Fallout Equestria: A Light Shining in Darkness

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.