Fallout equestria: Crimson Skies Book 1by Pepsi AddictChaptersSet Sail 0Olinea 2Welcome to Mud 3Set Sail 0I don't want to set the world on fire, I just want to st– A sharp scratch broke the crackling harmony of old world music as DJ-Pon 3's smooth voice came over the radio. "Sorry about the interruption, my little ponies, but I've just been informed of something that just brings such sadness over my heart. A new up-and-coming caravan from north of Canterlot passed by the Ponyville area last week and hasn't been seen since. Take this as a reminder, everypony. Ponyville has been raider territory since as far back as the Smile Squad’s initial raiding parties, two decades ago. Avoid the area at all costs. Now, on to the weath--" My hoof pressed to the switch inside my home, turning the radio off before I flew over to the jet controls, turning them down as low as I reasonably could to keep my home floating. The low rumble hopefully wouldn't attract any unwanted attention as it floated along the edge of Ponyville, just a few kilometers away from the coordinates the message told me to go to. A Mr. Hoovesy with a bowler hat, the machine that served as my home had been heavily modified and worked with by myself, its small owner. I’d stolen one of the limbs from a Mr. Gutsy, giving it a plasma pistol. This was the main alteration I made to it, at least from an outside perspective. The 3 camera-like eyes of the tri-limbed machine serveyed the surroundings for me. Turning its camera, I saw the many colorful decorations and defenses one might expect from a raider camp; pony heads on spikes, scrap metal walls, and the mutilated and raped bodies of the formerly mentioned caravanners. Under normal circumstances, I would bury them, but for the situation at hoof, I opted to instead lay low behind an overturned shopping cart, hoping it would provide enough cover. "Vee should be coming pretty close now," I said to myself, settling behind the cart to take a much needed break. I’d spent the last several hours hunched over my desk watching out for threats. Popping my back and stretching my transparent bloatsprite-like wings, I grabbed my mug, filling it with a drop of Sparkle Cola before continuing my journey. I came bobbing over the hill to see a little fishing boat. Rustic and worn, it looked half-ready to sink as it sat there. But my attention didn't settle on the boat for long as two figures crept from the ship onto the quaint excuse for a dock in the rural sections of Ponyville. A tall and imposing individual, not quite the size of an alicorn and with a sturdy, firm build, not unlike the statues of Big Macintosh from before the war, the buck was clearly not one to be messed with. He was a deer, too; a rare sight in Equestria by any means, but even he couldn't hold my attention, as I drifted my cameras to the presumed captain. A mare of short stature, with a mane of flowing locks and smooth, clear complexion, she was unlike anything I had ever seen. This was especially true, given that my description of her was very literal. She was made of water, ebbing from and flowing back into her constantly. The sight of her was mesmerizing as my home bobbed up and down, the subtle growling hum of the rocket piercing the quiet air. I pressed a button, giving a pre-programed wave and unmuting my microphone. "Hello,” I called, drawing the attention of the two. “Vee think vee are in thee right place, no?" The deer, the much more stoic of the two, simply turned as the water mare gave a soft smile. "If you’re here about the radio broadcast, then yes, you’re in the right place. We’re just waiting on a few others to join us before we set sail. My name’s Shimmering Raindrops, and this is Cold Hoof. "Vee are Enjin Rush. Nice te meet you." With a swivel, I brought my claw arm up to shake. Suddenly, a secondary camera picked up a target, immediately drawing my attention. Thankfully, my targeting system marked the unicorn I saw as non-hostile, prompting a wave to them and receiving a small wave back. The incoming mare was clearly trying her hardest not to be seen before she slipped in from the sidelines, coming down the hill. Slowly, others arrived. The unicorn, Aurora, rested on the ship with me. A zebra soon arrived and was let aboard with some apprehension from Raindrops, and a pegasus practically crashed near to the ship as she came in for a landing. I was apprehensive about going on this journey with her, given what I knew of the secretive pegasi enclave above the sky, but I provided a warm welcoming wave all the same. Our next and final arrival, a griffon, sat alongside the zebra, and they clearly bonded over mutual distrust for the pegasus mare. I, however, didn’t pay much attention to the others as I read the books Raindrops had aboard. Each one had its pages and cover laminated to be waterproof, and she had a lot of them. Accompanying the reading materials were maps and other interesting knick knacks, fitting for someone who planned to travel the globe. Many races listed in her notes as having worked with and studied, she had left blank or had minimal information on, including phoenix ponies, sirens, driders, moose, goats, tatzl ponies, and many, many more things. Roughly a hundred of them had space for more information, most of which I was clueless about. The pegasus was heavily augmented, with literal engines implemented into her rump, lightweight armored plating, subdermal mechanical implements, and a… dick between her legs. Really? Didn't think anyone actually had cybernetic genitalia, I thought to myself. Her name was Jet Fuel and she clearly knew what she was doing with the engine, alongside myself. The griffon of the group was evidently named Gwendlyn. She was reading Fifty Shades of Hay, something evidently recommended by Raindrops. The bird was distant during the week-long ride to the crew’s destination. Cold Hoof, the deer, was equally so, seemingly only speaking one or two words at a time, even when Jet and I worked on the ship's engines. The unicorn, Aurora, was definitely not accustomed to travel by boat. According to the captain, she was often seen throwing up over the railing. I felt a bit bad for her, thinking she had to be sea sick, despite traveling down river and not the open water. The zebra, Cross Stitch, was the only true outlier of the trip, as she stayed in her room and read books seemingly constantly, only coming out when she deemed it necessary, which was not very often. I only learned her name from Captain Raindrops, as I never seemed to be in the right place at the right time to ask her myself. Either way, most of the crew kept to themselves. There were few things any of us bonded over, the most notable being Gwen and Cross’ hatred of wings, which was mostly stemming from Gwen being wingless. The other decent amount of bonding was between myself and Jet, sharing mechanical knowledge, mostly to help improve the ship. Still, it was bonding. And it was made very clear on the first day that Cold Hoof had sailed with Raindrops before. The only one who seemed not to have a strong bond with anypony else was Aurora, but not for lack of trying. After a few days on the water, the ragtag collection of misfits passed by a section of forest. Jet saluted towards it with her wing. I would later be informed that the ruins of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns resided in those woods, debatably home to the incident that truly started the end of the world. I was about to ask her what she was saluting the trees for, but the ship suddenly jolted to the left and stopped moving up the river. Everypony that was still standing on the deck was knocked aside, which pretty much meant everypony except myself and Raindrops. As soon as everypony regained their bearings, a loud clanking was heard from below deck, and Jet and I rushed to investigate. It turned out to be a catch in the engine that drove the propeller. Combined with the jolt, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that something had caught on the propeller and locked it in place. As long as the engine continued to try turning it against its will, it would try to tear itself apart. That more specifically described the noise, as it had jumped its housing and was trying to bash a hole in the hull. It was quick work to shut off the engine and report to the captain. “Vee have a small crack in the hull, Ms. Not a big vun, but vee should still patch it before it groes.” Raindrops nodded and turned to Cold hoof, but before she could say anything, he had grabbed a small knife, clamped it between his teeth and dove overboard behind the ship without a word. We waited about a minute before he surfaced again on the port side. We were about to rush over and pull him back on deck, but a quick spell from Raindrops brought him aboard before we could reach him. “Kelp,” was the only word out of his mouth as he dumped a tangled mass of lumpy plant matter at Jet’s hooves. “Does that mean the prop is free?” I asked. He nodded silently and rejoined the captain. I ducked below deck and restarted the engine, and it ran just fine. As long as nothing was clogging it up, it seemed to run smoothly. As per my recommendation, we directed ourselves over to the bank, where we could work on patching the small hole. It wouldn’t be long; it was nothing more than a sheet of plate steel, a rubber mat to act as a gasket, and a few rivets. Between Jet and myself, it would be a five-minute delay. Once ashore, we set straight to work. Most of our time spent on the repair was under the supervision of the captain, who kept making sure we were doing things right. With three rivets to go, I happened to look up, just in time to see Cold Hoof rush to the other side of the boat. I cannot attest to what happened next exactly, but I can guess. First, there was a gurgling, then a few impacts, and finally a rap-pap-pap as three shots in rapid succession gave way to silence. “Finished?” asked Raindrops, turning away from us. “All taken care of,” answered the voice of Gwendlyn. “No more problem over there.” We finished our riveting and climbed back aboard. At the same time, Cold Hoof was coming up the other side. He had some manner of mutated creature draped over his shoulder. At first, I wondered if it was some kind of bug, as it seemed to have a shell, but with how it was dripping… Some kind of lobster? A crab? “And where do you think you’re taking that thing?” huffed Raindrops, returning to the helm to steer us back down the river. “Galley,” he replied, dragging the beast below deck. Gwendlyn chuckled, spinning her pistol around in her claw, then pulling back her duster and holstering it. We spent the rest of the day without much incident. Things were quiet. I’d completely forgotten to ask Jet about her salute to the trees and was about to go to bed when Raindrops invited us to an impromptu group dinner. “To adventure, and to seeing what is out there, waiting for us,” Raindrops said, clinking a glass of wine before sipping it. It seemed that everyone had been summoned, with the boat just sort of anchored for a short while. I guess it might have been a good idea to have a seat and take in everypony. We’d never all been gathered at once before now. My seat was not made for a Robot such as my home. Mr Hoovesys are not really designed to sit in chairs. I simply moved the furniture back away from the table, to an out-of-the-way corner and left my home hovering in the place it had been sitting. Across from me sat Jet Fuel with Cold Hoof on her left and Cross on his left. My side of the table housed Gwen on my left and Aurora past her, and finally, Raindrops herself sat at the end of the table. The atmosphere was needlessly dense for a moment as I simply analized our food. “Is this that thing I took down this afternoon?” asked Gwen, prodding at it with a fork. “Are you sure about this?” “I checked it myself,” answered Raindrops. “It matches perfectly a description of a creature I’ve seen roasting in Olinea. Since we’re only a few days out, it makes sense that we’d find one here, as they tend to like riverbanks.” “What is it, exactly?” asked Aurora. Raindrops shrugged. “I forgot what they called it, and the name in my book is smudged. You’ll be fine, dig in!” It seemed to be crab of some description, with proportions I could never realistically finish. My arms had to take small bits of the food to slide it in through a small tray I’d taken from a cd player, so eating wasn't going to be quick. Our drinks were varied, with myself simply having Sparkle Cola in my home, While Jet and the others, save for Cross, had various alcohols. I was never a drinker, myself, and couldn't tell what they were having in specific. Eventually, the silence, broken only by the sounds of forks on plates and chewing, managed to wear down on me. I pressed my button to unmute my mic. “So… Vee think the food is delicious, he he….” My nervous chuckle, in fact my entire statement, didn't prompt any responses from the others. As my cameras looked around the table, Gwen was glaring daggers at Jet. Jet was doing the same in response, and Raindrops seemed content to let us sit and eat in uncomfortable silence. Aurora was right in her boat with that sentiment. Cross was the exception. The almost meek-seeming zebra looked uncomfortable even sitting there in silence. She stood up with her plate, trying to leave the entire experience and retreat to her room where she seemed to spend all of her time. As she did so, Cold Hoof put a hoof to her shoulder, easing her back to her seat. He gave her a reassuring smile, that he was not going to let any harm befall her here, no matter how uncomfortable it seemed. I looked down at the button and realized that there was an error. My mic had never left its mute, and nopony had heard a word I’d said. No wonder they had no response. “Fucking every Queen damn time!” I spoke aloud, flicking the switch on and off several times before finally holding the button down speaking. “Vee think this food is vonderful, but vee vere thinking vee don't really know you all so vell.” There we go, I thought to myself as I released the button with a hopeful smile. Now that should break some of this tension. Cross spoke next. “Well… I agree the food was wonderful, Mrs. Raindrops.” Raindrops hummed out a grunt in response. She wasn’t actually eating anything, just lifting her wine glass to her lips. I wouldn’t call it drinking, per se, as the moment the wine touched her, it just began to bleed into her body, swirling around with everything else, giving her a bit of a rose tint. “Well, thank you, but I'm afraid that your praise isn't mine to take. Cold Hoof cooked the food,” she said, gesturing to her companion. Looking over to the deer in question, he didn't seem too interested in the compliment, simply eating and nodding along with what she said. I wondered if this might be a deer thing, or just something having to do with him, specifically. Most ponies I’d met loved praise, and sometimes would try to coax it out, and he’d just brushed it off as if he was expected to do a good job. “Well vee are, at the very least, glad to be out of Eqvestria,” I continued. “Vat are you folks doing this for?” Hopefully that was not a very invasive question. I didn’t mean to pry, but I was a bit curious, to be sure. “I'm a wanted fugitive,” answered Jet right away, tearing off a chunk of crabmeat. “Enclave want to brand me a Dashite, and the best way I see to keep that from happening is fucking off entirely. I figured I might as well make some money in the process. Even if that means I have to work with a zebra…” “Ha!” laughed Gwen, jabbing her fork in Jet’s direction. Of all the shit things I expected of you, a racist wasn’t among them, Air Head!” “Air Head?!” shouted Jet, slamming her hooves on the table as she stood up. “I'll show you what for, Bird Brain!” Not wanting to involve ourselves in the conflict, Aurora and Cross stood up, and the three of us took a step back. Well, a strafe back in my case. Cold Hoof stepped forward, about to separate the two of them, but it turned out he didn’t need to. The captain had whipped some watery tendrils around their wrists and froze them suddenly, locking the two in place. The ice chilled the entire room. Even sitting on top of my thrusters, I could feel the chill permeating my shell. We all turned to the hostess, who cleared her throat. “I will not tolerate in-fighting amongst yourselves if we're going to be working together. Like it or not, you’ll have to be working with whoever is available. If you can’t handle that, I can throw you overboard and find somepony else, but I don’t want to be forced to do that, so just chill.” She looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh at her own pun. I have to wonder if the others actually found it funny, because nopony laughed. Thinking back, it may have been the mood. Her ice returned to a liquid state, rapidly returning into her body. Such a fascinating creature, I thought to myself. “Now, I think Enjin has the right idea. You all need to learn about each other, or it won’t be raiders, mutants or animals that spell our doom. As a sign of good faith, I’ll start. I am a kelpie; a water elemental of sorts, and have control over the three states of liquid. I can even change what liquids I'm made of, should I have enough on hoof. I don’t much care for conflict, especially aboard my vessel, but I wield some pretty mean spells, so watch yourselves.” “Well as much as I dislike it, me and Air Head over here are basically in the same boat,” grunted Gwen, almost slamming her ass back into her chair. “It's a Talon Company matter, not worth going into detail about.” She finished her food and pulled out her revolver. It was made for griffon claws specifically, and looked quite heavy, with an intricate engraving of her name over the barrel: Gwendlyn. Aurora cleared her throat after Gwen finished speaking. “I'm simply looking to find a safe place to settle down outside of Equestria,” she said a bit softly. “I’m tired of waking up and wondering if I’m going to be shot today. I feel like that’s not too much to ask for.” Cold and Raindrops exchanged worried glances and frowns. “Well,” started Raindrops, “I'm afraid where we're going is not a suitable home for anyone. You may have to wait quite a while before we head to a place safe enough to meet such a goal. Olinea is about as close to Tartarus as you can be, aside from actually going there.” That made her ears droop back down. I didn’t think her desire was all that unreasonable. My own mind wondered what could ever be deadly enough to be comparable to Tartarus. The others simply looked amongst themselves at the revelation. The only thing that I can think would be bad enough to be equated to Tartarus would be Canterlot. Aurora was the first to depart from the table after that. Cross wasn't far behind. As Gwen and Jet continued their dagger-glaring, I thought to myself, This is going to be an interesting adventure. Either way, it was better than being home under the queen. Author's Note Level 4, Game start Olinea 2Morning came soon after our dinner, and with it, our swift arrival in Olinea’s shores. As the others geared up and equipped to set out, an ominous red mist blanketed parts of the forest further in, past the waters edge. I loaded my plasma pistol from the pipbuck-turned-desk in my Mr. Hoovesy, and that was all the preparation I had to do. The others were all much better equipped than myself in some sense, but I was a breezie in a portable house, so it's debatable who was more ready. Jet, the pegasus, was only wearing Enclave flight gear, or maybe a uniform? I'm gonna go with the latter. Either way, it covered her white coat and accentuated her bright red mane while fitting around her cybernetics, most notably the engines that nearly replaced her ass. Her weapons were indisputably something I knew well; twin-linked recharger rifles on a battle saddle, two laser weapons that used a magical hyper-breeder, absorbing ambient magic to charge their shots. It provided effectively infinite ammo with what some would say is long charging time after each shot. As for being twin-linked, what I mean is that they both shot at the same time with one action. Cross, our resident zebra, had a simple hunting rifle. It mostly looked like a hoof-me-down used for killing rats and other varmints and it clearly wasn't her pride and joy. That accolade belonged to the numerous potions and herbs bulging her bags out. When I’d found her gearing up, she was pulling herbs out of a crack in the wall. She seemed the type to find them in the strangest places. Gwen the griffon was the embodiment of a western outlaw, or perhaps sheriff, wearing nothing but leather armor and a duster with hat to match, her revolver in its holster. When I ran into her, she was reading a power pony comic book. lightly chuckling at it while poorly hiding it in a copy of Fifty Shades of Hay. I chose not to comment on it. Our last guest, the unicorn Aurora's room was locked when I was making my original rounds, but when she came out she had on a leather jacket and some leg warmers, with a .32 auto pistol on her hip. Together, she and myself made our way to the deck overlooking the water with the others up here already, save for Cold Hoof, the first mate and an original resident of Olinea. Only a minute later, we came to a clearing on the water. We were in Olinea. We had been traveling at brisk pace through the forest of skinny white and black trees, with Jet flying above and Shimmering Raindrops, our kelpie captain, guiding us forward. Cold Hoof had stayed with the ship. I'd overheard Raindrops telling him to flee the area if we weren't back in a month. The forest had been quiet for several hours. Even on the targeting system of my pipbuck, E.F.S. (Eyes Forwards Sparkle) hadn't picked up anything, save for myself. If It had, it’d have outlined them, and it worked several meters out. It hadn't picked up anything living, but I had definitely picked up on something. We all had; the deep red mist. It was like the smoke from a flare at its most concentrated point, but it was everywhere, traveling like a fog through the forest and never staying stagnant. The space it inhabited and where we walked through, well, flew through in my case, was dead. Nothing lived here, save for the trees that clearly clung to life with all their might. “I wouldn't go near this stuff,” Raindrops grimaced. “According to Cold Hoof, you'd wish you were inside Canterlot, as it’d be a more pleasant death.” She held her map, trying to direct us to a town she had marked down. That was all that Cross and I needed to dissuade us from touching it, despite the intrigue it bred. Traversing the wood, we came across several robots, rusted and long-since decayed in the fog, wispy and dark as it hazed areas around it without the actual dust being there. It was an optical effect, bleeding it into clean areas in my vision as it grew denser and denser the further we went, slowing us down to a crawl trying to navigate the mist without stepping into it. Eventually, we did come upon a clearing with the largest cloud of it we'd seen yet, so dense it couldn't be seen through as it stretched miles with seemingly no breaks in it. “Fuck, this stuff’s everywhere,” proclaimed Jet. Funnily enough, she could just fly over the cloud and was dealing with the least of it. “Just be patient. We’ll make our way through this in time,” sighed Raindrops, clearly feeling tired by this point, having traveled for hours on end. I couldn't lie, I was actually pretty tense. Simply the thought of being surrounded on all sides by something supposedly more dangerous than Pink Cloud was a harrowing thought. Beep, Beep, Beep! The alarm for a hostile target went off in my little robot housing. For the others outside, it was too faint to hear, but sitting less than a few inches from it, it made me jump with a sudden shock. Three targets were approaching with rapid speed. It wasn't long after my defenses picked the three up that Jet and Gwen noticed them. Two were land bound, huge bulky deer of some description. The third, moving much faster with wings, was of a sleek, slim build. Quickly, I knew that the targeting reticle wasn't going to matter, as I’d see the flying deer in full detail if I didn't start moving, and quickly. “Vee have incoming!!” I yelled, hitting the gas of my engine and beginning to fly myself off as my plasma pistol came rounding up with a click. The others turned and ran as Jet, like a blur, picked up Cross, darting into the woods before coming back for Aurora, and with some fuss and strain, Gwen. I realized she probably couldn't carry me as Raindrops created some ice pathways, sliding and skating off towards the others that’d been carried away alongside the fog, leaving just me as Jet returned. And here I thought I was fairly quick. “Vee don't think you are going to be able to carry our home, Jet,” I called out as the two of us rushed away as quickly as we could, which was thankfully faster than our foes. The two land-based ones faded from view, with the third completely disappearing. We thought we might be in the clear, until a blur of white and blue steel collided with Jet at ludicrous speeds. Dirt flew back at me from the two colliding with the ground as I skidded to a stop at the sight of it, watching Jet being dragged along the ground and slammed against a tree hard enough the old dead timber visibly shifted. Steadying myself, I brought my plasma pistol up with a click, firing as the mechanical enemy reared its hoof back to punch Jet. The ball of plasma connected against the side of the machine as its hoof punched straight through the tree, sending wood flying like shredded paper. The deer was, as mentioned, slim in build, with legs thinner than a normal pony’s and a pair of jagged wings on its backside. It had antlers that arced with magical energy, glowing and pulling sparks of light into a singular high point between them, glowing a vibrant icy blue. My second shot fired, knocking some plating off the rusted and blackened machine’s backside. Its tail had long since been severed as holes decorated its body, showing off the intricate and delicate machinery beneath as it charged its beam. Jet’s hind hooves curled up to her chest, wings splaying out. With a strong kick forward, her propulsion kicked on with a sputtering start, sending ash and smoke billowing out as rust and filth burned straight off her robotic adversary. For half a second, she stayed in that place before shooting up alongside the tree out of E.F.S. range. The deer’s gaze followed her as a third plasma shot burst from my pistol, grazing past the machine's head and drawing its attention. It hadn't seemed to slow down at all. The beam stopped growing, a large ball of pure, concentrated glowing blue magic sitting there arcing with energy like solar flares on a star. “Oh shit, shit, shit fuck,” was all I could say, gripping my lever system and trying to take manual control over the slow autopilot. If I could manage that, then at least I’d have a chance to dodge the soon-to-come blast. STHZOOOM!! The crackle of energy shot forth, settling to a nice hum and traveling at incomprehensible speeds as it polished the top of my robot’s head, almost hitting and surely destroying my metal top hat. It moved to direct the still very active beam downwards, but a certain pegasus had some payback in mind. Jet soared forth, kicking its head. Like a crack of thunder and lightning, it threatened to tear wire from metal and head from body as the kick quickly, with acrobatic expertise became a choking grapple. Jet’s head, mere centimeters from the pulsating ball of energy frying the fur off of her cheek, held on as her thrusters kept the pair drilling into the ground. That is to say, her thrusters were digging a progressively deeper trench into the ground. With each bouncing smack, they bored into the ground as I struggled to keep even a fraction of the pace, until finally, with several thundering cracks, the duo smashed through some trees. By the time I arrived at the scene, it was still alive, but its limbs and wings were mangled and a foreleg was missing. Antlers, too, one of which was in Jet’s mouth. She spit it out, opening fire with her battle saddle several times as I watched her peppering the robot in laser fire until her guns needed to reload. She started off and I gave chase, giving the deer a final blast of plasma to the head as my goodbye. The air was thick as Jet’s wings took flight and my machine-turned-suit thrusted upward, bringing me quickly behind her. Flying above the mist let me admire the icy creation that Shimmering Raindrops had created in her own breakneck sprint to flee. Long, elaborate curving slides of ice, thinly supported with clear pillars connected to the ground as the red mist slowly began to overtake the further ones. The ice was cracking, but not melting. It was being killed as the fog pierced it and eroded what was there, until it all came crumbling down. The fog didn't seem to care what it touched. It would erode it, as though it had consumed it. Jet stayed relatively close, bouncing between myself and the rest of the party further up in the woods, she never bothered landing, as the only times she ever seemed to stop was when she skidded on clouds to turn pace and leap back towards the party. She seemed to be training. Training, despite the blood I’d eventually started to notice staining the ground beneath where she was flying. As I floated, I’d activated the autopilot and set it to follow Jet as I reloaded my plasma pistol. Well, actually, my home did. All I did in the process was hit a button before coming back to my couch, one of few things I’d brought with me from the fae realm as finding a replacement of some sort wasn't high on my to-do list if ever I could help it. The setup I had wasn't too dissimilar to a studio apartment with couch doubling as bed, my pipbuck tv/desk, a chute to use the restroom and a tunnel carefully crafted deeper into the robot to manage the engine and what little storage space I had without considering a carry bag I had affixed like a backpack to the back of my home. Even then, I always found space lacking. I was an inventor, always collecting and tinkering. Some in my situation would look for outside sources of storage, but I couldn't. To go outside was just such a… horrifying prospect. Even if an escape chute does exist for such a thing, hopefully I'd never have to use it. It wasn't long before we met up with the rest of the group, passing by a long-rotted sign. Moldy and decayed, the letters were barely legible. “Blue Hollow Campgrounds.” The Campground’s gate was complemented by a second metal road sign, rusted and ruined to the point it truly was illegible, aside from the arrow pointing West that read “25 Miles.” The campgrounds themselves were barren for the most part, with five wooden cabins here at the entrance, though presumably, there was a much larger run of land to camp on. Their signs, like most old-world writing seemed to be around here, were faded and destroyed. Most of the group followed Gwen into the first building, with Cross going around back, pulling out a tent as she did. I suppose she intended to rough it. Jet followed her out, but I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, exactly. I saw Cross reach into her bag and pull out a roll of bandages and a bottle of some kind, but when she looked through the window, I felt a bit guilty about staring and pretended to inspect the windowsill. She didn’t look convinced, but I did turn away, regardless. Looking around the room we’d entered, it seemed to be the lodge of the head honcho of the campgrounds, being nearly equivalent to a real home. My robot drifted to the corner, keeping eye on Cross through the window as, for the first time in a while, silence was broken. “I'm going to see what all I can find in the other buildings,” Jet said firmly, addressing the entire group. She’d just come back in, wearing a few bandages lightly soaked in whatever fluid Cross had used. Healing, perhaps? She had been bleeding earlier. “What, and take all the cool shit you find for yourself?” piped Gwendlyn, turning to face the mare. She stood taller than Jet, even despite her relatively small stature for a griffon based on what I’d seen of the Talons. “Not on my watch, you don’t. I’m comin’ with!” Jet did her best to brush her off with an eye roll and snort, heading out the door and fighting with the flightless avian the whole way. I simply relaxed. Or at least, I tried to. My home was everything I had, and it came inches from complete annihilation not even an hour ago. A roll of the dice, and I wouldn’t be here right now, burned to less than ashes by a foreign nation’s automated abomination. The thought shook me to my core. Death was… it wasn't usually on the table for me. Even now, it wasn't what really scared me about it. Hell, it might be preferable if what I dreaded most had come to pass. What if my home; my casing were to be destroyed? Everything that was Enjin Rush save for my flesh and tiny bones would be gone. Ever since I’d left home, I'd been in this robot. Without it, I wouldn't be Enjin Rush. I’d be no-one. My thoughts on the existential mush had overpowered me long enough. Before long, the door slammed back open with the pair who entered having changed their demeanor and attitude drastically. Were they drunk? The immediate answer was no, but the barrel they were carrying between them was about to change that. ”I present Keg of Ale!” proudly proclaimed Jet. Gwen, with a smirk, stood next to the barrel, leaning on it. “I found it. If you have any praise in reserve, I–” “Yep! Reserve any praise for me, Jet! I know, I know, I'm the greatest!” “Like hell you are!” This went on for far longer than it needed to. I began to envy the seemingly ever-wiser Cross Stitch, who’d chosen to brew tea above a small fire outside. Eventually, the dick-measuring contest was won by Jet, who finally decided to start pouring everybody drinks. My cup was perfectly sized, or at least, for a normal pony, so I had to bring tiny drops of it in through my disk tray if I wanted to drink it. Ultimately, like usual, I didn't even finish a single small cup. Ale wasn't high on my list of preferred beverages, was the main issue. The burn in my throat just told me to stop, and I did. A drinking competition almost started up, but when the idea was presented, Shimmering was already going in for her fourth mug. She was seemingly unfazed, apart from her body turning a stained yellow color. Despite the water diluting it, she was turning into alcohol. Until the eighth cup, I was personally wondering if she could even become intoxicated. After all, she was the fluid itself. How impure could her body really be? But then she did. It was like a switch had been flipped and she was finally tipsy, something she seemed to realize almost immediately. She stopped and set down her mug. She’d long since won the drinking competition, perhaps before it even started. And so, the night drew on. Aurora said she had drank too much, too quickly and started to feel ill, so Captain Raindrops took her into the next room to sleep it off. I opted to stay with the other two, just in case they started fighting again. The newest member of our party, “Keg of Ale” as it had been named, was still not empty when they passed out. His name had been painted on the side by a drunk-as-fuck Jet, reading as “KEg o AIE.” I guess writing the G and L as capital letters like the rest was too much work for her in her state. By the time morning rose on us, half the barrel was gone and Raindrops, if her name was even fitting now, was curled up inside the barrel. Jet had left by the time I woke up and set down my mug. Gwen was passed out, strewn across a table, sleeping like she was dead, and Cross was outside, taking down her tent. “Raindrops? Vee should be moving soon, no?” “Mhmm, yeah, waitin’ on Jet,” she slurred out as Arora stumbled from upstairs, stretching her back. She hadn’t taken a major part in last evening’s festivities, if you could call it that. She was either not able to hold her liquor, or simply didn't like its taste, like me. “Well, that was a fun night,” she proclaimed, trotting down the stairs. “Where is everypo-- everybody?” she corrected herself, prompting a hoof raise from inside of the barrel. “Jet has flown off,” I answered. “Vee believe she should be back soon.” Suddenly, like the devils of Tartarus bursting through the gates, the door flew open and Jet came trotting back in, wings coming back to rest at her sides. Her coat was still clearly a tad damp, but overall, the filth of battle had been washed from her. “Don't go west, unless you want to explode.” Evidently, she read the confusion on Aurora’s face and followed it up. “Spider mines, basically. The four-legged little bastards almost had me with how fast they were, but hey, I was faster.” I made sure to make a note of that in my pipbuck’s data tab, right alongside deadly flying laser deer in Olinean threats. Big, ugly crabs, too. “Whelp, now that everyone’s back, somebody grab Gwen, so we can head out,” groaned Raindrops. Coming to her hooves, she almost slipped into a puddle, by the looks of it, before freezing solid. Well, almost solid. I could see the liquids sloshing in her various guts from her stomach to uh… privates. “Buck, that's weird,” I thought to myself. That brought to mind another realization. Discounting Jet’s stallionhood, I was technically the only male in the party, and I was small enough to fit in a pony’s hoof. It was, dramatically speaking, quite ironic, honestly. “Alright. Well, I should be ready,” Raindrops said, clearly doing her best to sober up as Jet picked up Gwen. She was still out cold and, notably, her hat fell to the floor. Jet bent down and picked up the hat, placing it on her own head, wearing it as we went out the door, walking with a confident stride. It was like the additional accessory just made her better in some way. She certainly acted with higher confidence and a self-assured attitude as we walked, something I honestly thought was impossible, until now. Drifting along, we began heading northward. The campgrounds weren't too far from a town, according to Raindrops’ map. I drifted back to talk to Aurora. The unicorn had been distant and reserved today. I barely knew anything about her, and I figured now was as good a time as any to change that. “Hey, there. Do ye mind if vee join you?” I asked, happily waving to draw her attention. She smiled and nodded as she looked up. “Oh, yes, that’d be quite alright,” was all she replied, continuing to walk at pace. I thought to compliment her in some way to provoke conversation, but she was so… nothing. There was nothing to compliment. She was about as close to forgettable as one could be. I suppose that can be a good skill in the wasteland, but it was a bit off-putting. “So, vee understand you are, eh, looking to find a new home, yes?” Again, she nodded, but finally a conversation started. “Yes, I've moved into living away from home; spreading my wings, I guess you could say. I'm looking for a place to settle down now, maybe have a family.” “You don't hear that too often in the Vasteland,” I remarked. “Maybe not the Equestrian Wasteland, but we're not in Equestria anymore, now are we, Enjin?” I let out a soft chuckle. “No, I suppose not.” Welcome to Mud 3Author's Note this chapter is from Jets perspective Edited by Kiernan Welcome to Mud 3 The trek north seemed to take a millennium, navigating through the winding woods and avoiding the blood-red mist that permeated the lands of Olinea. To say it was a tiresome experience was probably fair. I’d say I had it the worst out of everyone, with me and our griffon friend having to fly at such a slow pace that I’d just resigned myself to walking. At least, we had the luxury of listening to the faint, staticy audio drama of Dr. Hooves emanating out of Enjin’s chrome dome. The radio play had some great and terrible moments, not that I was listening that closely, and at one point, Aurora made the grave mistake of sparking conversation with Enjin on the audio drama. Now I had a portion of my brain cramped with Dr. Hooves knowledge, as well as Enjin’s opinions on all of it. Thankfully, they ended the flood of knowledge dense enough to fill a wiki around the halfway point of our few-mile-trek, having been eclipsed by our trot. I wasn't saved from knowing Enjin’s preferred entries in the series being the stories of the many robotic races of the series; whether the robot brains from another universe gone mad or the cyber-zebras that sought to kill the titular Dr. Hooves and his companions. He loved them all; that much was obvious, though he couldn't relent on the trivia about his favorite entries where said cyber-zebras were first introduced in the “modern” era of the radio drama. As I trotted along and hoped for the mist to clear up and let me fly, it did no such thing. This left me to my thoughts, primarily of home. Well, my former home, and with it, my cybernetic enhancements that I hoped didn't classify me as more machine then mare… or pony, given the addition between my legs. Thankfully, I wasn't allotted a lot of time to think about that before my eyes set upon our destination and my hoof gave Enjin’s chrome dome a good knocking. “Vee are awake, vee’re awake! You can stop vith the tapping!" he called out, the crackle of static making his microphone peak painfully in our collective ears, sparing only Shimmering Raindrops. Cross seemed to be the most affected. She was the first zebra I’d seen outside of a textbook, and I hadn't talked to her at all thus far. It makes you wonder just how much of a prewar textbook might have been correct about them. With a wet clap of hooves splashing fluid, Shimmering called our attention, save for Gwen’s. She, for the last few minutes, had resigned herself to sleeping, dragged by Aurora on a feed sack she’d scavenged from the cabins. “Alright, before we do anything, I need you lot to split up and scout the town. See if they have any hostility towards any of our group before we head in as a whole.” I shrugged at that, turning first to Cross, but then second-guessing the decision, turning to something only a tad less familiar. “Aurora, you and me?” I asked, prompting her to look at Gwen. She was about to speak, but was cut off by Raindrops. “I'll keep an eye on the griffon on that hill over there,” she said, nodding in the direction of the land. Before continuing, I had a split-second idea, first. Swiping Gwen’s hat off her face, I flicked the dust off of it with a quick jerk of my head and threw it up in the air to hopefully land on my own head. By the fourth attempt, I gave up, scooping it up with my hoof and plopping the now just a bit more worn sheriff hat on my head. Now I was ready, despite the curious raised eyebrow Aurora was giving me and Cross Stitch’s indifference. “Well, I suppose if Enjin and Mrs. Cross are going to pair themselves up, I can go with you.” Cross simply nodded in agreement, not giving Enjin a chance to speak up. I started trotting at more than a brisk pace, afraid I’d end up saddled with Cross Stitch and experience an awkward silence for the rest of the hours to come. Looking back, sure enough, my plan to escape said fate worked. Aurora followed behind me, making sure to follow the path, unlike myself. I’d skidded along the dirt into the mud of the streets, a detail about the town she visibly disliked on approach. Shimmering Raindrops stood, watching us head into town before turning to Cross and Enjin heading off to the other end of the settlement, writing something in one of her waterproof books. The town's shape was a bit odd to me. It was organized like J, only it had a shorter neck. The letter was on its side with the hook going under the text line, and there was a sharp jutting line from the top. Like I said, weird. Aurora and I took the jutted length that seemed to be the main road. It was lined with, notably, a bar and the largest building in town, while the others took the tip of the hook. A sheriff’s office and homes along the street turned to businesses until the corner where our paths merged. I didn't gaze on the town any longer to collect more details before turning to look at Aurora and gauge her, all without missing a beat with my hooves stepping backwards. Also, why in the name of Luna’s gaped rectum was walking backwards so difficult? “I have a hat, and I look badass in it!” I boasted, walking backwards and looking my unicorn tagalong in the face. She looked at me with several levels of disappointment, making me frown, albeit a bit flatly and dramatically. “For someone your age, you act quite childish, you know,” she said, confirming that my antics were prompting a rise out of her. “So she isn't some emotionless, stone-faced stick in the mud. Good.” I quickly thought to myself as I flipped around. My integrated ass engines turned to the unicorn as I dug my hooves into the muddy street. “Wanna race to the first building?” I quickly asked, looking back to her under my partially metal wings to a worried look. As she went to speak and raise a hoof, presumably to stop me, I cut her off. “Oh well, see you in town!” The first building was about ten yards away as I snapped my face forward, narrowed my eyes, and lifted my wings up and forward. Slamming them back and down, I stomped my rear leg to the side. Fire shot out from my engine, first orange and then blue, sending me rocketing forward down the muddy street. For the first ten feet or so, my wings splayed back out and I tried to pick up my hooves from slipping and splaying out under me, slinging mud all over the place. This attempt at stabilizing and picking up didn't work that well. Though, considering this was the second unsanctioned use of the cybernetic hip, waist and ass thrusters that had ever occurred, I counted it as a personal achievement to have made it just over seven yards before my face met the mud-slickened street. I could practically feel the painful recoil and wince Aurora made behind me, however the pain of my teeth dragging along the muddy ground, the crushing of my nose, and the hard roll and tumble my body made, bending my neck and spine to send me bouncing and flipping into the porch of the bar, definitely hurt worse. I lay still in the mud like a dead bird for a little bit with a splitting headache, twitching wings, and crushed cyber nuts. Then, the still very weird sensation of a unicorn's telekinesis lifting me made me shake a bit uncomfortably. Not that it was noticeable against the firm but physically undetectable sensation. I obviously knew it was Aurora picking me up, but looking down and seeing her as she sat me on my hooves was a nice confirmation. My entire front was caked with mud, making my pristine white fur and the years of good care that had come with it a horrible loss in both beauty and time. Even if I didn't care too deeply for the former, my mom had hammered it into my head that you had to look good when talking to important ponies, and even more so when showing off. So the crash was a dent to my ego, almost as big a dent as the pegasus face-shaped hole in the planks of the very hard porch. Not only was I now a mess, but I had made an ass of myself. I trotted over to the dent. There was a crumpled-up, filth-covered brown hat that'd been turned even browner somehow buried in that slop. Tugging it up with my teeth, a glob of nasty mud fell out. I rolled my eyes, hoping that Gwen wouldn't cause too much of a fuss over this. I lifted a wing, using my feathers like a griffon’s claws and slapped my hat into place, patting it down and wiggling it a bit. My red and orange bitonal parted mane gained new brown sludge streaks as I wiped my face with my wings, especially my eyes and as far up into my nose as I could, before flicking the mud off my wings and hacking up a loogie of the shit. As for the rest of my body, I was thankfully covered in my traditional dark gray and black flight uniform. As far as I was concerned, nothing of value had been tarnished in regards to that. I turned to Aurora, who was simply watching me with a look of intrigue. “Alright, I think that's as much as I'm gonna be able to manage on my own. Cast that dirt-remover spell of yours.” Aurora gave me the weirdest look at that request. “D-dirt-remover spell?” she asked, cocking her head as we both just stood out in the mud in broad daylight. Thankfully, it seemed like a smaller than tiny community. Of course, that also meant that word would travel like gold on the gossip mill. “Yeah, you know; the swirly-whish-swoosh dirt picker-upper and tossing spell,” I said with exasperation and confusion. “Did land-lovers call it something else?” That's what I was assuming at this point, but I’d seen plenty of unicorns cast the spell in the S.P.P. tower where I was being kept during and after the surgeries. “I, uh… Yeah, I have no clue what you’re talking about,” she flatly stated to my dismay. With a groan and a snort, I turned to the bar, the first building we came to on the street. Nopony was outside, but there was a decent enough commotion heard inside to let me know that if I went in first and didn't make a good impression, I’d be screwed; up mud-covered creek without wings. “Aurora, you’re going in first,'' I stated flatly, hoping the unicorn would just go along with it. She stepped up with me, both of us still standing in the mud before the steps as she gave me the latest look of suspicion. Her raised eyebrow prompted an added bonus to entice her, as much as it hurt me. “Here, you can even borrow the hat.” At that, I slapped my sole appearance-saver on her head, giving her a mud mane. I was very happy that her horn stuck out the front instead of stabbing through it. Her face was immediately one of discomfort at the cold, muddy hat being placed on her. But unlike one of my former superiors, she didn't yell at me. She only sighed and started heading into the building. I followed her as my wings were lifted up, taking my body with them. I soon realized what was happening. “W-wait, Aurora, I meant for you to go in and talk for us!” Reasoning with her was impossible at this point, and I was flipped upside down and carried needlessly painfully, like a pegasus-shaped tote bag into the single door of the structure. The remains of a screen door served in place of the doorway as I was carried in. I’d failed my mother. I knew I was going to be a laughing stock as soon as I went in. And then, nothing happened. A second later, I was dropped on my backside, and ow, my wings. That said, nopony had reacted to us entering, the way I looked, or the thud of my cybernetic body against the hardwood flooring. “Seems you were worked up over nothing. There's nopony here.” Sure enough, looking around as I pulled myself up, Aurora was telling the truth. All the commotion I’d heard was a terminal playing some sort of show; a western set in a bar for the screen in question, something not quite up my alley; more Gwen’s thing. I went to say something, but my words caught in my throat like the bullet jamming in the revolver on the show. Something just felt incorrect to me, even as a non-western fan. The reason I shushed up was a door opening behind the bar and a shadowy figure stepping out. A tall equine? A mammal for sure. He came to the bar, whistling and wearing nothing but the light brown fur he was born with and with gemstones, trinkets and the like hanging from his antlers. Aurora must have picked up my stupidity regarding what he was. Leaning closer to me, she whispered, “He's a deer. You know, like Cold Hoof on the boat. They’re the primary species that live in this part of the world.” “Yeah, yeah, I knew that!” I'd honestly forgotten about Cold Hoof entirely. Focusing back onto the presumed bartender deer before us, I trotted forward. He pressed a button on the terminal and a big green volume bar grew smaller by the second as he turned to us, now that the western show had stopped interrupting. Sadly, I was somewhat interested in it by now. Evidently, the main character had the sheriff and the government after him, specifically some bounty hunter they'd hired named “The Dragon,” a tough son-of-a-bitch with a draw so fast, it made lightning strike and thunder boom with his bullets. “Hey!” He didn't respond, just looking at us. Aurora awkwardly shifted and the deer grabbed himself a cigarette from under the bar, lighting it with a blow torch that was inexplicably sitting at the bar. I opted to look at the drink menu displayed behind the buck. He finally spoke up, a rasp of damn near ghoulish quality in how much it sounded like a cheese grater. “You gals are an awful long way from home, ain't ya?” It took me a moment to respond, as I was transfixed on some of his menu. There were fairly normal drinks, and then there was stuff like whatever a Balefire Shot was. Its name made it sound a bit less-than-appealing; that's all I knew. Aurora cleared her throat, standing up straight and dignified. It was kinda like how the more up-their-own-ass unicorns I’d known stood and walked. “Yes that's right, we were hoping to perhaps procure a place to stay for the night as well as information about the area; directions and things of that nature.” Why had her voice become softer? Aurora, from my limited exposure to the unicorn, wasn't a loud creature or quite as bombastic as me, but she'd taken clear care to shift her voice's pitch and tone. In a way, it was just more noble, I guess was the best way to put it. The buck took in a puff of smoke, blowing out a cancerous cloud. “Well, foreigners, we ain't put up any sorta inns, ‘less ya count the jail cells other side a’ town. ‘S long as ya don't end up on Joseph’s bad side, y'all’ll be fine.” He finished by taking another draw of his cigarette. Who names their kid “Joseph,” was my main takeaway from the statement. “He’s the sheriff, I assume?” I asked. He nodded back. “Yep. Now, I’d love to tell you about little ol’ Mud’s history, from campgrounds to little shit hole, but I don't like Mud the town, nor the shit you’re covered in, lasses, so ‘less you lookin for a drink or a fuck, the big wigs in charge are in the next building over.” Looking to Aurora, she nodded at the bar keep. “Well then, that sounds like our cue to be heading off then, right, Jet?” I continued to try and figure her out. She was probably a unicorn from a more well-put-together town, maybe even a stable-dweller. Coming back out to the street, we headed due north along the street as directed, coming to where the mud path turned and opened up to the rest of the town. Beside the mayoral building on the bend were two other buildings; a church and a whore house, with a hoofball court sandwiched between the two. Directly across from them in the bend sat a landowner’s office and a little zebra filly kicking her hooves as she sat on the bar of the tollbooth-like structure. Focusing back on the municipal building, Aurora was already knocking on the door. I quickly trotted after her. “Come on in, door’s unlocked!” called a female voice out from inside. I promptly pulled the door open wide, letting Aurora and then myself enter the well-maintained and decorated main floor. A secretary desk sat not too far in, with a cute little doe sitting behind it. She opened her mouth to speak as a little red light on her desk blinked repeatedly. The next thing I knew, there was a shotgun braced against the desk. Her cheek rested firmly against the stock, not in a very sustainable or comfortable position, but all the same she was aiming a shotgun at us. My reflexive reaction was to flick my wings up, back, and just a few hair degrees out of proper flight position in order to activate my battle saddle and disable the safeties of my dual laser rifles; at this point, it was muscle memory. Aurora froze up, not even moving. She’d become as rigid as an ice sculpture, sweating enough to make up for the fact she wasn't actually made of ice. As much as I’d love to admire her body and list all the adorable things about it, my focus was keenly fixated on the doe pointing a shotgun at me. She was scared, but she didn't have the look of a soldier in her eyes. She was a civilian, and one that really didn't want to pull that trigger. “D-don't make a move, you two! Which of you is it?! Show yourself! O-or yourselves…'' Aurora pulled herself together faster than I did. “Jet, put down your guns. Ma’am, we don't mean you any harm. Trust us, we have nothing to hide. We’re not malicious.” Not quite an accurate statement, but the fact I drugged my superior’s coffee with laxatives before I bounced wasn't something I figured anypony cared about this far out. I slowly began to lower my wings. The mode-shifting rods that connected between them and the harness of the battle saddle bent back down and clicked the safety on, rising off the triggers of the two weapons. Still, my wings stayed at the ready. I didn't dare let myself relax and risk being shot in the chest. There was hesitation in the doe’s actions. The gun shook, slowly lowering before a quick snap back up. As she put the mouth-gripped trigger closer to her lips, it was, by my best estimation, too big for her to use in any proper sense. Even an experienced marksman would have their shot thrown off, having to use more energy to bite the trigger and taking away from the balancing of the gun. “I-I said stop moving! I know you’re lying!” Aurora tensed up. Her eyes said enough for me to know she was not ready for a fire fight. There was a sense of doubt, if not surprise as she moved her mouth and scrunched her muzzle, lost for a reply to give. So I did it, instead. “Look, lady, if you bite that trigger, like it or not, neither of us are going to drop before your fur’s seared and skin charred black by laser fire. But go ahead and bite that oversized trigger; hurt your jaw and hope that your gun fires well enough that at least some pellets hit us.” Now, saying that, if she did have some luck to spare and bit hard enough, I was fairly certain that either of us would become swiss cheese from buckshot. It was still survivable, but that’d suck ass on a good day. Aurora glanced back at me, clearly unsure about what I’d said, but it was effective. The gun shook in the doe’s hooves and she started to cry. Slowly, she lowered the gun as she shook before finally dropping it and letting me ease up. Aurora looked like she was about to have a whole-ass heart attack by this point. This was only amplified as a slam reverberated through the room. My feathers rose in flustered shock as the doe dropped behind the desk. I turned with Aurora to the source of the sound, the front door, just in time for a hard kick to meet the door as it came open, letting the light and the dark silhouette in. Over twice as tall as any pony, his body was muscular. The shine of chrome covered all but his head; the head of a buck, antlers tall and wide as they scratched the top of the doorframe. It was some hellish amalgamation of robotics, minotaur physiology and a deer’s head on top of his shoulders. There was silence following that, only broken as this mechanical beast walked in on his two legs; a weird enough sight on its own, with steam rising from his nostrils as he entered. Exposed mechanisms ran along the majority of his form, his chest and joints, specifically. The entity appeared genderless, but was very clearly masculine in his presence, as his eyes glowed with an icy cold blue color. My wings flared back up in preemptive caution, activating my guns. I was hanging but a hair’s breadth from letting off the charge in each clip of ammo I had into the hide of this thing as he came into the light. Aurora took a cautious step back from the imposing entity as my eyes narrowed. I analysed the logistics of grabbing said unicorn and diving out the door, but then would come the matter of finding the others in time. My planning was suddenly cut short when, faster than I really processed, he turned sharply. The next thing I knew, Aurora was on the floor, clutching her gut, curled up in a ball from being kicked in the chest. Thankfully my reaction time kicked up into high gear. That, or he was slower to the punch, but his fist barely missed my head. I pulled sharply to the side, my wings kicking dust and debris up behind me as I leapt from the ground, kicking off his arm and hovering close to the ceiling, a good few feet away from and higher than him. Glancing back to the corner where Aurora crawled off to, beside the door, a black and sleek form sat, its legs full of holes; a changeling. The revelation didn't have much chance to process as a flail swung for my legs and pulled me back into the beast’s reach. “Surrender, or be at risk of damage to life and limb.” The mouth of its deer head did not even move as the metallic voice simply escaped from it. It was unnerving to say the least, and certainly something I didn't feel too good about complying with. “You'd have to catch me for that first, tin man!” In an instant, I glanced around, and “bingo”. Kicking my legs in the air, my wings caught the wind and I sharply swung around the entire room, building speed and crashing out a window, nearly crashing into the church next door, but managing to just stop myself. Looking left, to the front of the building and the expanse out of town, I saw that deer had begun to congregate, with Enjin and Cross namely being amongst the small crowd. The deer monstrosity rounded the corner, pivoting in the mud and sprinting my way. I went to fly higher, but a sudden hard hit against my wing made me falter. I looked to where he’d hit me. Apparently, he decided that the flail wasn't working, and ripped the ball from it and shot-put it into my side. I winced and worked the appendage, feeling several tinges of pain and concluding that I had a cracked rib. My delicate wing bones likely weren't in any better state. He came up to me, and with far more grace than any god should allow this beast, he kicked off the walls, leaping for me. Unfortunately for all parties involved, he grabbed my leg and nearly pulled us both down to the ground. I wasn't about to accept that, hurt wing be damned. My engines kicked on, hard, the glowing orange flame kicking out from them as I torpedoed vaguely eastwards out of town, slamming my tagalong against a hill of dirt. And yet, that wasn't enough to shake him from my leg as he clung on like a vise. Distractedly, I looked back down to him, confirming his position instead of paying attention to the oncoming treeline full of that red mist. Dead tree branches, unsurprisingly, aren't pleasant to collide with several times in rapid succession. Obviously, we crashed into the forest, and sure, it hurt. I had sticks in my mane following the experience, but kicking free of my limp tagalong’s hand and shaking off made me realize the flipside to my predicament. The initial thing that tipped me off to something being very wrong was breathing. I took a breath in and it felt like I’d swallowed a burning lump of coal. My eyes began to water and redden as my vision grew unfocused. It was quickly becoming hard to see and my eyes were burning worse than any pink eye ever. I used a hoof to cover my muzzle, but it wasn't helping much as my nose began to run, expunging all of my sinuses’ contents, and that’s when I felt the effects over my skin. My fur was standing on end as the tips became dry and the effect began heading down. Debilitating was the right word for it. I grit my teeth, unable to properly make sounds to articulate the pain as I felt my throat grow sore and my nose burn. I fell hard into the dirt, feeling every tiny cut and bruise I’d taken in my landing grow more agitated, like screws were being twisted into the fibers of my muscles. Celestia, it fucking sucks to be alive sometimes. I couldn't decide what sucked more; this, or the fact that I felt myself being picked up by trembling and stiff hands, thrown over the shoulder of my metal sasquatch tagalong as he took to sprinting on rusting and rigid legs. He brought us pretty far, but given the fact that I’d taken us out a good mile or more, there wasn't any real chance for him to pull us all the way back to town. Thankfully, it seemed he knew that as well, as he crawled us atop a hill and locked me in a headlock. Kicking on my engines, I noted that they had begun to rust. They weren't the only thing degrading, either, as my fur just rubbed off at his touch. I had been molting for the last eighth of a mile. It took a whole four attempts kicking up and sputtering my engine, equally so burning the guy. The same guy I had been trying to run from, funnily enough. But when they finally kicked on, we soared like corpses being flung in the wind, giving the mayoral building two big dents as we tumbled into it and off the edge. My head cracked hard into the dirt as a big minotaur-deer-robot-cosplay mother fucker crushed me for what seemed to be a full seat audience of the entire town and my companions.
Set Sail 0I don't want to set the world on fire, I just want to st– A sharp scratch broke the crackling harmony of old world music as DJ-Pon 3's smooth voice came over the radio. "Sorry about the interruption, my little ponies, but I've just been informed of something that just brings such sadness over my heart. A new up-and-coming caravan from north of Canterlot passed by the Ponyville area last week and hasn't been seen since. Take this as a reminder, everypony. Ponyville has been raider territory since as far back as the Smile Squad’s initial raiding parties, two decades ago. Avoid the area at all costs. Now, on to the weath--" My hoof pressed to the switch inside my home, turning the radio off before I flew over to the jet controls, turning them down as low as I reasonably could to keep my home floating. The low rumble hopefully wouldn't attract any unwanted attention as it floated along the edge of Ponyville, just a few kilometers away from the coordinates the message told me to go to. A Mr. Hoovesy with a bowler hat, the machine that served as my home had been heavily modified and worked with by myself, its small owner. I’d stolen one of the limbs from a Mr. Gutsy, giving it a plasma pistol. This was the main alteration I made to it, at least from an outside perspective. The 3 camera-like eyes of the tri-limbed machine serveyed the surroundings for me. Turning its camera, I saw the many colorful decorations and defenses one might expect from a raider camp; pony heads on spikes, scrap metal walls, and the mutilated and raped bodies of the formerly mentioned caravanners. Under normal circumstances, I would bury them, but for the situation at hoof, I opted to instead lay low behind an overturned shopping cart, hoping it would provide enough cover. "Vee should be coming pretty close now," I said to myself, settling behind the cart to take a much needed break. I’d spent the last several hours hunched over my desk watching out for threats. Popping my back and stretching my transparent bloatsprite-like wings, I grabbed my mug, filling it with a drop of Sparkle Cola before continuing my journey. I came bobbing over the hill to see a little fishing boat. Rustic and worn, it looked half-ready to sink as it sat there. But my attention didn't settle on the boat for long as two figures crept from the ship onto the quaint excuse for a dock in the rural sections of Ponyville. A tall and imposing individual, not quite the size of an alicorn and with a sturdy, firm build, not unlike the statues of Big Macintosh from before the war, the buck was clearly not one to be messed with. He was a deer, too; a rare sight in Equestria by any means, but even he couldn't hold my attention, as I drifted my cameras to the presumed captain. A mare of short stature, with a mane of flowing locks and smooth, clear complexion, she was unlike anything I had ever seen. This was especially true, given that my description of her was very literal. She was made of water, ebbing from and flowing back into her constantly. The sight of her was mesmerizing as my home bobbed up and down, the subtle growling hum of the rocket piercing the quiet air. I pressed a button, giving a pre-programed wave and unmuting my microphone. "Hello,” I called, drawing the attention of the two. “Vee think vee are in thee right place, no?" The deer, the much more stoic of the two, simply turned as the water mare gave a soft smile. "If you’re here about the radio broadcast, then yes, you’re in the right place. We’re just waiting on a few others to join us before we set sail. My name’s Shimmering Raindrops, and this is Cold Hoof. "Vee are Enjin Rush. Nice te meet you." With a swivel, I brought my claw arm up to shake. Suddenly, a secondary camera picked up a target, immediately drawing my attention. Thankfully, my targeting system marked the unicorn I saw as non-hostile, prompting a wave to them and receiving a small wave back. The incoming mare was clearly trying her hardest not to be seen before she slipped in from the sidelines, coming down the hill. Slowly, others arrived. The unicorn, Aurora, rested on the ship with me. A zebra soon arrived and was let aboard with some apprehension from Raindrops, and a pegasus practically crashed near to the ship as she came in for a landing. I was apprehensive about going on this journey with her, given what I knew of the secretive pegasi enclave above the sky, but I provided a warm welcoming wave all the same. Our next and final arrival, a griffon, sat alongside the zebra, and they clearly bonded over mutual distrust for the pegasus mare. I, however, didn’t pay much attention to the others as I read the books Raindrops had aboard. Each one had its pages and cover laminated to be waterproof, and she had a lot of them. Accompanying the reading materials were maps and other interesting knick knacks, fitting for someone who planned to travel the globe. Many races listed in her notes as having worked with and studied, she had left blank or had minimal information on, including phoenix ponies, sirens, driders, moose, goats, tatzl ponies, and many, many more things. Roughly a hundred of them had space for more information, most of which I was clueless about. The pegasus was heavily augmented, with literal engines implemented into her rump, lightweight armored plating, subdermal mechanical implements, and a… dick between her legs. Really? Didn't think anyone actually had cybernetic genitalia, I thought to myself. Her name was Jet Fuel and she clearly knew what she was doing with the engine, alongside myself. The griffon of the group was evidently named Gwendlyn. She was reading Fifty Shades of Hay, something evidently recommended by Raindrops. The bird was distant during the week-long ride to the crew’s destination. Cold Hoof, the deer, was equally so, seemingly only speaking one or two words at a time, even when Jet and I worked on the ship's engines. The unicorn, Aurora, was definitely not accustomed to travel by boat. According to the captain, she was often seen throwing up over the railing. I felt a bit bad for her, thinking she had to be sea sick, despite traveling down river and not the open water. The zebra, Cross Stitch, was the only true outlier of the trip, as she stayed in her room and read books seemingly constantly, only coming out when she deemed it necessary, which was not very often. I only learned her name from Captain Raindrops, as I never seemed to be in the right place at the right time to ask her myself. Either way, most of the crew kept to themselves. There were few things any of us bonded over, the most notable being Gwen and Cross’ hatred of wings, which was mostly stemming from Gwen being wingless. The other decent amount of bonding was between myself and Jet, sharing mechanical knowledge, mostly to help improve the ship. Still, it was bonding. And it was made very clear on the first day that Cold Hoof had sailed with Raindrops before. The only one who seemed not to have a strong bond with anypony else was Aurora, but not for lack of trying. After a few days on the water, the ragtag collection of misfits passed by a section of forest. Jet saluted towards it with her wing. I would later be informed that the ruins of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns resided in those woods, debatably home to the incident that truly started the end of the world. I was about to ask her what she was saluting the trees for, but the ship suddenly jolted to the left and stopped moving up the river. Everypony that was still standing on the deck was knocked aside, which pretty much meant everypony except myself and Raindrops. As soon as everypony regained their bearings, a loud clanking was heard from below deck, and Jet and I rushed to investigate. It turned out to be a catch in the engine that drove the propeller. Combined with the jolt, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that something had caught on the propeller and locked it in place. As long as the engine continued to try turning it against its will, it would try to tear itself apart. That more specifically described the noise, as it had jumped its housing and was trying to bash a hole in the hull. It was quick work to shut off the engine and report to the captain. “Vee have a small crack in the hull, Ms. Not a big vun, but vee should still patch it before it groes.” Raindrops nodded and turned to Cold hoof, but before she could say anything, he had grabbed a small knife, clamped it between his teeth and dove overboard behind the ship without a word. We waited about a minute before he surfaced again on the port side. We were about to rush over and pull him back on deck, but a quick spell from Raindrops brought him aboard before we could reach him. “Kelp,” was the only word out of his mouth as he dumped a tangled mass of lumpy plant matter at Jet’s hooves. “Does that mean the prop is free?” I asked. He nodded silently and rejoined the captain. I ducked below deck and restarted the engine, and it ran just fine. As long as nothing was clogging it up, it seemed to run smoothly. As per my recommendation, we directed ourselves over to the bank, where we could work on patching the small hole. It wouldn’t be long; it was nothing more than a sheet of plate steel, a rubber mat to act as a gasket, and a few rivets. Between Jet and myself, it would be a five-minute delay. Once ashore, we set straight to work. Most of our time spent on the repair was under the supervision of the captain, who kept making sure we were doing things right. With three rivets to go, I happened to look up, just in time to see Cold Hoof rush to the other side of the boat. I cannot attest to what happened next exactly, but I can guess. First, there was a gurgling, then a few impacts, and finally a rap-pap-pap as three shots in rapid succession gave way to silence. “Finished?” asked Raindrops, turning away from us. “All taken care of,” answered the voice of Gwendlyn. “No more problem over there.” We finished our riveting and climbed back aboard. At the same time, Cold Hoof was coming up the other side. He had some manner of mutated creature draped over his shoulder. At first, I wondered if it was some kind of bug, as it seemed to have a shell, but with how it was dripping… Some kind of lobster? A crab? “And where do you think you’re taking that thing?” huffed Raindrops, returning to the helm to steer us back down the river. “Galley,” he replied, dragging the beast below deck. Gwendlyn chuckled, spinning her pistol around in her claw, then pulling back her duster and holstering it. We spent the rest of the day without much incident. Things were quiet. I’d completely forgotten to ask Jet about her salute to the trees and was about to go to bed when Raindrops invited us to an impromptu group dinner. “To adventure, and to seeing what is out there, waiting for us,” Raindrops said, clinking a glass of wine before sipping it. It seemed that everyone had been summoned, with the boat just sort of anchored for a short while. I guess it might have been a good idea to have a seat and take in everypony. We’d never all been gathered at once before now. My seat was not made for a Robot such as my home. Mr Hoovesys are not really designed to sit in chairs. I simply moved the furniture back away from the table, to an out-of-the-way corner and left my home hovering in the place it had been sitting. Across from me sat Jet Fuel with Cold Hoof on her left and Cross on his left. My side of the table housed Gwen on my left and Aurora past her, and finally, Raindrops herself sat at the end of the table. The atmosphere was needlessly dense for a moment as I simply analized our food. “Is this that thing I took down this afternoon?” asked Gwen, prodding at it with a fork. “Are you sure about this?” “I checked it myself,” answered Raindrops. “It matches perfectly a description of a creature I’ve seen roasting in Olinea. Since we’re only a few days out, it makes sense that we’d find one here, as they tend to like riverbanks.” “What is it, exactly?” asked Aurora. Raindrops shrugged. “I forgot what they called it, and the name in my book is smudged. You’ll be fine, dig in!” It seemed to be crab of some description, with proportions I could never realistically finish. My arms had to take small bits of the food to slide it in through a small tray I’d taken from a cd player, so eating wasn't going to be quick. Our drinks were varied, with myself simply having Sparkle Cola in my home, While Jet and the others, save for Cross, had various alcohols. I was never a drinker, myself, and couldn't tell what they were having in specific. Eventually, the silence, broken only by the sounds of forks on plates and chewing, managed to wear down on me. I pressed my button to unmute my mic. “So… Vee think the food is delicious, he he….” My nervous chuckle, in fact my entire statement, didn't prompt any responses from the others. As my cameras looked around the table, Gwen was glaring daggers at Jet. Jet was doing the same in response, and Raindrops seemed content to let us sit and eat in uncomfortable silence. Aurora was right in her boat with that sentiment. Cross was the exception. The almost meek-seeming zebra looked uncomfortable even sitting there in silence. She stood up with her plate, trying to leave the entire experience and retreat to her room where she seemed to spend all of her time. As she did so, Cold Hoof put a hoof to her shoulder, easing her back to her seat. He gave her a reassuring smile, that he was not going to let any harm befall her here, no matter how uncomfortable it seemed. I looked down at the button and realized that there was an error. My mic had never left its mute, and nopony had heard a word I’d said. No wonder they had no response. “Fucking every Queen damn time!” I spoke aloud, flicking the switch on and off several times before finally holding the button down speaking. “Vee think this food is vonderful, but vee vere thinking vee don't really know you all so vell.” There we go, I thought to myself as I released the button with a hopeful smile. Now that should break some of this tension. Cross spoke next. “Well… I agree the food was wonderful, Mrs. Raindrops.” Raindrops hummed out a grunt in response. She wasn’t actually eating anything, just lifting her wine glass to her lips. I wouldn’t call it drinking, per se, as the moment the wine touched her, it just began to bleed into her body, swirling around with everything else, giving her a bit of a rose tint. “Well, thank you, but I'm afraid that your praise isn't mine to take. Cold Hoof cooked the food,” she said, gesturing to her companion. Looking over to the deer in question, he didn't seem too interested in the compliment, simply eating and nodding along with what she said. I wondered if this might be a deer thing, or just something having to do with him, specifically. Most ponies I’d met loved praise, and sometimes would try to coax it out, and he’d just brushed it off as if he was expected to do a good job. “Well vee are, at the very least, glad to be out of Eqvestria,” I continued. “Vat are you folks doing this for?” Hopefully that was not a very invasive question. I didn’t mean to pry, but I was a bit curious, to be sure. “I'm a wanted fugitive,” answered Jet right away, tearing off a chunk of crabmeat. “Enclave want to brand me a Dashite, and the best way I see to keep that from happening is fucking off entirely. I figured I might as well make some money in the process. Even if that means I have to work with a zebra…” “Ha!” laughed Gwen, jabbing her fork in Jet’s direction. Of all the shit things I expected of you, a racist wasn’t among them, Air Head!” “Air Head?!” shouted Jet, slamming her hooves on the table as she stood up. “I'll show you what for, Bird Brain!” Not wanting to involve ourselves in the conflict, Aurora and Cross stood up, and the three of us took a step back. Well, a strafe back in my case. Cold Hoof stepped forward, about to separate the two of them, but it turned out he didn’t need to. The captain had whipped some watery tendrils around their wrists and froze them suddenly, locking the two in place. The ice chilled the entire room. Even sitting on top of my thrusters, I could feel the chill permeating my shell. We all turned to the hostess, who cleared her throat. “I will not tolerate in-fighting amongst yourselves if we're going to be working together. Like it or not, you’ll have to be working with whoever is available. If you can’t handle that, I can throw you overboard and find somepony else, but I don’t want to be forced to do that, so just chill.” She looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh at her own pun. I have to wonder if the others actually found it funny, because nopony laughed. Thinking back, it may have been the mood. Her ice returned to a liquid state, rapidly returning into her body. Such a fascinating creature, I thought to myself. “Now, I think Enjin has the right idea. You all need to learn about each other, or it won’t be raiders, mutants or animals that spell our doom. As a sign of good faith, I’ll start. I am a kelpie; a water elemental of sorts, and have control over the three states of liquid. I can even change what liquids I'm made of, should I have enough on hoof. I don’t much care for conflict, especially aboard my vessel, but I wield some pretty mean spells, so watch yourselves.” “Well as much as I dislike it, me and Air Head over here are basically in the same boat,” grunted Gwen, almost slamming her ass back into her chair. “It's a Talon Company matter, not worth going into detail about.” She finished her food and pulled out her revolver. It was made for griffon claws specifically, and looked quite heavy, with an intricate engraving of her name over the barrel: Gwendlyn. Aurora cleared her throat after Gwen finished speaking. “I'm simply looking to find a safe place to settle down outside of Equestria,” she said a bit softly. “I’m tired of waking up and wondering if I’m going to be shot today. I feel like that’s not too much to ask for.” Cold and Raindrops exchanged worried glances and frowns. “Well,” started Raindrops, “I'm afraid where we're going is not a suitable home for anyone. You may have to wait quite a while before we head to a place safe enough to meet such a goal. Olinea is about as close to Tartarus as you can be, aside from actually going there.” That made her ears droop back down. I didn’t think her desire was all that unreasonable. My own mind wondered what could ever be deadly enough to be comparable to Tartarus. The others simply looked amongst themselves at the revelation. The only thing that I can think would be bad enough to be equated to Tartarus would be Canterlot. Aurora was the first to depart from the table after that. Cross wasn't far behind. As Gwen and Jet continued their dagger-glaring, I thought to myself, This is going to be an interesting adventure. Either way, it was better than being home under the queen. Author's Note Level 4, Game start
Olinea 2Morning came soon after our dinner, and with it, our swift arrival in Olinea’s shores. As the others geared up and equipped to set out, an ominous red mist blanketed parts of the forest further in, past the waters edge. I loaded my plasma pistol from the pipbuck-turned-desk in my Mr. Hoovesy, and that was all the preparation I had to do. The others were all much better equipped than myself in some sense, but I was a breezie in a portable house, so it's debatable who was more ready. Jet, the pegasus, was only wearing Enclave flight gear, or maybe a uniform? I'm gonna go with the latter. Either way, it covered her white coat and accentuated her bright red mane while fitting around her cybernetics, most notably the engines that nearly replaced her ass. Her weapons were indisputably something I knew well; twin-linked recharger rifles on a battle saddle, two laser weapons that used a magical hyper-breeder, absorbing ambient magic to charge their shots. It provided effectively infinite ammo with what some would say is long charging time after each shot. As for being twin-linked, what I mean is that they both shot at the same time with one action. Cross, our resident zebra, had a simple hunting rifle. It mostly looked like a hoof-me-down used for killing rats and other varmints and it clearly wasn't her pride and joy. That accolade belonged to the numerous potions and herbs bulging her bags out. When I’d found her gearing up, she was pulling herbs out of a crack in the wall. She seemed the type to find them in the strangest places. Gwen the griffon was the embodiment of a western outlaw, or perhaps sheriff, wearing nothing but leather armor and a duster with hat to match, her revolver in its holster. When I ran into her, she was reading a power pony comic book. lightly chuckling at it while poorly hiding it in a copy of Fifty Shades of Hay. I chose not to comment on it. Our last guest, the unicorn Aurora's room was locked when I was making my original rounds, but when she came out she had on a leather jacket and some leg warmers, with a .32 auto pistol on her hip. Together, she and myself made our way to the deck overlooking the water with the others up here already, save for Cold Hoof, the first mate and an original resident of Olinea. Only a minute later, we came to a clearing on the water. We were in Olinea. We had been traveling at brisk pace through the forest of skinny white and black trees, with Jet flying above and Shimmering Raindrops, our kelpie captain, guiding us forward. Cold Hoof had stayed with the ship. I'd overheard Raindrops telling him to flee the area if we weren't back in a month. The forest had been quiet for several hours. Even on the targeting system of my pipbuck, E.F.S. (Eyes Forwards Sparkle) hadn't picked up anything, save for myself. If It had, it’d have outlined them, and it worked several meters out. It hadn't picked up anything living, but I had definitely picked up on something. We all had; the deep red mist. It was like the smoke from a flare at its most concentrated point, but it was everywhere, traveling like a fog through the forest and never staying stagnant. The space it inhabited and where we walked through, well, flew through in my case, was dead. Nothing lived here, save for the trees that clearly clung to life with all their might. “I wouldn't go near this stuff,” Raindrops grimaced. “According to Cold Hoof, you'd wish you were inside Canterlot, as it’d be a more pleasant death.” She held her map, trying to direct us to a town she had marked down. That was all that Cross and I needed to dissuade us from touching it, despite the intrigue it bred. Traversing the wood, we came across several robots, rusted and long-since decayed in the fog, wispy and dark as it hazed areas around it without the actual dust being there. It was an optical effect, bleeding it into clean areas in my vision as it grew denser and denser the further we went, slowing us down to a crawl trying to navigate the mist without stepping into it. Eventually, we did come upon a clearing with the largest cloud of it we'd seen yet, so dense it couldn't be seen through as it stretched miles with seemingly no breaks in it. “Fuck, this stuff’s everywhere,” proclaimed Jet. Funnily enough, she could just fly over the cloud and was dealing with the least of it. “Just be patient. We’ll make our way through this in time,” sighed Raindrops, clearly feeling tired by this point, having traveled for hours on end. I couldn't lie, I was actually pretty tense. Simply the thought of being surrounded on all sides by something supposedly more dangerous than Pink Cloud was a harrowing thought. Beep, Beep, Beep! The alarm for a hostile target went off in my little robot housing. For the others outside, it was too faint to hear, but sitting less than a few inches from it, it made me jump with a sudden shock. Three targets were approaching with rapid speed. It wasn't long after my defenses picked the three up that Jet and Gwen noticed them. Two were land bound, huge bulky deer of some description. The third, moving much faster with wings, was of a sleek, slim build. Quickly, I knew that the targeting reticle wasn't going to matter, as I’d see the flying deer in full detail if I didn't start moving, and quickly. “Vee have incoming!!” I yelled, hitting the gas of my engine and beginning to fly myself off as my plasma pistol came rounding up with a click. The others turned and ran as Jet, like a blur, picked up Cross, darting into the woods before coming back for Aurora, and with some fuss and strain, Gwen. I realized she probably couldn't carry me as Raindrops created some ice pathways, sliding and skating off towards the others that’d been carried away alongside the fog, leaving just me as Jet returned. And here I thought I was fairly quick. “Vee don't think you are going to be able to carry our home, Jet,” I called out as the two of us rushed away as quickly as we could, which was thankfully faster than our foes. The two land-based ones faded from view, with the third completely disappearing. We thought we might be in the clear, until a blur of white and blue steel collided with Jet at ludicrous speeds. Dirt flew back at me from the two colliding with the ground as I skidded to a stop at the sight of it, watching Jet being dragged along the ground and slammed against a tree hard enough the old dead timber visibly shifted. Steadying myself, I brought my plasma pistol up with a click, firing as the mechanical enemy reared its hoof back to punch Jet. The ball of plasma connected against the side of the machine as its hoof punched straight through the tree, sending wood flying like shredded paper. The deer was, as mentioned, slim in build, with legs thinner than a normal pony’s and a pair of jagged wings on its backside. It had antlers that arced with magical energy, glowing and pulling sparks of light into a singular high point between them, glowing a vibrant icy blue. My second shot fired, knocking some plating off the rusted and blackened machine’s backside. Its tail had long since been severed as holes decorated its body, showing off the intricate and delicate machinery beneath as it charged its beam. Jet’s hind hooves curled up to her chest, wings splaying out. With a strong kick forward, her propulsion kicked on with a sputtering start, sending ash and smoke billowing out as rust and filth burned straight off her robotic adversary. For half a second, she stayed in that place before shooting up alongside the tree out of E.F.S. range. The deer’s gaze followed her as a third plasma shot burst from my pistol, grazing past the machine's head and drawing its attention. It hadn't seemed to slow down at all. The beam stopped growing, a large ball of pure, concentrated glowing blue magic sitting there arcing with energy like solar flares on a star. “Oh shit, shit, shit fuck,” was all I could say, gripping my lever system and trying to take manual control over the slow autopilot. If I could manage that, then at least I’d have a chance to dodge the soon-to-come blast. STHZOOOM!! The crackle of energy shot forth, settling to a nice hum and traveling at incomprehensible speeds as it polished the top of my robot’s head, almost hitting and surely destroying my metal top hat. It moved to direct the still very active beam downwards, but a certain pegasus had some payback in mind. Jet soared forth, kicking its head. Like a crack of thunder and lightning, it threatened to tear wire from metal and head from body as the kick quickly, with acrobatic expertise became a choking grapple. Jet’s head, mere centimeters from the pulsating ball of energy frying the fur off of her cheek, held on as her thrusters kept the pair drilling into the ground. That is to say, her thrusters were digging a progressively deeper trench into the ground. With each bouncing smack, they bored into the ground as I struggled to keep even a fraction of the pace, until finally, with several thundering cracks, the duo smashed through some trees. By the time I arrived at the scene, it was still alive, but its limbs and wings were mangled and a foreleg was missing. Antlers, too, one of which was in Jet’s mouth. She spit it out, opening fire with her battle saddle several times as I watched her peppering the robot in laser fire until her guns needed to reload. She started off and I gave chase, giving the deer a final blast of plasma to the head as my goodbye. The air was thick as Jet’s wings took flight and my machine-turned-suit thrusted upward, bringing me quickly behind her. Flying above the mist let me admire the icy creation that Shimmering Raindrops had created in her own breakneck sprint to flee. Long, elaborate curving slides of ice, thinly supported with clear pillars connected to the ground as the red mist slowly began to overtake the further ones. The ice was cracking, but not melting. It was being killed as the fog pierced it and eroded what was there, until it all came crumbling down. The fog didn't seem to care what it touched. It would erode it, as though it had consumed it. Jet stayed relatively close, bouncing between myself and the rest of the party further up in the woods, she never bothered landing, as the only times she ever seemed to stop was when she skidded on clouds to turn pace and leap back towards the party. She seemed to be training. Training, despite the blood I’d eventually started to notice staining the ground beneath where she was flying. As I floated, I’d activated the autopilot and set it to follow Jet as I reloaded my plasma pistol. Well, actually, my home did. All I did in the process was hit a button before coming back to my couch, one of few things I’d brought with me from the fae realm as finding a replacement of some sort wasn't high on my to-do list if ever I could help it. The setup I had wasn't too dissimilar to a studio apartment with couch doubling as bed, my pipbuck tv/desk, a chute to use the restroom and a tunnel carefully crafted deeper into the robot to manage the engine and what little storage space I had without considering a carry bag I had affixed like a backpack to the back of my home. Even then, I always found space lacking. I was an inventor, always collecting and tinkering. Some in my situation would look for outside sources of storage, but I couldn't. To go outside was just such a… horrifying prospect. Even if an escape chute does exist for such a thing, hopefully I'd never have to use it. It wasn't long before we met up with the rest of the group, passing by a long-rotted sign. Moldy and decayed, the letters were barely legible. “Blue Hollow Campgrounds.” The Campground’s gate was complemented by a second metal road sign, rusted and ruined to the point it truly was illegible, aside from the arrow pointing West that read “25 Miles.” The campgrounds themselves were barren for the most part, with five wooden cabins here at the entrance, though presumably, there was a much larger run of land to camp on. Their signs, like most old-world writing seemed to be around here, were faded and destroyed. Most of the group followed Gwen into the first building, with Cross going around back, pulling out a tent as she did. I suppose she intended to rough it. Jet followed her out, but I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, exactly. I saw Cross reach into her bag and pull out a roll of bandages and a bottle of some kind, but when she looked through the window, I felt a bit guilty about staring and pretended to inspect the windowsill. She didn’t look convinced, but I did turn away, regardless. Looking around the room we’d entered, it seemed to be the lodge of the head honcho of the campgrounds, being nearly equivalent to a real home. My robot drifted to the corner, keeping eye on Cross through the window as, for the first time in a while, silence was broken. “I'm going to see what all I can find in the other buildings,” Jet said firmly, addressing the entire group. She’d just come back in, wearing a few bandages lightly soaked in whatever fluid Cross had used. Healing, perhaps? She had been bleeding earlier. “What, and take all the cool shit you find for yourself?” piped Gwendlyn, turning to face the mare. She stood taller than Jet, even despite her relatively small stature for a griffon based on what I’d seen of the Talons. “Not on my watch, you don’t. I’m comin’ with!” Jet did her best to brush her off with an eye roll and snort, heading out the door and fighting with the flightless avian the whole way. I simply relaxed. Or at least, I tried to. My home was everything I had, and it came inches from complete annihilation not even an hour ago. A roll of the dice, and I wouldn’t be here right now, burned to less than ashes by a foreign nation’s automated abomination. The thought shook me to my core. Death was… it wasn't usually on the table for me. Even now, it wasn't what really scared me about it. Hell, it might be preferable if what I dreaded most had come to pass. What if my home; my casing were to be destroyed? Everything that was Enjin Rush save for my flesh and tiny bones would be gone. Ever since I’d left home, I'd been in this robot. Without it, I wouldn't be Enjin Rush. I’d be no-one. My thoughts on the existential mush had overpowered me long enough. Before long, the door slammed back open with the pair who entered having changed their demeanor and attitude drastically. Were they drunk? The immediate answer was no, but the barrel they were carrying between them was about to change that. ”I present Keg of Ale!” proudly proclaimed Jet. Gwen, with a smirk, stood next to the barrel, leaning on it. “I found it. If you have any praise in reserve, I–” “Yep! Reserve any praise for me, Jet! I know, I know, I'm the greatest!” “Like hell you are!” This went on for far longer than it needed to. I began to envy the seemingly ever-wiser Cross Stitch, who’d chosen to brew tea above a small fire outside. Eventually, the dick-measuring contest was won by Jet, who finally decided to start pouring everybody drinks. My cup was perfectly sized, or at least, for a normal pony, so I had to bring tiny drops of it in through my disk tray if I wanted to drink it. Ultimately, like usual, I didn't even finish a single small cup. Ale wasn't high on my list of preferred beverages, was the main issue. The burn in my throat just told me to stop, and I did. A drinking competition almost started up, but when the idea was presented, Shimmering was already going in for her fourth mug. She was seemingly unfazed, apart from her body turning a stained yellow color. Despite the water diluting it, she was turning into alcohol. Until the eighth cup, I was personally wondering if she could even become intoxicated. After all, she was the fluid itself. How impure could her body really be? But then she did. It was like a switch had been flipped and she was finally tipsy, something she seemed to realize almost immediately. She stopped and set down her mug. She’d long since won the drinking competition, perhaps before it even started. And so, the night drew on. Aurora said she had drank too much, too quickly and started to feel ill, so Captain Raindrops took her into the next room to sleep it off. I opted to stay with the other two, just in case they started fighting again. The newest member of our party, “Keg of Ale” as it had been named, was still not empty when they passed out. His name had been painted on the side by a drunk-as-fuck Jet, reading as “KEg o AIE.” I guess writing the G and L as capital letters like the rest was too much work for her in her state. By the time morning rose on us, half the barrel was gone and Raindrops, if her name was even fitting now, was curled up inside the barrel. Jet had left by the time I woke up and set down my mug. Gwen was passed out, strewn across a table, sleeping like she was dead, and Cross was outside, taking down her tent. “Raindrops? Vee should be moving soon, no?” “Mhmm, yeah, waitin’ on Jet,” she slurred out as Arora stumbled from upstairs, stretching her back. She hadn’t taken a major part in last evening’s festivities, if you could call it that. She was either not able to hold her liquor, or simply didn't like its taste, like me. “Well, that was a fun night,” she proclaimed, trotting down the stairs. “Where is everypo-- everybody?” she corrected herself, prompting a hoof raise from inside of the barrel. “Jet has flown off,” I answered. “Vee believe she should be back soon.” Suddenly, like the devils of Tartarus bursting through the gates, the door flew open and Jet came trotting back in, wings coming back to rest at her sides. Her coat was still clearly a tad damp, but overall, the filth of battle had been washed from her. “Don't go west, unless you want to explode.” Evidently, she read the confusion on Aurora’s face and followed it up. “Spider mines, basically. The four-legged little bastards almost had me with how fast they were, but hey, I was faster.” I made sure to make a note of that in my pipbuck’s data tab, right alongside deadly flying laser deer in Olinean threats. Big, ugly crabs, too. “Whelp, now that everyone’s back, somebody grab Gwen, so we can head out,” groaned Raindrops. Coming to her hooves, she almost slipped into a puddle, by the looks of it, before freezing solid. Well, almost solid. I could see the liquids sloshing in her various guts from her stomach to uh… privates. “Buck, that's weird,” I thought to myself. That brought to mind another realization. Discounting Jet’s stallionhood, I was technically the only male in the party, and I was small enough to fit in a pony’s hoof. It was, dramatically speaking, quite ironic, honestly. “Alright. Well, I should be ready,” Raindrops said, clearly doing her best to sober up as Jet picked up Gwen. She was still out cold and, notably, her hat fell to the floor. Jet bent down and picked up the hat, placing it on her own head, wearing it as we went out the door, walking with a confident stride. It was like the additional accessory just made her better in some way. She certainly acted with higher confidence and a self-assured attitude as we walked, something I honestly thought was impossible, until now. Drifting along, we began heading northward. The campgrounds weren't too far from a town, according to Raindrops’ map. I drifted back to talk to Aurora. The unicorn had been distant and reserved today. I barely knew anything about her, and I figured now was as good a time as any to change that. “Hey, there. Do ye mind if vee join you?” I asked, happily waving to draw her attention. She smiled and nodded as she looked up. “Oh, yes, that’d be quite alright,” was all she replied, continuing to walk at pace. I thought to compliment her in some way to provoke conversation, but she was so… nothing. There was nothing to compliment. She was about as close to forgettable as one could be. I suppose that can be a good skill in the wasteland, but it was a bit off-putting. “So, vee understand you are, eh, looking to find a new home, yes?” Again, she nodded, but finally a conversation started. “Yes, I've moved into living away from home; spreading my wings, I guess you could say. I'm looking for a place to settle down now, maybe have a family.” “You don't hear that too often in the Vasteland,” I remarked. “Maybe not the Equestrian Wasteland, but we're not in Equestria anymore, now are we, Enjin?” I let out a soft chuckle. “No, I suppose not.”
Welcome to Mud 3Author's Note this chapter is from Jets perspective Edited by Kiernan Welcome to Mud 3 The trek north seemed to take a millennium, navigating through the winding woods and avoiding the blood-red mist that permeated the lands of Olinea. To say it was a tiresome experience was probably fair. I’d say I had it the worst out of everyone, with me and our griffon friend having to fly at such a slow pace that I’d just resigned myself to walking. At least, we had the luxury of listening to the faint, staticy audio drama of Dr. Hooves emanating out of Enjin’s chrome dome. The radio play had some great and terrible moments, not that I was listening that closely, and at one point, Aurora made the grave mistake of sparking conversation with Enjin on the audio drama. Now I had a portion of my brain cramped with Dr. Hooves knowledge, as well as Enjin’s opinions on all of it. Thankfully, they ended the flood of knowledge dense enough to fill a wiki around the halfway point of our few-mile-trek, having been eclipsed by our trot. I wasn't saved from knowing Enjin’s preferred entries in the series being the stories of the many robotic races of the series; whether the robot brains from another universe gone mad or the cyber-zebras that sought to kill the titular Dr. Hooves and his companions. He loved them all; that much was obvious, though he couldn't relent on the trivia about his favorite entries where said cyber-zebras were first introduced in the “modern” era of the radio drama. As I trotted along and hoped for the mist to clear up and let me fly, it did no such thing. This left me to my thoughts, primarily of home. Well, my former home, and with it, my cybernetic enhancements that I hoped didn't classify me as more machine then mare… or pony, given the addition between my legs. Thankfully, I wasn't allotted a lot of time to think about that before my eyes set upon our destination and my hoof gave Enjin’s chrome dome a good knocking. “Vee are awake, vee’re awake! You can stop vith the tapping!" he called out, the crackle of static making his microphone peak painfully in our collective ears, sparing only Shimmering Raindrops. Cross seemed to be the most affected. She was the first zebra I’d seen outside of a textbook, and I hadn't talked to her at all thus far. It makes you wonder just how much of a prewar textbook might have been correct about them. With a wet clap of hooves splashing fluid, Shimmering called our attention, save for Gwen’s. She, for the last few minutes, had resigned herself to sleeping, dragged by Aurora on a feed sack she’d scavenged from the cabins. “Alright, before we do anything, I need you lot to split up and scout the town. See if they have any hostility towards any of our group before we head in as a whole.” I shrugged at that, turning first to Cross, but then second-guessing the decision, turning to something only a tad less familiar. “Aurora, you and me?” I asked, prompting her to look at Gwen. She was about to speak, but was cut off by Raindrops. “I'll keep an eye on the griffon on that hill over there,” she said, nodding in the direction of the land. Before continuing, I had a split-second idea, first. Swiping Gwen’s hat off her face, I flicked the dust off of it with a quick jerk of my head and threw it up in the air to hopefully land on my own head. By the fourth attempt, I gave up, scooping it up with my hoof and plopping the now just a bit more worn sheriff hat on my head. Now I was ready, despite the curious raised eyebrow Aurora was giving me and Cross Stitch’s indifference. “Well, I suppose if Enjin and Mrs. Cross are going to pair themselves up, I can go with you.” Cross simply nodded in agreement, not giving Enjin a chance to speak up. I started trotting at more than a brisk pace, afraid I’d end up saddled with Cross Stitch and experience an awkward silence for the rest of the hours to come. Looking back, sure enough, my plan to escape said fate worked. Aurora followed behind me, making sure to follow the path, unlike myself. I’d skidded along the dirt into the mud of the streets, a detail about the town she visibly disliked on approach. Shimmering Raindrops stood, watching us head into town before turning to Cross and Enjin heading off to the other end of the settlement, writing something in one of her waterproof books. The town's shape was a bit odd to me. It was organized like J, only it had a shorter neck. The letter was on its side with the hook going under the text line, and there was a sharp jutting line from the top. Like I said, weird. Aurora and I took the jutted length that seemed to be the main road. It was lined with, notably, a bar and the largest building in town, while the others took the tip of the hook. A sheriff’s office and homes along the street turned to businesses until the corner where our paths merged. I didn't gaze on the town any longer to collect more details before turning to look at Aurora and gauge her, all without missing a beat with my hooves stepping backwards. Also, why in the name of Luna’s gaped rectum was walking backwards so difficult? “I have a hat, and I look badass in it!” I boasted, walking backwards and looking my unicorn tagalong in the face. She looked at me with several levels of disappointment, making me frown, albeit a bit flatly and dramatically. “For someone your age, you act quite childish, you know,” she said, confirming that my antics were prompting a rise out of her. “So she isn't some emotionless, stone-faced stick in the mud. Good.” I quickly thought to myself as I flipped around. My integrated ass engines turned to the unicorn as I dug my hooves into the muddy street. “Wanna race to the first building?” I quickly asked, looking back to her under my partially metal wings to a worried look. As she went to speak and raise a hoof, presumably to stop me, I cut her off. “Oh well, see you in town!” The first building was about ten yards away as I snapped my face forward, narrowed my eyes, and lifted my wings up and forward. Slamming them back and down, I stomped my rear leg to the side. Fire shot out from my engine, first orange and then blue, sending me rocketing forward down the muddy street. For the first ten feet or so, my wings splayed back out and I tried to pick up my hooves from slipping and splaying out under me, slinging mud all over the place. This attempt at stabilizing and picking up didn't work that well. Though, considering this was the second unsanctioned use of the cybernetic hip, waist and ass thrusters that had ever occurred, I counted it as a personal achievement to have made it just over seven yards before my face met the mud-slickened street. I could practically feel the painful recoil and wince Aurora made behind me, however the pain of my teeth dragging along the muddy ground, the crushing of my nose, and the hard roll and tumble my body made, bending my neck and spine to send me bouncing and flipping into the porch of the bar, definitely hurt worse. I lay still in the mud like a dead bird for a little bit with a splitting headache, twitching wings, and crushed cyber nuts. Then, the still very weird sensation of a unicorn's telekinesis lifting me made me shake a bit uncomfortably. Not that it was noticeable against the firm but physically undetectable sensation. I obviously knew it was Aurora picking me up, but looking down and seeing her as she sat me on my hooves was a nice confirmation. My entire front was caked with mud, making my pristine white fur and the years of good care that had come with it a horrible loss in both beauty and time. Even if I didn't care too deeply for the former, my mom had hammered it into my head that you had to look good when talking to important ponies, and even more so when showing off. So the crash was a dent to my ego, almost as big a dent as the pegasus face-shaped hole in the planks of the very hard porch. Not only was I now a mess, but I had made an ass of myself. I trotted over to the dent. There was a crumpled-up, filth-covered brown hat that'd been turned even browner somehow buried in that slop. Tugging it up with my teeth, a glob of nasty mud fell out. I rolled my eyes, hoping that Gwen wouldn't cause too much of a fuss over this. I lifted a wing, using my feathers like a griffon’s claws and slapped my hat into place, patting it down and wiggling it a bit. My red and orange bitonal parted mane gained new brown sludge streaks as I wiped my face with my wings, especially my eyes and as far up into my nose as I could, before flicking the mud off my wings and hacking up a loogie of the shit. As for the rest of my body, I was thankfully covered in my traditional dark gray and black flight uniform. As far as I was concerned, nothing of value had been tarnished in regards to that. I turned to Aurora, who was simply watching me with a look of intrigue. “Alright, I think that's as much as I'm gonna be able to manage on my own. Cast that dirt-remover spell of yours.” Aurora gave me the weirdest look at that request. “D-dirt-remover spell?” she asked, cocking her head as we both just stood out in the mud in broad daylight. Thankfully, it seemed like a smaller than tiny community. Of course, that also meant that word would travel like gold on the gossip mill. “Yeah, you know; the swirly-whish-swoosh dirt picker-upper and tossing spell,” I said with exasperation and confusion. “Did land-lovers call it something else?” That's what I was assuming at this point, but I’d seen plenty of unicorns cast the spell in the S.P.P. tower where I was being kept during and after the surgeries. “I, uh… Yeah, I have no clue what you’re talking about,” she flatly stated to my dismay. With a groan and a snort, I turned to the bar, the first building we came to on the street. Nopony was outside, but there was a decent enough commotion heard inside to let me know that if I went in first and didn't make a good impression, I’d be screwed; up mud-covered creek without wings. “Aurora, you’re going in first,'' I stated flatly, hoping the unicorn would just go along with it. She stepped up with me, both of us still standing in the mud before the steps as she gave me the latest look of suspicion. Her raised eyebrow prompted an added bonus to entice her, as much as it hurt me. “Here, you can even borrow the hat.” At that, I slapped my sole appearance-saver on her head, giving her a mud mane. I was very happy that her horn stuck out the front instead of stabbing through it. Her face was immediately one of discomfort at the cold, muddy hat being placed on her. But unlike one of my former superiors, she didn't yell at me. She only sighed and started heading into the building. I followed her as my wings were lifted up, taking my body with them. I soon realized what was happening. “W-wait, Aurora, I meant for you to go in and talk for us!” Reasoning with her was impossible at this point, and I was flipped upside down and carried needlessly painfully, like a pegasus-shaped tote bag into the single door of the structure. The remains of a screen door served in place of the doorway as I was carried in. I’d failed my mother. I knew I was going to be a laughing stock as soon as I went in. And then, nothing happened. A second later, I was dropped on my backside, and ow, my wings. That said, nopony had reacted to us entering, the way I looked, or the thud of my cybernetic body against the hardwood flooring. “Seems you were worked up over nothing. There's nopony here.” Sure enough, looking around as I pulled myself up, Aurora was telling the truth. All the commotion I’d heard was a terminal playing some sort of show; a western set in a bar for the screen in question, something not quite up my alley; more Gwen’s thing. I went to say something, but my words caught in my throat like the bullet jamming in the revolver on the show. Something just felt incorrect to me, even as a non-western fan. The reason I shushed up was a door opening behind the bar and a shadowy figure stepping out. A tall equine? A mammal for sure. He came to the bar, whistling and wearing nothing but the light brown fur he was born with and with gemstones, trinkets and the like hanging from his antlers. Aurora must have picked up my stupidity regarding what he was. Leaning closer to me, she whispered, “He's a deer. You know, like Cold Hoof on the boat. They’re the primary species that live in this part of the world.” “Yeah, yeah, I knew that!” I'd honestly forgotten about Cold Hoof entirely. Focusing back onto the presumed bartender deer before us, I trotted forward. He pressed a button on the terminal and a big green volume bar grew smaller by the second as he turned to us, now that the western show had stopped interrupting. Sadly, I was somewhat interested in it by now. Evidently, the main character had the sheriff and the government after him, specifically some bounty hunter they'd hired named “The Dragon,” a tough son-of-a-bitch with a draw so fast, it made lightning strike and thunder boom with his bullets. “Hey!” He didn't respond, just looking at us. Aurora awkwardly shifted and the deer grabbed himself a cigarette from under the bar, lighting it with a blow torch that was inexplicably sitting at the bar. I opted to look at the drink menu displayed behind the buck. He finally spoke up, a rasp of damn near ghoulish quality in how much it sounded like a cheese grater. “You gals are an awful long way from home, ain't ya?” It took me a moment to respond, as I was transfixed on some of his menu. There were fairly normal drinks, and then there was stuff like whatever a Balefire Shot was. Its name made it sound a bit less-than-appealing; that's all I knew. Aurora cleared her throat, standing up straight and dignified. It was kinda like how the more up-their-own-ass unicorns I’d known stood and walked. “Yes that's right, we were hoping to perhaps procure a place to stay for the night as well as information about the area; directions and things of that nature.” Why had her voice become softer? Aurora, from my limited exposure to the unicorn, wasn't a loud creature or quite as bombastic as me, but she'd taken clear care to shift her voice's pitch and tone. In a way, it was just more noble, I guess was the best way to put it. The buck took in a puff of smoke, blowing out a cancerous cloud. “Well, foreigners, we ain't put up any sorta inns, ‘less ya count the jail cells other side a’ town. ‘S long as ya don't end up on Joseph’s bad side, y'all’ll be fine.” He finished by taking another draw of his cigarette. Who names their kid “Joseph,” was my main takeaway from the statement. “He’s the sheriff, I assume?” I asked. He nodded back. “Yep. Now, I’d love to tell you about little ol’ Mud’s history, from campgrounds to little shit hole, but I don't like Mud the town, nor the shit you’re covered in, lasses, so ‘less you lookin for a drink or a fuck, the big wigs in charge are in the next building over.” Looking to Aurora, she nodded at the bar keep. “Well then, that sounds like our cue to be heading off then, right, Jet?” I continued to try and figure her out. She was probably a unicorn from a more well-put-together town, maybe even a stable-dweller. Coming back out to the street, we headed due north along the street as directed, coming to where the mud path turned and opened up to the rest of the town. Beside the mayoral building on the bend were two other buildings; a church and a whore house, with a hoofball court sandwiched between the two. Directly across from them in the bend sat a landowner’s office and a little zebra filly kicking her hooves as she sat on the bar of the tollbooth-like structure. Focusing back on the municipal building, Aurora was already knocking on the door. I quickly trotted after her. “Come on in, door’s unlocked!” called a female voice out from inside. I promptly pulled the door open wide, letting Aurora and then myself enter the well-maintained and decorated main floor. A secretary desk sat not too far in, with a cute little doe sitting behind it. She opened her mouth to speak as a little red light on her desk blinked repeatedly. The next thing I knew, there was a shotgun braced against the desk. Her cheek rested firmly against the stock, not in a very sustainable or comfortable position, but all the same she was aiming a shotgun at us. My reflexive reaction was to flick my wings up, back, and just a few hair degrees out of proper flight position in order to activate my battle saddle and disable the safeties of my dual laser rifles; at this point, it was muscle memory. Aurora froze up, not even moving. She’d become as rigid as an ice sculpture, sweating enough to make up for the fact she wasn't actually made of ice. As much as I’d love to admire her body and list all the adorable things about it, my focus was keenly fixated on the doe pointing a shotgun at me. She was scared, but she didn't have the look of a soldier in her eyes. She was a civilian, and one that really didn't want to pull that trigger. “D-don't make a move, you two! Which of you is it?! Show yourself! O-or yourselves…'' Aurora pulled herself together faster than I did. “Jet, put down your guns. Ma’am, we don't mean you any harm. Trust us, we have nothing to hide. We’re not malicious.” Not quite an accurate statement, but the fact I drugged my superior’s coffee with laxatives before I bounced wasn't something I figured anypony cared about this far out. I slowly began to lower my wings. The mode-shifting rods that connected between them and the harness of the battle saddle bent back down and clicked the safety on, rising off the triggers of the two weapons. Still, my wings stayed at the ready. I didn't dare let myself relax and risk being shot in the chest. There was hesitation in the doe’s actions. The gun shook, slowly lowering before a quick snap back up. As she put the mouth-gripped trigger closer to her lips, it was, by my best estimation, too big for her to use in any proper sense. Even an experienced marksman would have their shot thrown off, having to use more energy to bite the trigger and taking away from the balancing of the gun. “I-I said stop moving! I know you’re lying!” Aurora tensed up. Her eyes said enough for me to know she was not ready for a fire fight. There was a sense of doubt, if not surprise as she moved her mouth and scrunched her muzzle, lost for a reply to give. So I did it, instead. “Look, lady, if you bite that trigger, like it or not, neither of us are going to drop before your fur’s seared and skin charred black by laser fire. But go ahead and bite that oversized trigger; hurt your jaw and hope that your gun fires well enough that at least some pellets hit us.” Now, saying that, if she did have some luck to spare and bit hard enough, I was fairly certain that either of us would become swiss cheese from buckshot. It was still survivable, but that’d suck ass on a good day. Aurora glanced back at me, clearly unsure about what I’d said, but it was effective. The gun shook in the doe’s hooves and she started to cry. Slowly, she lowered the gun as she shook before finally dropping it and letting me ease up. Aurora looked like she was about to have a whole-ass heart attack by this point. This was only amplified as a slam reverberated through the room. My feathers rose in flustered shock as the doe dropped behind the desk. I turned with Aurora to the source of the sound, the front door, just in time for a hard kick to meet the door as it came open, letting the light and the dark silhouette in. Over twice as tall as any pony, his body was muscular. The shine of chrome covered all but his head; the head of a buck, antlers tall and wide as they scratched the top of the doorframe. It was some hellish amalgamation of robotics, minotaur physiology and a deer’s head on top of his shoulders. There was silence following that, only broken as this mechanical beast walked in on his two legs; a weird enough sight on its own, with steam rising from his nostrils as he entered. Exposed mechanisms ran along the majority of his form, his chest and joints, specifically. The entity appeared genderless, but was very clearly masculine in his presence, as his eyes glowed with an icy cold blue color. My wings flared back up in preemptive caution, activating my guns. I was hanging but a hair’s breadth from letting off the charge in each clip of ammo I had into the hide of this thing as he came into the light. Aurora took a cautious step back from the imposing entity as my eyes narrowed. I analysed the logistics of grabbing said unicorn and diving out the door, but then would come the matter of finding the others in time. My planning was suddenly cut short when, faster than I really processed, he turned sharply. The next thing I knew, Aurora was on the floor, clutching her gut, curled up in a ball from being kicked in the chest. Thankfully my reaction time kicked up into high gear. That, or he was slower to the punch, but his fist barely missed my head. I pulled sharply to the side, my wings kicking dust and debris up behind me as I leapt from the ground, kicking off his arm and hovering close to the ceiling, a good few feet away from and higher than him. Glancing back to the corner where Aurora crawled off to, beside the door, a black and sleek form sat, its legs full of holes; a changeling. The revelation didn't have much chance to process as a flail swung for my legs and pulled me back into the beast’s reach. “Surrender, or be at risk of damage to life and limb.” The mouth of its deer head did not even move as the metallic voice simply escaped from it. It was unnerving to say the least, and certainly something I didn't feel too good about complying with. “You'd have to catch me for that first, tin man!” In an instant, I glanced around, and “bingo”. Kicking my legs in the air, my wings caught the wind and I sharply swung around the entire room, building speed and crashing out a window, nearly crashing into the church next door, but managing to just stop myself. Looking left, to the front of the building and the expanse out of town, I saw that deer had begun to congregate, with Enjin and Cross namely being amongst the small crowd. The deer monstrosity rounded the corner, pivoting in the mud and sprinting my way. I went to fly higher, but a sudden hard hit against my wing made me falter. I looked to where he’d hit me. Apparently, he decided that the flail wasn't working, and ripped the ball from it and shot-put it into my side. I winced and worked the appendage, feeling several tinges of pain and concluding that I had a cracked rib. My delicate wing bones likely weren't in any better state. He came up to me, and with far more grace than any god should allow this beast, he kicked off the walls, leaping for me. Unfortunately for all parties involved, he grabbed my leg and nearly pulled us both down to the ground. I wasn't about to accept that, hurt wing be damned. My engines kicked on, hard, the glowing orange flame kicking out from them as I torpedoed vaguely eastwards out of town, slamming my tagalong against a hill of dirt. And yet, that wasn't enough to shake him from my leg as he clung on like a vise. Distractedly, I looked back down to him, confirming his position instead of paying attention to the oncoming treeline full of that red mist. Dead tree branches, unsurprisingly, aren't pleasant to collide with several times in rapid succession. Obviously, we crashed into the forest, and sure, it hurt. I had sticks in my mane following the experience, but kicking free of my limp tagalong’s hand and shaking off made me realize the flipside to my predicament. The initial thing that tipped me off to something being very wrong was breathing. I took a breath in and it felt like I’d swallowed a burning lump of coal. My eyes began to water and redden as my vision grew unfocused. It was quickly becoming hard to see and my eyes were burning worse than any pink eye ever. I used a hoof to cover my muzzle, but it wasn't helping much as my nose began to run, expunging all of my sinuses’ contents, and that’s when I felt the effects over my skin. My fur was standing on end as the tips became dry and the effect began heading down. Debilitating was the right word for it. I grit my teeth, unable to properly make sounds to articulate the pain as I felt my throat grow sore and my nose burn. I fell hard into the dirt, feeling every tiny cut and bruise I’d taken in my landing grow more agitated, like screws were being twisted into the fibers of my muscles. Celestia, it fucking sucks to be alive sometimes. I couldn't decide what sucked more; this, or the fact that I felt myself being picked up by trembling and stiff hands, thrown over the shoulder of my metal sasquatch tagalong as he took to sprinting on rusting and rigid legs. He brought us pretty far, but given the fact that I’d taken us out a good mile or more, there wasn't any real chance for him to pull us all the way back to town. Thankfully, it seemed he knew that as well, as he crawled us atop a hill and locked me in a headlock. Kicking on my engines, I noted that they had begun to rust. They weren't the only thing degrading, either, as my fur just rubbed off at his touch. I had been molting for the last eighth of a mile. It took a whole four attempts kicking up and sputtering my engine, equally so burning the guy. The same guy I had been trying to run from, funnily enough. But when they finally kicked on, we soared like corpses being flung in the wind, giving the mayoral building two big dents as we tumbled into it and off the edge. My head cracked hard into the dirt as a big minotaur-deer-robot-cosplay mother fucker crushed me for what seemed to be a full seat audience of the entire town and my companions.
