Motley believed that she had dealt personally with her former companions and her lover. And she hates herself very much for it. I understand her perfectly.

Violet survived, not without faith in the Enclave and its ideals, but she had to die: she would not stop in her plans to kill Motley.

Now it turns out that another member of the brown-haired pegasus' squad, Blaze, is alive.

Will Blaze behave the way Violet does when he finds out his former commander is alive and unharmed? Motley told me once that Blaze wasn't so ideologically driven. He also came to the Enclave for his own material reasons, but he doesn't want to conflict with them. I really hope that Motley and I can resolve this issue without killing.

***

"How is this possible...?" Motley whispers finally, watching Blaze easily defeat his opponent.

Her question clearly does not refer to the victory he has won. The pegasus has not uttered a single word since the fight began, watching him with a shocked expression as if he were a dead pony she had once personally killed. I would have been dumbfounded just as much if I had seen the reanimated Brisa.

Blaze's martial arts skills are as good as Motley's, but his movements are not as fluid and graceful. His opponent tries to attack Black Feather's bandaged back. That's what the latter is hoping for and has been prepared in advance. I think he won most of his fights this way—the opponent attacks the bandaged back, assuming that he had been seriously injured in that place at some point. It's an interesting way to anticipate your opponent's intentions—it's how he wraps vulnerability into superiority. And yet: if his opponent reached the sore spot—isn't that a guarantee of a loss?

The referee declares Black Feather's victory, and he announces the next bout. It is worth mentioning that Blaze's match with his opponent drew a standing ovation from the audience, who watched the fight with inexpressible admiration. Almost all eyes were fixed on the fight, where one of the most experienced fighters among the slaves was fighting. What was going on in the neighboring arena, where the masters were fighting, was of little interest. Even if I didn't know about his past, I would only be watching his fight, even if it was brief. At one point, I wanted to watch Blaze fight Eric. I suppose it would have looked very exciting.

Blaze disappears from sight, and Motley turns to face me—her eyes full of confusion, she's completely at a loss as to what she should do right now.

"Do you want to talk to him?" I ask quietly. The pegasus' face displays a spectrum of emotions. The audience around does not pay any attention to us: they are all consumed by the tumultuous emotions after watching such a beautiful and marvelous fight.

"I... This is... so unexpected," she says at last. "I've already mentally buried my friends and the special pony. I don't know how Blaze will react to my appearance. Violet..."

"I remember her reaction."

"He fought on the slave grounds, which means he lost his freedom as well as his ability to fly," Motley's voice trembles.

"If you don't want to talk to him..."

"I'm the reason he's in this position," she continues, breathing heavily but trying to keep her composure. "The only thing I'm in a position to do... is free him."

"I'd like to do that too, but can you imagine how much slave fighters cost? Especially ones so popular and capable. We simply don't have enough caps. The Arena Management will offer his master or mistress a large amount of caps that we won't be able to cover. Plus, I doubt he or she would want to sell such an experienced fighter to anyone else. I doubt that fact is unknown to the masters."

"You think I don't know it without you?!" Motley raises his voice. "He was my friend! We were a squad!" Her voice drops to a whisper and her gaze drifts somewhere off to the side. "I can't leave him here, in this horror. I... Already crippled him by one wing then in the firefight. Because of me, the masters for their own sadistic desire and pleasure tore off his other wing as well..." she lowers her head heavily.

"Let's find him and his master, and then we'll see," I say.

I'm more than sure that Blaze will be very unhappy to meet the familiar that got him here. Lost his ability to fly.

***

I pick up the weapons in the main lobby, and Motley and I find Blaze and his mistress a short time later in the slave fighter room where the locker room for the hockey players used to be. The other slaves and their masters are here.

Blaze is the first to notice the appearance of the new ponies in close proximity to him. His green eyes go wide and then fill with anger. He rushes to attack Motley, but is stopped with a gesture of the hoof by the olive-colored unicorn with a short mane of dark scarlet.

"Whoa-whoa, easy," the mistress hastily stops her slave. "Calm down, if you hurt them, I'll have to answer for it."

"I don't give a shit about the other one, I just want her!" The wingless dark gray pegasus says angrily, "Let me gut this bi..."

He cries out, the unicorn's front hoof hitting him on his bandaged back.

"I said calm the fuck down! You know what I'll do to you if you don't obey!"

The anger of the gray pegasus with the black mane changes to barely perceptible fear, and he falls silent, but his full fury gaze continues to burn through Motley. The expression on her face mirrors the storm of thoughts and emotions going through her head.

"Okay," the unicorn looks at us, "let's get to the point. Who are you?"

"Just audience," I reply calmly, struggling to maintain the friendliness in my voice. "And we would like to buy your slave."

"I find it hard to believe that you know him as nothing more than a common slave. So don't bullshit me."

"An old... acquaintance," I explain. "We never expected to find him here. We need to settle some business with him."

"What kind of business?" the unicorn inquires, focusing her attention on me and only occasionally glancing at Motley, who keeps her gaze on Blaze.

"That shouldn't concern you. We just want to buy him back from you." The unicorn laughs.

"That's not going to happen. He's a capable fighter, both in the ring and in the... bed. I love how he likes to beg me for the opportunity to fight in The Arena..." At those words, Blaze averts her eyes in disgust mixed with shame. "You'll settle your score with him later. In about a year, he'll be free. Or maybe sooner, depending on how he begs. And I have no intention of bargaining with you, unless you offer me at least thirteen grand for this handsome."

I look away awkwardly. Holy shit, what an insolent bitch. In my time in the Wasteland, I've never heard of slaves costing that kind of caps!

"Your silence indicates that you don't have that amount of money, so this conversation is no longer worthwhile. So I advise you to scurry away, or else this whole thing won't come to any good."

The unicorn walks past us smugly and pompously, followed reluctantly by Blaze, who pauses for a brief moment as he passes next to Motley and whispers barely audible to me: "Wait, you'll answer for everything I've been through here, you fucking bitch," he shoves her defiantly with his shoulder and follows his mistress.

His anger is understandable—as is Violet's. Both of them have had a hard time. And both have put all the blame on Motley, even though she only defended herself, while they went after her themselves.

The pegasus stands as if her hooves were chained to the floor, hesitant to say anything. Her legs suddenly give out. She sits down on a nearby bench and bows her head.

"Motley?" I say cautiously, approaching her.

"What?!" she raises her head sharply.

Her eyes are watery. My heart clenches in pain and my stomach feels like it's being tied in a knot and falling into a huge hole. I sit down next to her and hug her reassuringly. Motley nuzzles her nose into my neck and sobs bitterly, trying to keep from sobbing. I slowly stroke her head.

I cuddle her tightly against me, covering her with my body in an attempt to protect her from the pain of the world around her.

"I understand what you're going through," I say sympathetically.

Her friend, a former squad member who lost a wing and then another, is now an outcast of the Enclave and is in the shackles of slavery through pain and torment. And all of this is partly on the pegasus' conscience. If I were her, I would take all the blame, which makes me realize how much she needs support.

"Don't think 'what if...' Right now you have to think about the present and how to ease his suffering and set him free."

"How?" she says in a broken voice and hugs me tighter.

"Don't be so discouraged. There is always a way out. There isn't one when the ground falls on your coffin, and even then it's not a fact."

I suddenly remember how I've been buried alive in a grave twice and been rescued, once by a securitron and the second time by the only bounty hunter who didn't betray me.

"I'm here with you, and I'll help you, so chances are you'll succeed. We'll figure something out, I promise, but for now, let's get out of here. If I make promises, I'll fulfill them, even if I'm smashed to bits."

***

I buy some food, and we rent a room for two in one of the hotels near The Arena with two separate beds, which is important.

"Who was Blaze in your squad?" I ask, sitting in one of the padded chairs. Motley sits in the other one right next to mine. She's worried, uncomfortable with the realization that her close friend is now suffering.

"A good and capable soldier. Not bad at shooting different weapons, as good as me in hoof-to-hoof combat, and adept at technology, but within the scope of all sorts of air transportation."

"You mean he was a pilot?"

"The best on the course," Motley smiles weakly, nibbling his lips restlessly during her pauses. "He could skillfully pilot various types of transports, both conventional and combat. He derived as much pleasure from it as he did from flying. Losing his wings for a pegasus is equivalent to..."

"Castration of a stallion, I get it," I put in.

The pegasus' multicolored eyes look at me strangely, yet she nods weakly.

"I've tried to avoid the topic, realizing how hard this is for you. But what did happen in that fight after all?" I inquire. "You don't have to answer if it hurts you to remem-."

"It's okay. I need to tell you..." she sighs heavily and bites her lower lip again.

It's hard to watch this, so to give her some comfort and encouragement, I place my hoof on her shoulder. She shudders at the touch and looks at me, then nods weakly and continues speaking, slowly and sometimes with long pauses between sentences.

"At one point in the fight, Violet used a plasma grenade against me. I managed to throw it back, and it exploded next to Violet. Apparently not that close if she managed to survive it, but she was definitely thrown out the window by the shockwave. Hit Blaze in the wing during the fight. It started to, uh... melting, and he screamed in agony and fell down. It doesn't take much thought to realize that the other wing was just ripped off for completeness, so to speak," the pegasus says with bitterness and disgust in her voice. "Light... He never once attacked at full strength during the fight. Most likely he was just exhausting me so he could capture me later. I was severely wounded. He decided this was a good chance to capture me alive, and came close to me. I, knowing the weak spot in his power armor, stabbed him with the stinger built into my tail. That blow proved fatal to him."

"At least you didn't kill your frien-"

"Instead, I broke their lives: they experienced suffering and agony because of me. That is far worse than death. All the responsibility is on me," she interrupts me without raising her head. Blaise's appearance has revived those consuming thoughts and feelings in her again.

"It's their fault for following you."

"Violet... Light... They all died because of me. If it were possible, I would give my life for the three of them, just so they wouldn't suffer and would be alive."

I stroke her shoulder.

"I would give my life for Brisa, too. But we need to think about today. What we can still fix. Blaze is still alive, and that's what matters most. So let's think together about how to pull your friend out of the shit he's gotten himself into. Take a deep breath. No, let's together..."

I take a deep breath; the pegasus repeats after me. Then I exhale as she does. A few more times, she takes a few deep breaths on her own.

"Thank you for... helping me cope," the awkwardness is palpable in her voice, but of a different kind. Realizing she's calmed down, I remove my hoof from her leg and sit up normally.

"Let's continue about Blaze. I was just thinking about what his owner said when she mentioned what she was doing to him, why was he so disgusted to hear it?"

"The thing is, Blaze.... um... how to put it... He doesn't like mares in that way," Motley says, causing me to go into a bit of a stupor. Shit... He had the misfortune to have a slave mare.

"Oh..." I shake my head, shaking off the unnecessary thoughts that, as usual, are taking me into the wrong wilds. "What else can you tell me about him?"

"A little cynical, but good natured. He liked to make jokes; mostly failed miserably, actually, just like you," the pegasus waits for a brief pause, studying my face, which doesn't show anything special.

Even at times like this, she tries to tease me. Good for her. Apparently, she herself has a fondness for jokes in her past.

"He tried to defuse the general tension during missions and assignments. All failures perceived in a joking tone with a dose of cynicism, philosophically, as he said: say, in comparison with eternity, it's all nothing. Something like that. When I looked at him today, I was especially pained by what had become of him. It was the first time I'd seen him so depressed and exhausted. It was my fault he was put in that position. And the way he reacted to me... so much anger and rage. It was even worse to hear that kind of thing from him."

"But you hung in there," I smile warmly at her. "And I'm proud of you."

"Only because you helped me. Without you..."

"I'm glad to be of service to you. How are we going to get him out of this mess..."

I yawn widely, and Motley follows me, too.

"Oh," I utter, "we'll think about that tomorrow, nothing sensible is coming to my sleepy head right now. Let's go to bed."

"I'm going to get some fresh air... lots of it. Good night," she leaves the room without letting me say anything.

Well, it'll be easier for me to fall asleep in her absence. I undress and hop on the bed, wrapping myself tightly in the blanket and falling asleep almost immediately.

***

17th of the Month of Heather, Yellowday. Fifty-fifth day of my stay.

So, uh... where am I? Oh, right. I remember. I feel just fine after a long sleep.

I slowly open my eyes and look at the clock on the wall. It's early morning.

I look back at the bed next to me, where Motley is sleeping... Motley was supposed to be sleeping. But judging by the crumpled bedclothes, she's already awake. But where's the pegasus herself? Where had she gone? After twenty minutes of lying down and coming to my senses, I dress and am about to leave the room, but the door opens before me, and my thoughtful companion appears behind it. Noticing me in the doorway in front of her, she shrieks in confusion.

"Oh, you're awake already, and here I am... While you were sleeping, I decided to go to a restaurant for breakfast. So as not to come back with empty hooves, knowing that you would also be hungry... so, uh... bought you some food," she leans down and pulls a small bag out of her satchel with her teeth.

"Oh, thank you so much for your concern," I smile, magically taking the bag and heading back to the room. I sit down in a chair and sort through the contents of the bag. Motley sits down in the other chair.

"Where did you get the caps for this?" I inquire casually.

The bag contains a light breakfast: sugar bombs, two fresh apples, a large freshly baked muffin, and a bottle of Queen's Kiss. The last time I drank it was when I was at Luxury hotel with Flow.

Something makes me crave a strawberry dessert...

"The ones I won from you on your bets."

"You didn't have to spend money for me. I've got plenty of my own."

"No, no. It's okay," she smiles softly. "Anyway, I can't buy much with it."

"Well, thanks again, then," I reply. Oh, so it's a gift, then. That's nice of her. Reminds me of the time she went shopping with the Bluerise and got snacks and didn't even think of me, but then bought me baked apples on a stick afterwards.

So that she doesn't just stare at me eating, I decide to ask some not at all unreasonable questions.

"How did you manage to fall asleep later than me and wake up earlier?" I wonder and stuff another sugar bomb into my mouth.

I like to treat myself to a sweet treat in the morning sometimes. Even though I'm not that much of a sweet taster.

"I was on the roof and just looking at the clouds," the expression on the pegasus' face twitches with a shadow of nostalgia for a while. "I kept having thoughts of Blaze. I ended up barely sleeping for a couple hours. Unpleasant and restless thoughts kept rushing into my head. At breakfast, I was thinking about how to get Blaze out."

"I thought I said we were going to ponder together. Oh, come on. She won't sell him to us anyway," I say, chewing on the last of bombs. "At least..." I take the muffin and take a bite of it.

Fresh and sweet baked goods... just like a song. Delicious!

"...Until he wins the last, hundredth match," I continue, chewing on a bite of the muffin. "Which won't be for another year at the earliest."

"I can't stand that kind of wait."

"We could try stealing it."

"Steal it?" the pegasus wondered, then frowned. "That would be dangerous. Besides, the mistress knows of our interest in Blaze."

"We need an alibi," I say, finishing the soft muffin.

I take a bite of the apple. Taking bite after bite from it, I periodically lick my lips, licking the apple juice off of them. I notice Motley's eyes on me, or rather on the apple. And offer her a second apple.

"Huh?.. No thanks, I don't want one," she gives me a slight smile.

"Go ahead, I can see the way you're looking at that apple... you must be hungry yourself."

"I'm not looking at-" the pegasus is suddenly silent, pressing her lips together.

"And at..?" I don't have time to ask the question before she snatches an apple from my hooves and takes to eating it with burning cheeks.

Now I don't quite get it. What has confused her so much, and where, if not on the food, she... I remember staring at Flow while she ate strawberry dessert at the hotel; I thought of the ambiguity of what I had seen. And I also remember responding to the pegasus' words that she was a skillful with tongue.

What a perverted imagination she had. Just like mine.

"So," I continue, "we need an alibi. We'll ask our friends to handle the change of ownership. You know the kind of friends I'm talking about..." I hint at the Stable with the escaped slaves.

"What are we going to do?"

"For starters, we go back there and ask for clues as to who might be able to help us," I say, finishing my apple.

I put the bottle of Queen's Kiss in my bag. I'll drink it later. I don't feel like drinking alcohol lately.

I'm just now noticing. There's a great variety of alcoholic beverages in this city, but why did the pegasus choose this one? I don't remember telling her I've ever tried it. I feel like she's hinting at something with the name of the drink. 'Kiss.'

It's unlikely. It's just a coincidence. And as usual, I'm looking for meaning where none exists, especially now that part of me is pushing me closer to Motley. Damn hormones.

I turn the room in to the receptionist, and we head to Venture.

***

"Maybe you want me to paint you in a painting?" an earth pony of dark turquoise color asks, blocking our way.

"Why would I do that?" I'm perplexed. The mare's face expresses desperation.

"It's beautiful when your identity rests on the canvas. It will be your own mirror of the emotions and feelings you experienced in that moment!"

"That's what cameras are for."

"Soulless and cold apparatuses can memorize reality, but no more than that, because they do not see the inner state, soul, emotions and impressions. Only the living can see the soul, display it on the canvas as we see it. Show the true beauty of the soul and the depth of the heart. So," the mare worries, "will you take the order? Or at least buy a painting?"

"Artists are a rarity in the Wasteland," I pronounce.

I'm reminded of a previously acquainted artist, Michael Angelo, who lived on the Strip in New Vegas and suffered from agoraphobia, that is, a fear of open space. I once helped him with inspiration by running all over Mojave and photographing famous landmark signs. But I've met artists of varying skill levels in other parts of the Badlands before that.

"I wouldn't mind, but what's the rush?"

"I'm having trouble with my income, that's all. There are hardly any customers lately; few want paintings, especially from lesser-known artists. I've had no luck with connections... So you agree?"

"That's not really the problem, as far as I know artists will always have commissions, especially in the current times when they are in abundance. Connections only help you find rich buyers. I'll ask again, what's the rush? I can see the anxiety."

"My husband is missing. I found a note at the door that said ransom was due. If I don't collect the required number of caps in a week, they will give him into slavery and erase all memory!" the artist's eyes fill with tears. "And I won't be able to find him in this huge city anymore."

"How much did they demand?"

"Twelve thousand caps. It's been five days, and I haven't even collected a third of it."

"Have you contacted the police?"

"The kidnappers mentioned that if the police started investigating, they'd kill him. Besides, the police can search for months, everyone knows how slow they are in cases like this. I have no choice but to work day and night, but even so I can't keep up..."

I think I should try looking for her husband. Prince said that I need to be bonded to the city, and how can I do that without helping the citizens of the city? Besides, I don't mind helping.

"We'll look for him," I say. "I'll help you. Just tell me where to start looking?"

"B-but I told you, if there's an investigation..."

"It was about the police," I interrupt gently, "and I don't belong to them. Just a random passerby, or an acquaintance of yours who decided to look for his wayward friend," I smile warmly.

It's odd that the kidnappers set such a short time frame and amount of money. Also, not a rounded amount: ten, twenty thousand. And I doubt her husband will be kept alive, even if she gives the necessary amount. She said herself she has no connections, and the police here are unlikely to do anything.

"When did he go missing?"

"Thank you very much! He was supposed to come back from work at the factory five days ago, but he never made it. He was always late, as he liked to visit some bar on his way home."

"Which one?"

"He didn't visit the same bar several times in a row, his choices were random. But usually the establishments weren't too far from the road home."

"Can you give me a description of your husband?"

"His name is Longhooves, he is a twenty-nine year old, lavender colored earth pony. Short wavy white mane, smoky blue eyes. Was dressed in a red sweater, leather gray jacket, gray pants. He works at a metal recycling plant seven blocks east of here. Please find him in these two days or else his-" the mare lowers her head. I walk over to her and place my hoof on her shoulder. She raises her gaze to me.

"We'll find him, I promise."

"Thank you... I'll continue my work for now, maybe I can sell something to passersby."

We head towards the factory.

"Motley," I say, "you move faster. Fly down to the factory and ask the administration if our missing guy left the factory and at what approximate time. I'll go to the bars... you know, to investigate."

"Sure."

I spend several hours walking through the various taverns, asking the barpony about the missing guy. To no avail: all these bars Longhooves had not visited five days ago, but he himself was remembered as a frequent visitor. When Motley returned to me, she reported that he had left the factory at seven o'clock in the evening as usual five days ago, and had not been seen since.

Motley and I separate again. She goes to the bars now, too, only separately from me. It'll be quicker that way. And if we don't make any progress by tonight, we'll go back to the artist. Then plan "B" will come into play: we'll check the place where the caps should have been left. The kidnapper has to check it himself. That's how we'll get him! I somehow forgot to ask the artist about this. Shit! I don't even know her name. Realizing this gives me a mental facehoof.

"Hello," I say to another barpony. He looks at me without much interest, wiping a large glass. "Have you seen five days ago, somewhere between seven and eight o'clock this evening, a lavender earth pony in his thirties with a white mane, wearing a leather gray jacket and a red sweater?"

"Let me think," he replies and sets the glass on the table, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, I remember. He got pretty drunk with one of the customers that day, they spent an hour talking quite boisterously and keeping the rest of us quiet. I had to ask them several times to be quieter."

"When and how did they leave?"

"The one you described was drunk out of his mind, barely standing on his own four legs. The other one paid for him and helped him out of my bar. I think they took a left turn..."

"What did the other one look like?"

"I don't remember. Warm coat."

"Thanks," I reply and head for the exit.

I make my way out onto the street.

They made a left turn. I walk down the street that way—maybe I can figure something out. I walk along the street for a bit, but I don't see anything unusual, so I stand still. The ponies go about their business, not even paying attention to my presence.

Maybe I should go through the local houses and ask the occupants...?

"Hey, handsome," a mare's voice calls out to me.

The white-colored mare stands on her hind legs in a small alleyway, resting her back against a stone wall and smoking a cigarette.

"Thinking about having some fun?" she asks.

She's dressed in a provocative open black outfit, the cutouts in it positioned around her hips, drawing the customers' attention there, and the pony's face is heavily painted. Lipstick, lined eyebrows.

Wait, if she's here a lot, maybe-

"What's on your mind, sugar?" she smiles. "Thinking about what we could do in private, huh?" she asks softly, flicking the cigarette butt away and heading towards me.

"Not really," I smile. "Say, how often do you come here?"

"Want to come visit me next time, honey?" she asks, stepping up close to me.

"Maybe. Depends on what you say."

"And what's so charming that you're interested?"

"Five days ago at about eight o'clock at night, did you notice two drunken stallions here, one of them still helping the other walk."

"Hmm... I was here then. And there were quite a few drunks."

"One of them was wearing a gray jacket, the other a warm coat. Didn't see them?"

"Uh... I remember."

"Can you tell me where they went?"

"Information worth a cap," she throws her front legs over my shoulders and looks me in the eye. "Fifty caps, and I'll tell you. Or I'll give you a discount, just two hundred caps, and we'll spend an hour of pleasure together and then I'll tell you about it. Not only can I suck you off, but I can also swallow your little buddy so deep you'll fantasize about it on lonely nights," the mare purrs gently.

The hardest thing to persuade are these kinds of... personalities. They earn their... sharp tongue, you can't fool them that easily.

"Couldn't the beauty tell me the information for free? Or does she really want to whet the stallion's 'sharp' urges?" I say caressingly, partially drawing my shock sword from its sheath. The mare's gaze becomes uneasy at the sight of the sword. "What do you think?"

"All right..." she smiles strainedly, takes her hooves off my shoulders and turns, looking towards the alleyway on the opposite side of the street. "I offered them a good time then, but the more sober stallion refused and went into that alley," she points with a hoof.

"Thank you."

I head into the designated alley. Behind me there is some swearing.

I take the alley to another street.

Poverty, stench and trash. No slaves walk here, much less well-dressed non-slaves. The ponies that pass me by look in my direction strangely and with undisguised wariness and sometimes contempt. It's not good. If they think of robbing me, they'll get themselves in trouble, because I don't give in easily. It's got a Freeside in Mojave or New Reno street vibe to it.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" a mare asks in an unfriendly gruff voice from the side of the dumpster.

Near the dumpster, an earth pony in rags is lying on old dirty newspapers and other trash. She is filthy, and there is a bad smell coming from her. The mare gives me a wary look, then softens a little.

"Are you going to answer?" she rushes.

"Looking for someone," I reply, approaching her. "Shouldn't you be concerned about the presence of a pony as conspicuous as me?"

"No. You're clearly not here to capture poor folks and sell them into slavery for cheap."

"Why wouldn't you want to willingly serve someone?"

"Fuck it! I don't want to beg for a collar from a rich master. Whether I become a slave or not doesn't matter. It's my choice. I'm responsible for myself... as long as I can. I'd rather die on my own, though."

"What about the Crater or the Wasteland?"

"I don't think I'd survive there. I'd rather be chained up and fucked to death with various perverted acts."

"So what makes you think I'm not one of those who kidnap the inhabitants and enslave them?"

"They're not dumb enough to glower like you do. The ones to fear are poorly dressed ponies and beggars like me. Either they'll turn out to be planted ducks, or they'll want to make caps and catch and sell us. What's the point of these questions? Leave me alone, let me die free in peace. And get out of here if life is precious."

"Did you see two drunken stallions here five days ago? One of them was dragging the other on top of him. They came out of the same alley I did."

"Maybe I did..."

I pull out a bottle of Queen's Kiss. The earth pony's eyes hardly sparkle at the sight of it. It doesn't feel right to give away what Motley has carefully acquired for me, and with her caps won from me in The Arena during friendly bets. But I think she'll understand.

"It's been so long since I've had my favorite drink... Who did you ask about... they went to that house," she points with a gesture of her hoof to a three-story building, never taking her mesmerized gaze off the bottle of delicately golden liquid.

"Thank you," I reply and hand the bottle to the beggar.

She presses it to her cheek and rubs her face lovingly against it.

Above the main entrance of the house there are a few wooden boards with the words "Cheap lodging" written in paint on them.

Once inside the lodge, I turn to the caretaker. The earth pony is sitting at a broken wooden desk with nothing on it but some papers. They appear to have once been pages of magazines, books, and newspapers. They are all dirty, wrinkled. I think this stallion just wants to pass the time by trying to figure out what is written or drawn there. You can see it in his bored look, staring at the torn page on his hooves. Noticing me, he looks up and frowns worriedly.

"Have you seen two drunken ponies, one dragging the other on top of him five days ago in this neighborhood?"

"What business is it of yours?" the pony replies surly.

"Important. Looking for a friend of mine. Still can't find my hapless buddy who got lost in this town. These two are the only ones who have seen him and know of him."

"Well..." the stallion's gaze softens slightly. I toss a small tinkling pouch—about a hundred caps—onto the table. The caretaker's face brightens. "You go straight ahead, then turn right, third door."

"Thank you!" I move in the direction indicated and draw my revolver as soon as I'm at the door. The whole place is dirty and moldy, the walls and ceiling are peeling, and there's a nasty stench in the air.

I stand at the door and listen, trying to catch a sound from inside. It's silent.

I hope it's not a mistake, or I'll have more than one broken door to fix.

I kick them with all my might. The handle comes off, and the door swings inward and smashes into the dirty concrete wall.

Inside it's the same as the hallway—dust, dirt, and mold. A modest bed, on which lies a tied up pony. A dark orange stallion in a brown cape sits on a chair with some fashion magazine, staring at me dazedly.

"Don't move!" I shout out, pointing the barrel at the unicorn. The one tries to use telekinesis on me, but is unsuccessful because of my protective necklace; it abruptly leaps out of its seat and jumps through the window, shattering it.

Now I have to pay for the window.

I jump out next. Damn, that prick is fast!

Once I'm on the street, I see the kidnapper rushing down the street. Passersby look at us in surprise. Wasting no time, I chase after him.

"Stop!" I shout after him. "You'll make it worse!"

"Fuck off!"

I concentrate and teleport very close to him: now only a few feet separate us. Using telekinesis again, I grab his back leg for a brief moment—he crumbles to the cold pavement, I jump on top of him and give him a hard smack on the head with my revolver.

"Ouch, fuck... it hurts!" he groans.

"You try any magic tricks and your brains will end up on the pavement," I threaten, putting the barrel to the back of his head.

"Chill out, friend, can't we make a deal?" he says fearfully.

"Who just told me to fuck off, huh?"

"I overreacted, let's settle this whole thing."

"Sing and I'll decide later."

"Okay... Are you police?" the kidnapper asks warily.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. Depends on why you kidnapped that pony."

"Yeah we had a drink with him and I helped him home. That's all."

"Just not to the right house. Wrong address, buddy. I'm going to let you stand up now. You make an extra move and you'll remember what I told you about brains. You won't be able to remember anything else then, though."

"Okay-okay, I don't want any trouble," he assures hurriedly.

I let him stand up, but use telekinesis to hold the barrel, pointing the muzzle at his temple. I search him for weapons just in case, revealing a medium caliber pistol.

"Come on. You're going to explain everything to me."

We walk back into the filthy room of the dens. I remove the gag from the bound Longhooves' mouth, untie the restraints. He thanks me, then looks at his captor with hatred.

"He wanted to rape me!" he rages, pointing a hoof at the dark orange unicorn with a yellow mane in disgust.

"Calm down," the kidnapper replies. "I was just joking and pretending. You're a glorious and sweet stallion, but... no."

"No fucking way! Looking... over there."

"Thought maybe you'd say yes. If I showed you what I could do. But you were wriggling around so much I wasn't interested. A cock is the kind of thing you can't lift with a crane unless it wants to."

Longhooves turns to me with a twisted face.

"What are you going to do with him?"

"Yes," the kidnapper agrees, looking at me with interest. "Are you going to tie me up and spank me?"

"Sorry, but I'm not a fan of spanking studs on the ass," I reply and turn to the lavender earth pony. "Can you walk home? Your wife's been worried sick."

"I'll get there. You take care of that bastard. He starved me and told me what he was going to do to me to pass the time," the pony says with disgust.

"I've been watching your figure, buddy," the kidnapper smirks. "And yeah, the only thing long is your name."

"Fuck you!" a blushing Longhooves leaves. I am left alone with the unicorn.

"He has no sense of humor at all," my prisoner observes. "Can't take a joke. By the way, what were you really going to do to me?"

"For starters, I need to fix the door and the window."

"This is a fucking dump!" the kidnapper resents. "Give the caretaker ten caps and don't sweat it. He'll fix the whole place up for a couple of caps."

"Well, if you say so," I shrug. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Flame Heart. And what's yours, my naughty eggplant?"

Is he serious or something?

"Daniel. And I'm not your naughty eggplant, at least I'm not an eggplant."

"Ha ha ha," Flame chuckles. "And you're not a bad fella with an unusual name. Why don't we get out of here and have a drink somewhere? I'm getting tired of sticking around here, re-reading the magazine for the umpteenth time and warming up by the jokes."

"No," I smile and holster my revolver. We head for the exit. I follow behind just in case. "I'm not going to drink with you. In case I wake up in a dumpster somewhere later with a pain in my ass."

"Mmm... What a smile," he says half-turned. "You gonna give me my gun back or what?"

"You don't deserve it."

"What do I have to do to deserve it? Lube yours?" Flame smiles mischievously. Despite the jokes, he's worried. Perhaps he's trying to reduce the tension and calm himself.

"When you answer my questions."

"We'll play 'who wants to be a millionaire'?"

"Sort of. The answers have to be honest," I say and hand the caretaker another couple dozen caps as I walk past him. "Sorry about the door and window," I smile awkwardly at him. He darts his eyes at me in bewilderment, but we leave the building in a hurry.

"Soft you are. Can the same be said of your butt?"

"Did you forget what I said earlier?" I inquire.

"I thought in case you wanted to try it."

"Thanks, but I never got over myself."

"Sometimes it's so hard to find a good stallion," Flame sighs. "It's always those mares that pick out the best."

"It seems to me," I say, "that the reason you don't like mares lies in more than just your preferences."

"Maybe. But mostly I hate Softhooves mares. Always make the stallions the scapegoats. All the dogs are always and everywhere being hung on us, you know, bro?"

"Now I want to hear some answers. Why did you kidnap Longhooves?"

"Didn't expect you to have a problem with the top head. To make a quick buck, of course!"

"That I get, but for what? The ransom amount seems rather strange, as if it's for a clearly defined purpose or object. And such a short time frame, considering she simply didn't have time to collect that many caps."

"Well... Wait, seriously didn't have time?" the guy is genuinely surprised. I nod. "Blender in my ass! What a missed target. Look, dude, it all started at the bar. He and I started drinking, talking about stuff. Anyway, we got to talking, and he told me about his wife, a great artist. I thought she was making good money. So I decided to play kidnapper."

"Play?" I wonder.

"Sort of. I deliberately spooked his wife into working faster. On my own, I'd let him go."

"And you didn't think about the fact that you'd be pursued?"

"I'd scare him, too. I'd tell him I'd find him next time and have a good time with him."

"Brutal."

"For him, yeah."

"So... I get it, you weren't going to give him into slavery with a brainwashing..."

"I wasn't. He's a fine stud."

"But you never answered. What did you collect the caps for? My gut tells me there's something wrong here. You can't suddenly want to play kidnapper."

"If you let me go, I'll tell you."

"I'll let you go if you promise not to play games like that again."

"Yeah, even now, as long as it doesn't involve the bed front."

"No," I smile, "you can play whatever you want there. I don't give a damn, as long as it's mutually agreeable, of course."

"No shit! Of course, otherwise I despise it. Though if by pretend... I haven't touched Longhooves... well, hardly touched Longhooves. That's the way it is. My brother told me to get some caps to buy some stuff. To rob Vanhoover's elite whores!"

"Who?"

"I'm talking about the Softhooves."

"Why them?"

"Besides the fact that they're rich? My brother used to work for them and I told him it wouldn't do any good. Well, he likes mares, unlike me, and they used their charms on him so they could use him later, bitches. He's a smart pony, knows about terminals and stuff. There were some problems at his job that my brother was blamed for, even though he had absolutely nothing to do with them. They fired him and took all his money and left him on the street with his bare ass. I don't know what it would have been like for him if he hadn't had me. They'd have made him a slave, that's all. Eventually he wanted revenge on them, but there's obviously not enough caps to pull something like that off."

"And what were you planning to rob?"

"The Crystal Lotus."

"Two of us?!" I exclaim in amazement. "Are you fucking nuts?"

"Yes, yes, I know it's the richest and largest casino of the Softhooves family. But the catch is that it holds the personal assets of the Mother of the Family, that fucking cunt. Imagine, to fuck her up, avenging all the poor studs these bitches, Mother in particular, have mistreated. And don't believe the fact that this family just doesn't allow stallions to have any business or enterprise except, understandably, blood relatives. That's like believing that raiders rape, pillage, and murder in the name of goodness and justice!"

"How were the two of you going to rob the richest and most secure casino?"

"Making the plans is my brother's job. He's smarter than me, really, the irony is that I have two horns, he has one. He's an earth pony. His desire is to screw those whores. And I want to support him in that endeavor. And at this justice party, he's going to invite a few more guests who share our views and can help with their skills."

"What are your skills?"

"We were orphans, and we basically grew up on the streets doing thievery. Thanks to his ingenuity, we were able to avoid The School. I could rob you and you wouldn't even notice."

"Don't talk nonsense..." I stop talking, the gun I'd taken away during the search hovering in his telekinetic field.

"It's back to Daddy," he glances at the weapon, then hides it in the bowels of his cloak and smiles weakly. "And your mouth goes wide. You sure you're not into studs?"

"If I'm missing anything, blame yourself."

"Don't worry. We only rob bad bastards and rich folks. Now, I know how to be stealthy, pick locks and pick pockets. And my brother's into technology, hacking into terminals and can also be stealthy, like when someone blows a whisperer."

"Is that a hint about firing a silenced weapon?"

"No," the dark orange unicorn chuckles. "I meant it literally. You have a strange habit of looking for meaning where there is none. But... you gave me an idea of what to say when you hear a noise coming from someone's ass: 'Who's shooting in there, and without a silencer?'"

I laugh, unable to help myself.

"And your laugh is melodic," Flame smiles. The excitement has definitely weathered out of his voice by now. "Definitely a cutie."

"Don't you think this is all rather risky? I mean taking the financial burden off Softhooves' shoulders."

"Don't bother. We won't be performing for a while yet, since you can't trust anyone in this city. But you seem okay. My brother just asked me to find caps for some equipment. I could just rob the masters, but I got tired of that, so I wanted to try something new."

"Do you take contracts?"

"I'm interested in you. What's the deal?"

"I need to free a slave. And not just steal him: we need to steal and burn his owner's papers that he's his slave, and also tweak a few things about him in the registration book. Just which one, I don't know."

"Don't worry, I know which documents we're talking about, they refer to each other. I've done it with my brother more than once. We'll make it look good. It'll cost 3,000 jingles. It's a risky job, you know."

"I forgot to tell you, this stallion slave is a sex toy in the hooves of a unicorn. Trouble is, he's not up to mares."

"Don't say another word. I'm dropping the price to two thousand. We don't leave our own behind!"

"He used to be a pegasus, but because he lost a wing, the other one was torn off for completeness."

"Listen, does his mistress matter to you?"

"Are you going to kill her?"

"Maybe. We'll see what kind of lady she is. But if I don't like her. I'm gonna give that bitch what she deserves first. I'll break her horn and shove it up her asshole and put coals in her cunt. And then I'll kill her."

"I don't want to be responsible for her death!"

I don't like his intentions at all. For her behavior with others, I would punish her, but hardly in that way. I'd castrate for rape. But this one. I don't know. I don't like this and what it could lead to. I doubt I can talk him out of it, and I'm not going to defend the unicorn. But how would Motley feel about it? She once avenged her sister by brutalizing a pegasus she's not even sure is guilty. How would she react?

"What? There's no way I'm giving you that privilege," he smiles. "This is entirely my initiative. We'll get on the case today. Give me all the information you know and that little cunt will get what she deserves."

I tell him everything I know myself. He's upset that I don't know her name, but is surprised to learn that her slave is one of the most famous fighters in The Arena. Flame adds that in that case he'll have to change the records in The Arena, making his disappearance look like death for unknown reasons, but he doesn't change the price. As soon as I mention that Blaze, Black Peru, has to beg his mistress for the chance to fight for freedom, Flame Hart has such a burning hatred for the mare that I can't help but sympathize.

Well, better for him to find out now than on the spot. That way his anger will subside a little and his judgment will kick in. I doubt he'll let her live. I ask Flame, after releasing Blaze, to come see the artist whose husband I kidnapped. He agrees, saying he'll take the caps for the work he's done. And I'll stay clean. I generally don't like the mistress being killed. On the other hand, if she does, she'll investigate, and it'll get to everyone, me first. She'll suspect me, since I was interested in buying it.

Flame, like he said, will do what he knows: no pony, no problem.

***

"Look who's coming!" I hear a familiar mare voice say. The artist is standing outside her house, where we first met her. Her husband is beside her, and not far from them is Motley, gazing boredly at the neighborhood and passersby. When she sees me, she brightens up and smiles weakly, waving her hoof at me in greeting.

I smile, seeing how happy the artist is to have her husband back. That joy on her face... I wish I could see that expression all the time. It makes me feel warm and good inside.

"Thank you!" she runs up to me, hugging me tightly.

"Glad to serve," I reply, giving the mare my smile and opening the hug. Speaking frankly, tracking down the kidnapper was easy. It's apparent that Flame didn't take the matter seriously.

"It's hard for me to put into words how grateful I am to you for saving hubby..." she turns to the pegasus. "I'm also grateful to you."

"I didn't really do anything," she replies. "That gentlecolt did," she adds, pointing at me.

"Don't be modest," I stand next to her and give her a friendly hug, throwing my right front leg over hers. "Moral support is just as important."

"How can I ever thank you..." the artist looks at us thoughtfully. After a couple seconds, her eyes widen. "I've got an idea! A worthy reward would be your image on the canvas."

"Will we have to pose for the painting?" I ask playfully.

"Not necessarily. Your image is already sealed in my memory. I will not forget it, and the exposure for the painting is is just right," she says, pointing at us with her hoof.

"Thank you," I twirl my hoof in anticipation of being complemented.

"Deep Blue," she says, bestowing us with a soft smile. "And what's your name?"

"I'm Daniel," I introduce myself, then gesture with my hoof to the pegasus. "And this lovely pony's name is Motley," the blood rushes to her cheeks.

"Excellent. I'll paint a beautiful picture for you in a little while. You must be in a hurry, I won't keep you. And how do I find you to give you the portrait?"

"We'll be back here tomorrow. There will be someone waiting for us. But, if you won't make it by then, I have an acquaintance who works at the Bottomless Chest store in Oasis of Vanhoover. She'll understand everything when she sees the artwork."

"Noted. And thank you so much again!"

"I owe you a drink," the previously silent Longhooves says.

"I'll take your word for it," I squint and point at him with a hoof. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"All the best to you," Deep adds. I wave goodbye and we move down the street. It's already starting to get dark.

"What did you do with the kidnapper?" the pegasus asks, keeping pace with me.

"The plan about Blaze is changing." The beige pony looks at me in surprise. She seems to think I've changed my mind about rescuing him. "I've hired someone else to free him. Namely the very same kidnapper."

"What?" the pegasus marvels.

"He proved himself to be quite the nice fellow. Inexperienced in kidnap and ransom, though. He... wanted to be a kidnapper, to try out what it was like, and it didn't go according to plan—he really didn't realize that Longhooves's wife wouldn't actually turn out to be such a rich artist. He needed the caps, but he decided to try something new, since the usual thieving business was boring him a little."

"He's a thief?"

"Not a bad one. He managed to steal my own gun, which I took from him when I captured him. He also said he'd done it more than once—I mean, stealing slaves. He has a brother who's a resourceful pony to help with that. And this kidnapper, by the way, his name is Flame Heart, has agreed to free your Blaze and correct the paperwork on his existence as a slave—for a fee, of course. He was almost willing to free him himself when I told him how Blaze was suffering in the hooves of a mare. And yes, Flame is a stud lover, too.

"How did you figure that out?" Motley frowns.

"Not in practice, that's for sure," I smile. The pegasus chuckles sweetly. "But he's hinted openly a couple times, suggesting something... You get the idea." She nods. "I still have something gnawing at me, though."

"What's that?"

"Let's just say that Blaze's mistress could get badly hurt and die. Flame has a grudge against mares if they disadvantage stallions. His hatred for Softhoovse is especially strong, all because of his brother who was set up by them. He voiced his plans for the slave mistress... I couldn't help but remember you telling me what you did to that pegasus." Motley lowers her head. "No, I realize I would hardly have done otherwise myself. It's easy to say from the outside that cruelty is unnecessary. I want to know what you think about it."

"I don't know," the pegasus replies after a brief pause, then looks at me.

"I didn't ask him to," I shrug. "He said he's not sure himself yet. He'll have to see what she's like. But personally, if a friend of mine were to be mistreated, I would at least break the offender's face. Well, here... about that... I don't know. I just want your opinion: does that pretentious unicorn deserve to die?"

"Let him decide."

"So you're not totally against it?"

"I'm against it, and I mean, I don't blame you for anything, but let it be as the stars align."

"Right..." I look forward for a moment, then around. "Where shall we go?"

"I don't know, I'm still worried about Blaze's fate."

"Why don't we do something together to take your mind off it? What do you think of the offer to train me in close combat?"

She nods.

We go back to the hotel, but get a room that's bigger so we have room to spread out. We buy food and drink to replenish our strength and begin our training. Motley, like me, is completely immersed in the action. All our thoughts are on it, that's all we talk about. Toward the end of the day we lie down in our beds and almost immediately fall asleep from exhaustion.

***

18th of the Month of Heather, Greenday. The fifty-sixth day of my stay.

"Not you," Blaze says stunned when he sees Motley. In the middle of the afternoon, we set off for Deep Blue. My pegasus was very nervous before meeting a former squad member. Flame is nowhere to be seen in the vicinity. Strange. The pegasus' back still remained bandaged.

"So..." I raise my hooves. "Take it easy. I understand how you feel about Motley, and I know what you've been through, but you were the one who followed her back then."

Blaze is silent. His gaze on the pegasus is filled with a multitude of emotions, mostly anger. She in turn also doesn't say a word, but looks worried and guilty.

"Talk in private," I say, "but please, peacefully. She went out of her way to help you, kept thinking about how to save you when she found out you were alive. At least hear her out, if you'd be kind."

"Flame told me it was you who asked him," Blaze hums.

"And it was Motley who asked me to. I don't know what happened to your mistress..."

"Don't mention that sick bitch again! It's in the past, as well as she herself is history. Manipulated me with the remnants from the wings on my back. You don't know how it hurts when they hit there. If it weren't for the pain-relieving drugs, I wouldn't even be able to fight."

Still, Flame hadn't let his mistress live.

"I'm grateful," Blaze continues, looking at me as if he's read my mind, "that you found just the one. A good pony who sympathized with my predicament. Now I can understand," he turns to Motley, "how you felt about wanting to avenge your abuser on your sister, even without confirmation of his guilt. I mostly watched that cunt suffer. I was a little relieved when she was gone."

"You know," I say, remembering what revenge is, "I was almost killed once, shot in the head and buried in a grave. But I managed to survive, and I got my revenge. Didn't torture him, didn't make him suffer—just shot him. Realized I was just another corpse in his path. It wasn't personal to him. But it was for me."

"He tried to kill you quickly too, didn't he? So it's no wonder why you just shot him. And that cunt... She abused me for a year."

"I understand..."

"You don't understand shit," he says sharply.

Motley intervenes in our conversation.

"I don't expect you to consider me a friend and forgive me. Let me speak my mind and then do what you want."

"We'll see," he turns and goes somewhere. Motley follows him. Pegasus turns to me for a second, pointing with a nod of his head to a bored pony on the opposite side of the street, "And yes, don't forget to thank someone."

I nod and head over to that pony. He's wearing a beige coat and a fedora of the same color on his head; he's leaning against a lamppost, holding a fresh newspaper in his hooves. I catch a glimpse of the headline on the front page: "KILLER OF THE RAIDER LEADER IN THE CRATER STILL RELIABLY UNKNOWN."

"Hello, how are you?" I ask Flame.

"Have we met?" he wonders, putting the newspaper down.

"You're Flame, aren't you?"

"Look closely."

No, it's not like I'm blind and I can see: those soft facial contours, the same dark orange coloring of the fur.... the same soft yellow mane. the same sweet voice. He takes off his hat—I'm not immediately sure what the gesture is about, but I remember Flame's words, "I have two horns, he has one." This pony is missing a horn.

"Are you his brother?" The pony nods demurely. "Twin?" He nods again, adding, "Only he has two horns, and..."

"...you have one," I complement. The stallion smiles softly.

"Yes. That's his style. Except he's not smart enough. Playing kidnapper... crazy. Honestly, I never could figure out where he disappeared to for five whole days. I'm grateful you didn't rat out my hapless brother. I didn't expect anyone here to be so lenient on a stranger who also committed a crime."

"What's your name?"

"Flare Heart."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Daniel. Your brother told me about your scheme. Isn't it too risky?"

"I want to teach them a lesson, but I realize the risk. That's why I'm preparing carefully. It requires hiring trustworthy ponies—but try to find them: the 'elite whores' of Vanhoover have a wide network of informants: better than any other family."

"And you want to cross them with those-" I roll my eyes.

Insane, honestly.

"I know, that's why I'm taking this very delicately and unhurriedly. Things would move noticeably if we had someone with us who has worked specifically at the Crystal Lotus and consequently knows enough about the place. However, the Softhooves are very sensitive about those who have been fired—often they are simply found dead in ditches and nooks and crannies—so finding one is unlikely."

"Why so drastic?"

"Erasing memories is unreliable. A few ponies out of a hundred recover the erased parts. It's inherent in the brain to restore the nearest neural connections."

"Besides reliable ponies, what do you need for your cause?"

"Funds. Speaking of which..."

"Right," I say, writing out a check for two thousand caps and holding it out to Flare. He puts it in his inside pocket.

"Thank you. I hope you keep your mouth shut about this case. After all, we know who kidnapped Black Feather."

I nod. He can blackmail me, but then he'd be in danger himself. He'd only use it if it was a threat to himself if I blabbed.

"Now I have to go," he's about to leave, but I hold him back.

"If I need your services again, how can I find you?" Flare pulls some paper with an address on it out of his inside pocket and holds it out to me. I glance at it quickly—there's an address on it, but... "But that's the address of a courier delivery service," I look at the pony in the warm coat in bewilderment.

"Ponies in my profession have to be sharp. Don't worry. I have reliable connections. Just send a letter there to the addressee with the initials F.H."

I walk back to Deep Blue's house and look around. Blaze and Motley are talking nearby. The noisy street makes it hard to distinguish the sounds, as the masters and their slaves are constantly wandering through it. But I can tell that the conversation is peacefu—and I don't need more than that.

I decide to visit the artist in her home for the time being.

Trying not to disturb Deep Blue, I enter without making much noise. The main room is full of unfinished canvases, painting equipment, and other delights of the artist's life. She's an excellent painter—I stare at the unfinished painting.

Such talent... It's a shame that very few ponies are interested in art nowadays. Deep Blue is so engrossed in painting that she doesn't notice my appearance.

"Hi," I say quietly.

"Oh," she exclaims, shuddering and turning around. "It's you... You scared me," she adds. She's wearing an apron splattered with multicolored paint.

"We can do without the formal tone." The pony nods in agreement, turning back to the canvas. "What are you painting?" I try to look, but the pony waves her hoof.

"No, no," she says hastily. "You can't look at it until I'm done preparing the surprise."

"Whatever you say," I smile. "Where's Longhooves? I remember he owes me a drink."

"He went to look for work earlier today," the artist continues her work, occasionally glancing at me. "Because of a five-day absence, he was fired, replaced by another. He's trying to go back to the factory. He liked working there, after all, he has good acquaintances there."

I'm not going to be able to enjoy the drink with Longhooves tonight. Well, it's nothing.

I go outside, sit down on the nearest bench, and start reading my spell book.

"Where are we going, chief?" Blaze asks. Motley is standing next to him. She doesn't look sad or depressed. They've probably come to some sort of truce.

"Where do you want to go?"

"I'm kind of new in town, but a lot of folks know me. I wouldn't risk just strolling its streets, considering I'm officially considered dead in The Arena. So show me your lodgings."

I look at the pegasus questioningly. She lowers her gaze in embarrassment and digs a shaft in the sidewalk with interest.

"I figured," she says quietly, "that you wouldn't mind if he lived with us."

"I'd already forgotten you were having a long conversation. I shouldn't have been surprised. Come, let me show you the wonder: I think you'll appreciate it. Motley, have you told our Blaze about my Venture?"

The pegasus shakes her head negatively.

"What wonder?" the stallion frowns. "What adventure? Do you love dangerous adventures?"

"Passionately love."

***

"Holy fuck!" the pegasus exclaims, looking up at the roof of the Bottomless Chest. "Where the hell did you get it?"

"You can find out for yourself," I smile. "A few of my friends live there. And yes, if you meet a pony-like robot or some other bucket of nuts aiming for your face on the way out of that bunker, tell them you're from me."

"Motley, I hope" the wingless pegasus doesn't take his eyes off Venture, "the Vertibuck's navigation system has the coordinates for your bunker."

"The bunker is called Heavenly Harbor, and the Vertibuck is called Venture."

"Don't worry, I won't hurt your bird. When can I pick you up?"

"I can take you by mysel-"

"I'll turn on-"

Motley and I start at the same time. She let me finish first.

"My spare PipBuck has a special chip in it, synchronized with the Venture's navigation systems. It can be used to track my location to within a few yards. If I turn it on, it'll be the signal to pick us up. Guarding the moment of activation will be a robot remotely controlled by Caroline."

"Caroline?"

"You'll know when you arrive. Do you want to fly now or walk around the market?"

"I want to get some peace and quiet already."

"There are plenty of rooms available in the bunker, so you can take your pick."

"Thank you. You won't mind if I fly this baby for a while, will you?"

"Just don't draw too much attention."

Blaze pushes off to fly up to the roof, but is bitterly reminded that he can't fly. He nearly lies down exhausted on the cold sidewalk, covering his head with his hooves. Motley helps him to the roof and stays there briefly. Bluerise doesn't come out of the store: she's busy serving customers. When she sees us, she waves her hoof at us through the window, which we do in return.

Motley comes down from the roof. The screws of Venture come into motion. A few seconds later, a familiar rumble is heard—once again attracting the attention of passersby and customers inside the store. Venture rises into the air and moves unhurriedly into the distance.

"He was so excited when he sat at the controls," Motley smiles weakly after the departing Vertibuck. "Said he wanted to fly as soon as possible, and asked me, unless I was going to stay and fly with him, to get out as soon as possible. Daniel..." she turns to me. "Thank you so much for giving me my friend back."

"He's forgiven you and considers you a friend again?"

"He said it's been too short a time for that. I don't deserve it. But thank you for helping him." She moves closer and hugs me, then lets me go. "Since this whole thing started, this is the first time I've seen him even slightly happy again since he sat down behind the controls of Venture. I'm more than sure you have a new pilot now."

"Do I detect a wistfulness in your voice?" I look at the pony curiously.

"In this short time, I have grown accustomed to it. Venture is truly delightful. Let Blaze enjoy her to the fullest."

"Now where shall we go?"

"I'm relieved it's over like this. It's so relaxed and nothing's on my mind."

"Let's have a nice meal, shall we?"

In the restaurant, her multicolored eyes are on my face most of the time. She's... attentive. It's flattering. It's both awkward and pleasurable at the same time. In her white and blue outfit, the pegasus is beautiful. Her lips. I want to kiss her lips.

I can't stop thinking about her.

And I can't give myself to her completely.

There are so many contradictions inside me. I want her—and I'm afraid to get closer to the ponies, feeling something wrong about getting closer at all.

We're not interested in the ponies around us, and we're not interested in them. It's not a quiet place. There is an open space not far from us, where some ponies are dancing to a quiet tune.

We've had dinner and now we're just talking.

"...Sure, I got a kick out of my dad, but the experience paid off," I utter.

"I can't believe," the beige pegasus laughs, "that you were so cruel to your father... Turned his electric razor into a taser. Your adventures in the Stable have been fun. How did you find your calling? A calling to dig into technology and stuff."

"There's not much fun to be had in a concrete chest. Before school, I took apart and reassembled everything I could get my hooves on. I was curious about how everything around me worked. I also liked to explore my Stable, but they don't let young lads in most of the rooms, so I used to climb through the vents and tight spaces."

"Have you... found something in your adventures? Had the chance to... peeping on others?" the pegasus asks in a naughty tone, biting her lip.

Peeping on others... The image of Motley under the jets of water pops back into my mind.

I blink, coming back to reality.

"No... nothing like that. I... stumbled upon a long-forgotten room once. It held a lot of interesting things, like music, movies, adventure literature."

"Why was all this hidden?"

"A sort of totalitarian regime was set up in my Stable. Kept the inhabitants in ignorance as to the true effects of the Great War by showing fake radio programs depicting a darker picture of life outside the Stable."

"Why?"

"Wanted to deter the residents from trying to leave the safe haven with such lies, while the Overseer himself had the right to leave it and communicate with the outside world."

"And that room? How did it come to be?"

"The residents brought a lot of things with them. There was a lot of literature, music, and movies that were forbidden, because they could all contribute to the residents' desire to leave the bunker. The secret room was forgotten about, and there was no desire to talk about the discovery after it was discovered, in case the Overseer decided to destroy everything."

"And you wanted to leave the bunker before you found the room?"

"Yes. I'd been in and out of places all the time, and that room was a joy to me—there was so much to see."

"An eager colt. How did you become an expert shooter while living in a peaceful bunker?"

"My father gave me an air rifle for my tenth birthday. And on the reactor level, they built me a special area where I could practice shooting."

"You have a wonderful father. What was he like?"

"Not a bad scientist and medic. He taught me first aid skills, which he solidified in the Wasteland. Otherwise, thanks to my scientist parents, I have something of a quick learner. Genes predispose me to memorization. Not in-depth, of course, but I learned the simplest basics quickly."

"You mentioned more than once that you worked as a bounty hunter. If you wanted to avoid bloodshed, then why did you follow that path?"

"I don't remember anymore," I say honestly, hesitating. "My first unofficial contracts were with three raiders who kept the local law enforcement authorities busy."

It would be redundant to mention that this was a rather close-knit kind of raiders called the Fiends, and those "authorities" were the NCR.

"Whoever hired me thanked me for the deliverance, informing me that I was boosting the morale of the fighters. Making their lives easier. Making life easier... Ridding the world of those who get in the way of others."

"Is that what motivated you?"

"Yes. That's what motivated me for a certain amount of time. Later, I officially—if I may say so—joined an office. It was run by just one... employee. This profane and cynical pony became my friend. He opened a bounty hunting office for the reason that he wanted to hunt down and kill one individual to avenge his brutally murdered loved ones. He would have understood your thirst for revenge. At some point, I realized I couldn't do that for the rest of my life—take the lives of others without trial and judgment."

"So... you found who you were looking for?"

"Yes... That friend of mine was killed by his hooves. And already I had to take revenge on the bastard—not only for my friend, but for the other things he did in front of me."

"Is that how you left your job as a bounty hunter?"

"I realized that while I was killing some ruthless bastards, others were taking their place, and that was starting more and more chains of deaths that were actually on my conscience. My responsibility begins the moment I pull the trigger. An endless cycle of killing. In this seemingly right fight, you can get so dirty that you become like those you fought against. I did not suffer from fanatical justice and quickly realized that everything is much more complicated than it seems. So I could no longer be in the business of hunting others down for the sake of killing them."

"What about it... After all, others will suffer because of their actions, those who don't want bloodshed."

"Too much responsibility. I've already done enough in nine years in the Wasteland. In a moment of rethinking my actions in the bounty hunting, I began to let go of those I should have killed. However, only those who were done with criminal activity. What's the point of me taking someone's life if he won't be harmful anymore? He might even do some good. And as for a just punishment in such a case... It's complicated, but I know that it won't make anyone better and certainly won't change anything. It's just the kind of bigotry for justice that I've almost drowned in."

"If I..." Motley says, "if you had been hired to chase after me for getting revenge on my sister..."

There's some protest inside. Against her being judged, let alone killed because of her one crime.

"You don't get executed for one murder."

"...And then three more ponies," the pegasus adds.

"Two ended up surviving."

"It doesn't matter. I'm a murderer. Four dead ponies in 26 hours. There'd be a bounty on me by now. What would you do?"

Tough question. There are so many options running through my head, I don't even have time to realize them. I feel a protest either way. Sharp and uncompromising toward trying to kill Motley for the reward.

"If I didn't know your story... And if I'd been in that mental state when I started the bounty hunt.... Yes. But! But... If I had known your story, and it had happened when I was already done with it—I would have let it go."

"Even if my revenge might have been... and unfair? Wrong about the responsible one?"

"Yes. And the other three deaths were self-defense."

"You would," the pegasus says again, looking at the empty plate in front of her and moving it back and forth. "You'd like to... How about... Oh. Forget it. It's silly."

"What did you want to ask?"

"No. Nothing. Just... stupid and naive thoughts come to mind."

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me?"

The pegasus' multicolored eyes stare at me. Her lips are tightly pressed together. It's like she wants to say something to me or ask me something, but she resists. She resists hard. She shakes her head and sighs deeply.

Just before that, I thought she looked like she was ready to cry.

What is it that is bothering her right now?

"Yes," she replies. "I don't want to."

I sigh deeply, covering my eyes.

I think she's told me all the worst things about herself. What else could be worse than what she did? What is she so ashamed of?

"Tell me about your Brisa, if you're.... Don't mind. And if you feel comfortable."

If it weren't for Lilac I'd hardly be comfortable talking about her, now I can. No problem. I appreciate all the time I spent with my first love, because not many meet it, and not everyone realizes how wonderful it is. It may not have lasted long, but it was in my life.

A good moment to turn the subject to something pleasant.

"We've known each other since we were young, which is generally natural considering there aren't many kids of the same age in a single Stable. She went to my father for medical training. Smart and resourceful. Seeking knowledge, looking for ways to use it to benefit others. Interested in all areas of science, at least superficially, so she had a passion for books. Programming, medicine, chemistry, energy... We both wanted to explore, and that's what we had in common. Analyzing everything around us. She was more into the purpose of the research and I was more into the process."

"What happened when she ended up in the Wasteland?"

"She learned to be pretty good with energy-magic weapons and discovered she knew a little about explosives. But she's a long way from you in that."

We laugh.

"She's a very fast learner," I continue, "and I've tried to keep up with her in that regard. I'm actually surprised she fell in love with a careless fool like me."

"And it's no surprise to me," the pegasus says. She lowers her eyes to her hooves tapping against each other in embarrassment.

How. That. Sweet. Both the words and her embarrassment...

I smile at her appreciatively, which makes her embarrassed even more.

"She didn't know how to have as much fun as I did," I continue. "I had to teach her how to relax. At one time she helped me through the death of my father, my best friend Dogmeat—my pet. There was no one in my life more dear to me than her. I am blessed that she chose and loved me as much as I loved her. I am proud of her and infinitely happy that I had her. The only unpleasant emotion associated with her is hate. Self-hatred for taking her life."

"I understand you... I understand you very well."

I want to hug her. Hard. Here and now. But I can't. For some reason, another part of me won't let me get close to her.

"Thank you," I say. "And what will you tell me about Light? What was he like?"

"A calm and quiet pony," she sighs with a smile. "I met him when he was enlisted in my squad, which I barely had time to command for two years. Light's solitude was reflected in his specialization—he was a sniper. Always obeying orders, he was loyal to the ideals of those we served, assuming that they were truly doing a good deed and that they would one day help the surface inhabitants. I did not share his naive beliefs, and he knew it."

"Was that one of the reasons for your arguments?"

"We tried not to broach the subject, but... It didn't work. On the other hand, his attempts to understand others, to show them the best of the organization..."

"Is that why he tried to get you to come back? To commute your sentence?"

"Yes... He would rather have me alive and in custody than killed or on the run all the time. He could have visited me in prison. But I didn't want to go there. I just didn't want to."

"Was your relationship long?"

"They were a year old at the time of his death. I just wanted us to have a quiet life together... Enjoy each other every day. At times I wondered what was more important to him: me or... you know who."

The Enclave.

"I've been hesitant to ask that question. I think he held on to his ideas to the end. Otherwise he didn't try to bring me back by force."

"Perhaps he just couldn't accept the fact that you would be on the run. Those he serves would want you dead—he couldn't accept that. Apparently he preferred to either bring you back by force or die. His ideals may have been more important than anything else, but it seems you were more important than his own life."

Motley's wide-open eyes fill with tears. She covers her eyes with a hoof and wipes away the tears.

"Maybe," she looks down. "I don't know... I never thought of it that way. Thank you."

I hold out my hoof to hers. She looks up at me, and I smile weakly.

"What did he love about you?" I ask. "Obviously his feelings for you were strong. I'm curious to know what else he saw as beautiful about you."

"More? What do you already see in me like that?"

I feel uneasy. Internally conflicted, wanting to admit to her that I find her attractive, but at the same time feeling wrong for getting so attached to this pony. Even more than Lemon and Bluerise combined.

"Well... I like... the way you move."

The beige pegasus giggles, adjusting her blue dress with white patterns.

"I noticed that. He liked that too. Well, and other things, too. He... We..."

The pegasus falls silent, crimson with embarrassment. I suspect she's referring to some sex-related stuff. Some... perverted things, in her opinion.

Well, I've been to New Reno and New Vegas, I've seen all kinds of kinky things. I've got a wet-body fetish myself. I'm even curious what kind of kink she's got.

"Will you dance with me?" the pegasus asks excitedly.

Blood pounding in her ears and her face seems to flare up.

"Uh, what?" I mumble in confusion.

Fuck no! Why all of a sudden did she ask me to dance?

"A dance. I haven't relaxed like this in a very long time. So do you want to... see up close how I move? T-touch me when we.... Oh. Why does that sound so awful coming out of my mouth?"

It sounds too exciting and attractive to me.

"Why now?" is all I can say.

The hormonal storm is rising. The internal conflict is brewing again. I need to get this issue with Motley resolved soon or I'll go crazy from bifurcating my views on the same issue.

I can feel my heart pounding.

"The music is appropriate: very beautiful and pleasant, a bit of a turn-on. I want to give myself into its embrace, I can't hold back. But alone..." she thinks for a moment, "...not fun."

As we talked, I stopped noticing the music in the background, which by now had changed to something more dynamic—but not enough to make me dance like a fool when no one was watching.

"Will you keep me c-company?" she asks quietly, tilting her head sideways. She rubs her hooves worriedly, sometimes tapping them softly and quietly.

It's such an endearing look... Why are you making me suffer! I'm going to scream.

Please, Motley, don't! I can't dance! Not only can't dance, but I don't know how ponies dance. Besides, dancing with Motley, that charming pegasus? The one who makes my hormones fight each other?

And in front of everyone?

Fuck that!

"I can't dance."

Fucking shame, I don't remember ever feeling so embarrassed. Why am I so lucky? Fate is a strange thing. Why do these things happen to me? If someone is controlling my destiny. Hey, you, whoever you are, you heartless and sick bastard, why are you making me suffer like this?

"It's not as hard as it seems. I'll show you," Motley cheers up, deciding she's found the reason for my worry. She lifts her head—her eyes begging for consent. They terrorize me with their cuteness.

Stop... please. Give me peace...

I'm torn between Motley's distress and my humiliation. Perhaps I should get drunk. After all, as they say, it's one drink from insecurity to self-confidence. In my case, it's going to take several—bottles of hard liquor. Or should I? I want to remember my humiliation in vivid detail. Or an amazing moment with a gorgeous pegasus? I have to think optimistically.

Yes... fuck it! I'm gonna jump into this hormonal storm. Let it tear me to shreds!

"Okay, my angel," I exhale. The pegasus' face shines with happiness like a powerful spotlight.

Oh, just don't burn me. I'm already burning up from the growing conflict inside.

We stand up, and the pegasus leads me to where the other ponies are dancing. I feel like a helpless puppet. There's such a storm going on inside me.... Well, at least the eyes won't just be on us. Trying to keep up with the others dancing. Some just stand next to each other and sway their bodies to the music. Others stand on their hind hooves and embrace their partner, supporting each other.

Just like humans.

I inhale and exhale deeply, thinking of peace. How hard it is... I can't say anything, it's like I'm suffocating.

I'm okay... I'm okay! I'm a K! I'm a K? The hell is that mean?

I suddenly find myself standing on my hind legs, my front legs hugging the pegasus, who is also hugging my neck and shyly avoiding my gaze.

She's so close to my face that I can feel her warm breath, gentle and slightly unsteady with thrill. Her body moves on its own. I'm like an observer. The movements are simple. Small steps to one side, then the other....

It's so nice to hold her. To hold her with my hooves. Her white and blue patterned dress makes it hard to feel the touch of her beige fur.

The music gets faster and faster. The pegasus keeps up with her pace, performing more complex movements. And I... play a supporting role and make sure Motley doesn't fall. She wriggles so gracefully in the dance, twisting and bouncing around me. Her eyes are completely closed and she's trusting herself completely to someone who doesn't know anything about dancing at all, but finds it magnificent.

I feel like a pole around which a beautiful dancer is gracefully wriggling. But I'm still a part of it! In this dance, I am her support; I wanted to be her in life too. Not to let go.

Her movements are smooth and graceful. You want to watch them and not lose sight of all this beauty and splendor. Hell, I'm afraid to blink! Or is this body afraid? I don't understand.

Emotions take over me so much that I often forget about the others. In front of me I see only a beige lovely creature in a blue dress who twirls and bends in a flurry of emotion; the hem of her garment flutters to the sides as she moves, sometimes forming a mesmerizing spinning disk. The dance consumes her, making her forget everything around her. All she knows is that I'm there for her.

It's so beautiful that I'm lost in time. I don't want this exciting dance to end.

Or, alternatively, I wish it would end sooner. My second part is strenuously resisting intimacy.

The wonderful moment ends abruptly. I stand on my hind legs and lean, my front legs trying to hold onto the sweet pony's back. She looks up at me and breathes heavily, but I can tell from her slight smile that she's enjoying herself.

Suddenly everything inside me goes quiet. For a moment, I think I've lost my hearing and perception of time. I feel only lightness and... bliss. Has the conflict within me ceased so easily? Why am I attracted to Motley but not repulsed as I was the last time? Have my prayers been answered? Whoever you are, creator of my destiny, I forgive you, you have not failed this time...

I hear the sound of hoof stomping. I look around—everyone's attention is on us, and the ponies have parted to make room for us. And almost all of them are smiling and tapping their front hooves on the floor.

Are they applauding us?

Everyone was watching us dance. No shame, no hesitation. The lightness... or is it just a withdrawal or bounce back from the effects of the hormonal storm?

"Looks like," Motley says quietly, looking around, "we interrupted their fun."

"They were enjoying a great show performed by the beautiful dancer Motley and her pole-partner Daniel," I giggle like I'm drunk.

An extraordinary emotional lightness; it's like a part of me has gone somewhere. What happened?

We leave the dance floor, which is once again filled with ponies, and walk back to our table. My gait is wobbly, as if I'm about to topple over and fall. Motley sits down and immediately pours himself a glass of wine, draining it halfway. I stare at it in surprise, but then smile sympathetically. She must be tired, poor thing. Or maybe she's overwhelmed.

"Did you like it?" the pegasus asks timidly.

"Ha," comes from me through my heavy breathing. "You were just great," I smile, waving my hoof tiredly. "I'm sure everyone loved it. See the way I'm breathing—it made me hot: that's how delightful you were."

"Thank you," the flushed pegasus says quietly. "I was very worried."

"I can see that. What else are you hiding from me, dancing angel?" I ask playfully. We pour more wine. "Such talent!"

"I was... meant to say that you," she blushes even more, then shakes her head. "I mean, I was going to say that I also know how to play card games. Well... well, yeah."

I felt my jaw drop onto the table. I realize that mares are supposed to have a twist, but.... Holy shit! Can fight, can dance, knows explosives, plays cards...

Of course she does! She's from Las—or New—Pegasus, the city of entertainment and casinos. No wonder she knows her cards. I think I figured out how we're gonna spend the rest of the evening.

I've been to every casino in New Vegas, and sooner or later I've made a huge score and been kicked out of the place and never allowed to play there again. Boy, I did raise money then... I didn't even have to do any dirty work.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" I chuckle, taking a sip of wine. "Let's go to the casino and 'rob' him."

"Well... that was a long time ago, when I was still at the academy."

"I'll teach you how to play all kinds of card games. I'll show you all sorts of tricks I know. Caps will never be out of place."

"And what makes you so sure you won't go broke?" the pegasus inquires.

"Hehe," I smile mischievously. "No matter how many losses there were, the number of wins was greater. In the long run, I've always been on the plus side. Now it's my turn to ask you: will you keep me company? "I wink.

"Gladly!" she smiles.

I wonder where my rejection of relationships with anyone in this world has disappeared to. I look at Motley now and the only thing I want to do is get to know her, to snuggle up to her body. I want to fuck her.

The only doubt is whether I can make it work with her. I want to try, because I care about this beige pegasus. There's too much about her that I like at the moment. And turns me on.

I have to choose the right moment to tell her how I feel, but I don't think she's quite figured it out herself. Well, I won't rush her, and at the same time I'll weigh my decision: I don't want to get her hopes up. Even if it doesn't work out when she finds out about my true identity—which would certainly be a shame—I'll still give it a try. There's... a bit of a gamble.

I pay the bill, and we go for a walk through the streets of Vanhoover until we find one casino. The pleasant time with Motley, which I don't regret at all, has made me forget what I'm walking the streets of Vanhoover for. The reputation I need to be heard, to have my words respected and to consider the fact that the elimination of the raider leader in the Crater was not without my direct involvement. Being known as the most successful player is not a bad thing either—well, I think so.

***

"Why did you go into the service?" I ask.

The first casino trip went more or less well. In this case, we bought expensive food at the casino restaurant.

"For the money," the pegasus replies. "My father... was an explosives expert, one of the best. He himself was not a follower of the ideals of those he served, and that's how I was: dubious and distrustful of my superiors. My mother always said I had more of my father's traits than hers. He was your character, cheerful and lively, only with a special love of explosives. I wondered how he got along with my mother, as she didn't like noise and was quite strict but caring."

"Opposites attract," I smile.

"In this case, I believe so," the pegasus chuckles.

"What was your mother?"

"A nurse. At the main hospital. My little sister took more after my mother in both character and interests. There she studied everything from childhood. Spent most of her time there as she grew older. Mother was, uh. I wouldn't say strict, but she was hard to entertain. She tried to be practical. What she loved most about her father was his fortitude. That he could put up with her. Personally, I couldn't love a pony who acts like my mother," Motley chuckles. "I hope she's okay."

"Who did you love more?"

"Well, that's not a fair question. I'd put it another way. Closer I was to my father than my mother. My sister is the opposite—closer to my mother. My sister I loved as much as my father. I watched her grow up. I raised her, fed her—she grew up on my hooves."

No wonder why she was so eager to avenge her.

"Why did your father, so different from your mother, love her?"

"I've asked that many times. The answer has usually been that she is the only one who tolerates him, and who knows how to delicately pacify his cheerful nature. They both said they were—how to put it more simply—balancing each other out. Mom lacked Dad's cheerfulness, and Dad lacked Mom's calmness. Yeah, I know. That combination of characters is extremely rare."

"What was there to appease in your father?"

"Dad, as he joked, liked to solve problems with explosives, making them disappear. He also used to say that art was a moment of pure beauty found in an explosion. His passion for them was partly passed on to me. I loved it when he would set off fireworks and put on shows for me, his little girl, away from residential and military areas."

Dad loved to blow things up... a moment of pure beauty... what? Motley likes explosions, especially if they are colorful and extravagant. I can imagine a situation where you have a pony like that as a wife. The slightest thing wrong and you're blown up with beauty and pageantry and off to somewhere far, far away...

"Did you spend much time together?" I ask.

"Yes. He taught me a lot of things about bomb-making. But I like dancing better."

"That's not surprising. You dance incredibly beautifully. It's a pleasure to be around at that moment."

Just a pleasure... Now that's certainly an understatement.

Motley smiles shyly.

"I loved dancing passionately and still do. When you move to the rhythm, you feel an extraordinary freedom, lightness and ease. These emotions so overwhelm me that I am lost in the embrace of pleasure and ecstasy. I loved to move. Hmm... If you want to live, know how to spin," the pegasus smiles. "I even went to a special dance school before I even had a cutie mark."

"In what way did you want to realize your movement energy? Not for martial arts, I assume?"

Motley laughs again. She's been noticeably doing that a lot lately. And I'm glad to see it. I also like watching her feel good. The way she laughs.

"No. Martial arts came later. I... wanted to start my own dance school. To try something new and energetic, to teach others. Help them reach their potential, give them the support they need to develop. Not to let them give up after making mistakes."

"So how did you end up in the service?"

"When my father died, I realized it was impossible to open a dance school with the funds available. My mother's salary was clearly not enough for me and my sister. So I had to go to the academy. They give free tuition to relatives of the dead, like... a replacement. I adapted my dancing ability for close combat and stealth, and the skills I learned from my father allowed me to develop my ability with explosives. I joined the service not so much for the money, but for my dream. What's your dream, Danny? Why are you looking for... something that will allow you to teleport long distances? Are you interested in the Dome just for that?"

I just want to go home. But it doesn't bother me so much now. Before last night's dance, I cared more.

"This doesn't have a clearly defined purpose. I've gotten used to hanging around the neighborhood and exploring dangerous places in my life. The knowledge or technology discovered will help those around me. I want to make life easier somehow, both my own and others'. Sometimes it's not just me who gets hurt... and I have to struggle between the desire to help and the fear of responsibility."

"Some don't do anything about it at all. You're not afraid to take responsibility. And... Honestly... I admire that."

I feel even more awkward than I did when she suggested we dance. Back then, I was losing control because of the confrontation, but now... I... I don't know how to react to this. I'm just lost.

"Thank you," I say.

Motley smiles slightly. Apparently notices some emotion on my face.

"You're doing a wonderful job in that regard. Under your leadership, we've survived the Crater, the Northern Soul, survived North Park and Nara's Stable without impact..."

"Well, that's... thanks to you... I mean... all of you. Everyone who helped."

"But you were the one in charge. And expertly."

Okay, I'm on fire. I don't deserve the praise. If she knew how many people died in the Divide. How many lives I've taken just delivering a fucking package.

I need to change the subject.

"How did you manage to become a small squad leader if you wanted to dance? It's not like you had any desire to serve the likes of them."

"Well... I had a good friend at the academy. I don't remember if I mentioned her. She's the one who helped me with my studies. I doubt I would have even been able to join the service without her. She was a great student. Studied just about everything just to be sure of herself. A bit of a control freak. Not much of a sense of humor. She, uh... had her own issues and problems from her past, but she's learned to deal with them with knowledge."

"You didn't see her after the academy?"

"Toward the end of our studies, we had our disagreements. We fought more and more often, and decided it was better to be apart for now. But I still wanted to see what she had accomplished. We've spent a lot of time together, know each other well."

"It seems to me," I smile meaningfully, "that you were more than just friends with her."

"Well... Yeah..." The pegasus's cheeks pinken, and she rubs her scruff with her hoof in embarrassment. "We were very close."

"Oh-ho-ho!" I chuckle. "You can tell me that was your first time." The pegasus is silent, pressing her lips together.

Though that shouldn't seem surprising: the female members are noticeably more common here.

"Yes..." Motley continues awkwardly, holding her hoof by the scruff of her neck. "I, like many mares, love both. And so did she. We were close. Thought we would be together, even made plans for the future. However, as I said earlier, we had our disputes. And you... as far as I know, bisexual stallions are extremely rare. But still, I'll ask you this: didn't you have a simple curiosity?"

My friends in the Vault 101 class liked to tease Butch and me about it. I often had arguments and difficult moments with him, which I deftly and eloquently avoided. Friends joked that the reason was something else. This intensified when Butch became a stylist as he liked to say. I did consider it, but it never came to fruition. Imagining myself in the arms of a man was strange and incomprehensible. So such sudden thoughts disappeared as instantly as they appeared.

"No," I answer thoughtfully. "Nothing like that ever happened."

***

20th of the Month of Heather, Blueday. Fifty-eighth day of my stay.

Since the day before yesterday we have sat in several casinos until we were pushed out of there because of frequent winnings. Motley knows a lot of interesting tricks. We've developed an effective modus operandi. We managed to scratch together, uh... 30 grand of caps. We even got robbed a couple times, but Motley gave the thieves a hard time. Damn, it's weird being protected by such a delightful guardian angel.

All in all, I enjoy spending time with Motley. We tell each other various and insignificant everyday stories from our past—of course, my stories are veiled, I hardly mention names—joking and having fun. Or we just chat about what we've seen.

At some point I realize that there is a place called the Paradise Pleasure nearby. In other words, the porn studio that everyone knows about. Motley naturally shyly declines the offer to visit the place, and it's indescribable. I, however, reply that she can stay here if she wants and I will go there alone. I end up going, however the pegasus catches up with me after a few minutes and silently follows me.

It's interesting to see the assortment of things ponies usually have fun with in bed.

In a spacious room with an expensive interior with harmonious red and maroon colors, I can go to different departments. From here I can get to the porn studio and casting department, a store of adult toys and all sorts of magazines and movies with lewd content, as well as a place where memory orbs and memories with the same content are sold. It looks like there was a porn studio here before the war.

This world never ceases to amaze me: ponies are just as much lovers of forbidden fruit as humans, but not as bashful, thanks to the fact that ponies often go without clothes. At the same time, ponies' physique mostly hides their genitals, which aren't as visible before arousal.

Funny: with such views on the subject of sex and erotics, Motley behaves needlessly shy.

I look at the toys and gadgets. Shelves and racks full of merchandise, a dozen customers around. And, frankly speaking, I have never seen such a variety of assortment. Dildos of various colors, shapes and sizes, with some additional functions, like vibration, and some can even hold liquid. Specifically for stallions, there are some hollow cylinders too. Turns out they simulate a mare's genitals to some extent... and more. That last one wasn't in my world.

Devices for flogging, tying and other set-up structures for entrapment, provocative clothes, costumes and separate accessories, including latex ones, as well as quite a few things that you can stick anywhere and get pleasure from it. Well and standard lubes and other consumable goods, created already after the war. The popularity of this place justifies itself, since the production of all these things is still established. Of course, the prices are high too.

What impresses me the most is the list in the form of a small book. It's a list of magical spells that can be adapted for pleasuring—and some are just for that purpose. And copies of the books of these spells can be purchased here. This list... there's so much on it, my jaw nearly dropped and hit the floor.

"Found something interesting?" Motley standing next to me asks uncertainly as I stare at the spell list.

"Yeah... just... I haven't seen anything like this before," I utter with effort. At that moment, a bronze-colored unicorn walks up. She wants to look at the list, but Motley and I block her.

"Are you guys going to be thinking about it much longer?" she asks.

"Huh? No... We were just leaving," I say and head towards the store exit.

Okay, not to forget, this is a world of magic. And ponies didn't have such a strict prohibition or moral judgment on something like this. So it was expected. I mean, I know that digital copies of spell books are also available at the university library, but I didn't have time to check them out. I wouldn't have enough caps on them. The spells here are also not cheap. I don't have time to study them, though, because the head scribe of the Steel Rangers has already handed me a digital version of a book with a set of spells on magical repair. It's complex and voluminous, so I don't have time for those lewd spells just yet.

"Oh," the pegasus responds. "I envy unicorns in that regard. Their horn can do so much. Such possibilities."

I only turn my head and look at Motley. My gaze makes her look awkward and she looks away.

I'm less and less eager to leave this world with such possibilities! Magic really does make life easier here, but it also brings physical pleasure and enjoyment.

Okay... The only thing left to see is the section where they sell memory orbs.

We get into a rather large hall, with long display cases stretching along the walls, proudly displaying orbs of memories inside. And there are quite a few visitors here, at least two dozen; they stand at the showcases and look at some magazines. There are mares and stallions, as well as griffon species.

I was already thinking about which memory to take. As I am thinking about it, I involuntarily look at the visitors: my gaze catches on a griffon. And then I realize which memory I'm going to choose.

One of the cash registers becomes vacant, and I walk over to it. Motley still feels awkward, but stands next to me. I strike up a conversation with the clerk, a makeup-clad unicorn with a fur of soft orange.

"I'm listening to you," she smiles welcomingly.

"This is my first time here. Can you advise me on anything? What kind of memory can you suggest for me?"

"To any taste, dear master. Memories of a mare during a delightful lovemaking with a stallion and vice versa, same-sex love of mares, stallions and griffins, mixed love of griffins and ponies, griffins only, 'group sex', hard or gentle banging... The magazines have pictures of the memory hosts and who they are paired with. Their number is listed there as well, you tell me which one your essence desires and we'll record it."

"Record it?"

"If, of course, you have a memory orb... Right, this is your first time here. We record about a thousand memories here each year, but memory orbs are few and far between, and they are expensive to create, and are made as a last resort. They require a certain kind of gemstones to create, which are difficult to grow. And that's just one of the problems in making them. So we simply replace the memory already in the memory orb with another. It's easier, isn't it?"

It turns out they're using memory orbs left over from before the war, erasing the world recorded in them, the world that was before this brutal time, for these lewd stuff.

"Where do you keep so many memories?" I ask.

Indeed, a thousand is quite a lot.

"Why store them somewhere? They remain in the memory of our employees while they are still alive, but you know that after a couple of years, new ones appear, and no one is interested in these anymore. Only the most popular ones are recorded in memory orbs, which are displayed in these cabinets. From those orbs, our staff 'copies' them into others. That's it."

"And how much do the memory orbs cost here?"

"Two thousand caps each. The cost of a memory is separate, it ranges from one hundred to five hundred caps."

Wow. Not cheap. But still, everyone wants to feel those sweet memories. The cost of memories is about the same as paying for prostitutes, only you pay for them once, while the memory orb can be used countless times until you get bored.

"So if I had a memory orb, I'd only pay for the memory itself?"

I'm not going to erase the memories related to Eric, of course. Just in case they still come in handy.

"Yes. We'd just erase what you already have and replace it with what you want."

"Won't I be fooled? Won't there be some cheap stuff?"

"Don't make me laugh," the salesgirl chuckles. "If we did that, this place wouldn't be so popular. Rumors would ruin everything. We have an ironclad reputation!"

"Okay. Then I'll take both the memory orb and the memory."

"Which one?" the mare clarifies.

"Well... Let's go with the unicorn memory with the griffon and pegasus. Got one of those?"

I furtively glance at Motley. To say she looks surprised is to say nothing. Her jaw just drops. Why? She hinted to me about the unicorn possibilities, and I hinted to her how interested I am in pegasi.

"There is one just like it," the salesgirl informs after a brief pause, peering at the list of memories lying on the counter. "Even though only one memory has that combination, it's the one most often taken here..." the unicorn looks at Motley standing next to me.

"A friend," I explain easily. "Don't ask me any more. I just like to tease her like in that way."

"You two don't look bad together at all. So why do you, my dear, need a memory with a pegasus? Do you want to prepare?"

"Oh, it's just that pegasi interest me. I envy them," I say slowly and clearly, watching Motley out of the corner of my eye. Her face is burning with embarrassment. "Wings... They have such possibilities, don't they?"

"If your friend is also interested in lewd memories," the orange-colored unicorn says, "we have special recollectors for non-unicorns. More expensive than memory orbs by half, of course, but..."

"No, no, I don't need one," Motley says quickly. The unicorn lets out a slight chuckle, then leans toward me and whispers loudly for Motley to hear, "Don't miss out on this cutie. I like pegasi myself, so don't just let this bird go."

"I'll keep that in mind," I smile.

I get the memory orb, paying two thousand four hundred caps for it and the memory, and we leave the Paradise Pleasure. Motley is afraid to look me in the eye.

***

After wandering around for a while, we come across another casino.

I'll use the caps I earned from gambling to renovate Heavenly Harbor. I need to buy soft and cozy furniture for this underground mansion. I remember the gorgeous velvet furniture from the Luxury Hotel I visited with Flow. I want one just like it for myself.

"So," I turn to Motley. "Shall we?" I nod my head and point to the sign of another 'victim'.

"The Glass Key?" she utters, looking at the sign with the image of a tilted key on it.

"Yep. It looks cheap, pretty nice to look at, and it's spacious. I think you can even get a room there. And you could make a pretty decent profit!"

"Well, let's see what it's like," the pegasus says without much enthusiasm, stepping inside.

I follow her in.

We win about thirteen grand here before we're banned from playing. It's not the number of caps that surprises me, it's just fine, but for this casino... There are very few visitors, and many of the gaming tables and machines are empty. Service staff is also few. Yes, and the renovation of the premises would not hurt. By the way, some of them were boarded up on inspection. It is strange that we were allowed to win so many chips.

The whole interior of the casino is in beige colors with a small amount of gray. Everywhere I look there is a symbol of the casino: a glass key. At the sight of nothing remarkable: on the 'beard' rectangular jagged, and the head of the key is a heart-shaped pattern with a missing inner part.

Each Vanhoover casino has its own symbolism, which is depicted everywhere: playing cards, tables, machines ... The Glass Key is no exception. Despite its slightly abandoned appearance, it caught my eye. Maybe because keys are usually associated with locks, which I love to pick by snapping them like peanuts. I wish I had a key that could open all the locks... No, that's not even interesting. I like the process more than the result.

We go to the cash register to exchange chips. The cashier's eyes bulge at the number of chips in front of her and she shakes her head.

"Unfortunately, we don't have enough caps to exchange that many," she says guiltily. I exchange glances with Motley.

"I don't get it?" I'm perplexed. "How in the world were we allowed to win an amount of money that you are unable to pay?"

"Let me take you to the owner and he'll explain it all to you."

I have a very bad feeling.

Together with the cashier we enter the owner's office. The room is medium sized but modest, nothing particularly fancy or expensive. For a casino, it's pretty poor and dreary.

"Mr. Goldberg, we have an unfortunate situation," the cashier informs an elderly pony sitting in a chair behind the desk. He is light yellow in color, his face expressing fatigue and boredom.

"So what is it again, Trippledust?" he asks, looking up at us lazily.

"These ponies have won a significant amount of chips here. We don't have enough to exchange them for money."

"And how many?"

"A little over thirteen thousand."

"What a curse! I told you not to let visitors win that much," the owner sighs heavily, "okay. Go back to work. I'll take care of it."

"Okay," she withdraws, closing the doors behind her.

"Well, tell me about it," Goldberg looks at us curiously.

"We want our caps."

"I understand. Shit... It's such a sum. We haven't had a visitor in years who could win that much from us. I guess the dealer got a little carried away with the game and wanted to get even, but it didn't work out. Or maybe he was being blackmailed by someone to force us into bankruptcy. Don't worry, I know it wasn't you."

"Is that why your casino from the inside looks somewhat... abandoned?" I casually glance around the office.

"Families!" the elderly pony shrieks angrily. "Bloody hell with them! I've spent my whole life trying to resist their influence, but the Softhooves are the most stubborn of them all, always putting sticks in my wheels. Bitches. A couple days ago, my assistant was found dead in a dumpster. I'm sure the Softhooves cunts set it all up. We've had a lot of thefts before, large quantities of fake chips. They intimidated my employees to ruin me by forcing me to sell the casino for a pittance! Since I'm a stallion, they decided to act in the most drastic way possible against my casino."

"You're apparently just as stubborn yourself," I say.

"That's for sure! But... fuck, I'm just exhausted. So many years of hard work... I'd rather die than sell my casino to any of the fucking families! Listen, are you members of the family?"

"No."

"Good. Why don't you buy it back from me? You don't look too poor."

"Why would I want it? The place is practically abandoned, what good is it?"

"I'd rebuild the place and hire better staff, but I just don't have the money to do it all. You see, even in my office, there's nothing more valuable than this wooden table I'm sitting at. And if the casino owner changes, I'm sure they'll put their operations on hold for a while to find out what kind of bird you are. I'm just tired already, and in this business you have to get off the stage on time. I doubt there will be any who want to compete with the Families, especially the jackals from the Softhooves. You could fix things up here, if you have the means, and then resell it at a bargain price, or keep it and gradually make a profit from it. What do you say?"

I look at Motley. She shrugs.

Prince was telling me that I need to get closer to the citizens of the city in some way. With the city itself. And the best way to do that is through doing business. Sooner or later there will be connections. Then I'll be even better recognized, see what I'm capable of, and believe that I'm the one who infiltrated the Crater and the Northern Soul."

"Okay. I'll give it a try."

"Wonderful!" the pony glows with joy.

I feel like I'm being played. I'm gonna have a lot of problems with this casino. But I don't have any money, so why not give it a try?

"Can I get a deal for fifteen thousand?" he asks.

"Thirteen. That's what your casino should have paid me.... not me to you."

"Okay, thirteen grand and the casino is yours. Softhooves would never have offered more money anyway, quite the opposite: noticeably less."

"Wait, where do I start my restoration?"

"For starters, find yourself a good trusted assistant. They usually handles the most trivial routine in such matters and will fulfill your every whim, if you have enough caps, per se."

I am quickly served with all the necessary papers connected with the ownership of the property. We then visit the real estate office to officially confirm my ownership of the casino. Thanks again to Flint for the passport. I wonder if he's forgotten that I want to be a King. His girlfriend promised to remind him about me.

After finishing the paperwork, Goldberg takes his caps and disappears. The casino also has an owner's suite. I now have my own apartment in this city, officially, where Prince or whoever else can find me if necessary. For example, by sending a letter.

I need to find a steward, so I'd better start my search with the connections I have in this city, namely Bluerise. Hopefully, she's done some sniffing around here quickly enough to point me to a trusted and responsible pony for such an important and difficult job, since I'll often be hanging around the Wasteland and have no desire to do something like that.

***

"What do you want?" Bluerise jokingly turns to us. "Any choice you need. I have a bit of this, a bit of that... How are you spending your time?" the purple unicorn of unprecedented beauty asks, standing behind the counter of her store and smiling slyly.

She doesn't have many customers by evening, I realize. I have looked at her store's assortment and I can tell that it has been noticeably upgraded since the last time I visited. A variety of things have appeared, from metal spoons and forks to inexpensive guns and ammunition.

"Just wonderful," I reply. "Walking around the establishments in town and having fun. Lately we've been earning caps at the casinos."

"Earning caps?" the pony tilts his head to her shoulder in puzzlement.

"Sort of. Playing card games, thus 'robbing' the casino," I smile. "I get lucky a lot.. Like my guardian angel," I nod my head at the pegasus behind me. The unicorn giggles cutely, and a heavy sigh of despair echoes behind me. "I'm here for what... The fact is that I, with all the privileges and responsibilities, have been deeded the casino property."

"What?" the pony gasps. "How...? Do you remember how much it cost me to open this store?" she absent-mindedly swipes her hoof around. "And you have an entire casino..."

"This casino is having financial problems, hence why they couldn't give away my winnings in full. Ended up paying about ten thousand more caps..."

"Damn you, Daniel! Where do you get that kind of money that you're throwing around left and right? I'm jealous."

"I told you, I've never had a problem with caps. What am I talking about? Right. So, the gambling establishment called 'The Glass Key' was in a very poor state: few employees, who were still threatened and even killed at times, many rooms closed and in need of restoration. Lack of proper security measures, as well as guards... In short, a lot of things need to be done, and therefore invest a lot of caps, so that the casino began to bring a good profit. Then I'll probably sell it."

"Let me guess: Softhooves is putting sticks in the wheels?" the pony suggests.

"How did you know?" I wonder.

"I've spent enough time in this place, and I know that the Softhooves are the richest and most numerous businessponies in town. The fashion, the prestige... wealth... And I'm aware of their attitude towards stallions."

"That's right. So, to fix all of the above, I need two things: caps and a trustworthy assistant who understands the local laws and knows how to run a business, in other words, a 'right hoof'. You've been here quite a bit, so I thought you might be able to..."

"...find someone to do all the routine stuff?" Bluerise finishes the sentence for me.

"Running ahead of the engine, no wonder why you're so successful at what you do," I smile softly.

"Yep! Now back to our brahmins. I know a pony around here and I can vouch for him like he's my life."

"Wow."

"What?"

"I didn't expect you to trust anyone around here that much."

"Honestly, he's the reason I've been able to make reliable contacts here and get my hooves on information on how to do business in this town and still stay alive."

"He?"

"His name is Bland. I met him in a bar. The same evening that I managed to set up a business here with your help, which, by the way, is already doing quite well, I went out on a survey. I wanted to find out how things were going here in the city and so on. So, after a while in that bar, one of the customers started harassing me. He was pretty drunk. Bland was there, too, and he was pretty drunk—he was the one who stood up for me."

"How romantic," I say, unable to help myself.

"There was a fight," Bluerise continues, as if she hadn't heard me say it, "but eventually the guard got them to calm down before they hurt each other. After that, I helped Bland to come to his senses. He sobered up a bit, and we had a conversation in which he told me how he'd been unfairly kicked out of his job, and that he had basically nothing of material possessions now, since he'd spent it all on payoffs," the pony said sympathetically. "I felt sorry for him, so I decided to help him with his job. I help him with small things, and in return he shares information about dangers, and how to avoid them. Told me about this town's reliable contacts, and how to convince Families to agree to deals. By the way, he knew many ponies in this town, but naturally, without the caps, none of them would help him. Thanks to him, I was able to get my business up and running. He still does minor work now, and I wish I could give him a better job."

"You mean..."

Bluerise nods without delay.

"He worked at a major casino called the Crystal Lotus, he was a financial employee there and held a high position, but he was just screwed because he's a stallion."

"So he worked at a casino owned by Softhooves?"

"They only kept him alive because of his contacts. It cost him dearly and he was left with no caps. He was very adept at managing the budget thanks to his knowledge and connections. Still, if you don't have sympathetic friends and money, no one will hire you for a new job. Will you help Bland by taking him on as your assistant? I already helped a certain Flyrose recently..."

Oh, the same pony from the North Park Bank who caught the attention of the yao guai and backed herself into a corner.

"I'm sure," the purple unicorn with the pink mane continues her speech, "he'll be genuinely happy to be doing something weighty rather than just being a one mare's errand boy."

"I decided to take him in back when you first recommended him," I smile.

"Oh, Danny, thank you!" The unicorn suddenly encloses me in a hug. "You're the best."

A little later that afternoon, Bluerise introduces us to Bland.

A light lilac-colored unicorn in his late thirties with a disheveled cold purple mane. He smiles warmly when he sees our unicorn, but grows serious at the sight of Motley and me.

Bland is a pleasant conversationalist, moderately polite to strangers. He has an unusual soft voice: in a noisy crowd, if he shouted out, I could find him without much effort. After getting to know him, I bluntly offer him the job. He glances discreetly at the unicorn, who nods affirmatively, adding that it was me she'd told him about. His expression softens. Apparently, Bluerise had said a lot of things to him.

Eventually, the light lilac unicorn accepts the job, adding that Bluerise's friends are his friends, too. I note to myself that Bland occasionally glances at the unicorn and tried to be closer to her. He informs me that it will be a joy for him to work in such a high position and that he will do whatever it takes to make the casino a success.

We leave Bluerise and head towards the casino. I inform Bland of the state of affairs at the Glass Key—he informs me that he'll have to look around first.

After finding out the necessary information and seeing the establishment for himself, Bland informs me that it is very difficult, in fact impossible, to restore anything from the profits generated by the casino. Without additional funds and investments, including advertising costs, there is no way around it.

Having resolved a few office formalities, he gets to work, gaining access to my bank account. He assures me that he will carefully allocate my caps for the prosperity of the casino and to increase profits. The amount I have will be just enough to make this place prestigious: slowly but surely it can be achieved.

I can tell by the way Bland has taken to his work that he is a really responsible and reliable pony. It seems to me that he's more interested in meeting the expectations of Bluerise than mine. He seems interested in her, but he's trying not to show it.

It's about the Softhooves, and Bland openly expresses his dislike of that nasty, pompous family. I mention to him that I've already met the guy they've framed. I briefly tell him about the kidnapping and my acquaintance with the Heart twins. He's interested in their abilities, since they showed their skill at getting into hard-to-reach places when they helped me with Blaze's release. He decides that he could use their services if someone starts messing with us by dirty methods.

Bland informs me that I should forgo the profits for now and put everything into rebuilding the casino. I agree. I'll have to wait at least a couple more months before I can make a good profit, unless we get a mountain of caps to spend on renovations and attracting customers.

Stable 66... The Mysterious Stable. Exploring this place promises a reward of one hundred thousand caps from Prince himself—not necessarily in the form of caps, but perhaps gems or rare resources. No, going to that Stable is suicide. No one has returned yet, not even a huge squad of Steel Rangers. Though curiosity has a way of getting me there. But we need to get back to business at hand.

Now we're talking about how some ponies who don't have acquaintances and contacts are having a hard time finding work in this city. So we decide not to alienate them nor not to hire them. In fact, Bland is the one who suggests this, as during his time of poverty he has met quite a few good Vanhoover residents who are in dire need of reliable employment. And we are in a position to help them. He says he will be careful in this matter to reduce the risk of 'rotten apples' coming to us. I have no problem agreeing to the offer, and I can see in Bland's eyes that he respects me even more. I feel like we'll find common ground in no time.

The hard day of the casino acquisition comes to an end, and we head to the available rooms, of which there are many. Plus, the owner has his own suite. As the current owner of the place, I'm the one checking in. Motley jokes again about how I always get the best seats.

Generally speaking, most of the rooms need to be restored and cleaned, as do other areas of the casino, like the restaurant, bar... One of the larger rooms turned out to be a medium sized room with a stage where they used to put on shows.

Oh... memories. The Ace Theater at the Tops on the New Vegas Strip. For Tony, the theater manager, I was looking for good entertainers to dilute the entertainment. Among those I found were musicians and singers as well as comedians. From the five percent profit on the performances of each, I received a respectable amount of caps.

I think if we reopen this venue and recruit good entertainers to the Glass Key, it will make a good profit and attract visitors. I only know of one possible candidate for performances, but I haven't found a cello for her yet.

That's the way I think about business here...

I'm less and less eager to leave this world. Magic... and now Motley, who comes into my thoughts when I think of reasons to stay. Of course I want to get closer to her. I can't hide it any longer. Now, I've given Motley a lot of hints, and she says nothing about her own feelings for me... What's she so concerned about? What is she nervous about?

It's so easy for me to think about my relationship with her. Until a couple days ago, I was going crazy with internal conflict. I hope it's left me completely and irrevocably, because I couldn't think straight because of it.

What do I do? Continue to keep giving her hints or... Eh, all right. I'll think of a better time later.

***

I'm reading spell books to catch up on sleep, but a knock on the door forces me to turn off the Pip-Boy and check to see who's awake at this late hour.

Has something terrible happened? I doubt it. I shake my head, pushing the bad thoughts out of it, and open the door.

There's a familiar pegasus standing on the doorstep of my room. She's dressed in a beige robe with homemade slits for wings. Looking at me uncertainly.

"Hi," I smile softly. "What are you doing up?"

"Oh, just some thoughts going around in my head and keeping me awake," she replies, looking somewhere behind her. Then she looks at me again. "May I come in?"

"Oh yes, of course, come in," I step aside, allowing the pegasus to pass. "What's troubling you?" I ask, closing the doors behind her.

The beige pony is slow to answer, standing with her back to me while looking at an old, slightly dusty painting of a pre-war landscape. "Nothing too bad or anything like that... It's just," she turns to me. "Can you please sit down?"

"Could I pass out from what you're about to inform me?" I ask playfully.

"Who knows," the interlocutor replies uncertainly, looking around. Her voice trembles slightly.

This alarms me, however I comply with the request and sit down on the couch, looking at her expectantly. She slowly and tentatively moves towards me.

What is it that bothers her so much that she can't sleep and didn't hesitate to come to me in her pajamas.

Wait a minute, is that what I think it is? Did she really want to clarify her behavior?

Motley sits down next to me, and for some reason, without raising her gaze to me, stares at her hooves; her head feels so heavy it can't be lifted by anything.

"Danny," she says without raising her head, "I wanted to say... You remember the first time we met, don't you?"

I fall out of my musings. Even though I've settled the question for myself regarding her, I still feel a thrill.

"I remember... And does it bother you?"

"Back then, everything seemed empty and inconsequential to me. I just wanted to lie down and die. Everyone treated me in a bad way, to put it mildly. Then along came you, the perpetually cheerful, crazy, and unstoppable fool," she turns her head toward me, but her gaze stays somewhere away from mine.

"Totally agree," I smile. She looks into my face for a moment and then lowers her gaze again, occasionally returning it to me.

"I assumed you only had light moments in your life, but then I started to get to know you better. Then you told me about Brisa. I wondered how you managed to stay positive and happy in spite of it. You managed to support others, help others, despite your past. I envied you. You knew I had been asked to keep an eye on you, but you still treated me like it was nothing. Just an ordinary traveling companion who wanted to be in your company. When you smile at me, when you hug me—knowing my dark and horrible deeds—it's like I feel better and... it's so much nicer that someone accepts me with this baggage. You... I just wanted to be close to you to get a little bit of that good feeling. To go back to a time when nothing terrible happened."

I think she practiced that speech—repeatedly.

"Yes, I'm a terrible pony. But you don't treat me accordingly. The whole time we've known each other, I've been comfortable with you and... it feels like more than just comfort. Inside me. there's a very small. silly, naive... hope. But first, can you tell me what you think of me?"

Her speech becomes quite choppy towards the end and subsides. I only now notice that her cheeks are flaming. Should I tell her what I think of her now?

"I think I want you."

Motley smiles shyly, but holds her gaze on me. A return glance. She feels a mutual attraction in return. And it pleases me.

"You're nice to be with. You have dreams, you have a passion for dancing. Your sister was one of your important ponies. And your revenge is understandable. It doesn't make you horrible. We all act irrationally from time to time. You've had too much on your plate already. I doubt anyone could stay calm after that. Oh... come here."

She hesitantly moves closer. I hug her over her shoulder.

"I also like hugging you. I like having you hugging me, too. I feel good with you, as well. I can't help but think about you lately."

The beige pegasus in her robe hugs me back, nestling her cheek against the fur on my chest.

"I'm worried."

"It's okay. There's nothing wrong with that. Sometimes we meet those who make our heart involuntarily beat more often. Especially in battle."

She laughs uncertainly.

"Even if you don't want to be with me, I'll understand. It's just... I don't know how you feel about me. I'd like to hear it from you. Without any hints. I... constantly question everything about me. How others perceive me."

"Clearly, you're sexy."

Motley chuckles faintly.

"Well... I didn't doubt my looks much. I'm doubting that I deserve to be... With good ponies. With you."

Do I deserve you, Motley? You're a good and wonderful pony yourself. If you knew more about the responsibility that rests on my shoulders. What I've done.

"You deserve to be with good ponies exactly as much as you think I deserve..." I reply.

Motley looks at me with her multicolored eyes as she continues to hug me. I look at the blue eye, then the yellow eye. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen in this world. I lean toward her, turning my head to avoid hitting her with my horn. She moves toward me, covering her eyes. I feel her breath, her scent... the faint tang of almonds.

I touch her lips. A light touch. Awkward, restrained, uncertain. I'm overcome with greed. I can't touch her so lightly. I want to touch her tighter!

I press harder with my lips. I feel the shape of her lovely lips better, their intoxicating softness. I don't want to let her go. I don't want this moment to end. Her lips are gorgeous. I can't get enough of them.

Motley breaks the kiss. She takes a breath, looking up at my eyes from below. A languid and eager look.

"I was so waiting for your kiss."

"I only regret not kissing you sooner. Such pleasure."

Her front legs release me. She deftly jumps on top of me, greedily taking in my lips, not letting me get any air. She wraps her legs around my neck and presses me against the back of the couch. My organ below is aroused: a rush of blood flowing underneath. After a few seconds, I can feel her wetness.

I could swear Motley is smiling during the kiss.

She breaks the kiss again. My straining member teases her crotch.

"How it pulses..." he whispers. "I... can't take it any longer."

"Can't stand it?" I quietly interject.

"Say... Do you remember... We practiced together in the bunker until we were interrupted?"

"Yes."

"I went to take a shower then... and..."

Her front legs around my neck tense. Still, she deliberately left the door open.

"Yeah, I saw you."

She returns to my lips—passionate and hot. It's possible to burn, but I'm ready to burn right now. Her lips part once more.

"And... what did you think?"

"I heard you moaning."

"You did? You were there at that moment... You like it wet, don't you?"

Only two knew about it. Bluerise and Lemon. One of them blabbed. Lemon wouldn't have said anything about it, because there would have been questions about how she got those details. But Motley was suspicious of my intimacy with Bluerise. Apparently, she was able to tell her.

She left the door open, knowing my weakness for wet bodies. Motley covers my mouth with her hoof, smiling embarrassedly.

"Yeah... I cheated a little," she adds, moving her pelvis so I can better feel the relief of her wet labia.

I can tell right away: she doesn't go into battle if she doesn't know anything about her opponent. A true scout. Considerate.

"Set a trap for me..." I bite my lips, enjoying her sliding over my hard member.

"And it worked?"

"It worked. But I had to leave quickly... Thought it was a coincidence."

Motley is slightly upset by this fact. Her movements weaken.

"But," I continue. "The arousal left by your wet body wasn't going anywhere."

"So what did you do?" she bites her lip. Her pelvis moves back and forth. She slides against me, her labia wrapped around my cock, moistening it.

I want to use magic and sit her on top of me the right way. To feel her inner warmth.

"I fantasized. About quietly walking up to you and... sliding inside."

"Like this?"

She lifts up, and my cock follows. She catches the head of it with her soft labia and slides down sharply. With a wet sound, it glides to its full length. Her long moan of pleasure reaches my ears, and my own bursts out of my chest.

Author's Note

Sorry for the delay