Fallout: Equestria: Written in Sand

Chapter Six: One Way or the Other

I was lost.

It was less than an hour after I'd left the factory, and I'd completely lost my bearings. I'd been trying to pick my way south over the ruins towards this Terminal place the mercs had told me about, but as I continued onwards, the debris began to spill out from the boundaries of the ruined buildings and into the streets. Several times, I was forced to turn back and circle around a dangerously unstable or just plain impassable patch of rubble.

I finally lost patience as the only clear path turned me westwards once more and cut through a row of houses, having to scale the rubble up to a second storey window to gain access. I knew that I had made a mistake when I clambered over the sill and landed on floorboards that made an unnerving splintering sound under my weight. I inched my way through to the rear of the building, which had simply fallen away into the back yard in a heaped mess of bricks and pre-war furniture.

From my precarious vantage point at the summit of the rubble slope, I could see over the fence that bordered the yard and into the artificial trench that had been cut through the ground beyond it. The mangled remains of dozens of pre-war vehicles, large and small, filled the trench, creating a moat of jagged, blackened metal. I clicked my tongue in irritation and looked up and down the trench, which stretched out of sight in both directions. There, in the distance to my right: a bridge.

I took one step down the slope-

“Ow.”

I shook my head and groaned, listening to the sounds of brick and rotten timber crashing over each other dying away.

Fortunately, my tumble had been arrested by something made of smooth metal which was jutting out of the rubble. I cautiously raised myself up and looked at it. A refrigerator. Scuffed and tarnished, but intact. I dug it out of the rubble partially, enough to get the door open.

The stench ofvery rotten food washed over me, making me gag. The contents had been long-reduced to unidentifiable mush seeping out of its faded packaging, except for a single bottle lying on the top shelf.

“Sparkle-Cola? Don't mind if I do,” I muttered to myself, braving the miasma of decayed pre-war food to snag the bottle. I shut the door, twisted around and leant back against it, wary of the slight shifting of the rubble beneath me. I snapped the cap off the bottle, careful to stow it safely in my saddlebag, and took a cautious swig of the Cola.

Delicious.

I chugged almost the entire bottle, savouring the sweet taste despite the lukewarm temperature, then looked around to see if Splinter would like-

Oh. Right.

I rolled my eyes and smacked myself across the face. “Moron,” I muttered as I polished off the Cola and casually tossed it over the fence and into the trench, smirking at the sound of it shattering against one of the wagons. Small pleasures, and all that.

I successfully navigated the rest of the slope and started fence-hopping my way down the row of back yards towards the bridge. After a while, fence-hopping became fence-clambering-and-panting-and-swearing, which, in turn, became fence-smashing in very short order. By the time I was halfway down the row, fences were in a close third place to robots and dust in my list of nemeses.

As I reached the last fence before the bridge and turned to buck it down, my ears pricked up at the sound of clopping hooves coming from the far side. I turned back to the fence and sidled along it, searching for a gap I could peer through, until I reached the gate set into it and pulled it open. Then I sighed and slapped myself across the face. Thank you, mysterious noise-making ponies, for saving me from looking even stupider then I must do already.

There was nothing visible through the sliver of space between gate and fence, apart from yet another sand-dusted street, littered with yet more pre-war wagons, with yet more ruinous houses arrayed in a row beyond it, but I could still hear the clopping of hooves. I strained my ears. They didn't sound right; as if somepony was having trouble with putting one hoof in front of the other. Every so often, the hoofsteps would falter, followed by a rapid clopping of somepony stumbling.

As I edged out through the gate to get a better look, a rumbling sound made me look to the right. A familiar, three-legged silhouette was approaching. The bot was scarred and dented from bullet impacts, but it wasn't acting any worse for wear. I ducked back through the gate as it approached.

“Threat re-acquired. Engaging,” the bot announced as it drew to a halt barely twenty yards away and raised the minigun on its right arm.

Somepony cried out from atop the ramp that led up to the bridge just before the low buzz of the minigun filled the air, punctuated by the clattering of bullet casings on tarmac. Amongst the barrage of sound, somepony howled in pain. Several shots were fired back at the bot from the bridge, sparking off the armoured hull.

I plucked my last pulse grenade from its place in my saddlebag as I kicked the gate open. I carefully gauged the distance, weighing the grenade in one hoof, before ripping the pin out with my teeth and tossing the grenade at the bot. I let out a bark of laughter as the grenade bounced off the bot's hull with a clang. The bot ceased firing and rotated in place towards me. I ducked back behind the fence as the bot announced,“Secondary threat identified. Engaging-”

The grenade went off, the crackling explosion of lightning silencing the bot's voice. I stepped through the gate and casually trotted up to the stricken machine. It was twitching in place, its various limbs unresponsive.

“Warning… W- War- Nin- Ing-”

I spun around and bucked the bot square in its midsection. It toppled to the ground with a crash, the chestplate buckled under my hooves. After a few moments of further twitching, it seized up and fell silent.

I grunted in satisfaction. “One more for the junkheap,” I sneered.

Whoever the bot had been shooting at had fallen silent. No shouting or shooting. That meant either dead or not inclined to killing me on the spot. Either was fine by me.

It was one of each, I discovered when I trotted up the ramp.

A familiar pony in green combat armour was hunched over a similarly-clad figure that was sprawled on the tarmac. Well, they would have been similar if the latter wasn't coated in his own blood. One of the collapsed stallion's forelegs had been almost completely sheared off, only a few tattered strands of ragged flesh connecting the severed hoof to the knee. The chestplate of his armour had been pummelled with enough bullets to leave the surface more pockmarks and cracks than anything.

Purple Mane… Whatserface… Paramount was resting her forehooves on Hardwire's chest, trying to keep a healing bandage in place over the series of bullet holes even as the gushing wounds reduced the bandage to a sodden rag. “Come on,” she said, her voice trembling. “Come on. Don't you die on me…”

It was a bit late for that, I thought. The amount of blood staining the ground was evidence enough, even if she could somehow re-attach the stallion's leg.

Paramount lifted one hoof and pressed it to Hardwire's neck. “No, no, no, no,no!” she said, her voice rising in desperation. Her horn lit up and another healing bandage flew out of one of the pouches on her armour and was hurriedly slapped across Hardwire's chest. As she clapped her forehooves across the bandage, it slid off the stallion's blood-slicked armour and she fell across the body. For a moment, she remained still, hunched awkwardly over Hardwire's corpse. Suddenly she cried out and slammed a forehoof into Hardwire's chest, thumping against the armour plating.

“Damn it!” she sobbed, burying her face in the crook of her other foreleg. “Damn it…”

I turned and walked away. My shrewd instincts told me that she probably wouldn't be in the mood to give directions any time soon. I trotted back to the bot I'd disabled. After a bit of work, I tore one of the panels off and ripped out the bot's spark battery to add to my collection. I aimlessly toyed with some of the other electronics for a while. I was in no hurry to try and hold a conversation with an emotional mare. Eventually, I sighed and tossed the wiring I'd been tying into knots aside and walked back up to the bridge.

As I reached her, Paramount was floating various items out of the pouches on Hardwire's armour and was either replacing them or stowing them on her person. She glanced up at me as I approached. Her rifle, set down on the ground beside her, briefly glowed with magic before she relaxed. She tried to smile while rubbing at her tearful eyes. “Hey there,” she said hoarsely. “Thanks for- Oh, it's you… Killjoy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for your help.”

I shrugged. “What happened to you?” I asked.

“What does it look like?” she replied harshly. She went back to rooting through Hardwire's belongings for a moment, then she sighed. “Sorry, that wasn't fair,” she said without looking up. “I just- I don't want to talk about it. You can see what the result is, anyway,” she added bitterly.

I nodded. Add another three to the Wasteland's toll.

“You're on your way to Terminal?” Paramount asked as she started stripping the ammo out of Hardwire's machine gun.

“Was. I kept getting turned around.”

Paramount let slip a short chuckle. “Lucky for me, I guess,” she said. She stood up, her eyes not leaving Hardwire's corpse. She reached out a hoof and gently tipped his helmet back from its skewed position, revealing his blank, staring eyes that she eased shut. She briefly rested her hoof on his forehead. I didn't quite hear the words she whispered to herself.

“Come on,” she said, turning away to walk across the bridge. “It's not far; we can make it before they seal up for the night.”

We walked on in silence. Paramount kept her head low, staring blankly at the ground just in front of her forehooves, only briefly raising her head to take a quick look at the surroundings every so often.  It was a refreshing change of pace; I'd swear my ears were still buzzing from all the talking Ma had put me through yesterday.

“Where's your timberwolf?”

I glanced at Paramount. She had finally raised her head long enough to look around and notice Splinter's absence. “Dead,” I grunted.

“Oh.” She fell silent for a moment, then said. “I'm sorry.”

I shrugged.

Before we had gone ten yards, she asked, “What happened?”

“Bot got him. Dumb animal thought he could bite through metal.”

“You don't seem very upset about it.” Now the look she was giving me was almost suspicious.

“It was just a stupid animal,” I said dismissively. “No point getting upset.”

She looked away from me, instead scanning a row of ruined houses over to our right. “I always thought most ponies got attached to their pets.”

“He wasn't really a pet,” I said. “I only had him for a few days.”

Paramount fell silent. “Fair enough,” she said eventually.

As we walked the squat, ruined houses were replaced by towering concrete monoliths, their immense windows long reduced to mere holes that allowed sight into their gutted interiors where the floors had fallen through in a tangle of broken girders. They could have originally reached to the clouds for all I knew, but the top floors had simply crumbled away over the years, leaving just the jagged metal frameworks reaching to the sky. In places, they rose above a few stories, forcing us to pass through artificial canyons, walled by their skeletal remains and carpeted by the dust and fragments they had shed.

“So…” Paramount said awkwardly as we skirted a pre-war wagon that had been crushed beneath a fallen slab of concrete. The word hung in the air between us for a while before she asked, “Where do you come from?”

“None of your business.”

Paramount sighed. “I'm just trying to make conversation,” she said reproachfully.

“Well, don't.”

“Have I done something to offend you?” Paramount asked.

“No. I just don't want to talk.”

“Why not?”

“Whynot not?”

“I'm just being polite,” Paramount grumbled.

“Whatever.”

She fell silent again.

I made sure to avoid looking in her direction for a while, so as not to provoke further conversation. I didn't have a good feeling about telling this mare anything about my past. I remembered how she'd reacted to Big Ears.

'My past'… When had last week week become another lifetime?

“Does that pipbuck of yours work?”

“No,” I said through gritted teeth, “I wear it to make myself look pretty. What do you think?” I held the device up, turning it this way and that. “Lovely, isn't it?”

Paramount sighed. “I've met ponies who have broken pipbucks stuck to their legs, okay? They're nearly impossible to remove without the proper tools.”

I let out a snort of laughter. “Morons.”

“It's not their fault,” she said. “Anyway, do you mind turning the radio on?”

I rolled my eyes. “If you want to attract every raider for miles around, you can just jump up and down and scream for a bit. Give me a chance to put some distance between us first, though; I've done enough dying for this week.”

“No raiders in Haythorne.” Paramount said smugly.

I thought of my encounter with Big Ears and his gang. “Oh really-?”

“Not many, anyway,” she corrected herself hurriedly. “Barely anypony here to raidfrom. Just the ponies at Terminal, and they're well-fortified.”

“What about bots?” I said. “Remember those? How about zombies?”

“Ghouls.”

“Bless you.”

“I mean, you shouldn't call them 'zombies',” Paramount said coolly.

“What-the-fuck-ever,” I said, rolling my eyes. I'm not turning it on.”

“Please?” she said. “If you do, I'll stop trying to talk to you,” she added temptingly.

“Well, if you put it like that …” I said, trying to sound begrudging while inwardly sighing with relief. I fiddled with the pipbuck's controls, selecting the only radio station displayed: Desert Wind Radio. A stallion's crooning voice started emanating from the tinny speaker, accompanied by the twanging of an out-of-tune guitar.

“Now, twenty caps'll buy me a kiss from any mare,

But nopony knows just what it's worth to me to feel your stare.

“And I don't know how much I'd pay to take you home tonight,

But I'll bet there's a cap for every colt who'd love to earn that right …”

The sickeningly cheery tone of the song clashed horribly with the drabness of the landscape it reverberated off, the echoes coming back so faint and dulled that they seemed aware of the fact and were deeply ashamed of themselves.

The music finally faded out and the station's host began speaking.

“This is Desert Wind Radio; the San Palomino's finest radio station. And I ain't saying that just 'cause we're the**only radio station!”

I'd forgotten how irritating this stallion was.

“News! News! I come direct to your ears, bearing the gift of news, folks! So pin those ears back and listen!

“Aaand, my first news is bad news. Isn't that just typical? Reports from an anonymous source out of Crystal Canyon say that production at the glassworks isway down, with no explanation forthcoming from the town authorities. In possibly related news, our old buddies the Order have been sighted poking around town. Now I'm not the type to say 'sabotage'… but I just did.”

I tuned out as the host kept talking about things that didn't interest me. It seemed to interest Paramount, at least. Enough that she didn't keep trying to force conversation.

“… And one last note, for anyone abroad in the vicinity of Sand's Edge: just this morning, I got a tip from an anonymous source about a raider on the loose in the area, committed a few murders, thefts, yadda yadda yadda. Yeah, you heard me right.A raider. Singular. Now, you might be thinking that's nothing special, but this pony attacked a pair of rangers and came out on top.”

I tuned back in.

“Now, I know some of you folks don't hold much love for our, uh, Ranger-ing friends, but you can't deny that a raider that can tangle with 'em and come out smiling is something to worry about. The description I got was, uh, a little sketchy, but the words 'big as a house' were used, so he can't be easy to miss, and he was in possession of a pipbuck and how many of those do you see? Also: this pony's got himself some kind of magical creature as a sidekick. Big teeth, glowing eyes, made of – and this better not be a joke, anonymous source – trees. Now, I've not heard of …”

“What!?” I exclaimed, holding up the pipbuck to glare at it as the host tried to crack a joke evenhe should have been ashamed of. I smacked my hoof against the casing. “You fucking liar!”

“Good idea,” I heard Paramount say. “I'm sure being a moron with a broken pipbuck stuck to his leg will sort that out for you.” I snarled at her as the host kept talking.

“… Anyone up for a spot of bounty hunting, be aware that there is a one hundred and fifty cap bounty on this pony's head, payment on delivery to the usual drop-off. Although you might wanna hold off on following through until I get a better description. And until anony-source sends their caps through. Hint, hint.”

A bounty. On me.

Well, shit.

“And that about wraps it up for the news! As for the weather: Cloudy, dusty and hot-ty with a chance of radiation. Forever. And now-”

I growled and turned the radio off.

So, I was going to have bounty hunters after me.

Let 'em come.

“Is that true?”

I turned to Paramount. She had taken a step away from me and was standing very still, watching me intently. “No. It isn't,” I said.

“It definitelysounded like you,” she said warily. “Who did you kill?”

I snorted. “Nopony that didn't have it coming.”

“And what do you define as 'had it coming'?” Paramount said coldly.

I narrowed my eyes and hunkered down slightly, ready to spring if she tried anything. “Why are you even asking? You obviously think you need to shoot me.” I snarled threateningly. “Go ahead. Try it. I dare you.”

“And if they'd described me instead, you would have been totally fine with it, I suppose,” she replied sarcastically. “Relax, okay? Just let me hear your side first.”

I cocked my head to the side and eyed her suspiciously before saying, “I only arrived in this fucking desert yesterday. The only ponies I've killed since then attacked me first.”

'Just don't ask about before then.'

“And the rangers? Did you attack them?”

“They attackedme and I beat the shit out of them,” I said. smirking. “I guess I hurt somepony's feelings.”

There was a short pause before Paramount nodded. “That'd cover it,” she said. “I've heard of rangers doing worse. Come on, let's keep moving.” She set off again. The suddenness of her acceptance caught me off-guard and I was left trotting to catch up.

“That's it?” I asked as I drew level with her.

“That's it,” she said briskly. “Why?” she added. “Were you lying? Do you want me to kneecap you and demand the truth?”

“Well… no.”

“So stop complaining.”

“I wasn'tcomplaining,” I scoffed. “You're just a bit quick to give the benefit of the doubt.”

“Everypony knows the Rangers pay off DWR,” Paramount explained disgustedly. “And everypony knows the Rangers are scum. Two and two make four. Frankly, I wouldn't be too bothered if youhad attacked those rangers.”

“Wish I had,” I muttered.

“Besides, no ranger ever saved me from a crazy robot,” she added. “So you started out ahead, anyway.”

“Good to know.”

I thought about the bounty some more. One hundred and fifty caps. I felt insulted. I was worth a lot more than that. Well, maybe they'd get the message when I'd killed the first few idiots who came after me. Then again, maybe it would be better if nopony was after me at all. “This radio station,” I said to Paramount, tapping my pipbuck, “where is it?”

“DWR? Far to the south. Other side of the Mountain,” she replied. “Why? Do you think you can just walk in and ask them to stop broadcasting your bounty?”

“No. I was thinking I'd fight my way in andforce them to stop broadcasting,” I said.

“Good luck,” Paramount said, shaking her head. “The place is like a fortress, and the Rangers keep a close eye on it. Trust me, it's not worth it. They'll forget about you soon enough.”

I gave that some thought. I preferred my original plan… but laying low until the heat was off would be more prudent. Then I could take that braying idiot by surprise. I gave the new prompt that popped up in my E.F.S. a cursory glance. Then I stared at it.

Visit Desert Wind Radio and feed that braying idiot his microphone.

“That's more like it,” I muttered, tapping my pipbuck encouragingly.

“What was that?” I looked over at Paramount as she gave me a double-take. “Wait, are you… talking to your pipbuck?”

I scowled at her. “Well, if it's talk toit or talk toyou…”

“Charming.”

A shadow fell across us as we passed beneath an archway created by the tower to our right slumping over the street, propped up against the building opposite.

“So… you only came to the Palomino yesterday?” Paramount asked.

“I thought you were gonna stop trying to talk to me,” I said.

“That was when you had the radio turned on.”

I sighed. “Yes,” I said begrudgingly. “I arrived here yesterday. What of it?”

“Where did you come from?”

“Heartlands. Around New Appleloosa.”

Paramount frowned. “I think I've heard that name before… What's it like up there?”

“Raiders, radiation, zombies, more raiders, not enough food or water.” I shrugged. “It's Wasteland, what do you expect?”

“I dunno, just… Well, it can't beexactly the same, surely?”

“Why shouldn't it be? There's just grass instead of sand and trees instead of… more sand. And fewer assholes in stupid coats putting bounties on you,” I added sourly.

“I guess that's true,” Paramount sighed. “So what made you come all the way out here?”

I pointedly looked away from her. “I don't want to talk about it,” I said, adding the most ominous tone that I could summon to try and make her drop the subject.

“I'm sorry,” Paramount said after a short pause. Success. “I didn't mean-” She cut herself off as she stopped in her tracks.

“What?” I asked.

“Shh!” Paramount hissed, holding up a hoof. “Did you hear that?”

I cocked my head and listened. “I don't hear anything,” I muttered.

“I did.” Paramount levitated her rifle off her saddle and trotted over to an open doorway in one of the buildings to our left. “Come on,” she called over her shoulder as she slipped through the doorway, rifle raised.

I sighed and followed her. Always humour a paranoid with an assault rifle, that was my motto. Especially if the paranoid was your only guide around a ruined pre-war town. It was a very specific motto, but I stood by it.

The décor beyond the doorway was gratingly similar to the bot-infested factory I'd endured earlier. I scrutinised the carpet closely before deciding that, yes, itwas the same. Then, as if even pre-war architecture was conspiring to inflict me with déjà vu, I followed Paramount through a doorway and into a large room of partitioned office space.

A gunshot rang out.

I ducked reflexively, shooting a look around. As the echoes faded, a distant voice cried out over a muffled howl of agony.

“Consider this a warning to the rest of you!”

“Come on!” Paramount hissed urgently. Without even looking to check that I was following, she moved as quickly as she could while remaining silent towards the windows on the far side of the room. As I joined her, she cautiously raised her head to look over the sill. I mimicked her.

The window looked out onto a square, an expanse of open space surrounded by gutted towers. Pre-war, the square had contained a majestic fountain, surrounded by lovingly-crafted gardens. Now, there was only bare earth and broken concrete. The statues of a number of ponies that had topped the fountain had been smashed and lay in fragments around its base.

In the shadow of the fountain was a group of a dozen or so ponies. Several of them were clustered together, cowering away from the rest, who were brandishing weapons. Between them and us, a unicorn was stood with his forehoof pressing the head of another pony who was slumped beneath him to the ground.

“Slavers,” Paramount whispered in disgust. I grunted in response. She ducked back below the window sill. “Okay,” she said, turning to me. “We need a plan.”

“What?”

“A plan,” she repeated. “Unless you want to just run out there and hope for the best.”

Shehad to be joking.

“There’s… seven of them and two of us,” I said, risking a glance through the window to check.

“Two of usand the element of surprise plus good cover,” she corrected me.

I cocked my head at her. Was she being deliberately dense? I couldn’t tell. Her expression was serious, but the words 'outnumbered by three-to-one' weren't something any sane pony ignored.

“Right,” I said dubiously. “Okay. Here’s my plan: you stay here and get yourself killed. I’ll walk away and live. Sound good?”

“What?” she hissed, struggling to keep her voice down. She gestured angrily in the direction of the slaves. “We can’t just walk away from this!”

She was serious. Serious and crazy.

“Yes we can,” I said flatly. “It’s easy: just put one hoof in front of the other inthat” – I gestured over my shoulder – “direction.” Paramount snarled at me, her grim expression contorting into outright anger.

“If you,” she said icily, gesturing out over the square, “were one of those ponies out there, you would want somepony to help you.”

“Well, I'mnot of those idiots out there,” I said bluntly. “And I don't want to be, which is why I'm leaving.” I turned away, but Paramount grabbed me by the shoulder. I slapped her hoof away. “Get the fuck off-!”

“How can you be so callous!?” Paramount snapped.

“Keep your voice down!” I hissed at her. “You want to die? Go ahead and shoot yourself, but don’t drag me into this-”

“Those ponies are worse thandead if we don't do something!”

“Not my fucking problem!” I said, shoving Paramount away. “You're not getting me killed like you did your idiot friends!”

I walked away, quite content to leave a crazy mare to become a victim of her do-gooder suicide mission.

Until my hindlegs were snapped out from beneath me. I fell down, my foreleg twisted painfully beneath me. I jumped up and lashed out with my hindhooves, hitting only air. I was rewarded with a shove that knocked me onto my side. I twisted around, reaching a hoof for my lance-

And froze when a gun was shoved into my face.

The muzzle of Paramount’s rifle was hovering barely two inches from my right eye. The right hemisphere of my vision was dominated by the dark hole and the merest hint of a glint of light coming off the chambered round at the far end.

Suddenly, I was back on the floor of that wagon, with a murderous pegasus looming over me with twin barrels of lead-spitting death poised to take my life.

I scrambled back, trying to get away from the rifle, but it followed me, bobbing in its telekinetic field until I hit the wall of the cubicle behind me. I pushed myself back against it, willing the wall to give way and bury me. Anything to get away from that dark hole in my world that would spell the end of it.

Around the edges of the gun barrel, I saw Paramount stalking towards me, following the rifle she was holding. “You son of abitch,” she spat as she came to a halt, looming over me. She crouched down in front of me, placing her head alongside her rifle to glare into my left eye.

“I amsick,” she spat, “of ponies likeyou. Ponies who won’t lift a hoof to save anypony’s hide but their own.”

So, she wanted to talk? Good. Talk. I mentally ran through my cause of action: knock the rifle away with my right hoof, lunge forward and headbutt, follow up with anything that made this bitch die.

I must have tensed or something, because before I had a chance to make my move, the rifle’s cocking handle was snapped back and forth in a rapid motion. A single cartridge was flung out of the chamber and was snatched up in its own magical field, spinning in the air to point directly at my face. I flinched at the metallic clicking, banging my head against the wall. I tried to push myself back upright, but fell back down as my trembling foreleg collapsed under me.

“You are going to help me do this,” I heard Paramount say grimly. “Or Celestia help me, I’ll shoot you. Right here. Right now.”

I shifted my head sideways, trying to escape the soulless gaze of the rifle muzzle, but it followed me, jabbing me under the eye. I flinched again. I caught Paramount’s eye.

I quickly wished I hadn’t.

She wasn’t angry.Wasn’t angry. That was what I remembered. I’ve seen angry,been angry. And I saw then something above and beyond whatever petty emotions I’d ever experienced. Her expression was grim. Cold. She wasn’t threatening me – just setting out my future for me, which she had decided forked in precisely two directions, one of which ended with a single bullet through my head. I doubted I would survive it a second time.

“Time’s up. Yes or no.”

Red eyes. I hadn't noticed that before now. Bright fucking red eyes.

“Alright, alright!” I mentally bucked myself for letting a slight tremor enter my voice. “I’ll fucking do it, just get that fucking thing away from me!”

She took a few steps back before lifting the rifle away from my face. I drew in a shuddering breath.

'Bitch.'

I watched warily as Paramount detached the magazine from her rifle, slipped the ejected round into it, then reattached the mag. All the while, she calmly returned my stare.  “Go out the back, then move along a couple of buildings in that direction,” she said, jerking her head up the street. “When I start shooting, wait until they’re distracted, then charge in from their flank. Got it?”

I picked myself up slowly, my heart hammering in my chest. “Yeah. Sure.”

Paramount turned back to the front of the building, crouching down as she made her way back to the window to look outwards. I looked at the way we’d come in, then back at Paramount. I backed away, not taking my eyes off her until I'd put a wall between us.

I snarled to myself as I walked back down the corridor we'd entered through. That bitch was going to pay for this. As I exited the building, I stumbled as my left foreleg gave way under me. I glared down at it, narrowing my eyes at the way it was still trembling slightly. I stamped it on the ground heavily as I moved off again.

I picked a door at random and made my way through the dilapidated rooms to the front of the building. I peeked through the broken window that overlooked the square. The unicorn that had been crushing one of the slaves' heads into the ground was dragging her towards the rest of the captives by her mane.

I didn’t have to do a damn thing, I realised as I watched the unicorn throw the pony he was dragging to the ground. Just sit back and let the slavers rip Paramount to shreds, then carry on my merry way. No fuss, no trouble.

A trio of gunshots rang out from where I knew Paramount to be secreted. I risked a glance around the edge of the window.

The unicorn slaver was down, with a pair of holes punched through his side. The other slavers, caught by surprise, looked around in panic, drawing their weapons. Another burst of gunfire. Another slaver went down, a bloody hole ripped through her jugular. One of the remaining slavers pointed and yelled. The others turned in the direction she was indicating and started firing their weapons wildly. Three of them hung back, ducking behind what cover they could find, while the other two charged towards where Paramount was hiding. As I watched them gallop across the open ground, one took a bullet through the eye and they fell, tumbling head-over-hoof until they came to rest.

Fuck it. I was no coward. And if anypony was going to kill that red-eyed bitch, it was going to be me.

I drew my lance, vaulted through the broken window and galloped across the open ground. The nearest slaver was frantically reloading her weapon when she spotted me bearing down on her. She dropped the sub-machine gun and magazine she was holding and went to draw a pistol holstered on her vest, stumbling backwards away from me. As the weapon came up, I reached her and swung my lance in a downward slice. The blade buried itself in the slaver's shoulder, the impact heavy enough to buckle her knees and stagger her. Her pistol went off, the bullet flying past my leg and ricochetting harmlessly off the ground behind me.

I planted my forehoof on the lance's shaft and pushed downwards while pulling the slaver towards me. She fell to the ground, sprawled at my hooves, the pistol falling from her mouth. I ripped my lance out of her shoulder, reared up and stamped down on the slaver's head. One down.

As I turned, an impact on the shoulder pad of my armour staggered me. I growled and snapped my head from side to side, searching for the shooter. A rifle, held aloft in a telekinetic field, popped up from behind a large chunk of one of the fallen statues. It fired as I jumped aside, the bullet flying past me.

I charged forward and leapt up onto the rubble. The rifle was thrust towards my face by the cowering unicorn beneath me. With a swing of my lance, I batted the rifle aside, knocking it clear of the levitation field before he could pull the trigger. I stabbed downwards with my lance. The unicorn barely knocked the thrust aside with his hoof, crying out as the blade ripped through his skin and the point tore through his shoulder. As I went to withdraw my lance, he grasped the end of the shaft in his teeth and tried to pull it away from me, adding his magic to the tug-of-war when I almost lifted him clear off the ground.

We struggled for a moment, then I shrugged and let go. He fell back against the floor, spinning the lance around to point at me. I interrupted him before he could do anything more with a burst from my SMG that spread his brains across the paving stones.

My lance clattered to the ground. I raised my head and looked around for- …

“Stop! Stop there, you bastard!”

… the last slaver.

I looked around. The final slaver had dodged behind the line of terrified slave-ponies. She had dragged one of them up from where they’d dived to the ground at the beginning of the fight and was hiding behind her, pressing the shotgun in her mouth to the mare’s neck.

“Coward!” I called out as best I could around the grip in my mouth. I hopped down from the rubble I was stood on and started edging towards the slaver, the sights on my SMG wavering over the slave's terrified face.

“Drop the gun! Fucking drop it!” the slaver screamed.

I rolled my eyes and kept walking forwards, edging around to the side to get a clear shot.

“Stay back! Stay the fuck back!” the slaver screeched. The slave she had hostage cried out as the raider pressed the barrel of her shotgun harder into her neck. “I’ll fucking kill her! I fucking mean it!”

“Fuck you!” I shouted around the weapon in my mouth.

I stopped my advance. The slaver stuck her head out from behind the slave-pony.

“Last chance! I’ll-”

I triggered S.A.T.S..

The world slowed down. The Eyes-Forward Sparkle lit up, a slew of new numbers and diagrams popping into existence. I tuned most of them out, focusing on the figures floating around the respective heads of the slaver and her hostage. I leaned to the side, sighting down the top of my SMG, watching the numbers as they flickered through the sixties, into the seventies...

I pulled the trigger.

Three bullets sped across the intervening space. The first clipped the slaver’s shotgun and ricochetted off, jarring the weapon from her grip. The second flew harmlessly past her neck. The third ripped through the side of her face in a bloody spray. The slaver stumbled backwards, screeching in pain. The slave she had been holding dropped to the ground in a quivering heap.

The targeting spell ran out as I dropped my gun and galloped forward. I hurdled the cowering slave just as the slaver finished spitting out the tattered remnants of her cheek. She reared up as I reached her, swiping her hooves at my head. I shrugged off a blow to my shoulder and batted aside her other hoof before driving my own into her chest. She turned her resulting stumble into a pirouette, lashing out with her hindhooves. I dodged the clumsy attack and threw myself on top of her, slamming her into the ground. She kicked and struggled, unable to stop me as I stamped down on her back.

I reached one hoof to my saddlebag and rummaged through it, pressing the slaver into the ground with my other hoof. I grunted as something sharp nicked my skin. I plucked the knife out of the bag and casually tossed it upwards, caught it between my teeth and plunged it into the slaver's neck. The slaver screamed, thrashing and swearing at me as I twisted the blade. I grinned around the handle as she started to go limp.

“Fuck you,” the slaver coughed weakly. She cried out as I ripped the knife out of her flesh and stuffed it back in my saddlebag. “When Red Eye-”

“Yeah, fuck you too,” I said flippantly, slamming my forehooves into the back of her head. Her skull cracked on the ground and lolled to the side.

Uncovering the grenade she’d just armed.

I barely managed to push myself backwards and turn side-on to the explosion went it came. The slaver’s body shielded me from the worst of the blast. Even so, I felt shrapnel punch through my barding and into my flesh in a dozen white-hot needles of pain. A fiery hindhoof of spite bucked me square in the flank and I was thrown aside and blacked out as I hit the ground.

Progress to next level: 29%