“I’m Gestalt.”

“Nope, you’re Mosaic.”

“How can you tell?”

“Through the arcane science of Frendship!”

“Twilight... Friendship’s not a science...”

“We’re what?”

“Going. To. New. Apple. Oosa.” Roulette spoke slowly, enunciating each syllable.

I frowned, “I heard what you said, but that’s in completely the opposite direction.” I huffed, gesturing to Neon Dream, “we need to go to Canterlot.”

“YesyesIknow” she waved me off with a hoof, “but with the wall breached like this I need to move fast to secure the goods.”

“It’s breached because you woke up the robot”

“ah-ah-ah, lets not get bogged down in the details of who woke up what, you signed on to guard me on this expedition and this job isn’t finished until I have the merchandise secured.”

Luna preserve me. She was right, technically, and I’d imagine if I broke contract, she’d tell everyone. Bad enough for my MO that that DJ had identified me, but if I was being introduced as an untrustworthy sort that reneged on deals, I was going to have great difficulty getting anything accomplished. I pressed a hoof to my forehead, trying to rub away the building headache.

“Alright,” I sighed, defeated, “alright. We’ll get you to New Appleoosa, then we head back this way.”

Roulette thumped me in the arm with a hoof, “see, its not so bad. And you’ve got time, it’s not like Canterlot’s gonna fall off the mountain or anything.”

The rest of the day was spent sweeping the immediate vicinity for any more ghouls then building some defences at the breech, something we could use to partially seal it up when we left. Our dinner was at the whims of Roulette’s coat and turned out to be a box of preserved cereal, given we lacked a fire to cook it on. There had been a suggestion to repurpose the energy cannon in the Silverpone, but that got shut down because a: it was a bad idea and b: the components in the head were extensively melted and unsalvageable.

After we ate Roulette trotted away, saying she was going to hunt down something she’d found in the manifests. I tried to send Neon Dream after her to watch her back, but she insisted she was fine, and threatened to do unspeakable things to the pegasus if he followed her. Five minutes after I sent him anyway those unspeakable things seemed to have included licking his face, tickling him and sticking a wet rag in his ear. I sighed again, staring at the floor in front of Neon Dream as he regaled me with Roulette’s torture.

I gestured to the piles of packing materials we had pressed into service as bedding,

“Get some rest, I’ll take first watch.”

Leaving him behind I set up at our barricade, looking out into the dark, cloud shrouded night. Resolve rested on the crate in front of me and I reminded myself that I needed to check for extra ammo for it here in the warehouse. I heard the soft flutter of wings approaching as my pegasus companion attempted to be stealthy.

“Neon Dream,” there was a tap of hooves as he landed, “you should get some rest.”

He stood there silently and I turned my head to actually look at him. He was hiding behind his mane again, staring out at the sky.

“Are you alright?” I asked him, “you weren’t quite there at the end of the fight.”

He mumbled something I couldn’t hear, his head dipping and hiding his lips behind that mane too. I asked him to repeat himself and he turned his face to me, mane falling away to reveal eyes full of unshed tears.

“I almost shot you.” He whispered, “not like I nearly missed, I was aiming for you when you trapped the robot. I-I...” he paused, trying to take a breath, then his voice cracked as he continued, “you killed Dad. Fallen. I know he asked, but still you took him from me. I-I think I hate you for that. Hated you. I was just staring at you through my scope and thinking I could take revenge.”

I kept my face impassive. Still. I was sure there were plenty of people who hated me for the same reason, but it was hurting me a little that Neon Dream did. I let him continue,

“But I couldn’t, I just... You are a good pony, you saved Peach, you agreed to help Roulette and you saved us from the robot. And... And you did what Dad wanted.” The tears were flowing now, silently ploughing wet furrows through his fur as they fell from his eyes and were pulled to the floor. “I’ve never met any ghouls besides Dad, so when those ferals came in, I finally saw what he had been talking about, what he had been scared of becoming.”

He wiped the tears from his eyes, smearing the wetness across his cheeks.

“I think I might still hate you a little, for what you did, but thank you for doing it. Dad wouldn’t have wanted,” he inclined his head towards the gap in the wall, to where we had disposed of the ferals, “that.”

I nodded gently, accepting the pegasus’ thanks, trying to formulate something to say. I pawed at the ground with a hoof as I tried to think, feeling something move in a pocket of my barding. I opened the pocket and fished out the cap badges, scooping up Falling Tactics’... no, Fallen’s badge and holding it out to Neon Dream.

“I think you should have this.” I said, “I wanted to try and reunite the 900th in some way with them, but this one is yours. I... I’m sorry for what I did, and I accept that you hate me for it, but it was Fallen’s request, and seeing those feral ghouls, it was a clear mercy.”

Neon Dream looked at the cap badge, then back up to me. He must have been hanging around Roulette too much because he managed to dash forward quicker than I could react and threw his forelegs around my neck, hugging me tightly. Hoping this was not a second murder attempt, yet not really knowing how to respond, I brought the hoof holding the badge around, patting him on the shoulder.

I could hear him mumbling by my ear as he embraced me,

“I forgive you Razor,” he said, sniffing.

“Thank you, Neon Dream.”

“Could-could you do me a favour though?” he asked, relaxing his grip and stepping back, a sheepish look on his face. I nodded, “don’t keep using my full name. It feels a bit weird.”

I gave a little cough, comments about me being very ‘by-the-book’ coming back to mind. “Alright, Neon. Is that OK?” he nodded “do you feel a little better?”

“y-yes, I think I do.” He cocked his head, still giving me a sad look, “I think I might still hate you a little bit, I’m sorry, but, d-do you think we could be friends?” he held out a hoof.

Despite myself, a little grin tickled my muzzle, “I think so.” I said, “you’d be my first friend.” I tapped it with my own, exchanging the cap badge in the process.

“Now get some sleep, you’re on second watch.”

Neon snapped me a quick salute and returned to the bedding pile. I turned back to the gap in the wall, catching the silver glint of the wrecked Silverpone as I did so. I had felt pretty powerless there, feeling the weaknesses of my fighting technique without some way of punching through that armour. I needed something heavier than Resolve, though something high powered that was also quiet would be preferred.

“How’s the kid doing?”

I didn’t jump out of my coat, but I did manage to supress my reaction down to just a twitch as Roulette appeared beside me. Sometimes it seemed that earth ponies had the strongest, if subtlest, magic. I centred myself and let out the breath that had hitched in my throat when the cream coated mare had appeared.

“He’s doing, alright, I think. Decided not to kill me, so that’s a positive.”

She quirked her head, “why was he going to kill you?”

I looked over to the dark form of Neon on the packing pile. I could give my side; he could tell her what he wanted to.

“I killed his father.”

Roulette’s eyes narrowed a little, her ear giving a little twitch, “say again?”

I raised an eyebrow at her demeanour, but really, it was probably a natural reaction.

“His father was close to going feral and asked me to put him down.” I paused, “he was... Not a friend exactly, I never had that chance, but he was loyal companion, a respected squadmate. And a damn good shot.”

The mare’s red mane flipped about as she turned to look at Neon as well, “he picked that up at least.” She turned back to me, “well, now that’s cleared up, I think you deserve your present.”

She smiled a big grin and rummaged around in a pocket, withdrawing a package then holding it out to me.

Confused, I took it from her and read the address, eyes widening. “Where did you get this?” I asked, looking back up,

The smile was still on her muzzle, “I saw it on the manifest, you’re gonna love it.” She shook a hoof at me, “go on, open it, open it... Openitopenitopenit!”

I felt confused for a moment, then realised she didn’t know the significance of this package, just the contents. I Iooked back down at the address again;

To:

Dr E. Muse

Research Division

Ministry of Arcane Science

Ministry Walk

Canterlot

Perhaps it was providence, perhaps it was a coincidence. Either way, I opened the package. Inside was a box with the Ironshod Firearms logo and slogan (How do you like them Apples?) emblazoned on it with the words ‘Special Order’ stamped on the lid. With a flick of a hoof, I opened the box and saw something unexpected, a pair of pistol magazines, full of rounds, and a note. Looking closer at the magazines I saw a familiar set of grooves in the familiar shape, these were magazines for the Operator. And they were full. 14 of the uncommon .45 IPC pistol rounds just sitting in a package for Project Director Muse.

“Do ya like em?” I looked back up at the weapon merchant, nodding,

“Yes. Thank you.” I said, snagging the note with my hoof, “it’s, well, it’s very thoughtful of you. Especially as a gift.”

“It’s coming outta your paycheck Kubota.” She said, making some kind of pose. My eyebrow slowly climbed my brow as she held the pose, her resolve flagging and her hoof drooping at the ankle. She rubbed the back of her head sheepishly,

“Ehhh heh heh, its, err, its from an old radio serial, back out west.” She smiled warmly, reminiscing in her past, “someone found an old working radio station out in the San Palomino, including an archive of tapes with a bunch of old radio serials in there. My favourite was always ‘Bright Star – Special Stallion Service’. He was a secret agent for Luna, swooping in to foil dastardly zebra plots with his faithful, if clumsy retainer, Kubota.”

It sounded fascinating, if perhaps a bit close to life for me to enjoy.

Yeah, you’d be criticising his methods and techniques the whole time.

“Sounds like a fun story. Do you not get the signal out here?”

She shook her head, “no, the serial station just uses their own equipment, not like DJ Pon3 tapping into the MASEBS, so no Bright Star for me.” She sighed, “its been years since I was back that way.”

A wistful look covered her face, but there was sadness in her eyes. She shook her head, and they were both gone.

“Anyway, I’m glad you like the gift. I’m gonna go bed down by Dreamy.”

“You’re on third watch,” I told her, “Give you some time to wake up.”

She nodded and waved as she turned around and headed to her own pile of packing materials. I watched her go then turned around, back to the barricade, though before settling back into my watch I flipped open the note and read it.

‘Dr Muse,

I apologise for the delay in sending these out to you. The .45 IPC is not one of our large run calibre sizes and so had to be hoofloaded by our specialist Black Powder to meet your order.

Similarly, the magazines also caused a small delay. You will note that this package does not contain the requested non-standard parts, it was decided that sourcing and/or manufacturing these would add even more lead time to your order, therefore in the interests of sending you most of the products you ordered, these parts will be delivered at a later date. I would ask if perhaps rather than modifying your IF11-1S, you would consider a different Ironshod firearm to suit your needs. Perhaps an IF-44 personal defence pistol?

I hope that this package finds you well and that we continue our partnership with your department.

Kind Regards,

Steam Whistle

Distribution Supervisor

Ponyville Distribution Centre.’

I let out a ‘hmmm’, this looked to be Project Lead Muse ordering items for her own personal sidearm, a project issue Operator by the sounds of it. Given how modified these guns were from standard IF-11 I couldn’t quite think what additions Dr Muse would be making.

Still, the magazines were compatible with my Operator, so I took the opportunity to reload it with one of my gifts, feeling a sense of relief to have my silent option available again. I stashed the empty magazine away, and the single spare round.

After that, my watch dragged by. No shapes in the darkness, no rustling trees, no hungry ghouls leaping from the night. As my pipbuck told me my watch was over I trotted across to the piles of makeshift bedding and roused Neon Dream. He had pinned Fallen’s cap badge back to his cap and had placed it on top of his shucked battle saddle.

“Come on kid,” I said as I placed a hoof on him, shaking him gently, “it’s that magical time of night called ‘second watch’.”

The pegasus groaned, trying to roll away from the attacking hoof, but his head fell from the pile of bedding and struck the floor, waking him fully with a smarting headache. “Oww,” he rubbed his head as he rose to his hooves, grumbling as he trotted over to the barricade.

With watch exchanged, I lay down on my own pile of repurposed packing materials and closed my eyes, letting myself drift away into sleep.

I was in the mess hall for the first time. Having completed my evaluation, I was being given some downtime before my first mission. I sat at the table with a tray in front of me as the bustle of other staff members flowed around me.

A pair of unicorns sat down at the table with me, one a white coated stallion with a black tinted muzzle and a diamond pattern on their forehead and the other was a mare with a coat of dark, burnt orange.

“Hey new guy,” the stallion said, gazing at me from lazy looking, half-lidded eyes, “looking a little formal there,”

I frowned, regulations recommended wearing assigned battledress even when off duty, in case a mission came up. Besides, I was comfortable in my operator’s barding and beret.

“Knocker,” the mare said, nudging his shoulder, “be nice. I’m High Temp. That’s Door Knocker.”

I nodded, “901: AAS, 908: HTS,” I had been briefed on the other Framework Troopers, “I look forward to working with you.”

Door Knocker ran a hoof through the messy tangle of a black and white mane while letting out a sigh. “Yeah, definitely fresh.”

I wondered briefly how that mane fit under an issued beret before 908 spoke again.

“I heard you were going to be sent to Station 5” I nodded, “good thing we caught you here then, we’re usually based out of Station 2.”

The Canterlot Station. I was aware of it and nodded. I briefly wondered why they were here instead, she had implied they were looking to see me.

No. Do not question. Do not guess motives. That is not important. Only the mission is important.

Something must have shown on my face as 901 rolled his eyes with a sigh while a glint of sadness flashed across 908s eyes.

I did not understand their reactions, but it must have been a test of somekind. Never mind, I did not need to pass their tests, just work alongside them. I just needed to serve the project and Princess Luna.

The unicorns stood from the table, shooting each other a look, “well, we need to go” 901 said, turning around and calling “bye new guy” over his shoulder. 908 simply shook her head, “goodbye Razor Wind, good luck on your missions, I hope to work with you soon.”

They walked out of the cafeteria, leaving me alone with my meal. They had left behind their trays, and I noticed that both were empty and untouched.

The memory faded away and my dream instead became one where I was running around a maze trying to escape the Silverpone while ineffectually firing back at it. I was rescued from the conflict by a series of kicks to my hindleg.

I sat up with Resolve in my mouth, eyes cracking open to see Roulette staring at me with bloodshot eyes, chewing something that smelt distinctly of coffee.

“Are... Are you chewing coffee grounds?” I asked, dropping Resolve from my mouth after tonguing the safety back on.

Roulette let out a drawled ‘ahhyup’ while still staring at me.

“Maybe you need to take first watch.”

“Nope,”

I frowned at her before rising to my hooves, stretching out and hissing as I stretched the slice in my flanks. I had forgotten about that, and the rent in my barding. I was going to have to fix that at some point, though I wasn’t sure I really knew how, I was much better at cutting than stitching.

“Your mark matches your badge,” came a soft voice from behind me, Neon Dream was also up.

I looked back at him over my shoulder, eyes flicking to the badge on his own cap.

“Yes, we all had our marks on our badges,” I confirmed, “Fallen was the same. Didn’t you see?”

Neon Dream shook his head, “His... Condition meant that he lost his marks. Gave us all a bit of solidarity.”

Roulette cocked her head to the side, still chewing the coffee, confusion on her face, before something like comprehension filed her eyes and she nodded once. I felt like I was missing something, quirking an eyebrow.

Neon Dream dropped his head, returning to the safety of his hair. “When mom and I left the Enclave, w-we were labelled as ‘Dashites’,” he looked back up, “it means traitor. They b-branded us with the sign, destroying mom’s cutie mark.”

I frowned; the term was unfamiliar but reminded me of the Ministry Mare of the Ministry of Awesome. I was missing context. Also, I realised something.

“And your cutie mark?” I asked,

“I n-never got one,” he whispered, “I was branded before I had my cutie mark and it never appeared.”

“Oh Dreamy,” Roulette threw her forelegs around the pegasus. I looked down at the floor, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” was all I could say.

He shook his head, patting Roulette on the shoulder, “It’s ok. I’m used to it by now.”

We spent the next hour trying to secure the warehouse as best we could before turning back to the rail line and heading south-west, past the empty shell of Ponyville. Roulette assured us that following the railway would lead us to the settlement of New Appleloosa, though I wondered about its relationship to the town of Appleoosa I was familiar with. The rail line took a turn south and we followed it over an old wooden bridge that looked fairly rickety, but seemed to hold up fine as we stepped from plank to plank. The bridge carried us over some kind of dried out gulley that had some kind of creatures wandering around it.

There was little on the radio other than music for our travels and it wasn’t long before we came across a settlement. The rail line ran straight into a circle of old railway box cars forming a defensive wall, with some kind of mechanism for raising and lowering one of them as a gate directly across the rails. I spotted sentries on the top of the walls and some kind of guard post above the gate. I could feel eyes on us as we approached, but Roulette pushed past me to head up our little group, calling out to the guards.

“Hiya! It’s meeee,” she called up, pointing to her logo with a hoof, “the Wandering Weaponista,”

“I know who you are Roulette,” came a voice from the guard post, “if I recall, you still owe me 200 caps from the last time you came through.”

“Lucky for you I’ve got business to discuss then.”

The guard pony grumbled, but pressed a button with his hoof and opened the gate, the box car raising up just enough to let us walk under it. I tried not to think about the heavy steel box hanging over my head as we passed before we were through the dark tunnel formed by the structure and the box was returned to the ground. The rails continued in and met more of their kind, converging around a tall loading crane that dominated the centre of the settlement. Like the defensive wall, the buildings of New Appleoosa were made from train cars, stacked up and around forming a multi level maze that filled the space within the wall.

This must be the Heartland Hub.

My rogue thoughts were back to provide me with useless information.

It was a big rail hub, switching point, maintenance facility and sorting office.

And now it’s a town.

A hoof clapped me on the back, tearing me away from my thoughts, “Yep, impressive ain’t it?” Roulette was stood beside me, looking about. A glance back revealed Neon Dream also gazing around. While similar in style New Appleoosa was probably twice as big as Littlerock.

“Anyways, we’ve got someone to stop in and see about this merchandise.” She began to walk over to a set of stairs up to a higher level, “follow me!”

We climbed to the next level, weaving our way to a building formed from three different train cars welded together, smoke billowing from chimneys bolted to the top of one. There was a sign outside reading;

‘Yes, I do deliveries!

No hooves, nasty stingers? No service.

Ask me about special orders! I won’t answer, but I’ll get right on it!

Wasteland Survival Guide! Available now! First copy for every family is free!’

“Survival Guide huh?” I muttered; free intel would be useful.

Roulette pushed her way into the building calling out “Ditzy? Hello?” as Neon Dream and I followed her in.

I could hear the scratching of chalk on a board as we entered the store, seeing a shape behind the counter, a pony mouth-writing on something, that stood back up, proffering a chalkboard that was hanging around their neck on some rope.

‘Roulette? It’s been a while. How can I help?’

I tilted my head to the side, could this pony not talk? I looked closer, noticing the pallor and condition of the pony’s hide, their coat patchy and largely missing. Their mane was mostly gone and their wings, they were a pegasus it seemed, were bald of feathers.

It was a ghoul. I looked back at Neon Dream, who seemed to have mixed emotions playing across his face, though I imagine the fact that the ghoul was not trying to bite our faces off was helping him. Turning back I found the ghoul proprietor looking directly at us, Roulette stood beside them, grinning. I felt I had missed something, and with Roulette, that worried me.

The ghoul wrote on their chalkboard again, ‘Hello, I’m Ditzy Doo, I run this store.’ The board was held up for a moment, letting me read it before they dripped it back down to erase the words and write a new message.

‘Do you know Fallen? You’re wearing the same outfit.’

My eyes widened; this ghoul knew Fallen? I briefly wondered if, after 200 years, most ghouls had met each other by this point. I nodded, “Yes, I knew him. Worked with him during the war,” I waved a hoof at Neon Dream, “Neon here could tell you more. Fallen raised him.”

Neon Dream waved at the ghoul, “You’re Miss Ditzy Doo? Dad said he’d run into you a couple of times. Though you didn’t get out to the Antelope Valley very often.”

The ghoul mare nodded her head, then frowned. Wipe. Scribble. ‘Why the past tense?’

Neon’s head drooped, “H-he’s gone,” he said quietly, “didn’t want to go feral.”

‘I understand. I’m sorry. Please take a muffin.’

She indicated a plate of muffins on the counter while Roulette tapped her on the shoulder. We ignored the quiet ‘squish’ sound.

“Hey, Ditzy, do you still have that broadcaster set up?” the ghoul nodded, “great! I’m gonna make a call! The boys need a copy of the guide, food and the Operative needs a patch job on his barding.”

Ditzy opened her mouth, prepping to grab chalk, but would be waving a sign at a pony shaped cloud of dust. She sighed a raspy sigh and turned back to us, ‘she’s a hooffull huh?’

I nodded, “she always like that?” Ditzy nodded back, A chuckle drifted over my shoulder as Neon Dream chipped in.

“I always wondered how she survived as a trader.”

“M-mo... Ahh... ?” a small lavender filly peeked her head into the room, looking for Ditzy it seemed like, then ducking back as she spied us. The ghoul waved her in with a hoof, holding her foreleg out wide. The filly zipped across the room and buried herself under Ditzy, one eye peeking out at us. One of Ditzy’s eyes looked down at the filly, the other looked up at us as she gave a little smile. Neon Dream returned it, a small smile on his face.

“Hey there,” he said, crouching down to the child’s level, “I’m Neon Dream, what’s your name?”

“P-pi-no, Silver B-bell,” filly stammered out softly,

“That’s a pretty name, do you work here with Ms Doo?”

Silver Bell nodded with a little ‘uh huh’ as Ditzy scribbled on her board.

‘I look after her. It’s a long story and for Littlepip to tell.’

I tilted my head, “Who?” I asked, but before I could get a reply, Roulette barged back into the room, Silver Bell letting out an ‘eep’ and burying back under Ditzy.

“Right, done,” the cream mare smacked her hooves together, “You said Railright would want to see me?”

Ditzy nodded and Roulette rounded on me, her mane bouncing along as she turned, “Right you, strip outta that gear and leave it here.” She sidled up beside me before adding “I’ll buy you luuUUUuunch,” in a sing-song voice.

I rolled my eyes at her antics but gave a short ‘OK’ before trotting over to a corner to remove my operative barding. Feeling decidedly strange without the familiar compression it provided. I had retained the holster for Resolve and strapped it back to my foreleg, while the Operator was stored in my saddlebags as I threw them back on.

Handing off the barding to Ditzy, Neon and I followed Roulette from the store, the green pegasus giving Silver Bell a little wave. We wound back down the levels to an area near the foot of the crane that was fairly open. I would have thought it a market square, but there were no stalls, and besides, with Ditzy selling ‘absolutely anything’ there might not be much need for one. There was however an open fronted box car with smoke curling up from the chimneys mounted in it carrying with it the scent of cooking. A couple of tables spilled out from the boxcar surrounded by a motley assemblage of chairs.

Roulette led us to a table and sat us all on one side, our backs to the crane. I gave a little twitch of an ear, not entirely comfortable with presenting my back to a good sniper’s position. Conversely, we were shielded from the wall guards in case they were to take a shot at us.

I don’t think the paranoia will help here.

Still not sure if I should just trust all ponies out here. Remember the raiders?

You’ve made more friends than enemies out of your encounters so far.

I’ve made one friend and some acquaintances. And even that friend wanted to shoot me.

I’m sure Roulette would consider you a friend.

Employee perhaps.

My internal debate had distracted me from my surroundings and I returned to the outside world to find Roulette looking at me oddly, having placed herself between me and Neon.

“You alright there?” she asked, waving a hoof slightly. I just frowned at her. “Nevermind. Look, Railright is gonnna come meet us, so I need you to put your game faces on, look intimidating and all that. It’ll help the negotiations.”

My frown held, but I at least turned it away from the bouncy maned mare and towards the approaching stallion she had started waving at.

“Roulette,” he said simply, with a bit of a drawl, “why ya insist on meetin’ here an not in tha tavern I will never know.”

“I’m not welcome in the ‘Turnpike’, remember? The whole landmine incident,” I resolved not to ask about that, “Besides, Yon’s kitchen is better to do business at, quieter, fresh air, brighter.”

The grey stallion sat across from us with a sigh, waving a hoof at the butter yellow pony behind the counter in the boxcar. “Ah remember.”

“Guys, this is Railright, the... Mayor? Sherrif? Big Cheese? Whatever, he’s in charge of New Appleoosa,” Roulette waved a hoof at Railright, then to us, “Railright, meet my bodyguards. The Operatives.”

I ground my teeth together in frustration, which I imagined had the additional effect of improving my intimidating look.

The stallion looked a little apprehensive, but gave a nod, “well, knowin’ ya like ah do, ah’m sure ya need em.”

Roulette smacked a hoof to her chest in mock horror, “Railright, I’m hurt!” she gasped, then hit herself again as a quiet beeping started in the pocket of her coat. She chuckled a little as the beeping stopped and rubbed the back of her head.

Railright just closed his eyes and shook his head, his black mane looking frazzled just from being in her presence. “Why ain’t ya’ll the one called ‘Calamity’?” he pressed a hoof to his muzzle and let out a sigh “What do you want Roulette?”

A grin stayed affixed to her muzzle as she placed both hooves onto the table, “Business!”

She outlined our find of the ammunition warehouse, and offered her deal to the settlement’s leader. She needed the merchandise moving and the best way to do that would be by rail, which led to New Appleoosa. Ditzy was willing to store stock for her, and would be buying a few crates of calibres some of her customers regularly purchased, along with some for the more common firearms found out in the wasteland. The deal with Railright was for use of a train and a crew to get out to the distribution centre, load up on merchandise and haul it back, in return he could claim a couple of crates to supply the guard ponies and whomever else he felt needed bullets.

“An what about whatever’s left in that warehouse of yers?” the grey stallion looked a little concerned, “Ah don’ want no raiders or somethin’ movin’ in to a treasure trove.”

“I’ve made some calls and called in a few favours. There’ll be some traders calling in to empty that place and distribute what’s left, and some Talons will be heading over to guard it till it’s empty.” She gave a nod of finality, “Besides, ‘yall’ gonna be making a few trips with the train, that’ll take care of a goodly amount of it.”

Railright grumbled a little, “gonna take a mite longer that yer anticipating. We’re currently down a train an’ crew.”He sighed, “but, we’re gonna need the ammo, and trade’s good for the town.”

He spat on a hoof and held it out to the cream mare, who did the same, smacking her damp hoof to his. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Neon Dream’s nose wrinkling, somewhat diminishing his ‘hardened mercenary’ look. The deal done, Railright left the table to begin organising the train detail, informing us that it would take the rest of the day, and some of tomorrow, to get the train prepped. Meaning we would have to wait until tomorrow afternoon to head back towards the warehouse.

Roulette had indeed treated us to a lunch, the kitchen pony rustling up some hayburgers and a box of delicious 200 year old snack cakes. The radio was on in the background, the same old crooners playing over the airwaves as had been for the last couple of days. As a Sapphire Shores song faded out the voice of DJ Pon3 cut in.

“Hello children, ol’ DJ Pon3’s got a little announcement for you. Now, I don’t normally do adverts here, DJ Pon3 doesn’t bow to any sponsor, but, well, I owe a favour and let it never be said I’m not a pony of my word.”

I raised an eyebrow, looking from my lunch to the radio on the kitchen counter. Someone called in a favour from the DJ and used it to run an advert? Who would do... My head slowly rotated to look at Roulette, now sitting opposite Neon and I, a small grin on her muzzle.

“Roulette: The Wandering Weaponista, has had a restock in all your favourite ammunition, from 12 gage to .44 to anti-material rounds. You can find her out in the wastelands, so long as you aren’t looking for trouble, or you can visit her fixed outlet in New Appleoosa’s ‘Absolutely Everything’. She also wants me to add that this is thanks to our mysterious Operative who, and I quote, ‘laid a beatdown on the shiny super sentry bot between me and my merch’. So, good job Operative, and that’s us square, you crazy mare. Now to leave you with some Sweetie Bell while I do something about this Roulette induced headache.”

My frown deepened as I stared at the grin on Roulette’s face growing wider and wider as the DJ read out her advert. The chuckling from Neon Dream didn’t help.

“Look at it this way,” she said, “I’m just helping your prospects. You’re gonna need caps and you’ve got some cred as a mercenary.”

She slammed down a hoof as a strange sparkle can to her eye, “Ahh! I should have written an advert for you.” She said suddenly, “like, with a jingle and everything, ‘if you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire... The Operatives! Daa nana naaa, da na naaaaa!”

I sighed and rubbed my head, eyes screwing shut. I knew what DJ Pon3 meant when he said he had a headache dealing with Roulette. As she continued singing her jingle I managed to crack open an eye to glare at Neon Dream who had been laughing and singing along.

“This is coming out of your paycheck Kubota.”

The laughter only increased.

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.