Overture - A Fallout: Equestria Story

Chapter Four: Work Experience

"Get yourself together or fall apart."

"It's pretty simple, point where you want to shoot and pull the trigger with your tongue. Line the sights up on the top at what you're trying to hit, the one on the end of the barrel should be in the middle of the two closer to you. The recoil is going to mess up your aim for the next shot, it's going to want to pull your head back and sideways, so try to counter it. You've got six chances to hit something before you need to reload. And on that subject-"

The Griffon pushed the last bullet into the gun, flipping it closed and presenting it to me in one of his giant claws.

"Let's see what you can do."

Gabek Goldwing. Make Do's adoptive dad. He was somehow even more imposing the second time around, and that's quite an achievement for someone who strangled me on our first meeting. He was some sort of paramilitary big shot from what I'd gathered, and he absolutely wore that wholeheartedly. Despite what Make Do had insisted otherwise, he was stern and short of temperament, deadly serious. The only time I'd seen him smile since he'd arrived was when he was around Make Do, as soon as he saw me he would become stony.

Over dinner a few days ago I'd expressed an interest in going outside. I was going to have to face it sooner or later, and frankly I was getting sick of the stale air in that room, plus Mr. Goldwing had been home for a few days at that point, and everytime I'd been in the same room as him I'd felt uneasy and unwelcome, I'd hoped that it would mean getting some time away from him. Such was not the case. Make Do had immediately set about pestering her dad to help adjust me to the wasteland. He had (very begrudgingly) agreed, which is how we ended up in this scenario. I don't think either of us were best pleased about it, especially not him when he'd learned I'd never actually fired a gun before. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit excited, though. I had always wanted to try shooting a gun. Just not in this kind of scenario.

Make Do herself had split off to go do something or other that apparently I wouldn't very best prepared for until I could actually use a gun. Something about dogs and chickens? If that was the case I wasn't sure I wanted to get involved anyway, but here we are. She had tried to cram in some kind of post-apocalyptic field guide before she left, abridged as it may have been. At least I knew what a Mutfruit was now, I guess. Mr. Goldwing had walked us back to the tunnel me and Make Do had walked through the other day. Thankfully though we stopped short of venturing all the way through, I still don't think I was quite ready to see the city again.

I took the pistol in my hooves. It was very similar to the one I found in the lab, if much cleaner. A revolver, I was told. I gave it a look over and then got it sat comfortably in my mouth. Or as comfortably as I could get it. Turns out holding a big lump of metal with your teeth is not fantastic!

"Don't point at anything you don't want to kill. Try and hit that barrel over there, you've got six tries. And remember what I said about recoil." He shone a torch down into the tunnel, illuminating an old metal barrel in the distance. My target, apparently.

I squinted down the sights, tounge poised around the trigger. I was pretty certain I had it all lined up. I gently pulled back on the-

BLAM!

Sweet Cadenza that was loud! My ears pinned back, but they were already ringing. I knew guns were loud, but this one was so much smaller than the monster that Make Do had in the lab, how was it still so deafening‽ The sound reverberated off the tunnel walls, and I was glad we were stood right by the mouth or I'd imagine it'd be much worse. The recoil wasn't actually as bad as I was expecting, but still came as something of a surprise.

"Hmf, not bad, but you only grazed it the rim. Try again."

I missed? I thought I had it all right. I got myself ready to fire again, lowring my head a little this time and keeping my ears folded preemptively. This had to be be a direct hit, I was sure.

BLAM!

"You got it that time. Carry on." The griffon spoke. I was feeling a bit more confident now, it wasn't actually as bad as I had been expecting. I could even see the bullet hole I'd made on the surface of the target barrel.

I repeated my motions, firing off each shot quicker than the last as I adjusted and got used to the weapon. The whole thing ended with a click, I'd used up all my bullets. I took the gun out of my mouth and turned to Mr. Goldwing, who was inspecting the barrel.

"Well, color me impressed, you managed to get your shots closer together than most rookies. You've got a good eye, Silver, you might be a natural." He said, with the slightest hint of a grin creeping onto his beak. I took the praise, but I still wasn't really sure if this was something I should be proud of being good at.

"That said, a barrel is a barrel, hitting something coming at you is a whole different can of worms. That, and being a crack shot means nothing if you're out of ammo." He passed me a box of bullets, the cardboard yellowed and deformed, print half rubbed off. "It can be tricky to reload with hooves. Pull back the little release tab there, the cylinder will open up."

I took the gun in my hooves and did as he said, and the spinny- cylinder, I guess, fell open.

"Now tip it back and tap the rod sticking out, that'll dislodge the old casings."

I pushed down on the rod, and the empty bullet casings fell to the ground with a clatter. I went to pick them up again, but was met with a quizzical look from Mr. Goldwing, so I stopped. It felt weird to just leave them though. Was it littering? I guess no one out here would really care, everything was in a pretty bad state anyway, I doubt these loose casings would be anypony's biggest concern.

"Now you just replace the bullets. Revolvers aren't the quickest thing to reload without a speed loader, if you manage to find one out there, but they're sturdy and reliable. Ammo is easy to find and they're a breeze to maintain. You're gonna see a lot of them out there." He explained as I fumbled around with the bullets, trying to slot them in to the cylinder. He was right, it was tricky. I did manage to get them all in, but it was a pretty clumsy experience. Bullets are very hard to grasp with hooves! I bet unicorns have a much easier time of this, and griffons. Mr. Goldwing made it look effortless with his talons.

Stupid catbirds and their weird claw-digit-things.

"Close the cylinder again and you're good to go." He finished.

It closed with a satisfying click. I couldn't resist the urge to spin the cylinder, I just had to give it a go. It whirred just like I hoped it would, I giggled a little bit. Special Agent Sterling, Police Squad! I mimed shooting down the tunnel. Mr. Goldwing didn't really see the fun in it though.

"If you're done, I'd like to carry on with this so I can get back to enjoying my time off." He said flatly. Spoilsport.

"Shrry." I just about managed to vocalise around the bit.

"And there's your second issue." He continued. "I'd suggest finding a battle saddle or a holster if you want to talk and not be totally defenceless. A lot of folk prefer to settle things without words, though. Take from that what you will."

That was a depressing thing to learn. When did the world get so cutthroat?

"That's pretty much the basics. You go set up some more targets so you can..." He trailed off as a light buzzing echoed down the tunnel, coming from up around the bend. Listing around the corner was a disgustingly large bug. Like, hideous. It was slimy and hairy, bulbous and swollen, far bigger than was reasonable, and in every sense of the word, gross. It was also probably about the size of my head, which made everything ten times worse. I grimaced as it buzzed in the air towards us lazily, either having not noticed us yet or not caring about our presence. Hopefully both.

"Hmph, I thought we cleared all those things out. Okay, new plan." Mr. Goldwing announced, slinging his rifle off his back. "You are going to take care of that before it becomes a problem for us." He pointed to the bug, nodding between me and it.

"Yhu hon hee-" I rolled my eyes and removed the gun from mouth. "You want me to... shoot it?"

"Well I'm sure as shit not asking you to make friends with it." He grunted, looking at me like I was stupid. "Yes, obviously, shoot it, kill it."

I looked at the thing as it dumbly struggled through the air. It was almost pathetic, I think I'd sort of feel sorry for it it wasn't so repulsive. It still seemed blissfully unaware that I standing her contemplating ending it's existence.

Could I kill it? It was just a bug, but I never liked killing bugs anyway, even when they weren't quite as... interesting. I didn't want to get on Mr. Goldwing's bad side, but was that really a good enough reason to kill a living creature? Granted I'd probably be doing it a mercy if it's appearance alone was anything to go by, it certainly didn't appear to be thriving, but I didn't think that was my call to make.

"Today, perhaps?" The griffon sighed, rapping his talons on the ground and looking through me.

Frowning, I pointed the gun at the creature, my head following it's bobbing movements. This felt wrong, but I told myself that it was only a bug. It looked like a warped parody of a parasprite, which were destructive enough as it was. Who knows what this thing would be capable of? If Mr. Goldwing wanted me to kill it, surely there was good reason. It would be no bad thing to end this creature's life. Right?

It still felt like a bad thing.

BLAM!

I felt the force of the recoil twist my head around, fighting against it. I had missed completely. The sound of the shot though had alerted the bug to our presence, and it was suddenly making a beeline towards us. No pun intended.

I panicked as it gurgled and hissed, buzzing closer and retaliating by launching something gooey back towards us, splatting on the ground between me and Mr. Goldwing. I yelped and squeezed my eyes closed, pulling on the trigger again.

BLAM!
BLAM!

I cracked an eye open when the buzzing stopped. A burst of green blood and chitin surrounded the bug as it writhed on the floor, twitching. My heart sank as I watched the last jolts of life leave it's body, writhing and flailing. I'd done that.

"You're going to have a rough time out here if you're hesitating that much over a bug." Mr. Goldwing scoffed. "One thing you need to drill into your head is this is survival of the fittest. This is life or death, got it. The winner is the one who acts first. Next time, it might not be just a bloatsprite. Don't start on the backpaw."

I nodded sheepishly. I disagreed with everything he'd just said on a fundamental level. It may have just been a bug, but it was still a living creature that had died by my hoof. It certainly didn't seem like a threat until I'd attacked it, only retaliating because it was provoked. To live on the edge, to be ready to kill anything at any time was an inequine way to live. I felt terrible as it was.

"Two." He continued, grabbing the gun and tearing it from my mouth. "Don't you EVER shoot without looking again." His frown bored into me, angrily staring into my soul. My teeth hurt from the sudden force but I didn't say anything. "What did I tell you not to point this at not even five minutes ago?"

"...not to point it at anything I don't want to kill."

"Don't point it at anything you don't want to kill! How do you know if you want something dead if you can't even fucking see? What if someone else had wandered down range? Or I'd stepped out?" He actually clipped me around the ear, which honestly left me a little bit shocked. "You are a fucking adult, act like it. If I ever see you shoot with your eyes closed again I'll treat you as a threat, understand?"

I gulped, looking back at him wide eyed, the beginnings of tears starting to form. He was scary, I'd never been looked at with such and ice-cold stare, such a piercing, threatening look. I couldn't believe he actually hit me! I had no doubt what him treating me as a threat would entail for me. "Y-yes."

"What? Louder!"

"Y-yes!" I yelped, borderline sniffling. He huffed and rolled his eyes.

"God, you're like little filly." He shook his head and gave me back the gun. "I don't know where you came from, but you need to toughen up. Quick. Get real, or you won't last long."

I held the pistol in my trembling hooves, staring at it so that I didn't have to look at him.

"Okay then, that can on top of those sandbags back there, that's your next target."

I whipped my head up at that. "W-w-we're still going?"

"Yes we're still going." He grunted. "My daughter, for whatever reason, seems intent on you accompanying her around, and I will not have her in the presence of a pony who's more likely to shoot her by accident than to hit her actual target. You're practising until I don't think you're a danger. So get practicing."

I had spent the better part of the day in that tunnel shooting. My ears were ruined, all sound was muffled and pillowy. If guns were as prevalent as Mr. Goldwing made it sound like they were then it was a wonder that everypony wasn't stone deaf. Similarly, my teeth were aching and my neck was none to happy either. I was glad to be done.

That time had been a constant barrage of posture corrections and aim adjustments and increasingly difficult commands from an increasingly detached Griffon. As they day went on he was less and less engaged, which was fine by me to be honest. We hadn't said much of anything to each other, it was mostly just him rattling off targets or telling me what I was doing wrong.

We'd walked back in silence. Thankfully I hadn't been asked to shoot anything else that was alive. At the end of it all he told me to keep the gun, said I'd need it more than him. I didn't have any pockets or anything, seeing as this pistol was now literally the only thing I owned, so I'd carried it all the way back in my mouth, keeping my tounge off the trigger as per his instructions. I was hoping to find myself some kind of jacket soon, pocket practicality aside it was chilly out here and getting caught in the rain was a very real problem. I don't think I'd seen a blue sky once since I got here.

The problem was that presumably I was going to need money to buy a jacket, and I guess bullets now too, unless I wanted to go scrounging around, digging through ruins for scraps. Was that what Make Do did for money? What was salvage and what was trash? Or thinking about it, where is the line between salvaging and grave robbing? These would be dead pony's things, after all. Grim.

Either way, this had implications for me. I was going to have to find out what ponies even did for money now, I had my doubts that trinkets and jewellery were still a viable source of income given the state of the world. I didn't really have any other transferable skills. I was an Earth pony, I could farm at a push, I guess, but I'd spent so much time and energy making sure I didn't have to be a farmer...

What did ponies even eat now anyway? Lungworm aside, I'd seen fresh carrots and apples in the fridge here but they was supplanted with stuff I straight up didn't recognise and old boxes of pre-apocalypse food. Thank Celestia for preservatives. I don't know if it was more impressive or worrying that ponies were still eating this stuff. Make Do had tried giving me a crash course in foragable food, but I think it was too much at once to all stick. Except Mutfurit, but only because the name was so funny.

I had been left to ponder in my room. Was it presumptuous to call it 'my' room? Mr. Goldwing had slung himself up in a hammock as soon as we got back, and I wasn't particularly eager to spend more of my time with him. I could hear him snoring from here, which was admittedly very dad-like. Dad-core. Make Do was still out on an errand, I wasn't too sure when she'd be back. She'd tuned the radio to a different station before she'd left, one with apparent survival tips, that was currently humming away in the background. I was sort of half paying attention to it as I flipped through a crusty old magazine and thought about the day. The DJ was saying something about landmines. I didn't even have it in me to be shocked that landmines were something ponies had to worry about on a regular basis now, I had been worn down and my eyes opened by force.

How did ponies live like this? How am I supposed to live like this? All this time since the lab and I still had absolutley no idea how things worked anymore. I idly turned a page, paper crumbling in my hooves. I knew how to shoot a gun now, I guess. The one nice thing Mr. Goldwing had said to me was that my aim was pretty decent for a beginner, so at least I had that going for me.

It had been decided that if I was going to help Dandelion, then I should learn how to take care of myself, which did make sense to be fair. As bad as thing may have been out here, it wasn't fair to leave her petrified, and knowing how hard of a time I was having getting used to all this I'd be much more helpful if I knew a little bit about living in the wasteland. Make Do may have kindly kept all the spell matrix data stuff on her PipBuck for me, but I still needed to find somepony who could understand it all. I couldn't, and despite being a Unicorn, Make Do had said she couldn't make much of it herself. Once I could handle myself a little bit I could start searching. I'd been told that most ponies in town were pretty friendly, but that wouldn't be the case for everypony out there, and it was better to be safe than sorry. That was very intimidating. And obviously the new fauna goes without mentioning. But having a goal was nice, it was a good distraction if nothing else. Something to work towards.

I flipped the page again. I wasn't really too interested in the magazine, but I didn't have much else to do. There was a stack of old and kinda moldy old magazines on a shelf by the kitchen. I had liberates a few from the top to pass the time, it made me feel like a I was in the waiting room for the dentist.

It suddenly crossed my mind that I'd not brushed my teeth since this whole mess began. That must have been over a week by now? I cautiously checked my breath. It was not good.

I made a mental note to find a toothbrush as soon as possible.

I was half-heartedly scanning an ancient edition of Gemfinder's Monthly. It had certainly seen better days, but, it was at least legible. I didn't really have any idea what made Make Do want to keep these cruddy old magazines anyway. The content was very dry, but I imagine I'd have found the issue of 'Terminal Topical' that it shared shelf space with a lot less engaging.

I sighed, re-reading the same paragraph over and over again, not taking anything in. I didn't work much with gemstones, and when I did it was never in any magical or functional capacity, just as pretty trinkets. Most of this kind of content was wasted on me. I knew what a faceted stone looked like, but a 'facet number arcane manifold' might as well have been Prench to me.

My ears swiveled as the front door rattled open, creaking and rattling, ultimately slamming back closed. "'Mmm backh!" Came Make Do's chipper, muffled voice. I pushed myself up and trotted out to meet her. The grunting bouncing through the building told me that Mr. Goldwing was up too. Make Do was in the doorway, closing a battered looking umbrella that I'm very sure she didn't have when we left, carrying a basket in her mouth. She was also now sporting a rather large bandage on her right hind leg, and it was clear that she was limping a bit as she walked to the table. Splats of burgundy blood stains seeped through the gauze, not enough to be life threatening or anything, but still concerning.

"Are you okay? What happened?" My ears fell flat against my head as I watched her hobble over to the table, placing the basket down. I knee she could take care of herself, and she was clearly well enough to be up and about, but I was still a little worried.

"I'm fine, pack of dogs just got the jump on me is all." She assured me, smiling. I noticed now that she was sparsely splattered with blood all over, and was dirtied with mud and sawdust. "We got the fence up though, and they didn't get to any of the chickens. Ms. Fowl patched me up, even gave me that umbrella for the trouble, she's so sweet."

"Sure you're okay, Mender?" Rumbled Mr. Goldwing right behind me. I almost jumped out of my coat, I hadn't heard him at all. "Let me take a look at it, I'll go get some disinfectant and fresh bandages." He slid past to get a better look at her leg. I wasn't expecting to see him worry, I'd not thought him capable of emotions other than annoyance.

"I'm honestly fine, Dad, we made sure it was okay." She rolled her eyes at him, but still smiled. "I'm not a little filly anymore, I know what I'm doing."

"I know, I know, but let an old man fuss over his daughter." He replied, ruffling her mane. It was honestly a little bit sweet seeing this otherwise stoic griffon being so fatherly despite himself. "I'm still going to get some clean bandages. Does Ms. Fowl need any help clearing out the dogs?"

"Nah, we got 'em all." She shook her head as he turned to leave, brushing past me again like I wasn't there. She looked at me as he left, injured leg held off the ground a little. "Well, I hope you like eggs because now we have a lot. A lot."

"Hhhow many?" I enquired. Make Do pulled the lid of the basket off, revealing it to be absolutely packed to the brim with eggs, to an almost comical degree. "That, um... that is a lot of eggs."

"Right?" She beamed, flicking on the stove. "We didn't know how to work out payment so we agreed on a gross. Did you know that's 144 eggs? I had no idea!"

I was at a loss as to how she was going to keep this many eggs unless we were literally going to have eggs for every meal, which in all fairness wasn't beyond the realm of possibilities. Rather than think about it too much I just took a seat at the table, content to just see what exactly she was going to do with these eggs as she floated out various pots and pans. She hobbled around on three legs for the most part, her bad leg quickly retracting after any minimal contact with the ground.

Wait this isn't right, she's hurt, the least I could do after everything she'd done for me was cook dinner this time.

"Why don't you sit down and let me cook tonight? Rest your leg up?"

"Really?" She seemed surprised, a little shocked even. "That'd be really nice, actually. Thanks, Silver!"

We swapped places, her a moving a bit more unsteady than me, and she flashed me a smile as she passed, bright and full of gratitude. I didn't think it was that big of a deal personally, but it was nice to know my efforts were appreciated.

"Alrighty then little miss mender, let's take a look at that leg." Rumbled Mr. Goldwing as he reappeared, tending to his now seated daughter. Was this even the same Griffon?

Okay, dinner. Eggs for dinner. What can I do? What egg based recipes have I got in me? I stood there in front of the stove, staring at the open flame burning away.

I sank internally. I didn't know any egg dishes.

I'm not a cook, okay? I always grabbed dinner out, I've never been good in the kitchen. I volunteered for this because it was the right thing to do, but now I didn't know what I was going to cook. I couldn't not do it now either. What was I supposed to do, make an injured pony get back up mid-bandage swap to cook me dinner?

Okay, I could do this, I just had to think of something. Simple, preferably. I'd seen Noite Cooke omelettes loads of times, she's a real whiz in the kitchen, I just had to remember what she did. How hard could it be? I won't claim to be an expert in Lusitano cuisine but I'm pretty sure any kind of omelette is essentially just eggs with things put in it, right? Eggs in a pan with toppings, surely I could pull that off?

Rifling through the cupboards I pulled out a big frying pan and sat it on top of the flame, heating it up. What else would I need? Eggs, obviously, and a spatula. And some other stuff to add in.

I pulled the fridge open and scanned the interior. There wasn't a whole lot in the way of veggies or herbs or anything, but also being totally honest didn't really know what I'd even be looking for anyway. There was a bundle of loose leaves tied up with a string, though. Parsley, maybe? I'm pretty sure Noite put parsley in her omelettes. I grabbed that and a pretty sizable onion as my ingredients.

Okay, plan, ingredients, utensis. Sorted. I could do this.

"I am so sorry."

As it turns out, I could not do it.

I was mortified. I couldn't look either of them in the face. Sat at each place on the table was a plate absolutely loaded with burnt scrambled egg, chunky onion and mint. 'Burnt' may even have been generous, it was somehow blackened and crips yet also underdone and runny at the same time. I don't know if I could have done a worse job if I had tried to.

"It's uh... Well, I'm sure it'll be fine... It's the thought thst counts." Make Do forced a smile as she poked at the food with a fork, prompting a chunk of it to crumble off. Mr. Goldwing was just staring at his plate. I rested my head in my hooves so I didn't have to watch them try to eat this mess.

The smell alone was bad enough, like somepony set fire to a bottle of shampoo in a kebab shop. I could hear the sound of cutlery, sounding like a saw through cardboard, but a touch squelchier. All I could do was cringe.

"It tastes... interesting." Make Do offered, very diplomatically.

"You can say it's bad. I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't know what you guys mean, this is good." Me. Goldwing butted in, sentence flanked by crunching and chewing. I peeked up to see him with his cheeks full, holding the whole 'omelette' in his talons like it was a sandwich, carbonated crumbs falling to the table. He actually genuinely seemed to be enjoying it, somehow.

"'Good'?"

"The texture is great, the mint offsets the onion, and it has a bitter edge to it from the burning." He explained between bites. "It's good."

I stared in disbelief as he practically demolished the abomination. Make Do looked on similarly, prodding at her own food. Could it actually be good?

Only one way to find out I suppose. Taking a knife and fork in hoof, I cut a chunk free and stabbed at it, lifting it to my face. It didn't look good, and it didn't smell nice, but neither did parmesan and that was pretty tasty. I took a bite.

It was godawful. Acrid on the tounge, dry yet somehow sloppy. I spat it back out onto my plate. Make Do had not gone in for more.

"Well if neither of you are eating, I'll have them." Mr. Goldwing said, eagerly piling our leftovers onto his now empty plate, apparently shedding his cool and aloof personality to excitedly shove food in his beak.

The griffon palette, it seems, is strange. Still, I got to crack a smile about it, even if I was still hungry.

"Nnf... H-hey Silv, great timing!" Make Do called as I walked into the kitchen. The Unicorn was propped up against the table and did not look good, pale and sweaty, her voice had a croaky edge to it.

"Goodness, are you okay?"

"Not really." She huffed, straining to keep her head up. "Ms. Fowl cleaned my bite, but I maybe sorta kinda forgot to disinfect it when I got home..."

"You forgot?" I chided, taking some of her weight to help her to stand more normally. "You told your dad it'd already been done!"

"I don't like it, okay? It stings and I'm usually fine without it and I'm an idiot? Happy?" She huffed before immediately softening. "Sorry, that wasn't fair, just my head is swimming right now."

"Come on, let's get you off your hooves." I breathed, letting her lean on my fully as we shuffled to her room. I'd never actually been in myself. It was bigger than mine and a lot messier. Aprons and jackets and goggles were strewn across the floor, a desk sat covered in paper, tools and fixings, and in the far corner was a small bed below a window frame with the curtains drawn, barely illuminating the room in a dull glow. Her shotgun was propped up against the wall beside the bed in a manner that didn't feel all too safe to me. I shuddered to imagine it falling over and going off...

Make Do flopped down onto the bed, deforming the matress and bouncing lightly, spreading herself out.

"Buck it's hot in here." She moaned, fanning herself.

"It's not really. I think you have a fever."

"Yeah, no shit- sorry, sorry, I just really feel like ass right now." She said, flopping a foreleg over her eyes. "Hey Silv, can you do me a favor?"

"What do you need?"

"You remember the Barnyard Bargains we went by when I took you to see the city? There's a preserve chest in there full of medicine. I need you to get me a purging potion so I can get over whatever this is. Please?"

"B-barnyard Bargains? You mean, like, a-alone?" I had thought she was going to ask me for a glass of water or some painkillers or something, not this. In theory this was a pretty reasonable request, but I hadn't been outside on my own yet. The idea alone was scary. What if I ran into something?

"Please, my dad'll kill me if he found out I didn't treat it properly!" She pled. "He's out at the moment, I need the potion before he gets back. Pretty please?"

"I-I don't know..."

"Look, dad said you're a pretty decent shot and those overalls from the other day are pretty alright protection if it makes you feel better." She stared up at me with big eyes, genuine worry painted across her face. "Please, I know you can do it, it's just a trip to the store and back."

She shivered slightly and curled herself up on top of the sheets. I wasn't a nurse by any stretch, but I'd hung out with Perfect enough to know that she did actually seem pretty ill and probably wouldn't get better on her own, infected wounds could kill. She groaned, sweat already starting to soak into the fabric around her.

I sighed, I had to do something. It was just popping to the shop after all, I'd done it thousands of times. Different circumstances, granted, but I shouldn't be this intimidated by the idea of going out alone. I'd gotten the gist of the area by now, I think. "Okay, fine, but if you get hurt again you're treating the cut properly, okay?" I scolded her, honestly from everything she's told me she should definitely know better.

"I know, I'm stupid." She breathed. "Not going through this again."

"What am I looking for?"

"The purging potion is a little green vial, there were a few left last time I checked. Top shelf, I think. The preserve chest is a huge white thing, looks like a fridge fused to the wall, it's behind the counter of the pharmacy."

"Do you want me to just grab them all?" I quizzed. It seemed silly to me to leave a load of medicine sitting out of the way.

"No, their matrix is volatile, they need to be kept in preservation environments and I don't know how to enchant something like that."

"Then why don't-"

"It's a part of the building, not an appliance. It can't be removed, believe me, I've tried."

Well, so much for that.

"The potion starts to degrade once you take it out of the chest, so you'll have to hurry home." She elaborated. "Big 'if', but if there are any healing potions left in the pharmacy grab them too, they're always handy."

"I'll uh, I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you." She mewed, sounding weak and small. "Please don't tell my dad about this, okay?"

"Righto." I agreed. She seemed really hung up about her dad. "I don't suppose you've got anything over that those overalls at all? They're just a bit... snug."

"Okay, forget the overalls, take my jacket, it's armored if that makes you feel better."

Her jacket was spread out on the floor by her bed. I thought about picking it up, but I glanced back at the Unicorn first. She looked so small right now. I had assumed she was younger than me, but maybe I had underestimated just how young she was. To be so concerned about not letting her dad know about any of this, like a teenager breaking into the alcohol cabinet for the first time.

"I... don't think that'll fit me either."

"Shit, uh... buck, my dad probably has some spare plates in his closet, you can wear those. And grab those saddlebags too." She gesticulated somewhere towards the floor by the bed at a pile of clothes.

"I-is all this really necessary?" I asked as I dug through the heap, eventually finding a bag. Truth be told going to fetch armour was only making me feel worse about going out.

"Probably not, but better safe than sorry, right?" Make Do answered. I didn't have the heart to point out the irony in her statement. "Grab them anyway, can't hurt."

I ventured back out and into Mr. Goldwing's room. It was pretty barren, almost the opposite of Make Do's. The floor was clear, there was a neatly folded set of barding in the corner, some boxes of various ammunition, and the closet Make Do had directed me to. A hammock hung above my head, spanning the room from corner to corner. Even though he wasn't here, I still felt an oppressive aura upon entering, like the room itself was telling me he wouldn't want me poking around in here. Truth be told I didn't want to be poking around, this felt something like an invasion of privacy.

I swung the door open to reveal a very well organised wardrobe inside. Sets of barding and armour hung from a rail, along with what looked to be some kind of suit and a raincoat. All far too big for me though. Below was a shelf with various bits of metal with straps affixed. These must have been the plates Make Do meant. I fished out a few, long thin ones to tie to my legs and a big vest looking one that sat around my barrel. They were surprisingly tricky to put on—knots are difficult to tie with hooves—but I got there eventually. Some of it felt a little loose but I didn't think that I could do a better job. I did feel a lot heavier, though. Sturdy, I suppose, if not a bit too big for me. To top everything off I swung the bags over my back.

I went back to my room to grab my gun. I flipped the cylinder open to check it was loaded and then fwipped it back closed, giving it a satisfying spin since Mr. Goldwing wasn't around. I dumped a box of bullets into one side of the bag, just in case I needed them. I hoped I wouldn't.

This was strange, I felt like a knight, I clanked when I moved. I must have looked kind of imposing and scary in all this, but that was a cheque I wouldn't be able to cash.

Not that I'd have to, because I was just going to the shop, everything would be fine. Make Do wouldn't have asked me to go if she didn't think I could handle it, surely.

"Ehy 'hink mn 'ehddy." I said as best as I could with the gun in my mouth, noisily navigating back to the unicorn's room.

"We have got to find you a holster." She groaned. "Okay, purging potion, preserve chest in the pharmacy, got it?"

I nodded.

"Okay, good, thank you. Seriously, you're a life saver. Door's unlocked already, you got this! I'll just be here trying not to vomit."

She really didn't look in a good way. Hopefully I could do what I needed to do and get out.

I took a deep breath and prepared myself. I remembered the way there, I just had to find the chest and get back home. Easy peasy.

The front door rattled along it's railings, opening up to the slightly damp, chilly air that seemed to be permanently hovering around town. I was outside, by myself.

I trotted through the scrap piles and to the gate, leaving the safety of Make Do's house properly. I was out in the open now, fully exposed. In the few times we had been out I'd never encountered much of anything around here, save for a Spritebot once, but now I didn't have anypony to back me up I felt on edge already. I looked up and down the road, nothing had changed, same old piles of rubble. Steeling myself, I stepped out and started walking. Nothing bad had happened out here as far as I knew, but I was clenching my gun for dear life, constantly checking behind me. Just in case. After the whole ordeal in the lab I was doing my best to make sure that nothing could get the jump on me.

Part of me couldn't believe I was doing this. Another part couldn't believe that it was that big of a deal. A third, smaller part was outraged that I was doing this just to save Make Do getting scolded. A fourth part reasonably leveled that she was sick and helping was the right thing to do.

She did look really sick. I don't think I could've sat this out if I wanted to, she already seemed worse when I left than when I helped her to bed, that was pretty worrying. Infections don't mess around, Perfect had told me about somepony who lost a leg to an infected paper cut once. Scary stuff.

But that wasn't worth thinking about now, all I had to do was bring back the potion, simple.

I cantered a course around the old carts strewn across the paving and past the blockade. I could see the tunnel now, drawing closer to the dark and foreboding mouth. Hopefully there'd be no enormous creepy crawlies hiding in there this time. I let my tounge sit across the trigger, just in case.

The tunnel seemed to be funneling a wind, my mane whipping in the gust as I got closer, I had to squint to stop it drying out my eyes. I stopped just short of entering to scan ahead. It was dark but I could see all the junk barricades and cans I'd practiced shooting at the other day. And my old bullet casings. And the lifeless, chitinous form of the 'bloatsprite' I'd encountered. I eyed it for a moment, just to make sure it wasn't going anywhere, before staring further down to try and see if any of it's friends had decided to join it. But the path ahead was thankfully void of life, and I couldn't hear any buzzing or chittering up ahead.

I gingerly crossed the threshold and ventured into the darkness, by hoofsteps almost drowned out by the rushing wind. I weaved around the debris, stepping over the brass shells and green blood on the floor. I should have brought a torch.

It really wasn't long before I saw the literal light at the end of the tunnel though. Turning the corner and walking back out into daylight, the wind easing up a little but still very much present.

I hadn't been back this far yet, not since that first day. Flanked by dead forests either side of the road and the path ahead littered with rusted out shopping carts. Birds flew overhead, branches rustled, the Barnyard Bargains sign groaned and swayed gently above the treeline. Thankfully I couldn't see the city from here, I really didn't need that today.

Moving forward, I followed the road through carts and boxes and junk up until I split off the off-ramp into the entrance, heading on up to the cart park. I probably shouldn't have been surprised by the amount of wagons that were still here, if there was ever a place for them it would be here after all. Closer to the building itself I could see what looked to be the burnt out wrecks of some sky carriages.

As I got closer I saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks. There were still bodies in these sky carriages. Charred, blackened skeletons were strewn all around the insides, visible through the windows and gaps in the incinerated metalwork, weather worn and broken, but still present. I almost dropped my gun. By now I knew things were bad, but I would never in my wildest dreams and thought it could be this bad. Literal corpses left to rot out in the open. These were ponies with lives and families and dreams left festering out in the open for who knows how long. Had they been here since the megaspell went off? It was either that, or this was more recent and I didn't really want to think about that.

To think that not once had anypony thought to properly bury these bodies was tremendously sad. Surely somepony could have done something for these poor souls? Empty sockets looked back at me, skulls silently screaming, trapped forever in what ever horror befell these ponies. All just... left out here.

It wasn't like nopony had been here before, that these ponies had been long lost, there were signs of activity everywhere. A pile of clothes by the store entrance, open tin cans and boxes, desire lines worn into the ground, hells, it even looked like parts of the sky carriages had been cut away and salvaged! Ponies had been here, just none of them cared enough to do the right thing. I would have done something myself, but I didn’t have the time, this was a lot of bodies and I was just one pony. I shook my head and thought to myself that this was different, that if I had the time I'd certainly give these bodies a proper send off. If I could bare to touch them. Could I? I'd never even seen a dead body before, let alone a pile of incinerated corpses.

I was getting caught up in myself again.

I spared a solemn moment and collected myself, a moment of silence for these poor souls. I could only hope whatever happened was quick. If I could do something it would have to wait for now at least.

Now feeling sort of hollow on the inside I slowly carried on. The doors to the shop weren't wide open per se, one set of double doors was chained shut and the other was ajar, swaying slightly in the breeze. The facade of the building was crumbling, washed out and covered in dead vines crawling their way around the walls. The glass was all long shattered, though it looked like some attempt was made to board the windows over at some point. I focused on moving ahead, snorting as a edged closer to the open door. I gently nudged it, it swung freely, slowly revealing the interior of the building.

I cantered over the debris laden floor, trying my best not to trip. The first thing I noticed was that this place had clearly been decimated over the years. It made perfect sense that the first thing ponies might do after a catastrophe was to go and gather food and resources, but it was still weird being in a shop that was so empty. Almost uncanny. Hopefully that wasn't a sign of things to come in the pharmacy. Daylight streamed in through big holes in the ceiling, spotlighting rows and rows of barren shelves. The building creaked, dust fell from the roof, rusted metal rafters hanging down. This place was a deathtrap!

Ideally I wouldn't be spending any longer in here than necessary. The signs over the aisles had long since funded illegiblity, I briefly entertained the thought of jumping to try and see over the shelves so that I might be able to see where I wanted to go, but decided it'd be much less silly to just walk through the place.

Rubble crunched underhoof as I set forward. Going wasn't as fast as I'd have liked given just how uneven the floor was after decades of abuse, especially since the piles of dead leaves everywhere meant I couldn't really see what I was stepping on. Stubborn weeds poked up through cracks, I swished my tail to keep rogue mosquitos away from me. I ducked under cobwebs and bobbed around fallen shelves that blocked the way. There were somehow less shopping carts in here than outside, wasn't sure what that was all about. Judging by the chirping there were birds nested in the roof. I kept a wary eye out for them, I could do without being swarmed again.

Once I'd gotten between rows I finally caught a glimpse of a giant 'PHARMACY' sign proudly displayed on the far wall, right at the back. Proudly may have been an exaggeration, the letters looked to be wood, and were rotten and peeling. One had fallen off entirely. 'Harmacy'. That did kind of get a chuckle out of me at least.

Something rustled behind me. I whipped around faster than I'd ever moved before, if I was a cat I'd have had my hackles up. I turned back just in time to see a mangey looking fox running away from me down what used to be a produce aisle. I tracked it as it scampered out of sight, kicking up dust under paw, only then exhaling.

Maybe I was just the slightest tad bit tense. I didn't realise how tight I was gripping the gun until my teeth started hurting. My heart was pounding. I needed to chill out, I was here now and nothing was trying to kill me. I forced myself to relax a little, loosening my tighted muscles, deflexing, immediately feeling a bit lighter for it.

I turned back and carried on towards the pharmacy, carrying on through the shop. One shelf in particular was bent out of shape and splattered with blood. So much for chilling out.

A more urgent canter had me reaching my desitnation, finding the counter shuttered. A closed wooden door on the side of the kiosk showed semi-regular signs of usage, the ground where it swung was clear. I guessed this must have been some kind of communal medical supply for locals now, not that I'd seen anypony else yet. The walls were scrawled with spray paint.

"TAKE ONLY WHAT YOU NEED,
DON'T BE A PLOTHEAD!"

Colourful decor I suppose. Kind of confirmed my theory, too. I pulled the door open and slipped inside.

I definitely should have brought a torch. There was no light at all in here, save what precious little weakly filtered around me through the now open door way.

My eyes adjusted as I cautiously stepped forwards. Long ransacked tills sat rusted open and receipt papered was thrown around everywhere. It was only a small space so it wasn't hard to miss the chest I was looking for. The thing was huge, the whole length of the room and a bit taller than I was, I could hear the magic imbued in it gently tinkling away. It was pretty amazing that it was still going after all this time. I couldn't see all too well, but the thing looked practically new. Well, comparatively new I suppose. But still, it was in great shape for something that had presumably been running without maintenence for almost two centuries.

ARCANE PRESERVATION CHEST
PROUDLY PRODUCED BY TIMELESS INDUSTRIES

There was some more text underneith that I couldn't quite read. I yanked on the handle, pulling the door open. I had to take a step back to give it space. The tinkling stopped and a little gem inside lit up, illuminating the space. When Make Do said it that it would look like a fridge I didn't expect it to just be, for all intents and purposes, a magic fridge.

The light did actually illuminate the rest of the room just a little bit. Enough for me to see the mold on the walls. Probably best to get out of here quickly.

The inside of the chest was sparse, but not empty just yet. There were some boxes of presumably pills, a smattering of syringes, a bag of mystery liquid, some squezey toothpaste-looking tubes, and on the top shelf was a few small bottles organised by the colour of the fluid contained within.

Little green vial, top left. That had to be the one I needed. The glass clanked as I stretched up to reach it, securing it in my bag.

Well, I suppose that was that. Easy enough in the end. I smiled and kicked the door chest door closed, the contents rattling as it thudded shut. Go on, me! I know it wasn't much, but I'd done something by myself in this new scary world! That counted for something, to me at least. One small step and all that.

Though maybe I should actually get this medicine back to Make Do before I congratulated myself on a job well done.

I took my sense of self accomplishment and strutted out of the room, back into the relative wide open of the shop floor. Home stretch now, I just had to get out of this deathtrap, not think about the bodies outside too much, and get back to the junkyard.

Trotting back over the crumbly, uneven floor as quickly as I could, I ended up back in the middle of the store pretty quickly, zigzagging to find an unblocked aisle to go down. I was almost on the home straight when I heard chittering behind me. Hissing. Loud.

I debated not looking back for a split second before common sense decided I should probably actually see what was going on.

The wet, half-rotted remains of what I think used to be a fox were splayed out on the ground. At least the back half was, I couldn't actually see the front half under the crawling mass of horrifically large cockroaches. Some of them had to be the size of my head! And they were looking at me.

You had better belived that I'd never moved as fast in my life as when I saw the first one's wings open up. Nope. No way, I am not dealing with an army of giant killer roaches. Not today. I'm not ashamed to say I bolted, galloping an stumbling away from the oversized insects as fast as I could. There were too many of them to fight anyway, and I could live the rest of my life happy if I was never that close to another one again.

The worst thing was that I could hear them buzzing after me, clumsily flapping against the shelves, greasy gosammer wings beating the air into submission. I couldn't tell if they were gaining on me or not, there were enough of them that the sound all blended together, and the noise of crunchy gravel and rubbish under hoof certainly didn't help either.

I could see daylight streaming through the ope front door. I just needed to get out and I could lose them.

Unfortunately for me I lost my footing on the last stretch, sending me arse over head and tumbling outside, my hind slamming the door wide open and leaving me on my back on the dirty old paving slabs. I didn't really have time to process all of this though, the last thing I needed was any of those things getting close enough to touch me. I scrambled to my hooves and took a hard right away from the entrance.

I looked back to see at least a dozen cockroaches explode out of the doorway, careening in every direction. I don't think they were particularly good trackers as most of them sailed past me entirely, even though I was huffing pretty loudly.

A couple of them did come for me, though. They were even more disgusting in the light, shiny brown chitin encrusted wity old blood and dust, segmented limbs reaching out towards me, iridescent wings blurring away. Those horrible bug eyes, and I don't even want to think about it's mouth.

I squeezed the trigger on my pistol, tearing right through the first one's head and sending it falling to the floor in spray of viscous fluid and chunks.

Two more bullets tore off the second one's antennas and some of it's wings, leaving it spiraling and flailing around like a crab on it's back. I decided it best to get away before any more decided to come at me. I broke into a canter, following the treeline back to the road.

It wasn't until I was out of the parking area that I stopped to catch my breath, realising how tender my back and butt was from the fall. My hooves were dotted with flecks of dirt and little green splatters of bug blood, which was a bit grim. The sound of wings buzzing and chittering was still too loud for comfort so I picked up the pace until I got to the main road. Fortunately for me it seemed like the rest of the cockroaches weren't as inclined to follow me. Maybe the gunshots scared them? I certainly hoped so.

I chagrinned as I carried on. My butt hurt. Not enough to be debilitating, but enough. At least my heart rate was going down though, I was not expecting to be chased like that. To... kill.

I know they were just bugs, and they were after me, and they were scary and I'm pretty sure they were eating that corpse, but I still felt weird about it. Who was I to decide what lives and what dies? I was probably getting too philosophical about it, but it was truly a struggle I had never in my life thought I'd be involved in.

Maybe it wasn't such a big deal, I was overreacting. It's not like I'd shot a pony or anything, I don't think I could ever bring myself to do that. And it's not like I hadn't accidentally killed bugs before. Yes, the intent wasn't there and they weren't so enormous, but it wasn't that different, right? And I dread to think what might have happened if I didn't fight back. The thought of being swarmed by those things sent a shiver up my back. Even still, I just couldn't shake this bad feeling over the whole ordeal. Sinking, I suppose, like I'd done something wrong.

I rolled my hips mid stride to see if that would ease the pain at all, but it didn't really help.

Well, everything else aside, I had gotten the potion and I'd done it by myself. It was still scary being alone out here, but this had to be a step in the right direction.

Huffing, I trotted down the road and back towards the junkyard. I still had a sick unicorm to help.