Fallout Equestria: Ballad of a Rogue Ranger

Chapter fifteen: Lighting the keg

So, story time… when I was in school still, I wasn’t what you would call one of the most popular colts. Sure, I was nice to others, and if they needed help with work I tried. Though, I never quite fit in anywhere to one group. That lead to a very large learning gap when it came to mare and colt interactions.

Clearly, going on ice and waking up here hadn’t helped that gap…

“So, just a friendly face?” Tumble raised her brow, trying more to entice this subject as she cooked up… something, rat maybe? “Not many ponies would smile at that suit like she was.”

Largely I tried to ignore her, and instead watched Deacon as he organized his medication satchel. Anything to take away from the mare currently snickering at me from the living room of our little burned-out abode. A mare was easy enough to ignore, a hound was a different story, and the laugh from our canine friend sure carried in the night. Probably scared some of the guards too now that I think of it.

“Wild probably blushing under helmet,” Riff chuckled, holding her rifle close now that it was back in her paws. “No wonder he not take off suit since we got back.”

Well, at least Riff was rubbing off on Tumble a little now, even she got humor out of that one. Granted, the more they brought this up, the more my cheeks were getting red. “Like I said before, ran into her while getting ammo the first day here, chatted a little, and she took interest in the tech,” a simple enough encounter, though I’ll leave out the bit of her cleaning the suit up with that spell, if only for my sake, “a friendly face, that’s all.”

“A friendly face who’s inviting you to their room…” Tumble just winked at me, “not something you hear too often from ponies, especially who’d just met apparently.”

“Or she’s trying to stab him in the back,” Deacon piped up from his medic duties for a moment, and earned him another smack to the back of the head from our resident mare. “What? I’m just saying, that suit would fetch a good price.”

As right as he was, I’d rather not let it come to that. Still, what could she have for me? “Regardless of the intent,” Tumble rolled her eyes at the gryphon, “she sure looked pretty peppy once her eyes went back to ya, Wiley.”

Call it fond memories, though that certainly brought a snicker from me, and another set of looks from those around our little fire. “It’s nothing…” I popped my visor to get some of that wonderful wasteland stale air, “just been a while since I’d heard that name…”

“Wiley?” Tumble perked, and scratched the end of her chin, “well your face isn’t as red as I’d thought.”

“Who call pony Wiley?” Riff mused, “Other mare?”

She wasn’t wrong with that guess, and it seemed time to catch our newest addition up to speed, “Whelp, where to start…”

“Motherfucker!”

Well now… that was some vibrant language for a young mare. Granted, if I just took a hammer to the hoof I’d probably be preaching to the same choir. Thirteen or not, I just hope Lilac didn’t hear that, otherwise both of us would be getting our mouths washed out with soap.

“Steady there Winny,” I told her while looking through my tool bag, ‘I know I have some in here somewhere… ah, there ya are.’

Flicking my horn over to her, the up and coming mare caught the wrapping with her other hoof. “Okay, so I let that one slip,” que the eye roll, “she’s not around though, so I think our coats are safe.” Just like the champ she was becoming, Winter wrapped up her hoof, and got right back to it.

This time a little more careful with her swings.

Granted, I could have thrown this irrigation piping together in half the time than doing it by hoof, you know after some much needed studying up on the matter. However, Winter did insist on helping with Lilacs’ Garden project. Let’s face it, she was getting good when it came to pipe work. Especially after that last incident. Plus, I was getting strawberries out of it, and what's not to love about that?

It’d probably taken us the better part of the morning to lay out all the piping, and on top of that to get it cut. It was a simple enough design, rainwater collected in a barrel off the back gutter of the house, and a valve on the base allowed it to flow to the different garden patches. The hardest thing to figure out was how the hell Winter still hadn’t gotten a cutie mark yet. After all the work we’d been doing over the years, you’d think she’d get at the very least a plank of wood and a nail.

But alas, even as a teenager, she was still picked on for being a blank flank… though that stopped pretty quick after she beat one of the colts… sorta. ‘Surprised she never got one with boxing gloves while younger,’ it crossed my mind for a moment, before I got back to the task at hoof.

With everything more or less set up, myself and my assistant set about hammering home the clamps around the piping. Winter took care of most of the actual hammering, though my horn handled the sealant. Lilacs’ garden was already a pretty good size to begin with, though with this up and running now, that just made less trips the older mare would have to take… you know, when the shelves were actually stocked still.

This damned war had been going on for nearly ten years now, and neither side could see over the horizon to the end in sight. Most of those elites that made up Canterlot didn’t have to think about the shortages of goods. It was the working-class pony like myself who felt most of the rationing, at least depending where you resided and the local supply of goods. However, for a mare that’s been retired, and in a smaller town like this one? Goods could still be expensive to come by.

But that didn’t stop the warm nature of a particular mare.

“You two look plum tuckered out,” Lilac spoke from her back porch, as she balanced a pitcher of water with lemon wedges.

Time sure does fly when you’re having fun, or getting injured, and before either of us knew it the noon sun had long past and it already looked like I should be getting ready to make dinner. “Much appreciated,” I raised my glass to the mare, and promptly downed about half of it in one gulp.

“Well now, if you don’t have much left to do…” Lilac looked around to all that we’d actually accomplished. The piping was largely coming together, and really there was just double sealing everything, then connecting the barrel to the gutter. My nod answered her, “would you like me to set an extra space at the table?”

The mare really did know the way to a colts’ heart, “Oh you are too kind,” I tipped my head to her.

“Though I can start cooking now if you think you’d like to stop soon.”

“Ya me and Wiley here can get it knocked out here soon,” Winter jumped in at the last second, all too eager with that hammer of hers.

“Give it another-” wait… Wiley? Both myself and Lilac raised our brows to the mare nearly in tandem, “Where’d that come from?” I asked.

“What?” the younger mare just shrugged at us, “you been calling me Winny for years now, you didn’t think I’d come up with something for you?”

A soft giggle grabbed our attention, and there Lilac tried her damndest to hide the smirk that grew past her wings. “Now ain’t that cute,” she snickered at us again, before setting the pitcher out with us, “I’ll get right too it then, and will grab ya when it’s done.”

That left me just smirking at the young mare myself, “Really now… Wiley?” I started to chuckle.

“Cut me some slack now,” Winter went back to the barrel and started rolling it over to the side of the house, “There’s not many names I can make with Wildfire ya know.”

Couldn’t argue with that one, plus I was in the same boat when I gave her Winny. Now that that was out of the way, we both got back to work. I was already looking forward to whatever it was our host would throw together.

“Who Winny?” Riff started scratching the back of her head, “special pony friend?”

At this rate I needed to put it on tape just so I could replay it, thankfully, those amongst us had already heard the story and why I’m out here. I didn’t even have to say a word. “Wild was frozen back during the war,” Tumble answered for me, “in one of those stables you’d probably run in to.” Or probably hadn’t if she spent all her time down in the tunnels.

“As for Winny, real names Winter… Blossom?” Deacon hit it right on the head, “they went in that stable together, though when he woke up, she wasn’t there.”

It’d taken the better part of a minute or so, at least enough time for Tumble to finish half of her dinner. Until steadily, Riff Raff looked at myself all over, before she just shrugged. “You ponies really weird…” she started to shake her head, oddly not even questioning the absurdity of it all, “I take it you look for Winter?”

“Well she’s the closest thing I have to family, like a sister I mean,” I corrected her earlier assumption.

“Humph… Well if she out there, Winter have great bodyguard when find her.”

Ya know, the pup had a point. Power armor would make most creatures quiver, minus chemed out raiders apparently. So, where ever she was, when or if I tracked her down, there would be some hefty firepower watching over her shoulder.

“What pony do after?” our hound proposed, “After find what happen to Winter, better or worse… what we do after?” her eyes looked, almost, a bit worried at the prospect, “seem we following where you lead, what about after nowhere to lead too…”

I… hadn’t thought of that.

Part of me was in the mindset that once I found Winter, or what became of her, everything would just fall in to place. I’d be around her, maybe at some settlement, Rangers wouldn’t be able to find me, and even the gunners would eventually lose interest. Everything would just fall back to how it once was…

Back to a world that doesn’t exist anymore.

There wasn’t much else I could do but shrug to the pup, “I’m not sure… really.”

Around the room the response seemed to be largely shared amongst those I’d picked up along the way. Our mare looked as if she was pondering the same question, as did the gryphon. Tumble could just keep to her name sake and go where the wind took her, Deacon was a merc by choice and could follow the caps, even Riff would be able to find her place eventually after I reach the end of my path. Another pack might kill her, and although being out on her own might paint a target on her back. There wasn’t much that could take her kind on.

I guess the real question was, would they leave?

“Awe hell,” Deacon chimed in, tearing a bit of the ‘rat’ Tumble passed off to him, “Wild’s got a good adventure going for him so far, and a decent amount of trouble to follow…”

Gee, thanks.

“… I’m sure there will be something that keeps it interesting,” he concluded.

Yeah, keeps it interesting… ‘like having an entire army after my head,’ I thought, looking in to our fire. As for after this little journey was all said and done with, we’d just have to cross that bridge whenever we came to it.

For better, or worse.

***

“You know this would be better with a scope,” Tumble grumbled from her vantage as she looked from the window to the courthouse.

Really now, I didn’t pick where she had posted up, and all she really had going for her was Rogues gift and her .44. Yet still, she looked out at the courthouse as described in the contract. Most of the courtyard in front was dug in and used the fencing as its biggest defense, besides the turrets of course… because no matter where you went. There were always enough of those to go around.

Even from our view a few dozen yards from that point, out an old apartment ground floor, I could still see the random guard or two poking their head out from the windows of the house. The building itself looked more intact than I’d expected, with only a single corner collapsed, I’d call that improvement on the usual rubble and debris, and certainly better than the line of buildings on either side of it that lead towards us.

“Deacon, any more info on these guys?” I asked to our semi expert.

With great thought, I hoped, he scratched the end of his beak, “think of em as higher end raiders…” yeah, that sounded promising, “call themselves the Pack, where ever they got that name from your princesses knows…”

Probably from tearing apart ponies and other creatures’ limb from limb, or something just as gruesome. Who knew, that was part of the fun. Though if they were organized enough to have a name, they must have some sort of defense going for them.

“… I was once paid to watch over a caravan,” it didn’t take an expert to see the gryphon shutter at the memory, “needless to say, the pack is well known for their eccentric nature… and tend to fight in groups.”

Hmm their name choice kinda gave that away…

“Any suggestions then?” I asked, only to receive silence from around the room.

All the mare gave us was a mild shrug, “I mean, a distraction would be nice…” her eyes went between us and the courthouse, “gives them something to keep their sights on, and would let some of us less resilient beings get in close.”

Namely I’d imagine, herself and Deacon.

From her sly grin I could already see where this was going, and ya know… run and gun was not a solid plan. No matter how often we came back to it. Barge in to a Robco sales floor without thinking of the security, entering a factory that likely still had similar defenses, or even charging headlong to a ranger in need the first time around.

Still, it seemed like it was going to be the only option for us… great, just what my suit needed! With nothing else coming from them, both myself and Riff ducked our heads, ready for the first step in this so-called plan…

Run, and draw fire.

The first dozen or so feet were smooth sailing, it took some time for the guard to notice what was coming at them after all. After that though, there’s where the real fireworks started! That wasn’t standard defense turrets this Pack had going for em, those were fucking missile turrets!

Celestia their aim was terrible, but splash damage was damage still.

Armor integrity: 91%

Well damn, that’s the highest it’s been in a while for a fire fight!

I spoke too soon…

A dozen missiles from those turrets went off to the side of me and around my hooves, they might not hit like that of one held by a pony. Though, they still were high explosive none the less. Half deaf in one ear, my hind leg dripping blood, and what felt like a section of plating dangling to the side of the suit, I walked… or hobbled, to one of the other buildings nearby the courthouse.

Armor integrity: 79%

Riff wasn’t far behind me, taking pot shots with her own beam rifle at those turrets. I saw a few go up in a flash and sparks. Though it looked as if they had defenses to spare. Soon enough, the pooch joined me in our makeshift holdup, a pastry shop. Not the best shelter, but it did give those inside the courthouse somewhere to aim. Just as it gave me a solid wall to peek around and pepper the 5mm against their guns. As well as those that tried to take a shot of their own.

Not as effective as Riffs’, but it garnished me a few more notches on my belt, and gave my suit a few moments to repair. Those missiles scattered all around the side of the building, knocking out fresh mortar and glass from the structure as it showered myself and my companion. Amongst them, various calibers of guns were lost in the munitions. Riff probably didn’t expect to become a bullet sponge when she joined up, but welcome to the club!

Another bar on my E.F.S. went down, and not by either of our guns from what I could tell. Which meant either Deacon or Tumble were getting in range and giving them two fronts to fight against. I didn’t know what the Pack was armed with inside, but if they had guns like this out here…

Okay, not thinking of that now. Time to move!

Or try to… holding one plate back in place, the suit finally stitched itself up enough to get my legs and servos moving with some pep. Letting both me and Riff close in, firing to my name. Tri-barrel and a slightly slower rate of fire or not, the mini might not be the most accurate in a run and gun scenario, but our pup knew how to control her shots well. Where my 5mm would keep the heads of those inside down, her beams would make short work of those that still had interest in us.

As rounds from the bars, other than the turrets, pinged off my suit. We’d eventually got to the fencing, and with some liberal effort on both our parts a decent section of said barricade found its new home on the ground. The gang members inside were getting their sights dialed in, a few of them started to go for the helmet. For the time being, they seemed content on staying put inside their building, and probably readying more defenses.

My side slammed against the outer wall of the courthouse, ‘Ouch…’ I grumbled still feeling that tingling of nerves in my leg. Hey, at least I could still feel it. Riff bunched up behind me as she loaded in a new cartridge for her rifle. The collapsed corner we’d overlooked from earlier gave easy access to the ground floor, though the Pack probably knew that.

Scrambling atop the mound of broken brick and wood, Riff and myself got in to what looked like the file room, now littered with papers still after all this time. Surprised no pony had burned it all yet… eh that time would come. Especially with all this oil on the-

“… Oh… fuck me!” almost as soon as the words had left my mouth something ignited the fumes.

It wasn’t an inferno compared to the others I’d been in, hell even the suit was handling it quite well. Though trying to fight through fire and flames wasn’t the most pleasant thing to do! Mainly when you had a coat still exposed. Riff growled as she swatted at the flames along her arm, and I tried to look around for anything to quell the burning.

“Purge those who doubt the pack!” well that’s who lit the fuel… and that hissing was familiar, IF-451 if I believe…

The woosh of fuel brushed many of those embers the oil on the ground left up in to the air of that room. Collapsed wall or not, it was still cramped, and made seeing a pain in the flank. Incinerator here though was clear to see as Celestias’ sun, and he wasn’t holding back any of that fuel. Sheets of liquid blanketed over myself, and whatever fuel he was burning. It quickly turned my suit in to an oven. The longer it went, the more I saw the integrity ticking away like a clock.

Armor integrity: 83%

Stop it…

Armor integrity: 77%

Stop…

Armor integrity: 71%

Warning: severe tissue damage!

“Fine I get it!” I shouted to the suit, and lunged at the IF-451 user.

He had at least enough sense to not use it that close range, and instead opted to pull out… no you don’t! My horn grabbed hold of the pin he tried to pull with his teeth, grasping it firmly in its place. I knew what a detonated Incinerator could do even with fumes left, who knew how much fuel he still had. Using my hoof, I ripped the gas mask from his muzzle and tossed it clean across the room, letting the blaze I was still going through because of him backfire.

The smoke and soot started getting to him from the get go, and with his concentration blown. That apple stem ripped free from his grasp, and my hoof found his jaw. The resounding crack of his neck left the rest of his bulk slumping to the ground, still as wide eyed as when I took his mask off.

“Heads up,” I heard just in front of me, and as I raised my head a face full of powder welcomed it… nice, frosty, powder, “saw the smoke, figured it’d be you,” Deacon answered and shook the extinguisher.

Meds were already trickling into my system, and I was so glad I didn’t look at my leg right now under the plating that still had to patch up. I could kiss the creator of Med-X right now. “Did you find any more of those?” you know, for the next time I’m lit on fire…

“Or some left?” Riff asked, showing off her very blistered and patchy looking arm.

Deacon however tossed her the extinguisher as he went digging through his bags. Tumble wasn’t far behind him it seemed, and pushed past the gryphon, “There’s a stair well just back where we came from, we cleared the path too it… but,” she looked to our group, “it’d probably be better if we split up, a pair taking a floor?”

From the outside this place looked about two stories tall, if you didn’t count the basement it probably had… and if I were a gang leader here, I’d probably be held up in the main court room. Dusting off some of the extra powder and frost the built up, I got back to my hooves. They knew we were here, and we certainly wouldn’t get all day to figure it out.

‘See that’s a better plan then charge in…’ I threw a hoof on Deacons’ shoulder, “me and Deacon can take the bottom floor, you and Riff take the top?” Tumble and the pup in question looked between the four of us, “widens the firepower.”

Riff might have had her own suggestion to that, though a few good healing potions from the medic quickly changed her mind as she slugged them down. Already showing the relief across her face. Tumble just nodded as we left the filing room, and the pair started up the stairs. If she didn’t get the heavy metal backing her up, at least she got a hellhound… okay, semi-hellhound.

Deacon cycled out his magazine for what looked like his standard ammunition, as me and him readied ourselves at the door to the next room. My mini was sitting pretty with bullets, shells were still decent, and I wasn’t smelling burning skin for the time being.

Let’s see what's behind door number one!

A room full of office desks was a bit more tamed than I was expecting. Although, I guess they had to process all the files we just burned from somewhere, and those heavy metal frames did give plenty of places to hide. Just as we’d gotten at good view of the room, the shots started ringing through the space without warning.

The gryphon to my side was the first to be caught off guard, as he buckled there to the ground. Joining him, I felt a few rounds ping off the back plating. Deacon clenched on to the few holes that lined just above his hip. I don’t know how he could be smirking like that after getting shot, but when I was about to ask the obvious, he waved it off. As he pushed off to the side behind a separate wall to lick his wounds, I pressed forward drawing their fire.

Heavier slugs dug in to the side of the plating, and a few luckier shots managed to put a crack in the visor as I went. Upgraded or not, getting shot through the eye socket was almost always a death sentence. My bulk dropped as low as I could get, and let off a shell or two trying to put their own heads down.

Something that didn’t all work out as I’d planned, and even without the few inches the armor gave, there wasn’t much in here when it came to cover for myself. These shots I’d just have to take in stride, though after being lit up like a torch for the… fourth time? I was feeling a little bit shootie. With my head ducked down to hide the visor as much as I could. The mini purred on blindly, and sent its small caliber across the countless debris still scattered around the desks. Amongst the picture frames, scissors, coffee cups, and terminals that broke apart.

Those red bars didn’t fare much better.

For every shot they let off, I returned tenfold. Theirs might have had more of a punch, but numbers were on my side, and it didn’t take long for the last one to have their torso nearly cleaved in two from the sheer volume of lead. My barrels stopped spinning, and in the flickering light of the room the ambient glow of the barrels popped in the corner of my eye.

Armor integrity: 64%

“See, good as new,” Deacon proclaimed as he joined me, a fresh bandage across his hip. Though I hoped that followed a potion, “Not the first time I had to make repairs on the fly.”

Given his profession, I didn’t doubt it.

Something I was still getting experience with myself. 64% wouldn’t get me very far if they were packing everything from small arms to heavy weapons, and while he went about picking through some of the fresh bodies laden around the room. I started ripping in to the desks and wastebins for any sort of scrap I could throw in my hopper.

The aforementioned scrap found their way there, as did staplers, rusted cans, and even the occasional flask. Tumble might have been upset they were empty, though if the suit could speak it would have thanked me. Steadily, that 64% started ticking up… a wonderous machine the M.W.T. helped throw together, with of course a little arcane help from the M.A.S.

“Oh ho, what have we here?” Deacon muttered as he went through what looked like a footlocker.

Out in his talons the gryphon pulled a few more rounds for his launcher, and slid them in to his bag. The bodies around us didn’t warrant many goods it looked like, though it was hard to loot a pile of mush.

As he checked on his own IF-64, Deacon looked over to me, “How’s your suit holding up?”

Armor integrity: 75% I read through the visors’ display, “Eh… I’ll manage,” from the empty room we found ourselves in, the steady shots in the halls echoed to us. “Sounds like Tumble and Riff are putting in work,” really, it was hard to mistake the sound of her beam rifle.

All our medic did was nod, “Well, let’s not em have all the fun,” he snickered as we passed through the next door and in to what looked like… a cafeteria?

Tables, trays, and a serving counter with armed ponies lining up behind it. Yep, cafeteria alright, and by the looks of it they added some plating of their own to that chow line. Cheap tables weren’t the best thing to stop bullets, not by a long shot. Though Deacon made good use of an old Sparkle-Cola machine as it soaked up the rounds, and he returned some of the favor. There being only one of those machines… well you could imagine where that put me.

Taking up much of the fire, my 75% already was dropping from those taking shots between their firing slits of the counter. Not fast enough to worry, but I knew Rogue was looking down on me with shame for what I was putting his suit through. What do you want from me? This thing was bulky before the extra plating, and It’s not like I can just make my own cov-

‘Idea…’ the lightbulb almost went off above me, as I rushed towards Deacons’ shelter.

He looked a little confused as I tried joining him behind it, even more so when I tipped the machine over on its side. Although as he ducked behind it, my hooves planted against the frame and started pushing. With my head low, and the shoulder plating taking most of the brunt, our ram screeched across the ground towards the counter. It was called power armor for a reason, and I could only imagine the looks on the gang members faces.

With every stomp of my hooves, the machine pushed more tables and chairs out of the way, letting my shotgun do even more damage to their fortification as the pellet spread narrowed. Parts of the makeshift fort were falling apart, and those gaps they were shooting from were getting mighty big… enough for another to get his own two cents in.

From this short distance, accuracy mattered little, even more so when it was a missile. Before I knew it, Deacon had already let one shot loose amongst them, and left scattering parts of pony and kitchen ware falling about. Soon enough, with maybe a shadow of a grin he was loading up another and setting the tube on his shoulder. Not the most ideal weapon for close quarters, although I was the last one who should be talking, there was an explosive shotgun strapped to my side.

One ganger didn’t quite take the hint, and instead insisted on leaping over the counter towards us. Splash damage or not, I’d rather have mine over Deacons’. Two shells from the shotty later and the mulched remains of what might have been a mare sprayed over my plating and in to my avian friends’ feathers. A rather anger induced second shot did the trick, and silenced the rest of those that once sheltered there.

Stepping atop the cola machine and over the counter, the fruits of his work showed from the puddles around. There wasn’t really much of anything to go through from this bunch, and both of us just passed by the slippery piles without any heed. Those shots throughout the building continued, and from here I could have sworn they sounded a bit louder.

“We’d better catch up with them, this place wasn’t that big,” I said to my companion, as Deacon just nodded and went towards the back door of the kitchen, “We should be-”

Past him the boxy barrel of an AER-7 filled his face.

Just over that, was a face I’d recently met.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Deacon started smirking once again at the most inopportune time imaginable, with a barrel pointed at his face no less! “What brings you to these parts, Staggs?”

“What are you doing here?” the salty gryphon asked, and I waited on chomping my bit.

“Probably the same reason you are,” Deacon lowered the beam rifle down, though surprisingly Staggs didn’t protest at all, “Pack leader contract?”

I could smell the fumes coming off of the older gryphon, even through the filters of the helmet, “Son of bitch,” Staggs groaned, “out of the gang and you’re still swiping them away!” he sounded pissed, hell I’d be pissed if someone kept taking my job, and yet his barrel wasn’t moving to shoot our medic.

Don’t know how he was reading the situation, but a talon extended from Deacon to his counterpart. “Tell ya what, why not tag along for just this job?” Staggs looked either insulted or irritated at the offer from my view, “they’re decently armed here, and it’d better your chances if you had some guns backing you up.”

It’d taken some time, and in the silence- … wait… “are you hearing that?” I asked, turning my head for a better ear.

Deacon followed suit with the motion, “Ahh no…”

“My point exactly, it’s quiet now,” a second or two later the gryphon caught my drift.

“Help us out and I’ll give ya half my cut?” Deacon made his final offer.

There it is!

Almost too eagerly Staggs shook talons with his younger cohort, loaded up a fresh energy cell, and nodded to the pair of us. We didn’t know the layout, or where the pair had wound up, but if our hearing was anything to go off of. The rest of our group had to be close by.

“How’d you get in here?” I questioned our tag along.

“A lot quieter than ya’ll,” Staggs grumbled at my back, “I’m getting too old for the head first approach, so I came in the back door.”

Hmm… so we knew Tumble and Riff weren’t the way he went. Which meant, we had to be closer to the main court room. Well if Staggs was hoping to stick to that stealthy approach, that went out the window with me stomping around. The hearing room we’d entered already had a few bodies laying throughout it, none by myself or Deacon. Considering they weren’t ash either, it couldn’t have been Staggs.

It was a shitty world when the breadcrumbs on a trail were corpses.

Though that trail yielded us a very annoyed looking hellhound, licking her wounds. Tumble didn’t look all that much better, but together they were still breathing beside at one point what might have been the secretaries’ desk to the main courtroom. A tiny gust of air kicked up as Deacon went about the role he’d fallen in to, as his kit was already opened up and tending to the two.

Riff Raff let the gryphon tend to her forearm, already having been healed from the burns earlier, now it just laid tattered and shot up with a number of fresh scorch marks across it. I had to give it to her kind, they were built tough. Besides the one potion, she waved off anything more from our medic. Letting Deacon go to the other in need.

“What happened here?” I asked the obvious, if our guess was right, I think I knew what was behind door number… three?

“Boss pony inside,” Riff pointed towards the door with a thumb, “me and mare open door, get shot at, lots of lasers.”

So… either there were a lot of ponies inside with the leader, or he had some serious firepower of his own. Neither was good for us; it was a courtroom. Really only one way in and one way out in front of us at the moment, and I doubted any of us explored enough to know where another entrance would be.

“I swear I’m alright,” the mare insisted, “hell you look worse for wear,” Tumble might have been rolling her eyes at Deacons’ own bandages, but that didn’t stop a little flush in her cheeks as he covered her burns.

“Doctor Deacon check dog out again?” once again Deacons’ feathers ruffled at the wink from Riff.

Once again, Tumble looked like an over cooked grenade.

And once again, I couldn’t help but laugh at the trio.

The only outlier here was Staggs, who just looked confused as he stared at the four of us and shook his head. Deacon at least was the first to recover, and slung the missile launcher back up on his shoulder at the ready.

“Right! So, are we ready to do this?” he asked, and sounded just a tad eager to leave the situation.

Could ya blame him?

Riff and Tumble got back to their feet, Staggs brought his AER up, and I joined Deacon in front of the door. If they really did have the firepower, it wouldn’t take long between opening the door and them opening up on us… better make it count.

A strong front kick nearly knocked the doors off their hinges-… and oh those guns would do it! I noticed a bit too late as the twin gatling lasers on the battlesaddle started spinning up, and I was forced to back behind the door frame. Hell, even Deacon wasn’t able to get a shot off with his launcher. Now that the door was open, there were a few bars along with the leader, though he was the obvious priority here.

“You mess with the pack you get the fangs!” yep… totally the leader of this bunch.

His bolts kept peppering through the open door, keeping the five of us back in cover. The other bars in the room hadn’t really moved much, if anything they might have been covering their boss, or waiting for us to make a move. However, if my eyes were right and the leader was packing what looked like a set of AER-15’s with a gatling conversion. Him firing like that at full speed meant one thing to me…

3…

2…

1…

His spark batteries ran out almost like clockwork, and that’s when his back up started firing. Giving myself a slight window to work with, as I drew some of their fire while the leader reloaded. Those with me followed my lead soon after, filing in behind the benches that ponies would have filled during a trial. As the leader of the bunch hunkered down atop the judges’ pedestal.

Riffs’ rifle returned her own crimson beams against his, keeping the leader for the most part to short bursts that he raked across the room. Tumble might have been the least armored of us all, though she found something a bit sturdier than one of the benches… my suit. All too happily, the mare propped the carbine up over my back and shoulders, giving her a stable base to shoot from, and a bit of cover.

Was I being used as an improvised meat shield? Yes. Was it keeping my friend alive? Also, yes.

Plus, she was pretty damned good with that thing.

Even as the door to the jury room opened and a few more of the Pack came in, those red bars that were in the room still started to dwindle. Deacon and Staggs remained to the side of me, taking their own shots carefully. When one shot, the other would move up to the next aisle, if one needed to reload, the other would cover them.

Perfect synchronism if there ever was one.

And the total opposite of what I had going for me. My guns were cycling almost as fast as I was watching my armor percentage tick away. The other gangers that joint their leader weren’t packing his level of weaponry, but the shots they were getting off between ours were still hitting their marks.

Armor integrity: 53%

‘Still manageable,’ I told myself while letting the gun purr. Chewing through the halls of justice, with a level of chaos they’d probably not seen before during their hay day.

A couple overcharged laser shots whipped past me, and went square in to the chest of the Pack leader as he leveled his guns. It was a slow process with the combat armor he was wearing, but soon enough you saw the pain on his face stick as the cracks along his coat started to spread across. Soon enough, the colts’ entire form started to collapse in on itself in a pile of ash one could have swept up with a dust pan.

Those of the gang left over didn’t last much longer past that. Between the controlled fire of the two mercs, my mini, Tumbles marksmanship, and Riffs sledgehammer of a rifle. The rest were either turned in to corpses, or soot.

After the shots died down, I checked over my E.F.S. right quick, only to find an empty display. Nothing below, above, or around in the immediate area. A much-needed breather we’d gotten, and as I trotted up to the pile that was left. There shimmering was a little something to turn in for the reward. A pair of dog-tags, hopefully that would suffice… either that or I’d need to put the colt in a jar.

Sadly, the leaders’ guns were pretty well damaged by the shots from Riff. Though what juice his spark batteries had would still prove useful, and with a tug of my horn they found their new home in my bags. Tumble did much the same, as she went around to the other bodies we’d left and gathered goods. Everything from arms to armor, hoofing them off to our hound.

“Just like old times, eh?” Deacon asked to his counterpart while we picked through some of the last remaining containers.

A humph escaped the older gryphon, “what? You going head first in to the fray and getting lit up… yeah just as I remember it.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re still gonna be pissy…” Deacon continued to try him, “you think you would have been able to clear out this place on your own?”

All Staggs did was cock his brow at the youngster, “… I could just air this place out, ya’ll included.”

Open threat or not, Deacon just punched him in the shoulder like he’d told a bad joke. Ya know what, gryphons were weird. Then again, this entire world was weird. Now that we had a decent haul to take back to Barkston with, we found ourselves heading back towards the front door through the lobby of the courthouse. This time with a lot less ponies trying to shoot as us, or set me on fire… again.

Though as I lead the way and pushed the door open, all that welcomed me was… the same dull grey overcast I’d come to know. The sun would be nice to see again after almost two centuries, but Pegisy were notoriously stubborn at times. Hell, just look at the Ministry of Awesome’ head mare.

A clank behind me drew my attention, as from across Riffs’ back, one of the guns from the gangers dropped to the ground, “Ya know I can help-”

Pain…

Actually, not even pain at first, really just a slowly growing burn running down the side of my shoulder. I wanted to look around to see what that was that ran across from me, there was just one problem. The suit was on the ground, and I couldn’t move, or even feel for that matter. Riff was latched on to my suit with her paws pulling on me. Tumble was saying something, but I couldn’t hear a thing over the ringing in my helmet.

One thing’s for sure… my foreleg should not be dragging like that!

And then, the sound started to come back, as did the messages across my vision.

Warning:

Suit integrity compromised!

Severe tissue damage!

Unable to administer chems, seek medical treatment!

Armor integrity: (ERROR ERROR ERROR)

Oh… that’s not good.

My head slumped against the ground as Riff tried to lay me down as gently as she could. Tumble had already slammed the door shut, and was trying to peer out the windows along the sides of the building. Deacon was tossing meds left and right as he went through his bags, before pulling out half a dozen healing potions.

“Quick! Drink up!” he shouted, and without question I popped my visor and gulped down the purple liquid.

I couldn’t see down across me, nor could I see how much good it was actually doing. Judging from Deacons face though, it didn’t look good. As he grabbed his bag, more chems and syringes started to pour out. I hadn’t realized he stocked up that much on those goods. Until, one syringe was pulled with his talon.

One I recall him saying it was an all or nothing…

In one motion the cap was pulled off, and the gryphon drove the needle deep into the tissue of along my shoulder blade… wait… shouldn’t that be covered in armor? Just as I thought it, Riff started crunching up some of those weapons with her claws, making short work of them as she dropped the piles next to the suit.

“What the hell was that?” Tumble asked as from the corner of my eye I watched her scan out the window.

“Sniper…” Staggs muttered from the opposite window, “building directly across.”

Yeah, my suit could second that motion, “Deacon… think you can hit em with the launcher?” I grinned, though the humor seemed lost.

“Stay still a moment, let the Hydra do its job,” he ordered while putting some of the scrap in the hopper, though I could feel the chem already working.

My shoulder blade was beginning to pull my foreleg back in to place, as was the bone starting to reform?! It’s strange, healing a bone over time you never noticed, having one grow in a few seconds while lying still… you felt that all through the process. Steadily the feeling in my leg started to return, as did the pain. My teeth gritted against one another, and Deacon took that hint as he shoved a Med-X in to my shoulder. Good thing too, that shit was starting to-

Nope, still smelling burning meat!

Immediately Deacon doused the opening with water. That dulled it a bit, but from having my shoulder blade more or less severed to being put back together wasn’t a pleasant feeling in the slightest. As much as I wanted to look down on my shoulder to see it get mended back up, the suit had other ideas. Broken down materials always repaired faster than whole goods, and with Riffs claws going to town, the suit itself had all the scrap it needed to work with… for now.

Plate by plate, those that dangled by mere cables were pulled back in to place… seriously, whoever thought up repair talismans needed a raise. My suit was finally giving me a feedback report every step of the way, and once whatever affected the chem pump was fixed. I got another dose of painkillers in my system.

Warning: Armor integrity: 5%

Critical failure imminent!

Still not good, even if all the damage was in one spot. The suit could only keep up with so much, if it hit zero, then the repair talisman would completely fry itself trying to overwork and would stop repairing all together. Rogues’ talisman was damaged before it even reached that threshold, no matter the case, what damage done would have to stay till I got to it.

“We got company,” Staggs ducked down from the window, just as a few rounds went through it and sent glass over the area.

As much as Deacon might not like it, my hooves eventually pushed myself up to all fours… ‘not the best of ideas’, my eyes winced, while another shot of Med-X filled my veins. The suit might be repairing, and my shoulder was together in some way. Though to say it was fixed was a far cry from the truth.

“What are they?” I asked, not wanting to get too close to the window while my suit still made repairs.

Tumble just started to shake her head, “Your old friends.”

Gunners… how terrific.

“A few are walking towards this place,” Staggs jerked his head to the window, “though with the sniper out there packing that kind of heat… they should be the first to go.”

“We’ll need another way out of here,” Deacon pointed out the obvious, as his magazine was switched to the armor piercing, “Ideally one not in the crosshairs of em.”

Riff without hesitation broke apart the last of her gun collection, before stomping off to the room beside us. All of us just watched as she pushed her way in to the mares’ room and shut the door behind her… when you gotta go, you gotta go, I guess. Though the crunching of mortar and drywall kinda threw out that idea.

As innocently as a hellhound could, Riff poked her head back out the door to us, “Need way out, dog make way out…” she ushered us with her paw, “can reach other buildings on side.”

Oh, the perks of having a hound on your team…

“I’ll go for the sniper,” Staggs flexed out his wings.

“And I’ll be joining you,” all of them looked at me like I’d just sprouted my own set, “I have a bone to pick with that guy, and I’m not even the vengeful sort.”

Warning: Armor integrity: 18%

Those broken-down parts worked wonders, not ideal, but then again when was it ever? Scooping up the remainder of the scrap for my hopper, myself and Staggs went out the side Riff had made opposite the collapsed corner we’d come in from. Letting the trio stay back to draw some of the other Gunners attention.

Staggs was about as silent as a dove while he flapped, just barely above me. If it hadn’t been for the E.F.S. I might have forgotten he was there. Though that little sensor also showed me the half dozen red bars that were getting closer to the courthouse, and I gulped for the safety of those I just walked away from. ‘They’ll be better if this guy is taken out,’ I reminded myself. The sniper had to have known we were coming, they were smart enough to set up an ambush, they knew we’d find a way out of there.

“Careful now…” Staggs swooped down to ground level and held a wing in front of me as we approached the building, oddly enough it was the same apartment building we had checked the courthouse out from, “They were up on the roof when I saw the silhouette.”

Damn, that eagle vision really was a thing…

“So… meet me up there?” the gryphon cocked his eye for a moment at me, then we heard the sound of even more gun shots than usual for the wastes. The trio must have waited for those gunners to get in a bit closer, though as I looked back, Staggs almost looked… worried? “Don’t take too long,” his demeanor went right back to that salty gryphon, and he took to the sky.

Pushing through one of the doors to the building, I had expected an entire slew of traps to greet me. Though they either didn’t have time to set them all up, or just didn’t care. Soon enough I found the stairs and started making my way up top. The trek might have been giving my suit time to patch, but in Lunas’ holy night… the real weakness of power armor had to be stairs.

Not an AMR.

Not high explosives.

Not even gravity itself.

Just damn stairs… by the time I reached the top it had to have been only a dozen, maybe a bakers’ dozen, worth of flights. Although it felt like I’d just climbed all the way up Canterlot mountain. ‘I’d been running around the wasteland, for over a week now… and stairs are what kicks my ass,’ I might have grumbled, but at least I was at the top.

Now to face a group of murderous ponies!... yay.

A heavy buck to the door knocked back the hinges and opened it up for my grand entrance… as part of the wall was blown out in one shot. Snapping my head back and following the contrail, the group I was expecting turned out to only be a trio of ponies. With one mare holding a pretty well-maintained AMR in her hooves, with her rose irises trained down its sights. The colts alongside her carried their own hunting rifles, but they were nothing compared to that beauty!

Whoops, cover now!

The pain in my legs from getting shot and the climb up immediately left once my life was on the line, and I found myself taking cover behind a set of air conditioning units for the building below. My armor was only hovering around 25%, and that wasn’t anything to mess with considering what the mare was packing. Poking my head out, S.A.T.S fired up and gave me a clear view of the trio.

One was already getting a few shots put in him, and out the corner of my eye I saw a crimson beam lace out in slow motion and strike the gunner. Yielding much the same result as the Pack leader, as his companions started to line up their shots. I did the same. With only a 33% chance to hit, it’s no wonder half the 5mm rounds went wide, and those that did hit the mare did so right in her chest plate.

The spell died out, with a pile of ash joining them, now it was an even match. Another shot from her AMR tore a hole through the AC unit, and narrowly missed my more private parts. Intended or not, this mare was going down for that! While Staggs focused on tangoing with the other spotter, me and the mare had words to exchange.

Or shells.

The shotty racked em back as fast as I could chomp down on the bit, blanketing sections of the roof with small detonations and causing some of the tared room to break apart as I went to town. Yet somehow, for every shell I went through, this mare danced around it like a ballet. Her rifle was slung over her shoulder, and she was drawing closer with every prance she took. Strange… something in her hoof was glowing…

Powerhooves were one of those things that somepony thought was a good idea, then never took the time to get socked in the jaw by one of them. To that pony I have to say, fuck you. Armored or not, the discharge of energy in them sent my already fritz filled systems through the whirlwind. My display cracked and filled with static, and even a few of my servos took that extra second to keep up with my movements.

Not the kind of time I had.

Those lost seconds were running me in to the ground. Her charged bracers might not get a full buildup of power by the time she landed another hit, but even that small amount was enough to give me a literal shock to the system. ‘Sorry Staggs,’ I thought and let the mini spin back up as I did a twirl. Sweeping the 5mm across the roof, thankfully I didn’t hit the gryphon… though the mare also eluded that burp.

“Boo,” I heard the words in my ear, before the kick landed and forced me to eat roofing material. The giggle of the mare sounded like it’d come from a school filly, not a mare hellbent on making me in to a pile of pulp!

Before another burst of mine could get her, the mare already flipped over top of me and drove another hoof in to my helmet. Earth ponies were strong for sure, but they weren’t known for the nimbleness. Where she picked it up from, I’d never know, nor did I have any interest in finding out. If she managed to keep this up though the suit would stay on the fritz, and it’d just be a matter of time before she got bored and took out her rifle to finish the job.

Whelp, desperate times call for desperate measures…

Dancing on her hooves, the mare got in close once again. This time my shotgun was ready, just not with her in its sights. One shell blew a chunk out of the room beneath the two of us, not enough to damage the structure, but more than enough of a shockwave to give her something to think about.

Armor integrity: 23%

Between static it managed to get that much out to me at least. Okay so it hadn’t gone down much from that, and it’d looked like she took the brunt of it. Shrapnel had nicked the suit, although it tore through parts of her limbs that weren’t covered in the Powerhooves. Speaking of… the mare dove back in to the fray, ready to land another hit, and once again I denied it with my own shell. This time peppering a few for good measure around our hooves.

Armor integrity: 19%

I may be taking a beating from the gun as well, but between the two of us I’d last longer. Some of the shrapnel managed to damage something on one of her hooves, and sent a small shower of sparks. The talisman on it died out, leaving her two options. Keep dancing around with her Powerhooves, or finish this fight.

She chose the latter.

The mare pulled her AMR, and with only the hoof work I’d seen from clips about Zebra snipers. Lined up her shot as she held the barrel along her hooves. Adrenaline fueled my own as they went to work, beating against the roof and trying to throw off her aim. Still she fired, blowing holes through the structure the size of softballs… not somewhere I wanted to be!

While I ran, the mare tiptoed on her hind hooves, keeping up the dance to the sound of gunfire. “Hold still ya varmint!” she shouted, though I didn’t listen. That was anger in her eyes, and she must not have been used to taking this many shots to get a clean hit.

If you didn’t count that first one.

My mini spun up again, and while the display was still flickering, this time with her focused on her aim she wasn’t thinking of mine. Running a line of rounds across her, the mare managed to avoid the last bit, but the initial burst is what tagged her. Blood started to leak down the side of her leg, and her once nimble movements were now staggered… yeah, it hurts don’t it.

If anything, that just made her even angrier, and while she fanned the trigger of the AMR. I returned the favor with my shotgun. She only needed to land one on me and I’d be done, just as I did her. We might have been missing, but mine affected an area, and still drove her back to skip across her hooves while dodging a bulk of the pellets.

Until, she skipped a bit too much.

The mare landed along the edge of the roof, and started waving her hooves frantically to keep her balance. As she lost her rifle in the process the last shell of mine that discharged, was the final push. S.A.T.S. might not have been charged, but time still seemed to slow down as I watched her fall back over that edge. The entire time, we just looked at one another, she couldn’t see my face.

But I could see fear on hers.

For a second, it felt as if the fighting stopped, just long enough for me to hear the thud of raw meat hitting pavement. I rushed over to the edge, and there across the ground was the mare spread eagle against it. From this vantage, a dozen stories between us or not, I could still see her eyes looking back up at me.

The stairs might have been the smart move to take, though power armor was designed to take a fall as well… at least from this angle. Taking that leap, I landed several yards from her making most of the street itself shake, and realized that in fact the gun fire had died down to silence. Tumble, Riff, and Deacon were already trotting up to my impact site, before they finally noticed where I was walking to.

To my surprise, those eyes of the mare followed me when I walked up to her… she was still clinging to life. A cough escaped her chest, and with it probably a good quart of blood. Something inside her was broken. Spine, a few dozen ribs, probably internal bleeding to boot. Yet the only thing she could do was look at me, and raise one of her hooves to point.

Deacon brought out his bag, and pulled out a syringe of Med-X. She was dying, he knew it, and like the medic he played. The least he could do was numb the pain… even if she had tried to kill me, I could appreciate the modesty. Though this mare pushed him away with her hoof, and as best she could, shook her head.

“Your face,” she coughed up between labored breaths, “let me see it…” It was an odd request, but it was one I at least could grant. The side of my visor slipped up, and I watched as a smile started to grow, “ahh… there it is,” she coughed up a bit more blood, and let it dribble from her lips. Her hooves started to move, and although Tumble already had her .44 out and at the ready if she tried something. The downed mare reached towards one of the pouches on her side, and pulled out a tape, “now I know who to look for, when I see ya in hell.”

Just as soon as her sentence finished, she dropped the tape in front of me, as her hoof landed to the side. The mares’ final breath escaped, letting her rest with that wicked smile still stretched across her lips as Staggs flapped down towards us. A bit overdramatic, although I have to give it to her…

Good comeback.

“Oh crap…” the older gryphon said as he stood amongst us. All our eyes turned towards him, as his snapped back to the four of us, “You don’t know who this is… do you?”

Listen buster… I don’t even know what my armor percentage is at. Not with the display still… oh wait, it’s rebooting! Finally, after it got done sorting out the hits it took from her Powerhooves, my visor displayed something in the top actually useful, something about the mare I’d just fell…

Gunner Brigadier.

I didn’t just kill any mare, I killed Barrel, “… Well… Fuck,” I facehooved.