“Miss Ministry Mare, I think you’ve got your terminology... Mixed up? This is a military operation, the group is called a team, or a unit, or a squad.”

“Nuh-uh, you’re a group of brave companions off on an adventure, so that means...”

“Miss...”

“It’s!”

“Ma’am?”

“A!”

“Ma’am, please,”

“PAAAARRRTY!!!”

“While I appreciate the assistance, why are you following me?”

It seemed a simple question, but immediately Neon Dream’s cocksure attitude evaporated. He turned his head and hid behind the teal mane that tumbled down over his left eye.

“W-when we buried Da-Fallen, I went back to the shack and realised I had nothing there.” He looked back up at me, “mother’s gone, Fallen’s gone.”

I tilted my head, “I’m sorry. About Falling Tactics.”

The pegasus let out a small laugh, “I always knew him as Fallen.” A small smile graced his face as he peeked further out of his mane, “he said that having hit rock bottom, he was done falling.”

I nodded, accepting the change. It seemed fitting. I looked over the young pegasus, I presumed the operator barding was Fallen Tactics’ suit, but there were new holes adapted for Neon’s wings. The battle saddle was a different beast, boasting some kind of heavily modified magical energy rifle. The main body was on his right side with additional focusing equipment at the end of the barrel, and a scope assembly on top. Over on the left side was a bundle of spark batteries sequenced together in a casing of some sort.

Neon Dream noticed me inspecting his weapon and turned to look back at it, sadness in his visible eye.

“It was my mother’s, from her service.” His voice fell to a whisper, “before we were kicked out.”

“Falling,” I paused, “Fallen said the pegasi closed up the sky?”

The bright pegasus nodded, and looked up at the clouds above, “The Enclave are in charge, they say the land down here is too poisonous to survive”

I looked around at the blasted landscape around us, they weren’t exactly wrong. But I figured there was more to it than that, so I looked back at Neon Dream expectantly.

His eye flicked over to me, noticing my expression, “They also say that whoever is left down here is an irradiated monster not worth helping.”

“so you left?”

He nodded, “Mother left, I just wanted to stay with her. Fallen found us when we came down here and helped us, took us in.”

I nodded again, and now he had neither of them. I supposed if he had heard stories of the 900th unit operatives it made sense to want to follow one. I looked over at the steel ranger armour crumpled on the floor, a stream of fine dust pouring from the broken eye lens. The kid had a good aim with that rifle, I had to give him that, though how well that, and his bright colouration, would work alongside my usual stealth tactics I didn’t know.

He was looking at me, something between hope and worry in his shining eye.

You do owe him I guess.

That was Falling... Fallen’s choice.

But we did it. We have to accept the consequences.

I let out a sigh, looking him straight in the eye.

“You can come with me,” I said, his face brightening, “but, I am in charge of the mission. I say hide, you hide, I say run, you run, I say engage, you find a sniping nest. Understand?”

With a sudden burst of movement the pegasus crossed the distance between us and threw his forelegs around my neck, hugging me gratefully. “thank you” he whispered, before breaking off the hug.

As he stepped away I could see a blush on his face. He scuffed a hoof of the ground and mumbled ‘sorry’. I shook my head, “it’s no problem.”

I gave the pair of suits of power armour a look over, seeing what was useful salvage. The armour itself wasn’t going to be an option, you needed training to operate it, and it would be too heavy to lug to any settlement to scrap. I didn’t have the knowledge or time to pull the various useful talismans from its frame either. Ammunition however, that was retrievable and marketable. Both Neon and I poured ammo into our saddlebags, the pegasus having a single bag strapped to the centre of his battle saddle, and we left the armour lying in the dirt as we pressed eastward again.

About an hour passed in silence before Neon Dream spoke up,

“You’ve got a pipbuck, right?” he asked, shying away as I turned my head back to look at him, “I-I was just wondering if... If you could put the radio on?”

I was about to tell him that it would be a beacon of noise drawing any hostiles directly to us, but, honestly, the silence had been getting to me finally. Maybe it was my extended time awake or maybe it was having company but I was starting to yearn for something to disrupt the silence of this dead plain. I sighed, reaching down to the device on my leg, tabbing over to radio and selecting the MASEBS frequency.

We spent the morning walking to songs from Sweetie Bell and the occasional burst of news or advice from the DJ. After the first time he yelled ‘Hello Chiiiiiiiillldreen!’ I had found the volume control and turned it way down. We were approaching midday when another bulletin came from the DJ.

“I’ve got another story for you wastelanders, maybe something to cheer your hearts. A couple of days ago I told you to keep your eyes open for a pair of fillys from Littlerock that had gone missing, well, I've got you an update. Turns out, they left of their own accord, looking to make a difference out there. Unfortunately, they ran afoul of a gang of raiders, and one of them didn’t make it out.”

I stopped and looked down at my leg, I knew this story, but how did DJ Pon3?

“the other filly very nearly suffered the same fate before somepony killed the entire gang from the shadows, stepped out and declared themselves an equestrian army special operative. Are they a ghoul? Did they crawl out of some military bunker? Are they just crazy? Who knows, but they got that little lost filly back home to Littlerock. So thank you Operative, good to know there’s someone else out there fighting the good fight.”

As the newsflash ended and the music resumed I could feel Neon’s smile in the back of my head.

“You’re famous,” he said.

I frowned, looking back at the grinning pegasus, “That kind of undermines the stealth approach I operate under.”

“I didn’t think about that.” He retreated under his mane again, “n-not that we’ve seen anyone since those steel rangers.”

The kid’s confidence seemed to wax and wane quicker than a wonderbolt in flight, definitive when unseen, shy the minute he was looked at. I wondered if it was a sniper thing or just his upbringing, or just him. While we were stopped I took the opportunity to scout around with the binoculars, we were reaching the eastern edge of the whitetail woods and would soon turn south to squeeze between them and the ponyville hills. There was a rail line in the distance, leading to a collection of train cars piled on top of a switching junction.

“What can you see?”

“looks like a lot of activity around the, settlement? The one on the rail junction.” I relayed, scanning the area, “and we’re not the only ones looking.”

Below us I could see another pony investigating the junction. With no wings or visible horn, I classed them as an earth pony, backed up by them holding up some kind of spyglass in a hoof, peering down at the junction settlement. They had a poofy red mane crowning their head and were wearing a full length coat of some kind, with a logo on the back. A revolver cylinder with five empty chambers and a single round in the last one.

“let me see,” Neon Dream said, kicking a catch on his battle saddle. The rifle slid forward into position and the scope tilted to the side, settling over the pegasus’ uncovered eye.

“oh yeah,” he said, “I know them, I recognise the logo. It’s Roulette.”

I blinked, I’d heard the name but was missing the connection. Neon Dream continued, giving me the required context, “she’s a wandering weapons merchant, travels between settlements to trade.”

Lets go say hello.

If I get threatened again I swear... I sighed, ‘Luna hold and shield me’ I muttered and started trotting towards Roulette, giving a toss of my head to call Neon Dream with me. The trader noticed our approach while still watching the settlement, though they were covered by their coat, I could see the tension in their legs and a twitch in their tail before they slowly dropped the spyglass to their side.

“Hello there,” they said, by their voice they sounded like a mare, “you looking for trade or trouble?”

“Does anyone announce they're after trouble?” Neon Dream called back from behind me. I flashed him a look and he ducked back behind his mane.

The mare chuckled, turning around to face us. She had a dull cream coat, but a shock of red mane, with a stripe of orange winding it’s way through the bouncy hair. Her eyes widened as she saw us and if she hadn’t been an earth pony I’d have sworn she teleported she was in front of me so fast. My reflexes couldn’t keep up and she was already practically muzzle to muzzle with me before my hoof swung back in an attempt to reach Resolve.

“omigoshlookatyourhats!” the mare squealed, swiping my beret from my head and perching it on the top of her bouncy mane.

I just stood there, frozen by the madness before me. She seemed to sense this and took a step back, bringing a hoof to her mouth and giving a little cough.

“ahem, where are my manners?” she said, before dropping the hoof and beaming at us, “I’m the Wandering Weaponista: Roulette, at your service.” She gave a sweeping bow, my beret remaining impossibly perched on her mane.

I frowned at the trader, face falling low and my mouth drawing into a tight line. As irrational as it seemed, having my beret swiped was... Distressing. It was one of my only tangible links to the past and one of the few items I had that gave me an identity. Without it I kind of felt like I might just fall down the empty hole in my mind and never come back out. I needed the hat to complete my uniform, my uniform gave me purpose, my purpose kept me from drifting away.

“Can I have my beret back?” I asked nicely, with minimal grinding of teeth.

“No?”

I blinked. Maybe I wasn’t polite enough. I should deploy the magic word.

“Can I have my beret back, please?”

“Please Roulette, it’s kind of important to him.” Neon Dream chimed in. I could also point out that his beret was also a sentimental object for him too.

The mare rolled her eyes, “okay, okay, no problem,” she flicked it with a hoof and sent the beret spinning back to me, landing on my horn. “anyways, you look to me to be customers, so...”

She sat back on her haunches and undid the coat, pulling open one side to show an array of pouches sewn into the lining, “What’re you buying?” she opened the other side of the coat, revealing more of the same, and a few strips of metal that looked like battle saddle controls “what’re you selling?”

We pulled the ammunition we had scavenged from the steel rangers and had Roulette cast her eye over it, evaluating the price for these rounds in bulk. The minigun bullets weren’t worth much apiece, but there was an entire ammo drum of them. We kept back some of the grenades from the same ranger, even if they weren’t the easily thrown metal apple variety, there were uses for grenades. The rifle rounds were worth a bit more, it was heavy duty ammo and she had a few specialist sniper clients that would benefit. We bought some extra spark packs for Neon Dream and I topped up on rounds for Resolve. Roulette also had a holster in her bottomless coat that would hold the gun, rather than tucking it into a loop on my back.

As I went to swap the Operator over I paused, taking it up in my hooves. I braced it with one hoof and pulled the slide with my other, catching the last round for the gun in my teeth.

“Do you have any of these?” I asked, transferring it to my hoof and holding it out.

Roulette took it, feeling the round and looking at it from different angles, gazing at it through a jeweller’s loupe that had appeared from somewhere. She gave the round a lick and also a quick bite, causing one of my eyebrows to slide up my head. Looking up she caught my eye.

“No luck I’m afraid,” she said, tossing the bullet back to me, “its a .45 IPC, not rare-rare, but certainly uncommon. I can do you that caliber for revolvers or rifles but they just didn’t make many pistols that used it.”

My disappointment must have shown on my face as I loaded the last round into the Operator as Roulette spoke up again,

“Hey, hey, don’t worry.” She bumped me on the foreleg with a hoof, “we might be able to get some. Might have a proposition for you guys anyways.”

I looked back at Neon Dream who shrugged. Turning back to the weapons dealer I motioned for her to continue.

“Look, I was planning on heading down there and talking to Gawd, but somethings got everything shook up by the looks of things and I don’t wanna get caught up in it, so I can offer the job to you guys instead.” She grinned at us, “you’re not busy or anything are you?”

“We’re headed for Canterlot,” that pegasus will be the death of me, “but we can help out.”

“What about you strong and silent?” the mare giggled. I simply sighed,

“What’s the mission?”

The mission it seemed was to investigate an old Ironshod Firearms facility outside of Ponyville. Specifically the warehouse and loading bay, Roulette had acquired a supervisor’s key that would get us into the facility, we just needed to check for security, disable it if it existed, and let her in to scavenge. And also be her bodyguards on the way, apparently raiders liked to set up in Ponyville.

It was on our way at least.

Mission accepted, Roulette had done her coat back up and we had got moving, following the edge of the Whitetail woods around to the south, at the foot of the ponyville hills. Given I now had two ponies requesting it, the radio was most definitely playing as we wound our way towards Ponyville, which gave us some musical accompaniment to our trek. Roulette tried to chat with both of us and while I was quiet, or gave short answers, Neon Dream was perhaps worse. Now he wasn’t aiming for pithy remarks or speaking for the both of us, instead becoming increasingly flustered by the attentions of the cream mare. It was almost a relief when DJ Pon3 came back on the air with an update.

“Good evening wastelanders! How’s every pony doing? Got some great news for you today! Remember that little Stable Gal who took on the slavers of Appleloosa and saved all those ponies?” nope, I did not. I suppose this Stable Dweller was fixture of the DJ by the way he talked about her, but he’d not mentioned her today, “Well don’t ask me how, but she survived takin’ a nosedive off a cliff in a speeding train. That’s right, fillies and gentlecolts: she’s back!” that would explain it, she must have been dead. Or, presumed dead.

Roulette gave a little hoofclap, “Alright Stable Dweller,” she said, evidently a fan. The name niggled the back of my mind though.

Peach Lemonade.

What?

She left Littlerock to be a hero like the Stable Dweller.

I frowned, remembering the mare, how she had almost immediately ran into trouble and gotten her cousin killed. Roulette picked up on my expression.

“Not a fan of the Stable Dweller?”

“She inspired two fillies from Littlerock to go out righting wrongs,” a smile formed on the mare’s face, “It got one killed, badly. And the other very nearly worse.”

The smile was gone and she nodded slowly, “it’s a harsh wasteland out there. You step out blindly, you’re going to get hurt.” Her eyes slid sideways to glance at me, “but, you know about the filly from littlerock, you know her motivations. DJ Pon3 didn’t mention that, Operative.”

I frowned at her, then craned my head around to look at Neon Dream, “what did I say? About the radio mention?” he gave an apologetic smile and ducked behind his mane.

We ducked into an overhang of rock as the light bled away, fading fast now we were between the forest and the hills. I never considered a fire when I had rested last night, but Roulette insisted and managed to pull materials from somewhere in her coat. Once the fire was lit she also pulled a tin of food out and prodded me with it.

“Come on then Unicorn, get that open and hold it over the fire.”

I frowned, remembering that she only knew I was a unicorn because she stole my beret. I turned my glare to the can and focused, the air around the top of the can shimmering slightly before a silent blade cut the top of the can away. It turned out the can was full of beans. My green magic enveloped the can and held it in the fire to cook. It was only then I noticed Roulette staring at me. “What?”

“I, uhhh, what was that? I thought you’d use a knife or something.”

“I know a spell, it’s good for opening tin cans,” I thought of the Steel Ranger armour I had wrecked, “among other things.”

When the beans were warm the cream coated mare shared out some spoons and we all shared in dinner. I thought of the three snack cakes in my saddlebags, a little part of my mind told me to jealously guard those cakes but I had my mission, and on a mission, the needs of the team come first. I shared out the cakes, receiving appreciative smiles from both ponies.

As the fire burned low I turned to Neon Dream, “alright kid, you’re on first watch.”

Roulette chuckled, “Tough luck kid,” she said, waving a hoof at him, “don’t worry, I’ll relieve you in a few hours.”

That left me with third watch.

As the bright pegasus mumbled to himself behind his mane I settled down near the warmth of the fire and pulled Resolve from its new place on my left foreleg, frowning at the very selective safety switch before setting it down within mouth reach.

“How come you do everything like an earth pony?” Roulette had been watching me, even as she had pulled a pillow and blanket from her coat, “you’re a unicorn, usually you lot are all about easy peasy floaty pleasey.”

“Its how I was trained, fight like an earth pony, don’t rely on magic and it can’t be taken away from you for an easy victory.” I said, pointing a hoof at my beret, “also, conserve magic, deceive opponents, subterfuge. If I don’t announce I’m a unicorn, I can surprise them with my spell.”

Seeming satisfied, Roulette nodded sagely then flopped to the ground dramatically. “Nighty night Operative,” she said, head on the pillow and rolling away from me.

I finally settled down and closed my eyes, drifting off into sleep.

“Come on,” I was being dragged to the front of the column, “you know dirt, find them.”

The soldier pulling me let go as the sergeant gave me an order. Somepony had spotted a mine ahead of us, and now the worry was that the entire dirt road had been mined. We were pressing into Zebra territory, driving this front back, and they were leaving us presents.

I gulped, stepping forward and looking at the road. It was hard to spot any sign of digging, the rain that even now pattered down on us had washed the dirt into mud. Having lost my helmet at the bridge my mane was soaked.

Lowering my head I closed my eyes, sending out my magic and concentrating on the feel of the earth below me. Had my eyes been open I might have seen the faint orange ripple that spread over the road. I felt through the earth, almost like running a hoof through the mud, sensing the distribution of dirt and aggregate and life. Dirt road it may have been but there was a decent foundation to it, with the upper layers compacted from years of use. As I worked my way up and along I felt the voids near the surface along with the harsh feel of worked metal. The mines.

If I told them, they would just expect me to clear them, which would not be a great plan. I was not a bomb disposal pony and this rigging, while reinforced, was not exactly explosion proof. Although, while I had them mapped out, I could get a hold of them. I gritted my teeth and zeroed in on the feel of the mines, and the thin layer of mud on top of them, scraping back the wet dirt and hauling the metal discs from the ground.

“What in the layers of tartarus are you doing?” the sergeant asked as a few of the other soldiers gasped,

Sweat was running down my face as an orange overglow covered my flaring horn, a wave of mines rising slowly from the ground.

“Mine... Clearing...” I ground out; eyes still closed as I focused.

There were too many to attempt to disarm, and zebras had all manner of nasty tricks to keep mines lethal. It only occurred to me then that some of those tricks were designed to punish unicorns who floated mines. My eyes snapped open as I heard a ‘beep’ from my floating swarm of mines, followed by another, and another.

“Get Down!” I yelled as I took a firmer grip of the mines and wrenched them sideways, trying to chuck them far from our route.

I dove to the ground as the beeping reached a crescendo then the swarm of mines exploded, the tampered ones cooking off the rest.

A wave of fire came rolling through the air straight at me and...

A hoof rocked me awake, I had Resolve in my mouth and pointed towards the owner of said hoof before my eyes were open.

“Heyhey, put that down.” A mare’s voice cut through my bleary, sleepy state, “it’s third watch.”

My mind caught up with my reflexes and I blinked the sleep from my eyes, a blurry smear resolving into the form of Roulette. I dropped my head, lowering the gun and tonguing the safety which I just knew would have come off. It had.

I returned Resolve to its holster and rose to my hooves, cocking my head at the weapons trader,

“Err, sorry. Bad dream,” I said, feeling a little embarrassed that I had nearly shot my current employer.

“Not a problem, really,” she shook her head, “just gotta remember not to shake you awake.”

Or we take first watch.

“Or I take first watch.”

“Well, if you’re volunteering, I think Neon will be happy.”

Wait, what? Damn my rogue thoughts. I sighed and walked away from the slight warmth of the burnt-out fire, taking up my position and watching the surroundings.

The dream was fading fast, but I was feeling a certain sense of unease, not all my dreams were feeling... Correct? Familiar? Mine? They were clearly memories spilling out of the hole while I slept, but some did not mesh. I shook the feeling off, this could be considered when we were not out in an irradiated wilderness that held threats from mutated sprites to psychotic raiders.

Like the others, my watch was quiet, it seemed like few ponies walked the gap between tall hills and irradiated forest. Unfortunately this meant that my watch dragged on slowly. My gaze swept along the land before our shelter. Left. Right. Left. Right. I could hear faint tuba music to the north, there was a spritebot floating around that way. The music faded away and silence remained. To pass the time I reviewed my mission; access Station 1 and discover what became of the project leads. To do that, I had to access Station 2 and use a project lead’s terminal to release the lockdown in Station 1. To do that I had to carry out Roulette’s little scavenging job.

Never mind that after all of that, I had to then live in the equestrian wasteland. While I had yet to see much of it, I wasn’t sure there was much livelihood to be made for an ex-special operative unicorn who knew maybe two spells.

As I pondered, the chill of Luna’s night faded away, replaced by the wan light of Celestia’s shrouded dawn. That was something I never thought I would miss; the stars, the moon, the feel of Luna watching over me as I ran my missions under the cover of night.

My reverie was broken by a soft ‘hi’ from beside me and I tilted my head to see the teal mane of Neon Dream covering the side of his face.

“Morning,” I said, glancing at the clock in the corner of my peripheral vision, courtesy of the pipbuck’s E. F. S. “my watch doesn’t end for about half an hour.”

“Do you remember him well?” the pegasus asked, “he had some stories of you,”

I grimaced slightly, “Fallen?” the kid nodded, “I remember some, but my memories are... Hazy, fragmented. Like there’s a hole in my mind they’ve fallen in to.”

“He said that you were the last of them, that you didn’t get an opportunity to live like the rest before the reset and everyone getting stasis time.”

I grunted, the context was missing, but the implication was clear.

“He liked you, though thought you were very by the book.” The pegasus turned his head to look at me from under his mane, the visible eye watery, “from all the stories he told me, I always wanted to meet another operative. And now I have.”

I turned back to the wasteland, “sorry to disappoint you.”

I heard Neon Dream turn around and walk away, just barely catching the mumbled ‘you haven’t’ as he left.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, which suited me. Apparently Roulette was not her usual exuberant self before a morning cup of coffee. A cup she filled with grounds from a tin in her coat, some water from a bottle and then had me hold over the embers of the fire. After deciding that warming it was taking too long she snatched the cup from my telekinetic field and chugged the whole thing, grounds and all. Both Neon Dream and I stared at her for a few seconds as she chewed the grounds left behind in her mouth, then her eyes suddenly sprang wide open. We took a step back.

“Right! Thatsusreadytogo!”

In a frenzy of activity Roulette packed up her sleeping accoutrements, downed an oat bar and doused the last of the fire with a bottle of water that set my pipbuck clicking. We were swept out of the hollow and back onto our route in record time.

My two travelling companions insisted on having the radio on as we continued our journey, so we walked to 200-year-old music and chatter from the DJ. There were no more updates on the activities of the Stable Dweller, nor me fortunately, so we instead got bulletins about dealing with radiation, hostile wildlife and raiders. By mid-morning we had passed through the gap between the woods and the hills and so swung around to the northeast, catching sight of an old railway line snaking across the wasteland. Southeast I could see the tracks cross a valley and head towards some kind of settlement, Roulette informed me that it was New Appleloosa. We picked up the tracks around midday and trotted along them, passing the ruins of an old apple farm.

Our pace slowed as we approached a ruined settlement and I insisted on switching off the radio. Checking the map on my pipbuck I could see the ruins labelled as ‘Ponyville’.

Ponyville was dead.

We picked our way cautiously through the ruins. I took point, moving between buildings, keeping to the shadows, checking the angles before calling the others up. Nothing. There was evidence of a fight, or a series of them, a blast crater outside a shop called ‘Carousel Boutique’ with some scattered pony parts in the vicinity, the parts not snatched up by local carrion birds in any case. The central feature was a large tree with doors and windows inset, a sign over the big doors at ground level proclaiming it the ‘Ponyville Library’. There was a body in the dirt in front of the tree, looking at the way it lay it seemed to have fallen some distance, I looked up and spotted a balcony some way up the tree. The wounds on the body were all in the back, they’d been shot from behind as they tried to jump the balcony.

The fact that the body was wearing the filthy, blood-soaked leather strapping chic that seemed to identify raiders muted any sympathy his fate might have drawn.

“Looks like someone’s already cleared through here” Neon observed, looking around the silent ruins.

Roulette spotted something on the ground and scooped it up in a hoof. It was the shell casing of a large rifle round. The weapons trader rolled it back and forth in her hooves, looking over the state of the brass, then she raised it to her mouth and licked it. She made a grunt, seeming to roll the flavour around in her mouth.

“About a week old,” she declared

Neon Dream managed to voice my thoughts for me. “You’re one weird mare,” he said, flinching back under his mane as Roulette looked over at him, “n-not that that’s a bad thing...”

The red mare trotted up to the green pegasus, getting so close that she pressed the flat of her head against his, staring into his exposed eye, which had widened to the size of a dinner plate. The tension broke suddenly as she reared up and wrapped her forelegs around Neon Dream’s neck. I took a few steps forward, but it became immediately apparent that she was not applying some kind of headlock to the poor buck.

“You are so CUTE!” she yelled, nearly bringing the pegasus to the floor.

I stepped up and tried to wedge a hoof between the pair, “we can’t be sure no one else is here, and we have a mission to complete.”

Giving a frustrated snort, Roulette let go of Neon Dream, who in turn gave a gasp as he gulped down fresh air.

“Spoilsport.” she said, sticking out her tongue.

I just shook my head and took point once again as we marched out the far side of Ponyville, making our way past a large monument, making sure to avoid the large sleeping reptiles bathing in the irradiated water that surrounded it. Radgator, Roulette had called them. I glanced up at the statue in the monument, and had a moment of recognition.

“Big Macintosh” I said aloud,

I felt the other two stop behind me.

“Did you know him,” Neon Dream whispered, but I shook my head,

“No, he was long dead when I was recruited.”

The war got brutal after he fell.

My rogue thoughts were back,

Equestria’s innocence died at Shattered Hoof.

I’d argue Equestria’s innocence died at Littlehorn, though perhaps our morals died with Big Macintosh. Why else would killers like me be deployed?

Author's Note

Thanks to kkat for creating this crazy mashup and letting others play around in it.
Thanks to Somber too, I may reference things from Project Horizons and Homelands here and there.