Chapter 1: A Night on The Job
Author's Note
Heya, my readers, and others. Never thought I would be writing a FOE story. Well, when you get an idea in your head that you grow attached to, it's nigh impossible to let go. So, here's my hat in the ring and I do apologize if this may seem short to some but it will kick up later on, I promise.
Anyways, I hope you'll enjoy this and the journey we'll be on. Keep safe and read!
Chapter 1: A Night on The Job
“Hot damn!” exclaimed a pegasus stallion, “This is quite a haul! Am I right, Sorbet?”
“Yeah, Drift Track.” Sorbet replied as they passed another hall, “How much do you reckon we’ll get out of this? I’m betting a few good sacks of caps.”
“Dunno, but it’ll be enough to get some decent gear and food for months if we play it right,” Drift and Sorbet approached a door. With a smirk, Sorbet put a hoof on it, “You should also watch your flank next time, moron. Ya done nearly got singed.”
“Not my fault that prick threw an incendiary at me!” yelled Drift, “I didn’t even know what it was until it hit the ground!”
“Be more cautious next time then!” growled Sorbet as he turned the handle, “You only have yourself to blame. Work smarter, idiot!”
Pushing the door open, Sorbet allowed Drift to enter first before closing the door behind them. Their treasure room was dimly lit amidst the setting sun, filled with trinkets and riches from their many robberies. Some of which were pried from the cold dead hooves of their victims. Their endless pursuit of wealth and material gain left many who got in their way dead.
As they turned around, Drift spotted a faint light in front of them and behind a desk. With a flip of a switch, they were shocked to find themselves face to face with a griffon. Blond hair green fur, and sporting a leather jacket, he had his legs rested on the desk as he took a draw from his cigarette. Drift and Sorbet were shocked to see an intruder in their safe house.
“Hmm, took you two long enough.” said the griffon as he took another puff, “You both nearly bored me to tears.”
“Who the fuck are you?!” said Drift with anger, “How did you find us?!”
“I cased the place,” chuckled the griffon, “All it took was a little time and patience.”
Out of the corner of his eye, the griffon saw Drift begin to unholster a gun. With a smirk, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular object with a small button. The moment Drift and Sorbet saw it, they froze in their tracks. It didn’t take them long to figure out what it was.
“I would seriously advise against that,” said the griffon, “If you do, I’ll push this button and well… you can guess what’ll happen next.”
“Damn it.” Drift grunted as he relented in defeat, “Okay, who are you and what do you want from us?”
“The name’s Arcturus Aquila,” Arcturus replied as he drew a handgun, “Let’s just say that I’m here on business.”
“What kind of business?” asked Sorbet.
The moment he saw Arcturus smirk, Sorbet’s heart began to beat at an elevated rate. Anxiety, anger, his blood was starting to boil. Still reeling from the prior fight sent him steadily climbing to the brink. Growling with increased volume, he hastily reached for his pistol, ready to make a kill. However, it wasn’t to be.
The second Sorbet cleared leather, a loud bang echoed throughout the room. Within seconds, Sorbet fell to the ground, a lifeless corpse. Drift Track was shocked as his comrade lay dead next to him and drew his gun in response. Noticing it, Arcturus shifted his sights to Drift and held the detonator high to make it known. Drift found himself in an unfavorable situation.
“Now now, there’s no need for that,” said Arcturus, “I’m only here for you and not your idiot partner. I’ve hidden the bomb somewhere you can’t find it. The way I see it, you have two options: drop your gun and kick it toward me. If you don’t, I have two ways to kill you and neither of them will be nice. So, what’ll it be?”
Anger with a few dashes of frustration and fear, Drift Track calculated all the possibilities. After much deliberation, he realized he was in an unfavorable situation: defeat. With a scowl and a growl, he reluctantly complied. He dropped his handgun to the wooden floor and batted it away from him. The sight of Arcturus’ smile was like a mocking gesture to him.
“Good,” said Arcturus as he got up. He swept the gun behind him with his hind legs and kept his gun trained on the raider, “Now, you asked me a question.”
“Yeah, wiseass!” growled Drift, “Who the hell are you and what do you want?!”
“Well, my profession is quite simple, Mr. Track,” Arcturus answered as he circled the raider like an observant creature, “My job is hunting down scumbags such as yourself and removing them from the wasteland. I do it all freelance… if the caps are good.”
“You’re… you’re a damned bounty hunter!” shouted Drift, “So, which settlement between Ironvale and New Elysium posted the bounty and for how much?”
“That would be New Hoovendale who sent out the bulletin,” sighed Arcturus, “750 caps dead, 1000 caps alive. You can guess which one you fall under.”
In an instant, a spark of fear surged through Drift’s mind. His eyes shot wide open as if he saw something he wanted but was the opposite. He knew that he would be given the treatment of a quick drop and a sudden stop. As a raider, he didn’t much fear death but the humiliation of being put to the gallows was a different matter.
“Let’s see what you’re guilty of,” said Arcturus, “Caravan robbery, arson, murder… and rape." He took a heavy sigh and nodded, "Wow, you’re a real piece of work here, bub. The only reason why I won’t shoot you here and now is not only you’re worth more that way but the thought of you being hung like the scumbag you are makes me smile.”
“Screw you!” screamed Drift, “You sick bastard! Is that how you get your kicks?”
“Well, seeing scum such as you removed from the wasteland is my motivation,” Arcturus brushed Drift’s head with his tail, causing him to flinch in anger, “What a shame. You’re not half bad looking… for a raider.”
Drift’s cheeks turned a noticeable shade of red. Arcturus was putting some moves on him. Part of him thought the griffon to be legitimate about it or an outright lunatic doing so for kicks. He just kept circling him like a predator fixing to attack its prey. He didn’t dare to move or risk getting shot or blown to meaty giblets. He didn’t know which was worse.
“Nice rugged looks with an attitude to match,” Arcturus hummed with a sly grin, “I have no doubt you’d make both stallions and mares all hot and bothered.”
“Screw you!” Drift blurted out, angry and frightened, “I-I~ I’ll make you regret this! I swear!”
“Oh, I don’t believe you’ll have the chance to,” Arcturus held his gun under Drift’s chin. Frozen like a statue, Drift stood in fear as he felt the warmth of Arcturus’ breath getting closer, “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t be as bad as you think.”
Just as the warm breath got closer to his cheek, he felt a concussive slam on the back of his neck. The shock of which caused him to blackout and slump down onto the floor, face first. Smirking and nodding, Arcturus broke out into a burst of hearty laughter, rapping his head on a wall.
“Oh my goodness!” Arcturus continued to laugh, “Oh, you should’ve seen the look on your face! Priceless! Your cheeks were beet red! That thing was really my lighter!” After another round of laughter and a puff of smoke, Arcturus produced a rope and unwound it. First his back legs and then his front, he was hog-tied, secured for transport, “Don’t worry, it’ll be but a quick drop and a sudden stop. I doubt you’ll feel much after that.”
Walking outside and to his waiting motorbike, Arcturus tightly secured his bounty to it before hopping aboard. He gave the engine a good revving before speeding off into a landscape graced by a setting sun. Dirt and old remains of foliage long gone, it was a sight that evoked many emotions and also became a reminder of the consequences of a war long since ended.
It was a while before he found civilization made up of scrap metal, wood, and ruins of the old world. A wall of metal had surrounded the area that was guarded by various creatures, ready to shoot at a moment's notice. With a sharp whistle and claw wave, Arcturus was granted entry into the settlement.
“Thank you, Comet!” Said Arcturus as he parked his bike.
Turning to the bound and gagged bounty, he undid the straps and let him fall to the ground. It was enough to stir Drift to consciousness but when his sight darted around him, fear and dread gripped him. Desperation compelled him to thrash around and let out muffled curses that were only answered with the force of a slap from his captor.
“Quit acting like a colt and accept your fate with some dignity,” Arcturus sighed. He lifted Drift onto his shoulder and walked into the sprawling courtyard of New Hoovendale. Lively with interactions between the residents, it made him smile with satisfaction. Having read stories of the old world from his father, he saw such things as a sign of hope that things lived on, undercut by the reality of what happened, “Come, let’s get this done, shall we?”
Approaching a building on the far west end, Arcturus opened the door to a small office where two stallions were playing cards. Once they noticed he was there, they dropped their decks, clearing their throats. One, a unicorn twice Arcturus’ age, readjusted his hat.
“Arcturus,” The unicorn greeted, “I see that your hunt was a success.”
“You know it, Tin Star,” Arcturus dropped a still screaming drift to the floor. The sight of which amused Tin Star and his partner, Ledger, “It wasn’t that difficult. They got careless.”
“I see,” Tin Star hummed, looking up and down the tied-up criminal. His smirk elicited a fearful tantrum from drift, squirming around, “Tough luck, Drift. Maybe you should’ve thought about that before what you did to Chrysanthemum.” He then turned to his partner, “Ledger, take this… filth to the holding cells. I want him ready for the gallows within the hour.”
“Sure thing,” Ledger grunted as he dragged Drift away, “Quit yer whining.”
“Heh, they always sing like birds,” Tin Star hummed as he grabbed a satchel on his desk, “Here you go. As promised, 1000 caps for bringing him alive.”
“Thanks, Tin,” Arcturus nodded as he put the sack in his pack, “I’ll be sticking around until the morning. Let me know if there are any bounties by then.”
“There’s going to be, for sure.” Arcturus turned to the door before being stopped by Tin’s hoof, “Do you want to watch the execution later on?
“Nah,” Arcturus sighed, “Not my thing.”
“Suit yourself. Take care.”
The cool early night breeze brushed against Arcturus’ coat as he walked out. As the night became more pronounced, the lights of the settlement shined brighter. Signs of brightly-colored neon-filled the ambiance of the environment around him. Though it was pleasing to the eye, he had business elsewhere, Mixwell’s Saloon.
It was only a short walk from where he was and the place was already lively. Music, chatting, and the occasional argument, there was always something going on. In some capacity, life from the old world carried on, for better or worse. Though he’d been to many in his lifetime, Arcturus found Maxwell’s to be his favorite for its charm.
“So, it’ll be the usual, Arct?” Maxwell asked.
“Yep.” Arcturus agreed, “Double whiskey, no ice.”
“Got it.” The mauve unicorn used his magic to levitate a glass and a bottle of whiskey, filling the former half-way, “Here it is. What’s the occasion?”
“Getting rid of a scumbag, the usual.” Arcturus nodded as he took a sip, “He’ll be put on the stage tonight.”
“Wish I could but I have to keep things here running,” Mixwell smirked, “Still, you did great. Are you going to see it?”
“N-no.” Arcturus sighed, taking another sip, “I… I still have those nightmares.”
Trauma is an experience every creature seldom desires to experience if they could help it. Though one may physically recover, the mental scars may persist and Arcturus is familiar with it. If asked, he would chalk it up to the build-up of all the stuff he witnessed over the years. But, a scar over his eye painted a different picture.
“Still shaken up over… what happened?” Mixwell asked cautiously.
“Yeah.” Arcturus sighed, staring at his drink, “I try to keep myself together but I still get the nightmares from time to time.”
“Must be rough.” Mixwell sighed back, “The fact you keep going is… I dunno what to call it, honestly.”
“Yeah, me neither.” Arcturus slammed the rest of his drink in one gulp, shuddering at the rush of alcohol. He shook his head on reflex from the burn of his drink flowing down his throat, “Damn, what a rush. Anyway, I got to get some rest. I have a busy day ahead of me.”
“Righty-o!” Mixwell nodded as Arcturus got up, “I’ll be here early tomorrow.”
Walking outside, Arcturus lit up a cigarette and took a long draw. The feeling of the smoke and nicotine filling his lungs made him wince slightly but soon expelled the smoke with a slow exhale. Any stimuli from his vices were a welcome distraction from the memories of long ago. It was part of the reason why he enjoys being kept busy. To him, no matter what, any rest invited the demons to haunt him.
Wandering a ways away, the sounds of jubilation grew louder and he paused, still like a statue. Though not directly, the corner of his eyesight caught a good enough glimpse. A figure was left to dangle from a construct to a surge of cheers from a nearby crowd. It seemed to struggle until the only way it moved was from the swinging. Another surge of joy filled the air.
“That is why you have lost.”
Hearing but not seeing, his memories came again with the rushing force of a tidal wave. Heart pulsing, sweat dropping, and head feeling light, he struggled to move but his fear held more sway. His will and fear dueled and clashed in an intense display until the former managed a slight lead, enough for Arcturus to snap out of it.
Fight or flight kicking in, he ran as fast as his legs could go, trying his best to reach a nearby inn. Once it was in his sights, he barged in, not minding the fact he spooked the innkeeper and a few other patrons. Still shaking from his episode, he haphazardly dropped a small pile of caps and struggled to get up.
“J-just this night, please.” Arcturus stammered.
The innkeeper shot him a look of worry. “Uhhh, up the stairs, at the end of the hall, straight ahead.”
He said nothing, not even the faintest of whispers. He did his best to rush up to his room, struggling to keep balance. The sight of his bed gave him only the slightest feeling of relief. Despite it, he couldn’t find rest, only physically struggling. The only thing he could do was wear out his brain and hope his eyes would shut.
“Please… stop…” He gasped, face buried in his pillow, “No…”
Save for light sobbing, Arcturus managed to physically tire himself out, keeping his eyes shut tight. He silently prayed for the dream to disappear but knew it would all go unheard. Managing a bit of rest, all he could think about what he could’ve done differently if it was possible. But, he had to keep on going… no matter what.
