Not for the first time during this trip, (and somehow, I thought, not for the last time) the world once more came back into focus around me. I wasn’t sure just how long I’d been out this time, but it seemed to have been long enough to allow somepony to drag my sorry ass out of the desert and into a bed. Ugh, my head was still ringing from that hunk of concrete I’d hit. This was getting to be a bad habit of mine, it seemed, waking up in a strange bed after being struck in the face or head by something. At this rate I was going to end up with brain damage or something (if I hadn’t already, judging by my actions this past week). Once I’d stopped thinking about what had happened, I began to detect the sound of hushed whispers around me. It would seem I wasn’t alone in the room.

The room, as it turned out, must have been within the Tombstone Clinic. While I’d never been inside the building at the end of the street, I’d seen it during the gunfight. It seemed similar enough to other places I’d awoke in; the medical wings of Steeldome’s tower, and my own Stable’s medbay. Like those other places, the walls were painted a clean pure white. Surprisingly, there were no signs of decay, rot, or damage along the walls, unlike my room in the Drunken Mare. Orderly shelves and cabinets lined the wall near my bed, housing a multitude of bottles and containers. Simple glass doors kept the medical supplies from sticky hooves, but I doubted they would stop a determined pony from shattering them.

The hushed whispering grew a bit and returned my attention to the task at hoof. I shifted a bit on the soft warm bed to better see around the rest of the room. I found myself looking across a rather large space, filled with beds just like mine, complete with ponies lying within them with a number of bandages or healed wounds. Most of those ponies were asleep, with only a small hoof full sitting up in their beds, speaking softly with others (friends and family most likely judging by their clothing), and it was from these few that the sound of whispering had come. As my eyes moved across the brightly colored bodies, I saw that the most common injury suffered was from a gunshot to the leg or flank. The bandits had not exactly been the best of shots and had simply sprayed rounds at whatever appeared to be the most threatening. Luckily, none of the wounds seemed to be life threatening. Sadly, I realized I’d seen enough gunshot wounds to know them just by looking for the signs on the body.

My gaze shifted from the wounded ponies to the rest of the room. Like the beds and the walls, the room was surprisingly clean for being out in the middle of the Wasteland. It was likely the only place in the Wasteland that had such clean beds. Even the windows along the bed-lined wall were clean and free of grime and dirt, although it appeared several had been broken during the fighting. Those were boarded up, but the rest allowed the dim morning light to filter through and into the room. Between the windows were a number of old faded posters; the only reminder of the wasteland beyond the walls.

All had been issued from the same place, The Ministry of Peace, and all bore the same pony upon the front. The pony shyly looking out from behind her long pink mane was a butter yellow pegasus with a cutie mark of three pink butterflies, the same symbol that adorned the medical kits and supplies that had once filled Stable 45’s Medbay, the same sign that marked the location of first aid stations throughout the ruins of pony towns and cities, that sat proudly on the covers of first aid kits. The posters spoke of forgiveness and doing better, of peace and harmony.

I grunted and looked back to the wounded ponies in the room. It would seem nopony had listened then or now to those posters.

“Well, it’s about damn time you woke up. Your friends have been driving me crazy the past hour or so asking if you were awake yet,” a tired and cranky sounding voice said nearby. I turned my gaze from the room to the owner of the voice, who’d managed to approach my bed while I’d been distracted.

It was a middle-aged, graying stallion that greeted my eyes, with a too-large white lab coat, pockets filled with a number of objects, covering his upper torso. A stethoscope (which was also his cutie mark) hung loosely around his neck. The pony’s coat was a dull blue color with a dark green mane and tail (both of which had streaks of grey running throughout them). The most noticeable thing about the pony, however, was the pair of feathered wings along his sides, both tucked closely to his body. So, it seemed my winged friend was not the only pegasus running around the wasteland. He still had his cutie mark, however; from what Wild told me, that was something the Enclave made a show of burning away before tossing their unwanted citizens out of heaven and into hell.

“Yes, I am indeed a pegasus. So it seems your eyes are working properly at least.” This must have been Doctor Mitchell, the pony who’d taken in the wounded from the train, along with the family of zebras. He narrowed his yellow eyes on my head and reached a hoof up to rub between my ears and forehead, checking for something. “Well, it looks and feels like there’s no permanent damage, although I hear from your friends you seem to get hit in the head a lot.” His hoof then whacked me good. In the bucking head. Hard. I of course reacted as well as one could expect.

“Motherfuckingsonofabitch!!!” I yelled out and wrapped my sore, aching head in my forehooves quickly, narrowing my own golden eyes upon the demented bastard of a doctor. “What the hell was that for!?” I shouted into the old pegasus’ face and would have received another smack atop my head if I hadn’t seen it coming and dodged away.

“Reaction time’s good and you can still speak,” he said, before poking me hard in the chest with his hoof. “Keep it down. I do have other patients in the medical ward beside you. Now, if you please, out of bed. I have other patients in need of it more than you do at the moment.” A door behind him opened quickly and a purple-coated unicorn mare stepped through, looking about the room with concern in her teal colored eyes.

Like the doctor, she too wore a large white lab coat, and it covered much of her front half. Her dark blue mane was done up in a tight bun to keep any strands out of her face. Her horn glowing a soft purple as she floated a clip board alongside her. She looked from the doctor to me, and slowly smiled a knowing smile. It seemed she’d found the source of the sudden noise. As the nurse stepped aside to give the doctor the clipboard, another pony followed her in, and this one I was far more thankful to see.

“That’s twice Ah’ve had ta haul yer lazy flank outta th’ wasteland and back ta civilization. One of these days Ah reckon’ yer gonna need ta be brought back in a bag.” I smiled sheepishly to Stonehoof and shrugged my shoulders.

“Sorry about that, Stone. Suppose I should have watched where I put my hooves,” I answered with a bit of a chuckle. The doctor turned back to regard both my friend and I before rolling his eyes and muttering about foolish Stable ponies. He said something else to the nurse before trotting off to check on one of the other patients in the Clinic. As Stone stepped towards me, the nurse’s horn lit up once more and a trunk at the foot of my bed opened up and out floated my gear.

“Do you need any help getting dressed?” she asked. Was it just my imagination or did she look a little too hopeful that I’d need assistance with that? Or maybe it was just Wild’s drunken outburst the night before creeping into my head. Bad pegasus. Bad.

“No thanks, I can manage on my own,” I said with a kind smile to the mare, who nodded and trotted off to the bed next to mine and the pony beginning to wake up.

“Ah’m thinkin’ Wild’s right bout ya, Shadow,” my friend said from beside my bed, his green eyes going from the purple mare then back to me. I slid out of bed and reached for the bundle of gear that had been neatly wrapped up in thin paper. It appeared most had been repaired and washed for me, though my armor still bore a number of deep gouges and chips. I pulled my old worn and tattered Stable jumpsuit from the bundle and began pulling it on as Stone continued, “Ya really shouldn’t be pushin’ so many away if they wanna get ta know ya. Goddesses above know ya could use some time ta relax.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you two should try locking the chariot door next time.” I zipped the suit closed with a hoof and looked over to Stone as I spoke. The stallion’s face flushed and his ears flicked back in embarrassment. He even went so far as to fall back onto his tail as I turned away and chuckled. “I’m happy you two are at least getting along and no longer trying to kill one another.”

“Well, she’s a right maddenin’ mare most of th’ time.” I gave my friend a deadpan look and he snorted and stomped a hoof. “All right, nearly all th’ time, but then, so are most mares.” He looked away from me and over to the row of beds filled with wounded townsfolk. “After everythin’ that happened over th’ past few days...” He shook his head and looked back to me. “Well, Ah suppose it’s like my Pa use ta tell my brother and Ah: ‘each day we’re alive is a gift, and not a goddess given right, so make each and every day out ta be yer last and ye’ll never have regrets when yer time comes’.”

I looked up from my battered riot armor to my large grey friend as he spoke. That was actually very insightful. I looked over to the nurse helping the pony in his bed. Perhaps it was advice I should heed, and do like Wild had said (well, not all that she said; I didn’t think it was possible to buck a zebra hard enough to make their stripes fall off), and settle down. Allow myself to find somepony to start a family with. Well... perhaps when we reached San Ponsisco. Stone went on to explain.

“Never did think much of it at th’ time he said it. I was like any young buck out ta prove himself. Ah reckon Ah came closer ta dyin’ in Kanter City then Ah ever have before, and, well... makes a pony think about things. About What-Could-Be’s and What-Should’ve-Been’s. Beyond a few short flings back home, Ah ain’t never really thought much of findin’ myself a mare.”

“I understand, Stone.” I slipped the chest plate over my head and through my forehooves. I was indeed happy for the pair, as odd as they were. Perhaps Sheriff Sweetshot had been right. Odd couples make things more interesting, though I hoped if Stone was getting serious with Wild she in turn was looking for the same thing. The former Enclave Wing Commander did not strike me as the settling-down type... but then, neither did Stone. Strapping the black armored plating to my chest, I reached back with my mouth to tighten the straps on the back plate. At any rate, it was time to stop thinking about my friends’ love lives and start thinking about what had happened after I ran headlong into a metal road sign.

“I suppose that's something we can talk about later. For right now, what have I missed?”

“Well, ain’t missed a lot, ya was only out for a couple hours. It’s bout noon, Ah think. Th’ ponies that attacked th’ town just up and started runnin’ away. Ah reckon it was some sorta signal or agreed time, they’d gotten what they wanted from th’ bank. When Wild and Ah finally found out where ya’d taken off ta, we hoofed it over ta th’ bank where we found Balefire guardin’ a couple prisoners. He told us ya went runnin’ off like a damned fool so we went off ta save yer damn fool ass.” I winced a bit. Yeah, yeah, I should have waited for help, “We left Balefire ta tell the locals what happened.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised they didn’t come back and finish me off,” I said as I slipped my foreleg armor plates on over my knees. While most of my foreleg armor was made up of a mesh knitting, there were a few harder plates on key areas to stop bullets. The mesh also allowed for easier movement and less weight.

“Ah reckon they was in a mighty big hurry ta be puttin’ some distance ‘atween themselves and th’ town before th’ locals discovered what’d happened and rose up ta hunt ’em down. When we found ya, Wild told me ta get ya back ta th’ Clinic and she’d go lookin’ for them bandits herself.” The earth pony had remained sitting the whole time and now stood up to move a bit (pacing perhaps?). “Ah swear, that mare’s always riskin’ herself on foolish things.” I turned away to hide my smile as my friend worried over Wild. I reached for the still holstered revolver and slid it across my left foreleg. Speaking of...

I looked over the room for any sign of the ponies we’d arrived with the night before. The doctor had taken them in before I’d gone to meet up with Stone and Wild at the saloon. I also searched for any signs of Spirit, Kanzi, or the other zebras. When I saw no sign of any of them, I looked back to Stone and asked where they were.

“Spirit and Kanzi are helpin’ the Doc with th’ wounded. Not enough beds in here for ’em all, so they’re seein’ to a few over at th’ Drunkin’ Mare. Th’ owners lettin’ Kanzi’s family stay for free since she’s helpin’ out th’ town.” Well, that was news. The Sheriff had mentioned he was a more reasonable pony with strangers, and it seemed she’d been correct about him. “As fer th’ wounded we came in with, they’re scattered between th’ different saloons. Th’ mayor ‘talked’ th’ owners into lettin’ the Doc use the extra rooms for th’ least severely wounded.”

“Well, its good to know that the ponies in charge around here are not as concerned whether a pony has stripes or not as some of the townsfolk last night at the station. What about Balefire and Carrion?” Stone’d already mentioned leaving the wild green unicorn in town while they’d gone after me. As for Carrion, he’d been a bit angry last night; I imagine the bandits had gotten more than they’d bargained for if they’d crossed paths with the ghoul.

“Balefire’s over at th’ Sheriff’s Office last time Ah seen ’im, and Carrion’s checking th’ town’s defenses in case th’ bandits come back.”

Not likely, they’d gotten whatever they’d been after and I’d guess had no need to come back. It’d be too risky, since the townsfolk would be expecting it. Speaking of the Sheriff...

“What about the Sheriff? Did she and the others return from the farmstead?” I asked, but as Stone opened his mouth to answer, another pony beat him to it. The voice’s owner was the pony now sitting up in the bed across from mine, and was also familiar to me.

“She ain’t come back yet. Ah reckon they set a trap for her ta keep her and th’ deputies that went with ’er busy.” The pony speaking was the same wounded lawpony who Balefire and I had gone to help outside the bank. He now sported several white bandages wrapped around his flanks and torso where the bullet wounds had been that morning. The deputy unicorn looked in far better shape than he had beside that wagon.

“Has anypony gone to check on them?” I asked either stallion, tossing my saddlebags across my back and reaching for the loose hanging straps.

“Th’ griffon mercs ya rode into town with left shortly after they heard she might be in trouble, said they owed her for th’ hospitality,” the deputy once more answered. Griff and Razor? Had they taken the two mares with them as well? Unarmed in the wasteland? Stone cleared his throat and raised a hoof up to get my attention.

“Before ya ask or start worryin’, Ah let ’em gear up with some of th’ raiders’ weapons and armor we took. Ah figured it’d be somethin’ ya’d offer ta do. They took what they needed and flew off.”

“You guessed right, Stone. How long ago did they leave?” I tightened the straps for the packs across my stomach and fixed them in pace.

“About hour and a half ago, Ah reckon,” my friend answered, looking over to the deputy who nodded his head.

Well, it seemed the Sheriff and however many ponies she had with her would be of little help to Tombstone or retrieving the stolen goods the bandits had taken. And just what had they taken and where? Luna’s Ruse was all that remained upon the bed, beside my borrowed cowpony hat. The crossed rifle pin sitting in the center caught a bit of the light coming through the windows.

“So, assuming it was the Blackhoof gang like you thought, any ideas on where they’d be going or what they actually got away with?” I asked, as the deputy lay back in his bed with a slight grunt of pain. I arched a brow towards the stallion but he waved the concerned look away and continued.

“From what Ah heard th’ other deputies talkin’ bout, they got away with about half th’ ammo we had stored in th’ bank vault, most of th’ spare guns and all but a couple boxes of canned and dried food,” he said as he stared at the ceiling. “Most of it we’re gonna be needin’ come this winter.”

Winter? In the middle of a desert? Stone must have noticed my confused look and began to explain. He knew I’d spent my whole life in a Stable, and, while we’d seen evidence of weather while patrolling the few miles around the Stable entrance, we’d never seen any snow or ice like the books spoke of.

“Likely not what yer thinkin’ of winter, Shadow. We don’t get a lotta snow down this far south... heck, not many places do in Equestria no more, ‘cept in places like Wintertrot. What we do get is storms, big storms blowin’ down from up north. Large number of ’em are sandstorms, blown up by strong winds. Coupla’ years ago we had one large enough ta blot out the already covered sky for a couple weeks’ time. Buried a few smaller towns and killed a number of ponies.” Great, something else killing ponies beside the wildlife and raiders. Could the world get any more fucked up? Stone went on to explain about other ways ponies could die by the weather. Good times...

“Some normal storms, as well. At least, as normal as a storm can be in th’ wasteland, seein’ as how they’re normally laced with radiation an’ acid rain.” I stared at the pony standing across from me. Acid rain? Of course there’d be acid rain. “Some fancy speakin’ unicorn from out east was tryin’ ta explain it ta us in Crossroads. He said it was from all th’ ruined cities up north of us, still soaked in radiation after all these years. Th’ wind kicked up all that mess and whips it up into th’ clouds. It then spread across th’ country.” Made sense, I suppose, and I could see where this was going. It was the deputy that put it into words, however.

“It's already difficult enough, tryin’ ta grow enough food for a settlement’s population without th’ sun’s light and little water. Settlements like ours have ta grow food year round ta just make sure everypony’s got enough ta not completely starve. Round these parts, we have ta save up some for th’ winter months when we can’t grow, or scavenge for supplies in ruins of large cities or abandoned small towns. And th’ only city close enough for that is Kanter City, and it an’t an option. Couple years ago a group tried, but we never heard from ’em again. With trade all but stopped, well, we need them supplies.”

It was a wonder to me still that anypony had managed to survive longer than a couple weeks on the surface, but here they were. Ponies trying to eke out an existence in a world so determined to kill what few remained. They’d been doing it since the bombs fell, as I’d seen in Wastefall and Crossroads, and they’d been doing it since a couple of the Stables had opened up, like in San Ponsisco.

“As for where they took th’ supplies or where their hideout is... well, like Ah said this mornin’, they’ve got some place out in th’ wasteland they all stay in. An ol’ ruined farmhouse or somethin’. Th’ wasteland is full of places a group of ponies can hide, and there’s a fair number of ’em in the surroundin’ hills and plains. However, Ah might know somepony who might give ya some directions and perhaps narrow down yer search, if yer really set on goin’ after ’em,” the stallion said, rubbing his chin with a hoof. “When they was draggin’ me off ta th’ Clinic, Ah saw yer friend come outta th’ bank with a couple of them bandits. Said ya told ’em to surrender and one did, an’ after ya ran off a couple more gave up as well. Ah reckon they’re enjoyin’ a stay over at th’ Sheriff's Office in one of th’ cells.”

Hmm, perhaps some good would come from that little bout of insanity. At any rate it would be someplace to start looking and would spare us needlessly wandering around the wasteland looking for a band of ponies. Still, it seemed there were a lot more ponies than a normal gang should have. Well, then again, I didn’t exactly know what a ‘normal gang’ would be. I said as much, and the deputy agreed.

“Yer right, th’ Blackhoofs never had this sorta pony power before. At most they was a small group of ‘bout twenty or so trouble makers from around th’ wasteland. Ah rightly don’t know where they got so many ta help ’em out.” Another question left unanswered for the moment. Perhaps one of the prisoners could shed some light on that as well. The nurse walked back up to the deputy and looked over to Stone and myself.

“Please, he needs to get some rest.”

“Of course, we’ll just be leaving.” Taking the hint, I nodded my head and nudged Stone’s shoulder with a hoof. The two of us stepped quietly from the room and out into a small hallway. At either end of the narrow passage was a doorway, one opening into a small room such as a office or examination room. The other appeared to lead out into the waiting room. Stone lead me towards this end of the hallway, and as we neared, I saw several ponies sitting in chairs or on the floor with a number of injuries, from cuts and bruises to minor gunshot wounds. All appeared to be waiting their turn to see the doctor. Stone led me through the waiting ponies and towards an old worn wooden door that would open out onto the streets of Tombstone.

As we emerged from the Clinic and out onto the humid, dirt-covered streets of the town, I saw that most of the damage from the earlier fight had been cleaned up. The ruined wagon out front of the bank and Sheriff's Office had been hauled away, and I saw several store owners working on repairing the numerous bullet holes in their stores walls and doors. A number of ponies walked past us in a hurry to be somewhere. The friendly neutral look we’d gotten the night before was largely gone from their eyes. Most watched us with some suspicion, likely wondering if we’d not had something to do with the bandits or the attack. Few still nodded their heads in greeting.

“Ah reckon we’ll be goin’ after them bandits then?” Stone asked me as ponies trotted past. The large grey earth pony ignored the ponies looking over at us, I guess since they’d likely been giving him the evil eye most of the morning.

“Possibly. I want to find out a little more about these bandits and where they’re holed up before we run off into the wasteland looking for them, as well as find out how everyone else is doing,” I said with a smile to my friend. We started walking across the open street for the row of buildings on the other side. Beyond a few ponies moving about, there was little traffic to worry about at this time of day. It seemed most ponies were either staying indoors or along the walls.

The walls... how exactly had the bandits gotten past them? When we’d arrived last night there’d been a large number of ponies along the walls, although I doubt that was normal. Most had likely just been citizens attempting to get a look at the train pulling up to their home. Still, thus far every town I’d been to had some sort of local law enforcement and guards, I’d seen a large number of deputies and a few ponies dressed in combat armor, so the surrounding countryside was likely watched from those walls. Yet the bandits had managed to slip past the wall and gain entrance to the town. Had they really just snuck in the night before like the deputy had said? That many? My thoughts were interrupted as Stone spoke again.

“Ah’d like ta wait for Wild ta return as well. She may have found somethin’ out herself.” He likely would worry about the mare if we left without her. I couldn’t really blame him for that; she’d become a close friend to me as well (although perhaps not as close as they’d become) and I’d worry about the fire maned pegasus just as much. As it turned out, neither of us would have to worry much longer.

“Awww, you do care,” a female voice called out from above. Stopping in the middle of the street, Stone and I looked skyward just as a orange coated mare floated gracefully down from the rooftops to land in a flourish of wings and mane.

“Ah reckon Ah sorta do...”

“Well, don’t worry, I’m a big filly and can look after myself,” the pegasus smirked and trotted around Stone, flicking her tail up into his face playfully as she easily slipped in between us. Wild turned and looked to me then, growing serious for a time, “I’m afraid I wasn’t able to find much. Their tracks disappeared with the morning wind a couple miles south of town and on rocky terrain, but I did spot several abandoned ranches and farm houses nearby that are large enough to hide them.”

“How far out?” I asked, as Stone twitched his nose from the tail flick.

“I’d say we’re about ten miles from the nearest of the buildings, further for most of the others. I did see evidence that a couple had been repaired recently.” Wild looked over the town, then kicked a hoof full of dirt up from the dry packed street we stood upon watching as the wind blew the dust away, “I dunno why anypony would bother though, I can’t imagine much growing out there beyond scrub brush and rocks.”

“Not much will,” Stone spoke up as we began walking once more and stepped up onto the wooden sidewalk. “Just potatoes, mushrooms, or scrub grass at most.” Wait, ponies eat that brown stuff I’d seen all across the wasteland? If it tasted like it looked.... “From what little Ah heard about Tombstone, th’ town’s farms are ta th’ west.” The stallion pointed a large grey hoof towards said direction. “Th’ terrain ain’t as rocky and dry out yonder. There’s a couple natural springs comin’ down from th’ mountains ta help feed th’ crops as well.”

“Hmm, so how’d ya get so big on mushrooms and potatoes?” Wild asked with a playful wink and poke of an orange hoof into Stone’s side before turning back to the subject at hoof. “I saw a number of buildings off to the west near the ridgeline the tracks followed. I didn’t fly over to check them out though, as they were a fair distance away.”

“It’s where th’ Sheriff went off ta,” Stone added. I doubt they’d have gone to the same place where they’d set up an ambush for the town’s Sheriff. They had to know they’d never be able to hold the town for long, and sooner or later ponies would come looking for their lead law pony. I just hoped Griff and Razor had found her and her deputies alive.

“I doubt they’d have their hideout so close to town. Or near the farms where they might be spotted by ponies loyal to the town. It’d likely be one of the sites further out and to the south, likely near the border with Caledonia.”

“Well, we’re a good ways from th’ border Ah reckon. Though Ah dunno why they’d bother crossing the border into another country after stealin’ from Tombstone. Th’ wastelands th’ wasteland, whether it’s Equestrian or Caledonian,” Stone said, as we trotted along the wooden planks past opening stores. Beside him, Wild half smirked and looked back to me to add, “Maybe they're planning on jumping the border to get away from the Marshall and his posse of brave and awesome ponies.”

I simply rolled my eyes and snorted at that. Up until last night they likely didn’t even know I was here, nor would they have had any reason to fear me. I may have taken down a couple of raiders, but I was hardly the talk of the local towns’ watering holes. I was no local legend such as High Marshall Pipsqueak had been. Hell, I wasn’t even a real Marshall. It seemed deciding to take the hat and star with me had been a mistake, yet I couldn’t bring myself to remove them. I turned to Wild as we stopped to allow a couple of elderly mares past us.

“Where else are they going to go? Kanter City’s to the northeast, the mountains are to the west, and there’s nothing but desert and raiders to the east. Even if the followed the tracks west, they’d end up in C.S.E. territory and I somehow doubt they’d welcome bandits and thieves. They’re either planning on selling what they’ve stolen, keeping it for themselves, or using it to take the town.”

“Can’t be after th’ town. They coulda already taken it while they was here. Don’t make no sense ta just rob th’ bank and leave with the goods only ta try and come back later to take over,” Stone reasoned as we started back down the sidewalk. As we took a few more steps, we rounded the street corner and the Sheriff's Office came into view. The Drunken Mare was just at the end of the street and beside it sat the Bank. There were a number of curious ponies standing out front, along with two of the town's remaining deputies keeping them out.

“Agreed. It also doesn’t make sense to just sit on whatever they stole. They have to know the Sheriff will eventually find them, considering how important the items taken are to the town. They’d comb the countryside until they found them.” We followed the wooden walkway down the street towards the Sheriff’s Office. “I think they’re going to try and sell it or use it to get themselves somewhere else in the wasteland, likely far from here.” At last we reached the building with the hole-filled wooden sign, the gold painted star remarkably free of holes. The bandits had been really bad shots.

“Well, I’m so glad we’ve got this all figured out, so why exactly are we going to the Sheriff’s Office?” Wild asked as Stone opened the simple wooden door. Like the sign hanging above it, the door had a number of holes in and through it. It seemed the fury of the attack had been largely focused on the town's lawponies.

“To narrow down our search. Somepony they captured this morning may tell us which of those farmhouses you saw is their hide-out, and perhaps what they're planning to do next,” I said in answer to the pegasus’ question. Wild shrugged her wings and stepped inside, followed by Stone and myself shortly after.

The inside of the Sheriff’s Office looked like something you’d expect from one of the old western movies we’d watched back in the Stable. The floorboards were wooden, well worn from use and age, with a number of large cracks and holes hastily repaired by ponies who likely had no clue how too. The faded rust red brick walls were chipped and pot marked with a number of bullet holes; some of which looked as if they’d been there for years. Like the Clinic, the walls of the building had a number of old war posters hanging up, with slogans such as ‘Do Your Part, join the Equestrian Guard Today!’ and ‘Beware, anypony could be a Zebra spy!’.

Sitting on either side of the large room were two desks that, like the walls and floors, were chipped and worn from age and use. A number of metal filing cabinets stood behind each, dented and one missing a drawer entirely. I saw two gun cabinets similar to the one I’d found in the saloons hidden upstairs room at Wastefall, however these were not covered with dust and appeared locked. There were also two ponies sitting in the room along with several empty chairs and a couple of tables. Both ponies looked up from whatever they’d been doing before we’d entered.

The nearest was a dark brown earth pony stallion with a dull red and black striped mane; he appeared to be working on a shotgun that rested atop the desk he sat at. The stallion’s dark green eyes lifted from a number of tools and a small bottle of oil sitting on the desk to my friends and I. A tattered cowpony hat sat beside him at the desk along with the silver badge of a deputy. I could not see his cutie mark, since he was sitting behind the desk.

The other pony in the room was sitting in one of the office’s chairs (it looked to have been made up of parts of different pieces of furniture judging by the mismatched legs and backing). Her seat was near a metal door leading into the back of the building, a small window with bars over it in the center. Unlike the stallion, the green coated unicorn mare was wearing combat armor with a silver badge pinned to the chest, and wore her hat atop her teal colored mane. A pair of revolvers hung around her waist, the belt stuffed full of spare rounds for the weapons. A worn pair of brown saddlebags sat beside her on the floor. It was the stallion at the desk who spoke first.

“Can we help ya strangers?” He arched a brow as he looked us over. He’d likely been one of the many deputies who’d been at the track gates the night before when we’d arrived, but it’d been getting dark and perhaps he didn’t know who we were. The mare tilted her head as she sized us up, but after a moment she seemed to recall who we were and even smiled a bit.

“I hope you can, officer. I wanted to ask one of your prisoners a couple questions about the bank robbery this morning,” I answered, putting on my best smile. None of the townsponies had any reason to trust me, and despite the warm open welcome we’d received from the Sheriff, she’d pointed out the locals could be a bit cold to strangers. Even more so after the recent attack.

“And why’d Ah be allowin’ a group of strangers ta be doin’ somethin’ like that? For that matter, why do ya even wanna talk with ’im?” he asked, putting down the stained cloth he’d been using to clean the shotgun. His eyes narrowed a bit at me as he looked more closely to my armor and weapons. Then his eyes widened as he spotted the old worn star I wore on my chest. “Wait, yer that pony that arrived in town last night with all them rescued prisoners.” The mare stood up from her seat, causing us all to look her direction as the wooden legs scraped against the floor loudly.

“Th’ Sheriff said ta treat ’em like one of us, Roy,” the mare spoke up, looking to her counterpart at the desk then back to us. “Mac said he helped ’im out with th’ bandits at th’ bank. If it weren’t for this pony, we’d likely not have half the ponies we got locked up and a might more wounded townsfolk.”

“Sheriff ain’t here, Lucy, an’ ya know we don’t just let anypony walk into th’ jail just cause they wanna have a chat with one of th’ prisoners. They’re strangers from outta town; for all we know they’re in with th’ bandits.” To this the mare snorted and shook her head.

“Well, Ah don’t rightly think they are. Don’t make a lick of sense ta help jail yer partners. Anyway, ain’t your decision ta make. Th’ Sheriff left me in charge of the jail, so Ah’m lettin’ ‘em in.” As she spoke, the mare reached down to a belt wrapped around her armored chest with her mouth and gripped the set of keys hanging there between her teeth.

She turned and began flipping through the large number of old iron keys with a hoof until she found the right one and pushed it into the lock of the metal door. As she turned the key, a soft click reached my ears and the door opened slowly as the lock was released. She pulled the key free from the door and hung it back on her side. Pushing a hoof into the open space between door and frame, she pulled the door open on rusty hinges.

“Whatever, ya ol’ bat, just make sure ya don’t let ’em set th’ prisoners free. Ah ain’t gonna help ya round’em back up,” the stallion responded and went back to cleaning his weapon, muttering under his breath.

Stone, Wild, and I quickly followed the green mare as she trotted past the now wide-open door and into the dark room that lay beyond. The scent of the room hit me as soon as I crossed the doorway. Despite the fact they’d only been in here a few hours, the heat and the small space had conspired to make the smell of unwashed pony flesh very strong. The fact the cells each had only a single toilet hadn’t helped much either. Might seem odd I’d notice that right off the bat, but it was easy seeing how a pony was squatting over one of the damned things when we went in. Still, the smell quickly went away after a few moments; after all, I’d just trekked through an abandoned sewer and through the filth of raiders just days ago. After that, anything was bearable. I began to focus more on the room itself, and the source of the smell.

The room was much darker than the front of the Sheriff’s Office for the simple fact that there were far fewer windows in the jail and they were built so far up the wall and so very small. The iron bars running across them further blocked out light, resulting in narrow shafts of dim sunlight reaching the cold stone flooring. A hallway ran the length of the room, with cells on either side. There were about four cells on each side; a total of eight. Each had two bunks and a toilet (more like a hole in the floor since I’d gotten to see one in action). At the front of the room, an old battered desk sat beside the door with another patchwork chair sitting behind it. Despite the rusty door hinges and battered furniture, the rest of the cells appeared in fair shape. The iron bars that lined the cells were largely rust free and well maintained. I doubted they saw much use beyond a pony needing to sleep off a night of heavy drinking; that is, until today.

We followed the deputy as she began walking between the cells, her eyes focused on the barred room near the end of the hall. The sound of our hoofsteps clopped loudly over the concrete floor of the room. Seems the builders had decided to make escape by digging under wooden floor boards an impossibility. As we went, I scanned the filthy worn faces behind the bars.

Like any other group of ponies I’d seen throughout the wasteland and even back home, there was a mix of unicorns and earth ponies (but no more pegasi beyond the town’s doctor). Most ignored us as we trotted past, though a couple watched us with looks of hatred or worry. Their tattered vests and barding hung loosely to their frames. A number of them were so thin I could actually see their ribs through their hide. Most had wounds freshly bandaged and a large number still had on old worn hats. One pony lay across the floor with his wide brimmed hat over his face, snoring loudly from under it. Our guide stopped at the end of the row of jail cells and turned her attention towards the cell on the right.

It held five ponies currently, in a space meant for two or three. Like many of the others, they mostly ignored us as we approached the bars to their cell, all but one. He was a rather pitiful looking sight, and one I’d seen before. The stallion was laying upon the floor in the back of the cell, beside the two cots which were holding two other ponies. The stallion’s head lay between his forehooves with his ears drooped down on either side of his head. The sound of so many hoofsteps coming towards the bars caught his attention and, with twitching ears, he lifted his head from the cold stone floor to look up. I’d recognized him at once as the pony who’d tossed his weapon down in the bank as Balefire and I fought to stop the bandits from stealing the towns supplies. I briefly wondered where the dark green unicorn was at; Stone had said he was supposed to be here, but I’d seen neither hide nor hair of him.

“This here’s the bandit ya helped capture at th’ bank. Th’ rest either surrendered throughout th’ town or yer fast talkin’ green friend made ’em give up,” Lucy said, pointing a hoof towards the pony laying on the floor. The deputy eyed the remaining prisoners before stepping aside to make room for my friends and I to approach the bars more closely.

I stepped up near the bars and quickly looked over the other ponies inside. The bandits were dirty, worn, thin and, in some cases, a bit sickly looking, with threadbare clothing and crude hoofmade armor. They looked like any other pony I’d seen in the wasteland, the ones in towns not of the raider type. They were a hard looking bunch, covered in scrapes and bruises from the fighting. I focused my gaze upon the stallion from the bank and nodded my head towards him.

“I wanted to ask you a couple questions about your friends,” I began. He rose to his hooves from the floor and slowly trotted towards the bars of his cell. As he moved past them, the ponies in his cell looked up from the floor or whatever they’d been doing to glance over towards my friends and I. Behind me, I could feel other pairs of eyes settling upon my back. Good, I had their attention and they were listening to me. Perhaps one of them would answer my questions, if not this one. Still, he’d given up without a fight, and something was telling me there were more to these ponies than just would-be bank robbers.

“Ain’t no friends of mine,” he said, spitting on the floor of his cell, light blue eyes narrowing on my face as he looked back up. “I ain’t no bandit either, least not really...” His eyes softened a bit and a look of regret or shame crossed his features for a moment. I looked a bit more closely at this pony than I had at the bank or the quick look I’d given him as we approached the cell. Like many of his fellow cellmates, his ribcage showed through his mangy, dull orange coat, and I could see dark circles under his blue eyes. It was hard to tell what his mane color had been, it was so covered in dirt from the wasteland, but a few strands of pale yellow poked out from below the dust. He was wearing a simple brown and yellow vest with a number of pockets, along with an empty pistol holster on his side. His cutie mark was odd for a would-be bandit: a row of green sprouts and a hoe. Perhaps he had been a farmer in his youth? No, he was just a few years older than me, but he looked tired, worn out. Not the sort of tired from lack of sleep, but tired of life. Of the wasteland. Of the horrors of it all. For some reason, I felt I could trust this pony. Some instinct in my soul told me he wasn’t a bad pony, just a pony in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Oh? You just run around the wasteland raiding towns with complete strangers then?” Wild asked, tilting her head a bit to eye the pony over. “You don’t look like a mercenary to me, and I know a thing or two about them, seeing how I use to run with a group of ’em. In fact, none of you fit the bill for a hardass merc,” she added, tapping a hoof against the bars of his cell and looking over the stallions he shared the room with. The mare glanced over the worn earth pony again before looking over to Stone and myself, “I’ve seen my share of wasteland scum, and these don’t really look the type real. Real mercs would eat these ponies for breakfast... literally, depending on the griffon.”

“And since when did you become such a good judge a’ character?” Stone jabbed, to which Wild simply grinned and jerked a hoof my way.

“Since I started running around with that one.” Was that a compliment? “He has a nasty habit of making ponies do good deeds and being all heroic and shit.” Stone merely chuckled at that and I arched a brow, still unsure if that was an insult or compliment. Knowing Wild it was likely both. Stone cleared his throat and spoke once he’d gotten my attention.

“She ain’t far wrong, though. Ah’ve seen mah share of bandits and mercs too, an’ he looks too much like th’ folks of Tombstone ta be a thief. Fact of th’ matter is, they all look like hardworkin’ ponies just in a spot of trouble.” The gray stallion glanced over the ponies in the eight cells, most avoiding his stare. “Wasteland’s full of ponies in desperate ways just like these. Most stay outta trouble, but... seems these ponies didn’t.”

“Well, lets start at the beginning then,” I said calmly as my friends seemed to agree with my unspoken assessment of the ponies in the cells. They had far more experience in the wasteland than I, but it seems I was quickly learning. Was that a good thing? I suppose so, if I wanted to stay alive long enough to reach San Ponsisco and my niece. I held up a hoof to my chest as I continued speaking to the prisoner, “My name’s Shadow, and these are my friends.” I waved my hoof to each pony in turn. “Stonehoof, and Wildfire, and the deputy’s name is Lucy.” My friends smirked but said nothing. The prisoner arched a brow and looked at me as if I was nuts. After all, who introduces themselves to prisoners and ponies who’d just tried to kill you. “What's your name?”

“Runner,” he said simply, and seemed unlikely to say much else. By now all the ponies in his cell lifted their eyes towards me. Each shared a similar look with the stallion I was focusing on: Who the hell was this buck and what was he drinking?

“Well, Runner. Care to tell us your side of the story?”

“Why do ya care? Ah think th’ ponies in charge have already made up their minds ‘bout me, an’ tellin’ my side of th’ story ain’t gonna do me no good,” Runner said with a resigned sigh. Before I could respond, Wild moved up beside me and leaned back on her hind legs so she could wrapped one of her foreleg around my neck. With surprising strength she pulled me close and squeezed my neck as she spoke.

“Caring. Caring about everypony everywhere!” she dramatically intoned, holding out her free forehoof before us, stormy blue eyes wide. “It’s what he does.” After a moment of silence in which everypony was staring at the mare as if she’d finally snapped, she released me and dropped back to all four hooves before sitting down and reaching for her pack of smokes. One of the prisoners coughed lightly and Lucy shifted on her hooves uneasily as Wild lit her smoke and calmly stuck it between her lips.

Ooookay...

“Well, Ah reckon Ah ain’t got nothin’ ta lose,” Runner finally sighed after several seconds of silence from Wild’s outburst. She hadn’t even been drunk this time! “Ah reckon Ah may as well start at th’ beginnin’ ta explain what’s goin’ on. Ah’m originally from th’ small farmin’ settlement of Southfield-” Lucy cut him off quickly.

“Southfield? Its been abandoned for months now!” When I arched a brow to the mare, she explained quickly, remembering I wasn’t from around here. She waved a hoof vaguely towards the south, where I’d never have guessed a town called Southfield would be. “It used ta be one of Tombstone’s outlyin’ communities. They had one of th’ few plots of land south of town that’ll actually grow food. In th’ winter we take ’em in durin’ the storms. Like most of th’ small communities round these parts, they ain’t exactly citizens of th’ town and they mostly fend for themselves.” She looked back to Runner. “But a couple months ago when they hadn’t contacted us, th’ Sheriff went out with a couple deputies ta check up on ’em. After all, we need each other ta survive. Ah was one of th’ ponies that went with th’ Sheriff and all we found was burned-out homes. All the ponies just vanished without a trace.”

At that, a pony in the cell behind us struck the metal bars with his hooves and snorted loudly, causing us all to turn in surprise at the sudden outburst. Like the ponies around him, he was covered in dust and a mix of bruises and cuts. He bore a white bandage around his midsection that wrapped around his right front foreleg. He was far larger than Runner, though he looked almost as starved. It seemed his spirit was not as crushed as the other earth pony, judging by the tone of his voice and narrowed brown eyes on the deputy.

“Without a trace? Ya’ll stopped sendin’ anythin’ ta us, ya crazy bitch! And when we learned of an attack on our homes we sent messengers askin’ fer yer help. Ya’ll didn’t send any, and th’ messengers never returned ta their families!” the stallion growled out between yellowed teeth, pushing his muzzle through the bar and jabbing a hoof at Lucy. “Needin’ one another ta survive, my flank. We lost a lotta good folks cuz ya’ll stopped carin’ ‘bout us!” I heard muttering agreement from several of the other prisoners in the jail cells, a few standing up to eye the deputy angrily.

I quickly stepped between them before things got out of hoof. Seems there was a lot more going on here than a simple bank robbery after all. Lucky me. Looking from Lucy to the unnamed pony yelling, I attempted to get the conversation back on track before we had a riot on our hooves.

“I take it some of you survived?” I directed this question to anypony in the cells.

“Yeah, couple ponies known around th’ area as th’ Blackhoof Gang showed up and fought th’ raiders off. Drove ’em back down south of town. When they came back, the Blackhoof Brothers spoke with th’ settlement leader, Ol’ Halfear, about movin’ us somewhere safer. Told ’im Tombstone had abandoned us like they had them,” the large angry stallion said. I saw other prisoners nodding, all but Runner. Well, at least we were getting somewhere and nopony was brandishing shanks.

Lucy held her tongue, though I saw she clearly wanted to say something about that. The law pony only grunted and stepped away from the bars with a flick of her tail, hooves stomping heavily on the floor.

“I’ve heard talk around town about the Blackhoof Gang. These Brothers are the leaders?” I asked, looking between the prisoners and the deputy, waiting for either to answer the question. It was the same pony who’d spoken up before who finally answered.

“Right ya are on that. They rode into town and saved us from th’ raiders, helped put out th’ fires they started. Took us in when nopony else would.” That was directed towards Lucy, who stomped a hoof in response. “ They protected us from th’ raiders till they could get us ta their hideout.” My ears perked at that; so they did know where the Blackhoofs made their camp.

“At least, at first...” Runner added, earning a few dark looks from his fellow prisoners and my sudden attention.

“At first?” I asked. Both my companions looked over to the thin pony, the orange mare smoking her cigarette lazily as Stone stood beside her, keeping a close eye on the ponies around us. Being as careful as always, at least when there wasn’t something to loot.

“Not many question ponies that save yer life. We all wanted ta think they was th’ real deal. Ponies out ta do th’ right thing,” Runner said, dropping down from the bars and onto his flanks. He snorted and looked away from us. “Ain’t anypony like that, though. We shoulda known better. Ah shoulda known better.”

Stone and Wild both looked over at me. By now I’d been forced to realize that ponies did not do the right thing when given the option. It was far easier to simply ignore it and get on with their own lives. I suppose if I’d been born on the surface and not in a stable I’d be the same way. I frowned and looked over the beaten, tired ponies behind the bars. Runner either did not see the look or didn’t pay it any attention as he went on.

“After a couple weeks they started talkin’ bout takin’ what was rightfully ours. That Tombstone had no right ta keep our food we worked so hard for and treatin’ us little better than th’ slaves some ponies keep. There’s always been grumblin’ over it; Ah reckon that’s just th’ way things are in th’ world. Just, nopony ever really said it quite like them, Ah reckon. Got ponies worked up like never before. It helped that we’d just lost several ta raiders and our homes,” he said, before Lucy finally spoke up again, though this time her voice was more level.

“Th’ food’s for the whole town and th’ surrondin’ settlements, Runner. If yer really from Southfield, ya should know that we use th’ food durin’ the storms ta feed everypony we take in. And we don’t treat ya any worse than any other pony in town. Ya lot always valued yer freedom more than being part of a larger community. Th’ mayor’s always respected that with th’ small settlements round town. As for raiders, if we’d known ya was under attack, th’ Sheriff woulda come ta yer aid. But none of yer messengers ever reached town, as far as Ah know.” The mare shook her head and sat down on the floor near the cell door. “And besides, we ain’t seen raiders round these parts for months, not since they started attackin’ caravans and smaller towns up north. Ain’t been no raiders south of Tombstone in awhile, so we ain’t had no reason ta worry or think they was anywhere closer than up th’ tracks northeast of here.”

“Says th’ pony livin’ behind th’ walls of a defended town. We ain’t got that sorta thing to hide behind in Southfields or a lotta ponies armed with fancy weapons and well-kept armor. As far as them raiders go, they came up from down south lookin’ for easy pickin’s,” the large loud stallion said with narrowed eyes on Lucy. “Ah suppose Ah’m just makin’ up the deaths of ponies Ah’ve known my whole life?”

“If raiders are coming up out of Caledonia, then it’s possible your patrols may not have seen them,” I said before anypony else could argue about it. “Do you send them anywhere near the border?” I asked the deputy. She shook her head and I pressed on. “Well, there’s a small possibility a small group of them could have gotten past.” This was mostly said to appease the prisoners so they’d hopefully keep talking. I agreed with the law mare; you knew if raiders were in the area. Raiders did not seem to rely on stealth and secrecy. They WANTED you to know they were around. Even a week above the surface made that very clear, painfully so.

“Ah reckon yer right on that, Marshall.” Inwardly I groaned as she called me that, but said nothing. “As for th’ Blackhoof’s, well, they ain’t exactly known for their kindness. Th’ few times they was allowed into town, they ended up causin’ all sorts of problems for th’ townsfolk. Startin’ fights, tryin’ ta force the saloon mares upstairs or into back allies. Th’ Mayor got fed up with ’em and banned ’em from comin’ back.” A couple of the prisoners appeared ready to defend their saviors but Runner spoke up first. Instead of arguing as one would expect, Runner grunted and nodded his head in agreement.

“Yer right, ma’am. We’d all heard th’ stories bout ’em, but most like myself just thought they was blown outta proportion.” The stallion shook his head sadly. “Ya gotta remember, they saved our lives, so that gave ’em a bit of say with us. Anyway, as Ah was sayin,’ nopony really questioned them at first. But after awhile Ah began ta notice some odd behavior around th’ town.” Town? The bandits had a town as a hideout? Well, that narrowed the list a bit. I’d have to talk with one of the deputies about any nearby abandoned towns. “Members of th’ gang would leave suddenly and return lookin’ like they’d just got inta one helluva fight, covered in soot and with a number of wounds. Another group would then head out ta finish off any survivors from th’ raiders and return with a family or group of ponies who’d been attacked by those surviving raiders afore th’ could be found.” I arched a brow to that.

“They said they’d just run into th’ band of raiders that attacked Southfield, an’ there was a lotta them., one of Runners cell mates said, though he hardly sound convinced of that fact.

“Every time they left town? Well, its possible, Ah reckon. But there was more than just that. Most of th’ time when th’ gang left th’ hideout with empty saddlebags and returned all banged up... well, their saddlebags weren’t empty no more. They was full of food and supplies.” I was beginning to see a pattern here, but Runner pressed on, “Then a couple ponies up and disappeared.” The Blackhoofs loudest defender spoke up at that.

“Ain’t nothin’ odd ‘bout that, Runner. Not all th’ ponies were happy there, ya’ said so yerself. Th’ brothers said they just left ta go elsewhere, is all.” Runner looked past me to the large prisoner behind me in his cell; both stallions seemed to be from the town of Southfield, by the sounds of it.

“Ah reckon so, Jack, but Ah personally knew a few of ’em that ‘left’. Only a couple ever said they thought of leavin’ and Ah know none of ’em woulda up and left their families behind.” The stallion stomped a hoof lightly. “Dammit Jack, ya know Goldy wouldn’t leave his wife while she’s pregnant.” Jack said nothing, and simply looked away from Runner as the orange pony went on.

“Then a few weeks ago, they started askin’ for ponies that wanted ta get what was theirs back. About half of th’ able-bodied stallions signed up for it; we was told our families would have more ta eat if we helped with gatherin’ food.” As we’d been speaking, I’d slowly began noticing an odd feeling creeping into my body, a cold dread. Especially when he’d mentioned families and foals. Now that feeling was building and I was finding it a bit hard to breathe as something sunk into place. “‘Course, most would. Ah’ve gotta wife and two foals ta think of, despite my thoughts on th’ gang.”

“Most of us here do,” Runner’s cellmate said again, looking sadly from the floor to the barred window above him.

“They told us their plan, that there was nowhere safe in Equestria for us no more, that we’d head down south ta Caledonian and find ourselves a nice bit of land and settle down. Said the ponies down there had a real workin’ gov’ment that cared for its citizens, unlike th’ distant Confederacy. Then they told us how we’d be gettin’ there. By robbin’ Tombstone’s bank and takin’ the supplies from th’ safe. Said we’d need ’em ta feed everypony, said it was no more than what th’ town deserved after leavin’ us ta die...”

“So... the ponies who attacked the town this morning weren’t all members of the gang?” Wild asked, ears perked towards the stallion.

“No, ma’am, we weren’t... only ‘bout five or six members of th’ gang actually came into town with us, and they stuck next ta their leader at th’ bank. They was in charge of th’ stagecoach that hauled th’ loot outta town. Th’ rest of us were supposed ta keep the remainin’ law ponies busy while they worked...”

Runner continued to speak, but I’d stopped listening to him. Stone had been right. They were nothing more than a group of desperate ponies out to try and feed their family. They had families, foals to look after, elderly. A town of desperate ponies who went to the only place they knew of for food. Talked into it by a group of outlaws who were likely taking advantage of them. Starving ponies that I had killed, leaving their foals fatherless in this hellish world of ours. Oh goddesses above, what had I done??

An orange hoof gently wrapped itself once more around my neck and I heard Wild saying something to the others before she began tugging me away from the cells. She pulled me through the still-open metal door and past the deputy cleaning his gun. He may have said something to us as we passed, but I didn’t really pay that much attention. My mind was fixed on what I’d learned just then. I’d killed ponies just looking for food. No. Nononononooo...

“Shadow?”

I should have know. I should have seen they weren’t bandits; they were certainly no raiders, yet I’d killed them as if they’d been. It could have been just as easily us doing that. If the Stable had broken down sooner, damaged the orchard somehow where we couldn’t grow food. We’d have been forced out into the wasteland to try and find somewhere to get food. What if Crossroads wouldn’t take in so many hungry mouths? Over two hundred hungry ponies, over a quarter of that number young foals. What would we have done? What would Ebony had done to make sure Sugar had food?

“Shadow...” the note of concern from my friend’s voice brought my attention back to the world around me. I blinked, tears at the corner of my eyes, and looked around, a bit lost, at my new surroundings. We were no longer inside the Sheriff's Office or even on the sidewalk outside. I shook my head and looked towards the narrow band of grey sky above me, the roofs of buildings on either side. Wild had pulled me into the alley between buildings, the mare looking at me with knowing blue eyes as I lowered my gaze back to my friend.

“Shadow, it was either you or them,” she said simply, an orange hoof on my shoulder. “If you hadn’t killed them, they would have killed you. I’ve seen the lengths a desperate pony will go to to stay alive. More times than I care to remember. Even done so myself at the order of my superiors. Desperate ponies will do things most can’t even think of, at least, not until they’re in their shoes. That's why there’re so many raiders in the wasteland.”

“I should have tried harder to get them to surrender. One did... maybe more would have if I’d tried...”

“...and then you’d be dead, Balefire would be dead, or any number of other ponies in this town would be dead and they would have still taken the food. When a pony’s that desperate, there’s little anypony can say to them to stop them. They’ve made up their minds that it’s the only way.” Her orange hoof lowered and settled back upon the dirt-covered ground of the alleyway. “And when that happens, innocent lives are lost on both sides.” I suddenly realized how similar this was to her own past.

She was right, of course. If I’d tried getting those ponies to surrender, we could have been killed and they would have still gotten away with the town’s supplies, and even more ponies would die. Desperate ponies are capable of doing anything if they believe it's their only hope. Rivets had believed she’d been doing the right thing for her home when she’d all but stabbed her own daughter and granddaughter in the back to take control of Steeldome.

Wild’s own past was a mirror image of Tombstone’s current situation. Two sides desperate for what little food there was to find in the wasteland. I looked up at my winged friend who watched me closely, head tilted to the side.

“You’re right, Wild... I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for caring enough about your fellow ponies to shed tears for them, Shadow. If more ponies did, then maybe the world wouldn’t be such a shitty place. You’ve done more good in the past week than most ponies will ever do in their entire short lives. That's something to be proud off, but this was bound to happen sooner or later.” Her blue eyes slide from my face to the grey overcast sky above, “Now, it's up to you to decide what happens next. Do you give up, or do you do something about it?”

Give up? Wait on the odd pony to fix the train and leave Tombstone to fix their own problems? Just follow the tracks to San Ponsisco and never look back? No. That wasn’t something I think I could do; it wasn’t me. It wasn’t how mom and dad raised us. How could I look my niece in the eyes and tell her about her mother and how her uncle had left foals just like her to starve to death in the coming winter? Ebony would not want me to just give up... she’d likely yank the covers off my bed and me along with them, and administer some tough love. A noise from the end of the alleyway caught both our attentions and we turned to see somepony standing in the opening.

It was Stonehoof along with Deputy Lucy. The pair had left the Sheriff’s Office and had no doubt come looking for us. My friend looked worriedly towards me; no doubt he’d caught on to why Wild was dragging me away. The pegasus looked from me to her lover and stood to move over towards him, giving the earth pony a gentle nuzzle to the cheek before sitting down beside him. It seemed enough to relax my stoic friend as he smiled slightly to his mare before looking back over to me. For her part, Lucy simply stood behind the pair, hat perched atop her green mane and trying to appear as if she wasn’t intruding on our problems.

“Th’ Deputy’s gonna go talk with th’ mayor ‘bout what she’s learned. She thinks he might know where th’ gang’s hidin’ at,” Stone said after a few more seconds of silence from everypony present. I stood up and walked out of the alleyway and back into the slightly brighter streets of Tombstone. Ponies had at last left the safety of their homes to begin their day of running errands or repairing the damage to their town. A bright pink mare led a group of young foals through the street and off towards the edge of town, where an old, red, three-story building with white trim stood.

What do I do now?

“Alright, we’ll need to know as much as we can on this town they’re holed up in, if we’re going to get Tombstone’s supplies back for them.” Wild smiled from beside Stone and nodded her head. My large friend smirked and lightly slapped my shoulder with one of his hooves (which for him was not so light).

“Somehow, Ah figured that’s what ya’d say.”

I turned and looked to the Deputy who was also smiling and shaking her head slowly.

“Ah c’n see th’ Sheriff was right about ya, Marshall... now, let’s go get ya what ya need ta help us out.” Without another word or look, she stood up and set off across the now busy street towards the bank. By this time, most of the ponies who’d been milling around out front of the stone building had either gone on home to their families or off to whatever business they’d been originally out for.

Stone and Wild set off beside after me as we trotted between a few wagons hauling broken furniture and doors to somewhere else in town, perhaps to be fixed or reused. Despite my brave words and show, my mind was still troubled by what had happened this morning.

With the raiders there’d been no doubt to their crimes. Rape, murder, kidnapping, and cannibalism were just the start of what they’d done to their fellow ponies and anyone else unlucky enough to come within reach. I somehow doubted that those mad ponies would give a shit about their own kin. Hell, for all I know they ate their young. I’d been doing the world a favor by removing them from it. But these bandits...

Well, they had made their choices and so had I, and now we each had to live with the results (a small part of my mind pointed out that I’d be the one doing most of the living, but it was quickly hushed and tossed back where it belonged). Wild was right; it was bound to happen sooner or later out here in this new world I found myself in. One might say, better now than later in the heat of battle. But, would that really help? Would it ever get easier? Celestia and Luna above... I hope not.

Approaching the bank, I saw it was still in much the same state as it had been when I’d last seen it that morning. The bullet-riddled wagon was still parked out front, laying on half broken wheels. I doubted very much anypony would be pulling that away to be repaired or recycled. Looking past it to the bank, I saw the stone columns and broken windows still looked the same, along with the front doors that lay open, hoof prints clearly visible upon them.

Walking around the wagon, I spotted pieces of broken glass littering the wooden sidewalk beside the building from the number of broken windows above. There were also several dark crimson stains under the shards of glass, where ponies had laid and likely died that morning. Nearing the wide open doors of the bank, my thoughts darkened once more. Lucy spoke to the two deputies standing watch outside. Wild gave me a reassuring nudge with her flank as we waited for the law ponies to discuss allowing us entrance to the bank. The pair guarding the door looked my friends and I over before finally stepping aside to allow us entrance to the building.

Walking up the stone steps and through the door, I got a better look at the entranceway to the old building. The broken furniture and glass still littered the floor, along with spent shell casings and blood stains. The teller's window at the back was all but ruined, with only a single pane of glass remaining near one end, which, oddly, was etched with the symbol of money surrounded by leaves. Now that I had the time to look, I saw the walls were in fact covered with a light yellow wallpaper, with small white flowers running along it. The odd photo or landscape picture hung over the yellow walls, often times at odd angles due to the fighting, a few cracked from rounds striking them or hitting the wall nearby. There were ponies inside as well, five in total but only two I recalled from that morning.

The first was the stallion who I’d last seen in the back of the bank that morning. Without the threat of a bullet striking me or bandits escaping, I sized the pony up. He was obviously the owner of the bank, judging by the fine clothing he wore and how well groomed he appeared. In fact he reminded me very much of photos I’d seen in school and old books of Canterlot. He was an earth pony with a tan colored coat and black greyish mane and tail, wearing a black jacket with a white collar and tie. His cutie mark was the same symbol I’d seen in the glass pane, a money sign. As we entered, he looked up from his talk with another pony, blue green eyes sizing me up before he seemed to just as quickly ignore me.

Standing beside the stallion was the other pony I’d seen during the fight, the mare. Her pure white coat stood out brightly against the drab colored ponies around her, and her short cut purple mane and tail were as well groomed as the bank owner’s beside her. She was a unicorn, the slender ivory spiral horn rising up between her purple bangs being clear enough to see. Like her male counterpart, she wore a smaller black jacket that just drew the eye to her white coat. A gold necklace hung around her narrow neck, a gold pendant laying against her chest. Her cutie mark was of a quill and scroll. Lavender eyes shifted from the others to my friends and I as we entered, but unlike the stallion I saw a look of recognition in her eyes as they stopped on me. A small smile formed across her lips and she mouthed the words ‘thank you’ before being forced back to the conversation by the buck.

The remaining ponies inside the bank I did not know, two of them were deputies, evident by the silver stars on their worn vests as well as the armor and weapons they wore. They gave us a quick look as we entered the building, but upon seeing Lucy, they calmed and went back to searching the room. For what, I’m not sure, perhaps collecting evidence or looking for clues. It was the third pony however, who caught my attention. He’d been speaking with the bank owner and his assistant when we’d entered; now, however, as our hoof steps echoed in the quiet room, he turned to look over his shoulder at us.

The stallion stood no taller than I, with an average build. He was an earth pony with a darker brown coat and a white mane and tail. He had a rugged face with a few old marks and scars upon his cheek and jaw; whether from battle or just hard living was unclear. Like the banker, he too wore a black jacket. His, however, had a much more lived-in appearance, with worn patches repairing old rips and tears. Most unusual of all was the black top hat the pony wore atop his short white mane. Like the jacket, it had clearly seen far better days, but somehow it managed to still retain its shape and stately appearance. A narrow red band circled the stovepipe-like hat. Grey green eyes quickly approached me and my friends before a warm, kind smile broke across his face.

“If you folks can just wait for a few minutes, I’ll be more than happy to speak with you once I’ve finished here with Mr. Rich and Miss Cloudbank.” He had a voice that reminded me of my dear old uncle who had passed away a few months after I turned seven. So, this was Tombstone’s mayor? Deputy Lucy stepped past my friends and I to catch the stallion’s attention.

“Mr Mayor, Ah’m afraid this here’s a might important.” The mayor turned his gaze to the deputy, then back to us, before he finally nodded to Lucy and waved a hoof for her to join them. As she trotted over, Stone and Wild simply sat down to wait our turn to speak with the pony in charge.

As Lucy spoke with the mayor, and my friends spoke among themselves, I quietly wandered over towards the open vault door and the room beyond it. The large steel door reminded me quite a bit of a stable door: large, thick, and gear shaped. Unlike the doorway to my former home, this one did not slide inwards and roll out of the way inside the wall itself. It swung open on massive hinges, and appeared locked and opened by a simple lever and control pad for the combination. There were also no white numbers stretched across the front. For a moment, I wondered how my old home was doing.

Stepping over the threshold of the door, I moved inside the vault itself and was once more reminded of home. Cold, grey steel walls loomed all around me up to the ceiling, which was also encased in steel. Like my home, there were rows of light panels running across the ceiling, casting a warm, white glow over the room. On either side of me were safe deposit boxes and cabinets for ponies’ personal possessions to be stored. Most had been forced open, their doors hanging loosely from broken hinges and their contents spilled out across the floor.

Most of what was left behind appeared to be largely junk, or at least to anypony but the owner. Odd bits of metal, old toys and the occasional photo album made up much of the litter. There was even a statue of a purple unicorn mare laying on the floor. I arched a brow thoughtfully at the familiar looking miniature pony, thinking I had seen her somewhere before. Mostly she seemed lonely. It was odd to think of a small statue as being lonely, but looking at her... well, something told me she belonged with somepony else and with her friends.

Stepping over the litter and bits of personal affects, I lifted the tiny unicorn mare up off the floor and sat her up. For a moment I thought about taking her, but she was not mine to take, and so reluctantly I turned away to look over the rest of the scattered items. Some of them looked as old as the town, and likely had been left behind by the original inhabitants of the town. Or were these the descendants of those ponies? I’d never really gotten the history of the town, but I suppose that would be a bit pointless, really. Anything the bandits could use had likely been taken along with the town’s supplies.

The supplies that were left were pitifully few. A few wooden crates mixed with old pre-war canned food and, judging by the wrappers, military rations. Enough food for several dozen ponies to live off of for a few months, maybe a year if stretched. There were over three times that number living in Tombstone, perhaps more. And by the sounds of it, they could expect a fair number more to arrive during the beginning of winter. Whether they’d intended to do so or not, the bandits had killed the ponies of Tombstone as sure as if they’d pulled the trigger of a gun. I was quite sure the Blackhoof Brothers knew what they’d done, just as I was sure they’d likely not be helping out the ponies they’d taken in.

As I was about to turn around and rejoin the others out in the bank, another steel door caught my eye, this one tucked away in the side of the room, between rows of deposit boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling. It was smaller than the vault’s door, but no less impressive, with a number of locks and number pads. It also looked somehow newer than the vault around it. Odd.

A quick look told me the mayor was still speaking with Lucy, and that Stone and Wild had also become involved with the conversion. The bank owner and his assistant looked over their business and spoke to one another. I decided I had a bit more time to check out this door within the vault. Turning, I trotted over towards it, hooves stepping carefully over the personal effects of the townsfolk or their ancestors. As I drew closer, I saw the door was slightly ajar and reached a hoof up to pull it open.

It sung slowly on its hinges, as it slowed to a halt, it appeared large enough for two ponies to walk through side by side and almost as tall as the ceiling. Beyond it, was a rather plain simple looking room, almost a closet really. Like the vault, it was lit by overhead light panels that ran the length of the small room and hummed softly. But that was it. There was nothing else inside the room. No safe deposit boxes, no spilled litter or stacked crates of food. There was just... nothing. Four walls, a ceiling, and floor. I placed a single hoof inside the room, as I leaned in to look more closely.

As I placed a second hoof inside, something quite unexpected happened. A deep, unsettling laugh seemed to come from the very air itself. I hurriedly stepped back from the room, ears laying flat against my skull as I looked for the source of that almost demonic laugh. My entire body shook, and I felt a chill run down my spine.

Just you wait, my little pony... we’re going to have such fun, you and I...

What the fuck was THAT? The room was once more silent, save for the beating of my heart. I looked inside the room and for a moment thought I saw an oddly-shaped face staring back at me with twisted horns and mad eyes. I blinked and the face vanished, leaving me to wonder if I’d even really seen it. Hoofsteps behind me caused me to hurriedly turn around, perhaps expecting whatever had made that laugh to be there, but it was only Stone.

“Everythin’ alright Shadow?” my friend asked, concern clear in his voice and face as I turned back to look over my shoulder at him.

“You didn’t hear that?” I asked. I looked back towards the small room, but heard only the sound of hoof steps approaching us. Stone stepped up beside me and stared into the small room, ears perked up in the holes of his hat, but after several moments he shook his head and looked over to me.

“Can’t say Ah did... did ya hear somethin’?” my friend asked me, a note of concern in his voice. Perhaps he was thinking the wasteland and everything that had happened over the past week was finally getting to me. Was he right? I began to ask myself the same question. What had I heard? Or did I even really hear it? Was it possible Ebony’s death and all the horrors I’d seen had finally caused something inside me to snap? Or by asking myself if I was crazy, did that mean I wasn’t?

I opened my mouth to try and explain what I’d heard when a pair of voices cut me off. I turned my head to look back over my shoulder as the mayor and the bank owner walked into the vault side by side. Behind them I saw Lucy, Wild, and the banker’s assistant standing around speaking to one another.

“... they left most of your books and charts, Mr. Mayor,” the bank owner was saying. The tan colored stallion turned and noticed the vault was not as empty as he’d expected it. I supposed no one but Stone had noticed me slip away. The pony stopped and was about to say something (judging by the looks we were getting it would be nothing nice) when his eyes passed from us to the open door behind us. His blue eyes widened in surprise and he took several steps forward past the mayor. “How’d you get that open?!” He nearly knocked us over as he rushed past us to gaze longingly at the open door and the empty room beyond it.

His sudden shout had drawn the attention of the mares outside the vault, and they hurriedly stepped in to see what was going on. Wild looked from the door to the two of us, a brow arched over her blue eyes. Stone could merely shrug his shoulders and motion with his head towards me; all I could do was grin foolishly. Well, don’t look at me! I turned back to look at the bank owner, who had now been joined by his assistant, both staring in wonder at the room I’d seemingly discovered.

I found the creepy-ass voice room. Huzzah for me.

“Excuse me?” I looked between everypony present and then to the odd little room with its very open door. “I didn’t open it... it was already open when I stepped inside the Vault. I just walked over to see what was inside,” I hurriedly explained as I took a few steps back, giving the banker his room. Even the mayor seemed interested in the open door and stepped over to look across everypony else's shoulder.

“Impossible... this room hasn’t been opened in over a hundred and fifty years, according to what records we have that survived... possibly more!” the banker said, tearing his eyes away from the empty room to look over at me. Judging by the look I was getting, he clearly thought I was lying to him about this (or maybe it was just how he looked at everypony or just how he always looked; the guy didn’t seem overly friendly). “Nopony who’s ever tried has managed to open the door,” he said, tapping a hoof against the door as if to make a point. “Not even my family, who have run this bank ever since Tombstone was resettled a hundred years ago, have managed to find any way to open it.”

“Perhaps th’ bandits did somethin’ ta it then,” Stone suggested. The banker ignored him and stepped over towards me, eyes narrowed a bit as he drew himself up. If he was attempting to intimidate me, he was going to have to do a better job of it.

“Did you find anything inside?” the odd pony’s mood changed so rapidly I looked over to Stone and the mayor. He sounded so worked up over it, as if it was his life's goal to discover what was inside. Hell, perhaps it was... everypony needed a hobby. The mayor laid a hoof upon the tan stallion’s shoulder and smiled when he looked back to him.

“I didn’t find anything. The room was empty.” Well, save for a creepy laugh. Luckily Stone kept silent about me claiming to hear something from the room.

“Nothing? I find it hard to believe anypony would go to such lengths to keep a door shut just to leave the room behind it empty.” He turned away from the mayor to once more lock his blue eyes on me, narrowing them as he fixed me with a withering stare.

I snorted and returned his stare, stomping my front right hoof into the concrete floor of the vault as I held my ground Why, that little uptight asshole... I risked my life to save him and his assistant from the bandits and he’s accusing me of stealing something? I was already in a foul enough mood after learning who the bandits really were and here this little prick was worried about some secret chamber? I was about to tell him where he could go buck himself when the mayor hurriedly stepped between us, a smile on his face as he turned to the banker.

“Now, Very, we all know you’ve been trying for years to open that door, but it's always been a possibility there’d be nothing inside,” he said, placing a hoof on the banker’s shoulder and turning him away from me and back towards the room itself. I perked my ears a bit and wondered what he was trying to do. “Of course, your father, Celestia rest his soul, always suspected there could be a hidden safe or something within the room. Mr. Rich and I shared many a meal talking about what was behind that door, and he was convinced if it was empty, there’d be something hidden behind the walls.”

Once more the odd little pony’s (whose name seemed to be Very Rich, but I was hardly one to talk: my parents had named my sister and I after our coats colors) demeanor changed and he perked right up. Looking with sudden renewed interest at the four walls and ceiling of the room, he quickly whistled for his assistant to go fetch him something from his desk in the back. The slender unicorn mare hurriedly rushed off to fetch whatever her boss had requested and it seemed the perfect time to escape.

The mayor took several steps back from the obsessive pony as he began talking to himself about what the government would hide in a hidden wall safe. With Very distracted, the mayor scooped up a couple rolled pieces of paper from the floor near an open deposit box and waved a hoof for us to follow. Together we beat a hasty retreat from the bank's vault. We worked our way back around the tellers booths and desks back out into the entrance room of the bank. The mayor trotted over through the damaged furniture of the morning's fight to a largely intact table that was still up right.

“I must apologize for Very’s reaction to the open door. You see, for as long as his family has run the bank here in Tombstone, they have searched for a way to open that vault door. It was something of an obsession for the town's founders, especially when it was learned it was once used by the government to hold some secret artifact or another,” the mayor said with a smile towards my friends and I. The stallion sat the rolled up papers down atop the table and began unrolling them one at a time. Wild arched a brow and looked back to the open Vault door as he worked.

“So, do you really think there’s a hidden safe in the room?” she asked, to which the mayor immediately began chuckling and brought the mare’s focus back around to him with a tilted head.

“Oh Celestia no, I just wanted to keep him busy so we could speak.” Unrolling another paper, the mayor's eyes widened and he smiled happily. “Ah, here we are.” Placing his forehooves upon the roll, he pushed them back and a map of western Equestria began to come into view. It was similar to the one we had back in the Stable, however this one had been updated with more recent changes to the countryside. He waved us forward, and we crowded around the table and the map he had on display.

It was quite old and showed the pre-war names of dozens of cities, small towns and settlements. San Ponsisco, Las Pegasus, Las Haygas, Salt Lick City, and even Kanter City were marked out in small black stars with a number of black, red, and blue lines running to each: rail Lines, highways and old country roads. The border to Caledonia appeared as a long thin green line running from west to east across the lower half of the map, and the country itself was colored in by a slightly darker shade of green. I noticed the line was quite close to the small dot of Tombstone. There were other markers on the map, of rivers, forests, and mountains ranges, that seemed to surround most of the area in a ring of obstacles. I doubted much of the forests remained, judging by what I’d seen of trees. The rivers were likely little more then dried up channels of sludge. Thoughts of that old map back in the stable, and long nights spent pouring over details with my sister returned.

Before my thoughts could wander to my lost sibling, the mayor’s brown hoof tapped the paper map near the green line and several miles away from Tombstone in an area largely devoid of roads or signs of equine habitation. As he lifted his hoof, I saw a small black dot in the spot he had tapped, marking a small town called Oddwick, near the base of a small mountain range that ran into Caledonia.

“This would be the most likely spot where the Blackhoof Gang are holed up, judging from what Lucy told me the bandits in our jail said, and taking into account the fact it’s far enough away our patrols do not go near there.”

“Why’s that, Mr Mayor?” I asked, looking at the small dot on the map. The mayor turned to me and smiled.

“Just call me Ab, son. I hear Mr. Mayor enough from the ponies around town,” he chuckled softly before looking back to the map. “About ten years ago, a group of ponies from Tombstone was looking to expand our farming and mining resources into the mountains there. We’d been trading iron and other minerals we’d found in the old mines with San Ponsisco for a while, and according to the town’s records, Oddwick was a pre-war mining town. Well, back then we had a lot more raider activity this far south than we do now. Raiders wandered the countryside, randomly attacking towns wherever they found them. After they were attacked for the sixth time, the survivors returned to Tombstone reluctantly, but we simply did not have the power to protect so much ground.”

“So, it’d be a good place to hide out if you were attempting to keep clear of the local Sheriff,” Wild said, looking over the distance between Tombstone and Oddwick. It’d take ponies on hoof or by wagon a day or two to cross the open plains to just reach the mountains. The mayor nodded his head and went on to explain.

“In the short time they lived there, the settlers had repaired many of the town's old buildings, enough so ponies could live comfortably. They’d not need to worry much about fixing it up, since most of the work would have been done for them, and the Blackhoof’s aren’t about to do any more work then they have too.”

“And nopony’s ever gone out there lookin’ fer th’ gang?” Stone asked, looking up from the map to the mayor.

“No, mostly because we’ve not had any reason too. After we banned them from coming back into town, the gang simply vanished. We’d thought perhaps they’ve moved on to San Ponsisco or maybe across the border. They were a minor annoyance, one we thought had been dealt with.” He sighed and shook his head. “I never would have expected them to raise a small army and attack Tombstone directly.”

“It's hard to know what desperate ponies will do, Ab,” I said, looking over to Wild, and offering my winged friend a smile. “Somepony smarter than me said it's best not to think on what could be, but what we can do.”

“Hmm, you have a wise friend. So, you and your friends are really going to try and bring back the town’s stolen supplies?” he asked. “No asking for caps, or taking some of the supplies for yourselves?”

“I don’t see the point in asking to be paid to do what's right, Mr. Mayor,” I said, looking from the map to the mayor. “My focus is on getting to my niece in San Ponsisco and taking care of her, not becoming a mercenary or something. Still, I can’t just turn my back on so many ponies in need of assistance. What sort of pony would I be if I did that?”

“You’d be like any other pony alive in the wasteland today, son,” the mayor said, dropping down from the table. He looked me over closely and smiled. “I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised. My Sweet is a rather good judge of character and she was right about you, Shadow. You really are a good pony.” He held up a hoof to me, and I took it, shaking it.

“Just trying to help where I can.”

“Well, least we can do is return the favor. I’ll speak with the local store owners and anything you need for your trip to Oddwick is on the house. I’ll also ask Ol’ Hank over at the Drunken Mare to send me the bill for your rooms.”

“Sir, I can’t ask you to...” I started to say before Wild stepped up beside me and bumped me a bit.

“What he means to say is, do you think you can ask him for a couple bottles of Wild Pegasus for the trip to San Ponsisco?” she asked with wide, hopeful eyes. Stone snorted and shook his head, but the mayor simply chuckled.

“I’ll see what I can do, ma’am.”

With the promise of more boozes for my winged friend and many a sleepless night for Stone on the trip west, we planned our more immediate trip down south, to the bandit town of Oddwick. Wild pointed out we’d be there just before nightfall if we traveled by air and left within the next hour. With the mayor’s knowledge of his town's shops and the supplies they offered, we quickly got a list together of the things we’d need. Lucy volunteered to send one of the deputies off to fill it, while we gathered up our friends. With little else to say, we turned and started for the door, the map on my Pipbuck updating itself with the locations of several places shown on the mayor's map, along with our destination, making getting there a good deal easier.

Stepping out from the bank, I took several steps away from the large stone building and took a deep breath of the humid wasteland air. It felt oddly good to get out of the building. Even while we’d been planning the journey south, the odd voice I’d heard had continued to trouble me. Turning back, I looked over the shattered windows and bullet riddled columns of the building. Had it all been in my head? Or did I really hear something inside that vault? My mind snapped back to the present as Wild’s voice broke the sudden silence that had fallen over us.

“So, we’re really going to do this, eh?” Wild asked, sitting down and scanning the surrounding ponies as they walked past us. Deputy Lucy and one of the other lawponies stepped out of the bank a few seconds after us. The mare headed back across the street towards the Sheriff’s Office as the other deputy made his way towards the row of shops and saloons down the street.

“Yes I am,” I said, looking over each of my two friends before continuing. “Doesn’t mean you guys have to follow me, though.” Wild rolled her eyes and Stone simply chuckled.

“We ain’t got nothin’ else planned for th’ day, actually.”

“I suppose he’s right. I mean, I need to let him get a little bit more rest before I drag him back to bed. After all, you bucks need some time to recharge your...” a grey hoof was quickly shoved into her mouth before she could go on.

“Ah think he gets th’ idea, Wild,” Stone said, eyeing the mare with slightly narrowed green eyes. “Likely more than he wants, Ah reckon.” He lowered his hoof back to the ground and the pegasus stood up, rustling her feathers.

“Oh, you're no fun...” she flapped her wings and slowly began rising into the air a few inches above the hard packed dirt road. “I’ll go check on the chariot and get it ready to go as soon as you're ready, Shadow.” With a wink to Stone, Wild gave a quick flap of her wings and shot off towards the train station.

“I’ll go check in on Spirit and the others. Why don’t you see if you can find Carrion. We’ll likely need all the help we can get with this if we’re going up against twenty armed ponies and possibly a group of raiders,” I said as I turned to Stone. The stallion looked away from Wild’s retreating backside to me and nodded.

“Alright, Ah reckon Ah can rustle ’em up. Think he’s still out helpin’ the locals with their defences. Wall should be a good place ta start.” Without another word, he set off down the road that lead back into the center of town leaving me alone with my thoughts once more.

Again I glanced back to the building we’d all left and stood up to face it. After several moments of nothing happening, I shrugged it off and hurriedly went down the street a ways towards the Drunken Mare. Stepping up onto the porch, it appeared the saloon was not as busy as it had been the night before. Not surprising, really; ponies worked or slept during the day and drank themselves into a stupor at night. The main room was largely empty, save for a few locals drinking their troubles and the morning fight away at the bar. A radio I’d missed the night before was blaring loudly near the end of the bar with a familiar sounding voice.

“... and while we can’t be completely sure what's become of the settlement of New Hope I doubt it was anything good. So, if anypony’s got the balls or the guns and you're in the neighborhood, why don’t ya pop on in and see what's going on with those folks and let ol’ Three Horns know if she’s still got listeners up north.”

More shity news, but it seemed that was all there was in the wasteland; bad news and worse news. I frowned and looked away from the bar to the stairs and the buffalo stepping down them, a couple bowls balanced on her back. Once more I was amazed at how little noise she made despite her large size, and that she managed to keep so much from being jostled about by the climb down the rickety old stairs of the saloon. Most of the patrons ignored her as she moved past their table or down the bar towards me.

“Shadow, it is good to see you are up and about. That was quite the bump to the head you took,” the kind medically-trained buffalo said, smiling over at me as she walked towards the end of the bar and a middle aged stallion standing behind it. He’d likely just stepped out from the closing door behind the bar just seconds ago. I offered him a nod before I turned back to Spirit.

“Thanks, Spirit. When you have a moment I need to speak to you about something. Shouldn’t take long.” She likely had her hooves full taking care of those we’d saved and the wounded townsfolk. I supposed that could also explain the town doctor’s poor bedside manner... or, more likely, he was just an ass, maybe on his mother's side?

“Need fresh water, doc?” the pony behind the bar asked. He did not look familiar, but then,I hadn’t gotten to know many of the townsfolk well before the morning's gunfight. He had a brownish red coat over which he wore a black vest and cowpony hat. A red bandana was tied about his neck, his mane was a dark steel grey color and cut short. Green eyes traveled from Spirit to me as I followed the buffalo to the bar, “Well, is this th’ hero of th’ hour then? Th’ Marshall himself?” Ugh, not this again. Before I knew it, the pony had moved around the bar and stepped towards me. He was a bit taller then me, but not by much. He wiped a hoof on his vest before reaching out to take one of mine and shake it firmly.

“Name’s Hank; most call me Ol’ Hank on account Ah’m old, Ah reckon. Pleasure ta make yer acquaintance, sir. Big fan of yer work.”

“My work?” I asked as I managed to free my hoof from the stallions strong grip and smiled politely to the bar owner. A fan? I was at a bit of a loss how to react to that.

“Why, Ah’ve been hearin’ tell of yer adventures in and around Kanter City from th’ ponies ya saved. Nothin’ but nice things they’ve got ta say about ya,” Hank said loudly enough that most of the other townsfolk at the bar and the surrounding tables started looking over at us with a bit of interest. “And Spirit here was tellin’ me a little about where yer tryin’ ta get ta. San Ponsisco.”

“Yes, well, just doing what anypony would do.” Spirit meanwhile had moved past the bar and through the kitchen doorway to retrieve fresh water and left me alone with Hank. “I was speaking with a pony here last night about the tracks ahead; he said they should be clear enough for us to make it. He’d traveled that way with a partner before the raiders started making the trip more risky for a couple of ponies on a hoof cart. We’ll be heading out that way as soon as our business in town is finished. That is if, Doc Brown can get the engine back up and running.” The crazed stallion had seemed a bit odd, and I ideally worried he’d end up blowing the train up rather then fix it.

“Ya spoke ta Pete then? Good feller, knows those tracks like th’ back of his own hoof. And Ah wouldn’t worry ta much about th’ good Doctor, he’s been fixin’ things up around town for awhile now, ain’t nopony better at it.”

“So I hear...” I looked around the bar room once more for any sign of Kanzi or her family. “Is everyone doing alright then?” I asked. Hank’s ears twitched as he caught my meaning and smiled.

“They're all doin’ good upstairs with Spirit. Ah must admit, her assistant is a looker. Used ta run with a couple mares with th’ same coat style when Ah was travelin’ th’ wasteland in my youth,” the bar owner chuckled and sat down beside his bar. “Them were th’ days, let me tell ya. I envy ya a bit in that.”

Envy? Traveling the wasteland? First it was the odd stallion living in the train depot’s repair shop... then there was the mad doctor and the fanatical banker... and now a pony who seems to think traveling around the wasteland is fun. Was everypony in this town crazy?!

“Thanks for letting them stay. The Sheriff had told us they may have trouble finding a place to take them in around here,” I said. Despite my personal opinion on the pony’s sanity, he had helped out the ponies and zebras I had rescued.

“Sadly, she ain’t far wrong in that. Ah lost a couple customers when they showed up this mornin’, but ain’t no hide off my snout.” Just then, Spirit pushed open the kitchen door and stepped back out without the bowls balancing across her back. The buffalo moved over towards Hank and myself, and the bar owner smiled once more to her and tipped his hat back. “Everythin’ okay Doc?”

“The cook's assistant said she would retrieve fresh water from the well for me. The ponies in your employment are quiet polite and skilled, Mr. Hank,” she said, bowing her head respectively to the pony before turning her gaze to me. “And you had something you wished to speak to me about, Shadow?”

“Yes, we believe we’ve discovered where the bandits who attacked this morning are hiding. Stone, Wild, possibly Carrion, and myself will be leaving shortly to fly out there and check it out. We’re hoping to catch them there before they slip away across the border into Caledonia,” I answered, sitting down near the bar and removing my hat. It was surprisingly warm in the saloon, and I ran a hoof through my damp mane.

“Shouldn’t ya’ll perhaps be takin’ a few more hooves ta help? From what Ah heard, that band of robbers ain’t exactly a small group,” Hank asked as he returned behind the bar and poured me something to drink into a glass. Upon looking I saw it was just water and I happily took it and downed it in one gulp. Spirit answered while I got some much needed relief.

“From what I have seen these four ponies do, I do not believe they will require much more help than what they are taking. Still, it would be wise to at least seek the local law enforcement ponies for assistance with this,” Spirit finished, turning her gaze on me, horned head cocked to one side. I shook my head in return and explained.

“We’ve already spoken with the mayor and the deputy in charge of town while the Sheriff is away. There’s simply nopony to spare from town, since the deputies are stretched thin as it is with the Sheriff and those that went with her still missing.” Once more Hank jumped into the conversation.

“Them griffons flew off lookin’ for th’ good Sheriff and her team, so Ah reckon they’ll be back in no time.” He refilled my glass with water and pushed it back over towards me. “Ah’m sure th’ town can spare a few of th’ local guards ta go with ya.”

“Actually no,” I responded, picking up the offered drink and swallowing it more slowly this time, “They’re needed here, in case the stories of raider activity to the south of Tombstone turns out to be true.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Spirit about to say something but held up my hoof to stop her. I had a feeling I knew what she was about to say, “As much as I’d like your help with this, I think the wounded here need your services far more then we will.” At least at the moment, I added silently. If the numbers were right, we’d be far outnumbered. But then, when has that stopped me thus far?

“You are right, of course. I dare not leave the good Doctor with so many injured ponies, for he has only two nurses to assist him,” she began as I took a slow sip of my drink. “However, I was about to suggest you seek out Balefire’s assistance. Though young and brash, he seems well skilled in the art of killing.”

She had a point... during the gunfight he’d more than pulled his weight with the bandits. He’d spoken of being a part of the Confederate Army, though I imagined his lack of discipline was the reason he’d been captured by raiders in the first place. Perhaps he was a bit brash, as she had said, but then so was any stallion at his age: ready to take on the world and whatever it threw at him. At least he was somepony I’d already fought with before and knew at least well enough to trust.

“Also, if you do not take him with you on this mission, I believe I may be forced to geld him for his own good, or otherwise he shall sire a dozen foals.”

I’d been finishing my drink when she’d said that, and ended up spraying the floor with much of it. Behind the bar, Hank roared loudly with laughter at either Spirit’s matter of fact statement or my reaction to it. Perhaps both. Thankfully, the ever vigilant medic began slapping me upon my back as I gasped for air. Well, with something like that, I had to take the poor buck with us.

“Alright, alright, I’m fine...” I said between coughing and clearing my throat, waving a hoof at the buffalo hovering over me. “I’ll see if I can find him before we leave town. I’d rather not take too many with us; if we’re going to have any hope of getting those supplies back to town we’ll need as much room inside the chariot as we can manage.” I suppose if it came down to it, Stone and I could haul the stuff out in a normal wheeled wagon, if we could get our hooves on one in the bandit’s town.

“So, let me get this straight... yer just gonna waltz inta their hideout, take out all them bandits, rescue th’ supplies they stole and fly ’em back here ta Tombstone? As pretty as ya please?” Hank asked, and by now several of his patrons were paying more attention to us. I nodded my head in answer, and the pony whistled as he shook his head. “Well, Ah reckon yer reputation is bein’ well deserved there, Marshall. Not many ponies have th’ balls ta do what yer about ta.” I heard murmured comments from many of the ponies around us and I hurriedly explained it was not going to be that simple, or perhaps that one-sided.

“From what I’ve heard of their hideout, the bandits there come and go quite often, either on scavenging missions or just to rob other settlements around them. If we’re quick, we may just catch them while a number of the gang are away on one of these gathering missions. If so, we’ll not have to deal with that many.” It was a long shot, but I was also hoping we might find a way into the town secretly or perhaps talk some sense into the ponies assisting the Blackhoof gang. I had to at least try and save as many of the more innocent ponies as I could. Still, we wouldn’t know what we’d be up against until we got there and saw the place for ourselves.

A mare from the kitchen stepped out and waved a hoof towards Spirit to come on back. The buffalo nodded her horned head and rose to follow, but stopped and looked over to me, placing a hoof upon my shoulder.

“And from what your companions have told me, there is little chance of talking you out of this, so instead I shall wish you and your friends luck, Shadow. May both our ancestors watch over you.” With that, she turned and followed the mare back into the kitchen, the door shutting behind them.

“Ah think Ah can safely say that goes double for everypony in this here town,” Hank said, starting to refill my glass once more until I waved a hoof at him to not bother with it. It was going to be a long flight, and we’d not have time to make a pit stop.

The sky beyond the open doors of the chariot darkened slightly as the sun, hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, lazily dropped below the distant unseen horizon. The cooling night air that flowed through those doors was a relief from the hot humid day, and the mood within the chariot was relaxed, despite the fact we were likely heading towards another fight. But then, it was starting to become the norm for the ponies I shared the chariot with. Since the moment we’d all meet, we’d been fighting raiders, mutant wildlife, or a mix of the two. I turned away from the darkening wasteland to look over those ponies traveling with me.

As always, my eyes fell upon the first pony I’d met after leaving my home behind. Stonehoof sat across the passenger compartment from me, working on something he’d pulled from his saddlebags. A couple pieces of scrap metal and wiring along with a couple of tools sat beside him on the seat, his hooves working gently on the dull brown metal. I’d never seen him work on it before, and idly wondered what he was making. Normally he spent the time between fights caring for his trusted hunting rifle. I suppose it could have just been nothing more than a way to pass the time. As I’d said back in Tombstone, everypony needed a hobby.

What was mine? Getting in trouble? Killing raiders? Saving ponies? I shook my head slowly and looked back to my grey coated friend and his quiet work. As he was working, he spoke quietly with Wild through the chariot’s headset, often times snorting loudly or shaking his head at something the mare said, but despite it all, he wore a contented smile. Out of respect for my friends and the new couple's privacy, I’d switched my headset off and allowed them time to talk among themselves. I looked away from him and over the other two within the chariot.

Near the rear of the passenger compartment sat Carrion. The ghoul had not said much to me since Stone had returned with him to the Drunken Mare. As my friend had thought, the former army officer had been busy helping organize the disorganized guards into a more ready fighting force. Somehow I imagined it’d take longer than a few hours to get them up to the standards of the former Equestria Military. At the moment, it appeared he was working on some explosives using a few old lunch boxes and disarmed mines.

He glanced up from his work as he felt me staring at him and locked onto my eyes with his glowing orange orbs. We stared at one another for a moment, before he looked back to his wiring. It was nothing new with the undead pony; he never seemed to say much to anypony. Not on the train ride to Tombstone, nor while he’d been helping Wild protect Tassles and the others we’d saved from the hospital basement turned slave pen.

Perhaps he was still angry with me over Kanzi and her family, or perhaps he was simply missing his home. Or maybe like me, he found himself in a strange new world and was simply unsure how to deal with everything around him. He’d lived in Equestria before it was turned into a radioactive wasteland of mutant animals, twisted ponies and forsaken settlements. He’d lived in a world with sunlight and thousands of ponies around him. I looked away from the ghoul and back around the chariot. I suppose I could relate with him on that...

My eyes landed upon the last pony sitting within the chariot, a dark green unicorn who was busy inspecting his twin custom-made revolvers. It was the fifth time since we’d left Tombstone he’d done so, and this time he’d disassembled one of the weapons and was hard at working cleaning every part of it. Parts of the gun floated about his glowing green horn like the stars I had read about in the night sky. Tools and a cleaning cloth drifted with the barrel and hammer and numerous other parts. We’d found him upstairs in one of the Drunken Mare’s rooms, asleep with three mares around him and a number of empty bottles of beer. It was a wonder the stallion had any energy at all. He was the exact opposite of the ghoul sitting behind him, having much to say while we’d loaded the chariot with the supplies the mayor had bought for us. A number of sad-eyed mares had come to see him off. Despite it all, I found myself smirking and shaking my head.

I’d been a little surprised he’d so quickly agreed to go with us on this trip, knowing the odds we faced. He’d said simply he owed us for the rescue and that we seemed to always have something exciting going on. Perhaps he was right; since coming to the surface it’d been one exciting thing after another happening around me. I wondered how he’d react if I told him my plans for settling down and starting a farm once we reached San Ponsisco? He didn’t seem the type to settle down, at least not for long.

Like the orange winged mare pulling us through the clouded night sky, the unicorn took a little getting used to. He’d been loud and boastful when we’d first meet aboard the train, but he’d fought beside us to take it from the raiders. He’d helped us out afterwards with the prisoners despite being one himself, and had even helped drive the bandits out from Tombstone’s bank. Perhaps it was time I’d gotten to know him a bit better, since after all it would be another hour or so before we reached the ruined town.

Standing from my seat across from Stone, I worked the feeling back into my legs and flicked my tail that had become tangled from being sat on for so long. Stone looked up from his work as I moved, and I nodded towards him. Seeing that we had not yet arrived, nor were we under fire, he nodded back and went back to his project. I turned and moved down between the seats of the passenger compartment towards Balefire. Carrion barely spared me a glance as he put the finishing touches on his homemade bomb, dumping a hoof full of rusty nails and screws into the open space of the lunchbox. At the sound of somepony approaching him, Balefire looked up.

The unicorn’s red eyes lifted from his work on his revolver to spot me sitting down on the seat across the aisle from him. He grinned and nodded his horned head towards me.

“Heya, boss pony, how’s it goin’? We there yet?” he asked, a question he’d asked quite often, so much so that Wild had threatened to fly back here and shove his mic down his throat if he didn’t shut the fuck up and let her talk to her dirt pony in peace. We’d taken the headset away from him after the chariot lurched violently to the right.

“No, not just yet. It’ll be another hour or so before we reach Oddwick,” I said, looking from the unicorn’s face to the ivory grip of his revolver. Princess Luna floated a few inches from his face, glowing a pale green color in his magical grip. The lunar goddess’ outstretched wings seemed ready to lift the alicorn into the night sky that shone behind her, as upon her horn a single star sat atop the very tip. Just behind the goddess’ head rose the full moon. The craftsponyship was amazing and I suddenly found myself wondering just where he’d gotten them.

“Yeah, she’s a real beauty, Luna,” the stallion said with a smile, lowering the ebony grip down near his hoofs, where he ran the cleaning cloth gently over the carved relief of one of Equestria’s rulers.

“Indeed she is, if you don’t mind me asking. Where did you get them? I’ve never seen anything quite like them.” Which isn't saying much, really, seeing as how I’d spent my whole life in a stable. But even the few books and tapes we’d had on art seemed to pale in comparison to the work put into these weapons’ grips.

“From what I’ve managed to piece together, they date back to the start of the war and have been in my family for generations since... at least from what I’ve learned from family friends and the few records I’d managed to find,” he said, looking over the carved grip of the revolver before lowering it back down. I didn’t ask, but he must have seen the questioning look in my eyes, or else he’d expected the question to be asked. “Nearly my entire hometown was destroyed by a Super Mutant attack when I was four or five. Most of the ponies I’d been raised with were killed in the attack, and only about a dozen of us survived to be rescued by the Confederate Army.”

I winced inwardly at that. It could have been a fate of my own home, if we’d been overrun by the raiders. What sort of effect would that have on a young colt... or filly? My thoughts turned for a moment to Sweetie Pie. Balefire went on.

“We were actually lucky anypony was nearby to help; Middletown isn’t exactly a place many ponies go to. The unit that rescued us was actually in the area searching for the same group of Mutants that attacked us, but they’d lost the trail in the rocky terrain.” With a skill for levitation I’d never seen before, the unicorn manipulated the small glowing pieces of the revolver back into place, reassembling the weapon as he spoke. “There wasn’t much left of Middletown after that; the Mutants had burned it nearly to the ground. After the fighting had died down, the unit salvaged what they could and returned home, with us in tow.

“Most of the survivors elected to stay in San Ponsisco, but none of them could take care of a young colt, so the unit commander took me in and raised me as his own son alongside his daughter.” With his horn glowing, the collection of random parts and tools began to take shape into a revolver once more, “Sadly, I was hardly a good pony.” By the smirk he wore, I could tell there was little regret in his mind. “I got into all sorts of trouble, stealing and such... I was a real hoof full, but my foster parents never gave up trying to make me into a good boy.”

At the mention of stealing, I glanced to the stallions flank and the cutie mark he had there, a broken padlock. Well, that was a rather unusual special talent, I suppose (says the pony with a flower on his ass... thank you years of torment in school).

“I did my best to behave, even joined the army like my foster father and sister.” The now complete revolver floated up between us, along with its twin. “After I passed basic training, he took me aside and gave me these, told me he’d found them on a half burned stallion in Middletown. According to the survivors he’d been the town's Sheriff, and my father.”

The weapons suddenly began to spin quickly before being cocked and uncocked. Finally the display ended when the twin revolvers twirled their way into holsters on either of Balefires forelegs.

“He told me he’d had my foster mother look them up in the government's historical documents they had taken from a stable and found information that they’d been given to a pair of royal guards back at the start of the war... I’ll admit, I didn’t pay as much attention to the history lesson as I suppose I should have. My mom’s a bit of a egghead at times.” He flashed me a cocky grin and began placing his cleaning tools back into a small pack.

“You should have more respect for your mother, kid.” The rough voice of Carrion broke in on the conversion, causing both of us to turn our heads back towards the ghoul sitting at the rear of the chariot, but he said no more, his eyes fixed on another explosive.

“I’ve plenty of respect for my mom, she can buck like a mule when she’s mad,” the unicorn said with a wide grin rubbing a hoof over his cheek as if in memory of a recent example, “A fact most ponies find odd since she’s always so nice and polite to everyone, even her dumb ass counselors and assistants. Now, I think I’ll get a little more rest; didn’t have much time for that back in Tombstone.” The cocky pony flashed both Carrion and I a grin before wiggling down into his seat to get more comfortable.

I snorted and rolled my eyes. Maybe if he tried sleeping in a bed for once he might get some rest. His father sounded rather high up in the Confederacy’s Army, and if I remember right he’d said his mother was in charge of the entire Confederacy. I wondered how much of it was true, or if any of it was. I started to ask the as of yet unsleeping Balefire when I heard Carrion muttering to himself behind us.once more my ears perked up towards the ghoul, but I couldn’t really make out much of what he was saying beyond something about family.

After that, the conversation died down and I returned to my seat at the front of the chariot, leaving Balefire to nap and Carrion to work on his explosives, I suppose it helped him keep his mind off things he did not want to think about.

With Stone still quietly speaking with Wild, it left me with few choices to pass the remaining time to Oddwick. I attempted to get some sleep, but found it would not come to me, for I was too worked up over the morning’s events and wondering what lay ahead for us. I wasn’t hungry, or thirsty, so I left my supplies alone. The scenery outside was now impossible to see; it had grown so dark and we were so high up that there was really no hope of seeing much below. I turned then to my Pipbuck and the radio, searching for a bit of music to help break the silence.

As I turned the knob slowly across the radio, I heard mostly static and a few badly garbled words of signals too far away to properly pick up. After a few moments of searching, I came across the sounds of a familiar song on a station I knew well. Stopping, I allowed the music to fill the small space of the chariot and settled into my seat for the last hour or so of the trip.

I was just about to drift off to sleep when the song ended and was replaced by the loud voice of the station’s DJ.

“Thanks for tuning into the Big L.N.R. where we play the same dozen songs over and over and over again! Yep, nothing but the same damn song, but don’t worry, these recordings survived a balefire bomb so we’ll likely be listening to them into the next century!

“But, if you're reeeaaaalllly getting sick of hearing the same thing for the past hundred and fifty years and are interested in doing something about it, then I’d like to suggest something. All you wasteland savages out there in the Wastes, you’re already digging around hazardous ruins and shifting through possibly radioactive garbage. Why not hit up the local ruins of your friendly neighborhood music store and send Ol’ Three Horns some new tunes?

“Now, normally we’d get started with the news right about now, and that is indeed going to happen, it’s just today the news is so shockingly new, I thought I’d give you all a moment to prepare. What's so surprising, you may be asking? Well, normally we start off with the usual depressing shit that we have almost every damned day, but not today, kids!

“Now, for my long-time listeners, and you know who you are Mr. Lone Gunpony, you’ll remember I mentioned something about a large group of ponies making their way across the wasteland just west of Crossroads.”

My eyes snapped open and I nearly fell out of my seat as those words left the DJ’s mouth. She was talking about Bright and the others from home... not only that but it seemed she was also talking to me! Lone Gunpony was the name she’d given me after I helped out Crossroads.

“Well, we just got an update here in the station on their progress. For those just tuning in, or having been busy trying to stave off a radscorpion infestation, this group of ponies are not your typical herd. They are neither raiders, slavers, nor even those armored buffoons the Steel Rangers. No, this was a group of battered, tired and very much alive Stable ponies, who were just attempting to make their way across the wasteland to safety.

‘Now, a lotta you ponies might be asking yourself, ‘Why didn’t you tell us sooner, Three Horns?! We coulda gone to help the poor Stable ponies!’ and to the majority of those ponies I say, ‘Shut the bucking hell up, you slaver bastards! Ol’ Three Horns wasn’t born yesterday.’ I know there’s more than just my little ponies listening into my station, and I sure as hell ain’t gonna make it any easier for your pitiful excuse for a pony to make a living selling flesh.” The DJ cleared her throat and after a pause went on.

“Anyways, as I was saying, I’ve been following these ponies for some time now thanks to my friends scattered all throughout the Wastes. Their progress has been good at times, but they’ve not had an easy time of it. Most of us know just how deadly the wasteland can be to anypony caught unaware of the hazards. The increase in raider activity over the past few months has certainly not made travel any safer, and they have been creeping ever closer to San Ponsisco. Well, these poor ponies had the misfortune of stumbling across one of their camps just south of Salt Lick City. From the local Sheriff’s report, a couple dozen strong.

“Now, its when we reach this part of a story that you expect to hear the usual sad ol’ bit of news. About how the ponies are slaughtered to the last and turned into fodder for the raiders’ cooking pans... well, not this time! This time the story does not end with the slaughter of every stallion, mare, and foal, for this group of traveling ponies was made of far sterner stuff.

From what I have gathered of the fight, these ponies put up one hell of a stand, so much so it threw the raiders back in confusion and made it clear to anypony with a lick of sense that you do not mess with Stable Security. In a turn of events that is as shocking as my sex life, they not only managed to hold the bastards off long enough, they had driven them nearly back down the trail east, and right into the guns of our very own C.S.E. Rangers. And did our ponies in green prove their worth.

“Of course this is the wasteland, and not the land of candy canes and lollipops. There were losses suffered from both the Rangers and the Stable ponies but at this time I’ve not heard any exact numbers. My heart goes out to them.”

I sat back in my seat as she finished speaking. Losses? No. No. How many? Who?! My ears twisted to the sides and I felt myself getting a bit shaky. What had become of the others? Of Sugar Pie? Bright and everypony else? My dark thoughts were shattered a moment later as once more Three Horns began to speak, but not for long.

“Now, to put any worrying minds at ease, I’ve got a little message to pass on.” A new voice began speaking a few moments later, belonging to somepony I’d never expected to hear from again, at least not when I’d first begun this journey.

“So... you just want me to say something about us?” Brightblade was asking somepony else as the recording started. “Well, we’re all from Stable 45 and were forced to leave after raiders attacked us over a week and a half ago. We’ve been traveling across the wasteland ever since and I don’t think any of us were prepared for how things are up here. We’re all tired, dirty, hungry, and near ready to drop, but we’re not about to stop until we reach San Ponsisco. From what your commander told me, we’ll be getting there soon enough. We really can’t thank you for helping us out back there with the raiders.”

If Bright was alright, then Sugar had to be. My oldest friend would never let anything happen to my niece if he could help it, and I had faith in my fellow Stable ponies to watch after her.

“It was nothing, sir. Just doing our duty is all,” another voice said, likely belonging to the pony recording the conversation. Perhaps one of the army rangers? A moment later the sound of hooves running up towards Bright and the recorder came from the Pipbuck’s speaker and another voice soon filled the chariot with giggles.

“Mr. Bright! Mr. Bright!! Lookit what the pretty winged pony gave me!! Candy!!” my niece said in her happy giggling voice. A huge wave of relief washed over me and I sunk back into my seat, fresh tears rising to my eyes. I’d missed that happy voice so much over the past few days... and after the hospital basement...

For his part, Brightblade simply chuckled as the sound of scampering hooves came from the recording. My niece on a sugar high was almost unstoppable, at least until nap time. After several seconds of this, Bright once more began speaking to the pony recording it.

“So, this will be played on the radio all across the wasteland?”

“Yes, sir. Well, at least as far as the signal can reach,” came the response from the second voice. Another moment of silence followed, where I could hear Sugar happily jumping about the taller ponies.

“Sugar, would you like to say hello to your Uncle?” the jumping at once stopped and was followed by a huge gasp.

“Uncle Shadow’s here?!” she squealed and by the sounds Bright was making, I knew my hyper active niece was climbing up the tall pony’s flank and onto his back to look around for me.

“No, he’s not, but he might be listening to this when they play it over the radio... you remember the radio, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Momma always let me listen to it when I had trouble sleeping!” I smirked and shook my head. Ebony sometimes turned her Pipbuck radio on so Sugar could listen to some of the music that was played late at night. It helped the little filly settle down and rest, often times having the same effect on her mother as well. I heard the recording pony let out a surprised yelp as something grabbed ahold of the mic he was holding and yelled loudly into it, “HI UNCLE SHADOW!!!!” Such a loud sound within the confines of the armored covered walls of the chariot echoed about like a gunshot.

Carrion let out a shout as my niece yelled, and a second later I heard the sound of tools and metal parts rattling all across the floor of the chariot. Well, we didn’t blow up so I guess whatever he’d been working on had yet to be armed or filled with explosives.

Between the loudly swearing ghoul and myself, I felt somepony kick at the back of my seat with all four hooves. Balefire let out a low snort through his nose as he woke from his nap, muttering something about wanting to ride the pony again.

Stone, who had already been listening to the radio from across the aisle simply chuckled at the small foalish yell coming from my Pipbuck. The stallion shook his head and looked back to our traveling companions as my niece went on talking to the recorder, apparently holding it up to her face with her hooves.

“The pretty winged pony lady gave me candy, Uncle Shadow!! See?” There was a short pause as she know doubt showed the recording device her most prized possession, sweets. “She’s real nice, an’ all the ponies in funny green shirts are really nice, they made the bad ponies go away! I miss you and mommy, you should hurry up and come back home now... well, not to our old home which is all sad and dark but to our new home... well, whenever we get there... are we there yet Mr. Bright? Huh? Are we?” I could well picture her bright smiling face looking up to my old friend as she bounced around in excitement.

“Not just yet, squirt. Come on, let’s give the nice pony his recorder back... and his helmet.” There came a long, drawn-out “awww...” from a small foal, before the recording ended. The silence only lasted a moment, until the voice of DJ Three Horns began to speak.

“Sweet Celestia and Luna that little foal is just too damn sweet! Ol’ Three Horns thinks she’s gonna have to get some insulin after that! I dunno who her Uncle Shadow is, but if you're out there listenin’ I’d hurry on back to that little filly. Now, lets get back to some music...”

As music replaced the DJ’s voice inside the chariot’s armored compartment, the ponies behind me went back to what they’d been doing moments before. Balefire settled back into his seat and within seconds began snoring lightly. Behind the dark green unicorn, Carrion’s horn flared to life and the ghoul began picking up his fallen tools and explosives. Across from me, Stone slipped whatever he’d been working on back into his packs.

“Yer niece sounds like a real hoof full,” Stone said as he finished putting his own things away. I looked up to my friend and smiled a bit.

“Indeed she is. She takes after my sister and I instead of her father. I suppose it was revenge for all the times we drove our mother crazy.” The chariot rocked slightly, due to a sudden shift in the wind; we’d encountered a number of small bumps like it since leaving Tombstone, “She’s something of a Stable foal. Everypony there always looked after her ever since she was born.”

“Yer still a bit of a hoof full, Shadow,” Stone said with a grin. He reached up and adjusted his cowpony hat a bit. “Ah’m lookin’ forward ta spendin’ a bit of time with my nephew when all this here’s done.”

“You know, Crossroads isn’t far from Tombstone. When we’re finished here, you and Wild should head on back home,” I suggested. They’d both signed on to help me get inside Kanter City and rescue my sister. Neither had expected us to end up halfway to San Ponsisco aboard a stolen raider train with a bunch of rescued prisoners.

“Ah reckon Ah might do that once yer safely with yer niece, but Ah don’t like leavin’ things half done.”

I awoke suddenly to a large grey hoof shaking me gently on the shoulder. Blinking my eyes a couple times, I saw Stone leaning over saying something to me. After yawning and rubbing the sleep from my eyes with a hoof, I asked him if something was wrong.

“No, Wild just said we’re approachin’ that town and figured ya may wanna get a look at it while we fly over.”

“Over?” I asked, sitting up in my seat. After Stone and I had talked a bit more I’d returned to listening to the radio for another couple minutes before I quickly fell asleep. Looking over my friend’s shoulder, I saw both Carrion and Balefire and risen from their seats and had moved over to the right side door of the chariot. Both ponies stood looking out into the darkness of the wasteland below.

“Wild said it’d be too risky ta try and land so close ta the town, so she’s gonna set us down a ways away behind some hills,” Stone pointed out, reaching a hoof up to the headset hanging above me on the wall and offering it to me.

I reached up and pulled off my hat before taking the headset from my friend’s hoof and slipping it over my head. The black metal band pressed down onto my mane as I adjusted the speaker and flicked the switch to turn it back on. At once I heard Wild’s voice coming from outside, the sound of wind slightly muffled as she flew through the night sky.

“... for a pony who gets his ass knocked out so much he sure sleeps a lot. I mean, I could understand if he had some company. Goddesses know you’ve not gotten much sleep over the past few days, Stone...”

“Shadow’s awake now, Wild... and has his headset back on,” the stallion said, clearing his throat and trying very hard not to turn several shades of red.

“Bah, it’s nothing he hasn’t heard before... unless he hasn’t heard it before in which case I’m really going to need to find that pony a mare to...”

“You were saying something about the town?” I interrupted before she had both of us turning as red as Brightblade.

“This conversation isn’t over, young colt. But yes, landing. The landscape around town is clear, so if they have guards posted they’d spot us the second we drop down out of the sky. As it is, the coloring of the chariot is helping us blend into the clouds.”

“Ya’ll don’t exactly blend in with th’ shadows, Wild.”

“Well, when you're this damn hot its hard to blend in anywhere... but unless they have griffons with them, they won’t see me. We’re high enough up that I’d be little more then a dot to them.”

I stepped up beside Carrion and Balefire, looking out into the darkness that zipped past below us. We were indeed quite high up, higher than we’d been when we’d approached Kanter City. But then, we’d been trying to stay close to the ground to avoid any griffon patrols in the area.

“Where’s Oddwick at?” I asked through the mic, looking about the ground for any sign of the settlement.

“At my nine o'clock, near that dark jutting shape that is a piss poor excuse of a mountain.”

I quickly figured out what she meant and turned my attention on that particular bit of darkness. The mountain was easy enough to see, or rather, the jagged shape that rose up into the night sky. What little light there was reflected off odd angles of the mountain slope. Following the dark shape back down to the ground, I strained my eyes to take in any details at all. After several minutes of staring, I began to pick out small squarish shapes below. A dozen or more of them, all clustered together at the base of the rock pile above it. Oddwick. There was little to no hope of making out anything else about the town from this height and this light. Wild was right; it’d be safer to land elsewhere and backtrack.

“Any idea where we’re going to land?” Carrion asked, the ghoul stepping back from the doorway to move back to his seat.

“A mile or more east of town, there looks to be some low rocky formations, judging by what I can make out from here. If not, we’ll circle the town until we find a place to touch down... now, if you’ll all return to your seats and please leave your trays in their upright position, we’ll be landing soon.”

“I’d like to take this opportunity to thank my passengers for flying Air Fire, even though when it comes to travel by air, we know you have absolutely no choice in the matter whatsoever.”

Once Wild had set us down just beyond a low rise east of our objective, we hurriedly packed up what things we needed and left the sky chariot half hidden under an overhang of jagged rocks. This far south of Tombstone, the landscape had once more turned rocky and uneven, with a number of gullies and ravines to be watchful of. Despite the fact we had flown here with the chariot’s doors open, I still noticed as we trotted the chill in the night air. Like my first night in the wastes, I was surprised at how quickly the temperature could change from unbearably hot to near freezing. It was hardly that cold, but it was noticeable different. It took us little more than an hour to make the trip in the near total darkness, and we did not use any lights for fear that somepony in town may see us coming.

Wild had the easiest time of it, the grinning pegasus simply flying above the deadly drops into darkness that’d mean a broken leg or neck for any of the rest of us. She at least scouted ahead, warning us of sudden drops or possible radscorpion nests of which there seemed to be many. Thankfully the killer beasts were out hunting away from their homes.

As we passed one such lair, I noticed with a bit of alarm how large the cave was, easily twice the height of a pony. While a creature would likely make use of any shelter it could find, too large or too small, the roof of this particular cave looked to have claw marks across it. Noting my alarm, Stone decided to put my fears to rest by assuring me the homeowner was likely far away hunting for its evening meal. Then he went on to explain what likely lived inside.

It seems there was a certain breed of radscorpion that made its home in such terrain all across the wasteland: the albino radscorpion. As its name would suggest, it was completely white, with red burning eyes and a temper that would leave a dragon wary of attacking it. How a species already known for being aggressive had become even more so was beyond me, and I silently prayed to both Celestia and Luna that we’d not run across one tonight, or any other night.

Yes, thanks Stone... I can sleep easily tonight having learned that.

Just when it seemed we’d be walking all night to reach our destination, we made our way up a low hill and spotted the dark shapes of the town below. It’d been difficult to see from the air; the bandits either had covered the windows and doors of the buildings to block any light from escaping, they were early sleepers, or they’d already left.

After creeping a bit closer, red blips began appearing on my E.F.S. along with a number of yellow and green, but it was still proving difficult to see much more than dark looming shapes of buildings and the rocky background. That is until Wild passed me a pair of dark metal binoculars. Unlike Stone’s, hers had a number of small buttons and switches upon the sides, and was much heavier than the earth pony’s.

“One of the few perks of having worked for the Enclave,” she whispered over to me as the five of us lay on our stomachs atop a rocky hill.

Bringing the black metal binoculars up to my face, I blinked and felt my ears perk straight up in surprise. Ahead of me, the ruined town of Oddwick leapt out at me nearly as clear as day... if daylight was bright green. Night Vision goggles... I’d read something about them in the history books and tapes we had of the war. For the moment, I pushed aside the marvel of technology and focused upon the town ahead.

Oddwick was what I had come to expect for a post war town out in the middle of the wasteland. The town was about the size of Lonesome Hoof, and in about as good a condition as the long abandoned town. The town was an odd collection of stone and wooden buildings, half repaired and half ready to collapse at a moments notice, although there were signs that somepony not that long ago had attempted to repair some of the more upright structures. I found the town's name suddenly more fitting.

There were a number of patchwork repairs on a dozen or so of the buildings, roofs, walls and windows. All were hurriedly fixed up so that ponies could move in and out from the hostile territory that surrounded the entire town. Most of these buildings were located within the center of town and had likely once been stores and hotels judging by the worn faded signs hanging above the doors. Scanning the streets, I saw little movement that was not the result of the breeze that had begun to blow twenty minutes earlier. I was just about to finish scanning the town when I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. Turning the binoculars towards the movement, I saw a dark green shape moving along the roof of one of the repaired buildings.

It was a pony, judging by the size and shape. Stallion or mare, I couldn’t really tell, as whoever it was was wearing a heavy looking jacket and wide brimmed hat. I could just make out the shape of a rifle slung across their shoulder as they slowly moved along the roof. I sudden white flare appeared near the pony’s face and for a moment I was confused what I’d just seen. Watching, I saw the sudden flare of light once more, and realized the guard was smoking, and I was seeing the orange glow of the cigarette.

A quick scan of the surrounding buildings roof tops revealed another two shadowy shapes doing much the same, standing watch. Luckily for us, the near total darkness would provide us with a good chance of approaching the town unseen, and then it would simply be a matter of ducking into one of the outlying buildings. The darkness would not be our only ally in this. Looking near the edge of town, I saw a short black shape half circling the buildings. It was the unfinished wall the mayor had spoken of, and it would allow us to work our way past the patrolling guards. Lowering the binoculars I turned to my friends and nodded my head towards the row of dark shapes.

“They have three ponies atop the three tallest buildings in town, but unless they’re using a pair of these, they won’t see us until we get close. By then, we’ll be able to use the half constructed wall to work our way into one of the ruined buildings this side of town.”

“And do what exactly?” Carrion asked, the ghoul looking over the town from where he lay on my right. Did those glowing orange eyes give him night vision? Better question, did the patrolling guards see them?

“Yeah, the plan’s a bit vague really,” Balefire piped up from across the ghoul ponies right. The young unicorn had given up on making anything out in the darkness and was looking over to the rest of us.

“Get used to it,” Wildfire said. Though I couldn’t see her from where I was laying, I could tell just by the sound of her voice she was grinning. Stone simply snorted in amusement and I rolled my eyes.

“Alright, alright, so most of my plans involve killing everything that moves. This won’t work here.”

“Awww...” Again that was from the no doubt grinning pegasus.

“My Pipbuck’s picking up both hostile and friendly targets, a fair number of both, and that’s only what it can detect from this range.” Who knew how many more there were further inside town. “We’ll attempt to sneak in and find these friendly targets and see if they can tell us where the supplies have been taken.”

“Where are these friendly targets at?” Stone asked from just beside my left.

“There’s two large groups of them, about eight each. Both are located within buildings as far as I can tell, and on this end of town.” I pointed a hoof towards the dark structures in front and just below us, “That single story building there, and the large two story fenced-in barn there.”

“If we’re worried about a time frame here, we’ll likely need to split up to cover more ground,” the raspy voice of our ghoul companion said. It seemed a risky move to divide our forces when we were out numbered, but... “Most of the actual gang members are likely guarding the stolen supplies or their own building, I doubt they’re expecting any trouble just yet.”

“If there are friendly ponies in those areas, maybe we should get them all to move to that barn. It’s closer to the edge of town, and if things turn ugly it’ll keep them out of the line of fire,” Balefire suggested, and I had to admit, it was a good one. I nodded my head and took the idea.

“Thats good, we’ll send anypony we meet who’s willing to help us there.” Now to just divide up. “Stone, you take Wild and Carrion and check out the barn, secure it real quick, and join Balefire and myself at the one story building. Hopefully somepony in either location knows where to find Tombstone’s supplies.”

“And if they don’t?” Wild asked, the mare having moved from laying upon the ground to standing over the rest of us. I rose up and brushed the fresh dirt from my armored chest, as beside me the others stood as well.

“Then we go to plan B: kill anything shooting at us,” I answered simply.

Once everypony was ready, we set out across the open plains towards Oddwick and its half-finished wall. We moved as quickly as we dared, not wanting to trip or make any more noise then we had to. The darkness protected us, and within a few minutes we were pressing ourselves up against the rough surface of the patchwork wall. Like every other hurriedly constructed barrier within the wasteland, it was made of a assortment of items, doors, planks, even a wagon wheel or three.

Peeking over the edge of the wall (it only came to our shoulders, so we had to kneel down behind it), I saw nopony had raised the alarm. I silently cursed myself for giving Wild’s night vision wonders back to her, I’d have liked to have one more look around before we broke away into teams. But the mare along, with Stone and Carrion, were already at the other end of the wall, ready to move up and over it to slip into the town.

Turning back to look, I gave a quick nod, and both groups set off to work their way to the locations on my Pipbuck. Balefire and myself to the building my mapping spell had given the name Post Office, the others to what I can only assume was the Oddwick Corral, although for some reason my Pipbuck had shortened it to The O.K. Corral.

Welcome to Level 13!

Perk Added: Intense Training: A week out in the wasteland has toughened your body and sharpened your reflexes. You can put a single point into any of your S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attributes.

Shadow (lvl 13 Stable Dweller)

S: 5

P: 6

E: 6+1

C: 7

I: 5

A: 6[/b

L: 5

Author's Notes:

Editor and Chief: TheGamefilmGuruman

Editor: Avi

Pre- Reader: MagicLlama

Pre- Reader: Bronyken

Original Cover Art: TimeForSP

Current Cover Art: MisterMech Go. Worship his work.