Fallout Equestria: We Love Burning Country!

Chapters

Chapter 2: Edge of Burning Country
Chapter 3: Children of Burning Country
Chapter 1: Welcome To Burning Country

Chapter 2: Edge of Burning Country

Chapter Two: Edge of Burning Country

"We were spitting venom at most everyone we know

If the damned gave us a road map then we'd know which way to go"

Ridge Rider watched the desert horizon through a bulky set of binoculars. The setting sun killed all light, still invisible through the endless layer of clouds that curved over, all the way at the edge of the planet. Half of the planet was covered in the Enclave's clouds, stifling the celestial bodies that had once been worshipped by the continent now blind to them. Ridge Rider had the same wish everyone in Equestria did; he wanted to see the sun, just one time before he died, a glimpse of that which was immortalized on Equus.

He wouldn't see the sun for many, many more years. But he did see a distant set of approaching dots, wavy through the heat and haze.

He lowered his bandanna, whistling to his partner. "Our first visitors. Two coming, one tall, looks to be a Diamond Dog."

"Hmm. Good on them for outlasting the rest of the packs around here." His partner said noncommittally, picking at an entire head of cabbage, wilted and unhealthy, but still undeniably exported recently.

Ridge kept his eyes trained through the glass. "Coming on us. Look to be unarmed. Two satchels. The short one is a dusty brown Earth Pony... Aw, hell!" His mood lightened as he lowered his binoculars, stomping on the sand and turning to the campfire.

"What? Do they have food?" His cohort perked.

"Even better." Ridge smiled, tending again to the campfire, now spitting smoke high to the sky to join with the clouds above. "It's April and Beher. Water."

If a pegasus would have stuck their head through the clouds, they may have mistaken the sight below for another night sky. Burning Country was pitch black, perfect for the countless predators that patrolled it; but like the stars that lit paths and constellations above, golden flickers of light dotted the various desert passes below.

Beher's career most often kept him from joining the campfires that sprung up at night, but he respected them the same way every resident did. There was no organization, no demand; But every night without fail, the residents who found themselves with wood to spare would spend it, lighting fires that wanderers and vagabonds would draw to. For one night, strangers joined as brothers before parting ways.

To a hypothetical pegasus, they were the last barbaric remains of a neanderthal society struggling to stay alive. To Burning Country, they were friendship.

"For... if... we don't find... the next whiskey bar... I tell you we must die... I tell you we must die..." Ridge Rider gripped his guitar, expertly strumming thaums from his horn across the strings, measuring pressure to pluck out the needed tune. Around him, several more ponies had accumulated around the fire over the night's course.

"We don't seem to be in any hurry of running out of those." One of the gathered pointed out. "How the hell are the bars and mom and pop stores so resilient? You too, Beher, that store's been running for centuries, and all time has done is teeter it."

Beher shrugged, leaning against April's pudge as the two huddled around the fire. "If I had to guess? Ministry of Morale liked having their own stores. Owner wanted nothing to escape her gaze, and liked having a foothold in every city across the continent. To stop their real estate from being swooped up and replaced with a bakery or something, every store around here had to be in tip top shape. Any structural, health, or zoning flaw, the Ministry would swoop on that like a vulture and have them shut down within the day thanks to its government influence. Stuff n Things built to last. Through hell, high water, or Balefire Egg-Dropping Bombs."

April reached into the blue cooler they had dragged out here, dismayingly noticing the only bottle left in it. Neither of them had wanted to completely scalp the next morning's supply, and had taken the absolute bare minimum to get them through the desert... plus a bit to pass around to the small collective at the fire. The remaining warm, dirty bottle would have to be rationed like the holy grail.

They had, in fact tried to use the Water chip, long serenaded by talk of its powers in old tabloids, but the chip remained elusive. For one, It was little more than a gemstone inside a metal casing- all thaumic activity meant to coax out the bonded hydrogen and oxygen was all externally committed by someone who knew how to use it, which was a problem given its rarity. Even if they were willing to pull out the chip in public they still doubted a civilian, to most of whom the ancient art of teeth brushing was lost on, could operate it sufficiently. For safety's concern, the chip was well out of sight now, conveniently if not fashionably stored in April's chest under her shirt. The head had likewise been placed in her bag, lugged out of sight over her shoulder- it could take more of a beating.

"You know, I'd reckon that does make sense." Ridge pointed out. "The old bat doesn't seem like the type to budge to any sympathizing bastard." He did his best impression of the Boss's cries to anyone who accidentally tread too close to his house. "My question is, for someone so manic as him, why'd he let you leave?"

A round of agreements and 'where are you going?'s echoed around.

Beher's eyes flickered away. "We're... just making a delivery."

Ridge shot an unconvinced glance to the nearly empty cooler.

"You deliver now? Bring me a damn pizza." Another joked to mild chuckles.

"Alright, alright." Beher waved his hooves. "Our business is our business. But... we're going to the Carnival."

Chuckles died quickly.

"Alright... I won't pry. But I don't think you really need it explained to you that the place is creepy." Ridge reminded. "You ever wonder why there are so few raiders in Burning Country?"

"Ridge, we're raiders." His cohort reminded.

Ridge shook his head violently. "No, no, the alive-people raiders. They raid alive people. We're more... Pirates."

"Pirates also raid alive people."

"Ah, ah, shuddup!" Ridge turned back to Beher, leaning in dramatically. "You ever wonder what happened to them?"

"They left? Because this place is a dump and the ones who think there's still anything left here worth selling are idiots? No offense." Beher leaned back.

"None taken. But nah, something worse. Necessity." Ridge hissed. "Carnival's the biggest place around. So many raiders went in to raid, it was practically a rite of passage when I was a lad. Then, Annie moves in. Suddenly, everybody's going in and nobody's coming out. That ain't anything special, is it? Just means she knows how to defend her house. But then, after decades, it re-opens, and Annie? She suddenly has a crew, workers working a kids amusement park. That's special. Annie goes in. The scum of the earth, killers and thieves go in. Annie comes out. Entertainers and clowns come out. You seeing a discrepancy here?"

"It went from a fort of death to a 6 year old's birthday party." His cohort added enthusiastically.

"But a raider never forgets!" Ridge pointed to the sky confidently. "And they get antsy quickly. Maybe she's rough, but she's one girl. If they're subservient to her, either she's got a damn flesh eating monster under the place, or she's still letting them raid. Organized. Prepared. Alllll underrrrr her."

Beher looked around the other, bobbing for a single amused face to let in that this was a campfire tale. He found none. "We gotta do what we gotta do. It's a public place. The rumors certainly haven't killed the business."

"It's a popular spot for urban exploring." Ridge dismissed. "Plus, bragging rights. They should start selling shirts. 'I ate at the Abduction Carnival.'"

"I think we'll be fine. We go in and out, deal and done. Right, April?" The dog was clutching her stomach again, and he lightly squeezed her leg to calm her down, scratching her fur soothingly until her tail wagged.

"We gotta do what we gotta do." She echoed.

Ridge nodded happily. "I like that moxy. The Brahmin raisers come along this road in the morning. You stay with us for a bit, we can bargain to get you where you want to be going."

"Really? That easily?"

"Damn skippy."

Beher fished in the cooler for the last bottle. "I think you've earned this one, Ridge."

Ridge quickly waved it off. "Nah, nah. That's all you. All in favor? That's what I like to hear."

At the agreeing murmurs, Beher sheepishly hugged the bottle to his chest, and Ridge turned back to his guitar.

"Here, let's get something happier. The woo-orst person I know!"

"Mooother in law." April echoed, snapping from her stupor happily.

"Mother in law!" Ridge grinned. "She woo-orries me so! Mother in law! She thinks her word is a contribution, but if she leaves it would be the solution! And don't come back no more!"

Empty water bottles were raised to the air triumphantly all around.

"Mother in law!"

"What is a Balefire-Egg Dropping Bomb, anyway?"

Beher and April were squashed between cows. The wood trailer was built to stuff as many cows into a small space, which was impressive given how heavy cows were and how roughly ramshod Burning Country architecture was. There was just enough space for the herder to agree to let them ride in the back as it was rolled between destinations, so long as they left the cooler with the Campfire ponies. Now, forced into a hug, the duo squinted in the shady light that only came through the gaps between wood boards on the walls and ceiling, illuminating choking clouds of dust and flies. All in all, it wasn't too bad- barely different from an outhouse.

"It isn't obvious in the name?" Beher pointed out when asked.

April snorted, then twitched her sensitive nose at the cow-stench. "Fine, then. What's a balefire egg?"

"Another type of bomb."

"Celestia, is that all ponies knew how to make?"

"Don't be ridiculous. They made guns too."

There was a sudden rattle that startled the cows as the trailer stopped, and Beher briefly feared the Brahmin would begin stampeding within the confines. From outside, they heard the Cattler begin talking.

"Let's not be hasty. Uh, I'm not really into the whole 'Unity' thing. Mind if we go our own ways, folks?"

"Fret not. We have no ill will. We simply want to check your trailer for security reasons."

The duo glanced to each other, thoughts jumping to the same subject.

"Can't think of anything I'd have of interest. Just transporting some cows, and a few travelers."

Beher swore under his breath. Maybe there wouldn't be a reason to take them aside. He doubted it.

"No wares being sold? Please allow us to check the trailer anyway. We're looking for something very specific."

A set of hoovesteps circled the trailer, stopping at the doors ahead of the huddled pair. Beher quietly took the bag off April's shoulders and slid it under a Brahmin's udder.

The doors opened, and light shone in. Beher squinted back, squeezing his friend's paw.

"All seems in order. The Goddess thanks you for your cooperation."

Beher dared to open an eye, blinking at the trio of Alicorns nodding as one and gently closing the doors. After a few moments of shuffling they were back on the road.

Beher caught his breath, retrieving the bag before the cow decided to sit on it. "What in Tartarus was that about?"

"Clearly not us. Fuck, I thought I was going to throw up." April admitted.

"There have been a lot of Alicorns around lately. I served some yesterday." He recalled. "They're not converting, and they barely looked us over. Didn't even search our bags."

"I think that was what the locals call 'luck'." April gently socked Beher across the head. "We may not have that fabled substance next time. We oughta make the most of it."

It was impossible to tell which parts of the mural were painted by staff and which by vandals. The centerpiece was a cherry blossom pink mare with stringy, dirty hair strands of a much lighter pink almost verging on white that hung over her face. She smiled forward with a sympathetic, almost despondent Mona Lisa expression. But around her, all bets were off; phallic symbols, kilroys, devil horns, impossibly illegible bubble letters, pentagrams, and tentacles in sensitive areas were doodled in every blank space, not leaving a clue of what color the brick may have been beforehand. They were most likely added on by raiders after the fact, but they certainly fit with the Burning Country approved aesthetic. For a Carnival that billed itself on wanton violence to pander to an audience that expected seven knife fights before breakfast, it wasn't exactly misleading.

April and Beher stood at the base, looking up to marvel at the mural's multiplicity of meanings. The parking lot had once been a lot larger, but per Burning Country's modus operandi, half of it was buried in sand. Not that it mattered much, since cars were a thing of the past, and hooves were built for walking on uneven surfaces. Paws, however, found sand to be a bit of a nuisance.

"I gotta ask you, man, can the cows talk?" Beher turned back to the cattler as they slipped the straps around their saddle to hit the road.

"They can. They just like to pick and choose their words carefully." The cattler confirmed.

"You know how creepy that makes the entire ride, right?"

"You thought it was creepy? Imagine how the Brahmin felt, with two strangers rubbing up against them, suddenly thrown into their circle of friends." The cattler snorted, before setting off.

As the creaking wheels of the carriage cart full of cows that had carried them faded, Beher swiveled and turned for the Carnival's 'opening'. The opening in question was a large metal gate built into the wall alongside a pre-war admission booth built to withstand a bomb blast, which hadn't gone to waste. The glass was covered in scratches, and old posters of the head of Morale herself were scattered in shreds across the wall as they approached.

April leaned down awkwardly to Beher's ear level as they approached. "Does this guy look like a raider?"

"What does it matter? We're not narcs." He muttered back. "Everyone and their mothers are raiders here, you might as well ask if he's uncastrated. We're not running a sting operation here, we just find where the statue is and scope out some good ways to access it. Does this look like someplace hard to break into?"

April tilted her head up, trying to see the top of the wall. "Yes."

"That's what they always look like. There's always some backdoor somewhere, and that's where you do your best work. I got this guy who comes in every Wednesday, he will not shut up about lockpicking, maxed it out years ago. I've become a sort of expert."

"Okay, but have you done any?"

"If I learned a thing from watching someone else do the thing, how would I have learned to man a convenience store from a paraplegic?"

"That's got to be easier than lockpicking."

"I refuse to believe that. Now calmate, we're getting here." His mutters became whispers became hushed hisses before he perked up to the unicorn at the front gate who seemed inflicted with an awful case of RBF. "Hey! Ah, two please?"

The unicorn reached down somewhere, and as they were writing on paper, Beher whistled nonchalantly. "Done... good raiding lately?"

The unicorn squinted. "Done good?"

Beher bit his lip. "Nevermind."

They shook their head. "How old is your friend?"

"12." and "35." Both answered at once, shooting looks at each other. April's look said 'Why?' Beher's look said 'We're running this operation on a shoestring budget. Until my paycheck raises, you're twelve.' Beher was better at expressive glances, given the advantage of a complete, undeformed face.

"12." The two repeated in tandem.

The uncaring unicorn passed an adult and child ticket respectively, and the gates creaked open, groaning like it didn't open multiple times a day.

April and Beher crossed out of the heat into the confined shadow of the tunnel boring through the thick walls. At the end lay another set of gates, and as they opened Beher and April's gaits tensed.

"We don't know what's through there." April whispered. "Death, destruction, chaos. Abuse and cage matches. Entertainment for the worst. Stay on your guard."

The heat met them again as they exited, and sound poured into their ears.

The pavilion was an octagon of pavement around a deactivated fountain. At each of the seven ends that didn't extend from the entrance, a path snaked away, sometimes crossing with its siblings, sometimes making detours, sometimes barreling straight for its goal. And what goals they were; food stands, pens with mutated animals, lines for covered booths, smaller buildings leading back into the walls that stretched high to shield the inside. The Carnival was gargantuan, and seemed to extend upwards more than out; rollercoasters, ferris wheels, and other incomprehensibly active machines that made physics work for them, precariously looped around each other like floating strings held aloft by thin but powerful metal bars that extended all the way from the ground floor.

Of course, a wasteland standard is far lower than most; had the Carnival operated pre-war in this condition, it would have been shut down instantly. Every ride was caked in rust and screamed like banshees as its passengers rode over them. Dirt and grime and litter trashed the paths, and even as the machines were in use workers crawled over them like weevils to repair the rapidly crumbling parts as they were used. One paying attention may have noticed the lashes on the three headed manticore held by its legs with tight, fur ripping chains. They might have noticed the nail that suddenly shot out of one of the metal bars holding the rides, beaning a park goer in the eye and knocking them out instantly. But to a Burning Country resident, it may have been the most beautiful thing April and Beher had ever seen.

Overlooking it all was a giant plastic model of Canterlot Castle, each part cartoonishly overexaggerated, but still compact enough to barely reach a tenth of the actual castle's size. In the Carnival, it was easily the centerpiece, and Beher imagined it served a lot of backstage purposes for workers.

And of course, the fountain, bearing a clean stone statue of a rearing headless winged horse. Extending from the neck, barely noticeable, was a plastic tube just the size to fit through the hole they had noticed on head inspection.

April and Beher tried to look everywhere at once as they entered, instantly going for the bench closest to the entrance, next to the dancing pony in the raggedy big-headed green alien costume.

"Whew…" Beher exhaled. "This… is a lot."

"No wonder it's popular." April agreed. "This barely seems like it came out of Burning Country. There are people here."

Beher had noticed it too; surely due in part to its location right where the north met the south, but there were an uncanny amount of people gathered here, enough to make his head swim- at least 15 walking around, and likely more lined up or inside a smaller building. And that discounted the workers.

"So, scope?" April reminded, lifting the bag from her shoulder and pushing it against Beher to jostle him.

"Yeah, right." Beher shook his head. "We'll split ways. We're ordinary tourists."

"Right, and I'm an unaccompanied minor." April reminded with a glower.

Beher passed a sack of bits to April, pressing it into her side discretely. "Ride the rides, eat the food. Pass the time until the after hours to return the head."

"The chip." April grunted, patting her shirt.

"The chip-" Beher bit his lip. "It doesn't matter where they think the chip is. The chip is out in the boonies, is all they know. We're absolved of innocence- and we discuss our next part of the plan after we're out of the crossfires."

"Second best time to discuss plans. Second to 'right now'." April sighed, sliding the pouch beneath her shirt collar. "Meet back here around lunch, see if we can't get an actual meal?"

"That would be nice." Beher agreed. "Probably expensive though."

"We'll be here for one day. Take it easy, hun." She reminded.

"Don't linger around the petting zoo, or you might be chained up."

"Don't stand too still, or the kids might want to take a picture with the dusty statue."

"Good one." Beher groaned, taking April's obligatory kiss before the two stood up and parted ways.

From his perch at the back of the amphitheater, Beher bit into his modestly priced fried Radigator meat as he watched the action unfold in centerstage, the chosen fighter wrestling the young goat into the ground by his neck.

"Wow. I totally misunderstood the name of this event." He muttered to himself.

Unexpectedly, the unicorn sitting next to him overheard. "It happens a lot. They would, but there just isn't a big enough supply of children to make that kind of endeavor bear fruit. It's all about risk and reward in the Carnival business."

Beher looked left and right, then scooched closer. "I take it you're an expert."

"I take it it's your first time!"

"Answer mine and I'll answer yours." Beher responded, before reminding himself that this interrogation wasn't supposed to look like an interrogation.

"Oh, I come here a lot. My goal is to ride each ride at least twice before I die."

"That's a very modest goal."

"I expect a very modest lifespan."

"That makes sense." Beher leaned in. "Alright, what do you say to a pop quiz?"

"Ooh, are they conducting a survey?" The parkgoer's eyes widen excitedly.

"I know I am." Beher confidently non-answered. "In the eyes of a customer, how is the park looking on... Security?"

"Well, the entire layout was designed by a paranoid old woman in the last stages of her life while on heavy drugs. The walls are several hundred feet thick, and the only entrances are those metal gates. Technically, the top is open, and was often used for hot air balloon entrance back in the day, but there's an electrical grid up there to catch stray pegasi... you know, when those were still a thing that lived on Earth." The parkgoer recited.

"Right, go through the gates. When I'm delivering... Uh, knives." Beher stuttered.

"They're restocking those? I really worry customer dissatisfaction may lower the lifespan of that particular attraction." The parkgoer tilted his head.

"Funny, my worry about attraction lifespan is mostly caused by the knives."

The event ended, and Beher found himself caught in the stream of the expert's schedule, meticulously mapped in a pattern spiraling from the outside to the center. Next stop was a ride shaped like rotating shotgun shells, cleaved in half and outfitted with cushions for a cushy conversation amidst the screeching metal against metal.

"Alright, how many workers are there?" Beher pressed.

"About 40, 50 give or take."

"You ever hear any rumors about the workers?"

The parkgoer's face turned stoic. "I do. That the Alien costume doesn't have a dedicated actor, and they just use whoever's on hand."

"About previous work experience."

"None whatsoever. For all I know they were grown in tubes. My knowledge is the same as everyone but Annie's."

The spiral span. Carrying on the conversation, the two found themselves at the first coaster, screaming to be heard over the whistling.

"Who's the Gummy Memorial Thunderdome named after?" Beher demanded, turning upside down and trying not to listen to the unscrewing bolts.

"Original founder's pet alligator." The goer called back.

"Number of visitors on the first day?"

"Two, a lost kid and Annie riding the toy trains around."

"First park co-manager?"

"A Mister Noticeably Three-Eyed, since dishonorably discharged from the company. Is this helping your survey?" The goer struggled to turn his head against the G force, looking with a quizzical squint to Beher.

"No, this is just really impressive to me. You know a lot about this park." Beher screamed.

"I'm making an entire VHS series on the history! Wooooooooo!"

The spiral wound down, and as noon approached, Beher jotted his last note on a stray napkin picked up along the way.

"This has been enlightening." He admitted. "But I'm still a little lost on Annie herself."

"Oh?" The guest munched his cotton candy, looking out from the car of the Ferris Wheel as it lazily carried them over the park from the force of the hamster ball at the center.

"I mean, it's an odd choice, to rejuvenate an old amusement park of all things, right? And it's so... civilized." He swept his hoof over the small crowds they were passing over. "Even at its modest size, this is a lot of people to show up to a Carnival barely a few months after it opens, and before it opened... Well, the Wasteland seems cleaner with it around. That's what bothers me." Beher admitted.

"It seems weird, doesn't it? Change always does." The parkgoer assured. "A lot of people are used to the gist; strange new place opens, new guy gets a bunch of followers, it just screams cult. But it's really just... safe. Maybe a childish place like this was really what Burning Country's tired population needed to really unite over something. It's already cleaned up the place, inspired business... if anything's gonna start a place that kinda looks like old Equestria when you squint, its somewhere like this. Add in some increased security for the natural threats all of the Wasteland brings, and its easy to see where it comes from."

The weight of the head in his bags pulled on Beher's shoulder as he stood and leaned on the side of the car, watching the underneath. 'Kid punching'. They really needed better advertising.

"So that's it? It's really just a carnival with beefed security?"

"Of course!"

The parkgoer paused. "I mean, there's also the Alicorns."

"The what?" Beher blinked.

"Ladies, gentlemen."

A cool female voice that commanded attention sounded out over all the loudspeakers, and the crowds began to amass in the pavilion, looking up to the balcony that extended from the phony Canterlot Castle. As their wheel rotated slowly, Beher and the parkgoer leaned over the barricade to watch.

"Dear hearts and gentle people."

Beher squinted at the two workers coming out from a door at the back of the balcony, taking their place to flank the exit. It took a second to realize their most striking trait; Eerily, uncannily tall, with long folded wings and horns sharp enough to slice wood.

"Friends of Burning Country, Equestria, and nations above and beyond."

Then the centerpiece. She was instantly recognizable; pastels were rare in the south.

The mural had gotten her pretty well; her bright pink pelt that matched the mare of Morale's to a tee, and the stringy, ratty pale parody of the same hue that she called a mane. Her tail didn't even have a curve to it like most ponies; instead, it extended a half inch off her flank before dropping like a rock. Still, despite that, the rest of her was a prim display of appearance, smartly groomed and poise held like a princess ready to make a speech- which, as it turned out, was her intention. If it distracted from the sight of Alicorns, it did its job well- but few seemed bothered by them, implying it was at least partly a common sight.

"I welcome back any old visitors, and greet any new ones." Her eyes scanned the crowd. "We run a tight ship here, and I apologize to you for any cultural clashes you may have experienced while here. For our purposes, you may call me Anarchy Abduction. My friends call me Annie."

The crowd was up in an uproar, workers and visitors alike stomping their approval. "This-" she waved her arms in sweeping gestures, instantly silencing the noise. "-Is the Carnival; like all things, it wasn't ours originally. It was first built by someone very terrible, whose propaganda still corrupts our Wasteland with lies of the past. Come the apocalypse, it was unwillingly released to a public who squandered its purposes. Then, me. While the previous owners no longer have jurisdiction, many of them can still be felt in these walls, the bones of the past under us all. It's what my mother used to call a Fixer Upper."

She smiled kindly before her eyes took on a grim expression.

"You see, friends, despite its history, this place has what no other place in Burning Country has; a tiny shred of pre-war Equestria, that stood tall against the bombs that tore apart our world. Centuries ago when the infamous BED Bomb was fired at Burning Country, I've settled here because I see what all of you see; this place did not stand that tall to be infested with rats, creatures burrowing beneath it to loot and breed in like parasites." She hissed the words, and the entire crowd tensed with her energy. "It stood to fight back, like a flower in the sand, battling against whatever time may bring to grow its roots across the country. Ozymandias has woken up, and he intends to take back what was stolen from him. I intend to take back what was stolen from me, and the youth of tomorrow, with a little help."

She raised her head, proud smile returning as she closed her eyes to absorb the hoof stomping below.

"Burning Country is a tumor, but recovery is possible; and that starts with a place for our youth to grow. We may seem barbaric, but only because the leaders of tomorrow started as the followers of today. I've made myself known by giving you what you want; Now, I intend to give you what you need. Give all of us what we need, not just Burning Country, but all of Equestria. We need recovery. We need life. And it begins with one foothold of civilization, spreading out and unfolding into a land of freedom."

She opened her eyes, and leaned forward, facing the crowd below directly. "I love you all. I love Burning Country. I think, when forced to choose, we all do."

The car touched down.

"See you here tomorrow?" The parkgoer beamed.

"Hey guys, hey, coming through, Diamond Dog, don't mind me..."

April delicately muscled her way through lines, adjusting to the high volume of people slowly while clearly standing out- she swore she even heard a 'Hey, is that April?' from one of the parkgoers as she tried to find some place to settle down and blend in.

The park was built around the paths that zig-zagged between attractions, larger on the outside and going in to the bare minimum, food stands around the Carnival. April was trying not to let anything catch her eye, far too aware of her inability to ignore the types of kiddy games advertised here- how often did you find a working pinball machine in Burning Country?- and instead kept herself walking aimlessly along the paths. It felt wrong to play here like she was another tourist.

Like she hadn't killed someone who worked here.

April shook her head. Her shortsightedness seemed to have led her off the path, and she looked down in annoyance at the pavement that kept getting buried out of sight under the sand. She didn't seem to be the only one who had ever been lost here; footsteps criss-crossed willy nilly where the pavement left.

And following those footsteps, a trail of cleared sand, like a dragged object.

April curiously followed the path, fitting her feet into it to try and gauge what something this large could be, so callously dragged through the sand after apparently having been carried the first half of the journey. Or... dropping out of the sky? The path began in the middle of the criss-cross of footsteps of countless visitors, and didn't seem to have a viable origin point.

Following it behind a metal building, April peered over to where it led- a metal hatch laid diagonally against the back concrete wall. April felt her paws at it, trying to fit them under the hoof-sized handle at one end, and grunting in annoyance.

Finally it slid open, and she took a step back with a pant, peering down the stone steps into the tunnels underneath. Technically, it could've been a room- she could barely see a foot down. But her money was on tunnels- it would explain why she saw so few workers moving between locations. Preserved the magic, she supposed.

Something pressed against her back and she turned with a yelp, meeting an all-too-big smiling face.

"Howdy, stranger! Gotten lost?"

She exhaled in relief. The alien mascot was still dancing some kind of improvised jig, clearly weighed down by the heavy outfit in muggy heat.

"Uh... No, I-I just lost my way. The sand..."

"Aw, that's a darn shame! You wanna come back with little old me and play skee-ball?"

"I'm... an adult..." April awkwardly deflected.

The Alien Costume kept dancing, unnerving smile staring into her.

On second thought, it was better to take the ride back and hopefully deflect suspicion. Surely she wasn't the first customer to find such an obvious hatch.

"...You have skee-ball?"

"Come on, up and over..."

"Your hoof is smushing my nose..."

April groaned as Beher lifted his hindleg over the top of the gate, and pushing off her snout, pulled himself over to fall to the sand below with a huff. A minute later, the empty control booth was commandeered, and the gates were opened.

Hanging around the park hadn't been as viable of an option, and Beher doubted there were hotels; the majority of the guests also didn't seem sure where to go when they left, and Beher was sure he had caught a few lingering suspiciously long by the gates without actually crossing them. When night had fallen, it was time to finally put their plan to work.

"Easier than I expected." Beher admitted as the two reunited. "Shouldn't there be guards?"

"Count your blessings, Beher, things don't always go this well for us." April reminded. "Now please please please, tell me you have the head."

The flap of the bag opened, and April peered inside, exhaling gladly and running a shaking paw over her brow.

This was it; nut up or shut up. Beher's flashlight beam swept across the Carnival's empty attractions, catching in contrast the clouds of dust that seemed to emanate from the ground. At night, the creaking of suspended rickety beams overhead became far more imposing- paradoxically when passengers, in all reality, made it more dangerous. A threat existed; Beher just preferred to see it when it was coming.

"I can hear you humming, if you can get whatever song's in your head out for five seconds..." Beher hissed after recovering from a brief heart drop.

"Music calms me down." April defended.

"You saw the speech she gave, right?" Beher spoke up.

"It was kind of hard not to. She even had loudspeakers in some of the buildings, best I heard. But what about it? It seemed like a history lesson. At least it answered a few questions."

Beher shook his head. "That wasn't all. Alicorns. Working for a mortal. It's like cats working for a rat, and apparently they've become normal over about a month since they first showed up."

"Don't be mean to them."

"I mean them SHOWING UP is normal. 'Delegations', they've been called. That's all I found out when I asked."

"You heard Annie- she wants to rebuild society, starting from her vantage point. Well, a guard of unkillable mini-gods are a pretty good way to go about that from the safety of your own home." Annie pointed out in her dull whisper.

"But why do the Alicorns care? If anything, they'd want the opposite. You've heard how they get their rocks off to Unity. Annie must have something they want, and are willing to bide their time for. Something they're actively looking for." He added in reminder. "What the hell could be valuable out here?"

"I don't know, but if such a thing as value exists in Burning Country, Annie's gonna hoard it." April pondered.

One side lit by ghastly yellow light, the headless Celestia statue still dripped the last remains of water from the phallic pipe as they approached, wings spread white and legs lifted to kick the air, appeared more like an angry spirit than a triumphant majesty.

April and Beher took a few seconds to let the sight sink in before the dog nudged her companion out of his stupor.

"C'mon, Ichabod." April stepped a paw into the dry bed surrounding the base, and crouched down with her hands cupped out to Beher. "Not the face this time." She hissed.

Beher hugged his forelegs around April's neck with an oomph as his body was lifted, practically suplexed back to come face to face with where the head should be and scrambling around his bags, taking the head and dropping the rest into the bed. April sighed and shifted her shoulders as weight was shed.

"I'm gonna turn around. More back support." She whispered, getting an affirmative tap on her shoulder in response. Lifting Beher by his flanks, April turned around to lean on the statue with her paws on its neck.

"C'mon, c'mon..." She whispered forcefully.

Beher rested the head on, carefully lining up the edges to find it fit like a glove onto the tube- only to realize it needed to be screwed on, taking it off, and readjusting to make sure the head faced forward.

"It's on!"

With an exhale, April folded, her squishy body catching Beher like a pillow as they collapsed into a heap and nurturing her sore shoulders.

"We did it." Beher sighed happily, cradling his head.

"We did it." April flashed a fang. "High five?"

The two raised their respective limbs and slapped them together.

A loud slap echoed from the impact point through the derelict park.

Twin flashlight beams kicked on, facing directly towards them.

"Good morning." A feminine voice icily greeted. "Park's closed, ladies and gentlemen."

Against the blinding light, April adjusted first, squinting at the pink-maned woman watching them, flanked by the two flashlight carrying workers. She sucked air in sharply.

"That might've been me." She sheepishly admitted, recalling the mascot.

"Both of you, actually." Annie smiled cordially. "Don't discuss secret plans on a park bench in broad daylight."

"I'll get the other guy."

A single hushed sentence from behind him was the only noise Beher was sure he had actually heard during the voyage through the tunnels he had been ushered into under a metal panel behind one of the attractions. Fear had kept him moving forward, but until he exited, he wasn't even sure the guards were still behind him, although April's incessant sniffing betrayed her position. Alone in its isolation, his brain had invented noises for him to hear- he was fairly certain there was nothing slithering down there, for the simple fact that if there was, it would have killed him on the spot with his luck. So further and further they went into the warm, vaguely meat-scented tunnel that felt like diving down something's throat.

As suspected, the castle's interior clearly wasn't meant for public viewing. It was almost entirely wooden structural support for the plastic shell meant to go over it. But after the brief claustrophobic journey through the tunnels, the castle was a welcome relief of moonlight.

The panel that led into the hollow interior was lifted and Beher was given no subtle reminder that he was still at gunpoint. He kept moving, and was surprised to find Annie hadn't exited with them, although it didn't seem to perturb the guards. His best guess was that she had gone on ahead of them, as she hadn't spoken a word the entire time since they had been sealed into the dark.

The only discernible landmark in the unfinished labyrinth was the polished entrance to the balcony he had previously seen Annie speak from, and their apparent destination wasn't too far from it.

"Sit." They were instructed. Wasn't like there was much else to do.

Beher was pissed, to say the least. It felt like twice now they had been so close to getting this off their chest and going back to the safety and comfort of the Stuff n Things. But then again, suppose they had succeeded; they were at the end of his 'plan'. The next step was to con the businessman a third time- evil or not, she still had a hell of a muscle division- and then pray everything worked out alright. The message of the story was starting to feel clear to him.

"Do you guys know a Shackleset?" April quietly asked from next to him.

A door so cleanly cut from the wood they had barely noticed it opened, and they were ushered into the only part of the phony castle that passed for a 'room'. The walls and floors were actually painted, furniture had been moved in, but every piece seemed to point in towards the centerpiece; Annie herself behind her desk at the back.

Chairs were pulled out. Beher sat up straight, made eye contact, and kept his breathing level.

Annie licked her lips, cleared her throat, and began calmly. "Three days ago, the head of our centerpiece statue was stolen under us from someone too oblivious to realize we recorded the entire thing. Two days ago, one of my own ventured out to track them down and kill them. Today, two guests are caught attempting to reattach the head. There's a discrepancy here. Would you do me a favor and spot it?"

There was a game here. Beher's move. Customer service time. "Your underling is dead. A resident recently began breeding Radscorpions, and... you know how deadly they can be." A believable lie, with alibi and proof should she choose to look.

Annie didn't seem to buy what was being sold. Her stare made her place on the food chain clear; she was at the top, and anyone else was on the bottom, miles below her. "And you took it upon yourself to take the head?"

"Politeness is Burning Country policy."

"And yet you weren't polite enough to come to me, face to face. Or one of my workers. You chose to sneak in under cover of darkness and attempt to do the heroing yourself, which, might I be the one to tell you, is exactly what the original thief took it upon themselves to do." Annie retorted, gesturing slowly in a small circle.

Play to what she wanted. "I hope you aren't offended by me saying so, but... I was scared. You certainly make a presence for yourself."

"None taken." Annie gesticulated a lot when she talked; her hooves always found somewhere to be, currently at her lower lip. "But I find your wording curious. 'I' was scared." She turned to April. "Is there anything you'd like to add?"

Beher kept a poker face, slowly turning to April, who was not. Damned twisted jaw- he briefly considered using that excuse, but you didn't have to be an expert to realize it was more than that. She was tightly clutching her stomach again, shifting uneasily away from a spot on the chair's back, and her blinking was rapid and tight.

"I don't often see dogs here. They used to be a lot more common, I'm sure you know. They didn't adapt well to the heat, the shallow ground, the predators... Your very existence is impressive. What's your name?" Annie pressed.

April faltered at this, stuttering unsurely, until-

"April."

The room turned to the worker who had talked, who straightened his posture obediently when his boss's eyes fell on him.

"You know this one?" Annie inquired.

The worker took a breath. "She's... rather famous around here. I mean... she, she's a community worker. For the community."

Shit. Nobody was going to recognize a convenience store worker. A girl whose appearance was half of her job, that was a different story. Must everything work against him?

"April." Annie tasted the word, turning back to the seated. "That's a lovely name, although I may be a bit biased. Were you with your friend...?"

"Beher." He amended.

"...Your friend when he discovered my underling?"

Lie lie lie lie lie- She asked the guards if they knew Shackle when they came in. Tell the truth tell the truth tell the truth tell the truth

"Yes." April nodded with a heavy weight to her chin's fall, and Beher turned back calmly.

"Remind me again, April... how did he die?" Annie felt for her own chin.

April took a steady breath. Her fur dampened in a streak down her forehead. Her nose twitched. Her grip on her stomach tightened.

Under the desk, Beher patted her leg discretely.

April blinked. "Radscorpion got him. He was dead in seconds."

Annie nodded. "May I have the head?"

The sculpture was retrieved from the saddlebags, and passed across the desk to Annie, who inspected it over, before humming in satsifaction.

"I see no reason to delay you any further. Thank you for your kind act. You've helped me a great deal." Annie smiled genuinely, and nodded her respect. "We're in the middle of a rather important process, and things have been hectic lately. I apologize for my rudeness. That being said, I'll still have to ask you to leave. Would you like an escort?"

Beher and April stood quickly, fumbling for their bags. "Ah, no, that's okay. We're quite alright." Beher assured, opening the door behind him. "It was no trouble. We'll... be sure to come back some time."

Both filed out, and the door was closed.

Annie stared at the exit for another minute. Neither of her guards moved as she turned back to the head, peeking an eye into the hole at the base of the neck and inspecting it with a delicate hoof.

She shook it, listening to the hollow emptiness.

Annie inhaled deeply before regaining her composure.

"Shoot to kill. Bring me their corpses, please." She instructed. The two workers flipped the safety off their weapons.

Annie sat back in her chair, resting her hooves at her chin again. If it wasn't one thing, it was the other, it seemed. Her initial plan was to have all her loose ends wrapped up by tomorrow in time for dinner. She may have had to push it a little overtime, she mused, but at the end of the day the result was the same. Soon enough, the pest would be gone, and she could get to work on the rest.

She didn't like these respites from work, no matter how brief. It gave her time to think.

"We did it!"

"Hell yeah, April!" Beher cheered, rearing onto his front legs to kick the air behind him. "You did great!"

"Doggod, I thought I was going to throw up!" April panted, one arm wrapping around Beher's barrel and pulling him into a tight bone breaking hug.

"But you didn't! You pulled it off spectacularly! We're in the clear!" Beher gasped with the relief of a 10 pound weight off one's back.

"We're in the clear!"

April howled to the moon unrestrained, then pulled her smaller buddy in for a kiss.

There was a bang, then a shoop of something speeding right through the inch-wide distance between their lips.

Beher's mouth fell open.

"Run."

A reload clicked behind them as April seized Beher like a football and bolted for it, ducking behind a row of food carts down main street under the assumption they wouldn't shoot their own property. That hope turned out to be misplaced.

Wood chips exploded through a particularly thin popcorn stand, just where April had been. Clutching the pony to her chest, she jumped into a roll behind the beheaded Celestia statue, scampering on three limbs towards the entry gates.

Another shot cleaved through one of the metal bars on the gate. Without stopping, April shifted her hands to Beher's belly and rump, and chucked him over the gate with all her force before shifting kinetic energy into her shoulder to slam through the metal.

Clang. Turned out to be sturdier than she expected.

"GET THE CONTROLS!" April screamed, clutching the bars frantically as Beher ran for the controller's booth.

The bottom of the first gate creaked open, and April shrank from another missed shot before flattening herself like a rat and squirming under. Beher let go of the crank he was spinning as he was grabbed again, and the wheel spun back to close the second gate just as April slid through the wider gap.

That would buy them some seconds, but it wasn't like they could lock the guards in their own building. April's pads slapped against the recently cooled pavement as she crossed the parking lot into the sand dunes, immune to Beher's squirms and cries of "I can run, damnit!"

"There's nowhere to hide! It's too flat!" April gasped. Her physiology gave her an edge on speed, but the majority of the doggish agility she could have had was cancelled out by her weight.

"Too much to call on a pegasus again?" Beher crossly growled.

One dune was ever so taller than the rest. April slid down the curve, dropping Beher to roll in a heap next to her, both of them covered in sand. Already they could hear the gates opening, less than a hundred feet away.

April grabbed her knees, shaking. "W-We fucked up. I don't know how, but we fucked up."

"She was on to us from the start, but never mind the bigger picture. We need to keep her guards from stomping us like bugs!" Beher jumped onto April's lap, grabbing her chin and looking desperately into her eyes.

April faltered, gulping and thinking quickly.

Only a foot away, a gun was trained on the back of each their heads. The worker with the battle saddle grinned as he fit both of them at the end of each his barrels, taking the trigger in his mouth and opening wide to bite down with a vengeance.

"Halt, citizen!"

The worker turned around. Clad in a deep lavender hood, with a long purple hat and a swooping cloak, the masked man blended perfectly into the night, although not so much into the sand.

"Who the hell are you?" The worker blinked.

"The stallion of the night, protector of the wasteland, Mare Do Well! Let us not resort to violence! How may I help you, citizen?"

Without another thought, the worker took out a knife and drove it through the idiot's halloween costume, watching them drop bemusedly. Not even worth a wasted bullet.

When the worker turned away from the suited idiot and realigned his shot, his targets were gone.

He dumbfoundedly scratched his head, crossing to where they had been and looking all around. Nothing but sand dunes and the Carnival in the direction he had come from for miles. Shaking his head exasperatedly, he spit out the trigger on the reins and turned back to his partner to deliver the bad news.

Several minutes after his footsteps had faded, April's head burst out from the ground, sand exploding around her as she coughed.

"'They didn't adapt to the shallow ground'. Screw you, Annie. Don't doubt a dog again." She spat.

Saving herself had been easy. Burrowing underground was second nature to a Diamond Dog.

Saving Beher had been significantly harder.

Footnote: Level Up! (90)

New Perk Added: Sh-Boom - Firearm proficiency increased. Not usage- Identification. The metal object being pointed at you? Yeah, that's a gun.

Chapter 3: Children of Burning Country

Chapter Three: Children of Burning Country

"Everybody's stressed, yes! But they press through the mess

Bounce checks and wonder what's next, in the heights!

I buy my coffee and I go set my sights

On only what I need to know!"

Beher slipped in and out of consciousness, only picking up a few sensations each time; a tight grip around his entire body, the smell of meat, water in his ears.

When he finally woke up, his surroundings matched none of those feelings. He was on grimy tile, staring up into fluorescent lights, and he briefly wondered if his afterlife would just be more stocking shelves.

But he knew the smell of Stuff n Things. This wasn't it. It smelt like someone had tried to clean, but hadn't actually gone farther than febreezing the entire room and leaving.

He sat up, rubbing his head, and turned to April next to him, watching him rise with a dull expression.

"Good morning." He unsurely greeted. "Are you okay?"

She clutched her stomach. "I don't think I'll ever be okay again."

Beher slid next to her, both of them lying against a wall, and took in his surroundings. Stalls, sinks, mirrors, a wooden door across from them.

Then memory came back to him. "Your breath stinks."

"That's all you've got to say?"

"I think I'm in shock. You didn't seem big enough."

"It hurt." She whined. "But you're really skinny."

Beher rubbed his cheek, pulling it away wet. "You ate me."

"I'm not too proud of it either. Ponies aren't good at breathing underground. Diamond Dogs are. It was take you under the sand with me or abandon you. I think it says something that that's not the worst thing to happen to me tonight."

"You ate me." Beher repeated. "Where are we?"

"Home of the biggest Rubber Band Ball in Burning Country. A lot of tourist traps sprung up around the Carnival to try and rake in some extra bits." April muttered.

Beher reached for a prick in his back, pulling off a bleached fish skeleton and tossing it away. He wanted to stay mad, but his anger ebbed when he saw April's blank stare at the ground. "April?"

"They recognized me. That worker. People know me around here. And if I've made an enemy of the Carnival..." She choked a sob. "I've lost my job."

"Oh, April..." Beher reached to hug her, wrapping his forelegs tight around her midsection, head nestled comfortingly beneath her bosom.

"The one Diamond Dog left down here. All the rest of my kin are up north, people fear them. Hate them. I was the one chance to build up a good example for us, to rise above our history and make a name- That April, isn't she great?" She set her head on her knees. "There's nothing left for me. I just wanted to help out, Beher."

"I know. We both did." Beher soothed.

"In what, two days? Two days and I'm a thief and a murderer."

April broke down, hugging Beher into her like a stuffed animal. In the quiet hums of the flickering lights, they embraced. Beher looked for any words to try and fix things, coming up dry.

He pulled away. "April... the chip was in our bags. Where is it?"

She sniffed, looking down at her protruding stomach. "It didn't come out...?"

Beher rubbed softly, and with a cough and a choke, April spit the tiny metallic device onto her shirt. Beher delicately picked it up, and sighed.

"April... Burning Country isn't worth this. It's not worth you. We're in this boat together. We can't be far from the border can we? I say..." He pressed the chip into her chest, looking her in the eye. "I say we just leave."

April's eyes widened. "Beher, the store..."

"It's a convenience store. It can survive. It's not the wasteland. It's not you. April, I'm going down with you no matter what, and if you're wanted than so am I. Do you want to be a good example for your kind? Don't do it in Burning Country. Let's go north, where it's needed. Finally go where the water and food comes from. Nobody will know about the Carnival. You get your job back, your reputation. I've got some skills, I'll figure something out. As long as we're together, we'll figure it out."

April looked away. "We're leaving the Carnival..."

"There's always someone wanting to take over Equestria, bring back the old world, kill everyone. I don't want to dodge bullets and fight bad guys, April. I just want to make dumb jokes behind the counter and laugh at customers."

She still didn't meet his gaze. "I... guess..."

"Okay?"

"Alright." She said glumly. "We're not far from the border. But our bags-"

"Burn that bridge when we get to it. We can't stay here, April. Somewhere this close in a country full of nothing, we'll be the first place they check."

Beher pushed off the squishy form. "Pack your stu- Err, just clean yourself up. We're getting out of here."

She raised her eyebrow, spirits raised enough to snark. "Clean myself up?"

Beher smelled at his fur, blanching. "Ergh. Alright, both of us."

"That's it?"

"Pretty big, eh?"

One last stop before leaving. April and Beher crowded around the grapefruit sized ball of rubber bands.

April scratched her head. "I mean, it's okay. I guess from all the hype, I expected, like... the size of the house?"

"It's getting there! We add to it every day, hoo boy!" The owner happily advertised.

"It's..." Beher rolled his eyes. "Yeah, it's alright."

"Want a shirt?" The owner grinned.

When fillies wanted to play in Pre-War Equestria, they would get pails and shovels and play around in a sand box. Beher had seen one in a magazine once, some article about childbirth rates going down. It had puzzled him when he saw it, but so had a lot of the old magazines the store carried that nobody bothered with. Why would any kid want more sand? What was the purpose of the pail? To drag it into the house, the one place without sand?

Sometimes he forgot there were other places that weren't Burning Country. He tried to imagine them as he walked, looking around and seeing miles and miles of ice, or stone, or water in place of the sand. It was all he could imagine the lands north looking like.

He wasn't certain grass was real, although he had heard stories.

"Think we should've waited until the sun came up?" April murmured.

"We'll be fine. It's cooler this way. We'd have collapsed in hours if we went out during the day." Beher looked up to the moonlit clouds, a shining silver carpet hovering above them.

"Alright. Let's just pace ourselves."

"Yeah... I try." Beher sighed.

Thinking of ice only made Beher more thirsty. Conversation with April kept him sane; it was funny to think how much their conversations in Stuff n Things behind the counter, arguing over whether Daring Do or the Stable Dweller would win a fight, had prepared them for an experience like this. What got him the most was the lack of campfires. Where were they, this far from civilization, even for Burning Country standards?

If anything- even a Bloatsprite- got to them, they were toast on a bun.

"April, if I die before you, you get to eat me, alright?" He joked.

"Heh. Let's not. Two in one week is enough for me, I'm full." April stuck her tongue out, rubbing her stomach.

"Don't knock it until you try it. Mm, Bones and flesh."

"Try it? I'm carnivorous." April cheekily reminded him.

"I know, it was a real source of worry for me those first few years when I met you. You were a weird chick to me. You still are. I've just gotten used to it. What was that I said to you the first time we met that you've never let me forget?"

April rolled her eyes and opened her mouth, faltering and stuttering, then closing it and looking down at the sand.

"I... I don't... remember..." She said, tiredness biting the edges of her voice.

Days and days, but most likely just minutes later, April replied "You commented on my jaw."

"Hmm?"

"The first time. 'Woah, someone got into a hell of a fight.' You used to be more of an ass to customers."

"It was genuine, I genuinely thought you had come out of a fight! I was worried for you, April!" Beher defended.

"I know, hun, I know. Still funny to me."

"Heh. You never explained it."

April shook her head slowly. "It's nothing interesting. Just a birth defect. We're hardly ever born normal. The combination of no hospitals in the post apocalypse, radiation, and the fact that my kind often inbred out of a lack of options didn't really do much for me."

"Yeesh. That doesn't hurt?"

She rested her paw on her chin, feeling it experimentally. "It tends to be numb. It's more helpful than not, actually. Easier to swallow large objects."

"Good thing that will never come in handy."

"You slay me."

Where the clouds met the horizon, a golden line was beginning to form. Beher held up the water chip, watching light reflect in wavy shapes across its face.

"How do you suppose this thing works?"

"Magic, I'll bet." April slowed to a stop behind him, pushing on his head and reminding him to keep walking.

"Magic, magic, magic, that's all anything uses nowadays." Beher griped, putting away the chip. "The day I have to put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger with my tongue is the day I accidentally blow my own head off."

"Can't even use memory orbs." April reminded.

"Can't even use memory orbs!" Beher agreed. "That's where all the good porn is kept!"

"I'll bet a unicorn needs to activate it. Good thing those are fuckin abundant out here."

Beher chuckled, wiping sweat off his brow and looking ahead. "How far from the border, do you reckon?"

"My question is when does the cloud layer end? Surely it doesn't cover the entire planet."

"I wouldn't doubt it. Pegasi are something else."

"You know, some people would say that about Diamond Dogs." April reminded.

"I knew you were different from the moment I met you." Beher smiled in memory. "The jaw's not what stuck out to me first. You were always smiling. That's not really the mark of a ruthless predator with a gun for an arm."

April didn't seem sure how to respond.

"The War Dogs up north really suck, but I've got to admit; They look cool as hell."

"I'm just a gigolo... and everywhere I go... people know the part I'm playing..." April howled to the clouds, eyes scrunched shut as she dragged her feet. "And there will come a day... when youth will pass away... what will they say about me? When the end comes I know, I'm just a gigolo..."

"...Hey April?"

"Yeah, hun?"

"The sun's... not supposed to come up that way, is it?"

Both of them turned to the glowing clouds far ahead of them.

"Doggod. Hun, we've been going east. We're going for the ocean." April sighed. "That's why there are no campfires."

Beher was out of angst and gripes.

"Beher, we both grew up here. Are we... doing the right thing? Just leaving someplace like this?"

Without a response, he turned tail and headed North, then kept trudging.

Half an hour later, they still refused to address their mistake. Beher's eyes were anvils now, but he kept talking to preoccupy himself and more importantly, keep April awake.

"Your ears... are better than mine. Did you hear anything down there? In the tunnels, being taken to Annie?"

"This was a mistake." April moaned.

"Focus, April... focus, girl. Did you hear anything? Smell anything?"

"I didn't want to leave, I really didn't. Everyone's... gonna die because of me..." April deliriously groaned, ignoring Beher.

"April, please, you gotta listen to me. Did you hear anything at all down in the tunnels? Any machines, anything at all?"

April fell silent.

"Smelled meat. The walls... were breathing." She exhaled, ears flopping down dejectedly.

"April... get up. Come on, we're almost there."

Beher felt... drowsy. His neck was hot. His back was hot. His nose was hot. Sweat was snaking into his every corner, and evaporating just as fast. As hard as it was wandering through sand, wandering through sand under the full heat trapped between clouds and a hard place was ten trillion times worse. The dunes shimmered around them as Beher tried to worm his way under April's body to lift her onto his back.

"Come on, buddy... Get up, big bones, we're almost there..."

He pushed against the ground, throwing all his force into lifting her up... and collapsed, her full weight crushing him to the ground, only his forelegs and head poking out from under her prone form. The water chip rolled in the sand to fall just out of his reach.

The desert went on forever. The roads were buried. Where was everybody? Surely there should have been a few vagabonds around somewhere.

Beher knew how spoiled he was, running a store that gave out water. He always had first helpings, while the others dragged themselves to him. Well, here was his comeuppance. Joy to Equestria.

He loved Burning Country. He was starting to find out the best part of it; you never left.

A shadow fell over him, and the chip was levitated up in a violet aura.

Beher passed out.

For the second time that day, Beher woke up coughing, choking on liquid. Just as he was about to yell for April to let him out, he opened his eyes to see the bottle that had been forced betwixt his lips.

Cool, cool water, the purest and most chilled he had ever tasted. Where the hell did this come from, the Arctic?

He leaned forward, giving up dignity to be nursed like a child with the rest of the bottle before collapsing back against something hard and wooden. There was a gushing sound next to him. A tap?

He turned eagerly, eyes widening. Towering over him was a purple Alicorn, watching him with a trained stare, two more identically colored just behind her. Without breaking gaze, she pressed her horn to the chip, and from the tiny metal device poured an endless flow of water into the plastic bottle.

Beher gulped. "Err... Hi. I suppose this is a rescue?"

"We apologize. But we have our orders, Beher of the Stuff n Things."

Beher's eyes crossed as a memory wafted back to him. "...Ah. Hello, girls. Wasn't it nice the other day when I served you that water? Weren't those good times? We should go back to those."

"Twas a very good time. And we returned the favor."

Only then did he realize what he was leaning against; A familiar paw tugged at his ear, and he turned to the larger mass of fur and flesh behind him, sat down at an awkward angle to his back- which only made sense given they were tied together.

"Hey, Beher. We might not be leaving for a while." She smiled nervously.

"A drink for a drink, Beher. You will not die thirsty."

Jurisdiction over his own body returned to Beher as he was dumped in a heap onto the sand, and the slack he had left in the ropes tightened around April. Beher coughed out sand as he rolled away, struggling to his feet and receiving a rather nasty blow from the butt of a hand cannon for his troubles.

"Stay." He was commanded as he raised his head to the barrel and sighed.

"Alicorns? Working for Annie?" He exasperatedly prodded, mind racing. They were offering him a lot of leeway. He had to make the most of it. "That doesn't seem like something the Goddess would agree to on a normal day."

"The Goddess has the skill and manpower to assess even the slightest possible threat to her and eliminate it before it rears its ugly head. And she intends to do so."

"And how is Annie a threat to her?"

"Anarchy Abduction of the North could never in ten thousand years hope to be a threat. But her property has a rather serious bug problem that does."

Beher smelled a metaphor, thinking back woozily to everything he had learned so far. Underground tunnels. Breathing. He barely remembered it before passing out, but April had definitely said the walls were 'breathing'. "Must be a hell of a bug."

"You could say that. Please remain still." The closest purple Alicorn cocked its weapon and set it between his eyes.

Calmness under pressure only lasted him so long. "Wait, wait, wait! H-how did you know where to find us?"

"We did not. It was a happy accident to run into you. Had we known you would be wanted, our sisters would have seized you when they ran across you in the cattle cart. We came here for another purpose. Anarchy Abduction wishes for us to double the searches you last caught us on." She smoothly replied without taking her eyes away from the target.

"Y-You need to find something! I know Burning Country like the back of my hoof. Everyone who comes through here, all the stories they've got, all the hiding spots. Please, just tell me what she needs!" He was throwing all his chips into one gamble here, but there wasn't much choice left. Sweat was running down his cheeks in oceans from the combined heat of the pressure and the desert air.

This time, the Alicorn said nothing, and in the two seconds between the safety flicking off and when the trigger would be pulled, Beher's life flashed before his eyes. Amongst the receipts, check outs, restocks, meetings with The Boss...

"Th-the-th- THE BOMB!"

He scrunched his eyes shut. The shot never came, and he quickly kept going.

"Th-the Balefire-Egg Dropping Bomb. It was built to flare drop Balefire Eggs, like a helicopter. But not all of them went off. There are a few undetonated eggs." By now, he was making assumptions, tying together what he knew. "They would've dropped in a path towards the Bomb's final landing zone, which is where you're checking along, isn't it? But I know where the last one is, and it went much further than the rest. I see it damn near every month. If this monster you're worried about- the one that lives under the Carnival- is a Goddess-level threat, there's no way a single Egg is killing it. But it spreads fire, and if you used it as the trigger for a bunch of smaller charges, like dynamite, thermals, whatever- you could do a lot of damage with a little. Just like how they used to detonate buildings."

The Alicorns looked amongst themselves, discussing telepathically. They turned back to Beher.

"You have figured out a lot more than we expected. Such information is indeed valuable."

Crisis averted.

"Which is why it will now be extracted from your brain."

Beher's growing smile fell in an instant. "Ah."

"Telepathy has its perks. It was a valiant effort." The Alicorn sympathized, and moved in again, lighting an aura around her horn.

Somehow, catching lightning was easier the second time. "Y-you can't read minds!" Beher scrambled back into the sand.

The Alicorn's face scrunched up with confusion.

"Your ingenuity impressed us the first time. But your final, life saving gambit is... to try and convince the mind readers that they can't read minds?" She asked curiously.

"I believe you can peer into my head, and I believe you can make out my thoughts. But I don't believe you know what you're looking at. In Unity, you all share thoughts. It's easy to talk to each other when you all think the exact same way. But for an individual, no two pony brains work the same way."

The Alicorns were once again faltering. Screw gunfights; This was where Beher excelled. Bargaining for his life was just a more stressful version of haggling for inflated prices.

"We have hundreds of trains of thoughts running in our heads at once. A-and they aren't Ponish." He continued, catching his breath to calm down. "If someone grows up never being taught how to speak, would they be a braindead vegetable? Of course not. The mind speaks an untranslatable language, and every mind forms its own. Even for someone as powerful as The Goddess, it's not possible to kn-know them all. Stress is only gonna make my brain work twice as hard, and your job twice as hard along with it."

He finally sat up, watching the Alicorn's face darken. This time, there were no shared glances, just nervous fidgets.

"We sense a counterproposal." She spoke.

"Get your Goddess on Hive-Mind Line 1. I've got a better plan, one that gets the bomb, takes out the bug, and minimizes the amount of time she has to work for anyone. Someone as... great as her doesn't want to work for Annie, right?"

"You say all this without even knowing what this threat Is."

Beher steeled his nerves. "It's a giant monster of some kind. April heard it underground, and Annie mentioned something like that in her speech. I'll burn that bridge when I get to it. It's got me this far, right?"

The Alicorn nodded solemnly.

"You've won a powerful ally, Beher of the Stuff n Things. Unity salutes you. We pray the Goddess will as well. Now, where is this undetonated Egg?"

"Sir?"

Goddess be damned, Beher already had an ally in the scariest force the Wasteland offered.

"Sit down, sit down. If it isn't Beher. My favorite employee."

The Alicorns were restless as they sat behind Beher, forming an intimidating entourage his Boss didn't bat an eye at. The journey to the Boss' house had been made in terse silence, but those seconds of silence were seconds where there was no gun pointed at Beher. Those were damn good seconds.

"And who are your friends?"

"These are... Err... Trainees." He looked to them pleadingly, and none of them made a move to correct him. "Mister Sir. If you wouldn't mind, can you tell me where you were at when the Bombs fell?"

"Ah, you've come for that story?" The Boss winked chummily, reaching for his mug of dirty water and sawdust. "I'm sure you've heard it often enough to tell me. I was at home..."

"Working on your bomb shelter." Beher impatiently prompted.

"Of course, of course, when I heard a whistling sound..."

"Like the whistle of a schoolgirl on a playground." Beher quoted.

"Well, I said to my wife, I said to her, 'Surely they must be selling us cookies!' It was a good one, eh? I was proud of that one."

"Very funny, sir."

His eyes clouded over, and his jaw hung open to catch a syllable as he looked off. "Ah... And then, of course, memory fails me here... My head isn't what it used to be, eh old boy? But of course, when I woke up... Well, I seemed to be missing something... My ear? My eyes?"

"Your legs?"

"Right, of course. And sitting in front of me, amidst my family photo albums and my wife, there was a peculiar green sphere."

Beher looked behind him, at the rubble pile awash with green light, radiation the Alicorns soaked in like sunlight. He fidgeted in his Hazmat suit, already feeling the powerful itch pushing through the weak rubber.

"And where would that sphere be now?"

His boss flashed a winning, rotted smile. "Why, it never left, dear boy!"

Come mid afternoon, the Cart was dragged back, and a wad of yellow hazmat suit wrapped around an unmistakable green glow was carted back in the Carnival cage. In the tunnels under the Carnival, Annie smiled and nodded in satisfaction at the Alicorns as they approached.

"You've done your job excellently." She dropped to her flank and clapped her forehooves together, eyes widening. "Now, care to join me for dinner tonight?"

The three purple Alicorns shook their heads in unison. "We apologize, Anarchy Abduction of the North. But our orders have changed."

Without hesitation, Annie turned ugly, scowling and spitting her words. "If that peanut butter cracker-eating blowhard is so worried about the big bad wolf, she shouldn't change her demands on a whim so much. What the hell does she want now?"

The lead purple Alicorn stepped forward, and her face lost its calmness, features contorting before her eyes shone white, and a new beast spoke from her. Hundreds of voices ringing like individual strings in the same instrument, wailing in pain somehow all formed sickening pride when put together.

{{THAT 'BLOWHARD' HAS DEEMED HER SUBSERVIENCE TO YOU UNNEEDED! SHE HAS FOUND SOMEONE MUCH LESS DEMANDING! IF THE GODDESS IS GOING TO LOWER HERSELF TO A WHELP, SHE PREFERS TO SPEND AS LITTLE TIME AS POSSIBLE THERE! NOT ATTEND *DINNERS* WITH STUCK UP MORTALS WHO THINK THEMSELVES ABOVE HER!}}

Annie answered unafraid, bold in her presumed safety. "Oh? And who would this new party be? More raiders?"

Beher finally showed himself, stepping out from behind the bomb. Despite himself, he smiled smugly. He wasn't often smug. This time was deserved, he felt.

Annie groaned. "There's always one more complication, isn't there?"

{{LISTEN CLOSELY, 'ANNIE'. IT SHOULD SAY SOMETHING TO YOU WHEN A CONVENIENCE STORE OWNER, FOR ALL HIS PITIFULNESS, IS TEN THOUSAND TIMES GREATER AND MORE POWERFUL THAN YOU ARE. THE GODDESS WORKED WITH YOU OUT OF NECESSITY. NOW THAT THAT HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE TIME IS OVER, SHE CAN FINALLY TELL YOU WHAT SHE THINKS OF YOU. YOU ARE A MICROSCOPIC MOLECULE. YOUR EVERY MOVE HAS SUNK BURNING COUNTRY, ALREADY THE ZIT OF THE WASTELAND, DEEPER THAN THE ACTUAL HELL IT IS BUILT ON. YOU WILL WORK WITH BEHER. YOU WILL KILL THE ABOMINATION YOU HAVE RAISED LIKE A MOTHER. AND IF YOU FAIL, YOU WILL RECEIVE A PLEASANT VISIT WHERE YOU WILL BE KILLED. YES, KILLED. YOU OFFER NOTHING TO UNITY. THE GODDESS WISHES YOU A VERY TERRIBLE DAY.}}

The Alicorn's free will returned to her, and she regained composure.

Annie glowered at Beher and the bomb he had set himself in front of.

"You've made some friends, I see." She flatly muttered.

Footnote: Level Up! (91)

New Perk Added: Burning Ring of Fire - Slightly increased acidic, radioactive, and chemical endurance. It's still recommended you stay out of stomachs, however.

Chapter 1: Welcome To Burning Country

Chapter One: Welcome To Burning Country

"Falling out of Aeroplanes and hiding out in holes

Waiting for the sunset to come, people going home

Jump out from behind them and shoot them in the head

Now everybody's dancing the dance of the dead"

We had learned to tame the Tatzlwurms, but not the Equestrian heat.

At it's worst, it was unquenchably overbearing; the thick cloud cover that blotted out the planet's sun also trapped the heat it radiated, reflecting it back full force to the ground below with enough power to scorch all plant life off the southern half of the continent, as it had for centuries now. When the bombs dropped, a special brand had been thrown without testing in the heat and panic of the moment- the Balefire Egg Dropping bomb, meant to salt the earth with as much explosion as could fit in one package. Only desert and the lucky few houses, buildings, and structures had survived.

In the south, brahmin and livestock were a valuable commodity, kept under secure watch and lock by any who dared to carry them down there. Keepers and farmers who raised them were worshipped like pre-war celebrities for the good they did bringing milk to the masses. Water was worse; what wasn't boiled was irradiated, and in the desert, only imports from up north could keep the inhabitants cool.

In the south, Ponies lying on their stomachs in the middle of the road with tongues hanging out and mutant fish waddling on recently evolved legs were no less common a sight than your average raider invasion. And above all else, whether it was a gunfight or an orgy, you were expected to do it politely and cordially. In the eyes of a resident, we're all in the same boat; if you're suffering, they're suffering. If you must make it worst, at the very least don't kick them in the shins as you do.

The south was Burning Country. And smack dab in the center, just above Tartarus and just below the thickest and most luxurious Pegasus city, was Stuff n Things.

Beher let go of the wagon of crates he had been rolling to slide his keys into the door's lock, turning and jiggling the handle. Then turning again. Then shoving his whole force into it. Eventually, he just broke the pane with his shoulder, climbing through the frame and unlocking it from the other side.

Load the new goods. Restock the lukewarm bottled water from his crates. Mark in shift hours. And of course, his favorite part; Turn on the miniature nuclear reactor to power the AC. For a second, he forgot his job and just stood under the weak wafts of cool air, taking advantage of his solitude.

The open sign was flipped. Stuff n Things, the best stocked convenience store and closest supply of fresh bottled water for miles in any direction, was ready to start the day.

The stallion in the Power Ranger armor procured a minigun from out of nowhere, dropping it on the table dramatically. "How much would this go for?"

Beher stifled a whistle. Damn fine condition, lovingly oiled, nary a bloodstain or unidentifiable green goo splotch in sight. A prod at the barrel turned it like the wheel of a bike, momentum soundlessly rotating it.

"70 Bits." Beher came up with off the top of his head, maintaining the poker face.

"70 bits? This is worth 700 at least. Do you know how much I'm putting myself in danger by giving this up?" The stallion growled.

Time to bullshit. "It's unloaded, and takes a bullet we don't offer as currency. Until you can cough up some of those shots, it's a very fancy Megatron accessory." All of which was true. None of which the average customer he SOLD this to would realize, making the points moot.

The stallion snorted. "Fine. 70 bits. Get out of my face."

Beher didn't even bother to comment on that, instead reveling in the small victory of not moving a muscle as the stallion paid up and barged out the door, nearly bowling over an elderly looking mare on his way out.

As the mare reached the front counter, Beher put on his best grin. "How would you like a Minigun with your water, miss? Going rate is 700 bits."

"I mean it, man. They're made of water. Live up in Zebrica."

Beher deliberately took his time sifting through water bottles. He had to hear this one. "Oh yeah? How'd they survive, you know, everything? As bad as we have it, Zebrica must be hell."

"Same way Humans made it. Froze emselves. Actually, much easier for them, being water and all." The stallion in the cowboy hat nodded surely.

"Oh, of course. And, ah, Humans froze themselves because...?"

"Same way robits made it to the modern day. They were put into storage pre-war by scientists who didn't realize their future was running out. They were pulled out of their dimension just days before the war."

"Naturally. Robits being?"

"Celestia fuck me, try to keep up, man! Robits, replicas of crystal ponies made before the war to try and keep healthy hearts in unhealthy bodies alive."

"Right, I'm sorry, I'm a pest. Here's your non-living water."

"You can't fool me." The customer glowered.

The cherry red changeling across the table lifted a sack onto the counter, stuffed to the brim with firm round objects making imprints against the fabric. "How much for a single changeling egg?"

Beher swallowed. "Miss, isn't your species extinct?"

"50 bits?"

"Where did these come from?"

"30 bits?" The changeling didn’t miss a beat to bargain, shifting restlessly on the other side of the counter.

"Did you make these?"

"10 bits?"

"How... recently?"

"5 bits?"

"Deal.

The changeling beamed. "Alright. Get out a calculator. And I'll buy a water with it, too."

"Grab me a water, and I need a telegraph." The griffon muttered, pulling out a bag of bits to rifle through it.

"You could say please." Beher grumbled, nonetheless doing his duty chucking the bottle across the counter and lifting the machine from under him.

"Alright, start transcribing." The customer cleared her throat. "'Appleloosa North, Kitty Pelt. Dear Kitty Stop, I hope this message finds you with a barrel in your mouth and not another cock you homewrecking-'"

"Okay, wait." Beher shook his head. "You're paying me by the word. You know that, right?"

She jingled the bag in his face in annoyance.

Beher rolled his eyes. "Alright. I'm typing."

"'-homewrecking cunt bag of bitches sucking each other off stop, if I ever see you back within a thousand miles of me and I will definitely see you I'm eating you alive and enjoying every second of it stop enjoy the rest of your day you cuckolding jackass stop.'" The griffon took a breath. "You got all that?"

"Yep. 32 bits, please."

"Really? That doesn't seem like very much. You count that right?"

Beher recounted in his head.

Dear Kitty stop that is pretty hot stop please come see me and we'll see if the three of us can have some fun together stop eight equal sign equal sign equal sign right arrow stop

"32 bits." He confirmed. Sometimes a net loss was worth it.

A blessing of Alicorns entered, imposingly making their way to the counter.

"One water, please." The first demanded.

"One half of a water, please." The second demanded.

"One qua-"

"No you don't, I've been here before." Beher snapped, sliding over two bottles.

The veil was ripped off the object that had been dragged in, revealing an intricately detailed stone mold of Celestia's head.

"This was stolen from the original in Canterlot, by a thief who risked life and limb to carry it to his death ray as a figurehead. A simple job tracking him down unveiled his grandiose plan to destroy the continent, which he believed was a holy mission sent to him by the solar goddess herself. In the nick of time, we fought in his lair, hundreds of miles above the ground in a satellite, and barely managed to shut it down before it obliterated half of the planet, then rode it down to the surface, leaving him stranded in space. I now present to you the very same head that began it all."

"20 bits."

The wannabe Stable Dweller turned up her nose. "Really?"

"Do you know how many people come in with that story? Just tell me what happened, man."

She sighed, shrinking into herself sheepishly. "Fine, I stole it from a park. Just take it."

"Alright." Beher passed over the bits with a nod of approval. "Thank you for telling me the truth."

Beher craned his neck over the counter to smile at the kid trotting up with a wagging tail. "Aren't you cute? Whatcha want, girlie?"

Beaming, the little girl reached into her bags and procured a pistol, training it expertly between his eyes without a quiver. "This is a stick up!"

Beher's smile wavered. "Err… you want… a lolly, or…"

"Whole register!" She chirped.

"Okay…" Beher kept his eyes trained on the amateurishly held gun, reaching for the cash register. Just take out a bit…

"No fast ones, please!"

Beher sighed, removing the entire tray and emptying it into the girl's Nightmare Night basket. With another tail wag, she started to lower her gun, accidentally stumbling and firing a hole into the wall behind Beher before apologizing cheerfully and trotting out.

Beher slowly rose up from behind the counter, gripping the edge and turning to the wall of posters and ads behind him, riddled with bullet hole after bullet holes of varying size and age.

"Uh... sir? I don't mean to bother you on the clock, but... I can't leave. There's a big, furry mass of... something blocking the door. And it seems to be breathing."

Beher clucked his tongue. "Damn it. Cerberus left the gates again. Fuckin dog can never stay in place for more than an hour. Get comfy here. And no, you ain't getting another water for your troubles." He paused. "Or, alternatively, you could take one for the team. Go punch him really hard, see if he wakes up."

The customer gulped. "Is he... carnivorous?"

"Dogs eat people all the time. Don't hold it against him."

Morning happy hour, when all the customers were crawling to the store to get a drink, was dwindling. While a part of him realized how alien it was to say, Beher had to admit the customers tended to be the best part of the job; there was always someone interesting coming from somewhere, be it the exoticness of a northerner still adjusting, or just the natural irregularity someone who lived down in Burning Country had to have.

Beher's 30 minute lunch was just beginning after the day's usual grind behind the counter when the bell over the door rang. He didn't bother looking up from his sandwich, fixated on a particularly dark patch on the back wall and playing his favorite game of 'when and how did that mess get there?'

"I'm about to start my lunch break, man. Make it quick." He called, waving a hoof dismissively behind him.

"When I come to the club, step aside."

Quick as a whip, Beher shot to attention with the biggest grin of the day. "Oh, shit!"

"Part the seas, don't be havin' me in line!" Claws rapped on the table behind him in beat.

"Oh shit!"

"VIP, coz you know I gotta shine!"

"Oh shit!" Beher turned around, beaming at the customer towering a head over him.

"It's your girl, she gon love you long time!" The customer poked a stubby claw at his muzzle, drawing Beher's eyes up to take her in from the long shadow she cast.

The customer in question was a shaggy Diamond Dog, built like a semi, 40% muscles and 60% pudge, pounds rounder than the skinny mutts more commonly seen fusing themselves to metal like idiots. Her thick arms rested on the counter as she leaned over to Beher with a dopey grin, fangs jutting out of her bottom lip uncontrollably from a slightly twisted lower jaw, one of a few strikingly noticeable features across her form, a close second to the faded band shirt caked in mud she wore modestly.

"APRIL!" Beher eagerly pulled himself over the table, not bothering with the intended exit. "If anyone asks, I'm restocking, aye?" He pointed his hoof accusingly as high as he could reach, coming up just below her chin.

"Zipped shut!" April concealed her snaggletooth smile with a lip sealing motion.

A sharp contrast to the dogs up north, April considered it her duty to stand as a role model for a species teetering on the edge of extinction, and highly known for their deadly prowess. Everything from her weight to her dialect seemed specially manufactured to separate herself from the lean and raspy-tongued hunters that constituted the majority of Diamond Dogs, and while Beher couldn't be sure she had overeaten herself a potbelly on purpose, he knew for a fact she was the only one in Burning Country who talked with the homely twang she did. April was a lover by heart, and wore it on her sleeve. Even to the local raiders, she was mutually off-limits (although the intimidating fangs her unnaturally twisted jaw showed off may have also been part of that), a fact that greatly benefited Beher on the store hours she stood by. April was well known nearly the country over, mostly for what her moneymaking entailed.

"Youuuu... Left early yesterday!" Beher playfully complained, turning to the shelves to shuffle items meaninglessly as she tagged along eagerly. They had known each other for well over a decade, although to what degree she was 'his girl' was often greatly exaggerated by her for the sake of a joke. Physically affectionate as she was, Beher much more highly regarded their friendship.

"IIIIIIIIII... got called away for work. Right in the store, impressively." She echoed, poking him on the top of the head.

"Ah, no, not an excuse, not an excuse! What do you think I would do, if I suddenly got called out of a loving moment of friendship with you to work my job?" Beher jabbed a spatula threateningly in her direction.

April leaned on a knee to bring her head to Beher level. "I wouldn't know, now would I? I've never even seen your house."

"April, for all intents and purposes, this is my house." Beher set the spatula back. "Going anywhere else is a dinner, breakfast, or sleep break, and it's back on the 24 hour cycle."

"Speak for yourself, my job is a sleep break.”

"There, it makes you look more endearing. I try it, and some raider with shutter shades in a Biker Gang Union empties the register."

"Clearly, you need to wear more clothes then." April tugged at the hem of her dirty shirt, the logo on the front nearly worn to non existence by centuries of tear.

"Ha ha, shut it up." Beher over emphasized his laughs. "Speaking of emptying the register, I got… shit, I nearly forgot I was mugged by a little girl earlier. I might need to sacrifice some pay into the money machine so it looks like I made something." Without turning around, he interrupted her as she began to reach into her shirt and withdraw a wad of money from somewhere in her chest. "Ah, take your hand off it, I'll be fine."

April grimaced. "That could be your dinner on the line..."

"I'm not a picky eater, April, if I need food there's plenty of Radigators running around. Hell, I work a convenience store! How am I gonna run out of food?" Beher pulled off a can of soup, quickly alleviating its lack of a price tag.

"Thinking of shoplifting, are we?" April teased.

"I protect it, Celestia damn it, I decide what happens to it at the end of the day!" Beher stamped his hoof.

"Mmhmm." April hummed, unimpressed. "And when the boss drags himself and his ass down here to tell you what he thinks?"

"Burn that bridge when we get to it, April, the same way I make all my decisions!"

"It shows! It's anchored you here, hasn't it?"

Beher laughed hautily as he rifled through energy bars. "April, dear, not for much longer. I'll get out eventually, mark my damn words."

"Marked for the last decade, hun." April solemnly shook her head. "Now, aside from money, what's the score?"

"80 bags of noodles, 769 changeling eggs, a working minigun, and this."Approaching a collapsible table covered in cloth in a corner of the store, Beher whipped the cover off to show the bust of the Princess's head underneath.

April scratched her chin. "Err... what is it?"

"It's... well, it's a head!"

"I gathered that. Who's it of?"

Beher glanced at her, flabbergasted. "The Princess of Old Equestria?"

"Really? Huh. Hard to tell with the stone."

"Haircut didn't give it away?"

"Lot of alicorns have those these days."

Beher scoffed. "Only because Celestia trendset. Trendsat."

April shrugged, picking it up and tossing it between paws, looking it over. "What's it do?"

Beher grimaced. "It's... well, it's a head! Why does it need value? Is it not enough to sit on my counter and strike the fear of Celestia into the hearts of customers?"

"Didn't work." April pointed out.

"That's coz you've got dog gods and stuff. You don't count." Beher griped.

The bell rang as they continued to talk, and a customer headed for the front counter.

"I'm sorry, Beher, I just don't see much a purpose in having some old dead gal taking up space on your table."

"Celestia, we gotta have a reason for everything we do, don't we? Well, look, as long as it ain't killing me, it's worth keeping."

The customer suddenly spoke up, clearing his throat.

"Scuse me, have any of you seen a Celestia Head?"

Beher looked down at the bust stiffly, a wave of nausea slowly passing over him he quickly swallowed down and leaned over to peer around the counters.

"Ah... pardon?"

A unicorn stallion leaned on the desk, looking over at them with mild bemusement. Shaggy pelted in cerulean blue with wavy lavender hair, teetering on pink, he stuck out like a sore thumb on the deserts and sands of Burning Country, where most residents came in browns and yellows. A northern foreigner wasn't unheard of down here, but certainly a northern foreigner stopping was. A similar minty green dusty suit was draped over his shoulders, white cuffs just above his fetlocks indicating some sort of money earned, be it old or new. Despite his looks, he was already fitting in with the residents; bloodcurdling statements spoken casually as the weather and chance of dust bowls were practically a contest in Burning Country.

"Celestia head, head of Celestia. Oh, I apologize, I should be more clear; it's a statue." He smiled, placing a hoof to his chest, and Beher's eyes instinctively flickered to his flank, which happened to be a silver flask. "Shackleset. Pleasure to meet you." He introduced himself coolly.

Beher quickly retook his place at the counter, followed shortly by April once she had thrown the cover back over the concealed shelf. "Erm.... Pleasure. I'm Beher, I'm the store clerk, this is April. She's a customer."

Shackleset raised an eyebrow. "I'm... not sure why you introduced me to her, but pleasure." He nodded curiously at her. "I don't often see Diamond Dogs. Much less often clothed ones."

Beher coughed to catch his attention. "What were you saying about a head?"

Shackle cleared his throat, adopting a professional demeanor and standing up straight. "Mister Beher, I work a place a little near this town the locals like to call the Carnival. You ever hear of it?"

Beher turned to the wall of posters and ads behind him, still riddled with bullet holes. "Anarchy Abduction's Carnival of Kid Punching and Knife Alligators, right?"

Nestled between pre-war cigarette ads and gun for hire sign up sheets, a pink sheet of torn paper with black font printed top and bottom. The Carnival advertised operated just outside Burning Country (loosely, seeing as the country's 'borders' were defined by old men in wicker chairs guesstimating), near where the water met the turf. It had once been an old Ministry of Morale amusement park acquired (read: emptied of murderous hobos) ages ago by the titular stage name for reasons unknown, and uncared about by most. For as long as anyone had remembered, it had been occupied, but kept tight; nobody went in, nobody went out. Then, in recent years, like an activated jack of the box, it began swarming. Advertisements came out after the fact; how it opened business as a pre-war-esque carnival run mostly by hamster wheel tech and instantly had a following was unknown to anybody. Beher certainly had never met anyone who had gone, yet, undeniably, it was now one of the few 'landmarks' Burning County had, and if anything was gonna put the deep south on the map, it was the Carnival, and the slew of lesser-known shoestring budget tourist traps it had inspired in the surrounding dunes.

"The very same." Shackle proudly admitted, and a gust of cold air rustled April and Beher's pelts, most likely from the malfunctioning AC.

Beher tapped his hoof on the counter, a tic he had developed over long years with frustrating customers. "Right, Swear to Cele- I mean, Tartarus, I hear they really revitalized and revolutionized the art of punching kids."

"I appreciate the compliment!" Shackle smiled. "And see, our cherry on the top is the statue of Celestia, taken straight from Canterlot and given a good washing. It's the crowning jewel, I really can't emphasize it enough. We turned it into a fountain and made it the figurehead of our brand."

Beher's lips pursed. "Where does the water come out?"

"It's got a massive cock." Shackle spread his forelegs to demonstrate. "Pretty accurate to the real thing, I've been told."

"I... wouldn't know."

"I trust the sculptor, whatever planet he may be on after the bombs blew him sky high." Shackle snorted. "Rather recently, it happened to be snatched out from under us; you know the type, hero that crawls out of some bumfuck town and decides vandalism puts em on par with Stable Dweller. And, well, we have reason to believe they came this way. The vandal, not Stable Dweller. She's not the best at losing a trail. I know, hell of an odd place to check first, but may as well, while I'm here, right? Any tips you've heard around lately?"

"Oh, ah, p-plenty." Beher scrubbed the desk with his bare hoof anxiously, pretending to recall. "Cult that worships Daring Do started a town over, they come to buy guns and preach occasionally, Giant Scorpions were bred as pets by a resident and got loose a few weeks ago so they're still multiplying somewhere, Pegasi started dropping their garbage in a pit nearby, there's a guy dressed up as a superhero running around... No head I can think of, but it wouldn't surprise me none. You want your water, sir?" He extended the obligatory bottled water.

"Don't we all?" He accepted. "And rest assured, I'll be out of your hair eventually, I doubt it would stop in a hick town like this. There's gotta be a better place to sell it, right?"

"I mean... we do have the best prices of all our competitors, but... yeah." Beher sheepishly mumbled.

"Shackleset, sir." April interrupted. "Not to pry into affairs that aren't my own, but any idea what's gonna happen to the thief when you catch them?"

"Well, the Carnival's set a bit of a standard on that front, hasn't it?" Shackleset chuckled nonchalantly, and the clerk's gaze drifted to the text at the bottom of the poster behind him again.

Live assassinations! Children admission free

Shackle thumped the counter again, startling Beher back to attention. "I'm sure there's not much reason for me to stay any longer." Shackle sighed. "I've rented a motel nearby, but I keep hearing this scuttling noise in the walls when I'm sleeping, and it is really driving me up em. One more night, and I assure you I'll see myself out."

Beher put on the customer service smile he knew too well. "Of course. Here's your change sir. Welcome to Burning Country."

Shackle accepted it and headed for the door, and just when Beher was ready to release his breath, leaned back in through the frame. "Take care. Don't do anything stupid out here, alright?" And rang the bell on his way out.

April and Beher watched him walk off the property and out into the sand, and once they were sure he was out of earshot through the paper thin walls, April crossed her arms smugly.

Beher bit his lip. "Okay, I fucked up a bit. It's alright, alright? No harm, no foul."

April humphed. "Mm-hmm. And, what are you going to do with this thing?"

"It's got... value, of some kind." He protested, sliding over the counter again as April exited through the flipping panel, both headed for the concealed bust. "I can hang it over the door. Make an actual statue out of it. Build the base out of wood, Finally do something with all those toppled houses."

They approached it thoughtfully, taking their places adjacent to it. "Yeah? Yeah, that's very nice. And when someone sees the statue with a pilfered head, days after a prolific crime boss lost one?" April reminded as she removed the cover.

"I get it, I can do something else, something private." Beher groaned. "Is it hollow? Can I spitoonify it?"

"No, Beher, it's a carving from solid stone. Look, there's only one hole in the bottom." She lifted the head and showed him the underneath, where a small, beetle sized hole had been drilled, running deep and ought of sight. "Come on hun, you know I'm right."

"Alright, what do you propose then, April?" Beher punched her lightly in her potbelly.

April rubbed the sore spot with a grimace. "Honestly? Give it back. 'Hey, this was sold to us, sorry for forgetting, enjoy your head.'"

"Who forgets being sold a head? He'll be on to us like that. You see this guy? He literally works at a kid punching place."

"Then find some other way to give it back, because the longer it stays with us, the harder the fall at the end." April snapped.

The clerk turned away, thinking carefully. "I can respect the idea of just giving it back, getting this head off our shoulders, but if we're really gonna do it, we do it sneakily. Now, think, April, how can we just slide it into his bags without him realizing?"

They thought it over, both adopting poses to cradle their heads, and April opened her mouth first, tasting and testing the words as they came out slowly.

"We... get... him... wasted!"

Beher raised an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"His mark, it's a flask." April pointed in the air at nothing excitedly. "Not a set of shackles, not a key, not a child being punched, a flask. Not even a wine bottle! It's not a metaphor, he just likes drinking. I take him to the bar. It's my job to get people places, and bars are where I do half of my business! Offer him the Casillero de Pesadilla. Keep him talking, one more shot, one more shot."

"You're not exactly a master manipulator, April." Beher reminded.

"I don't need to be. He needs to be just. Drunk. Enough. Set our bags on the floor beneath the bar, and subtly move it from mine to his. Who doesn't enchant their bags with pocket dimensions nowadays? Bing bang boom, he doesn't even notice, and we send him off on his way with a nice present in the morning."

"What, lean down beneath the table without him noticing?" Beher scoffed.

April lifted her leg to flex her hindpaw in his face demonstratingly. "I don't have opposable thumbs, Beher. If I can manage to grab with my front paws, I can grab with my back paws."

Beher's nose wrinkled and he leaned away. "Alright, fine. It seems like the easiest idea, but again. Kid. Punching. Don't get soft for this guy. And if you get caught, you dig your own grave, not mine."

April extended her forepaw with a confident smile. "Deal."

They took each other's limbs, before Beher suddenly pulled away, grimacing like he was burnt. "Agh, no, I couldn't live with that guilt. Blame me."

April rolled her eyes with a smile. "Knew it. I'll paint us both in a good light, alright?"

Beher braced himself, shoulders rising and falling in a deep, closed mouth sigh. "Don't get killed, April."

"That's almost a 'good luck'. I'll be alright." April clapped her paws together. "Now, you got seven hours left on your shift before dinner and sleep break. Gimme a water."

Late night was a blessing in Burning Country. Temperatures dropped (unless you placed your cheek to the ground), animals slept (except for the dreaded Nocturnal Liver-Turn-Inside-Outers), and distant gunfire got less frequent (unless the gun was currently aimed at you). April in particular did a lot of work at night, appreciating the night life for how little life it had. It wasn't much trouble for her to find her way to the blown out, flea ridden NoLoit motel, a few shakes of a lamb's tail north of the Stuff n Things. The motel happily advertised its free space, which was mostly in part because all the rooms had once been storage units.

Summoning her courage, everpresently aware of the head in her bag, April slicked down the tuft of fur on her head that never stayed put and knocked on the door of one of the rooms with a resounding echoing clang.

Shackle greeted without his suit, eyes widening in surprise when he came face to face with April's belly.

"Oh! Hello! Did you, er, get dressed up?" He squinted to look up at her.

"I put on pants, yeah." April admitted. "Listen, I know you're probably keen to get out of here, but it's not often we get a new face around here. Would you mind if I..." She gestured to the empty desert. "Show you around a bit before you leave?"

Shackle unsurely looked at the vast nothingness. "I'm not sure I haven't seen it all! I stayed away from the screaming glowing hole in the ground, but other than that, the town all seemed quite quaint, if sparsely spread! Really, my only goal now is to-"

"Did you see the bar?" April interrupted.

His eyes subtly shone. "I... don't believe I did."

April leaned towards him slowly. "Well... I could..." She twiddled her paws casually. "show it to you. You know, if you're interested. Just a drink among civilized neighbors?"

Shackle blinked and began to shut the garage door politely. "Th-that's quite alright, dear, I should see myself off in the morning. Would hate to wake up somewhere unpleasant should I not be able to hold my bee-"

"We've got our own special brand of wine." April grabbed the underside of the door, feigning a lean against the side.

Shackle ceased all resistance. "Oh?"

"Casillero de Pesadilla." April dramatically pronounced. "Forged pre-war by a legendary drunkard. She promptly forgot the recipe, and so the secret never left Burning Country. But I have a hunch you're a bit of a connoisseur." She looked askance. "For me? Just a bit?"

Shackle's mouth hung open as he thought of it, slowly closing as she watched the battle in his eyes. Finally, he relented with a grin.

"...Tartarus, I'm down. You've got the head, I'll tail behind."

Laughs echoed through the bar as the two inhabitants seated closest together at the table mingled. Their interaction was an outlier; what few customers were seated were isolated to themselves, taking their sips and mulling over their own thoughts in privacy. The inside had clearly been repainted several times over, to worsening condition each time, and the result was a hardly more polished up job than the bombs had given it. Cracks still ran all along the walls, dust still hung in the air, but the residents barely seemed to mind, let alone the Diamond Dog and unicorn stallion conversing cheerily over several already empty glasses.

"I don't understand! Why don't they just chain the dog?" Shackleset giggled, leaning onto the bar for support.

April swallowed down her own teetering giddiness, cheeks red as she waved a paw for emphasis. "No, no, I don't think I can understate how big this dog is. I mean, I'm a big dog, but Cerberus is on a whole other level."

"And it just keeps leaving its post? Guarding a jail full of demons?" Shackle mouthed the last word in amazement.

"Hey, cut it some slack. Cerberus kept doing his job through the Apocalypse. The only other place that outlasted the bombs was my friend's convenience store."

"I was just in there. It's that old?"

"The owner is actually a ghoul." April recalled with a grin. "Half the man he once was, but I'll be damned if he hasn't kept Stuff n Things running for 300 years in a month. Alright, so what about you? What's your life like, on the other end of Burning Country? I'm guessing a big fancy carnival has it's own share of horror stories, just as sure as it's protected from most of ours. More of a sapient element to your hell, huh?"

Shackle sighed, shaking the drink in his fresh glass gently. "Actually, it ain't that bad. People pay well to see their sports. It's a good living, these days. And just like you said, it's guaranteed protection from all the beasties outside."

"Do you like what you do?"

"It could always be better."

"At least you get a carnival out of it, right?"

His face screwed up in confusion, before he coughed out a laugh again. "I get- ah. Ah ha, I see what happened. I come out of the desert looking for something stolen... You think I'm the owner?" He shook his head vigorously. "Of course not, the damn thing is named after the owner. Anarchy Abduction, bless her soul. We call her Annie. It's better on morale."

The head. Memory and blood rushed to April's head, and she flinched nervously. How long had they been here? This was definitely drunk enough. "Annie. Wait, then you're not-"

If he noticed her awkward grabbing of the table while a hindpaw fumbled with her saddlebag, he didn't show it. "Of course I'm not not. I'm in debt to her. Does my mark look like a set of shackles?" He glanced back at his flank as April bit her lip, lifting the head's horn between two toes and clenching the table a little tighter as it slipped precariously. "Compared to Annie, I'm a bug. All I do is bounce. I was hired from outside years ago, but… I cant quit. Paid too well, I suppose. And right now it's my job to get that head back. It's not just a fancy piece, you know."

April desperately tried to keep her head clear as she reached her leg across to him. His bag was just next to hers; drop it in, conceal the thud, job done. "Oh?"

"It's the... Celestia, I'm getting red, I should stop drinking..."

April stared at him intently, feeling her paw brush knapsack. "Keep going, it's alright."

Shackle took a final sip, emptying the glass.

"It's actually a water talisman."

April loudly coughed, leaning forward as she dropped the parcel in, and immediately withdrew her leg back to her side, leaning casually on the bar. Head in, job done. "O-oh?"

He nodded. "Embedded in the head. Runs water down the hole at the base, and out the fountain. An infinite supply of water, run from one source to the entire carnival. Celestia, if... If I can't get that back, I'm probably gonna get demoted." He grimaced. "Rapidly. To an unmarked grave."

April calmed herself. The hard part was over. Cruise until he left. "Work's that bad?" She murmured, succumbing again to tipsiness.

"Oh no, the job's great. I've learned so much from the ol gal. It's just better when I..." He paused, taking a sip of his drink. As he did, a change washed over him. His features tensed, his hoof shook violently for a second before stabilizing, and even the air around him seemed to fall still. Then, just quickly enough to make April wonder if she had imagined it, he relaxed. "...Better when I don't fuck up."

April tried to shake the change, but it settled at the back of her brain, tugging her as she tried to resume conversation. "If... it makes you feel any better, I think you'll get it back. Soon. You just need that patience, hun. Another glass?"

He rested his foreleg on the table, waving her off. "I shouldn't, I'm talking too much." He replied dully.

April smiled. "Nonsense. I'll bet it feels nice to talk right now."

Establishments in Burning Country were spread wide, due to the way they had been constructed when there was significantly less sand; a long sprawling highway, now buried almost completely in sand. Wherever the stronger buildings hadn't fallen, that's where people settled and did business. As a result, the path between the motel and the bar was well trodden with paw and hoof prints, but otherwise completely empty, save the natural dunes and pits the two drinking buddies trudged past, leaning on each other and making small talk.

"What do you do?" Shackle pursued.

"Me? Don't laugh."

"No laughs here."

April rolled her eyes. It was far from being an awkward question anymore, but that was mostly because people around here tended to already know. "Escort. Don't worry, don't worry. I'm not on the job."

"You? That's..." He raised an eyebrow, but quickly caught himself. "I can see it."

April smiled. "You're too kind. It's probably one of the more profitable jobs around here. You met my buddy earlier; he runs the only convenience store for miles, but it barely turns up anything. People are always finding ways to rob him, incredibly easily at that- More often than not, he just lets them. Easier than dying for a store he doesn't give a monday cow's tuesday shit about."

"No kidding." Shackleset picked up his stride to overtake her, keeping a pace ahead of her.

"Does it look like this place has law enforcement, hun? Well, the superhero guy... But I'm just counting down the days until someone shanks him."

Shackleset seemed to mull it over. "I'm surprised you don't have it worse."

"I'm saved by Burning Country's one virtue. A polite customer doesn't shoot the girl whose time they just bought."

"You're liked well enough? Not just another face in the crowd, like... You know, a prostitute?" He slowly asked

April brushed that off. "As much of a face in the crowd around here as anyone else. Not much point learning each other when we're all gonna drop dead to something sooner rather than later."

"We've all got problems in Equestria, don't we?" He grumbled.

April waved her arms theatrically. "Glory, glory. At least I'm not in the crosshairs of a crime boss. I've done well at minding my own business."

"That's far from the worst jam I've been in. At least I can take my few solaces."

"Yeah? Alright, I'm listening. Count out your blessings, hun."

"Don't make a man vulnerable." His reprimand almost seemed cross, until he playfully followed it up with a cough. "Only... if you go first."

April thought. It didn't take her long to stumble across a thread, and when she picked it up, the rest of the worlds trailed along with it. "I guess... despite everything, I'm glad we have some decency in the folk down here. We're all dying slowly, but we can pretend we're not if it's around each other. It gives Burning Country a spirit other communities in the wasteland just can't have. I'm glad for my friends. Isn't everyone? I'm glad I can always come and make my buddy's day better in the middle of his Celestia-damned job. I'm glad I'm respected, that if someone's gonna insult me, it's because I chase thrown tennis balls, and not because Dogs of my ilk were forced to build The Hoof pre-war, or because they got really into cybernetics post-war, or my weight or what I do for a living. I think this is the best place in Equestria to live. No matter what crawls out of the Hellmouth next, no matter what the Pegasus garbage collectors above us decide to drop on our heads, no matter how many weapons are pointed at me, I love Burning Country. I think, when we're forced to choose, we all do. We can't have pride in much these days. We should at least have pride in our hometown."

Shackleset was silent for a long moment before replying quietly. "That's a lot. I've never thought about... any community like that."

April shook her head with a brrrrr. "Yeah, yeah, I opened up. Now sacrifice your masculinity. Tell me what's eating you, hun."

"Is it that obvious?" He fell silent, and his stance softened from the sharpened shoulders, stiff steps he had been adopting without her notice.

"April, why did you steal our water chip?"

April was tipsy, she'd be the first to admit it. Pulling off her switcharoo had rejuvenated her energy like nothing else, and she had heartily kept the drinks coming a tad longer than she probably should have. One sentence felt like it gut-checked the alcohol entirely out of her system, and April felt washed in chills.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" April barked out reflexively, and all too fast. "I mean, I don't... I didn't..."

"April, I noticed what you pulled in the bar. I asked you where it was to your face. You'll open up your heart and soul after a drink, but you lied to my face when sober. What was that again about politeness down here?" He sourly asked, remained facing away from her.

April was a lot of things, but a liar was not one of them. Within two sentences she had broken completely, and found it within her to fess up completely. Clearly wasn't much point in getting him angrier anyway. She rose her muzzle to the sky and took a breath, scrunching her eyes shut.

"Beher and I found it. I tried to slip it, because I wanted it off my back. I'm sorry, hun."

"We talked under false pretenses."

"We did."

"I... don't really do that. Talk to other people when I'm on a job. Politeness, friendship, yeah, great, but never get to actually know someone. Because..." He laughed. "What do you know it, I usually end up killing them."

The implication didn't quite sink in. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me too."

His bags dropped to the ground, and he withdrew something that gleamed in the moonlight. It didn't take the unarmed Dog long to realize what it was.

"Shackle!" April exhaled in shock.

Shackle turned around, rubbing his nose with a free hoof. "I bet against the odds. It would've been easy to kill the thief and not think about it, but you had to go and get friendly. That hurt, April."

"That's what hurts here?" April exasperatedly panted as she backed away, looking around at the surrounding sand dunes in search of anyplace to run she might escape to. She doubted the unicorn could catch up to her running at full speed, but if his levitation was any good he wouldn't have to. One good shot would lodge the knife in the back of her skull.

"You buddied up to the lion." He grumbled. "You can fantasize about fixing the villain and making a new friend and everything working out in the end, but I'm not another local. I was sent here to kill, and no matter who you pinned me for in the bar, I don't feel bad enough to hinder my job." He smiled. "Sadly, there's your downside to Burning Country's politeness. It's misleading."

April took a step back. Shackle took a step forward.

"No, I didn't steal the chip. I didn't even know what was in it." April pleaded. "Shackle, we can leave. You don't have to see me again. Just head back, and we'll be alright. Shackle- Shackle!"

Groaning loudly and shutting his eyes, Shackleset swung the knife forward with visible pain. The self-inflicted blindness made it ever so slightly easier to step out of the warpath, and April instinctively reacted by butting her shoulder forward, ramming her hip into his muzzle and folding it against him as he collapsed backward and lost his grip on the knife.

Shackle stumbled to his hooves, slipping on the sand, and looking up at her from his point of vulnerability. Here, standing above him, she could see now the weapon he had attempted to pull on her, some sort of blade now dug into the sand with the hilt still sticking out. His eyes flickered to it, and biting his lip he made a swipe. She reached it before him, kicking out to embed the handle in the sand and conceal it entirely.

"Why did you do that, April?" He growled, landing chin first on the sand again. "Do you have any idea how rare it is for me to come across someone who won't backstab me? Here you come along, and I finally think I can just have a conversation, and you thought I wouldn't notice you fumbling under the table?"

April held her head in her paws, unsure of what action to take as he regained his footing. "I- I thought-"

"I withheld my judgement, but as soon as I lifted my bag, I knew it." He reached for the overturned sack, shaking the limp end to roll out the final parcel on top of his other belongings. His horn kicked back to life, and he swung the head clumsily in a shallow arc at April, the sharp stone cleaving a cut through the air as April stepped back.

"I don't care what you think of me, or what I do, April." Shackleset muttered. "But I'm sick of people sneaking under me. You said it yourself; acting like someone's friend doesn't make the people here any damn different than the rest of Equestria." Another swing forward.

"Shackle, you're drunk!" April wasn't faring much better, stumbling on her feet. Given she was dealing with an assassin, that and her upper hand in strongarming were probably keeping her alive. Shackle's swings were made wide and wild, and each one carried him forward despite being carried telekinetically as the stress on his addled mind pushed him to and fro.

"Clearly not enough."

April caught his next blow, effortlessly swinging the head and knocking him back into the sand again. Shackleset spat out sand and glared up at her.

Whatever he might have growled out next was lost to April as Shackle wrapped himself around her leg, tripping her up flat on her face. Face buried in sand, she felt her leg pulled to a painful angle until she punched behind her and stood up. She hadn't been in a fight in her life- not a fistfight, at least. Unconsciously, her hands went to her head again, and she whimpered pathetically.

The blow didn't come. But light did.

April opened her eyes and looked to Shackleset. It was almost holy; his head was craned to the sky, mouth agape, moonlight falling on him in a concentrated spotlight, like the tractor beam of some UFO. April looked up to the familiar cloud cover, to the hole that had been opened. From the sand, she couldn't see what lay beyond it, but clearly Shackleset could.

"Th... The sk..." Lost in wonder, he barely noticed as a shadow formed above him, barely a pinprick first, then growing larger and larger. Only when it eclipsed his view of the night sky did he blink and close his mouth.

He turned to April.

"I just did my job." He pleaded.

A metal bin collided with his head from 60,000 feet up. Skull and brain matter showered from the impact point, and his body below the neck crumpled onto its knees, spilling the contents of the bin into the pit April was lying in.

The offending weapon rolled to her feet, and she read the logo on the side.

Pegasus Enclave Garbage Services

Before his shift had even began, the bust of Celestia's head found itself on Beher's counter. It was looking to be another beautiful day in Burning Country.

He rubbed his temples anxiously. "April, my closest friend. One of the only people I can hold amiable relations with in this town. Heart of Burning Country." He gestured exasperatedly to the counter. "Why the hell is this still here?"

Without breaking gaze, April slammed her paw onto the table next to the head, hard enough to break a crack in the wood. Where she removed her paw lay a tiny blue chip, barely the size of a beetle, yet still unharmed without a scratch on it.

Beher's eyes shone. "No fucking way."

"This changes everything, Beher. People have died for these things."

"People have killed for these. How the hell...?"

"It was in the head. They use it for the fountain, remember?"

"I thought they just..."

"It generates through the rest. Enough water to fill the pipes of an entire Carnival." April intercepted his questions perfectly with the casualty of someone who had known Beher for a long time.

Beher finally calmed himself, taking deep breaths. "But the head still hasn't been returned. If we just started using the chip... It would put us back on the map. That kind of attention, someone's gonna realize something's up."

April lifted her paws defensively. "I know, I know, hun, but we can't just pass this opportunity up. I've been thinking up a plan all night."

"All ni-" Recollection dawned on Beher. "Hold on, how did last night go? Did the guy leave without this? April, why didn't you just remove the chip and then let him leave with the shell?"

April looked askance, and her hand fell to her stomach feebly, as if a sickness was rising.

"April?" Beher tilted his head suspiciously. "Where's Shackleset?"

April licked her lips guiltily. "I... ate him."

Beher blinked. "Come again?"

"The Pegasus city overhead, we got into a fight, and then they started dumping their stuff... Celestia, Beher, I was standing in the middle of the road in front of a dead body! What happened to not being a picky eater?" She groaned.

"Deaths like that happen all the time!"

April put a hand to her breast. "Not from me! Not from the resident fluffy puppy who likes hugs! Murders generally sully that kind of reputation!" She laced her arms around herself, heaving shallowly.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, we didn't murder anyone." Beher slid across the table, patting her back comfortingly. "You're alright, we're all alright." Once April's breath had calmed, he pushed hair out of his eyes unsurely. "I- I know I'm probably focusing on the wrong thing here, but are you feeling okay? I didn't think you could chew through bone."

April released herself from her grasp, still glancing around like a pre-war police officer was going to burst in on her any moment. "I think I was in too much shock to care. The horn kinda hurt, though. "

Beher let go of her, considering her sufficiently comforted. "Well, they're down an assassin. I don't know how far he was planning on searching, but they were tracking that girl. Which means if he vanishes going after her..."

April nodded slowly. "They'll have a good idea of where she's gone. Maybe they'll assume it's her failure."

"Look, assuming they're not batshit loopy, which, you gotta be a little smart to run an entire damn carnival, means more guys." Beher slowly considered. "This is one of the single most valuable pieces of tech the Wasteland over. No wonder it's so goddamn popular; it's the cleanest source of water for countries in any direction."

"So what the hell do we do?"

"Isn't it obvious? We give the head back. Take it over to the Carnival, discretely drop it off. Suddenly, 'oh shit, it was never lost at all!' Their assassin is presumed dead, their precious is returned, and we've got the chip."

April shook her head. "No, no, they'll assume the chip was stolen, and the hunt is back on."

"But the time they've lost once they realize their man is a no-show! A thousand things out here could've killed him. Are they gonna risk sending another guy out, when that chip could be miles away in any direction? Then we use it. Lay low for a bit, keep it safe, keep it secret. Slooowly but surely, our water supply is going up. People aren't as thirsty anymore. We've singlehandedly saved Burning Country, and we're under the radar. Hell, without their chip, it might not even matter if the Carnival suspects us. They'll have enough on their hooves already when the tanks run out."

They mulled that over. April shot him a look of pride, sniffling.

"Beher? You're a genius."

Beher grinned, lifting a hoof. "Up top?"

For April, it was more of a down low, but she slapped her paw on his anyway.

"Hug?"

They embraced cheesily.

"Kissy-kiss?"

"Don't call it that."

"Point taken."

April leaned down to smooch the end of his nose anyway.

Beher grinned bashfully, before his face suddenly fell. "Celestia. That's not it, is it? There's one more ordeal."

"And that would be?"

Beher gulped.

"I've...I've gotta ask my boss for time off."

"Sir?"

"Sit down, sit down. If it isn't Beher. My favorite employee."

The Boss's grin could melt steel beams. So could the rest of him.

Beher sat down on the sand, his hazmat suit crumpling under his tush uncomfortably. In front of him was the ruins of what had once been a house; hundreds of pounds of wooden beams, bricks, and stone foundation crumpled into a heap. And at the front, leaning against a bent mailbox, was The Boss. His entire upper half was glowing pea soup green, flickering like the lights that lit up the store he owned. Beher couldn't be sure what color his lower half was; as far as he knew, it was still trapped in the 200 year old collapsed house.

Despite dying in his home centuries ago and being promptly bisected, he had held up surprisingly well for himself. In a neat line on the sand in front of him was a row of World's Best Boss mugs and blurry photographs of him at point blank range. Beher had given him all of them.

"And no formalities." The Boss waved his hoof. "Mister is just fine with me."

"Of course, Mister Sir." Beher echoed.

"Now, my favorite employee."

Only employee, Beher knew better than to say out loud.

"How may I help you today? Profits alright?"

Beher thought of his armed robbery. "Just peachy."

"That's what I like to hear, dear boy." The Boss thumped the ground with a foreleg happily. "Then what else can I offer? Unsatisfied with your job?"

Beher tried to scratch an itch, growing irritated when he remembered the full bodied hazmat suit. "I... Everything's alright, Mister Sir. But I think I need some vacation time."

The Boss laughed, wiggling on the ground like a dying slug. "Another long day?"

"Something like that."

"Beher, do you know how long this company has run?"

"300 years in a month." Beher echoed from heart, having been told it for the past year.

"Day in, day out, 7 days a week, 22 hours a day, since I was still a mortal man. Do you know how we got there, dear boy?"

"I believe you're about to tell me."

"Hard work, dedication, a little derring do!" The Boss stretched himself to reach to the stars in a sweeping gesture. "The marks of a good man, dear boy. Do you think I built my empire by sitting on my ass all those years?"

"Yes, Mister Sir."

"Damn skippy I did! I haven't worked a day in my life, because I wanted my employees to learn for themselves. And you've done just wonderfully. Why, I've never met a better pony in my life- and don't tell my wife I said that!" He chortled.

Beher elected not to tell him his wife was dead. "Of course, sir."

"And besides, what about the water? Are we going to leave them without it, and me without that profit?"

"Of course not sir." He braced himself. "But… I have taken initiative- uh, and duty to the company- and trained a brief replacement during my leave."

The Boss quirked an eyebrow. "Oh? They must be very skilled. Who might they be?"

Beher coughed. "He never told me his name, as a matter of fact. But he can count to ninety, place things in places, and highball haggle. Assuming he shuts up about Kelpies, crystal pony robots, and humans every once in a while, I think he'll be perfect."

Footnote: Level Up! (89)

New Perk Added: Mountain Will Not Bow - New dialogue options added in bargain to resolve conflict. Losing your cool costs the boss money. Become the rock.