The Hotshots of Fallout Equestria

I shot up with a large gasp of air. A plain of pearl desert appeared before my eyes, a bright sun rising on the horizon, the sky lit in a fire of gold below a haze of orange. It was strange; I had never experienced such an extent of desert. It was beautiful. I stood on the wasteland, trapped on the grey, dead land. My vision jumped two miles west to a wooden sign standing tall, rising far above the orchard of dead tangled bushes around it. I slowly treaded over the grey dust below me, noticing how a long stretch of gems lay between the desolate land I rested upon and the sea of freedom shining onto my dull coat. In a moment I was beside the sign. Gazing at the polished wood I read ‘Salvation’ carved with a hollow glow. I felt no desire to cross into the baked lands named Salvation, however before I could turn around a cloak of darkness formed around me.

I shot up with a large gasp of air. I found myself under a ragged brown sheet, my nose protruding from one of the holes ripped due to the many years of use. My first thought was, as usual, an off topic one. I wondered why we hadn’t bought new sheets. The drug business brought in a hefty amount of bottle caps, so why had we not invested in something comfortable?

Anyway, my body practically bitchslapped me out of my silly thought as I felt a chill run down my spine. As I sat up I feared the worst as I felt the soaked mattress beneath me. Before I could put two and two together I jumped off the bed without a thought and landed with a cry of pain.

“Dahhhh!”

Dusk sped into the ruined house. “What are you doing, Ronnie?” The dark blue pony asked sternly, as a father would to his son. He checked the bed and chuckled. “By Luna, you’ve had quite the sweat on, haven’t you?” He and Dawn were the only Hotshot’s without a ‘gangster’ accent. Dusk was very gentleman-like, while Dawn sounded a lot more... well, barbaric. She hardly spoke properly, missing out nearly every letter in every word.

He then lifted me back onto the cold bed. I groaned as it slumped onto the bed, however I only sat on it, I couldn’t lie down again. Too cold. “So it’s not piss or blood?” He laughed once again, not willing to hold it back. I then realised my hat and jacket were missing, and with one quick look around the room I couldn’t spot either.

“Of course not, what kind of doctor would I be then?” He replied, interrupting my search. I nodded with half a smile and took a moment to look around properly, viewing the burnt oval building around us that may have been bustling with friendly ponies a few hundred years ago, and the musty fog approaching from across the fields of dead earth outside the window that could have been ripe with strawberries over hills of lush green grass in the summertime.

The pre-war ruin I rested under gave us the privilege of four black beams rising up from the ground. They were dug in and stable enough for us to pin up a navy waterproof cover we managed to barter for in Friendship City. It didn’t seem like it was going to rain, but the way the wasteland works you can never be sure. One day it might be just clouds, the next a gale force wind along with hail.

A soft breeze fluttered the roof slightly, allowing the dim light to shine through a little more. That wind was a refreshing gift as it rustled my hatless mane. I noticed that morning had risen, and I was surprised we hadn’t moved out yet. “What time is it? How come we haven’t left?”

“Take it easy.” Dusk said with a pat on my shoulder. “You’re still recovering.” I sighed at his remark, knowing I could handle myself. He rolled his eyes, knowing I probably couldn’t. “It’s noon. But Tick’s said we aren’t moving until you’re on your feet.”

I almost felt touched at this gesture from Tick, yet something told me there was another reason. My hoof ran down my leg as I felt the mixture of bandages and leather straps covering my wounded leg. It may have been some drug, something extra Dusk gave me to numb the pain, but it felt like nothing ever happened. Literally no matter how hard I rubbed my leg I got no feeling. Beside the bed were Dusk’s tools, the standard knives and saws any medic would use. I took one knife between my hooves and began cutting through the cast.

Dusk put his hoof on mine, his eyes frowning in concern. “Don’t undo it, it’s probably not ready.” I simply shrugged.

I had gotten halfway through when I saw the beginnings of a fresh scar. I ripped apart the rest to reveal a raw, star shaped scar covering a section of my back left leg.

“Ah!” Dusk said quite surprised. “It coulda been a lot worse, eh?” He winked reassuringly.

I didn’t feel any better; the only word I could muster up was “Shit.”

I tried to stand on the leg, but it hurt like hell the first time. “The bandaged tightened it up enough to block out the pain.” Dusk informed me, albeit a little too late as I mumbled curses in pain. “The feeling should be coming back now.” He offered a hoof to lean on, which I gladly accepted. After a few more attempts I sealed away the pain and managed a few steps before being forced to lean on him again. Once I felt confident enough to circle the room my own I noticed just how thirsty I was. Each groan felt like a cactus prickling my throat.

“You got any water?” I asked with a grated voice, though he didn’t hear me at first. “Water?” I asked once more, this time his ears poked up and he moved over to a few supplies in the corner of the room. He found a bottle of water in the top box of the pile and levitated it over to me, even feeling the need to twist off the bottle cap.

I took a big gulp and smiled graciously. “Hey Dusk, thank you.” I said with my deepest gratitude. He began shaking his head but I wouldn’t have any of it. “No seriously, I’d be in a shittier state if it weren’t for you.” With a raise of my eyebrows I finished with “I owe you.”

“Leave it out, Ronnie.” He said in return, walking up to me and placing a leg around my neck. “It’s my job after all.” He then handed me a bottle of yellow liquid with a wink. “Drink it; it’ll help your throat.”

I smiled with thanks and jugged the medicine in one, which was a mistake. It tasted like a mixture of sick and soil, with a hint of unneeded sweetness. I coughed violently and tried to stop myself from gagging the taste was so bad. Dusk did nothing but laugh.

“You always were a heavy drinker, Ronnie.” He chuckled and reached into one of his black woollen coat pockets, the six jet black buttons sewn deep into the jacket shone brightly with the amount of polishing up he gave them, and dug around for something. Big, black woollen winter coats were the common-wear for The Hotshots, you’d find most of the gang wearing one apart from me (cus am speshul) and Tick, who was accustomed to a brown leather duster coat with the collar turned up.

A few seconds passed before Dusk successfully found the packet of cigarettes he’d been looking for. Shooting me a cheeky wink he opened the packet and levitated into my mouth, I accepting it with glee. He lit it with a near-empty lighter, which I noticed with a pretend fright. “Dusk, we’ll need another one of those soon. Luna knows how we’ll survive without ‘em.” A puff of smoke rose between us as my eyebrow’s rose in a feigned worry, though a smile reached the corner of my cheeks.

Suddenly a thought popped into my mind. “Where’s the unicorn?” This time my eyebrows were raised in actual concern. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t spared a thought for her sooner.

The pony stood silent in deep thought, scratching his combed yellow mane. I wondered how he could forget, but with a roll of his eyes he apologised.

“Hey, it seems like you forgot too.” He joked. “She’s fine Ronnie; just shaken up, as you would expect. Nothing she needs my help with, anyway.”

I sighed in relief and decided it was time to see Tick. “Where’s the boss?” I inquired quietly as I began limping towards the ruin’s exit.

“He should be in the centre of the camp, literally outside here.” He answered confidently, getting on with clearing away his tools and supplies. “No doubt we’ll be setting off soon now you’re up.”

As Dusk had said Tick was standing outside our main tent, which rose high and circular. Before I called to him I noticed he was occupied and boy did I believe I was still dreaming when I saw who with.

Someone I heard of only in legends towered above Tick. I mean, Tick was shorter than the average pony anyway, his temper matching his height, but Luna’s Tit, a Griffon stood over him! What was once her clean white feathered face was now riddled with stains and red cuts, her talons so damn sharp...

As I crept up to him unsteadily I overheard their conversation. Apparently she had a run in with nearly twenty feral ghouls, but gunned them down with little trouble. Reputation means life or death in this place. Then again, reputation and lies can be exchanged just as easy as bottle caps and berries. In fact, bottle caps can be exchanged for reputation.

“Tick.” I said with a sudden raspy voice, still recovering from the foul drink.

His ears pricked up at the speed of light, followed by a swift swish of his combed black mane and an ecstatic smile. He jogged over to me, completely blanking the Griffon. Her face showed no sign of annoyance though, to my relief.

“Ronnie!” He announced so loud he may as well have been informing the camp of my recovery. Once he reached me his eyes scanned me head to hoof, stopping with anger when he spots my scarred leg, though a grin soon returns. “Don’t you look like shit.” We chuckled and hugged, glad to be standing together once again. “You feeling ok? Your leg don’t look too good.” Tick bent down to get a better view of my itchy scar, and he too noticed a resemblance. “Looks quite similar to a star, eh?”

“Yeah I see it too.” I said with a nod. “I’m fine though, just a bit roughed up. Glad you arrived at the nick of time.” I jokingly pushed him with a laugh, but my attention quickly averted to the newcomer. I lowered my voice, unsure of how Griffon’s are with being talked about. “Who’s the griffin? Talon?”

Tick glanced behind for a while, eyeing her for a decent amount of time. He turned back with a proud look painting his face and a twinkle in his eye. “Ex.”

Set ups like that couldn’t go unnoticed, especially in the company of close friends. Tick should have know what was coming. “What?” I said, acting confused, “Ex mare-friend or ex mercenary?”

I kept a straight face for as long as I could but Tick did not seem amused. I tried to hold back a giggle, but it was inevitable. I grinned and Tick laughed. “Still a funny guy you, eh? Very funny.”

“Oh, hilarious.” I cautiously walked over to the Griffon with Tick, watching every movement she made. “Seriously though, care to introduce?” I was ready for anything she tried. One wrong move and... I never got my gun back. Well, I was done for if a scrap broke out. Luckily for me she turned out to be a good apple.

Tick positioned himself between us I politely acquainted myself.

“Names Ronnie,” I said, holding out a hoof, “Good friend o’ Tickedy Tock the big Hotshot.” I let out another puff of smoke, making sure to face away from the Griffon to avoid anything unnecessary. I hoped the Griffon was up for a little joke, because Tick sure as hell seemed a bit anxious and embarrassed.

She hesitantly received my hoof with her powerful claw and shook once. “Diame Sharptail.” She said nothing more.

Diame was like something out of a myth. Dark emerald eyes glanced back at me, just like mine, though much more star striking. Perhaps the most beautiful shade of purple I had ever seen painted the tips of her feathers as they drifted in the cold air. She had a fairly small yellow beak with a tip so seemingly sharp I reckoned it could have penetrated the battle worn plate armour protecting her torso with ease. Plus the sight of her obsidian-like claws struck a chill of doubt in my bones. This girl was a walking death machine. I hoped Tick realised that too.

The Talon Mercenaries had it out for us ever since they found we were selling drugs in high quantities, or in Hotshot’s term, ‘professionally’. Every now and again we’d see a griffon scout or two stalking us as we travelled the wasteland, but they knew we could shoot just as good as them. Most of us descended from a family of criminals for Celestia’s sake, we were born to shoot.

Luckily for the wasteland, and probably us, we weren’t murderers. We never killed innocents. If we killed somepony then they must have done something seriously wrong, whether it was to some individual or to our business as a whole. Usually Tick dealt out the punishments, as you can imagine.

My coat itched immensely as I stood with them, and the breeze was beginning to lose its warmth. I longed for my jacket and hat. “Hey Hotshot,” I said after a few moments of awkward silence, “I gotta go get cleaned up. When we moving?”

“I want this camp cleared in ten minutes!” He ordered to everypony. The camp was moderately large, so most ponies were either inside tents or around the back of them. Regardless, they all heard him. Tick then leaned in close and said “Half an hour.” And with that he wandered off with the Griffon between two tents, within one of which he began yelling at some poor soul for dirtying a sleeping bag.

Dusk had watched the meet and greet and was waiting for me by three dry crates of food, piled in a pyramid style. Rot had been jokingly labelled on the side of one. “Interesting character, that Griffon.”

I nodded and looked back, just in time to see her disappear from sight. “Definitely. We should keep an eye on her, she’s an ex Talon Mercenary after all.” I bit at my front left leg as it itched once again. “Where’s my jacket and hat? And when can we get a damn bath?”

“Well,” he began, however all I saw was him enjoying watching me suffer, “to answer your first question: your jacket and hat are with the filly. The second on the other hoof, I haven’t a clue.”

Of course it was with the filly. There was no way I could dodge her. “Come on then...” I dragged with a voice of boredom and annoyance, though secretly wanting to see Whitey. I wasn’t too sure why, but I needed to see that she was ok. I saved her, I should be able to.

Without a word Dusk led me through a short maze of tents and ruins. I hadn’t got a proper look at the camp the night before since the dark shaded out most of the ruins, but now I saw we had stumbled across a pre-war street, preserved incredibly quite well for it being a small distance from Manehatten.

We stopped at the most preserved pre-war house I had ever laid my eyes on. Though the windows had shattered hundreds of years before, the front face remained incredibly intact, standing tall and proud around broken foundations of its neighbours. I almost believed the house to be whole, until I entered. All colour had faded from the once décor home and a grey fence ran around the front garden’s perimeter, guarding the lonesome ruin.

Dusk had stopped at the gate, his attention elsewhere. I said my thanks as he trailed off and I took one more view of the house. Its top was oval, with a short spike reaching out on the roof whereas the lower half was a simple square, even if the edges were curved. It was a piece of history, waiting to be burned for firewood. Maybe there’s hope of rebuilding?

I limped inside, nearly pushing the door off its hinges as it hung diagonally against the entrance. Now the present day made itself apparent inside this glimmer of hope and history. A musky smell floated by my nose, trapped for ages within each room, the seats, stoves, lamps even. Everything was as it should be. Call me captain obvious but if I had the choice of this Equestria or the one before, well, isn’t it a given? Hotshot on the other hand? Forget it; it’s my story, not his. It was just; places and moments like that made you wonder and think hard about our past.

I found the little white unicorn sat in the kitchen, her eyes glued to quite a sight. The outer wall of the kitchen was completely missing, crisp foundations and bent pieces of wood protruding from the otherwise preserve kitchen. But it was what lay outside that caught both our attention.

We gazed at a paradise of green trees filled with apples upon apples ripe for the picking. Bright flowers of yellow, red and blue surrounded the orchards and sprung from the soft green grass proudly. And in the middle of it all a happy family of ponies enjoyed a picnic, a mother, a father, and filly and a colt, all laughed with one another in the grove. Sunshine lit their magnificent day, the mother pony bathing in the rays.

‘Paradise’ read the billboard.

It’s funny really, I bet nopony took notice of them pre-war, yet nowadays we can only dream about days like that. I blew a mist of smoke into the room as I longed for the family’s experience, seeing it float upwards and drift apart in the sky.

“You like that picture?” I said, breaking the silence. She jolted in shock. “Sorry, thought you knew I was here.” I smiled apologetically, even though she never turned to see me. Now I could get a proper look at her I was aware that Whitey was bigger than what I remembered, and her mane was much darker, nearly crimson. For a short time I gained no answer, so I sat against a rotting counter, the marble cracking as my weight fell onto it.

She must have felt my lingering presence, so she replied with a high pitched voice. “It reminds me of stories my sister read to me.” I heard a sniffle.

“Where’s your sister now?” I asked out of courtesy, wondering if I could unload this filly back onto any surviving family.

“I don’t know.” She replied with a cracking voice. I could tell she was about to bawl. “She put me on the cart and said “Go to sleep now. I’ll see you in Friendship City.” But how am I going to see her now?”

My stomach dropped. “So who was pulling the cart?”

“Mum. Dad. Souly’Gill.” Souly’Gill? Surely that was noponies proper name? Regardless, it wasn’t the time to be disrespectful. Her family had just been slaughtered by raiders. But then, I saw only two bodies, most likely the mother and father. What happened to the sister? Had she fled? Had she left Whitey to fend for herself?

I didn’t mention her family as I was sure she knew already, revealed by the fact she was crying her eyes out. I tried to change the subject. “You gotta name?”

From the sniffles and hiccups I heard “Skybairne.” That was a nice name. Not as nice as Whitey, though.

“Im-” before I could introduce myself Whitey interrupted me with a piercing scream.

“I DON’T CARE WHO YOU ARE! I… I… YOU’RE A MURDERER!”

Her accusation blew me right back. My mouth was gaped open and the stub of the cigarette slipped from my teeth. My blood boiled but at the same time my heart melted. She thought I had murdered her parents. I jumped off the counter and stomped hard on the floor, my boiling blood coursed through my veins much more than my heart melting.

“Who’d I murder?” I said, trying not to be sarcastic. After all, she was a child. “Before you say your family, I didn’t touch them. They were dead long before I got there.” I placed my hoof against my chest, hoping to convince her swiftly. “I was killing the ones ready to get you!”

My argument had no effect, it simply ricochet off her like my wild bullets during the skirmish. “You’re all murderers!” She yelled, her eyes squeezed shut as she placed her hooves against them, trying to hold back her tears. “That brown pony kicked another to death!” She was talking about Hotshot. Surely she realised that raider he killed was ready to kidnap her, at the least?

“You mean the raider that pounced on you and was ready to shoot you?” I wouldn't let her answer. “That there wasn't a pony. That there was a monster. Worse than the ones under your bed.” I was glad she listened carefully, though out of fear or interest I couldn't tell. “Be careful, ‘cause there’s a fine distinction between pony and monster, and it ain't always the appearance which tells you.” My leg began to throb so I leant back on the counter, stretching it out. “But, at the same time, normal ponies don’t wear damn spikes on their armour.”

“Do normal ponies wear leather jackets instead?” I couldn’t answer her truthfully. She couldn’t know we were in the drug business, yet we weren't normal ponies. At least, not as normal as the residents of New Appleloosa. Thought not as out of control as bandits either... so? I let the question rest.

Once again there was silence. The family on the billboard stared at me all four of them. The mum, the dad, and the colt and the filly. Their bold eyes distracted me, constantly glaring into mine. Skybairne still hadn’t turned around.

“My names Ronnie. Ronnie Searer, if you care, bearing in mind I was your meat shield for a short while. Luna damn it...” I muttered in pain “Fucking leg.” It felt like a heart had grown within my leg and was pulsating as it pleased.

For some reason my swearing caused Skybairne to finally take a look at me. The first thing she saw was my leg, then the fact I was unarmed, then my face. I smiled nervously, hoping to not creep her out, but she was fine.

I noticed her cutie mark was unusual. A fusion of blues, oranges and reds focused in a beam of light glistened down from a curtain of black cloud, painting her white flank. Would it come across weird if I inquired her about it? Could have.

“How’d you get your mark? It’s…” I searched my mind for the right word. “Colourful, to say the least.”

She glanced at it and said “I'm not sure.” I sighed in relief in my mind as it looked like she had calmed down. “All I remember was a bright light, and being woo-ey.” Woo-ey?

I couldn't help but grin at her dictionary. “What, like dazed?”

She smiled and yelled “Yeah!” with a crack in her voice.

“Interesting.” I said, nodding my head on top of my hoof.

I let out a deep breath and thought it time to go and help the camp pack up. That was until I heard a final question. “How did you get yours?” Whitey asked, studying my flank indiscreetly.

On either side of my back end were two blotches of tar. They were not my cutie mark; they hid it. They didn’t match too, making them even more unbearable.

“They ain’t my marks.” I said gravely, my head drooping. “My father wasn’t proud of my mark, so he decided the best thing to do was burn it away. Or at least conceal it for eternity.” I took a breath and gazed upwards. “As for what it was...” I took a second to think about telling her, but I endlessly hoped to forget about it myself. “It doesn’t matter. It’s who I am now that matters.” I didn’t really care that she wasn’t satisfied, frowning at me when I went all philosophical. “We’re moving out in twenty minutes anyway.” I added with a kind wink. “Now, where’s my jacket?”

I spotted it hanging beside the kitchen door; however my hat was nowhere to be seen. I threw it on and tried to find my hat, but I couldn’t seem to find it. “Hey, do you know where my-” She popped up next to me wearing the hat. “Very funny kid, very funny.” But then I spotted a difference in the fedora. Her horn was sticking out through a hole in the front. “Did you do that?” I sternly asked, holding back my anger. That hat had been with me for years, and now it was ruined.

Her ears dropped and she took a few steps back. “No, no! It was like that when I saw it!” She insisted, clearly still scared of me, that I might lash out at her. She pushed the hat off her head and retreated from it, back into the corner of the room.

Without a word I stepped forwards and took the hat in my mouth, then advanced on Whitey. She began to curl up defensively in the corner, holding her hooves infront of her face. I placed the hat on her head, adjusting it too fit the horn through the bullethole. I couldn’t help thinking it suited her.

A sharp pain had risen in my leg. Leaving Whitey to herself for a little while longer, I exited the house with a limp more painful than when I went in and headed straight for Dusk. I managed to come across Dusk’s sister, Dawn, in the tent just opposite the house. Sadly for both of us Kingsnake, the absolute dick-head of the group, was with her.

He was a right nob, completely pitch black with a dirty green tail that slithered like a snake, and his cutie mark a forked tongue. Nothing about him rang home as friendly, attractive or downright appealing to talk too. Dawn on the other hand was much like her brother, a unicorn, only her mane was orange and she was a lot more ill tempered. Her mark matched her brothers, as a sun rose from clouds in the right side, in the east, the only difference being her brothers was a sun dropping into clouds on the left side, in the west. They were twins, after all.

As I entered their low tent Dawn noticed me, and smirked at my leg. “Count yourself lucky.” I said in defence. “I took that watch for you.” The only remotely intelligible welcome from Snake was a hiss as he continues to gather up the materials they use to create Dash and Rage.

Like I said, we sell drugs, so we need somepony to make them. Dawn specialises in Dash while Snake has mastered Rage. We needed him to make money and that reason alone had saved his life numerous times. He didn’t know his place, reckoning that his craft raised his rank above most of the others in the camp. Truth is I’ve talked Tick out of killing him on various occasions. I wasn’t sure if long I could keep him alive much longer, though.

“Still funny though, Ronnie.” She continued to smirk, eyeing my scar as I leaned against a cleared workbench. Dawn lifted a box with her magic and planted it down beside me, nearly catching my front leg. “I need ya’ t’fix me pistol. Blocked I think.”

“Can’t I have a moment of peace?” I said in disbelief. I had just recovered for crying out loud.

With her magic she slid the box into my side. “You’re the repair pony, its yer job.” I couldn’t believe she was springing this on me now, right as we were about to move out. I had no magic or wings to help me on the way, so I decided I’d have to sit in one of the carts as we travelled along. Somepony was not going to be happy.

All of a sudden Snake joined in the conversation. “How’s the young one?” He said with his twisted tongue, his gritty voice giving no indication he cared. I do regret holding Tick back from killing him sometimes. Of all the things to talk about, this prick decides he wants to focus on a little filly. I prayed one night somepony might accidently place a pillow on his head and lean down. We needed his skills though. Fucking shame.

I tilted my head down and rubbed my forehead, breathing deeply between my teeth. “Leave her.” I spat. I stared him straight in the eyes and said “Or when I bury you, I’ll bury you blind.” And I fucking meant it.

He guffawed and finished piling his boxes, slamming the last of his equipment into a rotten crate. Fuck the bastard. Dawn rolled her eyes at him. She had never got on with him, but she was forced to work alongside him day in and out. Whenever we could have day off, perhaps while we stopped at New Appleloosa or Tenpony Tower, he would go off and get pissed or start a fight, and we’d all avoid him like the plague.

“I saw you brought back a bit o’ specialised equipmen’.” She said with a keen interest, even though I hadn’t the foggiest what she was talking about. “What’s all tha’ about then?”

I rattled my brain trying to think about what she was talking about. Then it clicked; the things that gave me a damn scar! “Oh shit, yeah. The laser rifles, they’re some weapons and a half, right?” I was sure I was on the same lines as her but her expression never changed; she just looked at me with a straight face.

“They are nice...” She started, rubbing her hoof along one of the crates as a distraction. “But I’m talkin’ summin’ ponies’d kill for.” Wouldn’t they kill for a laser rifle? A three beam shooting damn laser rifle? Well, if it’s not them then it must be something extremely proficient. I couldn’t guess though. All I could do was plead Dawn to tell me with a shake of my head. Her answer was spoken slowly, almost seductively. “Pip-Bucks.”

“Pipbucks?! Where did they come from?!” I couldn’t think properly, this was magnificent, but at the same time a disaster. If the Steel Rangers realised we had our hands on these... By Celestia we would be doomed.

She almost seemed surprised at my lack of knowledge about the Pipbucks. “I can’t say, all I know is Tick’s got’m now.” She knew I’d be off that moment, so she turned back to her crates and began levitating them onto a cart.

I sped away and returned to the centre of the camp, where I saw Dusk outside the ruin where I had slept. The pain was back, so before interrogating Tick I headed over to Dusk to ask for some painkillers.

“Dusk!” I limped over with speed, to the point where I lifted up my pained leg and hopped on three. “You got any painkillers? I need to talk to Tick too, you know where he is?”

Before he could answer a pony roared behind me. I span around to see Snake standing in the open ground, all eyes on him as he called out for Tick and Diame.

“Oi Hotshot!” He called. “Where are you?!”

Eventually Tick appeared alongside Diame, no doubt taking his time to frustrate Snake further. Snake laughed and positioned himself opposite Diame, sneering as he insulted her.

“If you’re going to be joining us, little bird, you better take off that armour. No need to play soldier anymore.” He taunted with a foul grin, yellow teeth decomposing within his jaw. I hate to say it but in a way he was right. Most of us wore thick, black woollen jackets we scavenged in surviving briefcases and wardrobes. Regardless, he was foolhardy to insult a Griffon so. ‘Little Bird’ was sure to get him killed.

His taunts somehow never gained a reaction from Diame. Tick however…

“What the fuck you talking to her like that for?” Tick said in his fast paced tone, squaring up to Snake even though he’s about a half a foot shorter. “She’s new and you think it’s ok to give her shit?” Snake couldn’t answer, so Tick turned to Diame and calmed himself, slowing down his tone.“Do you wanna change, or keep it on?”

The griffins green eyes narrowed. “I’m fine as I am.”

Tick pointed a hoof at Diame and swished his head back around. “You see?” He stepped back to Snake and eyed everypony watching, finishing with a cold stare at Snake. “I’ll be fucked if you talk to anyone in this business like that again.”

We all thought it had finished there, but no. Snake wanted more. “Why in Celestia’s fucking name is that hybrid permitted to wear plate armour?” He shouted to nopny in particular, though pointed a hoof at Diame.

I stepped in to simmer the situation, feeling like it was time to save his life once again. “Settle down Kingsnake. Bear in mind that Diame’s a mercenary trained to kill ponies like us. Ge-”

“Fuck off with your petty warnings you crippled bastard before I break off that rotted leg and smash your head in with it.” He jeered back, his eyes blazing in red. He spoke slowly, with anger and spite in his voice. I felt fucking intimidated for once in my life by Snake, so I backed away.

I mean; the fuck? When did he get like this? Never before had I seen Snake in this state.

I heard a soft chuckle from Diame’s direction. We all switched our attention onto the giggling Griffon. “He’s high on Rage.” She pointed out. “A shitload of Rage.” She added.

A thick glob of spit ricocheted off the ground beneath snake. “How the fuck would you know?”He growled, taking a step towards her.

“I make the stuff.” She answered calmly, though moving into a position to be ready for assault. Her body faced him, her wings protruded upwards and I’m pretty sure everpony watching took a few steps back.

Diame’s statement was music to Hotshot’s ears. “You make Rage too?” Diame nodded. “Somepony get me a drink!” he ordered to the small crowd of ponies now gathered.

We needed a good company. About twenty ponies in total travelled with us at one time. We had small groups in different settlements, finding potential buyers and relaying our glorious reputation to all those bothered enough to listen.

One pony, Clubs, a red earth pony with muscles nearly bursting the seams of his coat fished out a bottle of apple cider and threw it to Hotshot. “Always fucking apple…” I heard him whisper.

None of us knew what his plan was. Even I couldn't guess.

“Listen Snake,” he said bitterly, approaching him in a relaxed walk “you wanna apologise to my friend and Diame for your slang?” He said that last word with sarcastic emphasis. Tick wrapped his leg around Snakes neck and gave him a friendly shake. “You didn’t mean all that did you? Nahh, you’re a good guy. You make me money. I need people who make me money. They’re necessary, y’know?” I saw Tick’s face grow dark. “Fortunately for the group, we got two people making Rage. That means, you’re now a liberty, not an asset, and that means you ain’t making me money your worth anymore.”

I wish I could tell you Snake shit himself there and then. He nearly did. A wave of panic rattled his bones, and his eyes darted from Tick to me, to the Griffon, to Tick. The last thing he heard was Tick muttering in disbelief: “You called my friend a cripple?”

Suddenly half of the cider bottle laid smashed onto a large rock and Hotshot jabbed the sharp glass repeatedly into Snake’s neck, cursing as he did so. “You think you Tough?! Huh?! You stupid mother fuck you.” Blood spurted onto Tick’s brown coat, soaking him in a thick red mess. Anger flushed over Tick’s face. Moments later the bottle had become too slippery for him to hold onto so he began stomping on Snake’s head, a sharp *crack* with each kick. His curses became inaudible over his heavy breaths.

We all gasped in unison. By the time Tick was done Snake’s head was nothing more than a mess of crushed bone and torn skin. Tick stood there huffing and puffing still ready to deliver more punishment. In the end he looked around at everypony watching, the blood dripping from his jacket and face. “Whatta you looking at? Get back to packing the fuck up!” He barked.

Dusk lit me a cigarette. “Well, feel free to have a chat with him now. He doesn’t seem too busy.”

“Aren’t you a funny guy all of a sudden, Dusk.”