Fallout Equestria: Ballad of a Rogue Ranger

Chapter eleven: A glimmer

How long I stared in to the fire, I didn’t know. All I knew is it was the dead of night, and I should have been asleep hours ago, but if I couldn’t, then the least I could do is let them get some shut eye. Both Deacon and Tumble lied down on the ground just across the fire, each snoring listlessly in to the night. Out in the open like this, as small as the fire might have been, it could still have been seen for a few miles I’d imagine.

Yet, even with that clarity, my visor stayed clear and the guns on either side of me remained quiet. That left me with nothing to do, but think… scary prospect, ain’t it?

‘Twenty-five years…’ it rang through my head once more, that was a long time, hell that was about as long as I had been alive… at least as old as I was when I stepped in to the that chamber and went on ice. “Does that make me fifty, or still twenty-five?” probably not the best question to be asking right now, or the most important.

Still, a lot could change in a quarter century… I mean, look around me.

It was a desolate wasteland, how long it had taken to get like that? How long after the bombs fell was it before ponies stopped trying to work together to survive, and only barely clung on to what savage nature helped them in this world? How much could a young mare go through after leaving the ice, and still make it in this world? 100 might have been an ice box, but at least it wasn’t full of questions. With that, the list kept growing… I’d get around to answering them when I could.

“So, you took my advice I see,” I heard the steady beep to my side as I turned and saw a Sprite Bot nearby, the front of it gazed to those sleeping before bringing its attention back to me, “and by the sound of things you’ve been pretty busy…”

“Ahh it’s you again… whatever your name is,” it was nice to see a familiar face, especially one that gave me some sort of direction. You know, even if I couldn’t exactly see his face presa, “though I had been working on the suit more, found some good parts for it.”

“I can see that much, it’s quite impressive… though I wasn’t talking so much about the suit,” I didn’t have to stay quiet for long for him to catch my drift, “Tune in to DJ-Pon3 sometime, you’ll get what I mean soon enough,” the bot chuckled for a moment as it bobbed in the air, “and it’s Watcher, by the way.”

So, Watcher ay? Yeah, that sounded ominous… “I guess I’d been making the airwaves then?” I mused, turning back to the fire. Face or no face, I could still feel the bots gaze upon me.

“Oh, more than you’d imagine… seriously, with what you’re packing I’m surprised more bands of rangers haven’t come for your head, let alone the Gunners,” he might have been laughing, but I could still feel that target on my head growing. “You made some friends though it seems, so at least there will be others to watch your back.”

An armored hoof of mine pointed to the odd ball out, “Well he’s a hired hoof, in it for the caps… so I don’t know about friend,” acquaintance? Maybe? Eh he’s not shooting me so that’s good enough, “her though, she’s been well so far, good shot too.”

The bot could have been trying to nod, or it might have just been its characteristic bob it always had. Either way, even through not being able to see the face of one I’d been talking too, I could still feel his mood and expressions. “You never know what you might find in these wastes… friend, foe… lover maybe,” that sounded like longing… maybe for a lover long past? “Find any leads though on your missing pony?”

“Yeah… but not entirely good…”

From there I relayed to this stranger the accounts of the last time I’d run into him, and what’d I’d learned from then on. Even going from meeting Tumble, poking around Drybank for a tidbit, prodding the Rangers there, making our way to Pasture Falls, upsetting more Rangers… running theme, right? To the lead of this Slaver mine, and meeting our resident gryphon… all the way up to me missing the mark by over two decades.

Watchers’ bot hovered there for a few moments, and while the silence wasn’t all that welcome, it had been a good amount to take in, “And you’re still planning on hitting the mine?”

“Might as well,” the idea rolled over my mind once more, “we’re already here… what’s the harm in poking a little deeper?” getting shot, blown up, turned to ground meat, lit on fire… do I need to continue?

“I hope you find something then… many still manage to survive these lands, even if they’re new to them,” that was nice to hear. Ponies were adaptable, and stubborn… if anything could survive in a post-apocalyptic Equestrian wasteland, it was an Equine, “Good luck out-”

Fizzle, and pop, there went the voice, and the bot itself.

As I watched the bot float off down the terrain, playing that awful trombone, I looked out to the path we had yet to walk. There was a number of things that could have happened from the moment she left the stable, and none of them in her favor, but maybe with a little luck… I’d at least get some closure.

***

The morning had been at least somewhat kind to us, and after another hour from when Watcher left, Tumble woke up and took over. Getting me a little nap in before facing this next challenge. It hadn’t taken long for us to make it the rest of the way, and as soon as both myself and Deacon woke up, we were on the road again.

The very wet road…

This rain wasn’t close to what I’d first encountered. Barely even a tick went off from my counter, then again, I wasn’t the one getting all that damp. Both my companions remained drenched from talon to wing or head to hoof as we looked at the few lights in the distance that the mine gave off. Tumble might have been using her scope to get a closer look at it, but even I could see what they had going on from this distance.

That was an operation if I ever saw one.

Towers had been erected around the dig site, each with its own light as it peered for any the likes of us. While between them cobbled together it looked like a make shift barrier of some kind. Maybe a few concrete slabs here and there, but mostly it seemed to be wood… hopefully.

“I’m picking out a figure or two up in those towers,” she relayed to us more info while keeping a close eye on them, “Hard to see with all this rain now…” the mare grumbled as she wiped what water blurred her scope. “Might have a better vantage from that hill, maybe a view over their wall?”

“If it’s hard to see them, then that’ll go both ways,” Deacon brought up, as his head started to swivel around, “I’m gonna take off, get a birds eye view… so to speak.”

“And I’ll-”

“You should probably hold up for a sec,” Tumble held her hoof in front of me, “Power armor ain’t stealthy, remember?”

I relinquished to that ever-repeating point… so with a few loose words in terms of a plan, I.e. wait for them to start shooting before I trot my happy self in there, both of them went to their respective positions. Deacon took off towards the sky before I even noticed, and Tumble slithered her way over the ground to play overwatch. How did those gunners even manage to pin her down when we first met? The way she moved; being in the wasteland that long would turn ya half zebra I suppose.

That left me… waiting…

It was one thing to wait not knowing what would happen next. It was another when you had a pretty good idea what would, and all you could to was stand by in anticipation. Not something I was the best at.

‘Ugh…’ I moaned to myself as I acted like an overgrown and well-armed paperweight. Granted, peace and quiet was nice compared to shot-up and loud, but one thing was for sure, ‘it might be a far cry from the world I knew, but if a bullet doesn’t kill me, this will.’ Unceremoniously the pebble beneath my hooves found its way swiped back and forth, before being catapulted with a slightly overzealous kick…

Then the first detonation.

With a snap, I looked off towards the mine and could see a few plumes of fire rising up even through the rain. Either Tumble shot something valuable, or Deacon still had some tricks up his sleeves.

Whelp! My turn to join!

After a short slide down the mound my hooves started to keep pace with my heart, thundering across the opening towards the mine… or was that actual thunder around me? Eh no matter, those rounds were very much real! A thin line of fire dotted along the ground nearby, though never made contact, and only kicked up chunks of dirt as it went. Just as Deacon guessed, it was hard for them to see too.

Thank the princesses for E.F.S… The wood gate ahead of me might have kept out a normal pony, but for that single red mark on the opposite side of it, mass was a really good thing to have on my side.

Too bad for him.

My shoulder made contact with the structure, and just as fast the rest of me punched through and plowed in to the one standing opposite. He hadn’t a clue what hit him, and as the stallion stumble to get to his hooves. The soft purr of my mini dotted along his chest… first one down, and many more to go!

The open mine dug out in the center from their towers, while on the sides of it was some sort of ramp cut from the dig site that led down. Made easy access to those watching over the slaves they kept, and with only one exit, an even easier route to cover. One path to follow, and a decent number of those defending their posts along the sides.

As I approached the edge of the dig, the semi-blue trails of EC rounds dotted along the towers, punching in to those that covered the area. One however, got a little too close for comfort. .308 was a lot larger than the 5.56 I was used to, and the rounds from his rifle cut in the armors plating. Not enough to cause worry, but surely enough to give me something to think about.

Ducking behind a trailer that once housed staff, I looked up to the figure as he did the same from his perch. Tumble hadn’t hit him yet, then again, that tower was made of wood… even with the rain, the fuel used by incinerators burned hotter than most. A quick burst of its muzzle sent the supports of said tower up in a blaze, and after a few seconds I could hear the tower waning as it creaked from the stress.

With a snap, the beams gave out and brought the tower, and the shooter down to the ground. His marker faded from the crunch as it slammed back to earth, and left me walking past the mangled remains of the lump that looked semi pony-ish… legs were not supposed to bend that way. Those across from me along the sloping sides of the mine had other ideas.

I didn’t have time to even see the flash as the missile took off from one side of the opening to the other where I resided. While the fall from this height might have not killed me, these servos were amazing in that respect. The blast was still enough to plunge me down a few levels, and even with the few warnings going through my visor of the shrapnel from the warhead, I still managed to land on all fours… or at least twos.

Stumbling to get my footing, I saw the culprit from above, as the mare handled the overly sized weapon from her shoulder and loaded up another round, while her friends alongside her lined up their own shots. Spinning up the barrels, the thin line traced across the surface from where she stood. Like I said, they were far better at Spray and Pray. That only resulting in them bobbing away from the spray back into cover. 5mm verses solid stone siding was not on my side…

Three shapes though joined them, as I watched the blue bar pass by for a moment, and mere moments after that those that tried to down me met their end after a few more detonations. The gust of wind that greeted me brought about the familiar face of the gryphon, as he reached in to his bag and plucked out another grenade.

“How many of those do you have?” bottomless bag it was looking like.

“Eh… enough,” just like that he tossed the one in his talon over the side, and we both were welcomed by the few yells of those below.

Steadily, with the heavy stomping of my hooves, and his far nimbler steps. The two of us went forth, trailing down the slopes to the mine and running in to those that he had picked off during his fly-bys. Someone had been very generous with their gifts, I just hoped he had more. Already a few more shots started to land around our path, and they were getting better with their mark.

Yeah, with my front leg giving out that kinda seemed obvious…

Half the suit dropped to the ground from the shot, that let me know this band of ponies may not have been as well armed as the gunners. Though they far outmatched any raider I’d seen so far. Ponies really were worth something if all of em were packing more than a .38! One across the way slung up a crude pipe rifle to his shoulder, and what felt like .45 dug into the chest plate before I dropped him with my own burst. Even if it was rudimentary tech, still quite effective. Just like that Molotov!

The bottle crashed over my frame, blanketing me in fuel that spattered against the falling rain. This time I didn’t have an extinguisher handy, and while it seeped on to the plating, I could feel the suit starting to heat up the longer it went. Either my armor was better insulated, or their fuel was diluted. Still, the sweat was starting to trickle down my neck, and as my head swiveled around, I chose the only route I had.

Galloping as best I could towards the edge, I leapt off the side, and let the rush of wind beat against the flames as the thinner fuel started to pitter off. Okay, this was a little further down than I expected! With a crunch I heard the front servo cave, and between the round I took, plus gravity being quite fickle. After landing the rest of the suit fell to one side, and the blaze subsided, leaving me to stare out at the few ponies there in almost as much surprise as me.

Armor integrity: 68%.

Not bad… and certainly not zero just yet! As quickly as I got back to my hooves, those there that joined me turned their barrels to the suit. Cycling their receivers like it’s all they knew, given what I’d experienced, it probably was. Kickstarting my own light show, the fuel poured out from the muzzle, draping over those that got a tad too close. As the stream began to sputter, ‘hmm… quarter tank’, yep… ammo hungry.

The ones that were smarter took that note and got in some cover behind older mining equipment, as I soaked up as much fire that the suit could take. Whether I wanted it too or not. A small ticking by my hooves begged for my attention, and just like that the metal apple rolled its way between all four.

Stomach armor wasn’t the best, a pony needed to breath after all, and true to that statement a dozen or so hornets shot through the suit and threw me off the ground. Laying in a front-end loader bucket, I could hear the rounds ping off its metal construction as it vibrated the metal. Gotta love Equestrian construction… never the less, that pony diagram I was seeing didn’t look all that happy.

Armor integrity: 59%.

Warning: Sternum concussed!

So that's what CPR by explosives felt like? Rolling, or flopping, as best I could. I fell from the basket and back on to the ground, and before my hooves even made contact the motor was spinning up and raking across them as if they were fall leaves. Leaning heavily to one side as my suit tried to repair itself, the accuracy was even worse, and more or less dug into the various cabins from machinery around the base of the dig site. It did keep their eyes off me, and not who they should have been on.

A few controlled bursts matched their wild and free fire, and unlike theirs, with every burst fewer and fewer slavers remained standing. The last one from what I could see out here in the open met his end with both a spray of 5mm and a headshot from 5.56 as it covered the side cab of a dozer in what looked like an exploding paint can.

Deacon fluttered his way down from where I took my leap, having gotten a clear vantage from above and using it to its fullest. “You still alive in there?” he tapped the top of my helmet with a talon.

‘About 53% alive I suppose…’ I headbutted the inside of my helmet, something I didn’t think I’d manage. At least I could feel the suit kicking in with potions, in a way I’m glad we hit that gunner base, gave us some means to stock- oh I knew that feeling, not doing that in here! Quickly the visor popped up, and whatever contents of my gun found itself across the ground, as the gryphon took a step or two back. I barely even had anything to upchuck?! “Ugh… stomachs not gonna sit right for a week, assuming I live that long… but I’ll manage…”

Without warning, the gryphon started to poke around the side of the suit. Tapping on different plates and running his talons across it. If he was finally deciding to stab me in the back, he was doing a piss poor job at it.

“Where’s your med port?” that made more sense, with a flip of the controls, the panel that held the chem pump opened up as he rummaged through his bag. Sliding a few more of those goods we picked off of the gunners, my reserves were well topped off for now, “that outa hold you over for a bit… assuming you don’t go being a bullet sponge.”

‘What? And break the trend…’ flipping the panel close, both me and him turned past the bodies we’d created. The joints of the suit starting to function fully once more, and I could walk now without it wanting to meet the ground again. “It’s not like I ask for it…” says the pony who is a walking talking billboard of hey shoot me!

All the guy gave me in return was a shake of his head. Someone was used to evading danger, and not outright letting it smack em in the face. With a tap of his talon to the shoulder, I followed his lead around those bodies and off to one side of the pit… a dead end. For a moment I looked to him, wondering if he’d be just as puzzled as I was. Though without question Deacon went up to the cobbled together wall of scrap and reached behind one barrel. I heard the click, and just like that part of the wall slid away. There before us was an open tunnel to the deeper part of the mine, and likely even more of our friends that we made up here.

“They hadn’t changed that out,” he checked the magazine on his carbine. “Well, we don’t gotta be subtle at least.”

“And close quarters is where this shines,” I nodded off towards the IF-451, that was the second time I’d been lit on fire… maybe this was karma coming back at me?

I might be doing better with a little heat now, but the fire didn’t so much care who could be too close. Deacons’ armor was rated for bullets and beams, not flames. A fact I kept in mind while both of us paced down the tunnels of the mine, while also hoping to find more fuel. The markings of tools from long ago still hadn’t aged a day it seemed, the only real difference between now and then was the skeleton or two that dotted along our path.

Nothing fresh, so that’s a good sign. Still, we hadn’t seen any sign of slaves though, not even outside. Cages, chains, or even a whip missed from our site… unless they had them further down this rabbit hole.

A quick hoof held up to Deacons’ chest plate stopped him, as I scanned ahead. The E.F.S. might be wonderful outside, and in most buildings. Though down here past all this granite, that was a tough one, even for the over engineering of pre-war Equestria. Never the less, one crimson bar popped up from down the tunnel as it straightened out. ‘Maybe line of site?’ it was possible, but still hard to tell with half the lights not-

The first shot pinged off the helmet, yep totally line of site!

That was followed by a few dozen or so more, as their shots skipped down the channel towards us. Either whizzing past over our heads, or causing puffs of dust from bouncing off the walls. The two of us dived towards whatever cover we could get, Deacon managed to get behind an ore cart, as for me, I had to make due with the rough-cut square in the wall. Half of me was exposed, but they weren’t good shots at the very least.

For a moment, the onslaught stopped, and there we had our opening. Using me as a shield, Deacon followed behind. Popping off his own rounds at whatever flash he saw, while I peppered the area with 5mm. Together, we weren’t sure entirely what we were hitting. All we knew was as long as we kept shooting, theirs seemed to die down.

After a number of more feet, we finally managed to break in to an opening. There those few slavers that once held their ground, dispersed in the area to continue their attack… or would it be defense? No matter, they were happily shooting at us, and I was inclined to defend. Deacon broke off from behind me, taking his own cover as I did the same.

Bouncing back and forth between a few of the trailers that probably housed office workers, it left us with a small maze to navigate, mixed with some of those slavers that joined us on the ground in the fray. Speaking of which, a very surprised looking colt poked his head out at the wrong time.

The chomp of his bit sent the buckshot scattering towards me, pinging off the plates and shattering one of the windows to the trailer. Another shot he tried, but before he could I gave him several of my own, as the small holes littered his unarmored chest. From across the structures, I could hear the short bursts of the carbine. Either Deacon had met his match, or the slavers their own.

Out from an open door, rolled an all too familiar site… a metal apple, this one with a red band.

You know… I was getting really tired of this.

As its shell ruptured from the charge inside, the mixture in the outer casing caught alight draping crimson flames across the area… namely me. Whatever increase in protection I got from that last upgrade, it sure was worth its weight in insulation. Those military issue incendiaries were no joke, and while it was getting toasty, my skin didn’t feel like it was boiling… just yet.

With a kick, the trailer door opened back up against whoever had tried to shut it, and returning the favor I matched their flames. The tank might be almost out, but from this close? I didn’t need much… okay now that was getting hot! Underneath my helmet I started to pick up the smoldering stench of burning fabric, and if the utility coveralls were getting to that point.

I wasn’t far behind.

Leaving the charred pony to their own demise, my clunky self ran between the trailers. For a brief moment I passed by a curious and worried looking Deacon, before charging at those he had taken shelter from. The trio behind their own generator might have been protected from the gryphon, but after a literal walking inferno at speed rounded their corner…

The first one crunched against the frame of the generator. Denting its metal shell along with cracking the stallions’ rib cage with a sound that rang down the tunnel. At first, those that flanked him tried to get in close. Something though, seemed to deter them. No matter, they were just as happy shooting me. One, two, and three slugs dug in to the shoulder plating. He must have been aiming at the neck, a careless miss on his part, and one that earned me a very terrified look from the stallion in question.

Slugs might have been more effective than the shot from earlier, but the armor stopped it thankfully. Still, I was still due for a bruise after that sort of shot. My mini spun and… totally missed him as he took off before it reached full speed. That didn’t stop his friend though, and soon enough something much heavier than me slammed in to my side.

Tumbling across the ground, I looked up and sighed a breath of relief. Good news, those flames had died down enough for that last tuck and roll to smother them, bad news, the same cart the other stallion had hit me with kept rolling… and pinned me against the wall. Fully laden with ore, after getting some speed there was little a pony could do to stop it. Now from a dead halt, and with a whole lot less breathing room. My hooves pushed against the cart, inching it till I could get out.

One colt leapt atop the cart, and lowered his own pistol against the visor. The first shot scratched the top layer, the second round cracked the tempered glass, and the third sent spalling in and against my face. I winced as some of the flecks dug into my eyes. If I couldn’t see, it wouldn’t take much more after that to do me in…

With a thump, that next shot didn’t come.

All I heard was the carbine popping a few more bursts rather close to me, “Don’t worry, I got em,” Deacon sounded off nearby, maybe right next to me.

“Thank ya… though do you have anything for this?” from inside the helmet, I popped the visor as he took a look, “How bad is it?”

He might have been wincing for all I knew, hard to tell between wanting to blink my eyes to clear them, and wanting to keep them shut so it stopped burning, “Ahh… just gotta flush those, wait one,” the sound of talons against the ground dissipated for a few minutes. Meanwhile I took that time waiting to get myself completely out from behind the cart, soon enough he was back and tapped me on the shoulder. The moment I turned to face him a bucket of water was thrown at me, and although it was slightly radioactive, most of those glass flecks found their way worked out enough for me to see now at least… sorta.

Armor integrity: 42%.

“Thanks…” I blinked several more times to get them loose, it burned still like I was in tear gas, but I’d make do while the water works went on. With the visor dropped, the suit had repaired it as Deacon found the bucket, that left us with just one place to go, “… so, further down?”

“As if we have any other place to go.”

“One did slip away, so they’ll know were coming,” then again, how could they not?

Moving down the only road to take, both of us kept our eyes peeled for anything else that might pop out. Plenty of side tunnels and sections had been carved out since the mine was in operation, and who knows how many more since the slavers took over. It wasn’t hard to imagine a random slaver taking a pot shot from anywhere along the line… unless we took them by surprise when we first arrived.

And yet, all… or at least most of the nooks and crannies were vacant. Granted many weren’t larger than three ponies wide, but at the very least I’d expected to find some poor soul standing in the shadows with a butter knife ready to pounce. The most we ended up getting was a few trip wire turrets linked up to shotguns or pistols. That first one caught us by surprise, though afterwards Deacon kept his beak close to the ground disarming them as they went. All the little scraps spent making them found their way in the suits hopper, and I could breathe for a moment while the suit marched on repairing itself.

Upon arriving to the next spacious area, one thing was made clear. This was the heart of their operation. From across the cavern both of us even in the dimmer light could see the slave cages and ponies miserably milling about inside. If Tumble was down here, I might have been able to get a better look, but for now we’d have to make do with what we got.

“Light em up!”

Oh… not good!

More spot lights flashed on directly towards our positions, attempting to blind us. A trick that I’d seen before already. Both myself and Deacon waded through the on coming fire by the fur of our coats, and for what seemed like the first time I came out nearly unscathed. Deacon across most of his side and hind leg looks like it’d been chewed up by a rabid dog.

Clenching his beak as we hunkered behind a boring machine, the gryphon started to fish through his bags. Pulling out bandages, and potions as he applied them liberally to his own wounds… I gotta say, he was rather handy with those medic duties of his. Working on 49% and letting Deacon do his thing, my sprays took to clearing some of their spot lights to give us a better target. With each one that dropped, and every fleck in my eyes that cleared from earlier, I got a better scope of what we were dealing with exactly.

Slavers dotted along the scaffolding, storage huts, and machinery of the mine. Front end loaders, drillers, trailers, and even a few ore sifters it looked like from what I read long ago. Each one seemed more rusted than the last, and nothing seemed to be freshly dug out. No matter their condition though, those heavy, overly engineered hulls left for great protection!

5mm bounced off the edges of a loading bucket that housed one pony, it might have been unable to go through, but it was still enough to keep a head or ten down. Those from above had the clear advantage as they worked the still functioning lights, and with myself torn between the lights to shoot better, and the ones actually shooting. I found myself hunkering down back behind our mound of ore more often than not. Armor or not, you don’t survive a barrage of fire that size for long.

“Well would ya look at that…” I felt a nudge from the gryphon as he waited for me to look, trailing across his barrel, we both took note of the generator off to the side.

They had to be getting power from somewhere after all. With a sly wink, the gryphon popped a few bursts from his gun at the machine, and with a fizzle and pop that resonated throughout the room, the spot lights died off. Leaving only the emergency lighting that kicked in.

How in the hell did that work after all these years?!

Together the two of us dived headlong in to the fray. With a single whoosh, Deacon took to the very low hanging sky and stumbled amongst those up in the scaffolding. Leaving me to work on the ones a little more ground level. My eyes still burned a bit sure, glass had a nasty habit of lingering, but at least with most of the lighting down we were all on the same playing field. ‘Wait a second…’ duh, I didn’t need to be on the same field. With a flip the helmet light turned on and basked the area in front of me.

Would it give away my position, yes. Though I was kinda obvious to begin with. Would it also blind any who tried to look directly at me to shoot, also yes… did that still mean I would get shot… what do you think?

Heavy clanking of a belt feed being loaded was more than an announcement of one’s armaments, the concussive bangs that rang even in my helmet were just a tad over doing it. Their aim might have been based off shoot at the pretty light theory, though the accuracy suffered… regardless, boy was that chipping away at the armor!

Armor integrity: 39%.

The slaving business must have been booming for them to afford weapons like this then! Snapping towards the spray, I sent my own in the form of fuel and went across the two manning their gun. As ammo thirsty as both my guns might be, they at least didn’t need the best accuracy to be effective.

After a sputter or two, the incinerator went dead… well, it was fun while it lasted. That left me the mini, and given how much I’d been using it lately today, a resupply was long overdue. ‘A few hundred rounds left… counting fire rate,’ mentally the numbers started going over in my head, I had either on decent burst to work with, or multiple smaller ones. Either way, ammo saving was the name of the game for now.

Three more opened up on me, one above and two on ground level. With them peppering, I charged at the two in front. The first got out of the way, the second was a bit more stubborn. Ramming the helmet in to his own skull at a full gallop, his body dropped to a heap and the daze of his eyes never saw the stomp of my own hoof to his throat. I could only imagine the colts’ fluids splattering across the plates in the dimness.

There was a very detailed wash in the future of this suit… given how much was caking on it.

The rounds from overhead stopped, just as my attention turned to the next pony that took off… oh it’s you! Slugs from the last area, how wonderful. The colt scampered from beneath the scaffolding, as a number of his cohorts came out from the wood work. These ones I could deal with, and although I might have had misgivings about killing those considered heroes to the Equestria of old, those that sold ponies in to servitude I held no reservations for.

Armored hooves flew in the faces of those that closed in trying for the kill. A mistake that they made time and time again. Granted, close in it was easier to hit some of the weak spots to the suit, joints and such, but that still put you within hooves length of Steel Ranger armor… I don’t know about you, but distance is always better when going against it. A few skulls cracked as I worked my way towards the pony from earlier, passing the ones I dropped to the side of me.

‘Where are you going?’ I wondered as I saw the colt pushing some of his fellows past him and on towards me.

He was heading towards some sort of shed by the cages, and while he tapped away at the terminal. I dealt with the ones he turned towards me. One mare brought back a fire axe with her horn and swung, having an aura holding your weapon up made it all the easier to dodge though in this kind of light. Craning my head back, the edge buried itself in the supports of the structures overhead. Leaving her more than open as she tried to tug it free, as my hind hoof bucked her square in the chest.

Driving her in to the body of the other colt Slugs had sent, the two of them lied on the ground for a moment too long. The mare was down for the count, the colt under her only needed a quick burst to finish him off, leaving me just one more to tend with. Many of the shots from around the area were getting few and far between, and if I wasn’t the one being shot at, Deacon was putting in that work then.

Slugs dropped his hoof on to one button as I approached, and grabbed him by the shoulder. Spinning him about to face me, a quick slug of my own to the jaw seized any and all motor function from his brain as his neck twisted far past what should be considered healthy.

Now that he was down, I had a chance to look towards those in the cage with a bit of a better eye. The light atop my helmet flickered, and steadily it swept across the faces of those inside. Dirt caked most of them, amongst the blood, bruises, cuts, scrapes, and obvious signs of assault that lingered on both the mares… and a few of the colts. ‘The wasteland really didn’t take any prisoners, did it?’ it was a stupid question to ask, given some of what I’d seen so far.

Ponies that ate one another, chemed themselves out of their mind and attacked the first thing that moved, traded their fellow kind for a couple of bullets and maybe a cap or two, would kill for just a piece of tech of the old world, and judging by the blinking collars on their neck the price of freedom could be a severed head by some C4…

Harsh reality of life now, wasn’t it? My head couldn’t help but shake at the thought, it was senseless for sure. Coming up on two centuries after a war, and we’d barely been able to get some sort of nation going in what amounted to small towns that dotted along the area.

Maybe one day we’d be able to come around and get back on our hooves, maybe one day you wouldn’t need a watch to stand guard while you tried to catch some sleep… maybe I’d even live to see that say, who knows?

“Don’t worry, we’re here to get ya’ll out,” I said through the suits’ coms, we were here for one of them in particular, but freeing all them was certainly a bonus… and did bring some sense of justice to the name I’d been given by the DJ.

A drop of something metallic brought my attention to two things. One, the terminal that Slugs was tapping away on was still operational. And two, something inside that shed was making a whole lot of racket. Approaching the terminal, I started to read through the flashing dialog… and I really hoped my eyes were giving me issue from that glass…

But alas, they seemed to have healed, and I was seeing things clear as day.

Command input accepted…

Startup complete…

Initializing Security protocols…

Creaking open, the front of the shed gradually widened and from the inside red beams of light met my own from the helmet. These ones however, already screamed the ill intent they had for our intrusion to the slavers den.

“Striped intruder identified,” I heard the chambers lock on its side, “lethal force, authorized.”

Sentry Mk. III, my visor read to me.

‘Oh… crap,’ was about all my mind processed before the missile pod on its side went off.

The bulk of my frame rocketed across part of the area, landing nimbly like an air dropped tank on to another pony. He might have helped break my fall, as I crushed him under the weight, but armor increase or not, that still fucking hurt! ‘Armor integrity: 25%’ I read off, and fought past the pain being treated by meds.

“Oh, I am so scrapping your ass for parts!” I shouted at the bot, as it wheeled out of the shed completely… you know, I don’t remember them having that many spikes back in the day.

A purr from the opposite side of the launcher started, and that was a sound I was all too familiar with. 5mm scattered around me, some making contact, and many others sending sparks along the various equipment from the area. Saving as much of my skin as I could, the trailer made for a decent piece of cover, giving me time to catch my breath.

The bot had its own sensors, much like an E.F.S. It knew where I was, just as I did it. One it didn’t account for however; was an ally I’d brought. Deacon sent a few bursts in to the crude plating that dotted along its head. That extra protection the slavers gave it might have stopped the 5.56, but it surely got its attention. In a flash the missile went out from its launcher, striking against the overhead of the mine and scattering chunks of rubble across the bot, forcing it to stumble.

“Deacon!” I shouted, looking around the area as I left my cover. To my relief, the rustling of feathers joined by my side.

“Don’t think I’d be done in so easily,” he chuckled, before both of us turned towards the bot shaking off the chunks of rock, “any ideas?”

These bots were used as guards for a reason… their overwhelming firepower was usually enough to deter even the foolhardy. Add the amount of platting the slavers did, and between my dwindling ammo supply, and even an entire satchel of grenades. It’d be a tough fight to run away from alive, let alone win.

More 5mm scatted between us, leaving our tails tucked as we dodged what we could. Whichever one Mason was in those cages, if he was even still in there, there wasn’t time to figure out. the spray of munitions from this bot had to be kept away from those captured at all cost. Otherwise this whole trip would have been for nothing.

Luckily, it saw me as a bigger target… however lucky that might be considered.

Our weapons might not have been enough to bring it down, though the more we bounced back and forth against equipment. The more an idea started to form, if I was going to be a distraction, might as well use it. The drill that had been used originally in the mine looked still somewhat operational, maybe not enough to move its frame, but enough to turn. I looked over the suits systems, it had cleared thirty by now given I hadn’t been shot in a few. Though with my legs still functional, the chance had to be taken.

“See that…” I pointed towards the equipment, as Deacon nodded, “think you can get it started?” yep, that was the stupid look I was expecting.

Though, with only a shrug the gryphon took off, leaving me to do the dirty work. Rolling out from behind the dozer, just as I thought its barrels were still pointed at me… oh joy. Whelp! Time to keep it that way. Both our miniguns spun and started the spray of rounds to match one another, mine going in a burst at a time, and the bots a near constant stream.

Between my own, I made sure to give the suit time to repair a percent at a time. Ducking in and out of cover, enough to keep the damned thing interested, but not enough to give it any- okay a missile throws a wrench in that plan!

The cinderblock wall I’d used blew out from behind me, leaving me spread across the ground of the mine. “Cheater…” I coughed inside the helmet, and that kinda tasted like blood.

Without any comeback it rolled through the rubble, and lowered its barrels towards me… just as the sound of an engine kicked off. An auger the side of a wagon started to spin up on the front of the drill, slowly at first as it kicked off the century plus of rust. Though you had to love that Equestrian over engineering.

Leaping up from my spot, both my hooves planted against the torso of the Sentry. Its barrels might have been long, but that made it better for range fighting. Up close, the only thing it could really do was take jagged swipes at me with its weapons. They might not have been boxer level punches, but my ribs were still gonna be sore tomorrow.

Grunting against the pain, my hind hooves planted firmly against the dirt and started pushing. At first the bot didn’t budge, but with enough umph and testicular fortitude… still nothing. ‘Sorry Deacon,’ I thought before toggling to the chems and shooting a dose of Stampede.

Boy was that ever a difference! No wonder they had ports for these, my eyes were probably pin pricks sure, but my plan was working. The wheels on its frame started to spin with no purchase. Steadily, it waded back against the ground, as I trudged past those slavers that fell and made this mine their tomb. All that was left, was to take out this last trash can.

‘Just a few… more… steps!’ the words repeated in my head, even after every step.

Then it finally paid off.

An auger that size was designed to bore through entire mountain faces in search of the black coal Equestria so desperately needed back during the war… hell it’s what kicked off the war in the first place. Against rock it was like cutting a cake, against a robot… have you ever taken a power drill to a stick of butter?

No?

Well, allow me to demonstrate… metal chewed away at metal, breaking off and bending all those neat spikes and plates the slavers had added to the bot to turn it in to their own. Once through that, the boring machine went to work on the inner shell. The matrixes and talismans on the inside were resilient, for the most part. This would be considered an exception.

Grinding against its frame, the wining of the servos inside cried out almost like it was in pain. Even while it swung at me still, the bot lost a lot of its strength with every second it spent against the drill. A pop rang out from its back, and sparks shot past my face, leaving the whole frame to slump down against me.

Stepping away, I let the whole frame fall, showing half its torso still sparking from the damage as bits of it hung from the mouth of the auger. It didn’t move, the lights in its head went off, and even still I stared at it waiting to come back for another go… but it never came.

“Effective, that’s for sure,” Deacon said as he fluttered from the cab of the auger and down to the bot, looking over the damage it’d done.

“Running low on ammo, had to improvise somehow,” my shoulders shrugged, and… I tripped. My knee hit the ground, and almost at that instant Deacon was there, “and take something to make it work.”

He already knew what I was talking about, and the gryphon just shook his head, “pop the panel,” he said, and I didn’t question it.

Just like that a needle was shoved in to the port, and across my entire frame I could feel half my system want to go at a mile a minute, while the other half urged me to take a nap damn near. “What was that?” I groaned from the ground, as a happy medium was being negotiated between the two sides of that spectrum.

“Benzodiazepine,” Benzo-diaz-what-the-fuck? He saw my bewilderment through the visor, “Gunners use chems too, and they’re well stocked to treat for it… this should help with your heart rate, get it under control.”

Yeah, combat drugs might be a tad addictive. Though if anything I’d have my chest cavity blowout before I got to that point. I turned back to those cages, and trying once again not to think of that, my hoof managed to point them out, “They got some kind of collars on them from what I’d seen, explosive I’d imagine.”

That didn’t even seem to faze the gryphon, and he pushed my condition to the side, “That’s usually how they deter riots… though there’s always some boss with the key.”

Boss? Hmm… “Try looking over the colt by the shed the bot came from, closest to the terminal,” I swear he could see the lightbulb that went off over my head, “he’s the one who activated the sentinel.”

All he did was nod, and beat his wings over to the corpse in question. “Twenty-seven rounds…” the display told me, that’s how close I’d came to running dry. Not a nice feeling to have for sure.

Checking over the bot, the missile launcher I might not have any use for at the time, but those 5mm it was packing would be more than welcome for my collection. They were meant for guarding, and who knows how long they’d have to keep shooting before back up would arrive. So, after popping the hatch to its gun, that rewarded me with at least enough to make up for what I’d spent down here.

Still, it’d be nice to get some fuel.

Minigun was loaded enough for comfort, parts from the bot were thrown in to my hopper, and the suit was starting its repair… I was a happy camper! Besides the thundering in my chest. With some pep I trotted over towards the cages, and watched as Deacon brought what I’d imagine was the command key to each of those inside. Now that bullets weren’t flying, I had a chance to actually take in more of those that were captured. Looked to be nearly two dozen, and while I’d heard the mutters of thanks going to Deacon. There was a different story for me.

Some looked over the suit and myself with distain, wondering probably if I was going to bring the guns on them when they turned their back. Even after saving them, all of them having a front row seat to it, a few still thought the worst of this armor and what it represented… and yet, by the looks of it though, one or two still managed to smile past the pain on their face at me.

I may be shot up, bruised, and had been lit on fire twice in the same day… but I managed to bring a smile to some in this world. If that wasn’t worth it, I don’t know what is.

“So what? Is he gonna shoot us now?” a colt pipped up, he didn’t even look a day over ten… though from the scars he wore, it looked like a life time of pain had already been inflicted on him.

A small cough kicked up from my throat as I cleared it, the gryphon however, beat me to the punch, “Take it easy now tike, he ain’t like the other rangers…” some of those he freed looked between the two of us. “He’s that Rogue Ranger you might have heard about, one of the good guys.”

I don’t know how much radio they’d be getting from down here, but even that simple comment put a few of them at ease. A click later and the last collar fell from the ponies’ neck, none of them had left since they were released. Probably wanted to scavenge a bit, princesses knows I would, but I had other things to attend to.

“While you’re all here however,” each of their heads turned towards me. “I’m looking for somepony, heard one who might have information was taken here… is there a Mason Jack in this group?”

It took a moment or two, but soon enough a single pony started to make their way forward, “… That’d be me,” the scruffy colt scratched at where the collar had been, “Though if its all the same to you, may we leave first?”

Now we were getting somewhere, and with no objection from Deacon, the three of us made our way back towards the entrance of the mine. Those slaves would have a whole area to loot now, and with all the traps taken care of, there shouldn’t be much for them to worry… hopefully they’d be able to get back to where they came from.

The route out was far shorter than going in, probably something to do with not being shot at. Though as we broke in to the light, from around the entrance of the mine I noticed number of bodies that had not been there when we first went in. Some looked like they’d fallen from the surface, yet chunks missing from them told me they’d been shot.

Another body fell against the ground, pancaking across the stone.

Each of us looked up, expecting to see more, but when none came, we continued up the slopes. At ground level now even more bodies littered around the area, some slumping out of windows, and others out in the open. Somepony had been busy…

“Ya’ll made it,” Tumble pipped up from the top of one of the slavers towers, before quickly getting to the ladder and sliding down.

“And you look like you’ve been having fun,” Deacon remarked as he took in the count.

“Well after you guys went in, I moved up, a few slavers came and tried to make their way down,” the mare looked over those same bodies, “again, tried…”

I’ll say… and after a snicker from inside my helmet, all four of us walked out of the fortifications that were set up, already pointing in the direction of Pasture Falls. After being down in a mine and having a bomb collar strapped on, I could more than understand Masons’ desire to get back home. For a pony who hadn’t seen the sun in a bit, he sure had a pep in his step. It didn’t take long after we’d left, and the mine was fading in the distance, before the appreciations had started pouring out.

“Seriously, thank you for getting me out of there,” he said… for the fifth time.

“It’s no problem at all,” I waved off to him, and kept my eye out on the road, “Though… I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”

“Ah yes! You said you were looking for somepony?” he perked up to my side, as both Deacon and Tumble trailed just behind us, “I mean I’d traded with a number of them over the years, so it might be a bit fuzzy… but I’ll try.”

“This pony should be a bit more… unique,” it didn’t take long to describe Winter. From how she looked, acted from back then, and given the difference in time… that she should be in her forties now.

Just like a switch, I saw the light go off in his head, “Oh her!” that sounded exciting, “I remember her for sure, nice mare… far more polite than any I’m used to.”

“You’re serious?!” none of them could tell, but my eyes were about swelling past the breaking point of the helmet, “you remember her? Winter Blossom? White coat, violet eyes, mint mane and all?”

A bit vigorously, he nodded to me. Even Tumble and Deacon looked surprised that he’d remembered her from all the ponies in the country to exist, each of them snapped their head to one another before going back to him.

“Well I’ll be damned…” Deacon looked like he could have slapped his knee with that statement alone.

“She said she’d come from some sort of cryo stable… went on ice just after the bombs,” oh that was more than promising! “I didn’t believe it at first, I mean who would? But with you here looking for her, there’s no doubt.”

“How long ago was this?” that was the important question, and I ignored the ‘I told you so’ Tumble gave our resident Gryphon about my history.

Mason looked up to the bleak sky, hopefully doing the math, “I’d say… a few months?... yeah, a few months ago, she came through town.”

A few months… that was a whole lot better than twenty-five years! If she’d managed to survive all this time, then what were her odds of doing so for the months since she was last seen? That gave me more hope than I had when I first even heard of other stable ponies trading. I could have straight up flown over Lunas moon at this point!

“How do you know her?” Mason asked me as we walked, “I mean I’d imagine you knew her from before during the war… was she family?”

That I’d heard before, especially when I’d go in to work and chat with some of the other coworkers. They always thought she was family at first, and no matter what the facts were, seeing her as such brought a smile to my face.

“In a way…” I beamed from behind the visor.

“Daughter?” he prodded a bit more.

That however earned a much-needed shake from my head, I was far too young to have a kid of my own back then! “Oh, absolutely not!” my hooves nearly left the ground at the thought, even after almost two centuries, I ain’t that old, “… she was more like, a little sister.”

Footnote: Level up.

Perk: “Heavy Gunner- Lv. 2”- Additional training at the bit has done well by you. Heavy weapons damage increased by 25%.

Note: This stacks with ‘Heavy Gunner Lv. 1.’