T.R.O.T.T.E.R. Shadow of Cheernobyl

Daylight.

Komodo was ready to leave. He mumbled his goodbyes to Barkeep and grabbed his hoofgun and headed out into the dawn. The power of Celestia's sunlight filtered down through the clouds, turning a sickly color in the dewy morning fog.

The walk down the Lonesome Road - the old Highway 16 that once ran all the way to Ponyiat - presented Komodo with no problems. Though it was a main artery of traffic in the southern Zone, he seemed to be the only one out and about as this hour.

That would probably change once he came to the sprawl of radioactive junk mountains and vehicle graves collectively known as the Garbage. There were always a few ponies around the place, mostly lone scavengers poking about for a low-value artifact in the anomalies which bred like flies on the ionized scrap heaps. The area had been home to a sizable bandit operation once, but the changing power balance after the Zone's last fit of tremors years ago and Duty's establishment of a fortified checkpoint where the road continued north had marginalized their influence.

Komodo, for his own part, didn't expect the status quo to last. Rama - unlike his predecessor Yoga - had ambitions far beyond petty mugging and extortion, a defensible base in the gloomy reaches of the Dark Valley to the east and a growing corps of cutthroats and corsairs who seemed eager to follow his lead. Duty theoretically had enough trotters and enough supplies to give the mafioso a solid thrashing, but they couldn't let go of their obsession with exterminating Freedom long enough to make good on that potential.

Sooner or later the situation would boil over... but until then, ordinary ponies like Komodo and his family were the ones feeling the pressure. For now, day-to-day considerations like keeping food on the table prevailed.

The sun continued to rise above the treeline as the colt wandered past the wrecked Bridle transports and ambled through one of the smaller vehicle yards, passing between rows of cargo trucks, fire trucks, buses. The airships brought back memories from his childhood, identical machines prowling over the dusty landscape of the western Zone hunting for his fellow trotters. Some of the sky chariots and wagons were marred further with the old skeletons of the poor ponies who were struck dead or mortally wounded by the Disaster, but whose bodies were not wiped from existence entirely.

In the midst of this scene Komodo noticed that he was heading in the direction of the road to the Cordon, though he had made no conscious decision to. It didn't matter. He was on the hunt for a story.

Something about Night Stalker had compelled his interest. The young colt couldn't put his hoof on it, but in order to sate his burning curiosity, he had to find Neo. And if he could learn where Night Stalker was in the process, even better.

...

"... Retarded or something? Cough it up or get out of here, trotter!"

Komodo was right about the bandits. Two of them had ambushed an older colt by the swampy area at the southern edge of the Garbage and were shaking him down, though apparently without much luck.

"I told you already," the exasperated pony was saying. "I've got nothing of value with me. If you want loot so badly, why don't you get a detector and go search for it like the rest of us?"

"Quiet, asshole!" The bandit doing the shakedown was a youngish pegasus in a drab windbreaker and tracksuit pants. A kid like himself, Komodo thought. "Bet ya gotta nice stash somewhere, eh? Lemme see yer PDA!"

"Fuck you, you parasite!"

"Wanna lose yer balls too?"

Komodo probably would have stepped in if the other bandit weren't pointing a battered submachine hoofgun to his head. That one looked older and wore a threadbare trench coat. "Cool it, brother," he advised. "Let's not start shooting before it's the right time."

"Gonna do worse if this dipshit don't cough up or get the fuck out soon...!"

He couldn't watch this anymore; he had to do something. "Excuse me?"

The Tracksuit Pants pony turned to find Komodo standing close by. "What... !" he sputtered. "Howja get there, eh?"

"I... walked here," The pony replied dryly. "Are you collecting road tolls?"

"We are as far as you're concerned kid," Trench Coat retorted warily. "You looking to contribute?"

Komodo briefly eyed the irate loner with the flared nose and the leather jacket. He carefully took out a bundle of bits; his entire pay for helping Barkeep the past two days. "Is this enough for the two of us?"

"It'll do," Trench Coat cut in quickly. "Toss it over."

When the trotter did so, the thief flipped through the bundle with his hoof before dropping it into a pocket. "On your way now," he ordered. "And no sudden moves."

Komodo placidly strolled past the bandits and resumed his walk to the Cordon. There came sounds of hustling and the older pony - a yellow pegasus - fell into step beside him.

"Thank you very much, young colt," the pegasus bowed. "Those flies cause trouble for everypony around here, don't you know? It's about damned time they got some trouble on their own plate. If I had my gun with me..."

"If you shot them, others would come after you." Komodo shook his head. "Rama would make sure of it." He turned around to leave.

"Hold on, take this!" The pegasus took out several loaves of warm bread and his own small pouch of bits, "It's the least I can do for a fine young samaritan like yourself."

Komodo looked away. "I don't know what to say... Thank you, sir."

...

Wolf hated surprises.

To be fair, he hated a lot of things – Celestia, bandits, warm soda, soldiers, and nerds all drew his ire reliably – but most of them simply ceased to matter at this point. Not so for surprises, however. It had been shaping up to be a really nice day, a quiet day when he could sit by the fire with the new generation and enjoy a drink in peace.

The pine-green earth pony was used to watching the youngsters take their first steps – the Disaster survivors hadn't established the Cordon just because they liked the scenery, after all. It was also where the Quarantine obstacles were thinnest, where young colts and fillies with nothing to lose but their chains crawled under barbed wire fences and through minefields in order to feed their families.

Not all of them returned each day, although the number of deaths had declined in recent months with the supply runners taking over logistics.

Ponies young and old wandered about their business, trading goods and sitting around. Fillies scurried to and fro, playing with the makeshift dolls and old balls they loved so much. The Cordon never slept; indeed, it was an organ of the Zone. It resembled a junk heap of old boxes, but none could deny its unique place in trotter society and lore. In a strange way, it had the same near-mythical status as the Bar or Ponyiat or Cheernobyl itself.

Today the sun was up, and two unknown ponies had been spotted. The two newcomers' only resemblance to the average supply runner was the dirt on their garments. The first was an old mare, a unicorn with silvery hair tied up in a bun and a face which reflected the trials and troubles of a long life. Her smudged coat didn't fit very well. The second was a younger pale-white pegasus with denim coveralls and a polymer hard hat thickly painted over in olive drab. She carried a large bag, an entrenching tool and a surplus military detector.

The trotter had to give the young mare credit; she looked better prepared than most. The old one, though... the Zone wasn't a place where that sort could survive.

Realizing that the two were making steady progress in his own direction, Wolf was suddenly stricken by an absurd desire to tidy up the camp, or at least hide away all the empty cans which had accumulated next to his favorite spot.

The one in the coveralls hailed him. "Hey, which way to Sid?"

She doesn't waste time. "Over there," the loner said aloud, pointing down the row of crumbling houses. "In the bunker by the graves."

"Thanks." The pair changed course, leaving Wolf to contemplate the cluster of youngsters around the fire with a little wariness. They'd witnessed everything, of course, and the new arrivals stirred their interest like an unclaimed Meat Chunk. Could he trust the kids to behave themselves? While the children murmured amongst themselves, the veteran in the camp quickly dumped his empty cans into a discarded milk crate, laid a couple of planks across it and sat down to observe them.

"Wolf." It was Sid, his rough voice coming from the radio on the trotter's belt. "Got something for you."

Wolf sighed. "I'm not looking for work right now."

"This one's easy – just escort a couple of pretty girls up to the camp across the rail line. You like pretty girls, don't you?"

Trust the fat old weasel to pull that one, he thought. "I'm married," Wolf growled. "What's it worth?"

"Standard rate."

"... Fine."

"That's more like it. Have fun."

Wolf just shook his head. He was such a pushover around girls, wasn't he? He put his thoughts aside as the mares reappeared. The young one was carrying a Windchester which Wolf recognized immediately, not that there were any other lever-action hoofrifles in the Zone to confuse it with. Rising, the loner collected his shorty AK and waved. "Ready to go?"

"Yes, please." The old mare smiled at Wolf, suddenly looking very much like his late mother in her last years. "Please forgive us for burdening you."

"It's okay," the loner answered gruffly. "Before we leave, I should fill you in on the hazards around – "

"No need," the pegasus cut in. "I talked to some ex-military folks on the outside. We know about the anomalies and mutants." She emphasized the point by digging a fistful of nuts and bolts out of her pocket.

Wolf shrugged. "If you say so." He turned away, motioning for the pair to follow, and led them out of the village. "I see that Sid gave you Mantis' shooter," he observed once they were in the clear, relieved that the weapon's new owner looked like she knew how to handle it. "How much did he charge?"

"Most of what I brought," the pegasus replied ambiguously. "Who's Mantis?"

"An old friend of mine, except that he got captured by Mareines not too long ago. He got away, but it changed him – it wasn't that he actually snapped, but he became totally single-minded about them... He'd actually learned ventriloquism somewhere, see, and what he'd do was, he'd set up fake campfires in narrow ravines or gutted buildings right next to the Quarantine."

A wild mutant dog paused to sniff in the trio's direction, then loped away.

"Then he'd hide close by, imitating conversations until some military patrol came over looking for easy prisoners... He did it all through that winter and pretty much drove the the Mareine squads out of the Hills for a while, until they got together and went after him in serious numbers." Spotting the telltale shimmer of a gravity anomaly, the guide reached for his bolt bag. "I hear it cost the bastards eight of their own, and he still made it back to the Cordon before bleeding out."

"Sounds like quite a guy," the Windchester-wielder remarked. "A Mantis, a Wolf and a Beaver. Interesting names... Oh, before I forget, I'm – "

"Don't say it." Wolf interrupted his bolt-throwing to raise a hoof. "Out here, two kinds of ponies use their names: fools and those who are so badass or well-connected that knowing their real identity can't hurt them. No offense, but you don't look like you're quite there yet."

"Well," said the old mare with dignity, "I don't think I have much cause to worry... But if you insist, Yili will have to do."

"Call me Willow," the younger one added.

The loner nodded. "Works for me." Three bolts' sacrifice showed him the way forward, and he moved on. "I take it you lived out here?"

"I did," She confirmed. "Many, many years ago... I wish I could see Ponyiat one more time, but they tell me it's impossible."

"Yeah... Unfortunately we still don't have a safe route that far north – everybody wants one, but nopony knows how to find one."

...

A few minutes later, they found Beaver ensconced in the second floor of the house on the right side of the road, across from the gutted shell of a small farm.

The pale-blue earth pony was much as Wolf remembered him, with his trademark whiskers growing strong as ever and his collection of notebooks undiminished. Beaver was the sort who could go a long way; like Wolf, he'd been in the Zone since it began.

Leaning against the outside wall, Wolf briefly listened to the muffled voices of Yili and the other mare conversing. The former had asked to stop for a short rest before going on, and was using the time to inquire about various places she once frequented. How did it feel, Wolf wondered, to have memories of life in this poisoned land before everything changed?

"Hey." Willow appeared from the hole in the wall, cradling the Windchester with confident ease. "Thanks again for getting us this far."

"My pleasure," Wolf grunted. After a few moments of quiet, he posed a question. "Where are you heading, anyway?"

"The Bar," the other replied. "After that, I'm not sure."

"Your mother's got guts."

"My mother... Oh!" Willow laughed a little, wisps of raven hair falling down over her sky-blue eyes. "Yili and I aren't related."

"Sorry." Wolf fixed his eyes on the abandoned farm. "I gotta ask, how does she expect to survive?"

"She doesn't," the pegasus said quietly. "She came back here to die, not to live... She looks good for her age, I know, but that's just on the outside."

"I see." The loner's voice was uncharacteristically solemn. "Then you're... helping fulfill a last wish?"

"That's right." Willow took out a cigarette, turned it over in her hoof and then, thinking better of it, put it away. "We met by accident, looking for the same path."

"What about yourself?"

"Hm..?"

"It's almost unheard of for a civvie to take up supply running," Wolf pointed out. "What drove you to it?"

There was a bitter chuckle. "The Stalliongrad economy won't be booming any time soon. Plus, my husband is in... dire straights."

"I know that feeling," Wolf agreed. "My Milky, now... We've had fights, but I still share what I can. It's the right thing."

"I guess." Willow sounded noncommittal. "I used to date a Mareine guy who was stationed at Camp Ajax, would you believe?"

The loner colt raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"He didn't talk about it much, and six years ago..." Willow looked at the ground before her. "It hit him hard – must have been all the friends he lost in that Limansk bloodbath. Got to the point where I had to just end it while we could still face each other. After that, he disappeared." She raised her head. "I'm rambling, sorry."

Wolf swallowed at the mention of Limansk. "It's fine." He dismissed. "Hey, if you're looking for someone to learn the trade from, there's a fellow named Bee in the Garbage who's sort of a mentor to the kids up there. Tell him I sent you and he'll set you up."

"Thanks for the tip." Hearing the creak of the wooden ladder inside, Yili stuck her head through the gap in the bricks. "All set?"

"Yes, yes," Willow answered. "We'll take our leave, Mister Wolf. Thank you so much."

By this stage the loner had gotten more thanks in a day than he had in the last three weeks. "Take care," he called, setting off before any more surprises could ambush him. "See you 'round, Beaver."

Climbing down the stairs and exiting the rotting building, he headed out back onto the dirt road.

Limansk. That hellhole he had tried so hard to forget for the past six years. He couldn't let the memories come back to him, so he thought of the here and the now.

And the now was that he could look forward to another day of peace and quiet. With more money in his picket, he could relax with a cool soda and...

"Hey Wolf!"

Just when he thought he was done with surprises for the day. He instinctively turned around to face the noise. Down the road was a familiar green unicorn galloping towards him, who he immediately recognized as Komodo

As much as he hated having another surprise, Wolf couldn't be too angry at the teen for long. Komodo was a good kid, positive and youthful without being clinically stupid like most of the new generation. Wolf didn't expect to see him out here of all places though.

"Well, look who we have here."

The green unicorn's smile spread across his whole face.

"You look like you're in a hurry kid." Wolf tilted his head. "Where you off to?"

"I'm on my way to the Cordon." Komodo took a few quick breaths. "I need to find somepony."

"Guess we both have the same idea." Wolf shrugged, "Here, I'll go on back with you. Haven't seen you in a long time, kid. How's the family?"

The colt's ears drooped, his expression now depressed. He lowered his head. "Not too good. Grams couldn't remember my name yesterday, and Sis isn't so hot either. She doesn't eat or sleep much anymore. It's almost like she..."

"Nevermind. Sorry I asked." Wolf interrupted his younger charge.

"... Well, I'm doing my best for them."

Wolf smiled, "I'm sure you are."

...

"Attention everypony!" The infuriated voice of the commander at the military checkpoint down the road washed over the camp, broadcast far and wide by the outpost's loudspeaker. "One of you stupid fucks thought it'd be funny to put out a cigarette in my drink. When I find you, I'm gonna rip your head off!"

The two trotters were just close enough to the village to hear the laughter from the ponies already there.

"Look's like somepony didn't get enough coffee this morning." Wolf commented, earning himself a loud chuckle from Komodo.

Wolf noticed the new faces around the Cordon campfire as he approached: his old unicorn friend Fanatic, a stallion hidden under a long hooded coat and the wall-eyed pegasus Clumsy.

The last set Wolf's teeth on edge: Clumsy was one of the youngest and least useful trotter. Wolf himself had felt sorry for the orphan once, but his patience was long ago dashed to pieces against Clumsy's thick skull.

"Welcome back," he said to Fanatic, noticing that the nuisance foal was sitting funny. "How did it go?"

"The kid fucked up big time." Fanatic jerked his head in Clumsy's direction and took a swig from his Cossacks podka. "Twisted his hoof running away from some bandits. Reaper here carried him halfway back with them chasing us." He grimaced. "Now the swine are moving to the Valley in larger numbers... Rama's up to something again."

"I'm not surprised," Wolf said wearily. "Did you make it to the crash site?"

"Yes." Reaper spoke for the first time, keeping his eyes on the half-eaten sausage and loaf of bread in his bag. "There was nothing in the transport. The bandits stripped it."

Wolf tried to keep his mind off how much the quiet trotter creeped him out. "No goodies for Sid, huh?"

"Not really," Fanatic confirmed. "But we hear you had an interesting assignment."

"Girls," Clumsy chimed in, interest overcoming his humiliated silence. "Were they hot?"

Wolf rolled his eyes. "One was old enough to be your mom. The other was old enough to be your grandmother."

"What about her?"

"The hell..." Wolf shook his head, "You're not serious!"

Fanatic's lip curled. "Give up. You've never scored with a mare in your life and you wouldn't score with that one."

"Yeah, well..." Clumsy momentarily held back his retort - inapplicable to the openly homosexual Fanatic - and then flung it at Komodo instead. "I bet you haven't either!"

"Oooh," Reaper, who had been content to just watch the conversation unfold, squinted at his fellow rookie. "That's low, dude."

"It's probably true, though," the offender proclaimed before Wolf could stab him in the face. "Isn't it?"

Wolf replied before Komodo could retort, "So fucking what?"

From a decript house, all of the ponies suddenly heard a number of children start hollering like an ice cream chariot had come to town. They gathered around a light-brown earth pony, a large guitar slung over his back.

Uh oh, looks like Ingram's in town. Wolf sighed loudly; all he wanted was a uneventful day off. First the supply runners, then Komodo, and now Ingram.

"Here comes the party," snorted Fanatic.

Ingram took a seat around the fire in the center of the tiny village. Everypony in the Zone knew him; he had wandered the Zone playing melodies and serenades since before Komodo could remember.

A thought came to Komodo's head; Ingram had been here for as long as he could remember. Maybe he knew where Neo had gone off to. As the guitarist sat down around the tiny fire and plucked a few strings, Komodo approached him. Wolf, Reaper, and Fanatic seemed too busy talking to each other to notice.

"Hey Ingram," The unicorn interrupted. "Sorry to distract you. I just wanted to ask you something."

"Oh no, I was just warming up my hooves. What you need?"

"Do you know anything about Neo?" inquired the unicorn.

"Neo..." He paused. "I haven't heard that name in a long time. Don't know a lot about him though. You... wouldn't happen to be looking for Night Stalker, would you?"

Komodo's eyes widened, "How did you...?"

"... I was looking for him too a while back, and I've heard about Neo claiming to know where he is. I met Night Stalker myself years ago; hell, I wrote a song based on him."

"Really?"

The earth pony smiled. "Oh sure! I was gonna play it right now, in fact."

Komodo promptly took some of the remaining bits out of his bag and tossed them into the cup.

The moment he began strumming his guitar, a veritable flock of young fillies and colts gathered around. Komodo himself couldn't catch up with their hyperactive chorus, but they were obviously happy to listen to him play. The young boys and girls chatted as they sat around the fire laughing and hitting each other. The older trotters all turned their attention to him.

His guitar notes formed a melancholy tune, a melody reminiscent of days gone by; a song of silent solitude that would not have been out of place had they been travelling down a long, winding road.

Ingram began to sing;

"On a lonesome highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of mana, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself,
'This could be Paradise or this could be Hell'
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say..."

The trotters around the campfire - young and old, male and female - began to sing along. Even Komodo found himself softly chanting;

"Welcome to the Hotel Cowlifornia
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place!)
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel Cowlifornia
Any time of year (Any time of year!), you can find it here!

Her mind is tiffany-twisted, she got the jellyfish bends
She got a lot of pretty, pretty colts, that she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget

So I called up the captain,
'Please bring me my wen'
He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here since two-thousand and ten'
And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say

Welcome to the Hotel Cowlifornia
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place!)
Such a lovely face
Livin' it up at the Hotel Cowlifornia
What a nice surprise (What a nice surprise!), bring your alibis!"

His music slowed down, his tempo changing. All else seemed to fade into silence as everypony in the village fixed their eyes on him;

"Mirrors on the ceiling,
Death and champagne on ice
And he said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device'
And in the master's chambers,
They gathered for the feast
The stab him with their steely knives,
But they just can't kill the beast

Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
'Relax,' said the night colt,
'We are programmed to receive.'
You can checkout any time you like,
But you can never leave!"

As the vocals ended, Ingram went straight into a guitar solo that captured the spotlight. The younger children clapped and stomped their hooves as the earth pony continued to play. But Komodo noticed nothing like that on the features of the older ponies looking on. Most of them had their heads turned away, like they didn't want to hear his words. Wolf had his hooves in ears; he made no secret how much he hated this song.

And just like that, his song finished. The kids surrounding him cheered and babbled. The few older ponies lurking around the buildings dropped bits into his cup, earning themselves gracious Thank you's and Faust bless's from the musician with every donation.

When the chorus died down enough, Komodo rose to his hooves and leaned to the earth pony. "Nice song."

Ingram did a small bow in gratitude. Despite how good the tune was, Komodo thought less about the music and more about the lyrics. If they were really telling the story of Night Stalker...

Fanatic suddenly appeared next to Komodo, jolting him out of his thought. "Hey, come to think of it... Wolf here told me that he ran into you this morning coming down from the Bar. That's a ways away; what did you need here so badly?"

"Oh, I'm looking for a pony." The unicorn replied. "His name's Neo."

Clumsy tilted his head. "Why you want to find him?"

"None of your fucking business." Wolf then turned his attention to the unicorn. "Sorry kid, can't help you with that. But talk to Sid if you want, he'll probably know more. He's over in that old bunker... the usual."

Komodo nodded. By now, his curiosity grew by the minute - and Ingram's song had only solidified it. He had to find Neo.

"See you round, kid!" Komodo faintly heard Wolf call out behind him before he descended the stairs into the concrete bunker buried under the hill.

...

Sid wasn't facing the door when Komodo entered the dimly-lit chamber. Instead, his chair faced towards an old flickering television behind the counter. The stallion didn't even acknowledge his entrance.

He watched the small television thoughtfully, in complete silence. Komodo couldn't help but take a peek at the program.

At first, he didn't understand what was happening. He had heard about mares wearing those kinds of clothes at weddings, although he had never actually seen a wedding dress himself.

A number of beautiful mares in dresses surrounded the handsome blue-haired stallion, dressed in an impeccable crimson uniform. Komodo recognized the imposing form of Princess Celestia herself stood presiding over the grandiose celebration.

Komodo had heard references here and there of a big event in Canterlot, but the colt could hardly believe the scale of the festival on the tiny screen. How could they have gotten all those decorations, the music, the food? It utterly boggled his young mind. And they all looked... happy, like there was nothing to worry about. No fighting, no conflict, just happiness.

"Sid?"

The earth pony, startled by the intruder, whipped his head around. His face marked by age and stress, Sid still bore the courage and intelligence of the pony who saved the trotters from starvation and kept the Zone running. "Oh, sorry I didn't see you come in. Just watching some old news of my family members getting married without me."

"Family members..." Komodo inquired, putting the pieces together by himself. "So... you know that pony on the screen?"

"Know him? He's my nephew." Sid smiled, "Prince Shining Armor, that's him. Captain of the Canterlot Royal Guard. Looks like my old uniform fits him like a glove."

Komodo also heard him mutter something, but he couldn't make it in his chair slightly, he pointed his hoof at the lavender mare standing next to Shining. "And that purple one's my niece Twilight." The grizzled stallion peeked over his chair to Komodo, "Has she grown or vhat?"

The young unicorn did a double take in response to this news. "Wait, back up! Your nephew... is a prince? That means... you're royalty?"

"Unfortunately." Sid's crooked smile covered his face. The unicorn couldn't believe the story.

"That's amazing! You should talk to him and congratulate him." suggested Komodo, "I mean... You can talk to them with all that fancy radio gear, right?"

Sid shook his head. "Bah, I haven't even seen them since they vere foals - years before the Disaster. And even if I vanted to, it'd be far too dangerous." With a long sigh, the fat stallion switched off the television with a push of the hoof and spun his chair around. "Enough of that. So... vhat can I help you vith today?"

Taken aback by Sid's subject change, Komodo had to pause to remember what he had come for.

"I'm looking for a pony named Neo."

Sid sat backwards in his seat, "Neo, eh? I know the name. If you'd come here yesterday, you'd have caught him. He steal from you or something?"

"Um... No?"

"Vell, I don't give a shit why you vant to find him." Sid rummaged about under his desk for a second. "Neo lives near the svamps vest of here - a hut by the old church. Dangerous route, though. I vouldn't recommend a pony of your age going there... but if you really vant to find him, I suggest using the railway tunnel to get to Budpony and going down the river from there. Just be careful of patrols on the way to the dock. And watch out for the old priest wandering around that area too: heard he's a little... off."

Since the military had long dynamited the abandoned tunnels which connected the swampland to the Agropony, the only practical option left was to follow the rail line west from the Cordon to the dock on the Budpony river. And Komodo knew that required good weather and a hefty bribe to the sympathizer Major Typhoon for the sake of diverting the random pegasus patrols elsewhere.

Now he regretted paying off those bandits back at the Garbage. The weather wouldn't be a problem - provided it didn't start raining - but Komodo doubted he had enough to convince Sid to pay off a military colt. Looks like he was on his own.

"Alright then. Thanks for the help." said Komodo, "Prince Sid."

The fat stallion grinned.

"Tell your grandma I said hello. Oh, and give this to Wolf on your vay out." Sid winked as he laid a bag of bits on the table, "Good hunting, trotter."