War. War never changes. When balefire rained from the skies and ushered in a wave of necromantic death and disaster across Equestria, the world burned. The pegasi in their hubris took to the clouds to escape the fires that ravaged the land below, commandeering military equipment, food stocks, technology, and the very sky itself.

Utilizing the weather control stations of the Single Pony Project, or Sustainable Pegasus Project as they came to call it, the skies over Equestria became naught but dark walls to block out the sun for all the unworthy creatures below. For this singular act, the Enclave earned the eternal ire of every creature to come after the Fall of Equestria.

Being a faction made up of a single race though, meant that the sins of the Enclave also fell upon those Pegasi who remained below the clouds. From simple citizens left behind to deserting soldiers and Ministry personnel, the Wasteland shunned the winged ponies for the Enclave's actions.

As the nation shattered into warring tribes, alliances, and warbands following the devastating necromantic winter, the hatred of pegasi dulled out of necessity.

The hatred lulled to distrust, the betrayal of the pegasi slowly becoming a fact of life rather than a drastic world changing event. Almost one-hundred and fifty years after the fact, a common saying remains: 'Every pegasus is a Traitor to someone.'

This is the story of one such traitor, a soldier from the Great War itself brought back by scarcely understood technology. A traitor to the Enclave by his sheer existence, a Traitor to Equestria by his failure during the war, and most recently... a Traitor to his only remaining reason to live.

For choosing to protect the life of his Lover and those of civilians over the band of 'Wasteland Heroes' who dragged his hide across a hellish wasteland, all because a friend of theirs's remained locked in the arcane machinery bound to his heart.

This is the story of Second Lieutenant Martini Marechaser Markerlight, The last Shadowbolt.

Amid cracked, dry soil and unhealthy brush a flag flaps in the strong winds of a growing storm, green flecks of wild magic occasional brushing over the synthetic fabric of the red marker, leaving behind washes of black or silver in its surface for a moment before the dull red color returns to its surface.

It's a simple affair really, a thin metal rod of flexible material and a red triangle. Non-to different to what one would see indicating the holes of a golf course, unsurprising really considering the flags origin. As it once stood to mark a hole for the eager eye of the average pony in a game of golf, so too does it now act as a beacon for the keen sight of a pony. A crack of thunder in the distance signals a rising arc of brilliant sapphire energy far on the horizon.

Unlike lightning though this bolt of magic arc's down into the ground where it stikes a distant flag marker before it rises once more, bouncing like a rubber ball across the wasteland towards the aged banner. Once, twice, on the third bounce the arc crosses paths with a bolt of emerald-green wild magic. For a moment it seems as though the contaminating force of uncontrolled magic will overpower the sapphire blue, before the two seperate in a thunderous crack.

The arc of blue crashes down and rises for a fourth time. In its last moments before destruction, the flag whips back from the force of the wind blowing against it. As if staring up at the sapphire streak of lightning coming down upon it with contempt, then with the crash of thunder the flag is obliterated.

The wave of lightning grounds out in the short crater around the point of the flags resting place in a wave of short arches, darkening the dried soil black for almost three feet around. In its wake a heaved breath rises from the stooped crimson figure standing at the center of the lightning bolts impact.

Rising to his feet on three black-booted hooves and a single cybernetic limb stood a pegasus, his exposed face a brilliant red in color, marred by a series of small scars and bruises.

The stallion's vertically slit eyes look over the brief and violent destruction his arrival had caused, one golden amber and the second surrounded by a plasma-scoring scar, a pale yellow, take in the flickers of Wild Magic swirling in the air as he extends his oversized crimson wings.

Touching the darker tips of them against the ground as he lets the after-effects of his brief touch with the uncontrollable storm mana mesh into the dead soil around him.

Lowering his head, the rich brown and vanilla mane of the stallion trails like a wind vane from the strength of the gale, his matching tail and tufted red ears flapping in the wind behind him as he anchors into place.

Gritting his teeth in a strained growl, the pegasi bares his fangs as the wind tears at his skintight purple jumpsuit, the flashes of ever-increasing emerald lightning illuminating the pastel yellow stripes accenting the deep royal color of the uniform and highlighting its most notable addition: the white, winged equine skull insignia at his collar, and the unmistakable Cloud and Thunderbolt of Rainbow Dash resting over his uniformed flank like a cutie mark.

He hadn't intended on encountering a storm but given how close Wandering Sunrise and her party had been dragging him to Cloudsdale's last known coordinates, it really came as no surprise to the stallion.

Any of the surviving weather generators there had likely fallen into disrepair, or malfunction from overuse long ago... add to the mix that the Wild Magic of the Everfree was likely being pulled into the uncontrolled storm cycles, and there is no telling what unnatural phenomenon could be produced.

Drawing some of the wild magic from the air, the stallion flares his wings and pushes against the storm, forming a bubble of calmness in the center of the storm.

Smiling to himself, the stallion takes to the air with a powerful leap. His oversized wings fully extended to keep his wingtips in contact with the edges of the calming bubble as he soars through the violent sky, sparring only a single glance over his shoulder at the distant sight of a decrepit structure in the far distance.

Obscured mostly by the rising walls of rain and magically active lightning. Even at this distance he could make out the miniscule form of a pink and white zony at one of the first story windows.

There was no way for Chifundo to see him at this distance, but the simple fact that the beautiful shaman was still watching. It tore at the stallions' heart, not that he didn't deserve the pain for his actions.

He deserved every second of the emotional anguish flowing through him, his actions led to this. After all. Perhaps things could have been different? His choice to let one of the Bounty Hunters seeking to claim the mark on Wandering Sunrise and her band, live, for the simple price of Chifundo's survival had seemed like the only option available to him.

After all, he'd foolishly sworn a Pinkie Promise not to act against them should Chifundo remain unharmed during their attempt to kill their targets: Wandering Sunrise the explosive earth pony, Nyota the Starkatarii, and Scopolamina the Drug Dealing twenty-something Filly Scout... Three lives, three ponies who had dragged him through hell, who had blamed him from the very moment they'd met for acts beyond his control.

Nyota, who thought him nothing more than an Enclave Traitor in a different uniform. Scopolamina, who put the blame of all Wartime Equestria upon him and claimed him responsible for the Wasteland itself... and Wandering Sunrise, the mare chasing after a ghost of her own creation.

The final resting place for a fragment of Pinkie Pie, and the creature that had willingly became a weapon for the Ministry of Morale to accomplish it. A hypocrite that claimed to stand for mercy and tolerance, but in the same breath would pass fatal judgement on those she knows nothing about.

'I was careful in my wording, and even more careful in my consideration...' Had he chosen not to negotiate with the Bounty Hunters, they would have written off the entire caravan as a loss, collateral damage... and they wouldn't have been wrong. 'Had I raised the Alarm, not only would I have broken a Pinkie Promise... but they would have simply lathered the sleeping area with grenades and other forms of high explosives.

Nyota would have fallen first amongst them, his martial prowess and strength ill-prepared to face the explosive force of a dozen fragmentation grenades.

'Mina would have died second, as Pulse and Frag grenades disabled her premier weapons and shorted out her horn, followed by the fragmentation grenades. She was never one for armor, after all... and last to fall would Be Wandering Sunrise, her armor and equipment might be built to handle explosions, but volume would ensure that even she could fall... especially if out of her armor, like she usually is at night with Nyota.'

Diving under an arch of lightning, the stallion rolls over on his side and scans the clouds for the compatriot he expected to be waiting at this rally point, his expression stoney.

'...but the others would have fallen first. The caravan wasn't just us and the Hunters after all, there were over a dozen civilians mixed in. Caravaneers, traders, settlers, the gryphon mercenaries... mares and foals too. They would have died long before even Nyota had fallen, them... and Chifundo.'

A faint blurring of his eyes and a blink to dislodge the growing tear keeps the pegasi's vision clear as a dark shape in the storm flashes into visibility among a lance of lightning. Sleek and winged like himself.

'I really had no option but to make a deal at that point... if Chifundo had died, had they chosen to kill him. I would have been lost... utterly. I might have finally given in to the sirens call of bloodshed and drowned my sorrows in a slew of violence to avenge him.

Right up until the end.' Shaking his head, the stallion leveled out as the dark form descended. Her effeminate form clad in an older variation of the Shadowbolt Jumpsuit worn by the Stallion, mane and tail black as the fabric balaclava worn over her face. Leaving naught but the red of her muzzle and wings visible to decern her natural fur color. Attached to her barrel was a battle saddle of immense size, looking more akin to the wings of an aircraft and loaded down with mine deploying pods.

The mares hazzled eyes, hidden behind a pair of gold lensed purple goggles, regard the stallion with a sorrowful nod.

Her name was, Rum Rush. The Bounty Hunter responsible for him making the promise in the first place. The Bounty Hunter he could have killed had he chosen not to make that Pinkie Promise... the mare whose uncanny resemblance to himself left the stallion unwilling to strike her down.

He knew he had family left in the wasteland, descendants. Either directly from one of the previous instances where his Recombulator had activated and chosen him as the individual that would live and suffer in this hellish wasteland, or indirectly from the countless sons and daughters he'd spawned in the series of lives he likely lived.

It had been so many years since the war, he must have had hundreds by now, maybe thousands if he'd simply chosen to live up to his namesake. But without some way to unlock the memories locked behind his failing mental locks, there was no way of knowing.

As he dove past another arch of lightning and met the eyes of the Bounty Hunter, he considered for another countless moment if that was a blessing, or a curse?

"We need to get under cover!"

Despite the crack of thunder and the roar of wind, the masked mare nods. Forming up just off his right wing. Close enough for the two bubbles of calm air their enforcing around themselves to gently touch and rub against one another.

With a shift of his wings, the Stallion's bubble expands slightly, encompassing that of Rum Rush's. The mare seems briefly surprised until she adjusts her wings to support the new singular bubble of order amongst the chaos of the storm. Guided by his instincts, the stallion and his impromptu wingmare weave through the storm.

Only really altering their course to avoid errant clumps of cyan colored ambient magic, flowing through the storm like magelights in the dark clouds. Throughout it all, the stallions nose remained aimed to the south.

Following his old gut instinct for almost two hours, wings straining from the force of the gale upon their barrier, the pair breach the stormfront in a crash of arching wild lightning, each arch lashing at the edge of their little shield of order like webs.

Trying to drag them back into the chaotic embrace of the supercell. Blinking in the slightly brighter darkness of the normal wasteland, the glowing amber eyes of the stallion snap to the ground, seeking out a familiar shape amongst the rocky outcroppings.

"There!" He cries, motioning to the angular form of a nondescript building partially built into the wall of a gully far below, surrounded by an empty parking lot full of burnt out motorwagons, the dying embers of campfires, and heavy overgrowth, the outwardly civilian structure was welcome cover to any wastelander.

But to the pair of pegasi it was something far more... beneath that facade was a sizable military facility. Heavily fortified and reinforced, surrounded by a razor wire fence and guarded by a thick minefield beyond the boundary.

"Keep close, that storms going to be right back on us the moment we land!"

Rolling on his side, the stallion dove with Rum Rush following right on his tail. Pulling up just above the ground the pair fly wing to wing in a race to reach the safety of the structure, while above the pair the storm seemingly roared with rage as its prey dove for safety.

Tendrils of cloud and lightning roaring outwards from the stormfront like the fingers of a vast and malicious claw, intend on closing around the pair.

Bolts of emerald ate into the rock and soil as they closed in on the edge of the building, Rum Rush raising a hoof to shield her face as a particularly close bolt evaporated a portion of the greying brick facade of the building, pelting her with chips of glowing rock as she passed the first corner.

Snapping into a sharp turn on the second corner, the stallion flares his wings and lets his booted hooves connect with the old concrete as he slides to a halt before an old wooden door.

Gripping it by the handle with his cyberhoof, the red pegasus wastes no time in ripping the door from its hinges, revealing a four-section security blast door and its connected console.

Fumbling with the holotags beneath his collar-line, he presents them to the console's scanner as Rum Rush's panicked 'Eeep' reaches his ear.

The screen and everything around him flashing a white green as a bolt of lightning strikes the parking lot behind them close enough to fluff his feathers, then another, and another.

"Come on... Come on you heap of scrap!" He curses as the ancient OS of the console processes the credentials.

Turning to Rum Rush the Stallion watches as the fourth strike of lightning comes close enough to wash across the brickwork of the facade, with a hiss he grasps the mare and pulls her flat against the blast door as he flares his wings.

Once more forming a protective barrier of weather magic as the fifth bolt evaporates a solid foot of the brickwork only a few inches away, the arches of wild lightning flowing across his bubble of order like a thousand clawing, demanding talons.

Each tearing and ripping at the thin barrier with malicious intent.

The sixth strike finds no further brick to evaporate, catching on the solid reinforced concrete behind the brickwork.

But enough of the arching energy still clawed at the bubble to earn a strained whimper from the stallion, teeth grinding from the stress on his thaumatic lines as the wild magic wormed its way along his Zepher's Shield.

Eyes narrowed with pain; he gives Rum Rush an apologetic look. Certain that the next strike will plow through his barrier, even as the mare herself flutters her wings in a panicked attempt to form her own, when a high-pitched noise breaks the roar of the storm for but a moment, followed by an amplified, monotone voice.

Access Granted, Welcome Back Second Lieutenant Martini Markerlight.

Behind the panicking mare the vast Blast Door separates into four corners, leaving a dark 'X' in the center of the door as the first layer unlocks, then withdraws as the second and third layers of the balefire bomb-rated door withdraws into the walls of the entranceway.

Before either of the pegasi could react, the terminal pings again. "Severe Weather Detected, door closing in five seconds."

Releasing his Zepher's Shield, Martini wraps his forehooves around Rum Rush and thrusts his wings backwards, throwing the pair through the door in a rush, where the stallion comes to a crashing halt on top of the mare.

Behind them a final strike of lightning ravages the entranceway before the blast-door cycles and closes. Leaving the pair in a deathly silence as the stallion all but collapses with exhaustion atop Rum Rush, the mare wrapping all four of her hooves around him in a brief, adrenaline filled hug.

After a few moments to catch his breath, Martini's trembling hooves come to rest on the tile as he lifts the front half of himself, stopping only because of the tight death grip of the pegasus mare under him... it takes him a moment as a blush grows on his cheeks, and he is deeply relieved no-one else is around to see him in this position.

Especially with This mare in particular. She's attractive and all, but for all he knows she could be his daughter! Shaking his head, the stallion clears his throat.

"Hey, we're inside... you can let go of me."

The response was amusing... if only it wasn't as embarrassing for the stallion as it must be for Rum Rush, a veteran mercenary and bounty hunter reduced to a shuddering wreck beneath the Shadowbolt's form.

Her hooves release him almost immediately as she tries to scoot away and roll over, only to find herself stuck on her back by the large wing-like battle-saddle she'd borne. Similar to a turtle on its back, the pegasus flailed for a moment.

Trying to find a way to right herself as Martini rose to his full height and walked over.

Offering her a hoof, the mare's flailing came to a pause as she glared up at him... before reluctantly accepting it, with a quick tug the stallion pulls her bipedal, then back onto all fours with a grunt.

"Alright... well, we cleared this base out last night. There shouldn't be any turrets or Ponytron's still active on this level."

He averts his eyes from hers for a moment, letting his amber gaze run across the aged concrete of the base's angular interior.

Despite the dust that had settled on the floor and furniture of the main lobby, the dimness of the emergency lighting, and the skeleton of the unicorn at the Duty Desk, the facility was still well and truly intact... it still irked him that the bases entire population had seemingly died without a struggle.

With a sigh, the stallion lets the soft whisper of wind tickle his ears as he lets the blush fade from his cheeks.

Wait...

Blinking, the stallion extends his wings, fluffing his feathers up... and sure enough, there was a breeze. Faint though it may be, there shouldn't be a breeze in this fully sealed facility. Especially with the environmental systems offline like they were.

Turning his gaze back to Rum Rush, he smiles disarmingly. No sense in freaking her out after all, better to let her calm down while he figures things out.

"Sooo, Rum Rush. If you want to rest and get yourself cleaned up, there's Officers Quarters down that hallway there."

Lifting his hoof, Martini points to one of the two hallways leading from the Lobby. Specifically, the long length of straight hallway immediately beyond the Duty Desk to the, filled with the shattered debris of a dozen turrets, their ceiling-mounted housings long since ripped open by a mix of plasma and rifle-fire from the night prior.

"Thats the Eastern Hall, just go down that it, take a right at the T-Junction, then follow that hallway to the Barracks. The doors on the right are Officers Quarters, but the three doors on the left are for the general barracks... and those are still full of skeletons."

Those last words slip free with a hint of sorrow to them, belaying the mask of calm the stallion keeps upon his face.

Following his hoof with her head the mare nods, removing a piece of chalk and a small board from her saddlebags, with practiced precision she writes something out before presenting the board to the stallion, unsurprised at the mute's method of communication.

If your certain its safe, I'll leave your armor and equipment by the door I decide on. Don't peek on me, or I'll beat you with your metal hoof.

Reading over the written words earns a nod of acknowledgement at first, and a snort of amusement at the second. "You don't have to worry about that, I'll knock if I need to talk to you... as much as I'd like to see you try and go hooves on with me a third time." He chuckles, Rum for her part merely rolls her eyes in irritation despite the light blush lighting her cheeks.

After all, they were both in this mess because she had tried to engage him in close combat, with disastrous results on her end. It was frankly a miracle that she hadn't killed herself in her poorly executed attempts to attack the stallion the night before.

Regardless, she nods and starts down the hall at a quick trot. Leaving Martini alone in the lobby.

Once the mares tail disappears around the corner, the stallions calm mask falls, replaced by a determined frown as his flared wings direct him after the air current.

Trotting forward on silent hooves, the stallion slips into the shadows of the only other path. The Southern Hall.

Passing by the busted open or lockpicked doors of four administrative offices the stallion took great care in avoiding the discarded bones of one of the ponies whose office had been ransacked by Wandering Sunrise's group.

The rage at the back of his mind slowly adding it to the list of things he would hold against them... even if they didn't truly care about respecting the dead, beyond Chifundo.

Stepping through the door at the end of the hall and into the four-way intersection beyond. Martini found his gaze rising to the still-sparking remains of the four turrets that had protected this place. Granted, the raised ceiling at this intersection meant that none of them could fire down any of the halls, their position did ensure that anyone attempting to go through this intersection would find themselves pelted by small arms fire.

That alone would have raised the alarm...

tilting his head to the western hall of the intersection, the stallion continued to follow the breeze towards the door to the motor pool, only to pause as his eyes settled on something he had missed in his initial sweep of the base with Sunrise and her party.

A vent... nothing important really, were it not for the fact that the grill was left ajar, sitting over the wall mounted vent rather than fixed into its mountings. Folding his wings, Martini stepped closer to the unsecured vent, the tufts of his ears leaning forward as neared it.

...

......

.........there!

It was faint, but he could hear the faint whistle of air across the fan blades of the ventilation system. Pushing the vent cover aside to admit himself, the pegasus ducked his head into the vent.

Followed by his forelegs as he slipped into the maintenance gap beyond, it wasn't anything fancy, just a simple crawlspace to allow workponies to maintain elements of the ventilation system.

The cold steel beneath his boot's echoes with every light step as he stepped between banks of old wiring, fan-blocked tunnels, and rows of broken emergency lighting... broken?

A brief flicker of his amber eyes confirmed that the red lighting tube ahead of him was shattered, a worrying sign, given Chifundo had mentioned them being 'Bad Juju' to him, an old but understandable phrase he used to describe things that he found uncomfortable on the spiritual level.

Perhaps the emergency lighting had been warded against Spirits? . . . ...that thought only made the destruction of the emergency lighting in this area more chilling. Perhaps it hadn't been a leaked chemical agent that had killed everyone within like he'd assumed, but something far more insidious? Carefully, the stallion pressed forward.

At the end of the crawlspace, he found the rungs of a ladder leading down to the lower level... and an uncomfortable sight with it. At the bottom of the shaft was the skeletal form of a pony clad in the distinctive multicam of the Equestrian Army. A soldier, perhaps even one of the ponies who operated the vehicle bay... or maybe just someone passing by who chose to investigate?

Grabbing a hold of the rungs and swinging his flank over the edge, Martini slowly descended towards the fallen soldier only to stop half-way down as an unusual sensation fell over him, familiar... almost... the stallions' eyes widening in horror as an airless gasp slipped from his lips. Flaring his wings, he threw himself upwards towards the ladder rungs at the top of the chute, ignoring the pain shooting up his twin appendages as they clattered along the metal plating of the crawlspace. At the top of the shaft the stallion chokes down a breath of air greedily.

"F-faust fuck me with a three-footer... I was hoping it wouldn't be spirits." Letting his pulse settle and his breathing return to normal, Martini took a deep breath and once more traversed the ladder.

Once again, he found the uncomfortable sensation, and only now properly registered it from the growing weakness in his wings... An Aura of Emptiness, years of dealing with Spirits and Shamans on the battlefield reminded the stallion that his dwindling air supply was the only thing that would keep him alive down here.

So as his hooves touched the steel plating next to the skeletal body of the soldier... a Gunnery Sergeant he could tell at a glance, the Shadowbolt wasted no time. Looking into the crawlspace beyond, he could make out a distant shape, maybe twenty meters down the length of the space. But the number of pipes and conduits meant he'd need to crawl...

'Well, the ladies always said I work better on my knees...' With a grin, the stallion dropped low, dragging himself along the tightness of the space. 'Okay, twenty meters, this is nothing...' pausing to duck his head under a particularly low coolant pip, Martini frowns at the growing light... and the growing weakness in his limbs.

'Fifteen meters...' The light continues to grow closer, a malevolent flicker of orange and red. 'Ten meters...' The empty feeling in the stallions' wings was starting to send spikes of cold pain up his spine, earning a wince as he continues to grow closer, pulling himself past a water junction. The source of the odd light almost visible. 'Five me~ergh!

"Fu-!"

The curse is cut off as quickly as it emerged as the stallion slams his jaw closed, lungs pained with the loss of air as every nerve connected to his spasming cybernetic left hoof fires off at once, the pain nearly forces a pained cry to slip from his lips and claim yet more of his invaluable air... but he didn't come this far to die now! Dragging himself the last five meters with a twitching left foreleg, he found it.

A single body, not a skeleton like the others. Laid curled around the glowing form of a simple black candle. The Blue stripes marking the young fillies coat identified her as a Zony... likely the daughter of one of the uncountable Zebra who immigrated to Equestria before the war began, and worse still... likely the daughter of one of the many sleeper agents employed by the Kaiser's Legion throughout the conflict.

There were rumors of spies training lineages as far back as three generations, made to strike at Just the right moment. Acting like normal Equestrian citizens, until the time finally came. The stallions' amber eyes shifted from her still form to the black candle as he dragged himself into the space. Lungs screaming at the lack of air, he lifted his rubber-booted right hoof and brought it down on the candle with a solid 'thud!'.

He barely had time to lift his hoof before he found himself thrown against the wall violently, crying out in pain as he felt the steel plating behind him dent from the impact. His ears rang and his head throbbed, while his fur felt as though someone thrown him into the wall of a Tornado again.

With a deep heaving breath, the stallion managed to draw some of the fast-moving air to fill his beleaguered lungs... and then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. The stallion dizzily raising his head and seeing only the darkness of the crawlspace. But he could breathe again... he could feel the air moving again!

Drunkenly, Martini lowers a hoof to his saddlebags, drawing a single watered down healing potion from it and downing the watery concoction, coughing as some of the healing liquid went down the wrong way... but that didn't matter as the blurring, dizziness faded.

Rolling over onto his belly, the stallion winced as his repaired eardrums popped. It was then that he heard a sound he could only smile at. The subtle roar of restarting electronics, followed not a second later by the standard lighting of the crawlspace igniting, bathing the space in a soft yellow-white.

"Spirit of Emptiness... I knew they could drain magical power. Didn't know they could drain air..." He murmurs, mostly to himself.

Tilting his head to consider the corpse of the filly, the stallion pauses, finding no sign of the candle or the filly... nothing but dust flowing down the nearest ventilation shaft. 'Was she even really there to begin with?' Suppressing a shudder, the stallion once more reinforced that this is why he didn't mess with Spirits or Shamans unless absolutely necessary.

They might not hold a candle to a Warlock in terms of power, but even the weakest of shamans can bring calamity upon their foes. Chifundo had proven that with his ability to tame even the most dangerous of creatures and take heads off at range with his hunting rifle with ease despite his nature as a Shaman of Life... though the fact he bore more than just the usual stallion bits beneath his tail, meant one could certainly argue that he was more a Shaman of Fertility than Life.

Shaking his head to clear the mental image of Chifundo's rear from his mind before he focused too hard on, Martini regained his footing, swaying slightly as he once more dragged himself along the pipes and conduits towards the uniformed skeleton by the ladder. With the primary lighting and ventilation reactivated, the tight space felt far less oppressive... perhaps that had been the spirits doing, Moreso than the environment?

Regardless, the stallion paused as he reached the remains of the Gunnery Sergeant, taking care to secure his holotags from the chain around his neck. In the magical void created by the Spirit of Emptiness their magical charge had been badly suppressed, but now both of the tags glowed brightly with the name of the poor soul who almost stopped this silent massacre. Even as he read over the name, a strong southern voice whispered in his ear. A brief memory of a few words from a life long since passed slipping free.

"You can call me Gunny, Gunny Master, Sergeant Metal, or Sir~"

...

Gunnery Sergeant Master Metal

...he knew this stallion, perhaps it had been while he was stationed here... maybe it was earlier? But with his memories so jumbled and unclear past the point where he had reluctantly joined Wandering Sunrise and her crew at gunpoint, it was impossible to tell.

Still, he wouldn't forget him here. He'd be back later with a body bag. Gently, almost tenderly, the stallion gives Gunny's remains a soft pat, pausing as something metallic shifted beneath his form.

Carefully reaching down with his wing, Martini pulls the thin form of a key from beneath the Gunny's left foreleg... a simple thing really, tarnished steel with a space for a chain or string to tie it off at the base of the key. In the hooves of any other soldier, it would be little more than just a key. But in the hooves of the Gunny..."

'I need to check the Armory when I'm done here.'

It had been the only place he knew that Sunrise or her husband Nyota couldn't have broken into, even Scopolamina with all her magic prowess wouldn't be able to do more than dent the heavily reinforced doors of the main armory. Especially since the entire crew had seemed utterly convinced that the little test range in the bases lower levels was the main armory... Shaking his head at the ridiculousness of that line of thought.

Martini offered one last thanks to Sergeant Metal as he pocketed the key and grabbed the rungs of the ladder. Climbing back up to the main floor the stallion pulled himself up and over the edge, glad to finally be back up on his hooves, rather than scrunched down in the tight cavities of the base... pegasi just weren't meant to be put in tight spaces.

Even a quarter-bat pony like himself found the claustrophobic space deeply uncomfortable. It truly made him wonder how some pegasi could have ever lived in the Stables after the bombs fell.

Trotting down the dimly lit maintenance corridor past the now-running fans of the ventilation system, the pegasus could only smile. With the power restored and the Enviromental Systems seemingly back online, maybe he could actually get some rest... but first, had had something to check.

Stepping out of the vent and into the open hall, the stallion turns and continues down the easter hall towards the motor pool.

His cadence slowing as he approaches the door and steps into the abandoned bays, the disassembled forms of at least two combat-motorwagons visible in the bays to his left, while the remains of the two Construction Ponytron that had been active in High Security-mode still laid where he had left them in the bay to his right.

Stepping into the room proper, the stallion steps over to the first bay and then to the armored double doors lying just beyond.

Pushing them open, Martini stops. "Your weapon is your life, don't lose it." Turning his head to find the source of the sound, the stallion finds nothing... and with nothing to stop him, he steps into the bare room beyond.

A heavily armored counter with a series of equally armored, and sealed, slits set into it forms an impenetrable wall. Broken only by the intimidating frame of the door leading through the miniature fortification.

'This is it... no wonder they didn't find it. None of them even bothered to check out the Motor Pool...' The pegasus scoffs, removing the key from his pocket with a wing as he approaches the door.

With reverence, he slides the key into the lock and turns. With the clatter of three different locks despite the single keyhole, the near half-a-hoof thick door opens smoothly and quietly. Belaying its form, to reveal a room with no skeletons. Perhaps the Gunny was the last one in and was on his way to bed when he chased that Filly into the vents? It would certainly explain the lack of skeletons.

But what the room lacked in death; it made up for in ways to bring it about. Extending on for dozens of meters and lined with racks upon racks of service rifles, With the racks extending up beyond the reach of even the tallest earth pony, something probably handled by the near ten-foot-tall ladder attached to the end of each row of shelves. There had to be hundreds of the simple weapon... maybe more than a thousand!

Walking down the first three rows of Service Rifles, the stallion finally found a different type of weapon, the lightened Service Carbine... not much different compared to the standard Service Rifle, a little more compact, not as heavy. It was mostly a Non-commissioned officer's gun, the thing you hock off to a corporal.

But beyond that first rack of Carbines lay the true tools of destruction the stallion was hoping to find. Racks of .45 Auto sidearms, their pristine forms glinting in the armory light... calling for a wielder. Light Grenade Rifles, fitted for 25mm rounds.

Crates of EG67 Fragmentation Grenades, ten pairs of G113 Sniper Rifles, the premier equestrian Long-Range Rifle and Triple-S Markspony Carbines for spotters. There were even a full two racks of Bazooka's, and three racks of machine guns. Both of the light and heavy variety.

Not including the hundreds of crates resting behind the ammo-cage at the back of the armory, there was enough munitions and equipment here to outfit not just a full company of infantry... but handle replacements for lost equipment on top of that! "Sweet Celestia's plump white flank... Thank You, Gunny." The stallion smiles, clutching the armory key close to his chest like a treasured artifact.

Taking a moment to still his beating heart, Martini made his way back up to the front of the armory. Letting his eyes trail over the counters, he spies a clipboard with some bound papers on it. "Ah... please be the manifest, please be the manif- yes!" He hisses happily... only to stop on the first line.

"One thousand, five hundred M12 Service Rifles..." Carefully scanning down the exhaustively detailed list of explosives, weapons, equipment, armor, uniforms, and ammunition, he sets the clipboard back down, a prideful tear slipping from his eyes. For the first time since he woke up... he doesn't have to worry about ammunition.

'I have options, actual bucking options!'

Stepping back outside the armory, he locks the door and tucks the key into a pocket at his right shoulder. "Well, that's going to be a treat to go through... for now. What else do I need to do?" He wondered aloud, his tired hooves taking him back into the Motor Pool... then to the hallway beyond as his trail weaves through the base, heading to the same area he'd pointed Rum Rush only a half-hour prior.

The Officers Quarters of the Barracks.

"Oh buuuuuuck yeeeeees~" To say that Martini was happy to find a room in the officers section of the barracks without a skeleton in the bed would be accurate, to then say that he was pleased to find that the officers' quarters each contained their own personal refresher station, including a small shower powered by a built-in water talisman... "Goddesses yeeeees, it feels so gooood~! ...would be true, but utterly fail to capture the gravity of that statement.

His jumpsuit and boots abandoned by the room's door, along with the fairly ugly 'tinfoil' variant sky camo that Sunrise had given him. Having grabbed it alongside the rest of his kit as he passed the room Rum Rush had claimed for her own, the crimson pegasus writhed in guilty pleasure beneath the steaming water of a hot shower.

His scarred red pelt on full display as he balanced bipedally in the stream of hot water, wings flared hard enough for one to mistake it as arousal as the steaming water flowed down their feathered lengths, earning twitches from both of the limbs as the heat reached deep into the stressed tissue of the stallions muscles.

Turning to present his front to the water, the pegasus lets his head dip into the spray, moaning contently as the hot water streams down his aching muscles and bruised spine.

'By Luna... I missed having access to a warm shower, if Sunrise comes back to blow this place up like she said she wanted too... I'll fight her just to keep this shower intact' That silent vow stated, the stallion continued to soak in the spray.

Resting his mechanized forehoof against the tile beneath the showerhead the stallion blinked through the pleasant spray, reaching up to a small metal basket hanging from the water source for a bar of soap with the feathers of his lengthy right wing.

Sure, he could have used his flesh and blood hoof, or even his cyberhoof. But even he knew not to trust either of those with a brick of wet soap... besides, his feathers were going to get a good sudding as well.

Gripping it tight in his wing, the stallion curls his limb to run the bar across his forelegs, then up his crimson shoulders in smooth strokes as he lathers them the alluring scent of Sandalwood.

'At least Nyota had a decent nose for soaps...' The stallion smirks, a quiet snort slipping from his fanged lips as his wing carries the bar up his neck.

The tip of the bar bumping lightly against his chin with each pass before sliding back down, sending shivers up Martini's spine as it slides across the fresh scar tissue across his chest. A permanent reminder of how close his careless words had brought him to the edge of death again... by Blackhawk no less, then again, that snowy-white mare had been drunk, they both were.

'She'd waved around that Plasma Defender, so certain that Chifundo and I had been bucking... and I made the mistake of shouting "It was just casual sex!" ...Goddess's, imagine if that had been the end of me?' Letting his wing trail lower down to his belly, the stallion sighs in through. 'I don't even know why I said it, neither of us had slept together like that... yet.

But she shot me just the same, then Chifundo came barreling in~' Tilting his head slightly to let the scarring around his eye soak in the warm water, the pegasus shuddered.

'I don't even remember the second shot... just a flash of darkness, before I woke up in that cell with Quick Stitch. for all his skill there wasn't all that much he could do.'

Blinking away the water around his eyes, Martini lets his gaze rest on the cybernetic hoof at the end of his left foreleg. It had long since healed thanks to the powerful unicorn doctor, but the damage was done.

'They could have left me alone in that cell, untreated... I wouldn't have survived without Quick Stitch, but the last thing I expected Chifundo to do was stay with me.' Lowering his head to let the water flow across his back, the pegasus shudders again.

Seemingly without noticing, the wing baring the bar of soap slides lower along his belly, brushing along the folds of his darker sheath.

'I gave him every ounce of trust I had... he was more than just a friend, or a casual fuckbuddy after that.'

Letting his mind fog over as the blunted, dark red form of his stallionhood slips free of its matching sheath. The stallion's wing drops below the growing length, supporting it atop the sandalwood-scented bar, and wrapping it in a tunnel of crimson feathers as all 14 inches of the pegasus meet the moist air of the hot shower.

'He listened to my story, and rather than reject me... he embraced me as a lover, even wounded as I was. He found a way to fill our first night together with bliss~ Bracing his right hoof against the tile, the crimson pegasus moans. As his soapy feathers glide along his glistening length, unconsciously matching the speed of the stallions non-so-distant memory.

'It wasn't like just having sex... there was something, more? A connection I hadn't felt before. The pleasure was there, but that feeling, that warm sensation at my very core... whatever it was, whatever We were, was different to the innumerable partners I've been with before now.'

Braced against the wall, it doesn't take much for him to buck against the tight embrace of his wing. ...the way he held me, kissed me... f-fu-fuuu~' Clenching his teeth with a hiss, the crimson stallions pride flaring for a moment, leaking a generous string of slimy pre as his bucking slows.

'He knew just how far to go before I gave him every drop, how to tempt me to the very edge... before pushing me over~' With a tightening of his wing and three rapid thrusts into the squeezing embrace, Martini hisses in bliss as the brunt of his seed splatters against the tile before him.

The thick lines of viral ivory flowing down the rows of grout with the water of the shower as it trails down towards the floor, and the drain beneath the stallion's hind-legs. Letting the tension fade from his soiled wing, the stallion lets the soap-slick form of his cock hang on its own as the.

Raising his head above the streams of water, the stallion allows it to spray along his underbelly and wash away any sign of his deviant dalliance with the bar of soap. His glistening tool soaking in the streams of purified water as whatever hints of seed or soap fade away.

Leaving nothing but the gentle scent of clean sandalwood to mark the stallion's crotch. 'Luna help me... I miss him already~ I hope he's safe, wherever he is.'

Looking up at the ceiling, Martini closes his eyes. Offering a brief prayer for the gentle hermaphrodite's protection to whoever might be listening, the crimson stallion simply stands in the spray of water... relishing it for as long as he can.

Of course, eventually all good things must come to an end... but in the stallion's case, it's merely trading one pleasure for another as he finally shuts off and steps out of the shower, dropping down onto all fours again as he snags a fresh towel from a hook by the sink.

This newest pleasure for the stallion's perusal happens to be the most enticing for any soldier serving in a hellish multi-month operation in the great outdoors. Namely, a soft bed with recently washed and dried sheets.

Both having thoroughly been de-dusted, washed, and in the case of the sheets, conditioned! So as the last errant drops of water are wiped from the stallion's coat, it comes to no surprise that the next pleasure he intends to indulge in is the simple pleasure of sleep.

To that end he hangs the towel on the hook once more and trots over to the door where his saddlebags, abhorrently tin-foil colored armor, carefully removing a simple talisman from an internal pocket of the armor's neckline.

Gently pulling it over his head and letting it settle against his chest as the string holding it snags on his neck, like a long necklace. It's a simple affair really, a rudimentary carved piece of wood wrapped in blue beaded string. Not even really a Spiritually Blessed item, not that it mattered to Martini.

Chifundo had made it for him, to help him sleep well at night... while it wouldn't be like sharing a bed with the stallion, at least he would be free of the nightmares that haunt his dreams.

Those thoughts are what bring a smile to the crimson stallion as he pulls himself into the bed. 'But do I truly deserve to sleep without worry... after betraying his trust?' Once more, the voice of doubt rears its snake-like tone, slipping in at the moment when the stallion feels most at ease... but, maybe it was right?

Did he truly deserve Chifundo's blessing after everything he'd done; did he deserve to sleep soundly while his lover would have to deal with the antics of Sunrise and her little clique alone?

Laying back against the plush pillow, the pegasus could only stare down at the talisman in uncertainty.

...

......

He didn't really deserve the peace it gave him...

Reverently, the stallion removed the talisman. Handling like one would a holy artifact as he set it down on the nightstand beside the bed. Tonight, he would try to manage it alone.

Tomorrow, he would start working to regain the trust he'd burned. Perhaps the dreams would come easily tonight...? As the stallion settled into the inky claws of sleep, the dreams he prayed would come failed him. In their place only the nightmares he deserved filled the void.

As he thrashed and wept through the night in the eerie green light of the Plasma Rifle leaned up within reach, clutching the plush form of the pillow in a vain attempt to ward them off, the stallion fell deep into the embrace of his fears. Unaware of the faint darkness glittering over the scar across the rear width of his lower neck like a shimmer of smoke.

-----------------The Military Base----------------

Author's Note

I updated the character art with pieces commissioned from LazyMichel.