Fallout Equestria: Dead Tree - The Crimson Path

Two hours.

...

It took two long, painful hours for Martini to recover from the funeral. Two hours of brutally repressed emotions flowing as freely as the tears from his eyes, or wails from his throat. Two hours to release the condensed pain of a months' worth of abuse, blame, and anger... but more than that, two hours to release the grief for the world that Equestria had truly become.

When they had first met, Scopolamina had told Martini that it was the fault of him and those like him that had doomed Equestria to become the Wasteland it is today. At the time he'd denied it, he'd tried to refuse the blame... the very act doing little to lessen the cracks it crafted in his compromised mental state. The mare's words had driven the hardened soldier to near insanity as his mind struggled to find a way to prove them false.

But the drugged-up bitch of a unicorn was both blunt... and honest in her statement. Though perhaps not to the extent she'd meant.

As an officer in service to the Ministry of Awesome, he had been called upon to perform tasks and missions in secrecy. Missions that more often than not crossed the borders of morality, from assassination and sabotage to kidnapping and false flags, the stallion had a plethora of experience in the art of wetwork.

He had eliminated or captured targets among the Legions of Zebrica, Legionaries, Centurions, Praetorians, ... even a Warlock once at the behest of the Ministry of Morale during a joint-Ministry operation. Not an easy feat for even an experienced operative given the near god-like status of Warlock's on the battlefield. Being both a Shaman trained from birth and bound intimately with a fragment of the most ancient and powerful of spirits, even the lowest of Warlock could and has shattered entire armies of their opposition.

But his skill with blade and infiltration alike wasn't purely used against External foes. Spies, political opponents to the War's swift conclusion, foreign officials in neutral territories, collaborators... the families of those collaborators, and more. The blood coating the stallion's hooves was as crimson as the fur coating his body.

One could even say that his color suited his work well... no matter how much blood he waded through, no one would notice the stains on his brilliant red coat. But for all the horror he had inflicted on the enemies of Equestria, for all the suffering and pain he had brought upon them, he suffered as well.

Traumatic as his deeds may have been, Martini had carried them out over his years of service without question. He savored the days he was given operational control, for those were the days that saw the least blood being spilled. Normally it would only be the target, no retribution against loved ones, no accidents removing a generation of their family during a quiet get-together. No untimely creation of orphans...

...But most of the time, his missions were planned by the more merciless members of the Ministry's internal planning team. Say what you will about the Ministry of Awesome's Official Record, but the reports that never saw the public eye were filled with coldly efficient mission logs. Each and every one of them carried out after exhaustive research and review before being passed on, and each one carried out to perfection as often as one would expect.

For a stallion like Martini, every step through hock-high blood was done in the name of Equestria, each a heavy and painful step towards peace. Towards a conclusion that would see the citizens of Equestria safe from the horrors of war, He and those like him had shouldered the unseen burden of doing what needed to be done. So, to awaken in the hellscape of the Wasteland, one-hundred and fifty~odd years after The War had ended, to see the devastation wrought upon the world...

Had he been a lesser stallion, he would have simply taken his own life then and there... instead he forced it down like he was trained to, deep into himself as his mind struggled with the horrifying realization: that everything he had done, that they as a Ministry, had done... had all been for nothing.

With those words, Scopolamina had shattered an agent who had stood eye-to-eye with one of the Caeser's Centurions. She'd created a broken soul who desperately clung to any Cause he could, throwing himself into battle with an unspoken wish to simply die. To Martyr himself for even the smallest chance at redemption. Perhaps that was why he remained with Wandering Sunrise for so long? Fortunately, thanks in no small part to Chifundo... he eventually recovered. But the repressed anguish remained, until the dam finally gave way.

But unlike when Scopolamina had broken his will, Martini was in a far better state... he even had a wing to vent into, as Rum Rush had been quick to layer him in the embrace of her feathers. Despite everything, even her nature as a bounty-hunting mercenary. She had treated him with more care than many of his recent companions, with the notable, pink-striped exception and Quick Stitch the Miracle Doctor as standouts.

So it was; that the stallion and mare would eventually end up back inside the facility's lobby, resting against the unmanned Duty Desk. The team of Ponytron's long since returned to their charging racks and the armored doors of the base resealed against the chaos of the wasteland.

For Rum Rush it had been awkward to comfort the crimson stallion, but as the second hour began to stretch towards a third, the pegasus began to recover. He began to think, he began to remember his training. Among these thoughts, he settled on an old tried and true method to mentally recover.

Something that the red mare had been surprised by when he had extracted himself from her wings with a few muttered words of thanks as they separated. He had hoarsely mentioned getting his hoof blades to practice before wandering off towards the barracks, which was how she came to find herself rooted to the Duty Desk, watching the stallion before her dancing through the air with his hoof blades.

. . .

Coming to rest on the aged tile of lobby in a bipedal stance, Martini brought both of his foreleg's upper halves flush against his body, with his hooves held out ahead of him in preparation for his next kata. To him it was a natural stance, one he found comfort in despite its purpose. Flaring his wings, he pushed himself forward, left hind leg kicking off the ground as he lashed out at an imaginary target below him.

With a sharp twist of his right wing the pegasi's leap transitioned to a quick and precise landing, one which would have put him behind the 'target' he'd struck with his first blow. His trailing left foreleg lashing out in a wide swing on landing that could have struck another individual in close proximity had one been present, before planting in the imaginary spine of his ethereal foe. A quick move meant to dispatch at least one of two attackers in close proximity.

After all, that was the purpose of his art... Stance Five of the Ministry of Awesome Martial Arts Program was almost exclusively used by flyers due to its reliance on maneuverability. Sure, an Earth Pony or Unicorn could learn it, but only those with wings were capable of taking the Feather Trot Stance to its full potential. Forgoing the flashy and extravagant moves of other arts in favor of cold efficiency.

As an art created purely for war against the numerically superior Zebra, every stance of MoAMAP was designed to be used against groups.

Compared to the drug-fueled battle fever that was Doom Bunny-style, the more speed dependent yet similar Gryphonian Robin-style, or the once-common Skydancer school that had served as the basis for nearly every flier within the Ministry of Awesomes Ranks, Markerlight included. It was brutally efficient in its simplistic grace.

Every movement was meant to be carried out without hesitation. Serving as an exceptional counter to the Zebrecian's hard-striking, stealth focused Fallen Caeser-style and the ever-versatile pistol-art of Gun Kata, MoAMAP could have been a true staple of Equestrian Soldiering. Something to rival the nearly universally practiced Fallen Caeser-style of the Zebra Legions... had the war not ended. Of course.

But the stallion didn't think about what 'Could' have happened. He merely focused on the Here and the Now as he repeated the simulated strike. The familiar repetitiveness of the action drawing his mind from the mental anguish he'd nearly drowned in, an old habit he picked up after his first missions with the Ministry.

Back when he questioned himself every night over what he was doing. He'd rested in a horrid spot back then, caught between his own morality and the cruel grind of conflict. Thankfully, he wasn't alone in those thoughts... neither was he the first to question themselves.

...and unlike the Ministry of Morale, who would have done away with the pain through gratuitous drug use, or the Ministry of Image's willingness to merely pluck those troublesome memories from the minds of their agents. Rainbow Dash's Ministry handled things more efficiently, sure the memory-plucking method could be used.

But the MoA was more likely to help improve their agents mental hardening through vigorous, ofttimes brutal training regimes. But for Martini, he had been privileged to receive a trainer who understood the value of his morality and helped console him through even the hardest of times.

It was because of her that he held onto himself and didn't drift into the cold detachment that more than a few of his fellow Agents fell to. All this she did, not just for him, but for any Agent whom she was asked to take on... practically every Shadowbolt had seen her at least once, not only as somepony to talk to, but as one of the Ministry's foremost experts on Zebra Martial Arts.

All because she promised a good friend of hers, that she would happily help in any way she could.

Her name was Zecora, and among the Ministry of Awesomes greatest secrets she was one of the most valued, and most openly known within the Ministry. As the primary trainer for nearly every successful graduate of the Shadowbolts Martial Arts Advanced Course, there was not a Veteran Shadowbolt alive who held her in low regard.

She was calm, confident, always willing to listen and offer advice in her odd rhyming way, even to those students who frustrated her to no end. Sure, there were some who questioned her loyalty in the beginning, given her status as an Equestrian Zebra. But the only ones who truly believed such drivel were those who had never trained under her guiding hoof.

'I wonder what she'd say if she saw the world now?' Martini sighed as his Kata came to an end, after all. When Zecora had died. Nearly every active Shadowbolt had mourned her loss, Rainbow especially had been heartbroken to hear of her old friend's death. The only one who likely had it worse was her killer, a stallion named Applesnack.

The stallion's eyes narrowed as his imaginary target took on a larger frame, a sickening lime-green coat and golden mane spreading across the imagined killers combat armor-garbed form. ruby-red eyes glaring out with utter disinterest from beneath a helmet, marred by the words 'Better wiped than striped' as he leveled the familiar form of a Combat Rifle.

'Sure, the green bastard couldn't have known that the zebra mare he murdered was serving the Ministry of Awesome, or that she was being positioned to become a double agent... and he had reasonable cause. But every Veteran Shadowbolt in service had seen the recovered memories from his point of view, thanks to an 'unknown associate' within the Ministry of Morale providing the 'unofficial copies' of Applesnack's voluntarily provided memory, these had wormed their way through the ranks as word of her death spread. Had it been a Zebra that had killed her, our rage would have been targeted into our future operations. Against our enemies...'

Adjusting his forelegs position and widening his hindlegs placement, the stallion slipped into the comforting embrace of the Counter Kata Stance as he leapt forward. The imagined Applesnack before him leveling an M8 Grand at the pegasus, the familiar, deep bark of the rifle echoing in the stallion's ear from memory.

'Instead, that bastard of an earth pony beat her to death when she tried to surrender.' Two shots would have missed, passing over his left shoulder had they been real. 'The damned brute couldn't even follow the established protocol for surrendering spies.'

Reaching his immaterial target, Martini's left hoof-blade struck upwards, connecting with where the wooden body of the rifle would exist in the real world and pushed its muzzle towards the ceiling, the act forcing the imagined green stallions head to snap up as his jaws clamped on the trigger bit with each attempt to bring the gun back down. Four unintended shots would have taken to the ceiling tiles as the massive earth pony tried in vain to avert the quick jab of Martini's right hoof-blade into the space between the combat armors collar, and the unprotected throat of the towering soldier.

A quick twist of the blade would have severed the spine and vulnerable arteries running through the neck of a real pony. But like every other time this particular imagined foe appeared in his training sessions, the stallion merely faded away like smoke in a strong wind. Leaving Martini to set himself up for his next Kata.

A frown of disappointment flickering across his muzzle. After all... that green bastard deserved it, it was just a shame the Zebra outpaced the Shadowbolts in killing him, along with the rest of the world.

'Even if he survived the bombs, he's long dead by now...'

Settling in the Counter Kata Stance once more, Martini's imagination conjured up two replacement foes three ponylengths ahead of him. The familiar form of The Green Bastard and a similar sized yellow stallion faced him, bayonets glinting from their rifles.

With a silent growl the stallion was upon them in his standard bipedal stance, left hoofblade lashing out to redirect the blow of Applesnack's improvised spear. With a mental crack of metal and a twist of his hoof, the illusionary bayonet slid harmlessly past the pegasi's head and over his left wing. His right hoofblade however missed the rifle entirely as Martini's right hindhoof kicked off the tile. Carrying him over the imagined attack before delivering a blow with his right wings leading edge to the yellow stallions unprotected eyes.

A crippling move, given the crimson stallions preference for bearing Wingblades. A quick follow-up slash from his right hoofblade would have opened the neck of the illusionary soldier, leaving only Applesnack to contest him. A feat he would only accomplish for an additional three seconds of backpedaling. With sharp, controlled swings the pegasus cut the imaginary target down to size in satisfying speed. Satisfying, to an extent.

After all, every time he found himself facing down Applesnack, it reminded him of one more thing to mourn... mourning. The word caught the stallion for a moment, interrupting his preparations for yet another Kata as his mind drifted backwards a mere two days, to the hours following Rum Rush and her fellow mercenaries attempt to claim a Bounty on Wandering Sunrise and her crew. 'When I told her how they killed her team's sniper, she seemed so... broken. She must have cared a great deal for that unicorn, she didn't deserve to have those gryphons carve her open like beasts.'

Turning his gaze to the watching form of Rum Rush, the stallion once more became aware of her enamored gaze. Not entirely unsurprising really... after all, he'd all but destroyed her in close combat before they came to an agreement on Chifundo's safety. Something he had done while holding back. So, to see him practicing MoAMAP without reservation must be both a haunting and awe-inspiring sight. Starting as the stallion's amber gaze lands upon her, the mare responds with a nervous smile and the faintest hint of sweat beading on her exposed muzzle.

With a sigh the stallion drops back onto all fours, his hoofblades touching the tile and retracting into their spring-loaded holsters with a slight incline of his hooves. Hidden, unseen, silent, yet capable of appearing in a moment's notice to cut even the toughest of enemies down to size. A good assassin's weapon, or backup melee blade. "Hey, Rum Rush... tomorrow I want to head back to the ambush site and see about giving your friend a proper burial."

The nervous smile on the mare's muzzle fades quickly with the stallion's words. The slump of her shoulders, the slight decline of her head... yeah, that unicorn meant something to her alright. Dipping her head to tap away at her Workhorse unit, the mare quickly turned the screen to face him.

Bury her here?

There was a quiver in the mare's posture as Martini shook his head in confirmation. Once more she flipped the tablet around and typed on it before presenting the screen. She clearly typed out something lengthy before shortening it to a simple question.

When?

Giving Rum Rush a sad smile, Martini let his words ring with certainty. "Tomorrow, first thing in the morning... its better that we handle it soon~" He left the darker side of his statement in the depths of his mind, after all. There wasn't any need to worry the ruby pegamare about the possibility of wildlife digging up the graves, not yet at least.

The statement, the decision, seemed to breath some saddened life back into the mare. Her shoulders straightened as she rose stiffly to her hooves. With a nod she rounded to start towards the barracks when an echoing roar filled the lobby... not the cry of some great beast, or an abomination. But the grumble of a modestly ignored stomach. With a blush that could light up the room, the red mare pointedly avoided the amused expression of her companion... until a second, greater groan of hunger echoed out from the pegasus stallion's own belly.

"...ah." The stallions mirthful snickering grew as a mix of embarrassment and amusement simply left him giggling. A sound that the pegamare simply couldn't ignore as her own amused snort followed the stallion's laughter. "You know, let's get something to eat first... I can cook now that the kitchen's cleared up." The quirked eyebrow from the mare left the stallion 'hmm'ing in indignation. "What, I can cook!" Even for a mute, the silent laughter almost seemed to carry in the quiet halls.

...

As it turns out, Martini was not joking when he said he could cook, and more importantly he was an excellent judge of calorie needs. As the meal he crafted from the vast array of stasis-bound meats, canned goods, and preserved plants had not only come out tasting delectable but was just filling enough to leave the pegamare feeling content. Not full, not stuffed. But content.

His own meal consisted of a grilled steak of salmon, actual, real, saltwater salmon... on a bed of rice. Simple in concept, but seemingly enough for him. With a seemingly endless supply of purified water to slake their thirst, and a good number of wartime drinks to choose from. Dinner was shockingly good, good enough that the feminine pegasus had started licking her plate clean before she could stop herself.

Something that Martini couldn't blame her for in the slightest, after all... it was easy for him to make a Salsbury steak taste delectable when it wasn't almost a century and a half out of date. So, any meal he made from practically fresh ingredients must seem like ambrosia to a wastelander. The rest of the night passed swiftly as the pair settled in for the night, neither of them resting easily. For Rum Rush, the thought of what the pair would find at the former battleground left her mind ablur until sleep claimed her.

As for Martini, the nightmares never let him rest easily.

When morning came the pair were prepared.

Showered, well fed, in clothing that was not just clean, but warded with alchemical resistances thanks to the LADS unit that both pegasi had used for their laundry... and after a visit to the armory that left Rum Rush squealing loud enough for an actual noise to echo from the mute, well-armed and armored. The pair set out into the dim wasteland air, leaving the base sealed behind them.

Sporting an olive-colored flak jacket and two bandoliers of 37mm Grenade rounds over her Shadowbolts costume and a brand new five-shot TGL-37 Rotary Grenade Launcher, Rum Rush easily kept pace with the crimson stallion. The dark brown armored vest meshing in well with her dull green and gunmetal grey super-heavy battle saddle.

While Martini, poor, poor Martini once more cursed Wandering Sunrise for her choice in camouflage design. It was clear she must have learned it in some horridly out of date manual rather than in the field. Still, his reinforced combat armor was hardly made of cardboard.

Especially since Sunrise has extensively modified it.

In his hooves he carried his usual PPG-43 Plasma Rifle, a hoof blade on each leg, and his wingblades. Which should be more than enough to incapacitate any wastelander or experienced fighter with ease. Assuming they don't spot him first, that is.

After all, tinfoil-silver and white with a matte-grey belly really doesn't help anyone below the cloud-layer. Perhaps if he was bucking with the Enclave, it might do in a pinch... but the moment he had some free time, he was going to repaint his armor to something more respectable. Forgoing his goddess-forsaken helmet in favor of his preferred royal purple beret, the stallion powered through the air with a determined purpose in his wings, Rum Rush following alongside.

"At least we aren't flying through another storm this time." He chuckles, earning a jab in his armored shoulder from the mare as she shifted closer to him. A pointed look on her face... as the stallions smile fades with embarrassment. "...right, jinxed it. Buck." Rubbing his armored shoulder, the stallion lets his instincts guide him back along the same flight path the pair had taken amidst the storm.

Though unlike before, they flew at great height to get a bird's eye view of the ground... something that turned out to be a wise choice as a familiar set of silhouettes passed a few hundred meters below the pair. One exceedingly large framed avian and two more normal sized compatriots, gryphons... and uncomfortably familiar ones at that.

'Well, looks like the Caravan is still in the area.' The stallion laments, watching the patrol pass beneath them and continue on to the south.

Meeting Rum Rush's concerned gaze, the pair raise their altitude until they're all but skimming the cloud-layer. From such a height the sight of the lone trailer of the caravan and the small crowd of ponies and gryphons that make up its number, slowly making their way down a mostly intact highway below. A pity... they'll probably have to cross at the sole standing bridge across the Brooke Gorge without the strength of Scopolamina's magical might to lift the trailer. Assuming they can pay the brigands occupying it to cross.

Even from their considerable height, it was easy to tell that not a member of Sunrise's crew walked among the crowd. For Martini, that was both a blessing, and a curse. If he ran into them, it wouldn't end in a fight with the entire caravan aiming to gut him AND Sunrise's crew trying to turn him into paste... it would be an even fight. One way or another.

Of course, if luck was on their side this time. There wouldn't be a fight.

The Caravan soon faded into the landscape behind the pair as they grew closer to the site of the ambush. It might have once been a large roadstop, the sort of place a pony would stop to stretch their legs after a long motorcarriage ride or flight. Almost a little town even, a few dozen ruined houses situated around a motel. Though judging by the cracked sign standing beside the pile of debris covering the large lot beside the motel, there was once an arcane matrix-charging station for motorwagons and a clinic.

'A shame, even a degraded charging station would have been a welcome salvaging spot.'

Dipping his right wing in a slow turn to circle the small town, Martini picked out the signs of battle. The charred husks of combat robots from the mercenaries. The burnt out remains of a two-story structure across from the motel, where his former leader had detonated vast quantities of explosives.

The three graves he'd dug in front of the~

The stallion blinked, a rush of confusion flowing over him. He'd dug four graves and buried four bodies; two ex-raiders who'd turned on the caravaneers during the ambush. A single mare who'd died during the fighting, killed by those same raiders, and the unicorn sniper from Rum Rushes team... but even from their considerable altitude the red pegasus could tell that something had changed about the last grave in particular.

"Come on, lets get down there."

Folding his right wing in, the Shadowbolt seamlessly slipped into a steep dive and cut through the air as he approached the old motel. As the distance between ground and grunt dipped into the double-digit meters he flared his wings, the vast crimson-feathered limbs catching the air like drag chutes. A simple maneuver, one he must have done thousands of times both in and out of combat.

"Thirty..."

"Twenty..."

"Ten~"

Bracing his legs for landing Martini's wings flapped down once, the powerful limbs bringing his slowed decent to a controllable hover. With a quiet clip clop of booted hooves on gravel drive, the stallion landed in a trot. Coming to a stop just short of the broken roadway, he quickly found himself joined by the presence of Rum Rush as her slightly slower decent finally caught up.

The building was in just as poor a shape as it had been days earlier. Dilapidated brickwork, rotting wood paneling along the windows, even old boards that had seemingly been fashioned as makeshift protection and barricades. Those actually looked new, perhaps from the caravan?

Regardless, the pair moved towards the front of the building where the three distinct mounds of dirt laid... three graves, and a hole. A hole that should have held a corpse. Yet much to the confusion of the two, it did not.

A casual glance confirmed that the dirt that should have occupied the grave was also absent, in fact... the entire hole looked off. As if someone had taken a massive scoop and simply cut out a sphere in the center of it, impressive given it was just under six feet deep and about five feet across. Stranger still, the edges of the hole were smooth, with only the topmost layer of soil near the edge showing any odd deformations.

It almost seemed... familiar.

Scratching his head, Martini's amber eyes dipped to the dirt surrounding the hole. It was a mess of prints, hooves mostly... except for one. Carefully shifting his boots to the side, the pegasus eyed that particular print.

"I've got something here."

A large paw pad partially disturbed by the familiar hoof-shape of Nyota, and five distinct toes. Following the direction of that single print the stallion discovered a second more widely spaced print, then a third, his gaze rising until it laid upon the hardy forest of rough gorse and stubborn pines at the edge of the township. There was a break in the underbrush, a large break in fact.

It earned a groan from the stallion. "...oh you've got to be flocking with me..."

Given the tracks and the size of the break, it was probably a fairly big bear. Which was a problem considering the source of those pawprints seemed to indicate it came from the hole in the ground. A quick double check confirmed the absence of any tracks leading to the sizable hole, meaning it didn't walk over and dig up the grave. Even if it had, the hole was too perfectly rounded, so it must have crawled out of this hole, and took off in a panic.

'So how the hell did a bear body-swap with a corpse?' He wondered, looking down at the print in contemplation.

But as the seconds ticked by, his gaze slowly drifted lower. From the paw-print below him to the armor coating his chest. Deep in his chest a flicker of hope grew alight, because he knew of one way for a bear to accomplish what he assumed this one had.

After all, it was the same reason he was alive.

Raising his cyberlimb to his armored chest, Martini let his steel hoof rest against the sturdy plate of his combat armor. Knowing that deep within his chest stood the very piece of tech that could accomplish such a thing.

A Recombulator.

...or just 'A Box' if you preferred Sunrise's description.

A device of unknown power and capability, holding both his soul and that of a gryphon that Sunrise had taken a fancy too... a Regulator at that. A one-eye'd sharpshooter by the name of Alguacil, or 'The long eye of the Law' as was known. A gryphon who had died violently fighting against the Enclave, at that.

His death had led to the Recombulator activating... which had left Martini in the unenviable spot of waking up in the middle of a funeral of sorts. Even through the haze of that day, he still remembered the smoothness of the area around him when he'd awoken. It was a crying shame that the first face he found was the lime green and peppermint mane of 'The Angel with a Shotgun'.

Still, if this was the result of a recombulator activating. Then that means that the mare within could be brought back out potentially, but first things first.

Turning his gaze on the mildly amused form of Rum Rush, the stallion's words quickly wiped any sense of laughter from her muzzle. In its place he found a brief moment of fear, then a burning resolve, and all it took was eleven words.

"I don't think your friend is as dead as I thought..."

Narrowing her eyes at the stallion the mare held out her hoof, motioning for him to continue.

"...its hard to explain. But based on the tracks I'm seeing here there was a bear that crawled its way out of her grave, and I've seen an implant that takes one or several creature's souls an’ places them in a gem of sorts. When they die it uses local materials to transmute into a replacement body and revives them." He motions to the unnaturally smooth hole. "The results of it look very similar to this. If I'm right, your friend had one of these implants... and it must have sucked up a bear at some point. Which would explain the size of this perfectly rounded hole. Her implant was probably set to randomly select who or what came out from an internal list of souls."

Eyebrows raised and eyes glaring with suspicion, the mare frowns. But as she turned her gaze onto the tracks the stallion had pointed out, he could easily make out the cogs turning in her head as she ran the scene through her own mind.

After a minute of thought, Rum Rush reluctantly nodded her head. Either unable to think of another reason for this unusual situation, or unwilling. From the glimmer of hope in her hazel eyes, it was likely the latter of the two.

...Martini could understand that.

"We should follow its track, if we find the bear... we find your marefriend."

The sputtered croak from the mare certainly meant that the stallion's words had struck Rum Rush, he could see the glare she tried to level at him... only for it to fade to a simple nod of agreement. Hefting her rotary grenade launcher, the crimson mare adjusted her flight goggles. Sliding them down over her expressive eyes.

With a toothy grin, the Shadowbolt primed the charge switch on his plasma rifle. The amber and bronze colored magical energy weapon thrumming with power as harsh green glow filled the visible pipework's of the machine. Holding it aloft in his cyberhoof, the stallion shouldered the weapon.

"Alright, let's hope it didn't get very far."

The forest was quiet.

For a soldier like Martini the quiet was both a welcomingly unsettling and familiar... it meant that the creatures that dwelt within knew they were in the presence of a predator. Whether that was himself, Rum Rush, or something else? That was still to be determined. But for Rum Rush the silence left her uneasy.

Following in the wake of the stallion, the feminine pegasus gently tongued the trigger-bit of the grenade launcher between her teeth. Ears pricked for any sound beyond the gentle rhythm and subtle crunch of the pairs hoofsteps on the forest floor. Beyond the wind rustling the pines and the occasional creak of wood in oppressive day-time darkness, nothing seemed to be stirring. Not a bird in its nest or a rodent in the mess of leaves...

Slowly swiveling her grenade launcher as she scanned the amber-tinted undergrowth through her goggles, the pegasus once again felt a curious sense of relief as her gaze briefly trailed over the unusual stallion ahead of her. Twice she'd given him ample reason to kill her, twice he'd completely and utterly dismantled her attempts with ease... and yet both times he had spared her life.

The first time she'd struck at him without warning, he had his back to her and she had the advantage! Only for him to dodge her blow with a simple shift of his head and taken her to the ground with two simple moves. Moves that in hindsight, could have simultaneously snapped her lower spine and neck had he chosen too. Instead, he'd questioned her... he'd given her the chance to explain her actions, he'd opened himself up to another strike... and the result had been the exact same.

He was merciful, generous even... had she done that to any other wastelander, there was no doubt in her mind that she would be dead or much, much worse.

But he was also oddly fragile in certain ways, she'd all but forced him into a position where he had to choose between a bad situation and a worse situation... and the thing that convinced him to side with her was a Pinkie Promise that she would not to harm the caravaneers, or his zonyfriend. A promise she had been willing to uphold, and one she still felt guilty about. The zony getting shot wasn't supposed to happen, in fact the ambush itself wasn't supposed to go down the way it had in the slightest! From the random storm closing in, to the mistakes in execution. Everything just seemed to go lopsided from the start.

Pink Whiskey and Peppermint were supposed to focus their fire on Wandering Sunrise, but something clearly went wrong in their planning. Since only one of them actually shot the mare with their Anti-Machine Rifle, and despite being shot in the head with a Power Armor killing round she just got back up! Then the two trailer drivers decided to go berserk and kill one of the caravaneers... damned Raiders, the pair of them. Even her quick strike to drop a half-dozen mines and a bag of flower to keep the 'Angel with a Shotgun's zebra boy-toy from sneaking around missed.

Then Tierce, the wannabe ninja of her little group of Hunters, decided to get close so he could take pot shots at the little green devil's Zebra with his Junk-Jet launcher. All while the hoof-ful of combat robots they had started targeting not just Sunrise and her crew, but the caravaneers too. Which brought them into the fight on top of everything else.

It was bad, but not unsalvageable. Even when the gryphons that had been following along as guards for the rest of the caravan decided to pick her out as a target. She underestimated them, and nearly paid the price for that mistake... then someone shot the zony, and all Tartarus broke loose. She'd only caught a glimpse of it, but Martini quickly and decisively went from a purely defensive, non-combat stance to a driven combatant. Sure, he kept it non-lethal, but he dropped and tied up their best stealth and melee specialist without breaking a sweat.

Then he came for her, right as the storm started to break. Every maneuver she made, every juke, jink, and dive she used to get away from him proved woefully insufficient in her weakened state. He was always right behind her... then he made her an offer she couldn't refuse. He asked her to disengage, that the fight was lost. That throwing her life away for some caps against impossible odds wasn't worth it.

'...and yeah, he might've been right. But a hundred-thousand caps per target, thats the kindof money someone's willing to die for.' But at the time, his words had struck a chord. So, with the crackle of magically active lightning closing in around them, she'd agreed. He escorted her through the storm to an old trailer park where they took shelter with an unusual stallion in the dilapidated admin office of the place.

Which was where Martini had learned something important about her, something that endeared him just a bit. All because he refused to let her wounds go untreated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days earlier
Happy Trails Residential Park, Administration Building
Rum Rush, Merchants of Death

"We're almost there, the trailers are just a little further east of here."

For all her pride Rum Rush couldn't help but let a whimper of relief slip from her lips as a flash of mundane lightning lit up the landscape around the pair. Highlighting the ragged tears running along the left side of her barrel, and the dark glisten of blood coating both her suit and battered left wing. Supporting her in his full set of bloodstained combat armor, Martini kept his visor-obscured gaze on the distant shadow of structures ahead of them. His right wing helping shield the feminine pegasus from the thundering rain with his thick, armored, leather cloak.

It was agonizing, each and every step. Fragments of flak had riddled her side during a close pass during the ambush, and the gryphons had gotten far too close when she led them into the clouds above. Taking advantage of her poor skill in close combat with those claws of theirs and ballistic weapons, the fact she was still walking was a miracle.

Pushing through the sheets of harsh rain and wind the pair passed through a shattered wooden gate, reduced to little more than a hole in ragged brick wall after decades of neglect. The ruined forms of personal trailers and rusted out motorwagons stretched on beyond in oddly orderly lines, many of them little more than frames of scrap and tin. Gritting her teeth as she stumbled, Rum found the expected pain of a fall absent as Martini settled against her more directly. She even felt his right foreleg rise up beneath her barrel, supporting her weight with his armored shoulder.

"...there, the admin building~" The roar of thunder nearly drowned out the stallion's words as he all but carried her wounded form forward, the distinct form of an actual building appearing ahead in another flash of light. Two stories, with functional internal lights and a fireplace in use going by the smoke rising from the buildings chimney as the two grew closer. "Looks like someones living here... Probably not Raiders, but be ready if they turn out to be hostile."

'Right... in this state, yeah i'll get ready to bleed on them.'

Unaware of his companion's internal displeasure, Martini approached the door and angled his left side to it. Something that Rum Rush recognized as an attempt to shield her should the pony to open that door introduces themselves with a shotgun. Raising his free left wing the stallion knocks on the door firmly, calling out. "Is anyone here?" Almost immediately there was the clatter of something from inside, followed by a 'Hihihihi' from the other side of the door as whomever called this place home rushed to the door.

As it opened the ruby red pegasus could only cringe as a strong scent wafted out of the building, curtesy of the stallion who opened the door. Wild eyed and wily, the earth pony's hoof had already extended out before either the Shadowbolt or bounty hunter could react, curling around the soldier's wing in a strong grip. Shaking it strongly. "Well Hi-hiddly-doo, what brings ya to these parts? Come in, in in.. it's not right outside in these conditions~" The earth ponies distinctly happy appleoosan twang and yellowed teeth yapped. "~Yer gonna catch Windego fever." Stepping aside, the stallion admitted the two without hesitation.

Something that left Rum Rush extremely wary, and from the way Martini shifted his weight subtly to free up his left hoof and its hidden blade. Even he was somewhat put off by this unusual earth pony's attitude. "Eh bit of trouble on the road. My friend here took a few shots during an ambush. We were looking for somewhere to weather the storm while I patched her up." As she watched him take a glance around the room, Rum wanted to argue, but given the amount of pain she was in... she'd relent to it. As long as that Earth Pony wasn't involved.

As if her thoughts had been overheard, the wild-eyed stallions gaze fell on her. An uncomfortably wide smile growing on his muzzle. "I see, I see. A young couple like you out in this weather. Bad luck. I'll fix ya up right, hihihi. Ya hungry? Thirsty?" The question sent the hairs on the back of her neck shooting. She'd been drugged enough in the past to avoid food from questionable creatures, and this guy had enough red flags already.

Especially since he was still shaking Martini's wing... "Not exactly a couple but.. Yeah, out in a bad bit of weather. Honestly though, I ate and drank about an hour ago.. Thanks for offering though." He replied smoothly, for a moment the earth pony's smile seems to falter, flicker even. But as brief as it was there, it was gone. "Ah well, please have a seat! I'll be back in a few." Closing the door behind the pair, the stallion trots off. Leaving them alone in a living room of sorts.

The old administrative building had been converted into a home, though it was clearly a little bit homey to begin with. The fireplace in the room burned with freshly chopped wood, and Rum could see the old break room had been the earth pony had vanished into was turned into a kitchen. One with the stallions same strange smell coming from it, strongly. There were a set of stairs that lead to a second floor, and most likely a door to the bathroom beneath the staircase. There was also a nice couch and a couple of chairs spread around the fireplace... all of them curiously unused.

Carrying her over to the couch, the crimson stallion removed his cloak and laid it down over the cushions. Clearly intent on laying her down on it.

'Oh buck no, i'm not letting him treat me with that... freak, watching!' Pulling away from the stallion proved to be a poor idea as pain lashed up from her wounded side like a new set of claws raking her skin. But it got the stallions attention as his amber eyes fell on her goggled gaze. Drawing a piece of chalk from her bandolier, she carefully dried off the little chalkboard secured to her ammo-rigging and began writing. Taking great care not to move very much, or risk causing herself further pain.

She nearly finished when his voice brought her writing to a pause. "..I know your not going to like it, but we're going to need to get that uniform off you so I can clean and bandage the wounds.. and possibly clean the suit." Casting a glare at the Shadowbolt, she rapidly scratched out corrections to her writing. Simply crossing out a few words and underlining it to get her point across.

Not here, you can treat the wing but leave the suit on. I don't trust him.

Reading it, Martini frowned. "It's either that, or you keep wearing it and trap all that blood inside the suits lining... I can smell it from here, so any predator out there can and will smell it too." His words were sensible but damn this stallion! Wiping off the chalk on her wet sleeve, she wrote a new line.

Well I won't take it off unless I know he can't see me.

Glaring up at the armored pegasus, she nearly tried to scream as he set her down on the cloak. The pain was almost unbearable! But she still managed to hear his whisper as the stallion began to carefully pick through her wing with his cyberlimb, a healing potion-soaked bandage held in his free hoof. "I'll figure something out."

...

It took a few minutes of careful preening and painful digging before Martini bound her wing in the bandage, but by that point the searing pain had dulled to a stabbing ache. One only made worse by the earth ponies returns, his smile unchanged as the soldier buttered him up with polite words and humble thanks. Then he asked the earth pony about a room for the night. "Aw yeah, there's space upstairs. It was a couple of offices but they got made into... crashpads, I think is the term. But you can stay there. Coin isn't needed, but I might take it out in trade if you insist."

His yellowed teeth glinted in the firelight as they took on a crooked grin, his gaze running over her bloodied form appraisingly. Without the rain to obscure him and the firelight at his back, the pony seemed far more imposing. Very muscular in a way that was hidden well by the coveralls he wore. Even without any visible armor, something told Rum Rush that fighting him in her current state would be a long-shot... It made her glad that she'd listened to the Shadowbolt standing between them.

"I'll keep that in mind." Said stallion simply gave the unusual pony a thankful nod as he urged her back to her hooves, his left wing collecting the cloak he'd laid out as he guided her towards the stairs. Directed to a room off the main landing by the earth ponies voice. It was clearly an office of sorts, but it'd been made cozy enough. The mostly boarded window surprisingly helped with the smell. Though the muffled roar of the storm was certainly present, along with sporadic cracks of thunder. The bed was a double and there was even a busted home crystal vision set off in the corner. Next to it was a desk with all sorts of junk piled on, under, and inside.

Looking over the room, she noticed a small smile slip onto Martini's face for a moment, as he helped her over to the bed, laying out his cloak again as he settled her down atop it. Without a word he then trotted back to the door, closed it, and placed his saddlebags in front of it with a hefty thump. Followed by his heavily modified combat helmet.

“Private enough for your liking?”

Nodding her head, Rum Rush struggled with indecision. She needed to take off her jumpsuit so Martini could help heal her... but how would he react to, well. Her? A crack of thunder echoed as she finally came to a decision and gripped the zipper of the jumpsuit in her teeth. He hadn't killed her yet, he hadn't given her any reason to suspect he would despite everything she'd done to him. So this... this probably wouldn't be the thing that set him off.

'Hopefully...'

As the jumpsuit slid down her side Rush silently groaned, blood and metallic fragments visibly poking through her flesh. Carefully she maneuvered her wing free of the fabric, and allowed the suit to continue its way down her shapely flanks. Then it past her legs to reveal a distinctly non-marish sight between her hind legs to the shadowbolt, dropping the bloodied suit to the floor beside the bed, her unbandaged wing flaring out to hide her masculine nature as much as she could. While her lips cradle the chalk between them as she scratches out a few words. Unwilling to meet the pegasi's gaze.

I prefer when people see me as a mare, it makes me feel good. Don't judge me.

Martini though didn’t seem all that bothered by the stallion's choice of apparel. “Don’t worry, the only time I’ll give anypony grief for that is if they’re a walking disaste-” His statement is cut by a low hiss as he started removing his armor, his left hind-leg twitching painfully. Eyes widening, the revealed stallion tensed in anticipation... only to relax as the source of the shadowbolts hiss came into view. A single, hoof-long spike of jagged metal embedded into his left thigh.

'...he was helping carry me, with that jammed into his leg!?'

Despite the momentary cry of pain, the crimson pegasus didn't seem too bothered by it. In fact he seemed more interested in the injuries of the stallion laying before him. Crossing the room to the bed, he removed a small syringe from an armored pouch at his barrel. "Alright..." Before she could intersect, he pricked her with the needle and pressed the plunger. The familiar dulling sensation of Med-X quickly spreading across Rum Rush. Looking up at him, she wanted to insult him for not warning her... but the relief the drug brought, it was too much.

Staring up at the stallion as he got to work treating her, Rum let her eyes drift shut. Exhausted mind already starteing to drift off as the adrenaline of battle left her at the mercy of her own biology. She didn't even know if she'd wake up again, but she was certain that if anything was going to harm her. It probably wouldn't be him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'But in the end, I woke up... and he looked as grim as a prisoner under the noose.'

...and for good reason. That morning he'd told her that the zony, Chifundo. Had found them during the night using some sort of shamanistic ghost-walking ability he had. Sunrise and her crew knew knew Markerlight had betrayed them, not because the zony had deduced it or assumed anything. But because Martini had come clean and told him everything, he even wanted to go back and try to talk down Sunrise. She'd told him he was crazy to try, but he was insistent.

He was willing to put his life on the line for the rest of her team. Despite everything, so she followed him. Watching and listening to his live radio from a safe distance up in the stormy skies as he was accused by his old group. How he pleaded and tried, honestly tried to negotiate for them to simply release the rest of her team without any of their gear.

'The Blood Price has already been paid, there doesn't need to be anymore shed today.'

He knew how to speak to the hearts of others, thats for certain. But so did Sunrise. She had rebuffed his explanations with perhaps the stupidest line of thinking Rum had ever heard... the 'Angel with a Shotgun' claimed that Martini could have broken the Pinkie Promise he'd made without any risk to himself. Something even a bounty hunter like herself wouldn't do, after all. She'd heard the stories of Pinkie Promises being broken, they always cost the breaker dearly.

Then she turned his speech into a way to work the caravaneers into a blood frenzy, and gave them the final call on how to deal with her team. While Martini was taken out front and forced to bury the two dead raiders, and the mare they'd killed during the ambush under the harsh watch of that green bitches stripe.

The Starkatarii didn't hold back in criticizing the pegasi's actions. In fact, he directly blamed the Shadowbolt for each misdeed that occurred during the ambush. Even when Martini tried to throw some of those statements back at the zebra, by pointing out how much of his own personal medical supply he'd used to help stabilize the wounded... well. Nyota struck him for talking back, even when he'd finished burying the bodies that damned stripe couldn't help but force the pegasus to apologize to the corpses.

Not just the mare who'd died. But the two Raiders as well, something that Martini took exception to... the mare he clearly felt sorrow for. But the Raiders? He kicked a little more dirt onto their grave, as is only right. So, the Zebra struck him again and told him to start on another grave.

...

"Hold~"

Rum Rush's mind snapped back to the present at the crimson stallions whisper, his right wing raised with all of its feathers balled up like a gryphons claw. Immediately she stopped on the spot, leveling her grenade launcher at the underbrush ahead. Distracted by the memory, she hadn't noticed the crunch of bone and the tearing meat break the silence.

Slowly the pair of pegasi crept forward through the underbrush, eventually emerging on the edge of a forest clearing. At its center stood a towering beast of dark fur and rippling muscle, nothing like the usual bears of the wasteland in the slightest. Of that she was certain. Beneath the beast laid the corpse of a half-eaten pack brahmin. The area was littered with bones and bits of previous kills, as if the beast of a bear was marking this place as its clearing. Other than that was a large amount of accumulated junk, this was probably the cheap alternative the denizens of the roadstop used before the war ended. Dumping their trash in the forest. Everything from trash barrels to a few tons of degraded cinder-blocks lay scattered across the area. Even an old wagon was visible, more wood rot than wagon as it may be.

Turning her gaze on Martini, the crossdressing pegasus shifted her rotary grenade launcher questioningly. Something that he responded to with a simple nod of his head as he took aim with his plasma rifle. "Don't worry, they built those implants as tough as Pipbuck's. Don't hold back, unless you want that thing to run off with your girl." The quiet reply was more than enough for Rum as she clicked off the safety on her launcher. The noise earning a curious snort from the bear as it lifted its head from the feast.

"Three..."

The pair of pegasi sighted in their weapons on the confused bear as it rose onto its tree truck-sized hind legs, straightening up to scan the clearing like a monolithic statue of hunger.

"Two..."

Rum ran her tongue across the trigger-bit eagerly, doing her best not to fire off her grenades early as she adjusted the sights. They'd only get one shot here.

"One... Fire!"

...and with twin clicks of triggers. The Forest roared with the cry of plasma, the blast of explosives, and the rage of a Legendary beast.

---------------The Ambush Point----------------

---------------The Forest Clearing---------------

--------------------The Problem-------------------