my friend very impressed, where did this acting skill come from?

The soldier looked down at the knife for a long silence before silently reaching under his armor, pulling out a key, turning, and unlocking the small door in the gate, “General Aonitus saved my life during the Siege of Barenstein,”-he looked down at his mechanical hoof-fist, flexing the fingers-“We were all saddened when Ophia was banished. It’s good to know she made it down to you.”

“What’s your name, soldier?” Umeme asked, holstering his knife.

“Second Lieutenant Oskar.”

Umeme patted his shoulder, “You take care of yourself, Lieutenant.”

When we were a good distance away I leaned close to Umeme and whispered, “That was some good acting.”

“Every good lie has a nugget of truth in them,” he chuckled.

“Wait…” I glanced back to the checkpoint, “then….”

“Ophia told me about how her father campaigned in Buhrvaria against the Buhrlin Republik in the Baltimare-Buhrlin War about seven years ago. She told me that he killed their leader Führer Adalwolffe Hurenfluch at the Siege of Barenstein.”

“What did Buhrlin do?” I asked, trying to figure out why Baltimare would attack another country so far away.

“According to Corporal Ruhe, the Buhrliners believe themselves to be the only pure race left because they came from one of those stables and everyone else deserves to be enslaved for labor or to be slaughtered.”

I gawked in disgust at the thought, slavery already greatly disgusted me, but the concept of superiority based on something like what group you were born into felt so ridiculously stupid I wanted to vomit. Then I felt a sick twinge of guilt remembering home.

*** *** ***

As we walked down the overgrown cobblestone streets I looked around at the buildings. New Mondawmin’s architecture was very distinctive compared to The Heights. Most of the buildings were made from cracking and crumbling light gray marble or granite revealing their weathered wood and rusty steel framing. Many had columns and arches and other features that blended with modern electrical and plumbing services under the thick covering of greenery and trees.

I noticed a couple of marble statues cleared of greenery surrounded by five fluted columns. The statues showed a zebra kneeling before a pegasus, who I recognized as Flash Magnus. The zebra was wearing a suit of armor made from small rusty bronze scales, a long flowing cape, and had a long sword spear like the one used by the Soul of War.

I stepped closer to the plaque and read,

Here on this hill, two thousand years ago, Orthius of Elysium swore loyalty to Flash Magnus of Cloudsdale in his quest to kill the Eternal dragon, Bahamut, and the defense of Baltimare against his dragon horde for over forty years before his heroic sacrifice to kill the Eternal dragon, Viinturuth, at the Battle of Seaward Shoals.

May he walk the Golden Walls.

Dedicated to the city by Lord Khronos

A zebra stallion called Orthius had sworn loyalty to the dragon hunter Flash Magnus and fought the dragon horde at his side for decades before he died to kill an ancient dragon.

I thought about how that was possible, Saluem had said that zebras had first set hoof on the Equestrian continent roughly twelve hundred years ago, but this memorial claimed that a zebra warrior was involved with the dragon hunter army that would become the Old Guard over twenty-two hundred years ago. That was almost a thousand years of difference.

Was Saluem wrong? Or was this memorial wrong?

“Ozzy?” Umeme pulled me out of my train of thought, “Are you alright?”

“I… yeah,” I said, turning away from the statues.

*** *** ***

It was in the evening when we reached a town that my map called Rhebun-El. We showed our papers to the gate guards and were let in. A number of zebras with a range of colored stripes walked about doing their daily business, there were even a few ponies and griffons in the mix too, shopkeepers and merchants were selling their goods to the crowds. As we walked through the town I noticed that every sign was written in two or more languages, Ponish and one of what Umeme told me were the six main zebra languages: Roamani, the three main Atoli Dialects, Sahaani, or Starkatteri.

We stopped at a marble building with a couple of floors and a large sign hanging above the door that read, Hospitium, below that was a smaller sign that said, Vacante. The entry room had floor and wall tiles that were painted with rich, vibrant colors that reflected the hanging ceiling lights. At the end of the room was a small wooden desk with a large book and a shelf of keys beside an open door leading to a small courtyard with a tall branching oak tree behind it.

“Salve?” Umeme asked, stepping up to the desk and ringing a small bell, “Are you open?”

“I’ll be right with you,” a voice called out from the courtyard.

There was a loud crashing sound followed by some cursing before a zebra mare with blue stripes on an incredibly fluffy coat and an apron that was stained in a rainbow spectrum of colored paints.

“What was that sound?” I asked.

Just then, a pegasus worker wearing the gray jumpsuit and blinking collar stumbled past the doorway, but what was distressing was the word ENCLAVE literally carved into his face so deeply that I saw bits of his skull poking out and his wings were surgically mutilated leaving them as useless stumpy limbs. I felt a cold shiver run up my spine as he glanced at me with glazed over brown eyes.

“Oh it’s nothing,” the mare muttered, brushing the question aside, “Just can’t find any good help these days.”

She opened the book to a page filled with thousands of names, she picked up a small pencil, “What’re your names and how long are you staying?”

“Umeme and Ozzy,” Umeme answered, “Just for the night.”

“That’ll be sixty bucks,” the mare said, reaching behind her to pluck up a key to give us when we paid, “Room Two-Seven. And there might be some leftovers from dinner if you’re hungry.”

My stomach growled loudly, earning a laugh from the mare.

The courtyard had a number of rooms with a set of stairs connecting the two floors. A number of patrons were relaxing and enjoying the evening under the large tree. We climbed the stairs to the second floor, I glanced back at the Enclave worker who had picked up a mop and bucket and was slowly stumbling back into a side room on the courtyard’s first floor.

Our room was set in the courtyard’s back corner behind the tree. Opening the door, I flicked on the light and we stopped when we saw that the room had a single double bed in the center below a small window in the wall letting in the cold breeze.

“I can sleep on the floor,” I offered awkwardly, remembering yesterday’s events.

“It’s alright,” the stallion murmured, “Just stay on your side of the bed.”

“Okay,” I squeaked, “I’ll try not to touch you in my sleep.”

We undressed, putting our gear to the side on the floor, and left the room to get a late dinner. The kitchen was in a bigger side room on the street side of the first floor, a couple of coal burning stoves and pots and pans were being cleaned by some workers (these ones weren’t Enclave). The head chef was a Swampfolk stallion with lumpy limbs with large healed surgical scars running from his bulging shirt up his neck to the back of his head. His balding blue mane was tied up into a topknot and his scarred face was greasy and he rolled a lit cigar in his sparse stained teeth.

“Whatchas be wanning?” The stallion barked when he noticed us, “Ki’chen’s closed till morning.”

“We were told there’d be leftovers,” Umeme calmly responded.

“Fine,” the chef gestured to a couple of large soup pots on a countertop, “Bowls and spoons in dat cabinet, ten bucks a bowl.”

We paid and went out to the tree to eat the cold stew of soggy potatoes and carrots. It tasted terrible, but it silenced my growling stomach at least.

After we finished up we went back to our room and got ready for bed, I took off my eyepatch and placed it with my gear, Umeme flicked off the light, and slid under the covers beside me. I focused my magic on the window shutters and closed them as much as possible. We laid there in the near darkness for a long time and I was finding it hard to sleep when the silence was broken.

“Do you really find me attractive?” Umeme asked, his voice seemed a little hesitant.

I nodded like he had asked if the sky was covered in stormy clouds, it felt beyond fucking obvious that the stallion had a certain rugged charm that I liked. He scratched under his chin and made a face that said he’d never really considered it before.

“You’ve never been with a stallion?” I found that a little hard to believe.

“Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?” I sat up, “Is it illegal?”

“No…” He rolled over to face me better, “Such relationships, platonic, romantic, or purely sexual, are considered to be natural and even beneficial for young zebras to mature. All tribes have their own outlooks, but for Roamani… we view these things as a display of social power. The one who gives is in more of a… dominant position than the one who receives.”

“Wait,” I interrupted, holding up my hooves, “You’re saying that when I kissed you… I was actually raping you?”

I felt my heart plummet and my skin went clammy at the horrifying thought of molesting or even raping the handsome stallion. Images of the kids I had saved from the Foalbanks flashed in my mind.

I felt like I was about to vomit up the cold stew.

“No, no, I wouldn’t go that far,” he clarified, my shoulders lifted in slight relief, “Because you were the one who gave the kiss, you were the dominant one in the act.”

“So… the problem isn’t that we kissed, it’s that I was the one who started it?” That didn’t make much sense.

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” he said, rolling away from me.

What? Zebra relationships were weird, I facehoofed and laid back down to go to sleep.

“But I don’t think you’re bad looking,” Umeme quietly murmured.

I couldn’t help but smile.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

There were soft rhythmic sounds that slowly drifted and out of my focus, electronic beeping, fan blades slowly spinning, hooves typing on a keyboard.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” a feminine voice with the same accent as the Beloved Daughter stated frustrated, “How is he growing this quickly?”

Something was typed into a computer before some paper was torn and there was a heavy sigh, “I can’t say, Ma’am,” a second voice responded, “But so much growth in just a month suggests-”

“No, it’s impossible!” the first voice almost shouted, slamming something on a surface, “He wouldn’t have!”

What were they talking about?

“Look at… Ma’am,” the voice shot back, equally frustrated, slamming a hoof on the keyboard, “Three fragments… twenty-eight days, the others couldn’t… twice that… not even Anaita.”

“But I know Him,” the first voice repeated stubbornly, venom lacing her words, “He’d never… not with Her.”

“It takes a strong mind to deny what’s in front of your eyes-”

“Stay your tongue!” the first voice shouted angrily, there was a very long silence before starting again, “None of this leaves this room, Doctor.”

“Yes, Ma’am. You can trust me.”

“I know I can, Doctor-” kla-click BANG! “-Now, let’s see just how much promise you really have, Ozymandias.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

I bolted upright in a cold sweat, lungs burning as I panted for air, my body tingling as reality slowly re-established itself. Soft pink early morning light was drifting in from between the window shutters. Umeme was missing but his gear was where he’d left it.

I looked down at my hooves, a thousand questions whirled through my mind. Who were the voices? What were they fighting about? What did they mean by fragments? How did they know my name?

As I slowly tempered each question I came to one undeniable conclusion.

Whoever that first voice was… whatever they wanted… however they knew about me… they were watching me now.

And I didn’t like that idea.

*** *** ***

Umeme and I stopped at a small street side restaurant across from the hotel for a breakfast of omelets made from chicken eggs, goat cheese, and spinach. After the cold watery stew last night, this omelet tasted heavenly.

A small band was setting up to entertain the gathering crowds. After they checked their instruments the drummer started with a single rhythmic beat for a few seconds before the bassist joined in with a swooping jazzy beat for about half a minute before the singer started singing in Roamani,

“Estne Color in tuis genis?
Umquamne mirum timorem sentis
Qui diu manet tamquam res in dentibus?
Mirane et apta excogitare vales?
Num nescis te omnino in re esse?
De te singulis noctibus nuper somniavi
Quot secreta tibi sevare potes?
Nam ecce melodia quam inveni
Quae facit ut in mente mea maneas
Donec tandem obdormio, fundens potiones supra lectulum”

The bassist joined in with Ponish,

“(Do I wanna know?)
An tu me qouque ames?
(Sad to see you go)
Sperabam te mansuram
(Baby, we both know)
Noctes praecipue exstare ut dicamus quae non poterimus cras mane”

“Crawling back to you
Umquamne me vocare voluisti post potiones quasdam?
Nam ego semper volo
Fortasse nimis mihi placet
Esse tantum tuus
Quam ut alteram amen
Rem bene deliberavi iam
Crawling back to you”

The singer grabbed the microphone and held it close,

“Visne igitur audere?
Estne apertum tum cor
Scire velim quando claudatur
Animum tempera et para labra
Ignosce mihi quot tua intermitto
Est tantum quod iugiter te osculari volo
Nescio an tu idem sentias quam ego
Sed una esse possimus si tu velis quoque”

“(Do I wanna know?) An tu me qouque ames?
(Sad to see you go) Sperabam te mansuram
(Baby, we both know) Noctes praecipue exstare ut dicamus quae non poterimus cras mane”

“(Do I wanna know?) An tu me qouque ames?
(Sad to see you go) Sperabam te mansuram
(Baby, we both know) Noctes praecipue exstare ut dicamus quae non poterimus cras mane
(Do I wanna know?) Fortasse nimis placet
(Sad to see you go) Umquamne me vocare voluisti
(Do I wanna know?) Visne ut reptem denou ad te?”

As the song ended the crowd clapped their hooves or hands in applause as the band started another song. Umeme reached into a saddle bag and pulled out a small envelope of tan paper, he opened it up and poured a purple colored powder into his coffee.

“What’s that?” I asked, curiously.

“Medicine,” he flatly responded, mixing the powder into the drink, “I sometimes get distracting headaches so Saluem made me a recipe to help dull the pain.”

“What’s in it?” I asked, sniffing at the envelope, it smelled a tiny bit like raspberries and cinnamon.

“Just some herbs I can find around the North Shore, nothing crazy,” he downed his coffee and suddenly slammed his head against the table, dropping the mug to crack on the cobblestones.

“Shit,” I stood up and came around to his side, helping him up, “You okay?”

“Just… need a… moment,” he wheezed, rubbing his head, “I… yeah, I’m fine now.”

“What was that?” I pulled my chair around, “An allergic reaction?”

“No,” Umeme breathed, “It just tastes awful.”

Must’ve been really awful for him to slam his head into a table. We paid for breakfast and the broken cup before heading out.

*** *** ***

It was around noon when we reached a large oddly shaped hill covered in vegetation, dozens of strange looking trees that were made out of a strange oily black glass instead of bark and wide bloody red leaves and vines on the drooping branches, and the occasional oily black rock jutting out. An oddly shaped street wrapped around the hill’s base and connected with the state’s two main trade roads, the Fosse Road going north to south and Deere Street going east to west. On top of the hill was a ring of tall columns and pillars with a long set of stairs winding down around the hill.

My PipBuck pinged, my map had labeled this place as Dezaakir’s Rest.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“Something I was hoping to do,” Umeme mumbled, climbing the stairs.

After a moment of confusion I silently followed.

When we were finally at the top I stopped to catch my breath. Collapsing down on the cold stone step, I looked out over the overgrown ruins of the state… I could see for miles and miles around, there were occasional smoke columns trailing up into the dark gray cloud cover high above, marking either towns or maybe outposts or something.

It all looked beautiful. Almost worth the thousand step climb.

KLA-CLICK!

“Hold there,” a stallion’s voice said behind me, “You two aren’t desired here.”

I slowly looked over my shoulder and found a pair of zebras, a stallion and a mare, both wearing plain looking wine red hooded robes with matching silver chain necklaces. The mare was holding up a zebra pistol in a cloud of purple magic emanating from her stubby horn and the stallion had a medium sized wild looking dog with splotchy black spots on a ginger red base and large pointed ears that snarled at us, yellow teeth bared.

“This is hallowed ground, state the reasons for your meddling!” The mare sternly ordered us.

“My name is Ama- Umeme… formerly of the Legion of Outcasts,” Umeme said with a calm tone, “I wish to pay my respects.”

Pay his respects? What was he saying?

The zebras exchanged looks before the stallion said, “Pay them quickly then, but say nothing to the Acolytes, they are in Study.”

The way he said Study implied it was important.

I noticed a very large willow tree covered in oily black glass bark sitting in the center surrounded by three more rings of columns and pillars with the outermost ring having thirteen animal shaped pedestals set up like a clock. Ten more zebras in similar robes surrounded the tree under its long drooping branches and bloody red leaves and vines.

Umeme thanked the zebras and slowly walked toward the large tree, I got up to follow.

“Not you!” the mare harshly snapped, blocking my way and pointing the pistol’s muzzle into my face, “You are not permitted!”

“Wh-what?” I asked, stepping back a few steps.

“I apologize,” the stallion clarified, “What Sister Eloisa means to say is that non-followers are not permitted near the tree’s inner two rings.”

“Non-followers?” I asked, confused, “I thought it was illegal to discriminate in Baltimare.”

“Do you follow the Spirits?” the stallion asked, I shook my head, “Then, by the laws of our faith, you are not permitted within the tree’s inner rings.”

“So it’s not because I’m a pony?” This still felt like discrimination to me.

The stallion reached up and pulled down his hood, revealing pale blue stripes on his face that loosely resembled the elliptical orbital paths of planets that complimented against his pale orange coat.

He was a pony/zebra hybrid.

You know I needed to find a good word for that, but I hadn’t really thought of one that didn’t seem a little bit insulting. Like Zony felt too much like zombie-pony for my liking.

“If being a pony mattered,” he said calmly, “My parents would not have been wed.”

“S-sorry,” I sheepishly apologized, my hoof rubbing the back of my foreleg awkwardly.

“It is no worry,” the stallion replied, pulling up his hood, “You may stay, read the pedestals, gain a better understanding of our faith.”

“But stay away from the tree,” I finished, the stallion nodded.

I followed him to the pedestal ring, each pedestal was about two feet tall and each had a small foot tall statue made of the same oily black glass as the tree. We started at the twelve o’clock position and went clockwise, first wasthe Achu’s lion god of defense, Taerus, second the Atoli’s wolf goddess of trade, Turs-Alo, third the Zencori’s spider god of storytelling, Anansi, fourth the Roamani’s two headed minotaur god of order and chaos, Gurzil, fifth the Mendi’s winged feathered snake god of healing, Patecatl, sixth the Propoli’s gorilla goddess of construction, Datia, seventh the Eschatik’s falcon goddess of philosophy, Otix, eighth the Sahaani’s bear goddess of art, Paeyus, ninth the Tappahani’s hyena god of festivities, Qrurris, tenth the Logos’ owl goddess of the written word, Hoosen, eleventh the Carnilia’s rabbit goddess of agriculture and fertility, Ala, twelfth the Orah’s jaguar god of hunting, Ah Tabai, and finally the Starkatteri’s raven goddess of death and rebirth, Hecate.

Each pedestal faced away from the tree and were decorated to best fit their individual purposes. I looked up at the tree, its red crystalline leaves rustled in the breeze like wind chimes.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s an Ordu tree,” the stallion answered, “They’re a symbol of unity across all zebrakind in the Old Empire.”

“Unity how?” I asked, looking at the stallion.

“It's said that when the First Caesar banded the twelve plus one together to find a new home it was done under the leaves of the first Ordu tree.”

“I’ve never seen one before,” I quietly said, looking back at the tree, “It has a certain beauty.”

“You can only find them where Eternal dragons were slain,” the stallion explained, reaching up and touching a leaf with reverence.

“I’ve heard that term a lot, Eternal dragon, but what makes them unique?” I asked in confusion.

“Eternal dragons are said to have been the first dragons. The children of the sky father, Caelus, and the earth mother, Terra, when this world formed. They were covered in a skin of living black rock which gave them protection from death itself.”

“But after the hero Flash Magnus famously killed Bahamut, it’s said that the surviving Eternal dragons were hunted down until there were perhaps just a dozen left, scattered across the furthest wild reaches of the world.”

“So to prevent their extinction they gave birth to modern dragonkind: drakes, wyverns, wyrms, hydras, and basilisks.”

“What’s a basilisk?” I asked.

The stallion grimaced, “A relative of dragons native to the southern deserts between Equestria and the Old Empire. They’re like hydras, but with dozens of tails instead of heads. They have lost their intelligence and are now little more than wild animals driven by instinct.”

“Creepy,” I grimaced, “So, what’s an Ordu?”

The stallion looked up to the tree before starting, “Ordu was an Eternal dragon that led her own dragon horde that drove Elysium into its destruction, the earth became hungry, the water dried up, volcanoes erupted with lava and ash that blocked out the sun itself.”

“It’s said that a legendary hero called Zhandris led the twelve plus one against Ordu in a last ditch effort to save their crumbling homeland. It’s said that the fighting was apocalyptic in its savagery… for every dragon killed the legions lost three scores of their own.”

I thought about that, Saluem had told me about Elysium and how it was destroyed. She hadn’t mentioned it was caused by dragons, but upon thinking about it I supposed it made more sense.

“When the war was won Zhandris had sacrificed himself to kill Ordu by splitting open her stone scales with the power of Caelus, driving his sword spear deep into her heart. Ancient magic poured out saturating the battlefield and Ordu trees sprouted as a monument to the war-”

So Ordu trees come from Eternal dragons? I ran over the thought as the stallion continued his tale.

“-but that’s mostly conjecture. Anyway it’s said that Dezaakir had attacked Baltimare during the later years of the Great War and she-”

“Wait,” I said, snapping back to the conversation, “We’re standing on a dragon?”

“Yes, weren’t you listening?” the stallion asked sternly, “Where do you think the Wall of Baltimare came from?”

“Ready to go?” Umeme asked.

I nodded and we headed back down the hill’s winding path before starting west down Deere Street. As we left I looked back at the shrine hill and noticed it did vaguely look like a massive dragon skull.

If you squinted and tilted your head to the side.

*** *** ***

The cloudy sky was darkening into the evening hours when we reached sight of Pylon Eleven, the neighborhood had transitioned into buildings that looked more like ones in The Heights. The base was nearly three times as big as Pylon Twenty-Eight and made out of the remains of dozens of buildings across three whole city blocks.

“Papers,” the gate guard said. We took out our books and he opened the gate, “Welcome to Pylon Eleven.”

Once the gate guard let us in we headed for the towering pylon. A few thousand Old Guard soldiers were milling about doing their duties or relaxing by playing games or drinking, I also noticed that roughly a few hundred of them were wearing odd looking Old Guard uniforms that along with black trimmings instead of white had black quilted padding around the upper arms, shoulders, and upper chest, a blazing dragon skull engraved on their silver belt buckles and as small silver pins on their black berets, and armbands on their left sleeves featuring a blue rose in a white circle.

The Pylon’s airlock door was locked up tight and a couple of surly looking griffons in power armor stood guard, their machine guns at the ready.

“Good evening,” I greeted the airlock guards, “My friend and I were hoping that you’d be able to let us into The Fringe, we have permission.” We pulled out our badges and showed them, the griffons exchanged looks before one stepped over to an intercom by the door.

“General Brantley, sir?” he started in a low voice, “The two mercenaries Colonel Basken radioed about are here. What did you want to do with them?”

“Wait what?” I sputtered, concern washing across my face about what was happening, “I thought we had permission.”

The other griffon raised an armored hand for me to be silent. There was a short pause before a low, gravelly voice replied, “Send them up to my office, Lance Corporal, I want to see who managed to acquire Basken’s badge.”

“General’s upstairs,” The other griffon gestured up a steep flight of stairs.

“I thought we had permission,” I repeated insistently.

“Don’t worry,” the intercom griffon responded, “the General just want’s a word.”

That didn’t improve my concern much.

When we finally reached the top I found a scene similar to Pylon Twenty-Eight, there were hundreds of machine gun emplacements between two large artillery pieces behind sandbag walls. Heavy troopers were standing at the ready while squads of soldiers patrolled between the emplacements or delivering ammunition crates.

What was different though was the view of a massive battle-ruined city that lacked the abundant amount of vegetation of Baltimare or the seas of rainbow colored ash of The Ashes. Deere Street emerged out from the airlock door and stretched out toward the distant horizon.

Standing beside an artillery piece near the obelisk was a dragon that looked similar to Captain Fafnira.

He was much much longer than Captain Fafnira, nearly fifty feet long I think, with muted light sky blue scales and a black underbelly. A rainbow of multicolored feathers ran down his spine to his long swooping snake-like tail to a large feathery plume and his jaw had frilly fins that somewhat resembled fish gills that faded from deep purple to light pink at the edges.

Unlike Captain Fafnira, he wore a rather large Old Guard uniform jacket with a few medals pinned to the lapel and four colored braided cords on his left shoulder (red, yellow, blue, and white), he had a small silver seven pointed star on both of his collar tabs, and had a pair of dark leather gloves over his massive hands. By the way he carried himself, I had a sneaking suspicion that he was the General.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, looking out over war torn ruins almost like it was a garden.

“What did you mean?” I asked.

“The Church of Fyre preaches that Baltimare was under a heavy siege when the Old Empire launched a balefire bomb against us. The Fringe remains as a reminder of what our city could’ve ended up as if the Good Father hadn’t shielded us from the necrotic flames that burned most of Equestria.”

“Church of Fyre?” I asked, a cold apprehension building in my spine.

“The prevailing religion of the city,” he explained nonchalantly, “They worship the Good Father like a god… I’ve never understood that.”

The words hung in the cold air, the Good Father was a god?! Did he mean like the Goddesses? The cold spot in my spine grew. How could anyone have such a claim?

He turned to us, “But I didn’t call you two up here just to discuss ancient history or religion. Hello, I’m Brigadier General Brantley.”

He shook our hooves before leading us into his office in the obelisk. The room was mostly barren with a couple of chairs and a desk in the center with a terminal, a white officer’s cap, and a small framed picture of a younger looking General holding up a number of colorful eggs each nearly as big as my head. The General slithered around the desk and sat down on a small cushion, even with his tail coiling up below him he was still a bit taller than us standing.

“Now, why not explain to me how you got Basken’s badge,” he requested, gesturing to the chairs.

“Why?” I asked, sitting down, “Is there a problem?”

“No, I’m just curious,” he replied, opening a drawer in his desk and pulling out a rather large bottle of alcohol with a faded golden apple on the label and three small glasses, “You see Wall Pylon Commanders are permitted to dispense just five of those badges per year.”

He poured a little bit of the drink into the glasses and corked the bottle, he picked up his glass and downed it. I picked up mine and tested it, sour apple whiskey splashed on my tongue.

“Colonel Augustus Basken is easily one of the most tight-hoofed bastards I know,” the General leaned forward and slightly lowered his voice, “Do you know how many badges he’s given out since he took command of Pylon Twenty-Eight?”

We both shook our heads, the General continued, “Just five in twelve years, including yours’.”

I exchanged a glance with Umeme, we must’ve been super lucky.

“So how did you convince that old Tribal?” the dragon asked, pouring some more whiskey in his glass.

“We did a job for him,” Umeme answered, taking a sip.

“Fair enough,” the General nodded, but continued pushing the question, “Must’ve been pretty damn impressive.”

There was a moment of silence before I alberated, “We fought some Ashbourne and tried to rescue his second.”

The General chuckled into his glass, “How is Fafnira anyway?”

The room went cold, Umeme and I exchanged troubled glances. The General noticed and asked what was wrong.

I took a long moment thinking over what to tell him, “Well… she… um….”

“She’s dead,” Umeme interrupted, his eyes downcast.

The dragon lowered his glass and quietly asked with a shaky breath, “R-really?”

We nodded silently. The silence grew thicker with each passing second before he spoke again.

“I-I see,” he muttered, quietly looking into his glass, he didn’t speak for the better part of an hour before asking, “How… how did she die?”

Umeme and I exchanged looks before I answered, “Defending her company.” Leaving out the Soul of War and the strange stallion.

The General was very quiet again before he poured another round of drinks and raised his glass, “To Fafnira… may she return to Mother Terra, and feel her fiery embrace.”

We raised our own glasses in toast.

“How did you know Captain Fafnira?” I asked, curiosity eating at me.

“Are you serious?” the General asked, his words filled with a dark acceptance, I nodded, he looked down into his glass, “We are… we were siblings. The only ones with the same parents, all of my other siblings have different mothers.”

“How many dragons are there?” I asked quietly.

“In Equestria?” he asked, I nodded, “Well, not too many survived the Last Day… maybe less than a few dozen at most? Fewer have survived the radiation and two centuries of chaos, see balefire affects us just as badly as it affects you smaller lot, so many have deteriorated into mindless monsters. I’ve heard of possible dragons hiding down in The Heartlands, but nothing too concrete. Mother Chundia owns a gem farm in the Lake Trott Basin over in the Griffish Isles, but she’s so old she hasn’t been seen outside of her cave since the Last Day. There was a dragon in the hills up near the Chicoltgo River, but I’m pretty sure they were devoured by The Myre.”

Memories of the rainbow fungus plant in The Ashes sparked in my mind, the way it writhed under the Ashborne’s skin like snakes before erupting out like an eldritch monster. My spine shivered and my stomach flipped at the painful thought of being devoured by some mindless plant.

“But to answer the question for Baltimare, it’s just my father, Lord Felldrik of Fell’s Point, my sisters, Azaris and Fedrill, my brothers, Bonyh, Mezorth, and Vazryt, maybe a dozen unhatched eggs… and myself now.”

There was another long silence that stretched uncomfortably. I felt a connection with the dragon about my own family, for all I knew it was just Mom and I now. “We’re sorry for your loss.”

There was a long silence before the General got up and picked up the picture, “I was born during the Great War, my parents helped the Old Guard to liberate many cities from zebra legionary forces including Los Mustanga and Monacolt. But Mother… she… she didn’t make it out of Horsolulu.”

The name Horsolulu rang a bell in my memories. A photograph from Doctor Orion’s dreams or maybe fragments, the photograph of the mare and colt on a sandy beach.

“What happened?” I asked, putting my glass down.

The General brought over the photograph, “The war was turning for the worse, the Old Guard was losing hundreds of thousands of soldiers… Some provinces were even rebelling against Canterlot and the Six Ministries. My Father was sent out to end the rebellions… by any means necessary.”

I shivered imagining fighting a fully grown dragon, the General poured another round before continuing.

“He had my other siblings to help with the war effort, but none of the eggs could be hatched in time. I was training to fight when… when the Old Guard pulled out from the war and were called back to Baltimare. Lord Khronos had declared that the Horseshoe Bay was succeeding from Canterlot and Equestria. The Steel Rangers mustered an army of thousands and sieged us for nearly two months… before the Last Day.”

There was a very long cold silence as the General stared down at the photograph, “Some days… I wonder if my Mother would be proud of me. Proud of the wyrm I’ve become….”

There was another very long silence, he put the photograph back in its spot and coiled up on his cushions. He poured the last of the whiskey into his glass and downed it in one gulp.

“Well,” he sharply said, putting his glass down, “If you two are headed through The Fringe I’d suggest heading out in the morning.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, finishing my glass.

“It’s the better part of a day’s walk to Fort Colton and The Fringe is full of ancient ordnance from the Great War and the First and Second Emergence Wars. It took the better part of a decade and hundreds of lives to clear out Deere Street alone. So it’d be very beneficial of you to stay on the marked paths.”

He had a point, frankly I'd had enough of active war zones after The Ashes.

“And if we don’t?” Umeme asked.

The General took off one of his gloves and rolled up his uniform’s sleeve, his right hand up to his bicep was completely cybernetic and styled to look somewhat like Mark One power armor, “Have you ever tried to disable a mine so rusted that the timer doesn’t sound? Have you ever picked up ancient missiles or grenades only for them to explode and bring a building down on you?”

I shuddered involuntarily, just how much force did it take to rip through a dragon’s scales, flesh, and bone? A new fear of the Soul of War sparked as I stared down at the shiny metal limb.

Umeme shook his head reluctantly.

The General rolled down his sleeve, “I suggest you two leave in the morning then, there should be some beds you can borrow for the night.”

*** *** ***

Umeme and I stood in the airlock the following early morning, the gate behind us slowly hissed closed. I was getting flashbacks to The Ashes, well at least this time we were in our own gear instead of those bulky environment suits.

There was a bit of a wait before sirens blared and flashed red lights as the heavy metal door in front of us slowly slid open with a hiss. Cold heavy fog rushed in that sliced through my suit and armor to my bones.

Umeme and I stepped out trying to look around, I understood what the General meant by marked paths, red dashed lines had been spray painted on the ground designating where it was safe. Most of the skeletal buildings looked like they were about to collapse from age and neglect and a few of them were even held up by old metal support beams.

My PipBuck’s radiation detector started ticking, the dial was slowly edging toward the line between green and yellow sections. I briefly wondered how Baltimare could remain so clean when it was so dirty just outside their walls. Surely the residue from the balefire would’ve permeated into the city’s ruins after almost two hundred years, right?

I pushed the thought aside as I followed Umeme. Thankfully Deere Street was cleared out and safe, the ancient remains of vehicles had been stripped of anything useful long ago and pushed to the sides to rust and decay.

It was the better part of an hour before we finally made it out of the ruined foggy neighborhood and into a hilly landscape of blasted sandy farmland that stretched out to the horizon with the occasional cluster of blackened tree husks or the remains of a farmstead. A number of birds flew far overhead and the occasional animal that scurried away into underbrush. In the silence I noticed that my radiation detector had stopped ticking, the dial firmly in the green. Otherwise the day was very long and very, very boring, the hours ticked by slowly as our hooves clicked on the broken road.

In the cold silence my thoughts drifted toward unpleasant thoughts. What would I do if I found Mom? Would she even want to see me out here? Where would we even go after I found her? We couldn’t just go back to Stable Fifty-Two, could we? I was losing myself in ever darkening thoughts that didn’t have any promising answers.

“Your path will get darker before you reach its end,” a deep stallion’s voice suddenly sliced through the dark cloud, “But you can still be the Light in the Darkness.”

“What?” I asked.

“I said we’re here,” Umeme repeated.

We were standing on a high ridge looking down on a large town built on the eastern and northern banks of a river leading to a roughly egg-shaped lake with a large tower built up on an island in the center that was connected to the town by a long bridge. Docked to the tower and looming over the island and most of the town was the massive cloudship from Neightick, Song of the North, its massive storm clouds matching the calmer grays of those high above. The occasional dot would fly out and descend to the town or shoot out in a seemingly random direction.

We walked down the high ridge to the fort’s main gate. Five soldiers stood guard with two heavy troopers wearing dark blue and black woolen robes over their armor silently watching us as we approached, weapons at the ready. My PipBuck pinged an alert at me, we’d found Fort Colton.

A door in the gate opened and an equine wearing a featureless mask made out of a strange silver mirrored glass and a long overcoat made of dark blue leather walked out to meet us.

“State your business,” a low mechanized voice sternly ordered.

I noticed that their uniform matched the strange padded uniforms back at Pylon Eleven and their weapon looked like an upsized 12.7mm pistol that had the magazine in front of where the grip and trigger should’ve been. Umeme and I brought out our papers and badges… but the equine waved them away dismissively.

“Those won’t help you,” they stated dryly.

“Why not?” Umeme questioned, adopting a similar tone, “I thought these-”

“Fort Colton and The Fringe are under lockdown by order of the Council,” they clarified, shifting their coat a bit to better show a silver badge on their chest of a blue rose, “And travel after curfew has been strictly prohibited by order of Pontiff Selene, so-”

“Who?” I asked, confused.

“So, you two will be taken to the Grand Master of my order to explain yourselves,” they continued, ignoring my question, they gestured to the heavy troopers.

“What happens then?” Umeme asked, his voice a barely contained growl.

The equine’s featureless mask looked in Umeme’s direction, reflecting his face back to him, “You will explain yourselves to my Grand Master… he will then decide your fates.”

“Fine.”

*** *** ***

Fort Colton was a bustling hub of activity, dozens of civilians and soldiers intermingling and enjoying the brisk evening air. The buildings looked to be in rather good condition compared to the skeletons around the Wall and most were in states of active repair. The two heavy troopers thudded beside us, armored hooves cracking the old street with each step. The crowds parted as we were marched toward the cloudship looming over the town.

“What’s gonna happen to us?” I tried asking one.

“QUIET!” the mechanized voice sternly ordered.

I turned my eye toward the ship hovering above the town, it looked like a giant animal waiting to pounce on its prey. Our escorts led us to the bridge gate and across the lake, which my PipBuck helpfully informed me was called Lake Colton, into the fort proper.

The fort had four main buildings, a command office, a medical center, the tower, and a barracks. A flagpole stood in the central courtyard with Baltimare’s flag at the top with a smaller flag below that with the fiery dragon skull on a blue field fluttering in the cold breeze.

A single griffon wearing the padded uniform stood beside the flagpole, their face hidden behind a mirrored mask.

“That’s far enough,” they called to our escorts, flicking a mechanical claw into a salute, “Report back to your posts.”

The heavy troopers saluted back and turned to leave. When the armored giants had left, the griffon approached and looked us over for a moment before their mask’s mirrored surface slowly dissolved into a clear glass revealing a female griffon’s face that had red feathers, a black mouth piece covering her beak, and solid black cybernetic eyes that had glowing pupils.

“I’m Iudex Captain LaGarde,” her mechanized voice said, extending her non-mechanized hand to shake our hooves, “The Grand Master is in a meeting at the moment so you’ll be taken to Iudex Major Kadaer for questioning then you will be taken to the Grand Master when he’s free.”

Umeme and I exchanged glances before I said, “We were assured that our badges allowed us passage through The Fringe.”

“They do,” LaGarde explained, “You two will just be questioned about your travel intentions and if your answers satisfy the Grand Master then you will be permitted to continue on your way once curfew is lifted in the morning.”

“So, you’re not gonna kill us?” Umeme asked cautiously.

The griffon turned her cybernetic eyes to him, “The Iudicium does not kill without acceptable reason, we are not the Old Guard.”

I felt a chuckle threaten to come up at that. Neightick must’ve been a really fucking acceptable reason then, but I kept that thought to myself.

We must’ve had confused looks because the griffon clarified, “If you just follow me everything will become clearer.”

She led us into the command office, the small lobby was T shaped with a small metal desk in front of a small painting hung up on the wall of an elderly looking pegasus mare with a long white mane with streaks of light gray, a light amber coat, and light malachite green eyes that held a tempered strength that only came with age. She wore a black suit with a horizontally striped tie with seven colors: red, blue, green, white/black (diagonally crossed), pink, gold, and gray and a small pin of Baltimare’s seven pointed star on her lapel.

A small brass plaque at the center bottom said,

Hyacinth Dawn,

15th High Councilor of the

Horseshoe Bay Union and

its territories.

I vaguely remembered hearing the name somewhere before, but I couldn’t quite say where.

Sitting at the desk was a soldier reading a book, giving no indication that she’d noticed our entry. LaGarde gave a mechanical noise that sounded like a cough and a static shriek. The soldier jumped out of her chair, pulling out a compact submachine gun and looking around frantically before noticing us.

“Oh… uh,” she stammered before lowering her gun and saluting LaGarde, “Iudex Captain, ma’am.”

I chuckled under my breath at the soldier’s sudden discomfort, I was no stranger to slacking off at work so I could sympathize.

“As you were, Private,” LaGarde ordered, perhaps with a hint of laughter.

She led us down the left hallway to an unlabeled door, opening it we stepped into a bare gray room with a table and three chairs in the center in front of a mirrored window.

“Please sit down,” she gestured to the two chairs opposite her as she opened a cabinet by the mirrored window.

We did as told and the door opened again, an equine in a matching uniform stepped in, closing the door behind them. They exchanged salutes with LaGarde before turning to us, their mirrored mask dissolved into a clear dome revealing a pony stallion with a grayish turquoise coat and solid black eyes with glowing pupils like LaGarde. There was a sudden string of garbled mechanized radio static like noises that seemed like a code, LaGarde nodded, handing him a clipboard with paper.

He turned back to us, “I’m Iudex Major Kadaer,” a mechanized voice stated in Ponish, “I will be conducting the questioning while the Grand Master is in his meeting.”

Their mechanized voices were starting to make me feel very uneasy, why did they have them? Was it just the intimidation factor? It was certainly working on me.

The stallion took off his overcoat and hung it on a wall peg before pulling out the chair and sitting down. LaGarde placed a small radio shaped device in the center of the table.

“This is a truth spotter,” Kadaer explained, “It’s similar to a lie detector, but far more reliable, it will flash green if you’re telling the truth, orange if you're withholding something, or red if you lie.”

“How can it tell?” I asked, looking down at the strange device.

“It will know,” he answered sternly, “Now do you have your papers?”

We nodded and dug them out, Kadaer looked them over before putting them aside, “Now for a couple of testing questions, please say your names for the device.”

“Umeme.”

“Ozzy.”

The device flashed orange.

“I meant your full name.”

Umeme and I exchanged glances before I said, “Ozymandias.”

“Amandla Orthius Umeme Octavius.”

The device flashed green.

LaGarde scribbled something down on her clipboard as Kadaer continued, “What are your occupations?”

“Unemployed,” Umeme answered.

“Uh, freelance?” I offered.

The device flashed orange for me, but green for Umeme.

“Freelance is not a recognized occupation,” Kadaer addressed me.

“Fine,” I muttered, “unemployed then.”

The device flashed green.

LaGarde scribbled something again as Kadaer continued, “Now let’s start the real questions. Are you now or have you ever been a raider?”

We shook our heads.

“Please voice your answers.”

We both said no, the device flashed green.

“Are you now or have you ever been a slaver?”

“No,” we both answered.

The device flashed green.

The questions continued in this weird way, some were throwaway, while others were super personal… like super uncomfortably personal. It felt like hours, I was struggling to keep my eye open, but eventually Kadaer put down the clipboard.

“Okay, last question.”

I pulled myself together and readied myself for anything, just this last question then we were done. What would they ask? What is my hoof size? What is my favorite drink? My favorite music genre?

“Are you in contact with an earth pony mare called Doctor Applerose?”

My heart stopped. I certainly wasn’t ready for that.

Why would they ask about Mom? Was this connected with the Beloved Daughter? She was with them back at Neightick and asked Sturmkaller about Mom’s whereabouts. I couldn’t just bluff it, could I? The device would surely flash red! Then what would happen?! Would they shoot me? My mind raced for a possible answer….

“No,” Umeme answered, the device flashed green.

Kadaer looked at me for my answer.

Just then LaGarde placed her non-mechanized hand on Kadaer’s shoulder, there was another string of the garbled mechanized radio static as the two conversed before Kadaer looked back at me for my answer.

I deeply hated myself for this, but I had no other choice.

SHIT!

My mouth ran bone dry and my heart thundered in my ears as I opened my mouth and answered.

“No.”

The silence was deafening as time stretched into an eternity, the tension was thick enough to cut with a chainsaw as the device sat in silence as it seemingly examined my answer….

It flashed green.

“Alright then,” Kadaer said, picking up the device, taking his overcoat, and stepping to the door, “Thank you again for your cooperation.”

The door closed behind him.

Umeme gave me a reassuring look as LaGarde finished scribbling on her clipboard, when she was done she addressed us, “If you’ll follow me please, the Grand Master is ready to receive you two.”

We followed LaGarde in silence as she led us to the other side of the command office to a door labeled, Grand Master Iudex of the Order Blue Rose Aeternus.

“Stay here,” LaGarde told us before rapping her knuckles on the door, a string of mechanized garbled static, there was a long silence before another string answered, LaGarde slipped inside, leaving us in the humming silence of the overhead lights.

“Are you alright?” Umeme asked me, “You looked like your brain froze at the last question.”

My body felt cold and clammy, I was still trying to figure out why they asked about Mom.

“Let’s… talk about it later…” I whispered back and quickly added, “When we’re not around here?”

He silently nodded, offering a soft smile. I felt a slight bit of relief wash over me.

The door opened and LaGarde ushered us in. The room was sparse, with a wooden desk in front of a small window offering a nighttime view of Colton, a small blue banner hung on the wall that showed a blue rose on a fiery dragon skull with words Innocentia Nihil Probat printed below, a small collection of old books, a terminal, and one of those strange upsized 12.7mm pistols mounted in a frame hanging on the wall. Sitting behind the desk was a pegasus stallion who must’ve been the Grand Master.

He looked to be in his late sixties, with a shaved mane, coffee beige coat, a long savage looking pale line of an old scar that sliced from his left outer brow, swept along the outside of his left eye socket, down his cheek and jaw, and disappeared under his mask’s hood.

The super distracting part about him were his cybernetics, he looked like the unholy union of equine and machine. His eyes were solid white with glowing pupils, there was a small black device embedded in his forehead, several skinny surgical tubes and hoses trailed out of the corners of his mouth and connected to a fancy respirator in his mirrored domed mask that was set on the desk, and his feathers were replaced with serrated blades that were surgically grafted into his wing stumps.

He turned from LaGarde to look at us as we stepped in, his brow furrowing.

“I’m Iudex Aeternus,” his lips moved, but a mechanized voice came from his mask, “As I have been informed there seems to have been a slight misunderstanding about your… situation.”

The way he said ‘misunderstanding’ reminded me of Overseer Nail.

‘You could say that,’ I thought to myself, but actually said, “Well, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation, uh… sir.”

He picked up LaGarde’s clipboard, “While you two were in violation of curfew, this isn’t the first time Iudex Recruit Fiddyrson has jumped the gun by demanding a questioning.”

So you were just wasting our fucking time?! I resisted the urge to yell.

“So, I’m dropping any possible charges he’s tried to place on both of you and I will assure you that Fiddyrson will be removed from my order and sent up to the Seven Sisters, it’ll be more fitting to his professionalism.”

My anger eased slightly as he continued, “Additionally you two will be permitted to leave without the need of your badges, I’ll inform my order of your descriptions so you won’t be bothered again.”

Well, that was a better start, but something felt a tiny bit off, “While I’m appreciative of you offering to do all of that, I can’t help but wonder if there’s another reason why you wanted to speak with us.”

Umeme nodded in agreement.

The Grand Master leaned back in his swivel chair and grinned slightly, “Well, well, well, mercenaries with brains, perhaps you two could be of some help after all.”

*** *** ***

The following morning we woke up early, pulled on our gear, and left the small hotel to find some breakfast. Colton was starting to wake up too with a small diner opening for the morning crowd. Umeme and I ordered something quick and simple, the chef whipped us some plain oatmeal with apple slices. It wasn’t fancy, but when the steaming hot lumpy meal slid down my throat and silenced my growling stomach, it felt almost heavenly.

With breakfast done we headed toward the town’s south gate. The street led us past some shops that were starting to open. One shop that caught my attention was an everything store with a big sign on the old window,

Ammo,

Guns,

And Gear!

I was thinking about finding a holster and bandoleer for my shotgun. I pointed it out to Umeme and he nodded, gesturing to an apothecary store across the street.

We parted ways.

The store had the look of a shady pawn shop, with glass displays showing off unusual items that I couldn’t recognize and a few larger items mounted and hanging on the walls. I stepped over to the counter and noticed a small brass bell with a sign that said, Ring for Service. I rang it.

“Just a moment,” a gruff sounding voice called out from behind an Employees Only door.

I looked around and spotted an old looking newspaper in a frame on the wall beside the door. It showed a picture of a unicorn mare that I recognized as Princess Anastasia from my odd dreams. She was kneeling before Princess Luna herself and offering up a crown in front of thousands of people. I climbed up on the counter to better read the page’s small print.

Baltimare Times

Stalliongrad Joins Canterlot!

For the better part of the last seven hundred years, the United Tsardoms of Stallgaria, or more commonly known by its capital city of Stalliongrad, has stood between the borders of the North Shore and the swampland of Zebrinica under the fair rule of the Royal House of Rohmarov, playing a neutral part in the politics of the world. And for the last fifteen years the Tsardom has held to its neutrality, neither helping nor hindering either the Princesses or the Caesar as the war has carried on.

But in a shocking turn of events following the death of Tsar Feodor Nikolaevich the Second several Imperial Legions have invaded the Tsardom’s southern border, sieging the cities of Kzivsky and Valandovo. Civilian casualties are estimated to be in the tens of thousands already. The Caesar of Roam has issued the following statement to the new Tsarina, Anastasia Feodorovna:

“If you do not submit your pathetic kingdom to my rule then my legions will purge your heretical excuse of a civilization from the pages of history. We will kill every last stallion, mare, and child. We will rub salt into the very earth so nothing will ever grow again. There will be nothing left.”

The new Tsarina is said to have sent back the following message:

“If.”

The story dominated the page pushing aside other stories like Worker riots break out across the Griffish Isles as gemstones becomes scarce and Gun fights rip across the provinces of Neighvada and Marizona as local Desert Rangers and pro-republic forces clash in the streets of Tailahassee and Puerto Caballo and Volcanic eruptions smother the border cities of Canter Creek and Pondpii, no survivors found.

“The world was really falling apart back then, huh?” I muttered to myself, leaning back, “It feels like nothing has changed.”

After a bit of time, an older zebra stallion stepped through the employee door revealing a set of steep stairs leading up and down.

“Good morning,” I greeted.

The stallion grumbled something before glaring at me, “Whatcha want?!”

“I noticed your sign, do you have a shotgun bandoleer?”

The shopkeeper grumbled something again before stepping through another door at the end of the counter. There were a few loud crashes before he came back with a bandoleer in his mouth.

“Try this,” he placed it on the counter for me to see.

The bandoleer was made out of thick gray cloth with about sixty looping slots for individual shotgun shells, a black leather shotgun holster, and a brass belt buckle. The price tag said it was eighty bucks.

“I don’t know,” I muttered, examining the equipment, “My shells could fall out of the slots during combat….”

“The slots are rated to fit all types of 12 Gauge,” the shopkeeper argued back, clearly not wanting this.

“”I don’t know,” I repeated skeptically, “I’ll give you thirty.”

“Seventy-five,” the shopkeeper haggled back.

“Thirty-five?”

“Seventy.”

Dammit he was stubborn, “Forty-five?”

“Sixty,” he said, grinning in slight triumph, “Last offer.”

Fucking Luna dammit!

“What’s taking so damn long, Love?” a female griffon’s voice suddenly called out from the shop’s stairs.

“Just finalizing a deal, Honey,” the shopkeeper answered.

A sneaky thought brightened in my mind.

“Fifty-five,” I said, reaching into my saddle bag and pulling out the griffon pornography magazine, “And I’ll throw this in with it.”

The shopkeeper looked the magazine over before glancing over his shoulder to the stairs, he leaned over the counter and muttered in a hushed voice, “Alright, fifty-five bucks.”

I gave him the money and clipped the bandoleer in place with my revolver and carefully loaded it with shells from my shotgun magazines as I stepped out into the street to join Umeme. We followed the street to a large bridge spanning the Colton River, on the other side was the town’s southwestern gate.

The crumbling road led to a slightly sloping hill bordering the town, giving a nice view of the landscape. It sloped down the hill and weaved between dozens of small hills at the bottom as it trailed west toward the distant fuzzy shapes of the occasional farmstead dotted periodically. Early morning sunlight peeked out from the eastern horizon filling the air with pink, lighting up my clouded breath with each exhale.

“Are we really doing this?” Umeme asked, yawning, “I mean we barely survived The Ashes as it is.”

I couldn’t really argue with that, checking my map there was a small marker where the town of Drybed was supposedly located. By my math it was at least five hours of walking.

“Well, we did survive raiders… and that,” Umeme nodded begrudgingly as I continued, “Besides we’re just checking on the town, nothing more.”

I started down the road, Umeme grumbled something under his breath in Roamani before trailing behind.

Despite what he said I was feeling rather upbeat. The Grand Master said he’d reward us if we did this job for him and it was already on our route. Drybed was close to The Fringe’s western border. He'd even given us a radio signal to call him when the job was done.

“I’m telling you, Umeme, things are really looking up for us.”

*** *** ***

Did I mention I’m a bit of an idiot?

The town of Drybed lived up to its name being on the banks of a dried up swampy lake bed with a swampy river that led to the Neighagra River. The town itself was built out of an older decaying town with most of the ten brick buildings patched up with sheet metal or plywood along the crumbling road, surrounding the town was a small collection of farms and gardens that were in the middle of being harvested.

The town was quiet… save for me sprinting between the buildings desperately trying to outrun the hordes of mutated spider-like creatures the size of dogs nipping at my hooves with snarling knife shaped pincers that glistened with venom.

So otherwise… It was shaping up to be a rather normal day up here.

“I JUST HAD TO FUCKING SAY IT!” I shouted, all of my guns blasting away at the spiders.

Umeme was perched on a roof with a few of the surviving townsfolk taking pot shots at the spider horde chasing me. His standard bullets sliced into their pale green chitinous armor, but even with the armor piercing enchantment they did very little overall damage.

“Hey Merc!” the Acting-Mayor, Sugar Petal, shouted at me from the roof of the barricaded town hall, “Try to get them to the lake!”

I jumped over a ruined barricade and shot out from the buildings. Sprinting across a small potato farm to the swampy grass. The horde was right on my tail though, their small size allowing them to slip between the openings.

“Fucking good idea!” I shouted, lungs burning, legs screaming in protest.

My hooves were getting caught in the deep swampy mud slowing me down. One of the spiderbugs jumped on my back, driving its pincers into my shoulder pauldron. Another grabbed my hindleg. I was dragged face first into the muddy grass, my hooves flared every which way, striking spiders.

I was certain of my death when suddenly I noticed a black shape looming in the cloudy skies. The shape swooped down with lightning speed close enough for me to see it was a pegasus wearing augmented silver power armor. The spiders grabbing me let go of my limbs and turned to the pegasus, their pincers snapping angrily.

“Get down!” he shouted with a mechanized voice as he pulled out an upsized 12.7mm pistol in a cloud of pink magic.

“Holy shit!” I shouted, rolling to the side just in time.

The pegasus shot through the spider horde, serrated wing blades slicing through their armored exoskeletons like wet tissue paper. The monstrous pistol erupted in thunder with each shot taken, bullets ripping through the remaining spiders. Blue blood was spilled everywhere, coating me and every inch of the ground around me. I slowly stood up and dredged to the bank.

“Fucking hell!” I spluttered, trying to clear off my face, the blood dripped down and splashed in the dirt, “Anyone got a towel?!”

“Sorry I’m late,” The pegasus’s mechanical staticy voice said as he swooped down landing beside me, mechanical blade wings folding up at his sides, “Traffic and all that.”

My very tired brain took a moment to register what he just said… Did… did he really really just say that?

The pegasus reloaded his pistol and glanced in my direction, “Are you one of the mercenaries my Grand Master hired?”

“I am,” I said, still wiping off the blue blood, “Are you Iudex Captain Aloysius?”

“I am,” he said, his mirrored mask cleared revealing his solid black eyes and glowing pupils, he glanced at the fresh spider corpses littered around, “It would seem my Grand Master chose wisely enough.”

A small compartment in the side of his battle saddle opened up and he took out a small plastic box, “I trust that this will be a suitable payment.”

I opened it but instead of money I found several boxes of ammunition (45 Auto, 7.62mm, and plain 12 Gauge shells), a couple combat meal thermoses, and a first aid kit. “I thought I’d get money.”

“No he said you’d get rewarded, and he meant it. We’re not allowed to hire mercenaries in locked down areas, still a requisitiation form could go missing and it’s not like the Pontiff is gonna send someone out here to check.”

I nodded, putting the box in my saddle bag, it was better than nothing.

“There was one other thing,” the Iudex Captain said, pulling out a small computer chip, “This chip has coordinates and the key code to an old Iudicium safe house, it was abandoned during the Second Emergence War. Any supplies that still there is your’s for the taking.”

I was about to thank him, but he held up his armored hoof, “Don’t worry about it… I’m sure we’ll be doing this again soon enough, Ozymandias,” he said, before rocketing into the sky and flying back toward Colton.

Wait… how did he know my name?

Umeme came over but then backed up when he caught a whiff of the blood, “Patecatl’s Mercy!” he shouted, holding onto his nose.

“Hey, hopefully things will get better,” I weakly offered.

*** *** ***

You’d think I’d have learned to keep my mouth shut by now.

Umeme and I ducked behind a rusty wagon as a raider griffon wielding a pair of lever shotguns tried to nail us.

“Why yah runnin’?!” he laughed maniacally, “We’s just gonna skins yah!”

“Not if I pluck your wings, you fucking overgrown pigeon!” I shouted back, popping off a couple shots that the griffon dodged around easily.

A couple of raiders charged out of the farmhouse with another one with a hunting rifle who shot off a few rounds trying to cover for her fellows, one bullet skimming my shoulder pauldron leaving a shallow dent.

Sliding into S.A.T.S. I aimed at the grenades on the griffon’s belt.

BLAM! BLAM!

The first two shots nicked the silver shell, but the third set it off.

Ka-BOOM!

The griffon’s scream was garbled as he fell from the air in bloody chunks, two of his fellows charged us with a shovel spear and a pistol while the third tried to cover them with a hunting rifle, I felt a couple of bullets ricochet off my shoulder pauldron and whizzed past my eyepatch.

Though his scavenged metal barding could just about prove against the 45 Auto rounds of Light, it was wet tissue paper compared to the enchanted 7.62mm rounds of Umeme’s assault rifle.

The first two rounds sliced the serrated shovel spear, but the last three punched through his shoulder, foreleg, and ripped through his flank. He stumbled and rolled into a heap, whimpering pitifully. The one with the pistol seemed to be wearing barding that wasn’t quite as sturdy because he was hiding behind a broken stone wall, Light managed to punch through his hoofballer’s helmet and he crumpled behind his cover.

We advanced on the raider with the hunting rifle, she tried to fight us off, but her aim was horrible. Umeme came to the shovel spear raider, he looked up at the zebra with bloodshot eyes. Pressing his rifle’s muzzle against his forehead Umeme fired a single shot.

Unexpectedly, the hunting rifle raider dropped her weapon and ran up to the farmhouse, I felt a slight pang of guilt that I quickly pushed aside, every raider and bandit I killed saved an innocent life, hopefully. I took aim the old fashioned way and shot off the remainder of my magazine.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

The first two rounds missed, clipping the farmhouse, but the third and fourth landed, clipping her hindlegs. She stumbled landing face first in the muddy dead grass, but she still tried to reach the house.

“Poppy,” she cried, dragging herself.

Umeme stepped up and pressed his rifle’s muzzle against the raider’s head and fired. I reloaded and Umeme stripped the bodies of supplies and weapons before we entered the house. The door slowly creaked open and to my surprise the room just inside was empty save for a single ratty moldering couch and a broken television. Honestly I was very surprised at the sheer lack of bloody corpse decorations, but then a slight crying caught my ears, it sounded like a baby.

“Is someone here?” Umeme asked, only to get silence.

“Come on out, we’re not raiders,” I added.

The crying continued faintly, Umeme gestured to a hallway, I poked my head around the corner and very nearly got plugged by a griffon raider holding some kind of magical energy weapon that shot off a stream of fucking lightning!

“GIT OUTTA MUH HOME!” she shouted, shooting off more bolts that scorched the moldering wallpaper with thin trails of blackened soot.

“Back up!” I shouted at Umeme.

Before I could react, he pulled out a grenade and pulled off the stem in his mouth and as he jumped across the hallway into another room, throwing the metal apple at the raider. But the raider nailed his flank just below his armor plate, causing Umeme to crumple in pain and spasm on the cracked tiled floor.

BOOM!

The grenade exploded, showering the hallway in ancient moldy drywall and wood splinters, blowing holes in the side of the already collapsing house and flinging the raider back into the room she came from.

“Umeme,” I knelt by his side and held him down as the spasms slowly stopped and he could move properly again.

“Fuck,” he muttered, getting his hooves under him to sit up.

“Are you gonna be ok?” I asked, handing him his rifle.

“Just need a moment, flank hurts like a bloodbug stung me.”

I went to check on the raider, but she was dead. So I picked up the lighting weapon thing, it was rather large and cumbersome almost needing a battle saddle and used some sparkle batteries crudely duct taped together to generate the lightning between a trio of one foot long metal conducting rods that shot out a small ball of compressed gas that arched the lightning at its target.

“Weird,” I muttered, dropping it on the floor.

I stepped over the raider and into the room she came from, the room had a couple of sleeping rolls, a few opened footlockers, and a few ammo boxes, but not much else. I was about to turn around and return to Umeme when my ears perked up at the soft crying. It was coming from a closet in the corner. I lifted Light and my revolver at the ready and pulled back the cover… and saw a pair of very young kids, an earth pony filly guarding a young griffon holding onto a unicorn baby tightly. The filly stared up at me with tear filled bloodshot eyes past the .38 caliber revolver in her trembling mouth.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” I muttered, lowering my guns slightly. I must’ve looked like a monster to them, broke into their home and killed their family.

Luna fucking dammit it was Dela Crow all over again!

“Hey, Umeme!” I called over my shoulder, “Can you come here?”

“Yeah?” Umeme stumbled limped into the room, he had one of the lever shotguns from the griffon outside holstered over his saddle bags for easy access and both bandoliers of 20 gauge shotgun shells crossed over his shoulders over his cloak, he glanced down at the kids cowering from me and his face fell, “Oh… great.”

“How do you wanna handle this?” I asked, hoping he’d be a bit more compassionate than Ophia had been with the Swampfolk.

There was a long uncomfortable silence, my heart thumped in my ears. “I don’t care,” he muttered, turning away and hubbling back down the hallway.

I released the breath I was holding in, it was the answer I’d kinda been hoping for, but at the same time… I turned back to the kids and sighed before leaving the room.

*** *** ***

The sun was probably close to mid afternoon but somehow it was getting noticeably colder. I’d need to find a proper coat soon if it got worse.

We’d truly left Baltimare behind us, the increasing number of raiders proved that. We followed the dried up river till we finally reached the Neighagra River. I spotted The Old Circle across the raging water, but there was no way to cross it. So we ended up following the river for several miles before we reached an old crumbling bridge that allowed The Old Circle to cross to our side of the river and trailed northwest into Haagenheim.

Umeme had given me the hunting rifle from the raider farmhouse, it wasn’t in the best condition, but it could work for now. The rifle bumped against my saddle bag with each step, the spare magazines clinking in my saddle bag.

It was the better part of the afternoon when we neared a small building just off the road with a small smoke trail. Umeme pulled me to the side behind a rusting wagon, probably a couple hundred yards across a somewhat hilly field of drying dirt, large rocks, and dead grass. He pulled out a pair of binoculars from his saddle bags.

“Shit,” he swore, handing the binoculars to me, “Raider nest.”

I looked through the lenses and saw the building was a diner and was reinforced with a scrap wood and metal wall complete with a few corpses hung up as sickening decorations.

“They haven’t spotted us, we could go around,” he planned.

I saw a zebra raider with piss yellow jagged stripes sitting on the roof holding a sniper rifle in his hooves and based on the magazine shape it was probably rechambered for 7.62mm instead of .308. There were also a few other raiders milling about the small base doing things like patching holes in the walls or standing guard. I counted five, maybe six.

“How well do you think you can aim your hunting rifle?” Umeme asked me.

“Probably not that far,” I muttered, lowering the binoculars and giving them back, “He’ll pick us off before his fellows even know they’re being attacked.”

“You could make a distraction while I get closer to take them out,” he offered.

I was about to argue with him, but he pulled up his hood and disappeared, his hoofprints leading up to the nest. I sighed and pulled out my hunting rifle. Loading in a magazine I took aim at the sniper raider the old fashioned way to save S.A.T.S. for when I’d need it.

BLAM!

My first shot missed, the sniper thankfully was looking the other way so he was confused.

BLAM!

My second missed too, by now the raiders were getting antsy and the sniper was looking around for me.

“Dammit,” I muttered, frustrated at my lack of accuracy, I tried to calm my breathing as best I could and fired a third time.

BLAM!

The bullet ripped through the sniper’s scope into his head, he crumpled back and the sniper rifle fell to dangle off the side of the diner because its strap got caught on his barding.

I ducked behind my cover as the raiders searched for me. Glancing out I saw a grenade appear out of thin air as it was thrown into the wall’s entrance as a raider with a shotgun stepped out.

BOOM!

The raider was thrown backwards with the force of the explosion, their fellows started firing their weapons in seemingly random directions. Not sure from where the attack was coming from.

I took aim at another raider, she was firing an assault rifle at a nearby tree. Lining up the sights I fired.

BLAM!

The bullet missed, skimming the side of her helmet. She dove into a ditch for cover, when she poked her head out looking for me a bullet sliced through her helmet causing her to slump to the side.

I crawled out of cover and ran for a ditch a few yards forward, suddenly pain ripped through my foreleg as a bullet skimmed my bicep. Blood seeped down my sleeve, I jumped into the ditch and checked the wound, I wrapped it with a bandage for now before targeting the raiders sprinting at me.

BLAM! click!

I quickly ripped out the empty magazine and slammed in a fresh one and racked the bolt back just in time to fire into a raider with a fucking sword! Time slowed as I slipped into S.A.T.S. to target him.

BLAM! BLAM!

Time corrected the bullets slammed into his metal chest plate, leaving large dents that made him stumble a bit, but the blade stabbed a few inches into my shoulder between my chest armor and my pauldron. Pain erupted as the blade sliced through my flesh to my scapula bone. I slammed my rifle’s muzzle into his neck and fired the rest of my magazine.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

The raider’s neck was ripped open, spraying blood across the area. The raider dropped the sword’s grip and pressed his hoof against his neck to try to stop the excessive bleeding, but it was no use. I pulled out my shotgun and fired a slug into his skull.

BLAM!

The raider died, his brain painting the ditch. I focused my magic on the sword blade and yanked it out, quickly focusing my healing spell on the wound. When the bleeding stopped I pulled out my rifle’s empty magazine, but when I reached into my saddle bag for a fresh one I realized that I was out!

“Oh, come on!” I tossed the rifle aside and pulled out my shotgun to fire at an approaching raider with a submachine gun.

BLAM!

The slug ripped through her makeshift leather armor and made her drop the submachine gun and crash into a tree stump. I quickly reloaded with incendiary shells and sprinted across. Umeme was fighting against the other two raiders, one with a shotgun and the other was wearing a suit of metal plate armor and wielding an axe that crackled fire with every swing.

I held up my shotgun as I ran up to the raider, grabbing the submachine gun with my magic before running to join Umeme. He’d killed the shotgun raider and was now focusing on the raider leader. I aimed my submachine gun and sprayed a few rounds, peppering the raider leader giving Umeme enough time to disappear.

The leader charged me with the axe in his mouth, my submachine gun’s bullets riddled and dented his metal armor, but did little to stop him. He slammed into me knocking me into the muddy grass, the axe bit into my submachine gun hard enough that I heard the main spring snap. The raider leader brought his armored hooves down on my chest, knocking the wind out of me, he snarled over me with a wicked grin.

Suddenly, Umeme jumped on his back and drove his knife between the plates of armor into his neck, the raider struggled to buck him off before rearing back and slammed both of them into a large rock.

Focusing my magic on Light, I aimed at the raider and shot him underneath his helmet into his muzzle, he collapsed on Umeme. I carefully pulled myself up, hubbling over to help push the corpse off of him. He tried to stand but I told him to stop when I noticed his foreleg was twisted backwards and hanging limply at his side.

“That doesn’t look very good,” I muttered.

“Trust me, I’ve had worse,” he laughed through his clenched teeth.

“Okay, okay, okay,” I grimaced, helping him up as we hubbled into the diner.

The place was clear according to my E.F.S., we entered the main room. The walls were decorated with profane graffiti and a large pile of crates, footlockers, and ammo boxes. Umeme sat down at a table while I rummaged through the stolen supplies.

I found a leaking paper package of sloppy meat disturbingly labeled, KÖTT, one sniff told me it probably wasn’t anything I’d want to eat so I tossed it over my shoulder. I came back with a few magazines and boxes of bullets including 7.62mm, 357 Magnum, 45 Auto, and a strange caliber that the head stamp called 6.5mm.

Despite my extensive knowledge of firearms I’d never heard of the caliber before and the box was written in a language that I couldn’t understand. I put the ammo aside and continued to shift through the supplies, finding a bottle of RadSafe, a large stash bag of bucks, a jug of clean water, some reasonably clean food… and a memory orb?

What was a memory orb doing here?

I put that to the side for now.

Umeme had laid out our medicine on the table, he was removing his gear as best he could, I put the scavenged items on the table and helped lift the stallion’s broken leg out of his sleeve. I quickly mentally flipped through my medical knowledge before deciding on the best treatment given the injury.

“Hey, it doesn’t hurt as much,” he mumbled, mistaking my thought process for hesitation.

“I’m gonna try and twist it back into place, okay?” I asked, preparing myself.

The stallion pulled out a bottle of whiskey and down the whole thing in one go before nodding, he leaned his head back closing his eyes. I focused my anesthetic spell on his foreleg.

“Okay, one-” I quickly snapped the leg around into place, Umeme yelled out in pain and tried to sock me with his good forehoof.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?!” he shouted, holding onto his once injured foreleg, “Shiiit!”

“Hey, you’d have tensed up and it would’ve hurt more,” I admitted, “I was taught that it’s better to do it when they’re not expecting the pain.”

The stallion grumbled, turning to look out the broken glass, ignoring me, then he started snoring lightly.

“Okay, I need to focus on my leg,” I took off my foreleg guard and rolled up the bloody sleeve.

There was a long curved wound just below my elbow, thankfully it didn’t seem too deep, I focused my anesthesia spell on it and slowly the stinging pain lessened to a dull thump. I focused on a healing spell, the wound slowly stopped bleeding and healed into a pale scar. I sipped half of a healing potion and I felt better.

I focused my magic on Umeme’s bullet wound, the shrapnel had gone deep and probably would be hard to get out with conventional tweezers. I locked on to the metal shards and, incredibly thankful that my training focused on many small items, carefully pulled them out one by one. Umeme stirred in his sleep, once all the shrapnel was gone I poured in the rest of the healing potion into the hole and his flesh knitted together leaving a pale scar.

I stepped out into the parking lot and picked over the raiders for their weapons and armor, bringing the small haul back inside and set up at another table. Then I quickly remembered why I’d even attacked the raider nest in the first place. I went back outside and grabbed the sniper raider, magically tugging at his barding, he tumbled down into the dirt.

I stripped him of his gear and his sniper rifle, it was in amazing condition, no signs of rust or even grit, and a small number of tally marks had been scratched into the dark wood stock. The markings on the receiver were printed in the same language, Aslaun-59. I didn’t quite understand the name, maybe it was the designer? Moving on I checked the magazine, but my suspicions were proven wrong, instead of .308 or 7.62mm it took the strange 6.5mm rounds in special ten round, double stack magazines.

I took the rifle inside and started repairing my gear, disassembling the raider barding I selected the best metal bits and carefully wielded them in place on my foreleg guards and pauldrons, I then stripped the leather and stitched it into my barding and suit. It wasn’t perfect, but the repairs should suffice till I found a better repairpony. I started repairing Umeme’s armor and weapons when he suddenly said something in his sleep.

“But I don’t wanna eat my radishes, Momma,” he drozily mumbled, slumping down in the seat.

I continued wielding and working out the bullet dents, then stripping down the raider weapons. I replaced some parts in Umeme’s shotgun and customized the Aslog sniper rifle, removing the broken scope and using the backup iron sights. I went outside to test my new weapon and after a couple of rounds was satisfied with my work.

I ate one of the combat meals and downed a bottle of water while I pulled up my map to check the distance between here and Fort Swelling. If we got moving soon we’d probably reach the place late in the evening.

Finishing dinner I quickly grew bored without anything else to do. I looked down at the memory orb, it sat there tempting me. Despite my reservations from the last orb I had unfittingly witnessed, I picked it up in my hooves, laid down in the booth seat, and focused my magic on it.

The world melted away.

<-=======oo0 0oo=======->

The first thing I noticed was the cold… far far worse than the cold of the North Shore. This coldness sliced through my host’s clothing, coat, and sliced into their bones. The second thing I noticed was the feeling of thunderous drumming of massive artillery firing out their payloads. Each blast rocked my host’s teeth like massive war drums.

My host opened their eyes and I saw that we were standing with hundreds of thousands of soldiers: ponies, griffons, and zebras with a rainbow spectrum of colored stripes, all wearing matching heavy white uniforms with suits of white combat armor with the dragon skull symbol of the Old Guard painted in black on their shoulder pauldrons. My host had a heavy assault rifle slung over his shoulder.

We stood on a concrete harbor on the banks of a swift river of icy black water, on the far bank was a massive city of ruined buildings where flashes of multicolored light burned their silhouettes in the cold darkness. I felt as though I’d seen this cityscape before but I couldn’t recall where.

Dozens of boats were crossing the river, one moored at the dock in front of my host and I felt him rush forward with the other soldiers to board and cross the torrent icy waters. The boat rocked with each wave, tossing my host as he pulled out the cold gray metal dog tags from under his clothing in his golden magic and looked down at them,

Diamond Hide
OG-78126407
Qa NEG
Baltimare,
Horseshoe Bay

One of the soldiers next to my host, a zebra mare with shadowy indigo stripes, vomited over the side into the dark river.

“You ok, Matthia?” I felt my host’s lips move as he asked, grabbing the zebra’s shoulder pauldron, she wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve.

“You know me, Diamond,” she offered a weak smile, “We Orah aren’t meant for the water.”

I felt my host smirk before a blue sky chariot swooped overhead chasing a black and white striped sky chariot back over the city.

A middle aged earth pony mare stood at the boat’s front. She was wearing a heavy black leather coat with a fur lining over dark blue uniform with white trousers with red stripes and a black military officer’s cap with a red and white five pointed star over a golden blazing sun. She had a double barreled shotgun slung over her shoulder with a cloth bandolier of shotgun shells crossed over her chest and shoulder. The officer looked over the ruined city and sighed heavily before turning to the soldiers in her boat.

“Welcome to Stalliongrad,” her voice held a heavy rough Stallgarian accent, “You’re about to start the greatest moments of your young lives. The Caesar has lost hundreds of tanks and sky chariots. His brutal legions are now advancing toward Stalliongrad over mountains of their own dead bodies!”

An artillery shell hit a nearby boat exploding its motor, raining fire and shrapnel everywhere.

“Tsarina Anastasia Feodorovna, our Printsessa Luna, our Ministries, our great nation has given us the task to not let the enemy cross the Stallga-matushka and to defend the city of Stalliongrad!”

A zebra sky chariot swooped down on us, it’s crew firing their machine guns at my host’s boat in a strafing line, peppering and killing a few soldiers around us before it swooped up and turned around to strafe the boat again.

BOOM!

The chariot exploded in a ball of fire and molten metal, crashing into another boat as a pegasus in a purple suit with a pair of miniguns swooped overhead. The surviving soldiers cheered.

The officer though seemed unperturbed by the utter chaos, pulling off her shotgun and pointing it up at the ruined city, “Forward against the enemy! Up into the unremitting battle, Tovarishch, for Stalliongrad, for our great nation, not one step back!” the officer looked back and noticed a few soldiers had jumped overboard trying to escape, she swung around her shotgun, “Cowards are traitors and will be shot!” firing both rounds into their backs, murdering them, “Do not count days! Do not count miles! Count only the number of Imperialists you have killed! Kill the Empire! This is your mother’s prayer! Kill the Empire! This is the cry of Equestria! Do not waver! Do not let up! Kill!”

We reached the docks and the officer held her shotgun high, “Death to the Imperial Invaders!”

“Death to the Imperial Invaders!” Many of the soldiers shouted as we climbed onto the docks, my host sprinted up the bank where a number of other soldiers were waiting to join the fight further up in the city.

Suddenly a deafening explosion behind my host threw him up into the air and crashed down in the cold bloody mud, he looked behind him and the docks he had just been moments ago were in a smouldering crater.

An earth pony mare wearing a rather makeshift looking uniform of a heavy looking brown quilted long coat, heavy black woolen trousers, a cloth bandolier crossed over her shoulder, and an olive drab metal helmet with the red and white star over the golden sun. She held a heavy assault rifle with a long spike bayonet in her cloth wrapped hooves.

“Baltimare tovarishch,” she waved my host over, “I am Corporal Pavlina Kirillovna Balaban, we will be working together.”

My host extended his hoof to shake her’s, “This way to the frontlines.”

We charged up a deep reinforced trenchline leading up the hill to the buildings, Corporal Balaban jumped into a side passage and my host followed. We charged up through the bombed out ruins of a toy factory, zebra soldiers rounded a corner.

Before they could react, Corporal Balaban charged and stabbed one between the plates of his armor with the bayonet of her rifle. The other zebra aimed their combat shotgun, but my host fired his own rifle at her, covering Corporal Balaban so she could get to cover.

A group of Old Guard soldiers charged into the factory from a different way, one soldier helped my host up, an earth pony stallion with a light green coat and a short cut straw blond mane and tail, he held an assault rifle in his mouth.

“C’mon, buck, We were Dragonslayers once!” he shouted triumphantly, following the group.

My host and his guide followed and after charging through twisting broken streets and half buried alleyways. Eventually we came upon a large open courtyard with a large broken marble fountain decorated by bronze soldiers holding swords and shields. One of which was lying half buried in snow and rubble, a bent pipe spewed murky water up into the heavy foggy air. The courtyard was eerily silent compared to the chaos around. A crowd of soldiers were waiting behind broken brick walls waiting for something.

“What’re we doing?” my host asked Corporal Balaban.

“There’s a zebra machine gun nest on the far side,” she explained, “Giving us a hard ass-fucking for days now.”

Before my host could ask further, a high pitched whistle pierced the heavy fog and the Stallgarian and Old Guard soldiers charged across the large courtyard.

“They are heading for the machine guns,” Corporal Balaban told my host, “I know a better way to flank them, this way.”

She jumped up and ran around the broken walls around the courtyard. We came to the machine gun nest, twenty zebras were crewing the machine guns. Corporal Balaban and my host took aim and fired upon the enemy.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

We took down most of them before they realized what was happening, but then they were quickly overrun by the Stalliongrad and Baltimare and Equestrian soldiers who slaughtered them mercilessly.

We ran through streets and alleyways, killing zebra soldiers til we entered a building and came into a room overlooking a massive hill that was a few feet short of a mountain, two large battlescarred statues stood at the top, one of Princess Luna and the other was of Tsarina Anastasia offering up her crown to the Goddess, or rather Princess.

My host looked out at the massive hill, a battle scarred flag was flapping in the heavy rain over the mostly ruined monument, the same zebra flag from the Rhoades newspaper. Hundreds of soldiers charged the hill’s trenches, the lower ones had already been taken so the zebras were desperately trying to hold onto what ground they still had.

<“Sharpshooter!”> Balaban shouted, suddenly pushing my host away from the window just as a bullet ripped through her helmet, killing her.

My host stared down at the mare's corpse, her seeping blood coating the floor, he grabbed his rifle and leaned up against the wall. His heart was pounding in his chest after having nearly died.

Suddenly, a pegasus mare jumped down from the upper floor, she was wearing a black woolen overcoat under a set of olive drab combat armor with the red and white star painted over the golden sun on her shoulder pauldrons. Her blonde mane was pulled up into her black fur hat and goggles covered her brown eyes.

<“There you are,”> she muttered in Stallgarian, lifting her sniper rifle and shooting a target up in the fort, <“I’ve been hunting that bastard all day.”>

She turned to my host and nodded her head, kneeling beside me she spoke in Ponish, “I am sorry for your friend, Baltimare tovarishch, her sacrifice won’t go to waste,” she helped my host up, “I am Lieutenant Alenkza Jurgievna Ophelanov, we have to retake Unification Hill, charge up the trenches, I’ll cover you, that filthy flag will fall!”

<-=======oo0 0oo=======->

My eye opened, I was back at the diner raider nest, the skies outside the cracked windows were starting to darken. According to my PipBuck I’d been in the orb for at least an hour.

Apart from the very abrupt ending, that orb was a little better than the last one.

“Umeme?” I asked with a slightly cracked voice, when there was no answer I sat up and noticed the campfire billowing smoke into the dark cloudy sky.

Getting up I stepped outside, the corpses had been removed making the place a tiny bit nicer. I stepped up to the campfire thankful for the warmth, I noticed a meal was frying up in a pan sitting on a large flat stone beside the fire. My stomach growled loudly when I caught a whiff of the roasting meat and canned vegetables.

“Umeme?” but again there was silence.

I sat down and picked up the pan and turned the food over with my magic. As the food sizzled I thought about what we were gonna do, what were the chances that the Enclave would know where Mom may have gone? What were the chances that they’d even care? The North Shore was huge, nearly three times the size of The Heartlands according to my maps.

I couldn’t just wander around till I found her.

“Well, you’re finally awake,” Umeme’s voice called out as he came around from behind the diner, “Just checking on the walls if we’re gonna be here overnight.”

“Oh… right,” I said, snapping out of my thoughts.

“Something wrong?” Umeme asked, sitting down beside me, “I saw you were in a memory orb, what was it?”

I looked down at the food, “Have you heard of Stalliongrad?”

“The Tsardom’s old capital?” he asked, “What about it?”

“The orb showed me a battle there during the war…”

Umeme got really quiet and poked at the food until it was done. We ate in silence for the better part of a half before he spoke.

“Stalliongrad was one of our worst mistakes, you’d be hard pressed to find a zebra that is proud of the Stallgarian Genocide.”

“The Tsardom was neutral, why would you attack it?”

“No one really knows for sure, maybe we wanted to better secure the northern border against the Old Guard. Maybe we thought Equestria was gonna invade through Zebrincia. Maybe we were just getting desperate with the deadlock on the western front and were crazy enough to push through a smaller country to make a new one. Not that the genocide was justifiable… whatever the reason might be.”

“Sounds like the Outcasts and the Swampfolk… or the old Guard and the Ashbourne.”

Umeme didn’t say anything, he took the pan away from the campfire and dished out some of the food onto a couple of small plates and handed me one and a spoon. We ate in silence, when we finished up Umeme spoke again, “Hey, did you repair my armor?”

“I tried,” I said, cleaning off my plate, “I couldn’t really do anything for the plates though.”

“Don’t worry about it I’ll have to replace that later, you did alright with the harness though.

my PipBuck chimed at me, the radio had picked up a new signal.

“This is Command Sergeant Major Ironwing of the Expeditionary Corp of the Grand Pegasus Enclave stationed at Fort Swelling broadcasting on all friendly channels. Fort Swelling is under attack by Blackraven Beastlords, we’ve sustained heavy casualties. All Expeditionary Corps units return to base and assist in defense, this message repeats in five seconds.”

Umeme was hesitant to go, but I managed to convince him.

*** *** ***

Fort Swelling was built much like Fort Colton, the fort was built on an island in the middle of a large lake for protection with a bridge connecting it to a small town on the banks. The problem was that in the two hundred-ish years since the bombs fell most of the lake had dried up and was now a shallow boggy swamp.

Close to a thousand tribal raiders wearing black scavenged metal armor and barding accented by mutated animal pelts were attacking the main gate with mutated animals: wild dogs, radhogs, small lions with short dark brown fur, large scaly birds, and a wide variety of other animals and creatures I didn’t recognize.

The Enclave soldiers were returning fire from atop the Fort’s high walls and swooping down on the crowds, but for every dozen raiders they killed they lost a couple of their own and dozens upon dozens of corpses littered the town leading up to the battle.

Umeme and I climbed a two story building with a collapsed storefront on the outskirts by Highway Twenty, an earth pony mare wearing armor made of scavenged scrap metal scales and accented by a white wild dog pelt laid dead with a serrated machete in her mouth, dry blood pooled on the floor from a massive hole in her neck. I picked her over, finding a healing potion. Umeme placed a frag mine under the corpse before we climbed the rickety stairs and came out onto the roof. We carefully stepped over to the edge, Umeme pulled out his binoculars and looked over the battle a couple of blocks down the main road.

“Ala’s ass,” he breathered, handing me the binoculars to look through.

I looked through the right lense, the main gate was being swarmed and even the Enclave wasn't gonna be able to hold out for too much longer against the raiders and their animals.

Not if we didn’t help out.

“Ready?” I asked Umeme, handing him back the binoculars.

“N-no,” He almost squeaked, “Remember what I said about tribals?”

Ignoring his words, I shouldered my rifle and after taking a moment to warm up S.A.T.S., took my shots.

BLAM! BLAM!

My first round took out a raider in the back of the crowd hiding behind barricades and sandbags, my second shot took out a wild dog which seemed to cause another raider next to it to fall back in the crumbling street screaming and spasming in pain.

Umeme took out a couple of mutated bats and two raiders before the raiders in the back of the crowd noticed they were being flanked. A raider with a shovel spear and his small lion charged up the street to us. With my S.A.T.S. still charging, I took a few shots the old fashioned way, but I kept missing. He was nearly a block away when his head exploded and he crumpled in a heap. His lion however stumbled and clawed at its head roaring in pain. I took my chance and shot it a few times with my third shot killing it. Umeme reloaded his rifle before pulling out a grenade from his saddle bag, pulling the stem he hucked the explosive as hard as he could at the crowd.

Ka-BOOM!

The grenade exploded and threw up dozens of bloody raider chunks from the crowded line, but this also had the effect of gaining the full attention of the surviving crowd. Our perch was suddenly peppered by bullets and bolts of magical energy as hundreds of raiders charged at us, but this took some pressure off of the Enclave.

Umeme and I ducked into the stairway of the store, Umeme pulled out a frag grenade and chucked it down the stairs around the corner.

BOOM!

The metal apple exploded and the heads of giant rats bounced up on the landing. A raider with a knife spear in her mouth rounded the corner with a wild dog. I quickly hip fired my rifle and splattered the dog’s brains against the walls causing the raider to stumble, but their momentum carried her knife’s blade into my shoulder where it caught on a strap of my pauldron, giving me just enough time to pull out my shotgun and jab the muzzle just under her chin, bits of her brain and skull splattered across the wall and ceiling.

Umeme took a couple shots with his shotgun at a couple of scaly birds that were trying to swoop into the stairway. I reloaded my rifle and fired at the raiders trying to climb the stairs.

Suddenly an Enclave soldier wearing a set of black heavy combat armor over a cloud gray and sky blue uniform swooped down, landed on our roof, and fired a magical energy rifle at the raiders down in the stairwell.

I ducked out of the way as the glowing green fire balls melted through the raiders’ makeshift armor through their flesh and bones liquifying a couple of them that coated the walls and stairs. Green mist wafted from the rifle’s emitter as the soldier pulled up their blue lensed goggles and glared down at us.

“What the hell are you two doing here?!” he shouted over the gunfire with an odd accent, “This is a fucking war zone!”

Before we could answer a bullet ripped through the soldier’s neck making him collapse. I rushed forward, pulling off his bulky helmet, I pressed my healing spell against the wound to stop the bleeding. The soldier looked up at me as my spell did its job, his eyes were filled with a range of emotions.

“There, you should be alright for now,” I said, releasing my hold of him, “But you might need proper treatment later for the blood loss.”

The soldier touched a wing to his neck, seemingly in disbelief. He pulled on his helmet and readjusted his goggles before jumping off of the roof and flying away to continue the fight.

“Ozzy, you need to get to cover,” Umeme called, he was firing at the birds in the skies. I hurried back into the stairwell, he glared down at me and muttered, “That was really dumb of you. The Enclave doesn't pay back debts.”

“I wasn’t gonna just let him die,” I shot back, reloading my shotgun.

“Still stupid,” he muttured, firing at a raider trying to climb the stairs.

I was about to berate him for his lack of compassion when another wave of raiders charged up the stairs howling for our blood. I loaded in my last incendiary shells, pulled back the hammers, pulled the triggers.

BOOMF!

Only for my shotgun’s receiver and chambers to explode in a shower of metal and fiery shot. I threw the twisted remains of my weapon down at the raiders and pulled out Light and my revolver as Umeme tossed the last of his grenades. Backing up to the roof I used S.A.T.S. to target the metal apples and fired a couple of shots.

BLAM! BLAM!

The apples disappeared in clouds of fire and shrapnel that coated the remains of the stairway, ripping apart a number of raiders. But they kept coming! How fucking many were there?!

Suddenly a sharp pain ripped through my chest, I collapsed on the floor, looking down I saw blood seeping out from underneath my chest barding. Umeme covered me as I pulled myself out of the line of fire, my breathing was becoming labored, darkness crept along the edge of my vision. I struggled to focus my healing spell, a single thought ripped through the slow fog filling my mind.

I was dying.

Suddenly there was an ear piercing shriek, looking up to the skies I saw a pegasus in midnight black power armor shoot out from the fort into the overhead clouds before dive-bombing the raider infested town. The remaining Blackraven tried to retreat, but the street suddenly erupted into clouds of cracking asphalt, twisted metal, and bloody body parts, both raider and animal, with another ear piercing shriek that slammed into our building shaking the foundations.

I held my ears and shut my eye, Umeme shielded me as best he could. I wanted to scream but no sound came out of my open mouth. When the shaking finally stopped I opened my eye and looked up, the battle seemed to be over. The town was littered in debris and bloody body parts and other unmentionable stuff. I fought back the sudden urge to vomit.

The midnight black pegasus swooped down from the sky and landed on our roof, his majestic armored wings folding to his sides, the gems of his magical miniguns glowing bright orange in the cold night air.

He pulled up his compound goggles onto his forehead and looked us over with a pair of amber cat-like eyes, “I’m Commander Sturmeye of the Expeditionary Corp of the Grand Pegasus Enclave, who are you two?”

Sturmeye? Like Sturmkaller? My mind felt like a sack of bricks as I fought to keep conscious.

“I’m Ozzy,” I weakly pushed myself to sit up, “This is Umeme… we heard your distress signal.”

“Whaddya mean heard-” The pegasus glanced down at my PipBuck, “Well, we appreciate the assistance, even if it was incredibly foolish.”

Exhaustion finally won and I lost consciousness.

Level Up: Gunslinger (level one): You’ve been watching those spaghetti westerns haven’t you? Your accuracy has improved by 10% when using pistols and revolvers in S.A.T.S.

Skill Note: Repair 45% (+10%)

Chapter One

Chapter One
“What do I want… I don’t really know.”

Gray walls.

That was my life in Stable Fifty-Two and the walls of my small bedroom were a particularly clean shade of gray… a testament to my boredom.

The annoyingly grating beep from the alarm on my PipBuck ripped me from the satisfying dream of Cobalt screaming my name under me. My foreleg slipped from under my blankets and stretched out as far as it could and after an annoying number of whacks against my bedside table to find the right button, it finally shut off.

I rolled onto my back and my dry lips smacked together a couple of times, the sour aftertaste of apple whiskey gunking up my mouth and tongue…. Should I limit myself to just four pints?

The throbbing splitting fire fucking my brain screamed in agreement.

Life in Stable Fifty-Two was built on routine, we all had a job we were expected to do over a shift of eight hours and any failure to comply deemed safisinate enough to be reprimanded resulted in a hearing and evaluation for a suitable punishment. If you did something minor like spilling food on the floor, you would clean up the mess and you’d get partial rations for a few days, but if you did something serious like rape or even murder, you’d be executed if you were lucky, but if the Overstallion hated you then you’d be banished to Recycling… til the day you died… then they would…

“Don’t think about it,” I ordered my brain to stop.

I was on Apple Shift and had an hour to shower and eat before my shift started, just like I’d been doing for almost fourteen years… and would be doing for the rest of my life… til the day I died… then I’d be…

“DON’T FUCKING THINK ABOUT IT!” I bitterly shouted at my brain, earning a hard loud knock on my clean gray wall from my neighbor.

I begrudgingly half rolled half fell off of my suddenly overwhelmingly comfortable bed, why are beds like that? I slowly dragged my hooves to stand and gave my body a much needed vigorous shake before plotting into my small bathroom, really it was a small closet with an old sink.

Wrapping the dangling cord in my pink magic and yanking it down, pale flickering light from the Stable’s overtaxed ancient spark generator filled the small space. Turning on the faucet, I splashed cold water in my face to shock my hangover away, not really succeeding. I glanced up into the ancient foggy mirror, a unicorn stallion with a shaggy dull bronze mane with a couple streaks of pale gold and a slightly white cream coat stared back at me with what everybody in the Stable always told me was my most distinctive trait, my bright pink eyes that almost glowed.

I pulled the cord again and plotted over to my dresser, opening a drawer I levitated out a clean folded stable suit, a full body suit of form fitting blue leather made comfortable by generations of use with tarnished gold accents like the Fifty-Two on the collar and over the left flank and the golden zipper, cutie marks were illusioned over the right flank by Quills, the Stable’s resident artist. Placing the clean suit over my back I headed for the Stable’s communal showers.

Stable Fifty-Two was built by Stable-Tec nearly two hundred or so years ago, nobody really knew for certain because the mainframe that kept track had been severely damaged a couple of generations ago and it repeatedly malfunctioned, sometimes it wouldn’t be caught and fixed for weeks, even months at a time.

Even so, our little home of just about a hundred unicorns and earth ponies just might’ve been the only life left in the radiation bleached world, but we were living on borrowed time…. Our resources were incredibly limited and our population was dwindling by the generation due to concerns about inbreeding, one of the previous Overmares or stallions made a rule that no two residents with a shared ancestor five generations back were allowed to have a family, now the rule is two generations back because pairing up was proving difficult.

A dwindling population also meant that massive sections of the Stable had been stripped of any useful material before being sealed off and abandoned to decay. The Living Quarters originally had six floors, Apple, Butter, Cat, Dog, Egg and Fox with each floor having close to a hundred rooms built for families of three to five, but Egg and Fox were scavenged and sealed off due to the radiation leaking in from the Surface and just last year Fox had collapsed which caused massive chunks of Egg to buckle and Apple through Dog had to be reinforced with support beams to prevent any further collapse, but the radiation is still leaking through, so Dog was abandoned a few months ago.

I lived in Floor Butter, it was the second least populated floor, mostly just older couples whose children grew up and had families down in Floor Apple, stranger though was that ponies still lived in Floor Cat, Security didn’t even bother going up there anymore. I passed a few of my neighbors, they greeted me politely enough but I knew they didn’t really like me, not too many ponies did.

Everybody knew the Stable was on the tipping edge of total collapse… and if anything critical broke again and couldn’t be jury-rigged….

“Don’t think about it,” I muttered to myself, passing an older mare.

“Good morning, Ozzy,” the mare half chuckled, “Talking to yourself again?”

“Morning, Ms Bitta,” I muttered, not meeting her dark cerise eyes.

“Hey, can I stop you for a moment,” Miss Bitta asked, brushing some of her curly blue mane out of her face, “I think my bulbs are on the fritz again, can’t get a lick of light from ‘em.”

Ms Bitta Blues had lost her husband to heart cancer a couple of years ago and their few attempted children had all been stillborn so she was on her own and she constantly made flirtatious gestures to me… despite the fact that I was taken.

“I’ll pass it along to Torch, he’s fixing the School’s projector today.”

“Ahh, come on, can’t you help poor little old me, please?” Bitta asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes flirtily.

“I’ll. Pass. It. To. Torch.” I reiterated forcibly, continuing down the hallway.

I heard Ms Bitta mutter, “Fucking Buck Rider.”

I didn’t pay it any attention, I’d learned long ago to not care anymore.

*** *** ***

I passed the Toilets and plotted down the stairs to Floor Apple which connected to the main hallway. I passed the Chapel and the School’s mural, it was supposed to be a crowd of happy kids celebrating the joys of learning. Quills always said she hated the piece so she tried fixing it with the few recycled paints she had left, but now it looked more like a crowd rioting against the teacher’s control.

I opened the door to the Shower’s changing room, it was full of lockers and benches to change in for the showers, hence the name, levitating my suit into my chosen locker, I stripped out of my smelly one before putting it in the hamper for Laundry to clean.

Due to our limited resources the Showers were unisex, since the Mare’s Shower just down the hall had broke when Mom was a filly, everybody was expected to behave themselves and all inappropriate activities were strictly prohibited.

Do that stuff in your bedrooms.

So perhaps, dear reader, you could understand the slight shock I felt when the door opened revealing an earth pony stallion pushing a pegasus mare against the old blue tiled walls under a shower and fucking her rump for all he was worth, the mare moaning madly, her stumpy and useless wings hugging onto him tightly.

After the brief moment of shock, I recognized the stallion as Dipper, a nurse from Medical on my shift who had a somewhat volatile marriage with the School’s Teacher, Mrs Polish, with a couple of kids who stayed with their grandparents. I recognized the mare immediately as Red Velvet, she worked in the Kitchens on Cat Shift and was the only pegasus in the Stable since her great grandfather died when we were kids.

After little more than a minute, Dipper grunted thrusting deep and covered Velvet's loud moan with his hoof as jizz seeped out of her rump, down her hindleg and spilled down the drain.

“Dude,” I muttered quietly under my breath, “Step up your game.”

I knocked my hoof on the doorframe and the couple fell ass over elbow in their sudden scramble to cover themselves before Velvet glanced up at me and sighed in relief, “Oh hey, Ozzy.”

“Vel, Dipper,” I nodded to them, plotting over to a working shower out of the hundreds that lined the walls.

“You got any brains left that soft skull of your’s?” Dipper hissed down at Red Velvet, “I swear you’re trying to get us whipped.”

“Hey, don’t buck it til you try it,” the mare whinnied, playfully nuzzling the stallion’s neck, “Though… I wish you’d last longer… like Pack It.”

“Shut up about my cousin, whore!” the stallion roared, roughly spanking the mare’s red rump, causing more jizz to spill out and earning a playful yelp from her.

I facehoofed, Velvet had an annoying habit of splitting her hindlegs to every stallion, and even some mares, in the Stable… married or not. Yes, including me… one time… long before Cobalt and I started dating. I often questioned if the mare had something seriously wrong with her brain or if she just loved being punished in front of the Stable? Her back, flanks and legs were covered in healed scars from Security’s cat whips and finally Mom was ordered to sterilize the mare, she already had eight kids! At least they were somewhat well behaved, considering that their mother was usually face down in bedsheets.

Actually, her oldest, Brownie Biscuit, was starting his job as a Pipe Crawler today.

“You won’t like it when it’s Hondo doing the whipping,” I muttered, Velvet’s grin froze.

Hondo was a very large earth pony stallion and one of Security’s Punishment Officers, one of the more… enthusiastic ones, once when a filly was caught bullying some other smaller students, her punishment was to have her cutie marks burned off and Hondo was up to dish out the punishment, he borderline molested the poor filly in front of the whole Stable. Her parents and siblings demanded justice but the Overstallion convinced them to stand down since Hondo was his grandson, but the stallion was placed in permanent reserve for the more heinous crimes now.

Like fucking in the Showers.

Even a mare like Velvet knew how sadistic and pent up the stallion got.

I turned on the shower and recoiled as the freezing water struck me, “FUCK!”

“Yeah, the heating talisman ain’t working today,” Velvet said, cleaning out her sore backside of the jizz.

I braved the water and quickly washed out my shaggy mane and coat. I dried myself off under a blower and pulled on my clean suit.

Before I left, I turned to Velvet and Dipper, “If you go about your business, I might forget to mention all of this to Officer Crosshairs.”

They muttered their thanks and Velvet asked Dipper, “You think we can have fun in the next meeting without getting caught?”

I shook my head as I plotted toward Medical, honestly it wasn’t really worth my time to report them to Security, Officer Crosshairs probably wouldn’t care anyways, though Officer Pykk would go all out punishing them… wasn’t worth my time.

Something that Grandma once told me crept into my mind, “Get yourself a nice mare and give me some great-grandkids already.”

I shook my head to silence Grandma’s voice, I couldn’t see myself being a dad, even if Cobalt might want a family one day. I didn’t like kids too much.

In the Stable your job was determined by your cutie mark and the few dozen jobs that hadn’t been abandoned yet were usually held by parents and passed down to their children. Unless if a resident didn’t have children then the job would be passed on to a chosen worker in the sector, that’s how Mom got her job as Head Doctor. Her cutie mark was a black scalpel slicing into a rosey red apple, so she was a nurse along with Grandma when the previous Head Doctor, Doctor Good Oath, suffered heart failure and was on his deathbed. Before he died he named Mom as his successor, much to the rage of his grandniece, Lolly Love.

In the rare cases when a kid developed a cutie mark that didn’t match either of their parents’ jobs, the kid was usually treated as though they didn’t exist. Goddesses help them if they had a cutie mark that meant they were to be a Pipe Crawler, an important, if not really smelly, job where you crawl through the bigger pipes clearing any… blockages.

When I was growing up as a young colt I often stayed with her in Medical, helping the nurses with patients every day before and after school. As every unicorn can attest to, magic isn’t understood universally and some spells might be easier for one unicorn to learn than another, for example, my job has honed my telekinesis to manipulate multiple smaller objects in different ways in unison opposed to lifting a single larger object. Flashseal, a unicorn nurse under Mom, can perform an anesthesia spell on multiple patients to their exact needs at once, but she can’t manipulate a scalpel to save her life unless she focuses really hard. I learned a few minor medical spells when trying to get a medical cutie mark when I was a colt, but after I went through the Cutie mark Aptitude Test, the C.A.T., when I took the necessary tests to work in Medical… nothing happened. I was incredibly confused and tried the test again and again and again, performing it perfectly each time. Finally the teacher had to stop the test and pull me away kicking and screaming, begging for just one more chance. Mom went back to her office and didn’t come out for days. A week and four more tests later, I was the only kid in my class who didn’t have a cutie mark, I cried myself to sleep every night, terrified that I was going to be sent down to Recycling.

Finally on the last test day, Hard Knock, an elderly earth pony stallion and one of the Stable’s gunsmiths, came up from Maintenance at the teacher’s request to test me.
Under the eyes of the Overstallion and Officer Crosshairs, Hard Knock carefully placed a bag of small gun parts and a schematics sheet of a 45 Auto pistol, the standard pistol of Security, in front of me.

“Give it a go, son,” the nice stallion said, patting my shoulder, “Don’t wanna be a blank flank forever, yeah?”

I stared down at the parts for a long time before I picked up the pieces and looked at the paper, levitating them in the way the paper told me to. After an hour or so and several tries, I had the pieces in the right order. I slid them together and the pistol was complete.
Hard Knock smiled down at me and my class murmured quietly, Cobalt came up and threw her forelegs around my neck tightly congratulating me. In my confusion I looked down at my flanks, a golden bullet over a seven pointed phthalo blue star had appeared.

So I was the Stable’s gunsmith.

*** *** ***

Medical was on the main floor with the Atrium and Living Quarters, but on the opposite end of the Stable with Security, Storage and the elevator leading to the Door.

There were only ten ponies in the whole of the Stable who had medical cutie marks: Mom, Lolly Love, Nixie, Stethal, Dotty, Bedsyde, Grandma Ulcah Cure, Stool, Flashseal and Dipper.

The doors had a trio of pink butterflies over a double red cross painted on the metal, it slid open and I stepped into the lobby, Bedsyde, a nice enough elderly earth pony mare, sat behind her small desk writing something down on a clipboard that a younger mare was telling her.

“And please explain to me exactly how it got there and no lies.”

The younger mare blushed like a ripe tomato and squirmed a lot, “I… uh… slipped in the… uh… Showers.”

Bedsyde facehoofed and scribbled a note on the paper, “If that’s how you wanna play it, go sit in a chair and wait for a nurse, I’m telling your parents about this too.”

The younger mare slumped off of the chair and went over to stand by a waiting chair, her hindlegs fidgeting a lot, slipped in the shower… right.

“Morning, Bed,” I greeted the nurse.

“Morning, Ozzy, came down to see Doctor Rose?”

“Yup, have a good day,” I stepped over to the younger mare, “Slipped in the shower, huh?”

Her blush deepened and she refused to look at me, instead staring at the checkered floor tiles.

“Want some help?” I asked close to her ear, “No questions asked, I won’t tell your parents either.”

She glanced up at me, I glanced at Bedsyde, luckily she had her back turned to us, I opened the door and gestured for the young mare to follow.

Medical was set up as a rectangle, with the lobby taking up a small square in the northeast corner, the patient room was an L shape, with three dozen beds lining the white and cream yellow tile walls with dark divider shades between each, the isolation room took up the northern side with a large reinforced glass window to see inside.

Today there were four patients in beds near the isolation room, an earth pony stallion with a brace on his foreleg, a unicorn mare that had bandages wrapped around her head and eyes, and another earth pony stallion that had an elevated hindleg wrapped in a plaster cast, but the source of the biggest distraction was the screaming unicorn mare giving birth with her incredibly worried earth pony buckfriend holding her hooves. Mom was between the mare’s hindlegs with Nixie, a bright yellow and orange unicorn mare, standing beside her handing her medical supplies.

“You’re doin’ fine, Marigold,” the buckfriend tried to soothe the mare, only for the mare to scream even louder and buck out a hindhoof and strike Stool, an older earth pony stallion, in his muddy brown muzzle.

“I would appreciate it if you reframed from harming my staff, Marigold,” Mom said in her usually flat tone.

I tapped the young mare’s shoulder and gestured to around the L to a small nook with a couple of beds, I pulled the curtain divider to give us more privacy. The young mare got on the bed, unzipped her suit, and pulled out her hindlegs, exposing her backside to me while, understandably, covering her crotch with her hooves.

“Ok, this might feel very weird, I’m going to reach my magic into your backside and pull out whatever’s in there, ready?” I explained, picking up a clean wash rag and holding it under her, I focused my magic around her backside and delivered an anesthetic spell to keep her as calm as possible, “On three.”

She nodded and closed her eyes and bit down on the pillow.

“One… Two…,” I said, quickly sinking my magic into her rectum, wrapping around what felt like a shampoo bottle and carefully pulled it out onto the wash rag, my magic on her backside changing quickly to a healing spell.

The young mare moaned softly through her clenched teeth and her legs shook slightly as clear fluid leaked from between her hooves and dripped onto the bed sheets before she collapsed on the bed, panting.

I turned away from her to give a little privacy as I checked the bottle, thankfully it was empty, I threw it in the medical trash and handed the mare a clean wash rag to clean herself with.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” she panted, shakily getting up, “Please, don’t tell my dad.”

“Just, don’t do it again, you’re way too young to do this,” I muttered, feeling a little disgusted for helping.

She nodded sheepishly and I stepped out from the curtains, only to come face to face with Lolly Love, an older unicorn mare with silvering red raspberry and azure striped mane and tail and a light grayish purple coat under her stable suit and lab coat.

“Well, I was going to help Tulip with her shower condition, but it seems you did it for me, Ozzy,” the mare muttered, her dark cerise eyes narrowing at me past her half moon glasses and with thinly veiled contempt she muttered, “It’d be best for you to remember your place, gunsmith.”

The mare brushed past me and checked on the young mare, I went over to Grandma who was helping the mare with the bandages. The nearly eighty year old unicorn mare brushed her long curly bright silver mane out of her face with her light grayish blue magic and adjusted her thick lensed glasses on her thin muzzle.

“Breakin the rules again, are we Ozzy?” she softly chuckled, nudging her skinny elbow into my chest.

“Just helping a mare through some embarrassment,” I muttered back, glancing at Tulip’s bed.

“Well, you know how Love can be, still sore ‘bout gettin’ shelved for Rosey.”

I smiled at my Grandma, Mom once told me after drinking herself half asleep that my biological grandma had died giving birth to my stillborn aunt and my grandpa hung himself in his misery shortly afterwards. So Ulcah Cure and her husband, Hard Plough, adopted Mom as their daughter.

“So, how’s Cobalt doing?” Grandma asked, fixing the bandages on her patient, “You two thinkin ‘bout havin any kids yet?”

“Oh, I think we're quite a ways from that,” I half sputtered, scratching the back of my neck with my hoof.

“Nonsense, I twernt much older than you when Plough asked me for my hoof, he was such a charmer, that one, could charm the apples right off the trees. I still remember when I delivered Rosey, all kickin’ and screamin’ and flailin’, shame Lewey didn’t get the chance to meet her second daughter though and Sauder did what he did. They would’ve loved you, cute chubby cheeks and all.”

“Well, maybe I’m not meant to be a father,” I replied, a little too sternly.

I looked away from Grandma and noticed that the isolation chamber was occupied, an incredibly malnourished and skinny earth pony colt sat on a stool while Dotty, a young plump unicorn mare, stepped around him wearing a protective suit with a gasmask over her muzzle scrubbing frothy soap into his coat, mane and tail.

Grandma noticed and explained, “Security brought him up a few days ago from Recycling, no idea what Rusty’s gonna do with him.”

I nodded, watching as Dotty scrubbed all sorts of filth from the colt, if he was from Recycling then there was a good chance he’d be sent back… if Security didn’t use him for labor.

Suddenly, the pregnant mare screamed again and her buckfriend dabbed a wet rag on her forehead, “C’mon, Honey, you can do it.”

After ten minutes or so, Dipper stumbled in and started helping Flashseal with the leg cast stallion.

Without looking up, Mom said, “Good of you to bother coming in today, Dipper.”

The stallion glanced at me before answering, “Sorry, Doctor Rose, the Showers were slow today.”

“You’re working through lunch for the next month.”

“Y-yes, Doctor,” he muttered, turning back to his patient.

“Ok, one last big push, Marigold,” Mom ordered the mare, she screamed in agony and soon the room was full of a foal’s cry, “It’s a colt.”

“A colt?” the buckfriend asked, Mom took the baby and cleaned him up and wrapped him in a dry towel.

“Yes, a healthy screaming baby colt, congratulations you two,” Mom said, carefully handing the bundle to the stallion and mare.

The room filled with clapping and cheer for the new parents and Mom turned to notice me, she gestured to her office and I followed.

Mom was very different from me, for one she was an earth pony, her once short curly scarlet mane and tail now had long streaks of fading copper and her creamy olive coat now look more like spoiled milk and her almost constantly half lidded apple green eyes no longer held their original brightness from when I was a colt. For two, she was nearing her fifties and was starting to show a slight slowness.

Mom’s office was an absolute mess, boxes were piled up to the ceiling, files and books were sloppily organized, old experiments sat in sludgy beakers and alchemy sets and her bed had been pushed into the corner behind her desk to serve as a chair, I glanced up at the wall behind her desk, sitting on mounted hooks and holders was the first gun I’d ever made, it was an old tranquilizer that Grandma had given me when the pump system had broken, she jokingly suggested that I make it for Mom as a birthday present, I tried my best and after nearly a full year, it was ready. Mom mounted it up on the wall and it’s been there for thirteen years now.

“Hard delivery?” I asked, carefully moving a cup of stale looking coffee and files to see her better.

“Sixteen hours,” she sleepily mumbled, placing her head in her hooves, “For while, I thought I was gonna have to cut it out of her.”

“Well, thankfully it didn’t come to that,” I half joked, stopping when Mom glared up at me, Mom could glare down the whole of Security if she had too, “Well, how’re other things going, did you try the Kitchen’s new apple cinnamon twists yet?”

Mom chuckled dryly, “Yeah, Plough brought some up for us last night, one of the few good things that came outta Velvet when she ain’t fucking some lucky buck.”

I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly, did she know about Dipper’s reason for his tardiness?

No, Mom might be good at reading ponies, but even she has her limits… surely.

“Which reminds me,” Mom muttered, reaching down to grab something in a low drawer, she pulled out a small lockbox and placed it before me, “Happy birthday.”

“Mom,” I started, looking over the small box, “my birthday was months ago.”

“Happy late birthday then,” she replied dryly, drinking from the coffee.

I frowned, looking over the lockbox, it was about the size of my hoof and almost too lite and there seemed to be no discernible way to open it, “What is it?”

Mom sighed, “Something I should’ve given you a long time ago.”

I stared at Mom for a moment, “Mom, is everything alright?”

She didn’t answer, instead she opened a file and started fake reading it, she always did this when she didn’t want to talk. And she didn’t want to talk way too often.

“Be that way then,” I muttered harshly, taking the lockbox and stepping out the door.

*** *** ***

While the Living Quarters were one of the largest sections in the Stable, the largest being Maintenance, the Atrium was the largest single room, the whole population could easily fit in barely a tenth of the heart of Stable Fifty-Two, six massive concrete and steel pillars shaped to look like what I always thought was a sick mochary of pre war trees held up the massive vaulted ceiling that was painted to look the sky full of happy white clouds, the walls were painted with scenes of happy little families enjoying happy little picnics in fields of happy green grass, instead of the horrific mutants picking over the decaying skeletal remains of our once prosperous nation flooded by endless seas of radiation.

Yeah… I’m fun to listen to.

I know that the murals were supposed to convey an element of happiness, but I always thought that the fading of the paint added a certain spitefulness to the whole room, like Stable-Tec had tricked our ancestors two centuries ago… and we were suffering down here for… for what?

“Stop thinking about it,” I ordered my brain, earning a few looks.

I stepped into line and spotted Tulip helping her dad to dish out apple oatmeal, I gave her a soft smile and the young mare blushed like a ripened tomato, almost spilling the bowl of oatmeal she had in her magic. Her dad noticed and yelled at her to go to the storage to get him something, he glared daggers at me as I collected a bowl of apple oatmeal and hay chips fresh from the Stable’s Gardens and a glass of clean water.

I took my breakfast and sat down at an empty table away from everybody else. I placed the lockbox beside me and ate in quiet for a few minutes before a pony sat across from me.

“Morning, Ozzy,” Cobaltstar cheerfully greeted me, the beautiful unicorn mare taking my hooves in her’s, “You doing anything tonight?”

“Probably, judging by your grin,” I joked, my fillyfriend’s grin widening.

Cobalt brushed some of her dark brown mane from her eyes and her light beige coat blended with her orange eyes and contrasted with the black Security stab vest and her blue stable suit and her 45 Auto pistol and billy club on her belt, though her cutie mark was a golden fifty-two on a dark blue five pointed star.

Naturally, she was in Security like the rest of her family lineage going back two hundred years when her forever-ago granddad, Sheriff Bronzestar, took up as Head of Security, now her aunt, Head Officer Crosshairs, was the Head and my perky fillyfriend was making her way up the ranks, though it would certainly take her some time before she had a chance to replace her aunt.

“Actually yes, I do,” she said, playfully reaching over her magic to pick up an apple chunk, “Wanna spend tonight together? The Gardens are planting fresh seedlings from hydroponics.”

I mulled over the thought for a moment, my grin creeping across my lips, “Anything else you have in mind?”

Cobalt squeezed my hooves and nudged my shoulder, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Dirty-Birdie.”

I swallowed my oatmeal and thought it over, “Ok, I’ll see you tonight.”

Cobalt leaned over the table and kissed my cheek, she waved a hoof as she hurried off to her shift, I watched her slender flanks sway and shift under her amor, when suddenly a thick gloopy ball of cold sludge splashed into the back of my head.

I whirled around and spotted my sudden assailant, a large earth pony stallion glaring daggers at me from across the eating area, Officer Long Stride. He was one of the largest ponies in the Stable, his ears brushed on most of the ceilings when he walked, he and his little troop of brainless thugs had bullied me back in School… slamming me into lockers or shoving pony pies in my face or trapping me in the larger air ducts… and the bastard never got punished because he had the good fortune of being the Overstallion’s grandson!

Although he wasn’t anywhere near as sadistic as his cousin, he had hard limits. His scarlet eyes glared daggers at me, I knew he was jealous of my relationship with Cobalt. I wiped the oatmeal from my mane and finished up before picking up Mom’s lockbox, cleaning my bowl and glass and heading to Maintenance.

*** *** ***

Maintenance was the second bottommost sector in the Stable, the entrance was just beyond the Gardens and the Atrium, the door being marked by a crossed green sledgehammer and wrench. Close to thirty stallions and mares worked in the cramped hallways and rooms managing every aspect of our limited infrastructure from the lights in the Living Quarters to the pressure in the water irrigation systems for hydroponics in the Gardens.

I opened the door and the slightly steamy heat wafted into the hallway, I stepped onto the concrete stairway and the door slid shut behind me. The stairway probably had close to five hundred steps dimly lit by flickering lights and a constant dripping of water from the overhead pipes caused tiny scattered patches of moss to grow.

“Morning, Ozzy,” Oily Patch, an older earth pony mare who worked as a Pipe Patcher, greeted me, her forehooves and utility barding stained by the thick tarry pitch used to seal the patches to the leaky water pipe she was working on.

I nodded to her as I continued down, beads of sweat rolled down my brow as I passed an earth pony stallion sitting by an open pipe with the end cap and a bucket, “Careful, Ozzy.”

A large ball of blackened sludgy brine was pushed out of the pipe and plopped in the bucket with a sickeningly loud squelch, a small unicorn filly covered in black gunky sewage poked her head out, “Hey, Ozzy.”

Holding my breath, I nodded to Kettle and his daughter, Spanner. I entered Maintenance’s main room, it was circular with tunnels running off like a clock, starting at the one position it was Apple, Butter, Cat, Dog, Egg, Fox, Game, Hay, Ink, Jewel and Kite, Kite was the exit stairway and the twelve position was occupied by a large cross wire reinforced window where the Head’s office was, though Ms Hammer must’ve been off on her daily tunnel inspections because Karbonn was sitting at her desk in her place. The elderly unicorn stallion glanced up from the terminal and noticed me, he sneered showing his few unbroken teeth. I personally hated the stallion, he was so uptight you could shove a lump of coal in his ass and in two minutes you’d get a diamond!

I didn’t like him.

I walked around the cylindrical mainframe in the room’s center, the ancient machine contained the talismans that regulated our water and clean air and power generated by the talismans deeper in the tunnels.

“Hey, Torch?” I asked the older earth pony electrician, he was checking on a fusebox, he mumbled something, “Ms Bitta Blues said she was having trouble with her lights, mind checking it out?”

“Yeah, I’ll get up there later.”

I turned away from the room down Egg to Egg Room Two, my gun shop, passing a pair of older Pipe Crawlers instructing a newbie on what to do.

“It’s easy, just climb in and push the grime deposits out to the other end, Patches will catch you, now get in there!” they roughly shoved the colt into the open pipe and he immediately threw up, “Try not to do that… too much.”

I passed a few workers in Egg Room One when suddenly a gas pipe exploded and shook the whole room.

BOOM!

A worker was thrown across the room to slam into the unyielding wall, everybody rushed over to her.

“Make room!” I barked, pushing through the small crowd, “Make room!”

I knelt down beside her, she was wheezing and blood was pooling on the floor from the large chunk of metal in her chest, I focused my magic around the wound and the worst of the bleeding subsided, she weakly murmured out a groan.

“Get her up to Medical!” I ordered two burly Pipe Lifters, they carefully picked her up and hurried down the tunnel, “Make way! Make way!”

“Great,” an elderly mare slurred to nopony in particular, “There goes our five day streak.”

“What happened?!” Karbonn shouted over the murmuring of the crowd, I left before anypony could say anything, continuing down to my gun shop.

My room was small, tucked in the corner of Egg Room Two, four workbenches lined the walls with a fifth forming a loose G, a single flickering light weakly covered the room casting heavy shadows and a large bookcase on the wall held a hundred or so books.

I plotted around my workbench and flicked on my lamp, putting Mom’s lockbox beside me. I settled into my old cushy chair and laid out my tool kit in the way I like them before getting started on one of Security’s pistols that had been damaged in the most recent Radmole attack.

I shuddered despite the heat, Radmoles were nasty mutated moles and shrews that kept getting in from the Surface, they were just about half the size of a pony, but that didn’t make them any less dangerous, covered in thick patchy black fur and thick leathery hides, missing noticeable eyes they instead had powerful nostrils to seek out their prey and had sharp knife like claws that could do serious damage to Security’s armor and beating them with batons only seemed to piss them off. Thankfully bullets were still effective, but the Stable’s stores of 45 Auto were running so thin that officers had to fill out mountains of paperwork for each bullet fired.

When I was a colt there were only four ponies in the whole Stable who had gunsmithing cutie marks: Hard Knock, Diamond Drill, Rapid Switch, and Slam Fire, they taught me how to read the ancient schematics left to us by Ironshod Firearms, the gun builders who made weapons for Equestria before the balefires. I’ve read and reread and re-reread the pages of the massive books again and again and again till one morning I realized that I’d memorized nearly everything so thoroughly that I’ve reassembled 45 Auto pistols with my eyes closed hundreds of times over, my fellow gunsmiths were incredibly proud of me…

But one by one, all of them died from old age till Slam Fire had died three years ago… and I was their sole legacy, the only pony in the whole Stable who could repair one of the only defensive measures we had against the Radmoles… that’s why Security mostly left me alone… mostly.

The 45 Auto pistol used by Security is a single-action, semi-automatic, eight round magazine-fed, recoil-operated pistol chambered for the 45 Auto cartridge used by law enforcement groups across Equestria before the apocalypse for its good balance of stopping power and accuracy compared to the 10mm cartridges used by the military.

The slide of the pistol I was working on had a bad dent in it which was locking it open and preventing the feeding of another cartridge. I took the slide off and took it over to Diamond Drill’s workbench and placed the slide in her press. Focusing my magic on the dent, the steel alloy heated up enough to bend it back into place, I probably should’ve replaced the part, but I didn’t want to file the paperwork. I reassembled the pistol and placed it in the bin with the others, my door slid open with a soft woosh.

“Morning, Ozzy,” Nimble, a very handsome earth pony stallion a little too skinny for his stab vest, greeted me stepping up to my desk, “Finished with our pistols yet?”

“Morning, Nimble,” I leaned forward on my elbows and grinned, “Just finished the last one.”

I floated up the weapon from him to see.

“Hey, amazing work as always, Ozzy,” Nimble looked over the pistols before placing them in a secure lock bag around his shoulders, “By the way, I ran your idea past Crosshairs last night, she said it probably wouldn’t be worth the material cost. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Nimble,” I muttered, waving my hoof dismissively.

It was a kind of bad idea anyways, the Stable used to have proper heavy assault rifles and combat shotguns… but the large stores of 7.62mm and 12 Gauge ammunition had dried up long before I was born and most of the remaining weapons were scraped for their raw material… before the Radmoles started attacking.

My idea was to convert a few of the heavy assault rifles to use 45 Auto magazines. I had been reviewing the schematics for the ancient weapons for the better part of the year, but it was proving tricky enough on paper that I had requested to pull out a rifle out of storage to work it out properly.

“Hey, I also saw what Stride pulled at breakfast, want me to run it past Crosshairs for you?”

“No need, I’m already thinking up a little… surprise for his pistol, maybe forget the firing pin?”

“Right, right,” Nimble smirked, he hated Stride too, “Hey, you coming to the game tonight? Sal mentioned it’s down in Atmo Scrubber Three.”

Some members of Maintenance and Security would play poker games in the harder-to-reach-places of the Stable. I would sometimes attend, but usually lose.

“Sorry, Cobalt and I already have plans.”

“Well, have fun then, thanks again for the work.”

As Nimble left, I watched his nice flanks and toned legs shift in his stab vest, his wife was a lucky mare.

Don’t judge me.

*** *** ***

It was another couple of hours before my door opened again. I was busy scrubbing down Rapid Switch’s old jigs, when I heard the telltale woosh. I turned around and saw my boss standing in the doorway.

“Ms Hammer,” I squeaked, standing up straight.

“Calm yourself, Darling,” the elderly earth pony mare waved a hoof for me to relax, I sat down at my workbench.

Ms Hammer was an admirable pony, always treating us with the respect of a large family. I didn’t really know much about her life, but from what some of the older workers told me her husband and only son had been trapped in Game Room Six when the tunnel had collapsed following a Radmole attack, the Overstallion had denied her permission from digging for days before she picked up her family’s sledgehammer and dug through the rubble herself… but she was too late.

I looked down and noticed a small colt standing behind the mare, after a moment I recognized that he was the colt from Medical, the one brought up from Recycling.

“Uh, what’s he doing here?” I asked, very carefully.

Ms Hammer waved the colt up and pushed him forward, most of his muddy green mane and tail were gone and he kept fussing with his PipBuck and tugging at the collar of his suit. His oily gray coat had been shaved down to barely a quarter of an inch long… but I noticed his cutie mark on his flank, a bronze bullet covered in green rust.

“For fucksake,” I breathed.

“That’s right, Ozzy Darling, starting today you have an apprentice,” the mare pushed the colt closer, “Be good now.”

“You can’t be serious!” I frustratedly called after the mare, but she shrugged and walked off, closing the door behind her.

I sat back in my chair and put my face in my hooves. This couldn’t be happening. After a few minutes I glanced up, the colt was still standing there very awkwardly.

I pointed a hoof to a chair, “Pull it over.”

The colt flinched but obeyed, he climbed up and kept his eyes glued on my workbench.

“If we’re going to be working together till the day we die, we should probably at least exchange names,” I said, extending my forehoof to him, he flinched again, “My name’s Ozzy.”

“Y-Y-Y-Y-Yarn… s-s-s-sir,” the colt stuttered, sheepishly.

“Do I look like an adult?” I muttered, starting to work on another pistol.

“N-n-n-no, sir, I-I-I-I-I-I mean-”

I raised my hoof for him to stop, “Yarn, stop, you don’t have to be so scared, are you alone?”

“Well…” Yarn looked down at the floor for several moments before answering, “Mom and Dad and Phibbi are still in Recycling…”

“Right,” I put down my tools and mentally smacked my forehead, “Sorry.”

Recycling was the unspoken aspect of Stable Fifty-Two, due to our limited resources nothing could be wasted… no matter how minute. I had never been in the section, but Mom told me that it smelled of death and despair and endlessness… whatever that meant.

I pulled out a schematics book from the shelves and started showing Yarn an introduction to the job. After an hour of teaching him about basic gun safety, I took out some pistol parts for him to assemble and after nearly three hours of correcting and demonstrations, the colt completed the pistol.

*** *** ***

With our shift over, I picked up Mom’s lockbox and took Yarn up to the Cafeteria, Grandpa was working his shift. Grandpa was a large custard yellow earth pony with a curly dusty silver mane and tail and a large drooping mustache and he wore a stained chef’s apron over his slight potbelly.

“Ozzy!” he cheerfully said, coming around the counter and hugged me tightly, he fussed slightly over my mane, “You really should let me cut it, a stallion shouldn’t have a longer mane than his mare.”

“Geez, Grandpa,” I muttered, embarrassed, “I’m not a kid anymore.”

Grandpa chuckled and pulled me into another bear hug, before he noticed Yarn standing awkwardly and looking around the Atrium, “Who’s the kid?”

I coughed in my hoof to get Yarn’s attention, “Grandpa, this is my new apprentice, Yarn, this is my grandpa, Hard Plough, he works here in the Kitchens.”

“N-n-n-n-nice to m-m-m-meet you, sir,” the colt mumbled sheepishly, extending a hoof.

Grandpa reached down and scooped him up in a hug, “So you’re the new resident, well welcome to the Stable and the family, if you need anything, just come see me or my wife, Ulcah Cure.”

To Yarn’s credit he weathered Grandpa’s hug very well, most ponies couldn’t handle more than a few seconds, he was put back down and he stepped behind me. We got in line and Grandpa handed Yarn a slightly larger serving of grilled carrots, hay beard and apples and a slice of apple cream pie, we sat down at an empty table and Yarn scarfed down his carrots and apples like he’d never eaten food before… I then mentally smacked myself because that was very likely the case.

I asked Yarn what his old home is like. He wiped his mouth on his hoof and took a moment before answering, he explained that his own grandparents had been involved in the Disturbance.

The Disturbance was the most turbulent time in the Stable’s history, when my Grandparents were children there were nearly tenfold the number of residents in the Stable and things were even more tense than now. A large number of ponies started asking questions about leaving for the Surface, but when they tried to, the Overmare at the time threatened to completely disable the elevator and trap everybody down here.

The Secessionists attacked Storage and took many weapons and armor as an all out civil war that lasted over a year happened as Security and Secessionists slaughtered each other by the hundreds. Every Sector was hit in some way, two of the Stable’s three spark generators had been crippled, our resources had been cut by two-thirds, the population had been devastated significantly and even the Overmare and her entire family had been executed.

The surviving Heads came together and decided that, to prevent another Disturbance, the few surviving Secessionists were banished to the newly created Recycling, where they would live and work in the decaying halls of the Stable’s lowest sector.

According to Yarn, Recycling barely got any electricity and clean water and only his grandpa, Distort, as the Head of the sector had a PipBuck. Interestingly, despite Security never entering the sector, crime was unheard of because everybody held a collective mindset to atone for their ancestor’s mistakes. He went on to explain that his parents and older sister, Phibby, worked in the School and were extremely proud that he was able to leave and join the Stable after the Overstallion and his grandpa took months to workout a trade.

I sat and listened to the colt silently when a pair of arms wrapped around me, Cobalt kissed my cheek.

“Hey, Ozzy, ready for our date?” She glanced at Yarn, who had his face buried in his bowl, “Who’s this?”

I coughed into my hoof to get the colt’s attention again and he glanced up, a tiny carrot chunk lodged in his teeth, “Cobalt, this is Yarn, my new apprentice, Yarn, this is Cobaltstar, my fillyfriend.”

Yarn wiped his mouth and glanced up at Cobalt awkwardly, “H-hello.”

“Oh, Ozzy, he’s so adorable!” Cobalt squealed, earning the attention of several tables, she stepped around and hugged him tightly, “You’re so cute, wanna be friends?”

Yarn, to his credit, weathered the awkwardness very well.

We ate and talked for a while before Cobalt decided to show Yarn around the Stable. He was stunned by the Laundry wing and Showers, he explained that in Recycling they didn’t waste water for bathing and washing. We showed him the Living Quarters, the Gym and the Gardens, though we could only show him through the windows to avoid contaminating the crops.

We were rounding the corner to Medical when we were stopped by a large crowd blocking the hallway.

“Security! Move aside!” Cobalt called over the wash of voices as she and I pushed into the crowd of bodies as I held Mom’s lockbox with Yarn following close behind me.

“How could she leave?”

“Why would she abandon us?” the hushed questions and quiet whinnies buzzed around me.

“I know she won’t no good.”

Who were they talking about? Did somepony leave? No, no, that was impossible.

The booming voice of Officer Crosshairs flooded the small space, “Please, stay calm everybody, I have the tag for every pony in the Stable, we’ll find Doctor Rose by the end of the day.”

“I didn’t know the Door could be opened.”

The words slammed into me and I stopped in my tracks, Yarn bumping into my hindquarters. Despite all of the chaos surrounding me, only one thought permeated my mind, Mom was missing? She went OUTSIDE? To the fucking SURFACE?!

“C’mon, Ozzy!” Cobalt’s magic grabbed my collar and pulled me forward, I was so out of it that I bumped into somepony.

“Who is…” the loud and cold voice of Officer Crosshairs asked from above me.

I glanced up and was almost muzzle to muzzle with the largest pony in the whole Stable, standing a full head and shoulders above nearly everybody else, her dark shadowy blue mane was tied back in a bun and were starting to silver due to her age and her robbin blue coat was covered in scars left by the Radmoles she crushed under her cloven hooves, the most striking of them being the long slash in the side of her large head that had claimed her left ear down to her left nostril. Her armor was reinforced with plates of recycled steel and Radmole leather and a silvered pelt of a Radmole Broodmother over her shoulder and Security’s Head weapon, an upsized double-action hunting revolver with a black matte finish with intricate gold engravings weaving over the frame and cylinder with the words, Against All Tyrants etched in silver on the seven inch octagonal barrel in its leather holster on her hip. The impressive revolver could effortlessly punch through Radmoles like they were tissue paper while 45 Auto pistols needed multiple shots unless specifically targeting weaker points.

She glared down at me with her narrowed shiny black eyes like I was a Radmole to crush.

“Auntie,” Cobalt thankfully caught the attention of the massive mare, “What’s happening?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” the massive mare answered, glancing between her and Yarn, “But why do you have these two with you, Sweetie?”

Ok, wow, of all the words that I could’ve imagined the massive mare saying, Sweetie probably was the LAST word I’d expect… it sounded very off-putting.

“We’re ah… showing this colt here around the Stable,” Cobalt said hesitantly, gesturing a hoof to Yarn, who was hiding behind her hindlegs shaking in his little hooves at the sight of the massive mare.

“You.” Crosshairs said, jabbing her hoof at me, “You’re Doctor Rose’s son, yes?”

Before I could nod, she grabbed me very roughly by my collar and dragged me into Medical, Cobalt stayed out in the hall with Yarn holding Mom’s lockbox as the door closed, locking out the crowd.

Two Security ponies stood guard in the lobby watching Bedsyde, she mouthed something to me but I didn’t catch it in time as I was dragged into the main room, a few more Security ponies stood guard questioning the nurses and patients, Lolly Love sneered a grin at me that sent a chill up my spine. A few ponies stood in Mom’s office, the Heads of the Sectors, Grandma and the Overstallion sitting on Mom’s desk. I glanced around the absolute mess of a room, most of Mom’s experiments were knocked around and I noticed that Mom’s tranquilizer was missing.

“Ah,” the Overstallion said quietly with an incredibly unsettling grin, standing, “The buck of the hour.”

The Overstallion was an elderly earth pony with a long white mane, tail and coat and his eyes and scroll cutie mark were a bloody crimson, according to Mom, he had a condition called albinism. I always thought he was incredibly scary when I was a colt… and now was certainly no different.

“You’re Ozzy, correct?” He asked rhetorically, of course he knew, I sat down beside Grandma.

“Yes…” I started.

“It seems that your mother has… committed an… unexpected crime against myself and the Stable. We’ve already questioned your Grandmother here and she claims that she had no prior knowledge of the good doctor’s crime, perhaps you could shed some light on this… most unnecessary event?”

I glanced at Grandma, her eyes were bloodshot from crying, “That would depend on what my Mom did.”

The Overstallion’s grin faltered ever so slightly, Officer Crosshairs stepped up, “Doctor Rose has left the Stable! She used a powerful paralyzing agent on the guard and some kind of override code to force open the Door and leave before reinforcements could stop her.”

I stared at the mare in utter disbelief before the Overstallion coughed.

“Surely, Rosey told her only son, her only true blood left, where she might’ve gone. Tell us and you, Ulcah Cure and Hard Plough will be spared any charges.”

I shook my head again, the Overstallion was getting visibly frustrated, but he kept up his hollow smile. He wordlessly nodded to Officer Crosshairs.

WHAM!

My eyes were filled with stars and my brain screamed in pain, I rubbed the spot and glared behind me, the fucking bitch had struck me!

“Look! I don’t fucking know where my Mom fucking went!” I shouted at the Overstallion and the Heads, “She didn’t tell me fucking shit!”

“He’s tellin the truth, Rusty Nail,” Grandma spoke up, placing her hooves on my shoulders, “We all knew Rose, always doing her little experiments and being lost in her own thoughts.”

The Heads all nodded, but the Overstallion still glared down at me before sighing, “I apologize for that… unfortunate outburst,” the stallion said sickeningly as he patted my shoulder like I was a little colt, “Can you forgive me?”

Before I could tell his oh so hoity-toity ass to, ‘Go fuck himself with a thermal lance,’ Officer Crosshairs grabbed Grandma and me and dragged us out of Mom’s office back into the waiting crowd. Grandpa had arrived and was standing with Cobalt and Yarn, who was still holding Mom’s lockbox.

“Scootal-pop, Ozzy,” Grandpa wrapped us in a big hug, “What’s goin’ on? Why the crowd?”

*** *** ***

I placed the lockbox on my bed and sat down beside it that evening. Cobalt decided to give me some space, taking Yarn to find him an empty room. I looked down at my PipBuck and flicked on the Stable’s music loop of ancient classical and jazz through my ear bloom. As I listened, my thoughts drifted toward the events of the day.

To be completely honest I didn’t really know how to feel about Mom’s disappearance. We didn’t really have what you could call a close relationship, if anything I was far closer to my Grandparents and we barely spoke with each other much beyond expected courtesies.

But despite how mysterious Mom was to me, something just wasn’t adding up.

Before the Disturbance, the sensors connected to the mainframe said that the Surface was still far too irradiated to support any reasonable amount of life. But when the Radmoles started attacking and they showed heavy amounts of mutation that had to be caused by exposure to radiation and other trace contaminants, it was decided that it was safe to assume that the readings were still at least partially reliable.

So why would Mom risk her very life taking on Security and the Overstallion just to end up dying a horrific death on the Surface?

I picked up the lockbox and looked it over again, why did Mom give me this damn thing? Frustrated, I threw it across my room, thumping against the wall and on the floor. I laid back on my bed and closed my eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“...what could you possibly mean…?” a feminine voice faintly demanded on the edge of my hearing.

“...it’s the hard truth, my Lady…” a second deeper voice echoed in response, “...won’t keep him alive for much longer… …not much that we can… …beyond dulling the pain for his comfort.”

“...anything we can do?” the first voice asked, a heavy hint of disparition lacing the words, “What about the…?”

“Inadvisable,” the second voice answered, slightly clearer, “If the projections are correct… …won’t be ready for months at least… …better to leave him… …for now at least.”

“Well, what about…?” the first voice asked in growing frustration, “She has to be ready by now.”

“Inadvisable,” the second voice tried to explain, “Her mind most likely wouldn’t survive the process… …better to…”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

My eyes snapped open, I was still in my room, and the music loop was still playing through my ear bloom. Checking my PipBuck it was close to three in the morning. Sitting up, I looked over to the lockbox… only to see a faint rainbow glow emanating from a crack in the lid.

I jumped up and quickly stepped over, picking up the strange box. I opened the lid and found… well… I’m not really sure what I was seeing, it was a rounded cube shaped device barely a third of my hoof with a trio of white, yellow, and red plugs on the bottom, and a small display screen on the front connected with a tiny gemstone emitter on the top.

“What the hell?” I mumbled, picking it up with my magic and looking it over, I noticed a small, incredibly worn label on the side, “Stable-Tec PipBuck Compatible?”

I glanced in the lockbox again and spotted a small note at the bottom,

My Ozzy,
If I’ve succeeded I will have escaped from the Stable for approximately ten hours now and not in a cell down in Security… or in Recycling.

I know that you must have questions and I know that I haven’t been the best mom to you. I’m not asking for forgiveness, but I can at least offer an explanation for why I had to escape.

The Surface is livable, but it needs a cure.

There are things in motion that I can’t explain right now, but this widget can at least explain how I escaped. Please stay in the Stable if you can, look after Grandma and Grandpa for me, and forget about me.

I love you,

Mom

I reread the note again and again. Glancing down at the widget, and after a very long moment of hesitation, I flipped it over and lined up the plugs with a spot on my PipBuck. The screen lit up and a label of an apricot in a circle appeared,

Magical Investigator Mk Four,
Apricot Computers of Monacolt,
An Orion Solutions Inc Company

“Orion Solutions?” I mumbled again.

The label disappeared and a menu popped up with a single entry, it was dated to nearly twenty-four years ago, just a few months before my birthday.

I clicked on the entry and the emitter hummed to life before the ghostly image of a tall pony materialized in front of me in the green light of my PipBuck’s display.

“Holy shit!”

I stood and looked the pony over, the resolution of the projection was incredibly poor, I couldn’t make out any real amount of detail, beyond that it had a long spiraling horn, so it must’ve been a unicorn.

“Rose, it’s been some time, hasn’t it?” I didn’t recognize the feminine voice, it was deep and had an accent to it I’d never heard before, “If you’re finally listening to this then you must know it’s almost time. I am eternally grateful, my dearest friend.”

“Mom, what did you give me?” I asked in awe.

“If everything has gone according to plan, I hope to meet you again where we all agreed to. Now I highly doubt that the Overmare of Stable Fifty-Two will allow a mare of your medical and technological skills to leave, so I did some digging through Stable-Tec and found something that you might just find… very useful.”

There was a long pause before the pony spoke again, “The emergency override code for Stable Fifty-Two is CMC3BFF.”

That hit me hard as the image faltered and disappeared, the emitter on the widget going dark. I sat down on my bed and thought about what I’d just witnessed. For hours thousands of questions spurred through my mind, but I kept coming to a single conclusion.

I knew how Mom escaped…

I could follow her…

Out onto the Surface.

*** *** ***

It took me a couple of days to get everything in place, acting out my day as usual, training Yarn and fixing and maintaining our room, pocketing a small tool set… I contemplated assembling a pistol and taking it with me, but decided against it, far too risky.

I bribed Snail, a simple minded stallion down in Storage, to lend me a utility pouch to hold a couple small objects like my tool kit. I also knew that Snail had a small crush on me, so after a little flirtatiousness on my part and a thankfully short amount of time in a closet together, I walked out with the pouch and a slightly sore rear end.

Don’t judge me.

Everything was going as well as it could until a knock on my door nearly gave me a heart attack, hiding the Investigator and pouch in my dresser before opening the door, I found Cobalt standing outside.

“Uh, hi… um… Are you busy, Ozzy?” she asked nervously, “I… uh… thought we could have some down time.”

“Uhh, sure, c’mon in,” she stepped in and we sat down on my bed, “So… uh, what did you have in mind?”

Cobalt shifted a lot, fidgeting with her stab vest’s buckles.

“How… um… are you doing?” she asked, not really looking at me, “I mean… with your mom gone and… um… possibly… well…”

“Oh, right,” I mumbled quietly, sweating slightly, “Well, um, I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it. I mean the Surface is flooded, right? Why would she leave?”

“Ozzy,” Cobalt placed her hoof on my foreleg and pulled me into a warm and welcomed hug, “No matter what might happen, I want to be here for you. If you’re having any difficulty, any at all, please… tell me, I’m here for you.”

I glanced at my dresser for the briefest of moments before nodding, “Thank you, Cobalt.”

She smiled back and leaned closer till our lips locked and our tongues danced. I knew Cobalt’s vest like the back of my hoof and the armor quickly fell to the floor. She pinned my hooves above my head, grinning her horn glowed orange and I felt a familiar pair of magical hoofcuffs manifesting on me.

Cobalt liked a certain amount of control sometimes, she leaned down and bit at my neck and I shivered and squirmed. She grinned, grabbing my zipper in her teeth, she slid down to my building erection, carefully unzipping and my cock and balls popped out, slapping Cobalt’s waiting lips.

“I love your cock,” she mused, kissing along the underside, sending a gleeful shiver up my spine, “It’s so… lively.”

Her magic glowed around my balls as her tongue slid up and down my cock, I focused my own magic on her zipper and pulled it down past her crotch and glowed around her petals till her juices slowly started dripping. She trailed her tongue up to my head and stuck the tip in my urethra. My breath sucked in and my balls clenched as I very nearly came there, but I just about managed to hold myself together. Grunting loudly, I struggled to refocus my magic on her again, massaging the petals harder.

“No fair,” Cobalt squealed happily.

Her magic manifested around my balls and squeezed firmly, the grip slammed me up on the knife’s edge, but I still barely managed to keep myself down. My magic thrusted in and out of her love tunnel, fucking her raw as she squirmed under my onslaught. She glared up at me, but then she clenched her eyes shut and screamed around my cock, her body clenched and quivered under her orgasm and her magic around my balls released with a loud pop, but I still was locked up in the hoofcuffs.

After coming down from her high, Cobalt grinned, straddled my hips and rubbed her crotch against my still hard cock. Slowly peeling us out of our suits and throwing them over her shoulder, she scooted her way up to my face and ordered me to eat her out.

I opened my mouth and her glistening pussy seated itself, my tongue plunged deeply into her warm dripping sheath, my magic focusing this time on her anus. She stifled her moans as her body clenched down on the intruder, spurting her juices onto my waiting tongue. Her magic vanished again with a pop and my freed forehooves reached up and pulled her down into a hug.

After she came down from her second orgasm, she scooted down to my cock and after stroking it a few times, lined up her pussy and slowly sat down inch by delicious inch till she straddled my hips again.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting this,” she slurred slightly, her pussy clenching down hard on my shaft.

She started bouncing up and down over and over again, leaning down to hug me tightly, from the new angle I was able to thrust up into her. Her mouth opened in a perpetual moan, her tongue slipping out with some drool. After a few minutes, I rolled us around so I was on top, my thrusts quickly getting more and more sporadic.

“Cobalt,” I struggled to say, “I’m gonna…”

“Inside!” she almost pleaded, her expression one of pure ecstasy, “It’s a safe day so let it out inside me!”

With my last few thrusts I slammed my hips against hers, my cock spurting several loads deep inside her quivering pussy. She wrapped her arms tightly around me and screamed out in pleasure, her hips softly thrusting on my quivering shaft. After I cleaned us up, we ended up locked in each other’s arms under my blanket as she smiled contentedly.

I laid there with her for probably a couple of hours, thinking about what I was about to do. I knew how Mom escaped and more importantly I could go after her. Maybe convince her to come back. It felt like a long shot, but… something was telling that I should try.

After I was certain that Cobalt was asleep, I carefully got up making sure not to disturb her. I pulled on my suit and collected the Investigator, my tool kit and pouch and was about to leave.

“Ozzy,” Cobalt’s voice made my heart nearly break again, glancing at her thankfully I found her still asleep, “I love you.”

I looked down at my fillyfriend, I loved Cobalt, I really did with all my heart. She was kind and thoughtful, sure she could get a little… rough sometimes, but she was in Security and to be honest, I kind of liked it when she got rough.

But I needed to do this, I had to find Mom. And I just couldn’t ask Cobalt to come with me out onto the Surface, if it truly was safe, no I couldn’t ask her to risk her life.

I kissed Cobalt’s cheek and left.

*** *** ***

I carefully made my way up to Floor Cat and knocked on my Grandparents’ door,
“Ozzy?” Grandma asked, glancing at her PipBuck, “Do you know what time it is?”

“I’m sorry, but can I come in?”

She stepped aside and I entered, their living room had a small ruffled couch, a coffee table and an old wicker chair. Small pictures hung on the wall of their parents and family who all died during the Disturbance, the only two pictures I really connected with were the pictures of Mom when she was younger holding me in her arms when I was born and of me when I got my job.

“What did you wanna talk about?” Grandma asked, sitting down on the couch.

Grandpa stepped out of their bedroom, beard trimmers in hoof. I sat down in the chair and tried to calm myself, this wasn’t going to be easy. But I had to do this.

“I’m going after her,” I explained.

My Grandparents glanced at each other before Grandma got up, she stepped over to the picture of Mom and me, “I knew this day’d come.”

Grandpa stepped back into their room and came back with a small saddle bag in his mouth, “You’ll be needing this.”

He plopped it down on the coffee table, I opened the flap and saw a canteen of water and two apples. I glanced up at my Grandparents.

“We knew you’d be going after her, this is all we can spare for you,” Grandma explained, coming over and hugging me tightly, “Just promise us you’ll be safe out there.”

“I promise,” I hugged her back, tears rolling from my eyes, Grandpa hugged us both, “Will you two be okay?” I asked, knowing the answer was very slim at best.

“Don’t worry about us, Ozzy,” Grandpa answered, hugging me tighter, “We’ll go down swingin.”

“I love you both,” I choked out, pulling away, “Look after Cobalt and Yarn for me.”

“How’re you getting out?” Grandma asked, “there’ll be a guard up there for sure.”

I wiped the tears from my eyes, I hadn’t really thought of that one, I was running on basically nill information and what I was planning was absolutely life threatening!

Suddenly the Stable’s PA system squealed to life with an alarm, “This is the Overstallion, all Security personnel report to Maintenance immediately, Radmoles have borrowed into the tunnels, this is not a drill, repeat, all Security personnel get your asses down to Maintenance now!”

The hallways below us thundered to life as Security got their asses in gear, I grinned slightly.

“I’d say that’s your out,” Grandpa said, offering me a chuckle.

*** *** ***

I stood there with my saddle bag of meiger supplies, my tool kit, a canteen, and my suit, staring at the massive cog shaped Door that kept the worst of the Surface away from the Stable. With the vast majority of Security busy with the Radmoles, only one pony stood in my way… and I knew exactly how to get around him.

Long Stride sat by the Door, extremely bored.

“Evening, Stride,” I greeted the officer casually, my horn glowing a soft pink as I carried my saddle bag beside me.

The stallion almost jumped up from the crate he sat on and brandished his billy club, clearly wanting something to do, “Was wonderin when you'd git the balls t’ go after yer Ma,” Stride slurred slightly past his club’s handle in his mouth, “Git on out, Buck Rider, Overstallion don’t want no pony near the Door.”

“But, Stride,” I whinnied, ignoring the insult, “If your glorious grandfather doesn’t want anypony near the Door, why’re you here? Shouldn’t you be down in Maintenance killing the Radmoles?”

While the stallion was very powerful, he was far from smart, it took him nearly a full minute before he was about to answer.

WHAM!

But the footlocker I was floating up behind him slammed into his head, knocking him out cold.

Earth ponies, never looking behind them.

I picked up his pistol and holster and checked it, thankful that I hadn’t removed the firing pin yet. I fitted the holster in place and stepped over to the console to enter the code. I was about to leave my home and follow Mom outside.

This was easily the craziest idea I’d ever had. Even if Mom and I didn’t have the best or even the closest relationship, I had to find her, because… because she was… well, even if she was a pretty shitty mom, she was still MY MOM dammit.

“STOP!” the voice of the Overstallion shouted over the intercom, “I order you to stop!”

“Fat chance,” I muttered, punching in the code.

“ALL SECURITY PERSONNEL GET TO THE DOOR!” the Overstallion’s boomed, “KILL THAT STALLION!”

Shit!

My hooves flew against the lever, prayed to the Goddesses that the code still worked and slammed it forward as hard as I could.

One heartbeat… Two heartbeats… Three heartbeats…

I was about to reenter the code, when an alarm rang filled the room along with a thunderous churning bang that drowned out the Overstallion. I flinched back when boiling jets of steam shot out from the ancient machinery, the room shook violently causing rusty pieces of steel to collapse onto the floor. A massive bolt holding the door in place screeched as it slid toward me and a heavy mechanical arm swung down from a slot in the side and latched on, an ear splitting screech of steel on steel sliced through the room and hurt my teeth as the door was pulled from its place and rolled out of the way.

The room slowly stilled and I stared at the void where the Door once stood guard, I’d done it. I could leave and find Mom.

“Ozzy!” the Overstallion shouted, “You’ll pay greatly for this traitory!”

I took a step over the frame and touched dirt, it felt like the stuff in the Gardens, but it was very cold and damp. The alarm rang again as the Door slowly rolled closed, it was about halfway shut when suddenly the door to the elevator opened and a dozen Security ponies bolted into the room, and for the briefest of moments Cobalt met my eye.

She held her pistol at the ready, but she hesitated for what felt like an eternity as all of my memories with her flooded my mind. That one time we planted a red dye pack in a load of bedsheets in Laundry, that time we snuck into the School and had sex on the Teacher’s desk, our first kiss… that time we got super drunk and she asked me to be her buckfriend.

Tears welled up in her eyes before she fired a single bullet.

BLAM!

I felt the heat on my cheek as it flew past me and hit something behind me. Just before the Door slid shut she mouthed a single word as the tears rolled down her cheeks, ‘Why?’

*** *** ***

With a deafened hiss and clang, the Door locked shut. Cobalt, my Grandparents, Yarn, and all of Stable Fifty-Two, the only world I had ever known, was irrevocably locked away… forever.

I closed my eyes and saw Cobalt’s tears… I had betrayed her.

But I needed to find Mom and she had a couple days head start on me.

Honestly, I can’t say what I expected the Surface to look like, but somehow this space just outside the Door didn’t feel like it. No, this was some kind of strange limbo of sorts, it felt like the water treatment rooms, cold and damp with the heavy smell of algae and chalk and rotting wood.

I flicked on my Pipbuck’s flashlight and recoiled back against the Door, I was in a tunnel roughly cut through dusty stone with rotting wooden support beams and long dead lightbulbs high on the curved ceiling, but there were also maybe a half dozen pony skeletons wearing strange tattered industrial equipment littering the floor. The outside of the Door was marred and had massive dents in it and thousands of red plastic like sticks with long black cords bundled together were sticking out of the stone walls around it, each stick had the word dynamite on it and there was a large rotting crate of the stuff sitting beside a skeleton.

I shined my flashlight on the black cords, it snaked along the uneven floor for a few dozen feet or so before opening to a fork with the cord snaking down the tunnel opposite me. I pulled out my pistol and held it at the ready. I shined my light down the tunnel and saw a massive amount of dusty rubble piled up to the ceiling, not getting through that.

I carefully made my way through the other tunnel and after maybe close to a hundred feet came upon a second fork with three tunnels, one had collapsed, one looked open and the last was barricaded by rusty sheet steel with a faded yellow diamonds with a dark purple warning symbol and faded text below it,

DANGER: Toxic Magical Byproduct Storage
Property of the Ministry of Arcane Sciences
DO NOT TOUCH, BREATHE or STARE AT.

“The Ministry of Arcane Sciences?” I mused slightly, the name seemed important, it wasn’t ringing a bell, but I decided to heed the warning and looked down the other tunnel, thankfully it really was open.

It probably took me another hour of making my way through the tunnels, though they snaked and weaved in seemingly random directions most had collapsed or were barricaded with more warning doors.

Eventually I came upon the black cord again on the other side of the first rubble pile and followed it for another few dozen feet before the tunnel opened up to a large circular chamber, the cord connected to a box with a lever surrounded by close to thirty pony skeletons huddled together in the center. I shined my light around the room, piles of other moldy crates and rusty machinery with wicked looking circular blades hugged the curved walls, it must’ve been a pre war mine.

Not seeing any Radmoles, I stepped up to the pile, some of the ponies had similar tattered equipment as the ones by the Door including sledgehammers, pickaxes, shovels and maybe close to three dozen moldy crates of dynamite! So the skeletons wearing the equipment were working in the tunnels when the bombs came down, but the rest were wearing tattered clothing, a few were really small too.

My PipBuck pinged at me, the Investigator’semitter glowed, switching to the widget the menu offered to Scan. Clicking the option, the gem glowed and a beam bathed the skeletons and equipment in green light for nearly a full minute before stopping and showing the apricot logo again with the words,

Processing Data,
Please Standby

After nearly another full minute my PipBuck pinged again, the menu presented a new entry, dated as the Last Day. I pressed the entry and the ghostly images of two ponies materialized before me.

“This isn’t gonna work, Bulk,” a pony urged a second who was holding the lever box, “Even if we’re let in, the Stable will be almost useless if we blow up the Door.”

“That’s the fucking point, Creamcake,” the pony on the lever box argued back, “We threaten to break open their precious little safe, those fuckers will be forced to let us in!”

The images disappeared, leaving me with a slight answer.

So, these were families running from the end of their world and trying to get to safety, even if it meant blowing up the Door. But despite their franticness, they ended up dying from a seeming lack of food and water and the radiation leaking in.

I took a moment to mumble pretty much the only prayer to the Goddesses I knew before carefully making my way across the room and down a tunnel with a rusty sign labeled Exit. After a few dozen feet I came upon a rusting metal door with a hanging open latch and a rusty padlock.

Mom always had a certain way with lockpicks.

I carefully pushed open the door and found myself in a small room made from old cinder blocks and a cement floor. A couple stacks of rotting wooden crates and rusty steel drums were piled up in the corners leaking gunky fluids.

So the tunnel entrance was disguised to look like a storage room…
And by disguised, I mean that the room probably was a storage room.
Fucking lazy, Stable-Tec.

I stepped through the room, and stopped at the wooden steps leading up to another rusty metal door. I wasn’t getting anywhere just standing here and I couldn’t go back to Stable Fifty-Two, taking a few deep breaths to summon my strength I climbed some stairs to the Surface. But I stepped into another room similar to the basement, it was mostly bare with a smaller number of rusty lockers in four rows with two long benches between, I could see two small windows of broken foggy glass head height up the front wall letting in cold air with a rusty metal door between. I took a moment to check the lockers, but they were all empty.

Stepping up to the door after a moment’s pause, I pushed it open to the Surface.

Level Up: Trait: Barn Door: You aren’t held back by what some people call Traditional Views, to you a hole is a hole. You gain +10% damage against opponents of both sexes in combat, outside of combat you’ll come across special dialogue options with certain people.
New Perk: Gun Nut: You’ve spent the last ten years fixing guns and looking over ancient schematics, you can repair any firearm you come across so long as you have the proper parts and all guns in your party’s inventory degrade at a 25% decreased rate.