… as I bit down hard on the firing bit, my teeth clamped around the metal rod and the weapon’s trigger, even as the rest of my body began to move. Hooves digging into the loose gravel and dry dirt of Oddwick’s streets, I lunged hard to the right and out of sight of the sniper who’d taken up position in the second floor window of a ruined supply store. A shot zipped past my face and through my trailing white mane to strike the ground where I’d been standing seconds before. He’d been aiming for my head.

Beside me, my friends were already in motion, having seen my head lower for my weapon. Stonehoof twisted to the right, bringing his snout up along with the hunting rifle he used; a forehoof lifted up to help steady the long weapon’s barrel upon the right side window of the supply store. The stallion’s rifle bucked in his forehoof and mouth as he squeezed the trigger, causing a single deadly shot to burst from the muzzle. The round spun through the humid desert air before shattering the remains of the window frame, along with the throat of the sniper busy working the bolt action of his rifle. With a startled cry, the wounded pony stumbled forward and toppled through the windowless opening to plummet the short distance to the ground below, landing in a mess of hooves, limbs, and blood. His rifle clattered into the street beside his lifeless form.

As my hooves skidded across the gravel to a stop, I jerked my head upwards, bringing Luna’s Ruse to bare on the now-moving group of stallions before us. Buford’s eyes widened as he realized something was wrong when neither my nor my friend’s head exploded from his second sniper. Grinning around the firing bit, I brought the weapon up towards the stallion, ready to end this once and for all.

A blur of orange and red darted above me as Wildfire took wing, the pegasus mare’s teeth clamped down upon the firing bit for her own weapon. The twin barrels roared to life, sending out a deadly shower of high caliber lead. Dust bloomed as rounds tore into the ground between us and the Blackhoofs’ leaders, throwing off the aim of the two stallions beside the brothers. Assault rifles sparked to life, but their noise was overpowered by the Enclave battlesaddle. Both were busy scurrying for cover, but one was not quick enough and ended up being struck by the quickly moving rounds. His hind quarters were all but shredded as he was strafed with lead, sending the luckless stallion flipping across the street. Sadly neither Buford nor his brother was hit by the opening salvo, and both were using the ensuing chaos to rush for cover.

I snapped off two shots towards Buford’s retreating backside, one striking the ground between his hooves and the other just missing his rapidly-moving form by inches. Snarling around the firing bit, I adjusted my aim and fired again, just as he galloped behind a building and into cover of the porch. My shot struck the thin, rotting railing and blew a sizeable chunk of it to splinters, but the round was slowed and sent off-course, allowing the villain to escape into cover.

A whooping cowpony yell echoed throughout the narrow streets of Oddwick as Balefire reared up on his hind hooves, his twin revolvers (Celestia and Luna as he called them) flying from the holsters he wore on his forelegs, surrounded by the glow of his horn. The weapons pointed towards the hulking form of Buford's brother and began firing. Twin hammers jerked back as the triggers were pulled and slammed down onto the chambered rounds. With a spark of fire and smoke, two bullets burst from the barrels and struck the armored form of the large stallion, but only just before he reached shelter. The stallion following him was not as lucky, as the revolvers moved to track him and fired. Each pistol held six rounds, for twelve in total. In a matter of seconds, Balefire had sent all twelve screaming into his targets. The hapless stallion’s armor protected him from most, but a few found weak points and wounded him before he could follow his boss into cover.

It was then that the second sniper made his appearance, although likely not how Buford was hoping. A black armored stallion flew through the second floor window left of the barn, hooves waving wildly as he dropped to the street below. He impacted the gravel-covered streets with a crunch of bones and whinny of pain, his rifle broken in half and landing upon either side of him. Seconds later, another stallion appeared in the window, grinning with rotten yellow teeth and mad, glowing orange eyes. Carrion’s assault rifle floated up in his magical grip and began hosing down on the street below him, where a number of Blackhoofs had begun to appear.

“Feel your hooves, you sons of bitches!!!” the former Equestrian Army pony yelled as rounds poured from the barrel of his weapon like water through a pipe. Brass shells rained down around the ghoul, some dropping down upon the bleeding and broken sniper below. Sweeping the assault rifle wide, Carrion scattered the bandits that had emerged from their hiding spots to try and get better shots on my friends and I. They went diving for cover as rounds kicked up dirt and rocks all around them.

Stone was already swinging his rifle around as the exposed bandits raced for the safety of alleyways or buildings. Wild had already angled herself towards the left side of the street, strafing the scurrying ponies with her rifles as she swooped down. Balefire, meanwhile, had taken cover behind a porch and was busy reloading his revolvers, his horn making it go so much quicker than using a hoof or mouth.

But I had no more time to worry about my friends, as a sudden hail of fire began peppering the ground near my hooves. One round struck my armored shoulder, causing me to grunt and stumble. I rushed towards the same building Buford had just ducked behind, hooves pounding across the lose roadway before I skidded to a halt against the wall. The move kicked up a small cloud of dust and I snorted and tossed my head to clear the thick cloud from my nose and eyes. Looking around, I saw that I had in fact taken shelter behind the building’s porch and a rain barrel resting up beside it. A quick glance around the corner rewarded me with a shower of splinters stinging my face and eyes. Swearing, I ducked back, but I’d seen my attacker.

It was an earth pony stallion wearing that same combat armor and wielding an odd-looking assault rifle. Unlike the ones I’d seen, this one appeared to have a wooden stock and a sickle clip. It looked a lot less modern than the Equestrian model I’d seen most ponies using. Perhaps this was one of the zebra assault rifles? I’d seen them in books and old movies and newsreels. Despite its simple look and design, it was still deadly.

Another round of bullets hammered the water barrel, sending up clouds of pulverised wood and dirt. Luckily for me, the barrel was hardly empty, and the filthy, stagnant rainwater-turned-sludge slowed the bullets enough to give me time to duck. The rounds splintered my side of the barrel and struck the ground not far away. That same putrid water trickled from the holes, soaking me in foul smelling gunk. Still, I couldn’t sit here forever; Buford could be getting away. And not to mention I was a sitting duck. Gritting my teeth, I flicked open the drum feed for Luna’s Ruse and craned my neck around to reach for my saddlebags and the ammo within, intent on at least topping off before I got back into the fray.

Reaching back to my saddlebags, I grabbed the flap of the left side pack with my teeth and yanked it open. But before I could reach inside and nose around for the spare shotgun shells, I heard the thunder of hooves as somepony rushed towards me from around the corner of the building. A hurried glance to my E.F.S. indicated that it was nopony I’d want coming up behind me, but he was close and I only had a few seconds to react. I couldn’t go back, since the pony who had me pinned would just gun me down; I couldn’t move around the porch... my eyes wandered to the porch...

Aw, fuck it...

Slapping the saddlebag shut, I turned and reached for the firing bit of my shotgun. It had more than half a drum left; more than enough for the moment, I hoped. Clamping my teeth firmly around the metal bit, I rose to my hooves and placed my forehooves up the edge of the railing. Hauling myself up with both forelegs and a kick from my hind legs, I vaulted over the wooden railing just as my original attacker opened up once more. His assault rifle clattered as rounds zipped past my body, impacting the wooden railing below me and the walls of the building behind me. At the same moment, a heavier weapon fired, blowing the railing I’d just lept over into hundreds of small shards of wood. The pony flanking me had arrived and had just narrowly missed killing me.

Ignoring the incoming rounds I dropped back down onto the rotting wooden floorboards of the porch. My hooves slammed down hard as I landed, one board bursting through into open space. With one hoof caught, I stumbled forward as I managed to pull my hoof free before I could twist it. It slowed me down a bit, but I still managed to recover quickly enough to snap off two shots towards the pony to my left. The first round grazed the orange-brown stallion’s shoulder, causing him to flinch. The second, however, put a stop to him completely as the solid slug slammed full on into his chest. Blood and broken armor plating trailed behind the pony as he stumbled back and slumped to the ground, assault rifle dropping before his hooves.

Without stopping to see if the first stallion was down for the count, I raced ahead, knowing the other pony was likely moving up behind me once again. I allowed the momentum I’d built up from the jump to carry me forwards, towards the end of the porch where I’d seen a Blackhoof duck for cover. If I was lucky, I’d get the drop on the bastard. The pounding of hooves told me my flanker was nearing the spot I’d been, and would soon be able to snap a couple shots into my flanks. I had to keep moving. Approaching the end of the porch, I reared up and leapt once more across the railing, twisting around as I did to snap off another two shots at the pony following me. Or rather, where the pony following me would have been.

Both shots struck the railing where I’d started below, blowing the abused pieces of wood into sawdust before I landed hard on my back and rolled over into the neighboring building’s foundation with a grunt and a cloud of dust. The flanking pony’s weapon fired, a single round exploding inches above my head, showering me with bits of concrete. Scrambling quickly to my hooves, I snorted and coughed the thick cloud away from my face and fired another round blindly towards the porch, the shell blowing apart a wooden support for the railing but little else. There was still a red dot ahead of me, along with a number else where around.

Taking the chance, I hurriedly reached for my saddlebags once again, snapping the drum feed of Luna’s Ruse open to try and reload the weapon. Gripping each shell by the brass cap, I began sliding them into the empty slots of the drum. Years of practice on the Stable’s firing range, along with the past weeks’ numerous frantic gun fights, had left me with the ability to very quickly reload my weapons. As I slotted the last round home, I heard and saw movement from my attacker. He was attempting to edge around to my left, towards the body of the dead assault rifle gunner (he was very much dead, hence the lack of a red dot coming from his direction). Snapping the drum shut, I started to move around the corner and snap off a couple shots to force him back. However, somepony else had my back.

The rapid fire of twin revolvers echoed within the narrow confines of the street as Balefire galloped onto the scene from between two buildings. The dark green stallion wore a wild grin and yelled at his target. I heard several grunts of pain come from the other end of the porch, before the red dot simply disappeared from my vision. Peering around the corner, I saw a black armored stallion laying on his side in the street. A rifle similar to Stone’s lay where he dropped it, blood seeping from a half dozen wounds in the stallions side. Like Stone’s and my own riot armor, the Blackhoofs’ armor simply protected their upper body and forelegs. Balefire had managed to do what the bandit had attempted on me: a flank attack.

Looking from the dead bandit to Balefire, I saw he was already in the process of reloading his revolvers and looking about for new targets. His red eyes caught sight of me and his grin widened.

“Heya, boss, was wondering where you’d gotten to,” he said as small caliber rounds drifted from his saddlebags to his weapons, slotting in quickly and with practiced ease. As the last round floated into the weapons’ barrels, his horn gave a sudden flare and both weapons snapped closed and the hammers pulled back. “You wounded?” he asked, nodding his still glowing horned head towards my flank as he pawed at the ground, eager to get back into the fight.

I glanced back to see what he was talking about. There’d been no flashing warning popping up in my vision warning of injuries, but it wouldn’t have been the first time I’d ignored them. Just below my own saddlebags were a number of minor wounds, caused from the flying wooden splinters and a few too many close calls with assault rifle rounds. It was nothing life-threatening, nor was it going to slow me down.

“It’s nothing. How’s everypony else?” I asked, standing up from the ground and dusting my hindquarters off with a flick of my tail. A number of wooden splinters dropped from the length of white hair as I moved.

“Fine, so far as I know. Stonehoof’s got a couple bandits pinned down in a bakery just down the street from where Carrion took out that sniper. I saw Wild flying overhead, strafing a few strays that looked to be trying to get at the barn. I think she’s herding them back towards Stone’s position,” Balefire answered quickly, his red eyes darting about the empty street around us as the sounds of gunfire drifted from just down the street. “I haven’t seen Carrion since he snuck out of the barn. Who knew a ghoul could be so damned quiet?”

“Carrion can likely take care of himself,” I responded, checking Luna’s Ruse. The weapon had received no damage from the tumbles I’d taken, save for a bit of dirt that had been kicked up when I’d dived for cover. I quickly brushed it away with my hoof. “What about the big guy, the one who took off over that way?”

“Asshole got away. Slipped off into another street.” The unicorn jerked his head back towards the two buildings he’d come running from a moment before. “I started to follow him, but you wanted us to stay in teams of at least two.” I was glad the pony could rein himself in long enough to stick with the plan I’d outlined in the barn.

“Right, well, we’ll get ’im later.” Looking away from Balefire, I scanned the building to my left, the one I’d seen Buford duck behind. “If I’m right, we’ve got his brother cornered.” As I looked, I saw the alleyway ended suddenly in a high fence that blocked it off. It was easily twice the height of a pony, and would be difficult to scale with nothing to help boost a pony up. The building along the left side of the alley had no windows or doors in the narrow space; just thick, if somewhat chipped, brick walls. The building with the porch I’d dived over, however, was a different story. About halfway to the fence, there was a set of steps leading up and into the second story.

“The bastard running the show?” Balefire asked, his grin widening (if such a thing was possible) as his revolvers begun to spin within his magical grip. “Well, just don’t seem right to leave him all alone. Shall we just set the whole thing on fire or do you wanna do this the hard way?”

As tempting as it was to burn the whole thing to the ground, it would cause far too many problems. The most pressing was the stolen supplies in the town’s bank. Burning an entire building down would make a lot of smoke, which could be seen for miles around. It seemed we weren’t facing all the members of the Blackhoofs’ gang, and if they saw a cloud of smoke coming up from their home base...

“The hard way, I suppose,” I said, causing Balefire to slump a bit. Seems he’d been looking forward to the prospect of setting something on fire.

“So, what's the plan?” he asked, stepping up beside me to stare down the alleyway at the stairs and the second floor entrance.

“We’ll need to cut him off if he attempts to run again,” I answered, looking from the stairs to the porch and the front door, before pointing a hoof toward it. “We’ll split up here. You’ll take the first floor. Make sure he hasn’t already fled downstairs. If you find him do, whatever it takes to stop him from getting away. If you don’t find him, make your way upstairs.” The unicorn nodded his head, looking over to where I was pointing.

“I take it you’ll be upstairs then?” he asked, to which I nodded in response. “He’ll likely expect somepony to come in behind him, you know.” Then he looked over to me and smirked a bit. “Of course you know. That’s why I’m going through the front.”

“Balefire...” I began, but was hurriedly cut off by the young pony.

“Eh, I’m used to it. You sorta remind me of my step sister. She refuses to send anypony into harm’s way if she can do it herself.” he shrugged. “Well, let’s get this over with then!” With a chuckle, he saluted me with the barrel of one pistol before turning and walking up towards the porch and the front door.

Better to lead from the front. That’s what my father always taught me, and what I’d learned from reading through old military history books (though it seems some authors did not share this viewpoint, calling it reckless.) It had served me well as Stable Security Chief, but out here I suppose it would just get me killed a lot quicker. Still, that wasn’t going to change how I did things just yet. Pushing away those thoughts for the time being, I hurriedly trotted down the alleyway and up the rickety wooden steps to the second floor doorway. It likely lead to another store or apartment of some sort. I knew Buford was still inside the building. For whatever reason, the bandit leader hadn’t attempted to escape back out into the streets.

With each step, the stairway groaned and the steps themselves sagged as my weight was put upon them. Despite it all, it held, and I found myself nearing the door. I heard little movement coming from within the building, just the creak of the decaying building settling and the echo of gunfire from down the street. Stepping up beside the door, I reached for Luna’s Ruse and gripped the firing bit tightly in my mouth.

With what little room there was on the second story landing, I edged closer to the wall and lifted a hoof to try the door. Little to my surprise, I found it unlocked and even slightly ajar from recent use. Pressing my hoof against the cracked wooden door, I gently gave it a push and allowed it to swing open on aged and rusty hinges. The door swung slowly back into the darkness of the second floor, coming to a rest against an inner wall with a light thump. I waited to see if anypony was going to start firing at either the noise or the now-open doorway, but after several seconds it was clear Buford was not that dumb. Turning my head, I still saw the red dot that represented a hostile inside the building, but now it was hard to tell just where inside it was. Below me, the green dot that was Balefire slowly made its way about the first floor.

Letting out a deep breath, I cautiously edged towards the door frame, attempting to keep as much of my body out of sight as I could. I peered around and scanned the murky interior of the room carefully for any signs of movement. It was dark, save for what little light managed to filter through the moth-eaten curtains that still clung to rusted, dust-covered rods over the windows. The few shafts of light that filtered through were filled with specks of dust floating down from the ceiling to land upon furniture.

It seemed the second floor had been somepony’s home so long ago. A dark brown couch sat with its back to the door, facing a low table and a pair of chairs of a similar color. Off to their left were the two windows, between which hung a few framed photos that I couldn’t make out in the near darkness. There were also a couple of shelves to the left of the door which seemed to run the length of the wall.

Looking away, I scanned what lay beyond the living room: two doorways, one leading right while the other led straight into what appeared to have been a kitchen. To the left of the kitchen door was a short countertop that allowed a pony to see fully into the kitchen or living room. From where I stood, I could see a single window in the kitchen, but it seemed covered in dust or grime and little to no light managed to make its way through.

While I couldn’t see any sign of Buford himself, I did see the layer of dust that had settled upon the floor and where it had recently been disturbed by a set of hoofprints, which led toward the right side door. The bandit leader must have fled further back into the apartment, perhaps to a bedroom or bathroom. There was no other tracks I could see, so it seemed safe enough to enter, though I still remained alert.

Stepping around the corner of the doorway, I placed my forehooves into the room. As I settled my weight upon them, the floorboards below creaked rather loudly in the darkened living room. My ears perked up from both the creak and the sound of shuffling coming from in front of me, from the kitchen. I froze for a moment, trying to hear exactly where it was coming from, ever so slowly scanning the shadows behind the counter and doorway until I saw movement.

I spotted Buford inching around the corner of the kitchen doorway. Then I saw the glowing shape of a Raging Buck floating up beside him in his pale white magical grip. A grin formed across his muzzle as he leveled it at me and pulled the trigger. My eyes widened as the hammer started to fall. At this range, my armor would be little more than cloth to that round. I should know; I’d killed enough raiders with my own trusty sidearm.

As the hammer fell, I dove for cover behind the nearby couch. From the corner of my eye, I saw the barrel of the revolver explode in fire, releasing a bolt of death that had been aimed at my heart. The round tore through the air between us, impacting my saddlebag and ripping through it like it was little more than air. Passing through the pack, the round skimmed over my flank, just above my cutie mark, and over my tail before striking the wall behind me in a shower of splinters and dust.

Despite it being no more than a glancing blow, it stung like hell and bled freely. Snorting loudly, I narrowed my eyes and began to move. The couch would give me no better cover from that weapon. I’d shot more than my share of raiders through walls and doors over the past week. My hooves dug into the wooden flooring as I rose up. Buford fired his second shot and, sure enough, it passed cleanly through the cloth and wood couch like it wasn’t even there, before embedding itself in the floor and likely passing clean through. I, however, wasn’t in that spot, having vaulted the couch with my forehooves as I’d done the porch railing below. Luna’s Ruse bucked in my teeth as I returned fire.

Both shots were wild, meant only to buy myself some time. The wooden frame of the kitchen door broke apart where the slugs struck, earning me a few swear words from the unicorn’s lips as he ducked back down. He fired off another round towards me. It seemed my wild shooting had earned much more than a few swear words, however, as the round zipped harmlessly past my neck and shoulders. The miss also gave me enough time to cover the small distance between the couch and the kitchen counter.

With a grin of my own, I charged towards the narrow opening between the ceiling and the countertop that separated the kitchen from the living room. As I neared, I reared back on my hind legs and lept across the top. At the same time as I was tucking my forehooves up, I twisted my head around to bring Luna’s Ruse to bear upon Buford. As the barrel’s iron sights landed upon the bandit leader’s face, I squeezed the trigger and felt the weapon fire once more.

With an angry roar, Luna’s Ruse lashed out with another solid slug, the spent shell casing smoking as it was ejected from the opening port on the side of the weapon. The spinning iron slug flew through the air towards the ducking Buford, impacting the wooden support beam at the end of the counter. The beam burst apart at the middle, sending out razor-sharp splinters several inches in length. Though slowed, the slug continued on its path to the unicorn, catching him right in his shoulder guard. The black metal armor burst from the force of the strike, spraying bits of broken metal through the air, but stopping the lethal force of the blow. It did not, however, stop the momentum from staggering Buford and sending him stumbling backwards into the dining room. The black unicorn’s fall was broken by a table and some chairs set up in the center of the dining room. The table folded in half as the armored unicorn buck struck it, and his flailing hooves sent the four chairs scattering about, one skidding over to a stop near where I was about to land.

My hooves had barely touched the tiled floor before I was turning to face Buford, Luna’s Ruse whipping around to fire off a pair of rapid fire shots towards the entangled stallion and table. But he was no rookie at being in a firefight where the stakes were life and death. Glowing pale white, the table was flung towards the ceiling and me, taking both shots and deflecting them from the downed bandit leader. I ducked under the table as it flipped end over end, one of the legs grazing my head as it crashed into the wall behind me with a clatter of wood, metal, and tiles.

I lashed out with my hooves, catching one of the chairs that had been knocked over from Buford’s tumble with my hind legs. The chair was sent skidding across the floor, striking the rising unicorn and throwing off his aim. His revolver fired, the round spraying my face with broken tile and wooden floor boards. Four shots. He had one left and would likely be desperate to use it on me. He, however, had other ideas.

The barrel of Luna’s Ruse began to glow and was suddenly jerked downwards to point at the floor. The sudden movement caused my tongue to pull back on the trigger, sending a round through the wooden floorboards. Suddenly, the weapon jerked hard in my mouth, and the firing bit slid through my teeth and out of my mouth completely before the entire weapon began to spin rapidly, tightening the strap around my throat. I gasped for breath, reaching up with my forehooves to grab ahold of the tightening noose around my neck, eyes flying to Buford.

The unicorn's horn was glowing brightly as he struggled to hold my gun in his magical grip. Luckily, it seemed he wasn’t skilled enough to hold both it and his revolver, as the weapon was floating down near the floor. Still, he wouldn’t need it if he strangled me to death. I gasped for air as the strap twisted. Shit, shit, shit! I couldn’t get my hooves under the strap... it was too tightly wrapped around my throat.

My right front hoof grasped around desperately for something to cut the cord, something to free me. Slapping at the counter, I felt something round touch the edge of my hoof, and looking over, I saw a stack of plates had been knocked over. One lay near my hoof... if I could just... reach it...!

My hoof finally landed atop the dust-covered metal plate and pulled it closer until I could get a good hold of it. Once I had it, I locked my eyes back on Buford’s sweat-covered face and flung the plate as hard as I could at my target. If I’d been thinking more clearly I would have activated S.A.T.S., but the loss of air does funny things to a pony. Fortunately, I didn’t need the magical spell within my Pipbuck to strike my glowing target. The tarnished metal plate spun through the air, striking Buford squarely in the forehead just at the base of his horn. With a sudden cry of pain, the glow faded, as did the grip on my shotgun.

I dropped to the floor, not having realized I’d been pulled up onto my hind legs by the force of the magical grip. Gasping for breath, I hurriedly unwrapped the strap from around my throat. The stale humid air within the building had never smelled so damned good.

Rising back to my forehooves, I saw the trailing end of the bandit’s trench coat disappearing into a doorway at the end of the dining room. My sudden move had driven him deeper into the apartment. I’d already begun to follow him, checking the ammo count on my shotgun and gulping air greedily into my lungs. I had seven shots left. As I drew near, I saw his revolver reappear around the corner of the doorway. Seems he’d gotten over the horn ache I’d given him. The weapon fired off his final shot. Luckily for me, I’d already expected the move and ducked down at the first sign of the magically floating weapon. The round zipped harmlessly over my head and struck the overturned table behind me. Five shots. He was out. Time to finish this. Without their leader, the rest of the Blackhoofs would either turn tail and run, or be much easier to pick off. Either way worked to the advantage of my friends and I.

Gritting my teeth on the firing bit of Luna’s Ruse, I rushed the doorway, eyes narrowed as I heard him retreating further into the apartment. As I neared the door, I slowed to a trot and carefully rounded the corner into the hallway. He might be out of ammo for his revolver, but he likely had a backup or some other trick up his trenchcoat. My right forehoof brushed across something in the floor and I looked down, seeing a single brass shell casing rolling away from my black hoof to a pile of four more. With alarm, I jerked my head back up and towards the far end of the hallway, where Buford was standing, his revolver glowing in his magical grip. The cylinder snapped shut as he cocked the hammer back. He had spare ammo for that thing? Of course he had spare bucking ammo! I ducked back into the dining room as two rounds struck the doorway behind me, showering me with wood chips and dust.

So not fucking fair...

Carefully, I peered around the corner of the doorway and down the hallway. Buford held his fire for the moment, so I quickly got a feel for the area in front of me. Like the living room, the hallway’s floor consisted of bare boards covered in a heavy layer of dust. A single light fixture hung from the ceiling, but emitted no light. On the right side of the hallway were two doors, one only a few hoofsteps from where I stood. The other remained at the end near the room Buford had taken cover in. Both the room and the far end of the hall appeared damaged. Looking at the ceiling, I saw evidence that the roof had likely caved in on that side of the building, probably blocking the last door completely with debris. Off to the left of the hallway, I saw another door situated roughly between the two on the right.

“Give it up, Buford! You're not getting outta here!” I yelled down the hallway at the bandit, giving myself time to figure out how I was going to get to him. Just then, the far right side doorway rattled loudly, drawing the attention of the Blackhoofs’ leader. With a snarl, the unicorn reappeared from the left side and fired off another round into the door. I heard a muffled shout of surprise that sounded like Balefire. He must have found the stairs inside the building when he’d heard the gunfire upstairs.

Not wasting anymore time, I broke from the cover of the dining room and dove into the closest doorway to my right. Luckily, the door was open and I tumbled into a bedroom. Rolling across the dust and dirt covered floor, I struck the bed and winced from the pain in my flanks. The headboard of the bed struck the wall and, from the other side, I heard a voice call out my name.

“Shadow! Are you alright?!” It was Balefire. He must have been standing in a stairway on the other side of the wall.

“Balefire! Fire through that door!” I yelled through the wall, picking myself up to stumble to the bedroom door. Buford had to have heard me yell, so there was no time to waste. As I dove through the doorway out into the hall, I saw Buford adjusting his aim towards me from his hiding spot before a yipping yell echoed from the stairway, followed by a hail of lead that exploded from the sealed door. Though small caliber, Balefire’s revolvers were nasty at close range, and the dark green unicorn must have been right up next to the door. Each shot sent out chunks of wood as they passed through the door. The noise drew Buford's attention away from me once more, and I hurriedly scrambled into the left side door. It was shut, and I had no way of knowing if it was locked, but I’d yet meet a door that could stop a pony running full speed into it.

The door gave with a groan of hinges, the door knob breaking free and flying back into the hallway as I skidded to a halt within the apartment’s bathroom tiles. Fortunately, I managed to keep from striking the sink with my head, and hurriedly righted myself back towards the door. Peering back around the corner, I saw the last few rounds from Balefire’s guns burst through the wooden door before the pony himself yelled out.

“Door’s blocked by the roof! I can’t get it open!” Buford took the opportunity to fire at the source of the voice and I heard a cry of pain come from the door, followed by the sounds of something falling down stairs.

Balefire.

No.

My eyes locked with Buford’s as he turned away from the doorway, the smug look on the unicorn’s face fading quickly. With a snarl of rage, I charged down the hallway. Luna’s Ruse dropped from my teeth as my hooves pounded across the creaking wooden floor boards, closing the distance between myself and the Blackhoofs’ leader.

His eyes widened in surprise as he attempted to bring his revolver back to bear on me, but I was simply too fast and not about to give him a chance to use it again. Rearing back on my hind legs, I sprang across the threshold of the doorway and into him, slamming him hard with my forehooves and sending us both into the back wall of the bedroom. The force of our impact dislodged several pictures that had been hanging between two large windows overlooking the streets. The photos dropped to the floor between our stamping hooves, shattering the glass in the frames.

As he floated his revolver back towards me, I hauled back with my right foreleg and struck him hard across the jaw, causing his horn to sputter and the revolver to clatter to the floor. He recovered quickly and shoved me back with his own forehooves, sending me stumbling to the floor. It gave out a groan of protest to the sudden weight being forced upon it after so long. He slammed down atop me, left hoof impacting my cheek in a hard blow. The blow stung like hell, and my hat tumbled from atop my head. The attack was followed by another aimed at my nose, which I quickly blocked with my Pipbuck. The hard hoof struck the near-indestructible metal leg band with a clang that caused the bandit to rear back with a yelp of pain.

Using the opening, I knocked him off of me and onto the floor beside me. The unicorn grunted heavily as his face impacted the dust covered floor, which seemed to yield slightly to the pony’s weight atop it. Climbing unsteadily to my hooves, I reached for the firing bit of my shotgun to end this. Buford’s horn flared to life once more, matching a glow around my weapon.

Not this time...

Reaching up with my right foreleg, I grabbed ahold of the already-glowing weapon to keep it from being yanked free of my mouth. Already I could feel the tug on the end of the gun, my teeth clamping down hard on the fighting bit as we struggled for the weapon. With my hoof, I slowly began to turn the barrel towards the downed unicorn, intent to end this struggle. Seeing his trick wasn’t going so well this time, Buford scrambled to his hooves and narrowly dodged two shots aimed at his chest. The rounds left holes in the floor, earning a tremor through the wooden planks. Looking about wildly for his own dropped weapon, he spotted it beside the room’s bed and lunged for it with his hoof.

Still fighting his magical grip, I lashed out with a hind leg and kicked the revolver under the bed and out of his reach for the moment. I squeezed the trigger once more, Luna’s Ruse roaring out and once more missing Buford by inches yet again, blowing a sizeable hole in the abused floor. Desperately, the unicorn lunged towards me and slammed me back against the floor, fighting for the weapon in my mouth. He slammed his left forehoof into my face and my head struck the floor, causing me to see stars and black spots in my vision. It also caused the floor to shake yet again, followed by several snaps and deep groans.

Oh fuck, not again...

The floor gave a shake, as support beams under the floor gave up their fight with gravity and the newly made holes from my shotgun. Wooden floorboards bent and, with a mighty crack, it all gave way and sent us plunging down into the first floor. It must have been a shop in the past, because there were a good deal of shelves in the room. I know this because I passed through about six of them on my way to the floor.

I felt, more then heard, something snap in my back as I landed hard upon a pile of broken floorboards, shelves, and assorted pieces of trash. Buford crashed hard upon my chest a second later, knocking out whatever wind that hadn’t already been expelled from my lungs. Bits of the ceiling continued to rain down atop us as the shelves we’d knocked over began a domino effect throughout the room, sending empty glass jars and soda bottles to the floor in a shower of glass shards.

As I lay there gathering my wits, I took the chance to look over the first floor quickly. The building had once been a general store of some sort, judging by the rows of empty shelves inside, most of which still stood upright. There was room for countless items to be put on display, but now the only thing resting upon them was years worth of dust and cobwebs, along with empty glass jars and bottles like the ones we’d broken on the way down. Looking off to my left, I saw the shelves ended near a row of glass counters. The glass had long since been shattered and now lay strewn across the floor. Like the shelves, the cases were empty, but I could still see faded posters and signs sitting inside, advertising the items that had once rested within.

Behind the counter was a wall with more shelves and two doors. One was shut and likely lead into a back room. The other appeared to have steps going to the second floor, but most of it was blocked by the end of the counter. I looked to my right to the front of the store and a pair of windows on either side of the front door. They allowed a bit of light to filter through their moth eaten curtains. It did little, though, to dispel the heavy shadows in the corners of the room.

Seconds had passed as I’d scanned the room, my head aching but my breath slowly coming back to me. Though even breathing was turning out to be painful. The weight on my chest was removed a second later, as Buford stumbled to his hooves, but I was a bit quicker to recover than the unicorn; after all, I had experience falling through floors (not something I’d put on a job resume, to be honest). I lashed out with my hind legs, catching the stumbling unicorn by surprise and sending him face first into the floor with a muffled cry.

Had to keep the pressure on him. Slowly, painfully, I rolled over onto my hooves, ignoring the red flashing warnings in my vision about broken ribs. They’d been broken before, they could wait. Raising my head, I spotted a dark green crumpled form laying just at the end of the counter near the stairs. His fallen revolvers lay nearby along with a small pool of blood. I took a step towards him, when a wooden plank slammed into my face, breaking my nose (once more) and coating the end of the plank with my blood.

“No time ta worry ‘bout yer friend... should worry ‘bout yerself.” Buford said, that damned smug grin returning as he swung the plank once more in his magical grip at my face. I had no time to dodge or duck and simply took it.

SMACK!!

The blow staggered me back several steps and my hooves became tangled in the pile of debris that was scattered across the floor. I attempted to right myself, but the sudden move wrenched my back and white hot fire laced up my spine as I dropped to the floor on my knees. Right into the piles of broken glass. Wincing in pain, I heard the board behind me drop, and something metal dragging along wood. Turning my head was painful, but what I saw floating towards me would be far more.

I dropped down into the glass, feeling the shards digging into my belly and legs, but I avoided the four inch piece of metal pipe that sailed over my head. As it passed, I climbed to my hooves among the pile of wooden and glass debris, clawing my way into a more clear area of the floor. I wasn’t fast enough, and I cried out as the pipe struck my flank where a bullet had previously grazed me.

The blow sent me stumbling into one of the still mostly upright shelves, more empty jars crashed to the floor along with rusted cans and cardboard boxes. More warnings flashed in my vision, ignored as I gripped the shelf to pull myself upright. Heavy hoof steps behind me made it clear that Buford was following me. The uneven ground caused the stallion to stumble to my left and in an instant I seized upon a chance. Pulling all my weight on the shelf, I brought it back upright and then tipped it forwards. With a startled cry, the shelf crashed atop Buford, knocking the pipe from the unicorn’s grip. However, it failed to pin him to the floor as I’d hoped. The uneven pile of rubble stopped it before it could.

Hurriedly, I ducked behind the shelf as Buford picked his pipe back up and swung it towards my face. The heavy makeshift weapon cracked the side of the shelf in as it struck. I stumbled out from behind the shelf and ducked another swing of his pipe. The weapon whistled through the air before striking a section of ceiling with a heavy thunk and becoming wedged firmly. My teeth closed around the firing bit of Luna’s Ruse and I brought the weapon back up towards him. With a grunt, he tried to tug his weapon free, before he saw me lifting up my shotgun.

I squeezed the trigger twice, emptying the weapon. The muzzle flash from the weapon lit up the darkened room, casting crazy shadows all about the place. The shell struck Buford hard on his left shoulder. At this range, the armor could only do so much, and took less than half the force of the strike. The black armored shoulder pad blew apart in a cloud of metal fragments and blood as the slug found bare flesh below. The bandit leader grunted heavily at the hit and stumbled backwards as the second round hit him in the chest. The armor here was a bit thicker, and while the first shot had sent the stallion stumbling, the second shot only grazed his armored body. Still, it blew a sizeable piece of metal from the armor and punched hard enough to break bone as I heard him scream in pain before he dropped down atop the rubble.

The force of the shotgun’s kick knocked me back onto my flank, and I winced as I sat there, breathing heavily. My red warning signs of injuries continued to flash, which the ammo count for my shotgun soon joined, warning that I was out of ammo. For a moment, I allowed myself a second to breath, before I painfully turned and reached for my saddlebags and the spare ammo. I had to finish this fight and check on Balefire... there was still a red and green dot in the room with me, so I knew both were still alive. The sounds of gunfire coming from outside had begun growing closer, as well as a couple of red dots.

With a click of my right hoof, which had a number of glass shards sticking out of it painfully, the drum to Luna’s Ruse snapped open and released twelve empty slots for shells. I brushed my sore snout against the latch to my saddlebag and began withdrawing shells one by one with my teeth, blood dripping down my nose across the shells and into the pack. I’d gotten six shells in when the sound of movement caught my attention. I looked up to see Buford stirring from where he’d been laying. I quickly slotted the seventh shell in place before flicking it closed hurriedly.

Both Buford and I rose to our hooves at the same time. Reaching for my firing bit, I caught the glow of his horn in the corner of my eye, and heard the sound of wood snapping as something broke free. I closed my lips around the bit and was hauling the weapon up when the pipe slammed once more into the side of my face. My jaws closed around the firing bit and the weapon fired, missing Buford by inches as the slug buried itself into the wooden counter at the end of the room. With my ears ringing, I stumbled back, dazed before another hit struck me in the chest and caused the pain in my ribs to flair up. I screamed out, dropping the bit of my shotgun as I collapsed to the floor.

Faintly, I heard something metal strike the floor and looked up through narrowed eyes as Buford floated his revolver up to him. It must have slid close to the hole and dropped through when he’d pulled the pipe free. Speaking of the pipe; it slammed into my jaw and sent me skidding across the floor and out through the door. I rolled a couple times across the porch and stumbled down into the street. At this point everything was flashing red in my vision. I snorted, blowing a cloud of dust up from my snout. Hoofsteps came from the porch as Buford followed me outside.

I rolled over, excruciatingly, and looked up. Buford looked to be as in bad a shape as I felt. He was limping, favoring his left front leg. Blood was running from a gash in his forehead and nose. He held his right hoof against his chest where I’d shot him, and he’d lost his hat. Ha. Take that, you son of a bitch... got your damned hat! He arched a brow as I snorted in laughter before floating his revolver up near his face. One eye was swollen shut so he aimed down the iron sights with the other.

“Told ya, yer type never lives long enough...” The glow around the trigger flared as he began pulling it.

I stared down the barrel of the gun, as my hooves fumbled with the shotgun pressed against my chest. Well, this wasn’t how I expected my day to end... but it didn’t. Suddenly, the revolver that had been pointing at my face was just gone, replaced by a shower of sparks and hot jagged bits of metal. Buford’s head jerked back in shock as his weapon simply blew apart before his face. The report of a rifle echoed around the narrow streets of Oddwick as I lay there in surprise.

Buford pulled his head back a moment later. As he did, I saw a trickle of blood running down his face between his eyes and dripping off the end of his nose. A bullet had struck the revolver he’d held and ricocheted into the stallion’s forehead, glancing off his horn before striking him in the head. It had not been shock that had caused the Blackhoofs’ leader to jerk his head back, but rather the force of the impact. The already-dead unicorn crossed his eyes comically to look at what had killed him, before he simply dropped to his knees and then his side on the porch, blood dripping from the nasty wound.

I turned my head slowly to the right, looking back down the street towards where it had all started, and saw Stonehoof lowering his rifle. The barrel was still smoking from his last shot as he began running towards me. I grinned and waved a hoof at the earth pony before dropping back onto the ground with a grunt of pain and staring at the overcast grey sky above. The distant sounds of gunfire reached my ears over the steady thump of hooves on dirt as my friend drew near, and I let out a relaxed sigh. A moment later, the lazy drifting clouds were blotted out by the sight of Stonehoof’s face appearing in my field of vision. A worried look covered his face as sweat dripped down his forehead.

“Heya, Stonehoof...” I said, grinning stupidly up at my friend.

“Ya alright there, Shadow?” the stallion asked, ears perked towards me as the sounds of gunfire died. His green eyes quickly scanned my bloody body and he frowned. “Hang on a sec,” he added, before looking away from me and turning his head to do something out of my view. I heard the rustle of cloth as a saddlebag was pulled open, and the noise of objects rubbing against one another.

“Yeah... I’m good... just a couple extra holes... nothing new really for me,” I said calmly, eyes wandering from the stallion kneeling beside me back to the sky before I remembered something. My eyes darted back to my friend and I tiredly prodded him with a bloody hoof. “Oh... ya know, you're gonna have to teach me how to do that sometime.” I waved my hoof off towards the porch and the dead body atop it.

My friend just chuckled and turned back around to face me. He held something in his mouth: a small glass bottle with red liquid inside. He reached up with his forehooves to take ahold of the bottle and pulled the cork off with his teeth. He pushed the open bottle to my mouth and held my head up so I could drink.

“Ah’m afraid Ah missed...” I blinked at that as I opened my mouth to drink the health potion that he’d found Celestia-knows-where. Stone missed a shot? Impossible! “Ah was actually aimin’ for his head,” he said, giving me a sheepish grin. I snorted in laughter, nearly choking on the thing he’d given me to save my life.

“Close enough...” I managed to sputter out after clearing my throat and getting my breath back. Already I could feel the potion beginning to heal my wounds, stopping the flow of blood, knitting my bones back together, and easing the pain that went along with all that. Gritting my teeth, I felt another pain, small and sharp. I looked over to see a vial of Med X in Stone’s hoof. At once, the pain faded and I lay back on the ground. Well, for a moment at least, until I remembered Balefire. I waved a hoof towards the store. “Balefire’s inside... he got shot...”

“I’m fine, boss,” a tired voice said from that same doorway. My ears perked up and I tried to lean up a bit more to see better. With Stone’s help, I managed to rise to a sitting position, and spotted the dark green unicorn stumbling out through the store’s doorway. His revolvers were holstered at his side and he was leaning on Carrion, who had a foreleg around his fellow unicorn to help him walk. There was something about him that was different and it wasn’t until I noticed how much duller the glow from his horn was that I figured it out. I arched a brow and waved a hoof to a dark hat resting atop his horned head. Seeing the look, the young buck grinned and tipped it back with a hoof. “Seemed a shame to let such a nice hat go to waste, since he doesn’t need it anymore. Besides, helps me blend in with the rest of you,” he said with a nod of his head towards the body of Buford.

Carrion rolled his glowing orange eyes and allowed the young buck to sit down on the top step of the porch. Balefire rested against the wooden support beam while the ghoul trotted down into the street and looked over to me. “Well, I have to admit... you're crazier than Wildfire.”

“Ah think Ah’ll keep outta this conversation,” Stone said with a chuckle, looking back over to me as he produced another health potion from his saddlebag and helped me drink it.

Hell, I could go for a twenty four hour nap after all that. I laid back on the warm dry gravel road, staring up once more at the sky and the drifting grey clouds. A moment later, an orange shape zipped past the vast grey wall before dropping down towards us. With only the rustle of feathers to announce her arrival, an orange mare landed lightly beside me.

“Good plan, handsome. That’ll keep you outta trouble in the future.” Wild flashed a grin and wink towards Stone before she looked over the rest of us, her blue eyes settling on me. A slender orange hoof rose up to nudge me in the side and her grin grew. “Now, if you boys are finished relaxing, there’s still a lot to do before the sun decides to take another early nap.”

“No rest for the wicked, eh?” I asked, sitting the second empty glass bottle down beside me as I rose fully to my hooves. Despite the healing power, it would take my body a couple hours to fully repair all the damage it had suffered, but with the Med X flowing through my system, I at least wouldn’t feel it.

“Or the heroes,” Wild added with a smile towards me.

I snorted softly to that and shook my head slowly. It seemed my long nap would have to wait.

As I thought, once word of Buford’s death had reached the surviving bandits, their will to fight quickly broke. Most of them fled the town, seeking safety within the surrounding mountains and hills of the wasteland rather than face the wrath of the ponies who’d just kicked their flanks; a group of ponies who just so happened to be on their last legs. If they’d decided to make a fight of it, I’m not sure how well we would have fared, but fate seemed to smile on us. That, or the bandits were simply cowards at heart and had no real stomach for a fight.

Of my group of friends, Balefire and I were the worst ones off, myself being a bit more banged up than the unicorn. He’d been lucky; the shot had simply grazed his neck, and he’d lost his hoofing and fell down the stairs. The blood I’d seen had been caused by his wound being struck so many times by the stairs on his way down. Everypony had suffered a number of grazing shots, minor cuts, and bruises. Stone had been shot in his shoulder by a small 9mm pistol, but that had hardly slowed the large earth pony down.

I, of course, had suffered a number of injuries, like I always do. Most of them had been blows to my head and chest, along with a number of deep cuts and bruising. Broken ribs, a twisted ankle, a shattered leg bone, and of course, a broken nose and cheek. Luckily, I was getting used to being hit in the face, a fact Wild had commented upon while she wrapped my face in healing bandages. Yeah, most of the bandits we’d killed had a number of health potions and other items on them. I always wondered why the raiders we killed never seemed to use them... I’d thought it was because they were raiders, and thinking was hardly their strong point. But these bandits had also failed to use them. Perhaps there were dumber ponies than me running around?

The last holdouts of the gang were driven from the bank by Wild, Stone, and Carrion an hour after the shootout had begun, ending with the deaths of two more Blackhoof divisions. Surprisingly, not all of the gang had been killed or fled the town during the fighting. Two actually survived their wounds and found themselves on the losing side. Despite Wild’s and Carrion’s suggestion to simply kill them both and put them out of our misery, I decided not to stoop to the bandits’ level and instead had them bound tightly. They would be taken back to Tombstone to stand trial for their crimes against the town. Even in the wasteland there had to be some form of Justice.

At that, Carrion snorted and trotted off, leaving Wild to explain that wasteland justice was found at the end of a gun. Perhaps she was right, but I wasn’t about to start killing unarmed prisoners.

While the others cornered the last holdouts in the bank, Balefire and I went back to check on the settlers. Luckily, during the entire fight, not a single one of the settlers was injured, largely due to the fact that they kept their heads down during most of it. Now that the shooting had stopped, they began to emerge from the barn, looking around worriedly and unsure which side had won. Needless to say, Willow and the others were overjoyed to see us trotting up to the barn and hurriedly rushed out to thank us. The stronger of the settlers began to assist us with our next task: the stolen loot.

It seemed the bandits had not attempted to open the heavy vault door, as the bank looked exactly the way we’d left it, with empty shell casings and drying red pools of blood scattered about the floor. A good thing, too, as Balefire had said while working on the locks. If the bandits had attempted to force the door open, a lot of things inside could have been damaged or completely destroyed. He pointed out that while the more robust electric locks would not have engaged due to there being no power, the manual locks were just as tight. In the end, while it took nearly his entire supply of pins (and a couple of mine) and an hour of work, Balefire did eventually manage to pick all of the locks, proving his cutie mark was more than just for show. The hour was not wasted, however, for while he had been working and I’d been watching his back (the bandits could have simply been regrouping to try and take back the town), the others had gone off to complete a few tasks of their own.

Wildfire had flown back to the sky chariot, not wanting to leave such a valuable piece of old-world tech just sitting around in the desert with the scattered remains of the Blackhoof gang wandering about. She returned twenty minutes later saying she’d spotted what looked like a stagecoach making tracks towards the north. It likely belonged to the surviving gang, but none of us were in any shape to go after it and, luckily, Wild had not decided to tried to deal with it herself.

The sky chariot now sat near the front of the bank, as Willow and a few other mares began loading the bulk of the medical supplies inside. Wild would fly them back to Tombstone, along with the more heavily-wounded settlers, as soon as it was loaded. She would then warn the town of the stagecoach and tell them we’d saved their supplies.

For the past hour, while Wild had been away getting the chariot, Stone and Carrion had seen to the wagons near the saloon. With the help of the brahmin, we had most of them pulled in front of the bank, ready to take the settlers and supplies across the desert back to Tombstone.

The brahmin had been more than willing to assist us since Willow had spoken to them that morning about helping us deal with the Blackhoofs. If it hadn’t been for them, we never would have managed to take down one of Buford’s snipers. Even after prying a board loose on the side of the barn, we never would have gotten Carrion out into the corral without the large bulk of the two headed cows to hide behind. Then, while the bandits’ attention had been fixed upon us opening the barn doors and making a fine show of trotting out, Carrion could have never run across the open space to the other end without first holding onto the side of Mabel and letting her carry him over to the edge of the fence. Once there, he had slipped quietly over the broken fencing and across the street while the bandits had focused fully on us.

After getting Mabel and her sisters hitched up to the wagons, Stonehoof and Carrion had gone off to search the saloon that the Blackhoofs had been using as their home. It was very likely the gang had amassed a pile of loot within their rooms, and perhaps most of this would be items we ourselves could keep to restock our supplies of ammo, food and water. However, there was far more than just a wealth of guns, ammo, and stolen loot inside the saloon. There was, in fact, a far more important discovery waiting inside, in the form of a half dozen slaves: five mares and one stallion. They’d been chained to beds throughout the saloon, and had listened to the sound of fighting throughout the town. Most had been afraid they’d be left to starve to death, or be killed by the local wildlife that would surely swarm the town once the fighting had stopped.

Thus, they were understandably grateful when somepony beside the Blackhoofs or raiders showed up in their rooms. They more than happily told their rescuers the locations of hidden stashes of ammo and medical supplies, along with where they kept small bags of caps. In the end, most of the items recovered from within the saloon belonged either to Tombstone or the settlers, but there was enough left for us to resupply ourselves.

As the rescued slaves joined the rest of us at the bank, they began to tell us their story. Seems they’d been bought from the blackhearted stallion, Shackles, a couple months ago and had been there ever since. They had been payment for something the Blackhoofs had done for the slavers. They told us that the Blackhoofs had indeed been planning on selling the settlers to Shackles, for a hefty sum of caps. Willow had paled at the news, and hugged her daughter tightly at the thought of either of them ending up as the five mares had.

Before returning to the bank, however, Stonehoof found somepony else within the saloon we’d not expected to see again: Roy, the stallion who had most likely sold us and his neighbors out to the Blackhoofs. For what, we could only guess, but I believe Wild and Stone were right when they said it had likely been for caps. Well, he’d not be selling anypony else out ever again, not with his throat slit and his body used for target practice behind the saloon. Stone left him there to rot... an act I found myself unable to disagree with.

Sadly, there was no sign of either the slaver or Buford’s large brother, so both must have been among the five or so ponies that had managed to escape. They had likely been on that stagecoach fleeing northward, and it seemed unlikely we’d be seeing either of them again.

The sun did not set suddenly today. Instead, it slowly made its way across the sky as it had done the first week I’d been upon the surface. I also learned that it was not an unusual occurrence either. Without the Princesses to guide them, the sun and moon rose and fell at their own whim, and sometimes would be in the sky at the same time for several hours... or even days. Just another oddity of the wasteland I’d have to get used to it seemed. One of many.

However, now wasn’t the time to be thinking of that. Now it was simply time to head back to Tombstone. Wild had already left an hour earlier, promising to come back as soon as she’d dropped off the supplies and wounded to the clinic in town.

Tiredly, I climbed up into the wagon. The Med X had worn off a few hours ago, and the aches and pains of my body were starting to catch up with me. The sun was just beginning to set in the west, turning the normally grey clouds a softer white. Off to the east, those clouds turned a darker grey as night began to settle. A cool breeze began picking up as the wasteland settled in for the night. I held my head up, allowing the cool wind to rustle my fur and mane. I smiled and settled down into the seat, before glancing over my shoulder at the sleeping ponies nestled together in the back. My eyes then lifted to the wagon behind me, and the sight of Willow at the driver’s seat. Her daughter lay sleeping beside her.

We’d left Tombstone with a single sky chariot of five ponies and the hopes of the townsfolk that we’d recover their supplies. We were returning with six wagons, over three dozen battered but alive ponies, Tombstone’s stolen winter supplies, and everything that had not been nailed down in the bank or town.

Stonehoof had made sure of that.

Turning back, I gave a nod to Mabel, who began pulling the wagon towards the road.

No rest for the wicked... or heroes, indeed...

Once more, we found our approach to Tombstone attracting a fair deal of attention. I lifted my head towards the walled town and scanned its length for any pony among those gathered I might know. However, we were still too far away for me to make out much. I doubted the focus of our arrival was due to our means of transportation. After all, the town once had frequent visits from caravans traveling out of the north and west, along with those going south across the border. So the sight of five wagons loaded down with boxes of supplies, while no longer routine, would be no cause for so much fuss. Nor could their sudden interest be for those that rode within the wagons; we were all ponies. No griffons, zebras, nor buffalos among us to stand out from the townsfolk and draw their multicolored eyes to our row of wagons.

Behind those curious onlooking heads, smoke from cooking fires drifted lazily above the roofs of homes and businesses, rising into the darkening sky. I lifted my gaze from the rows of ponies to that overcast threatening sky. It was beginning to look as if rain would be a possibility sometime soon. The storm clouds had been gathering for the past several hours, out of the west. Dark and ominous things, similar to the storm that had approached my friends and I near Steeldome. A brief flash of white lightening arched across the dark clouds, forking about wildly. My gaze was pulled away from the sudden light show to a spot of color that had appeared above the town. Or rather, soared into the sky as quickly as that bolt. I smirked and tilted my head a bit to the side as I continued my earlier train of thought.

No, it was most definitely not one of those reasons the townsfolk had gathered atop the walls to see us arrive We were neither travelers or strangers. I had a feeling the reason for the gathering had something to do with the orange pegasus darting out overtop the town’s defensive wall. The orange shape dropped down close to the ground and flew towards us. Even from this distance, I could tell she was grinning.

“Looks like your friend’s gonna have some company, don’tcha know?” called a feminine, yet deep voice just ahead of me. I looked down to see one of Mabel’s two heads looking up towards the incoming orange streak while the other watched the road ahead. I smirked to the brahmin and nodded my head, tipping my hat back with a hoof as I looked back to the rapidly approaching pegasus.

“I suppose you're right. Hopefully she lets us get into town before dragging him off to the hotel,” I answered. I wouldn’t put it past Wild to snatch up her stallion and fly him back into Tombstone, and back to the activities they had been forced to leave. I chuckled at the image of the slender pegasus hauling the large bulk of Stone about the sky. I looked back towards the town and the rapidly approaching mare. With a flap of her wings, she slowed and banked wide to drift over the wagon.

“Well, you lot made good time,” Wild called out a greeting as she circled the wagon once before dropping down to fly slowly beside me. Her wings kicked up a bit of dust as they flapped so near the ground. “Seems I won’t have to worry about coming back to check on you. I just arrived a few hours ago; been helping them unload the wagon for most of it.”

“I trust you had nothing to do with that?” I asked, waving a hoof to the wall and the ponies lining the top. The mare turned her head towards the wall, ears flicking to the side a bit as her grin remained.

“Well, I may have mentioned we’d kicked the Blackhoofs’ flank all the way to Canterlot and back... and we’d saved their supplies... and a bunch of prisoners...” she smirked and flipped upside down. She flew slowly around the wagon once more, forcing me to turn my head to keep my eyes on her. “I may have also told every single mare and some not-so-single mares that you killed ten bandits unarmed with your bare hooves and you’ve got the stamina of a long distance runner.”

“Uh huh...” I said, rolling my eyes as I finally gave up and instead turned back around in my seat. Mabel chuckled deeply, but continued to steadily trot up the rough dirt road. A sudden lurch of the wagon nearly sent me tumbling off and into the road before I got myself steady once more and back on the seat. I turned my head back to look and see what we hit. The left side rear wheel had slipped into a deep rut, causing the whole wagon to shake and groan in protest. If we’d been going faster, we could have broken the wheel. As it was, we were lucky Mabel hadn’t stepped in it and twisted her hoof. Behind us, the other wagons began to slow to a halt.

“So sorry there, didn’t see it until it was too late.” Mabel said with a soft chuckle and bow of her twin heads. I turned back and saw her getting ready to haul us out and braced my hooves on the wooden seat. The brahmin’s own large, wide hooves once again began to dig into the soft gravel and soil surface of the road, easily pulling us free of the rut in seconds. Her stamina, along with her large frame, meant she had little issue with hauling us across the terrain. Since setting out from Oddwick, we’d not had to stop once. It was a testament to the brahmin’s strength and endurance. It put us earth ponies to shame and had explained why we had not been that far behind Wild. Once we were back underway, Wild continued to explain about the ponies lining the wall. It did not set me at ease in the least.

“I figured it’d do them some good.” Wild had once more settled into drifting beside me, wings flapping steadily to hold her aloft. I arched a brow and looked over to my friend. Catching my look, she shrugged her shoulders (since her wings were busy). “There’s more than storm clouds hanging over the town.” She jerked her muzzle back towards the wall. “I honestly have no idea what all’s happened. As soon as I arrived, Spirit and the town doctor took the wounded from me and got them inside the clinic, but while helping one of the nurses with some of the medical supplies, she let it slip that a couple ponies died last night. One of the other nurses told me that there’d been some more problems with bandits, but that we’d have to talk with the mayor.”

“More problems? Did the ones who got away...” A snort from Mabel silenced me, and I looked back to the cow as she turned one of her heads towards me.

“They would have been forced to stop a couple hours ago, don’tcha know? We woulda overtaken them before reaching Tombstone.”

“She’s right, and I didn’t see anything on the flight into town. No signs of that stagecoach anywhere,” Wild added, agreeing with what Mabel had said. “They likely went either west or east to try and avoid Tombstone entirely. Shame, was looking forward to blowing the head off a slaver... ah, well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure those mares kept their hooves off my pony.” She gave me a wink before pulling a 180 and zooming off towards the rear of the column.

Pulling my attention from my thoughts and trying (but failing) to stifle a laugh at the sudden cry of Stonehoof in the rear of the column as he was suddenly set upon by a winged pony, I looked back to Tombstone and the approaching gate. Once we’d gotten close enough, the two rusted slabs of metal and wood began to open wide, allowing us to see into the streets of the town. One of the gates had a set of wheels underneath it to help ease the strain on the ponies pulling the chains.

As we drew closer to the now wide open gate, a few ponies along the wall began to cheer for us, waving their hooves and, in some cases, their hats at us as we passed under them. The noise awakened a number of sleeping forms behind me as Mabel pulled us through the gate and into the town itself.

“What's going on? Are we under attack?!” a mare’s voice asked. It belonged to one of the slaves Stone and Carrion had freed in the saloon. I turned back towards her. The fidgety green unicorn eyed the cheering ponies above her, ears laid back in fright. She turned her pink eyes back to me and cocked her head.

“No, they’re just thankful to see us,” I answered. “Or rather, their winter supplies,” I added as the cheering began to grow as more ponies joined in. More hats were tossed and a couple of shots were let loose into the sky, causing the frightened former slave to duck back into the wagon. Thankfully, the street ahead was largely clear of traffic and cheering ponies. I leaned over to catch Mabel's attentioned and called out, “Take the road straight ahead, Mabel. We’re going to drop the settlers off at the clinic, then the supplies off at the bank.” The brahmin simply nodded both her heads and continued to move up the street. Behind us, more of the wagons began rolling into town through the open gate, met with much the same greeting as we had.

Beyond the gate stretched the street I had chased the bandits’ stagecoach down. Most of the buildings on this street were homes or former stores turned into homes. The sidewalk on either side was lined with ponies, watching as we rode into town. A few waving, a few smiling, and a few just watching. Here or there was the odd pony wearing combat armor and carrying a heavier weapon than the normal townsfolk’ well maintained assault rifles and hunting rifles, along with a couple battle saddles. It looked similar to the deputies’ equipment, minus the badge. These must have been the town guard, the ones patrolling the wall and keeping watch.

As we continued on towards the intersection of the street, the bank came into view as it sat at the end of the row. The doors opened as we rolled past them and Rich, along with his personal assistant, stepped out onto the sidewalk to watch us pass by. The stallion did not cheer as a few townsfolk around him did (personally I wondered if the pony even knew how to smile.) His eyes were fixed upon the wagons hauling the town’s stolen supplies. I suppose I could understand where he was coming from. He was the one responsible for the town’s winter foodstuffs and personal effects, after all. From what I had gathered, it had been something of a family business, and he had had those things taken away from him at gunpoint. He was likely eager to have them locked safely back inside his vault, away from anypony looking to snatch them while they were out in the open.

The slender white mare beside Very Rich, Snowdrop I believe her name was, smiled towards the row of wagons passing her, even waving a hoof to me. I gave the white coated mare a wave in return, before I remembered what Wild had said she’d told the mares of the town. I dropped my hoof back to the seat and turned away from the unicorn, lest she get the wrong idea. I looked across the street towards the Sheriff’s Office instead, and spotted a couple of familiar and welcome faces among the gathered crowd. It was rather easy to spot them among the ponies. They stood out like a sore hoof among my fellow brightly-colored equines that surrounded both sides of them along the sidewalk. It helped that they also stood a full head taller than most ponies.

Razor and Griff, the mercenary griffons we had rescued from the prison train, stepped from the front door of the Sheriff’s Office and walked along the sidewalk. The pair looked up and over the heads of the crowd to spot me. Razor’s face remained blank, but Griff’s beak broke into a grin as he spotted me atop the lead wagon. Calling out behind him, the griffon made his way between the crowd and down onto the well-worn dirt street. His aunt quickly set off beside him. Following the pair closely were Sprak and Jury Rig, the last two surviving members of the Razors mercenary unit. Before they got too far, however, somepony opened the Sheriff’s Office door and called out to them, causing them to stop and turn back to whoever it was.

The last time I’d seen any of them had been just after we’d arrived in Tombstone. The locals had went to greet them, having worked with caravans passing through the town. The last I’d heard of the group was as we were preparing to leave Tombstone for Oddwick. They had gone off to help Sheriff Sweetshot with the ambush that the bandits had set up for the lawmare. If they were back in town, then the friendly Sheriff should be as well. I could then unload the two prisoners we had with us on her and be done with them.

Mabel slowly brought us to a stop at the end of the street and I looked up, before I noticed we’d arrived at the clinic. The familiar white two story wooden building sat beside me on the right. The majority of its formerly broken windows were repaired, judging by the quick look I gave them. As I rose up to drop down to the street below, the clinic’s door opened and a couple more familiar faces appeared from within the building. Spirit set hoof onto the sidewalk and looked over the wagons parking along it in wonder. Upon seeing me, she bowed her horned head in greeting and offered me a warm, if not tired, smile. Behind the large buffalo trotted Doc Mitchell, along with a couple of nurses. It seemed the medical staff of the little town clinic had grown since last I was here. Or perhaps there’d always been that many and I’d just not seen them before.

“Well, I see your reputation for doing what most think impossible is well founded,” the pegasus doctor said as he looked over the wounded ponies climbing out of the wagons. His wings rustled a bit at the sight of some of them. “Just when I thought I’d have some time off,” he snorted before trotting off, calling out to his nurses to hurry up. He stopped before he got too far, turning back to look at me. “Good job, by the way,” he said quickly before turning back to the wounded. Spirit watched him walk off before turning back to me.

“I told him you would return as you promised the mayor, and that you would bring their stolen good back to them.” The buffalo’s smile widened a bit. “After all, promises seem very important to you.”

“My mother always told my sister and I to never make a promise unless we intended to keep it,” I answered, standing up in the wagon’s seat and dropping down over the side and onto the street. My hooves sent up a small cloud of dust as I landed. Sadly, there would be one promise I’d have to break.

“A pony of his word. Such things are rare within the wasteland, as I am sure you are well aware,” my large friend said, eyes scanning the ponies as they climbed from the wagons. Nurses helped those with sleeping children as best they could, while Doc Mitchell looked at the more heavily wounded. “The town will be most greatful that you have returned their supplies to them. However, I am unsure of their feelings towards those you have brought with you.”

I followed her eyes over towards Willow and her child as they climbed down from their wagon with the aid of the nurse who had seen to me. Around them milled worried mares and their young foals, looking about the town with a slight bit of fear and uncertainty. After all, they’d been told to expect no help from Tombstone. For a while, it had probably seemed true. No doubt they would want to go to their husbands, brothers, and friends sitting within the town’s jail, to see them and make sure they were still alive. I had been unable to tell them if their loved one was one of the many who had died while storming the town. Given Spirit’s words, I was unsure how wise it would be to let them go off to the jail. I sighed and shook my head, looking back to my own wagon and helping one of the former slaves to climb down.

“Perhaps it shall just take time, my friend. Time we do not have, not if you wish to return to your own friends and family waiting for you within the large pony city to the west,” Spirit pressed on. She stepped up beside me to help the young abused mare I’d gotten from the wagon, to make her way towards the clinic door.

Watching them, I turned slowly to look over the crowd that had gathered around us. Most were smiling and thanking my friends as they helped the wounded settlers, but a few were giving the injured ponies dark looks. Stone raised a hoof and pushed one stallion away from the wounded ponies in the rear cart. Doctor Mitchell moved to stand beside the large gray earth pony. I snorted and shook my head. She was right, of course. It would take the townsfolk a long time to accept the settlers once more. A lot of damage had been done to their trust in that unprovoked attack. Their supplies had been stolen, ponies were attacked and some even killed. I suppose it would be foolish to think there’d not been consequences for those events. The mares and foals, however... they could hardly be called killers. I had faith that no matter the amount of anger, nopony could blame them. But what if they did? I couldn’t exactly stay here, and why should they listen to me? I mean, I wasn’t anypony they should or would listen to. Just a security pony a long, long way from his stable.

“Everything alright?” a voice called out from behind. I turned to see Balefire trotting down the sidewalk towards me, helping a mare with a bandaged hoof along the sidewalk. Behind the young unicorn, Carrion trotted along, being followed by a couple of curious foals who were amazed at the ghoul pony. Once or twice, I saw a colt get brave enough to try and touch the stallion’s rotting hoof before glowing orange eyes turned on him, and he would drop his small hoof back to the sidewalk. Behind them, the last of the settlers were being helped by Stone and Wild. Meanwhile, the doctor spoke to several townsfolk, looking to try and smooth things over with them. Most of the settlers seemed ready for their month-long nightmare to finally be over, and I prayed they’d not have to face the town’s anger.

“I’m not sure... there could be some trouble with the townsfolk over the attack. I get the feeling we’ll want to get them inside the clinic as soon as possible.”

“It’s a hard thing to forgive blood spilled,” Carrion said as the foals hurried after their mothers. The ghoul’s eyes passed from pony to pony before he looked over to the gathering townsfolk. The undead unicorn turned his head to look back down the row of carts as voices began to increase in volume from where Doc Mitchell and some of the townsfolk stood. The pegasus’ eyes were narrowed and his wings open as he stood beside a couple of larger earth ponies.

“They killed my friend, and we’re just gonna let ’em walk around like it ain’t nuthin’?” one of the earth ponies was asking, rather loudly, earning the attention of several of the skittish mares who hurriedly pushed their children towards the clinic door. Spirit had stepped back out and was holding it open for them. The stoic and mostly silent buffalo watched the yelling match.

“They’re not going to be just walking around, not in their condition at any rate. They will be staying in the clinic. As for whether they are welcome in town, that’s up to the mayor and the judge to decide, not the town's loudest pony,” Mitchell responded, not seeming to back down from the large stallion.

“Well, Ah say that ain’t good enough. Th’ mayor ain’t gonna do nothin’ anyway,” the loud mouthed stallion said, ears laying back in anger. His hoof came up to shove the smaller pegasus doctor back a couple steps. “Should string ’em all up in th’ jail, not just th’ ones the judge said was guilty. They’re all guilty of attackin’ us, stealin’ our food... how we suppose ta know if they ain’t just gonna stab us in th’ back first chance they got? Ah think we should make sure they can’t.” Unsurprisingly, several ponies around the earth pony were nodding their heads in agreement. After all, he was only saying what a good deal of them seemed to feel.

“Ah reckon we oughta put a stop ta this, ‘fore it gets outta hoof,” Stone said, standing up to do just that. I agreed. Thus far nopony had been hurt, but with tempers high it was only a matter of time. But before we could take a half dozen steps towards the gathering, somepony, or rather someone, else took care of it. A good thing too, as the doctor was about to get a punch in the face.

The raised hoof never landed, as a clawed hand wrapped about the limb and stopped it mid flight towards the wide eyed pegasus. The owner of the hoof gave out a startled cry at the strong grip and looked back into the face of a not-so-happy Razor. The female griffon easily hauled the large muscle bound earth pony right off his remaining foreleg as she stood up with her wings flared. The stallion’s eyes went wide and his hind legs began to shake. Stepping up beside his aunt, Griff smiled pleasantly to the pony.

“Now, my aunt’s not known for her patience, so trust me when I say you're seconds away from requiring the good doctor’s talents at mending a couple broken bones.” Stepping away from his aunt and between the crowd and the doctor, he turned and continued to smile. “That goes for anyone attempting to take the law into their own hands... or hooves, in your cases.”

From the back of the crowd an either brave or very stupid pony called out, “What's it any business of yers, ya ain’t th’ law round here!”

“For the time being, my aunt and our companions are just as much the law as your deputies. The mayor’s asked us to assist the local law enforcement ponies as well as your own town guard in getting things back on track around here.” That got their attention in a hurry, along with mine. Had they lost that many in the attacks? “Now, if you’ll please all return to your homes or go about your business and allow the good doctor to go about his.” With a nod to his aunt, the powerful griffon opened her clawed hand and allowed the pony to drop back to all four hooves, nearly resulting in him falling face first into the dirt. While I’m sure this wouldn’t be the end of things, the crowd of ponies largely disbanded and began filtering back to their shops or elsewhere in town. As they did, I got a better look at the griffons and the two ponies that traveled with them who had been covering the crowd from the rear.

They’d been using piecemeal raider weapons and bits of armor the last time I’d seen them. Now, however, it appeared they’d found far better replacements. The broken and battered armor they’d been wearing looked to have been recently repaired, the missing bits replaced with salvaged raider armor. The pale green armor and clothing with the bright yellow stripes they’d been wearing when I’d first seen them was now matched with bits of black and red armor plating. Luckily, all of the former raider accessories- ears, hooves, eyes, and the like- had been removed, along with a good deal of the spikes. Their formerly empty weapon holsters were now home to an impressive array of small arms and knifes.

The rusted and near worthless assault rifles they’d been using had also been replaced. Razor sported a large-barreled weapon that, if I didn’t know better (and I’m not sure that I did), looked like it belonged on a damned mount of some sort. It bore a massive banana style clip which was open in the middle, revealing some large rounds inside. Her nephew carried far more manageable weapons: a standard issue Equestrian assault rifle, with what looked like a grenade launcher mounted below, hanging from around his neck in the manner that I wore Luna’s Ruse. Swung over the younger griffon’s shoulder was a simple pump action shotgun. Sparks also had an assault rifle over her neck, though it was missing Griff’s add-on (I idly wondered if I could find myself one of those). Beyond this, she had far more pistols strapped to her armor than anyone else. Lurking in the unicorn’s shadow was Juryrig, whose only weapon I could see was a simple 9mm pistol holstered against her chest. However, she had a large number of packs across her small frame. In short, the four appeared to be a walking armory and looked the part of mercenaries quite well.

“Well, it looks like you guys actually pulled it off... Razor and I were just talking about coming to check on you lot when that your winged friend dropped in with her fancy chariot,” Griff said as he walked down the row of wagons towards us, that smile still on his beak. “Had a rough time I take it?” he asked, waving a clawed hand towards my bloody armor and jumpsuit. There’d been no time to wash up before setting off. There’d also been no clean water to use, and I wasn’t about to use any of our drinking water for something like this. I snorted and nodded my head.

“You could say that, but I doubt the town will be needing to worry about the Blackhoofs for a while,” I answered as the last of the crowd moved away from the clinic. The pair of troublemakers from earlier gave the backs of the griffons the evil eye. “We took care of most of the gang. A few got away, but without access to their supplies or one of their leaders, I doubt they’ll cause much trouble for anypony for awhile.”

“Wildfire told us you killed Buford. Nasty son of a bitch, had dealings with him before. Good riddance to ’em. At this point, I don’t think the townsfolk could handle any more problems than what they’ve had in the past couple days,” Griff said, looking over to the ponies we passed on the road. Like the crowd around the clinic, most of them had started back to their homes. I arched a brow and looked a little closer at them myself.

Despite the welcome we were getting, I saw some of the same looks I’d seen in the troublemakers’ eyes a few minutes ago. Wild’s words came back to me and a knot was beginning to form in my stomach as I watched their faces pass. While a good number of them had cheered, a equally large number were giving some of us a dark look.

“I get the feeling a lot more happened than I know... what happened after we left, Griff? Wild said she’d heard talk of more ponies dying, and I heard just now that stallion talking about stringing ponies up?” Griff had this look in his eyes as if he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how to begin or even if he should. I waited to see if he would eventually say something. Finally after several more seconds of silence, he spoke up.

“It’s not really my place to say. The mayor, however, wishes to speak to you as soon as possible. I know most of what he’s going to tell you will answer your questions.” He waved a clawed hand towards the building ahead of us. “We’ll be keeping an eye on the ponies you brought back with you, make sure nopony bothers them while they’re being treated. Out of sight, out of mind, I suppose,” he added, shrugging his wings a bit.

“You’re really working for the town then?” I asked as my mind mulled over what he’d said. The mayor would explain everything, and it was clear they’d been expecting trouble long before we returned with the settlers. I also had an idea what stringing a pony up meant, and it had been directed at the captured ponies in the jailhouse. That knot in my stomach was growing.

“Yeah, the mayor asked us to stay and give them a hand getting the town’s defences set back up. Giving us free room and board, along with three square meals a day for all four of us. Razor talked it over with us. Well, she had me do the talking anyway. It’s a good deal for both the town and ourselves.” The male griffon looked over at his companions before adding, “After what happened out with that caravan and the raiders, I’d say we could use a little rest for awhile.”

“I know the feeling,” I said simply and looked over at my own friends. We were all tired and ready to drop. To them I added, “Why don’t the rest of you go get some sleep. I’ll go see the mayor and get things straightened out, and then meet you at the saloon.” Wild merely grinned and sidestepped into Stone’s shoulder.

“Come on handsome, there’s a couple more bottles of Wild Pegasus over at the Drunken Mare with our names on it.” She leaned in and nuzzled from his jaw up behind his ear, purring “And I still owe you for that impressive shooting display you did.” Tugging on his saddlebags with a hoof, the winged pony lifted into the air and headed off towards the saloons. Stone started to follow before he looked back to me, and I simply nodded my head with a smile, waving a hoof at him.

“I could actually go for something to drink and eat as well,” Balefire said, yawning a bit before giving me a nod and trotting off after the others. Carrion, after a moment’s silence, merely left and headed into town on his own business. That left me and the four mercenaries outside the clinic. The doctor had already gone inside sometime while we’d been talking, and the sun had finally set.

“The mayor’s at town hall, just at the end of the street,” Griff answered my unasked question, pointing a clawed finger down the street where my friends had just left. “Large three-story brick and wood building with a small tower, ya can’t miss it.”

“Thanks for keeping an eye on them, Griff. They’ve had a rough time.” The griffon nodded his head slowly and seemed to want to say something else, but couldn't for whatever reason. He sighed and finally began telling the others to head on into the clinic.

Griff was right, you couldn’t miss it; it was right smack dab in the middle of where the street ended along, with smaller buildings on either side. Like much of the town, and indeed every building in the wasteland, the paint was faded and peeling. There were a number of cracks and broken bits along the trim, windows, and doors, but its roof seemed solid. A set of stairs led up to the double doors, and I hurriedly trotted up them to meet with the mayor.

Only the left side door appeared to be working. The other had been nailed shut sometime in the past, judging by the rust stains on the faded brown paint. Pushing the door open, I stepped into the lobby of the large building and looked around. A few wooden benches lined either side of the room, with what looked like pots for long-dead plants. Old photos and pictures hung from the faded yellow walls, while the ceiling was an off-white color. In the center of the room was a red wooden desk, neatly organized with piles of paper and books. A working terminal sat quietly beside a row of books on law (judging by the names on the spines). Behind the desk sat an aged unicorn stallion, his features highlighted by the glowing green screen he worked on.

As the door shut behind me, the blue-green stallion lifted his eyes from the terminal screen. He looked over a pair of worn reading glasses with lenses that seemed to enlarge his already large orange eyes. Arching a brow, he cleared his throat and cocked his ears towards me.

“Can Ah help ya?”

“I’m here to see the mayor. My name’s Shadow,” I answered, trotting up to the desk and looking behind it as I came to a stop. A large central staircase lead up to the second floor directly behind the desk. On either side of it were four doors, two on each side. Two faced the front door, the other lead off to each side of the building.

“Ah’m sorry, but th’ mayor’s not in any condition ta be seein’ anypony right now. Ya’ll have ta come back tomorrow,” the older stallion said, looking back down to the terminal as he did.

Condition? What the hell was going on? My ears swiveled back and I placed both forehooves upon the desk, pushing my face close to the pony sitting beside it. I stared him in the eyes as I ever so politely refrained from swearing like Wild.

“Look, I’ve been getting the runaround since I got back into town. Somepony’s going to answer my questions. Now.”

“Ah... uh... Ah...” Luckily there was somepony on hoof to save the focus of my ire, as a mare trotted out from one of the doors to the right of the desk.

“It’s alright, Clip, th’ mayor’s expectin’ th’ Marshall here for a meetin’,” Lucy said, stepping up to the desk. She placed a hoof upon the older stallion’s shoulder and gently pushed him and his chair back from my face. She turned to me and offered me a small smile in greeting. “It’s good ta see th’ bandits didn’t hurt ya none, Marshall. After what they did ta th’ town and out at th’ farm... well, some was beginnin’ ta think ya may’a been killed.”

As she placed herself between us, my eyes shifted from the source of my frustration to the deputy pony. The mare looked tired; there were dark circles under her purple eyes, her armor and clothing had seen better days (more so than the norm for a pony living in the wasteland), her hat was covered in dust, and her teal mane and tail looked as if she’d just woken up from a bad dream. However, there was something else about the mare that seemed off... I just couldn’t put my hoof on it...

“Almost didn’t make it back. Luckily, my friend’s aim is better than that of the Blackhoofs’ leader,” I answered. She turned and started to trot back the way she’d came, motioning for me to follow. “What's going on around here, Lucy?”

“Nothin’ good, that’s for sure,” she said with a sigh, pushing the door open with her hoof and stepping inside. I followed and found myself in what looked to be somepony’s office. It included an assortment of furniture, from a large wooden desk near the back wall to tables, chairs, and couches. It was actually quite nice and well organized. As my focus returned to the mare, she walked over to one of the tables in the corner of the room. Her horn glowed a light green as she lifted a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, pouring a generous amount into each. She returned the stopper to the bottle and turned back to me.

“A lotta things went wrong after ya left, Marshall. A lotta things changed for th’ town and th’ mayor.” One of the glasses floated over to me and I sat down to take it in my hoof. As I looked up to thank her, I finally noticed what was different about the deputy... she wasn’t a deputy. At least not according to her new gold badge. She was the sheriff. Noticing my look, she glanced down to her armored chest and smiled sadly. She lifted a hoof up to lightly touch the shining star gently.

“Not how Ah wanted ta get th’ job,” she said sadly before letting out a sigh and taking a drink from her glass. “Th’ ambush th’ bandits set up was near perfect, from what Griff told us. Had th’ farmhouse all set up waitin’ for Sheriff Sweetshot and anypony she brought with ’er. Copper said it looked right peaceful enough when they first arrived, but that th’ family wasn’t anywhere outside. They trotted on up ta th’ front of th’ house ta see if anypony was home when th’ first shots took out three of th’ others. Copper and th’ Sheriff dove for cover behind a wagon and started returnin’ fire.” Lucy turned and walked slowly across the office to one of the windows behind the desk. “One of th deputies, Lulubell, was just wounded and th’ Sheriff tried ta get ta her...”

I closed my eyes and lowered my head. The only sound was the tick-tock of a clock somewhere in the building and the distant rumble of thunder as the storm continued to build up in the mountains. The wasteland had claimed yet another good pony, it seemed. While I had not known the Sheriff well, she had seemed a nice enough mare and seemed to have the respect of her fellow townsfolk.

“By th’ time Griff and th’ others arrived, it was just Copper and two others alive and about ta be overrun. Th’ griffons tore inta th’ bandits, killin’ most of’em in th’ fight, takin’ a couple prisoners. I wish they’d just killed th’ lot of ’em,” she added with a grunt and stomp of a forehoof.

“As do I,” a male voice said from my right. Turning, I spotted the mayor stepping from the side room and shutting the door behind him. I was rather surprised to see the kindly old stallion. Given what had happened in the past twenty four hours or so, I’d have expected him to be home grieving. Anypony else would be... but then, he did have a lot more responsibilities than any other pony. I could relate to that. He remained on his own hooves, somehow pushing himself onward for those looking to him in these troubling times for leadership. As he stepped to what I assumed was his desk, I looked at how much he’d changed. Given the circumstances, I could understand why.

He was still dressed as he had been when we’d first left the town the morning before. While his clothing could not have been called spotless, they had at least been clean and well cared for. Now, the patchwork jacket he wore was covered in dirt, sweat, and dark red stains near the sleeves and chest: dried blood. His stovepipe hat was still perched atop his head, but its look was dirty and appeared to have been sat on or stepped on. The stallion’s mane and coat stood out in places, and he had dark circles under his normally bright eyes. Gone was the warm smile I’d seen in the bank, replaced with a worn, tired look. A look I knew all too well.

“Mayor, I’m sorry about your wife...” I began, before he held up a hoof to stop me. He turned to look at me and simply nodded his head.

“I know you mean well, Marshall, but... I’ve heard that enough over the past several hours and it does nothing for the pain.” He reached up and removed his battered hat, tossing it atop his desk as he sat down behind it with a tired sigh. “I did not call you here because of what happened to my wife... I suppose it really hasn’t hit me just yet.” He shook his head and a glowing glass full of whiskey floated before him. “Thank you.” He took the glass and nearly emptied it in one gulp. After a few moments of silent, the mayor pressed on, “I need your help, Marshall, with fixing a mistake my fellow townsfolk have made. One that my wife would not want us to repeat.”

“I’ll do what I can, Mayor,” I said simply, not sure what it was they expected me to do for them, beyond what I already had.

“While we are not members of the Confederacy, we do try and follow their laws as best we can. One of those laws is that everyone is to be given a fair trial by their peers.” At this, Lucy snorted softly, earning a glance from the mayor. However, he went on. “Unlike most towns and settlements in the wasteland, we actually have a judge. A friend of mine from back west. We both traveled here from San Ponsisco a couple years back. He became the Justice of the Peace and I took up teaching. As might be expected, the members of the Blackhoof gang were found guilty of every charge that has been placed on them and their sentence will be carried out tomorrow morning.” My ears perked to the word ‘sentence’.

“What's that?” I asked, but I had a feeling I already know what they’d decided to do with the surviving members of the gang.

“They’ll be hanged,” the mayor said simply. “Either that or firing squad, but at the time we were unsure if you’d managed to return with our stolen supplies. Those bullets would be better served defending the town.”

Well, I can’t argue with that judgement. The Blackhoofs had done about as much harm to the town and outlying settlements as a band of raiders, perhaps more so. At least with raiders you could see clearly they were evil bastards... that reminded me.

“They had help getting into town. Somepony inside opened the gate for them.” Both the mayor and Lucy nodded, before the mare spoke up.

“We know, we caught her tryin’ ta break the members of th’ gang outta the jail. It was one of th’ Drunken Mare girls; she had a thing for one of th’ survivin’ gang. Enough so ta kill two ponies she’d known all her life and betray th’ town she was born in.” Lucy shook her head and sat down beside the desk. “Ah grew up with ’er...”

“She was charged with much the same thing as the Blackhoofs and will be joining them tomorrow. And therein is the problem.”

“When it came ta th’ prisoners we had in th’ jail, th’ ones from th’ attack ya helped us with, it was a might harder for ponies ta make up their mind. Some wanted th’ lot of ’em hung, others wanted ’em shot, a couple wanted ’em forgiven since word got out about what ya found out from th’ one named Runner.”

“The number of ponies wanting them to stay with us here are small, perhaps only a dozen. It would never be a real option,” the mayor broke in with a sigh and shake of his head. “If we let them stay in town, their lives would be miserable. If we kick them out of town... well, the wasteland is a harsh place and it may be more merciful to simply kill them.” He leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hoof over his face tiredly. They had few options it seemed. Kill them or toss them out of town and let the wasteland kill them. Then it struck me what the mayor needed from me. I had another option to give them.

“You want me to take them with me to San Ponsisco?” I asked, figuring out what they wanted me for. ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ Griff had said. You couldn’t get fifty or more ponies more out of sight than across a mountain range in a distant city. There was no question we had enough room on the train... if Doc Brown had managed to fix the engine, at any rate. But this had been their home, and I said as much to the pair. The mayor sighed and nodded his head, but it was Lucy who spoke.

“It is at that, and as long as Ah’m sheriff they’ll be welcome in town. But Ah can’t watch ’em twenty four hours a day, and Ah can’t rightly lock a pony up cause they say things or refuse to sell ta other ponies... and th’ simple fact is that Ah’m not so sure after tomorrow if any of th’ settlers ya saved will want ta stay here.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. That knot in my stomach grew tentacles and started squeezing my lungs.

“While most of th’ stallions we captured were guilty of thievery, assault, and th’ like. While thievery is punishable by death, th’ mayor managed ta convince th’ townsfolk that if our roles had been reversed, they’d have done th’ same thin’.” Desperate ponies are capable of just about anything. “Two though... are directly responsible for the deaths of one of my deputies and a store owner, and that’s murder.”

I wanted to stand up and tell them that no, they had been tricked. They had thought the townsfolk had turned on them and left them to die. That it had been the Blackhoofs’ fault, who filled the settlers’ heads with lies after pretending to be raiders... but I did not. For one simple reason: they were right. Being a security pony back in Stable 45, I knew the law. Or at least, the law that Equestria had obeyed over a hundred and fifty years ago. Most crimes were punishable by jail time, community service, or rehabilitation. Murder, however... there was little else that ponies had found so distasteful, ironically even as they killed zebras.

Despite it all, despite everything that had been done to them, the settlers had still knowingly attacked Tombstone, carrying guns which they fired on unarmed ponies and deputies. It would be naive of anypony to say they expected nopony to be hurt from such actions, especially when tempers had been flamed and judgement clouded. In fact a good many had been injured, and two had been murdered in cold blood by a mare they likely had trusted. More had died as a direct result of the supplies they had helped steal.

My shoulders slumped in defeat as I realized I could not come up with any good reason why those they’d found guilty of murder should be pardoned. That they had families would not matter to the victims’ children or wives. Despite the fact it had all been a group of ponies manipulating them, they had still knowingly killed somepony else. The two watched me silently as I thought all this over, seeing my reaction. Lucy turned away to look out into the street as the mayor meet my stare.

“They’ll be hung tomorrow, along with everypony else that was found guilty,” the mayor spoke up again. The sad look in his eyes was for not only himself, but also for the ponies on which he was about to inflict the same heartache that he’d just suffered. “After we kill two of their husbands, I doubt they’ll want much else to do with us. And I don’t blame them...”

The conversation drifted to the mares and foals I’d just brought in, about allowing the families of the condemned stallions a chance to see them before tomorrow morning. I must admit, I really didn’t pay much attention to a lot of it. I only nodded or shook my head when a question was asked of me. Who would be the best pony to speak to about finding out the names of the families? How would we approach the subject of them leaving Tombstone with my friends and I? Luckily, Lucy volunteered to go speak with the mares at the clinic. She felt it was her responsibility to look them in the eyes and tell them what was going on. I was at least aware enough to know that despite the loss of Sweetshot, the town would not be without a fine sheriff. However, I did not envy her job.

Once Lucy had left, the mayor then began outlining what would need to be done to see to the settlers’ safety if they decided to leave Tombstone with me. I knew that word would sooner or later reach San Ponsisco and the Confederacy about what had happened. He worried that the persecution that had surrounded them here would follow them to their new home. To that end, he said he’d write a letter out to an old acquaintance of his who held a position of power in the city. He would explain what had happened and ask him to try and ensure the settlers were given a fresh start. For some, it might seem he was going well out of his way for these ponies, those who had harmed his town and his family, and I duly asked him why he’d do this. After all, I’d been told so many times that ponies did not go out of their way to help strangers or even their neighbors.

“My wife was never the type of pony to hold a grudge against anypony. Nor would she want so many lives to suffer for the mistakes of a hoof full, or the lies of others. She would have forgiven them and attempted to help them get back on their own hooves so they could look after their families,” he said softly, a pencil held in between his teeth as he wrote out some letter for me to give to his friend in San Ponsisco. “She told me once that she’d always wanted to be a sheriff when she was just a filly, so she could protect the ponies around her.” He stopped writing and sat the pencil down. “Said it just didn’t seem right to not help others. Some townsfolk called her naive, foolish for believing that. Most, however, respected her... myself included.” He smiled sadly. “It’s one of the reasons I was so taken with her when I first arrived in Tombstone.”

“I won’t let her death be the reason the town holds mothers and fathers accountable for simply attempting to look after their children.” He picked the pencil back up in his teeth, ears flicked back against his skull and a determined look filling his eyes as he stared down at the letter. “I won’t let them.” He focused on his work after that, ignoring everything and everypony else in the building; even his assistant, the stallion I’d met in the lobby, who’d slipped into the office to see if the mayor required anything before he left for the evening.

It wasn’t just a single letter he was writing, but several. Only one of which would I be taking with me when we left Tombstone. The others were meant for the town’s elected council of four ponies. From what little I could piece together from Clip, it was a system similar to that we had in place back home in Stable 45. Gearbox and the others would have their say on what the ponies under them needed, and my sister would insure it was in the best interest of the Stable and for all the ponies living inside it. The town’s council seemed to work the same way. They would meet and talk about issues the stores or individual ponies were having and how to deal with it. New laws would be passed, or old ones repealed. It was the mayor's job (and that of the Overmare) to insure these changes were corrected and carried out.

As Clip left the office, I took the opportunity to follow him, leaving the mayor to his work and silent grief. Stepping out of town hall, I looked up into the overcast sky and the flicker of lightning off in the distance. I could smell rain on the air. The breeze picked up, blowing dust between my hooves. Lowering my eyes back to the street, I sighed and shook my head, mulling over what I’d just learned and trying to figure out some way around it. I kept coming back to the same question though, one I found myself asking several times.

Would Ebony have done anything different? For that matter, would I?

As I thought it over, I wandered the streets of Tombstone for lack of anything else to do. There was no question the Blackhoofs were guilty as hell. I’d seen them in Oddwick heard what Buford had planned for the settlers, saw what he’d done to make them distrust the ponies of Tombstone. They’d killed a good pony, Sheriff Sweetshot. Celestia and Luna above know how many more innocent ponies they’d killed to set up their little scheme. The wasteland would be a better place without them in it. But did the settlers really deserve the same thing? Not all of them, no, but the ones that had killed...

I glanced up to see the Drunken Mare just down the street. Merry music and laughter drifted out from the open doors as a group of ponies went into the building. My friends would likely be waiting for me inside; probably celebrating our return to town, the recovery of the stolen goods, and our victory over the local gang. They’d be in high spirits, no doubt, and I’d have to bring them crashing back down to the harsh realities of the wasteland. To the realities of ponies about to be killed. With a sigh, I began trotting towards the saloon and to a conversation that I was not looking forward to having.

As I climbed the few wooden steps off the dust covered street and onto the porch, I heard several familiar voices mixed with a number of others inside. I stopped beside the door and, for the moment, just looked inside the very busy saloon. I suppose my friends weren’t the only ones ready to celebrate our victory. A good deal of local townsfolk filled the seats of the main room, laughing, gambling, and generally attempting to forget the past two days’ events.

It didn’t take me long to spot my friends, as most of them stood out from the crowd. Stonehoof was seated at a table near the center of the room, just under a chandelier of dim lights, and playing cards with four local ponies. Judging by the sizeable pile of caps on his end of the table, he was winning. His saddlebags sat upon the floor beside his seat, the stock of his rifle sitting atop them. Sitting on the table was a number of empty and half-empty bottles of Wild Pegasus and pre-war beer. The game had attracted quite a few ponies to simply stand nearby and watch, a few placing bets on the next hand, and it seemed my friend was the favored to win. He wasn’t alone, however. Wild was with him, doing what Wild does best: attempting to annoy him.

There were no free chairs at the table, but that hadn’t stopped Wildfire. The mare had a habit of getting her way. It seemed she fully intended to sit as close to her stallion as she could. She was sitting close alright. Her upper half atop Stone’s back and neck while her lower other half sat perched atop the back of his chair. Her chin rested comfortably atop his head, watching the game below her with excited blue eyes while her forelegs wrapped lightly around his neck. Resting atop her wild red mane was a familiar-looking, worn and beat up cowpony hat, which she wore tilted back. She wasn’t wearing her battle saddle or her black armor, nor was Stone wearing his armor. The two looked so different without the bulky plates.

My attention was pulled from the pair towards a table near the bar, where I found another of my recent friends sitting, surrounded by a number of pretty mares. Balefire laughed once again as a young mare seated beside him nuzzled his neck and cheek. The buck had his forelegs wrapped about her neck and the neck of a purple earth pony mare seated on his other side. A number of empty glasses and plates littered the table before them. As I watched, I noticed a couple of the mares seated with the green unicorn looked a bit distant, their thoughts perhaps on one of their own about to be sent to the gallows tomorrow. Still, they lavished Balefire with attention as he paid for another round of drinks for the ladies. Where he’d gotten enough caps for that I wasn’t sure, nor was I going to question it. Let him have his fun and take the barmaids’ minds off what lay ahead.

I watched as one of the mares slipped from the table to fill the order, and followed her towards the bar where a familiar, large brown shape sat. Spirit Walker had finally taken a break from caring for the wounded, it seemed, and was sitting at the bar with Doctor Mitchell. Most likely they were speaking about treatments and the like. The normally serene buffalo’s face was smiling at whatever the old pegasus stallion had to say and began to answer him. However, that was not the only surprise at the bar. Sitting beside her was Kanzi.

I’d not seen the zebra mare since we’d arrived in Tombstone, largely in part to the suggestion that the townsfolk would look unkindly on wartime Equestria’s former foe. It did appear most of the townsfolk were giving her a wide berth, but she seemed used to it. She’d said as much when we’d arrived. Old grudges never truly die, it seems. She at least appeared fully healed; there were no scars or wounds covering her striped form. At least, none physically. The emotional scars would likely take far longer than a couple days to mend, if they ever would. I could only imagine what she’d been through in Kanter City. At the moment, however, she was speaking with Ol’ Hank, the saloon owner, and offering the stallion a slight smile at whatever he was saying.

The only one of my friends I didn’t see and wouldn’t expect to was Carrion. The ghoul had spent so much time alone in the sewers of Kanter City, he likely wasn’t used to large crowds. His pony skills left something to be desired from my first meeting with him, but he’d eased up since we’d left that hellish place. Another reason I didn’t see him could be the same as why I hadn’t seen Kanzi so much. It likely irked the former Equestrian Army Officer, being lumped into the same group as zebras.

The sound of cheering caused my ears to twitch and swivel back towards Stone and Wild’s table. My eyes followed them and I saw that my large earth pony friend had once more managed to win the pot and was scooping the caps up from the center of the table into his pile. He wore a large smile as he sat back in his chair and reached for the deck of cards sitting where the caps had once sat. Atop his head, wearing her usual mischievous grin, Wild turned and nuzzled the stallion’s ear with her nose. The action caused a couple of cards to go flying from his hooves as he lost his concentration. The table broke into laughter as my friend’s face turned red. I smiled a bit at the happy mood in the room.

I stepped back from the door as a pony trotted out, nodding to me as he passed. It seemed none of my friends had seen me yet, and I meant to keep it that way. At least for a bit longer. Let them have their fun for a little while more. The wasteland could wait to crush their happiness for a couple more hours, at least.

Stepping off the sidewalk, I glanced about the dark and largely deserted streets. Most ponies seemed to either be at home with friends and family or at one of the saloons. I saw only a small number of townsfolk walking down the sidewalks, and most of them appeared to be either guards or deputies. It would seem they’d increased either their numbers or presence since the attack. Laughter from the Drunken Mare caught my attention and I glanced back at the dim, warm glow of the doorway.

Before I could change my mind, I turned away and began trotting down the street. I had no real destination in mind. The few ponies I passed would nod their head in greeting, a few thanking me for saving their family and town. Most simply left me alone, perhaps seeing the troubled look on my face. After another hour, I found myself more or less wandering the town aimlessly. I was passing the time either looking at the quiet stores all closed for the evening or thinking more about what tomorrow would bring. The streets became more and more deserted as I walked, not really paying much attention to where I was going. Before I knew it, I ended up stopping before the train station.

I stood there for a moment, looking up at one of the taller buildings in town. Though made of wood and brick, it was in fair shape for the wasteland. My hooves and wandering mind had actually done me a favor for once, bringing me where I needed to be. After all, if the mayor was right and the settlers did decide to leave Tombstone for good, we’d need a working train to take us across the mountains. The wagons we’d arrived in from Oddwick were on their last legs. While they could be repaired, it’d take us weeks to cross the high passes, likely under fire from raiders or attacked by any number of mutant animals.

Glancing up to the sky and a flash of lightning, I saw smoke rising up from just behind the train station. My ears perked up as I also began to hear the sound of metal striking metal, as well as machinery running, namely an engine. Having spent several days aboard the train we’d taken from the raiders, I’d gotten used to the sounds it made. I worked my way up the stairs at the front of the station and trotted around it to the loading platform just behind the building. As I turned the corner, I spotted a line of cars resting upon the tracks. They ran the length of the platform and back towards the eastward facing gate, the way we’d come into Tombstone. There, sitting at the end, was the caboose, residing where the engine had set the other night. Well, at least he got it facing in the right direction it seemed. The cars themselves looked in slightly better shape, with a number of crude raider modifications removed. Mostly in the form of chains, spikes, and the odd body part from some long dead animal or pony... to be honest, it was rather hard to tell what some of them had been. Once more, the sound of metal striking metal caught my ear and I turned towards the source.

The engine was indeed facing the correct way now. Steam was lazily rising up from its sides, fading into the air just above the station’s roof. The source of the smoke I’d seen was coming from the stack (which had also been de-raiderized) and was lessening as whatever fuel was in the boiler burned away. Around the platform sat several oil lanterns, glowing brightly in the dim lighting of the station’s loading platform. A number of the bulbs had blown out some time ago and were never replaced. Between these lanterns moved two ponies, one of which I’d met earlier.

Doctor Brown stepped down from the engine and onto the platform, his horn glowing a dim silver as a number of tools floated beside him. The cracked goggles he’d been wearing when I’d met him had either been repaired or replaced, and now sat atop his head. They somehow held his wildly frazzled white mane down. Across his back, he wore a pair of saddlebags that had been modified to hold a number of tools along the outside and within easy reach of hoof, mouth, or magic. As he turned to examine something on the side of the train, I caught sight of his cutie mark. It appeared to be a cuckoo clock of some sort, though the numbers on the clock's face were backwards.

The other pony followed closely behind the Doctor. Or rather hovered just behind him, lazily flapping his feathered wings to stay aloft. This must have been the Doctor’s assistant. He’d mentioned him when we’d first met; Marty, I think was his name. He was a blue pegasus stallion, looking about as young as Balefire, if not a bit younger. He was wearing a red jacket of some sort over his upper half, though it’d clearly seen better days, with a number of rips and tears on the side. Like the Doctor, he was wearing a pair of saddlebags. However, they lacked the unicorn’s tool belt along their side. He was also armed, wearing a leg holster much like mine with a revolver tucked inside. His cutie mark was of a flaming wing, like the Doctor’s. I found it somewhat odd.

Neither had seen me yet. The Doctor was focused on working on something and his friend had his back turned to me. I made my way along the platform to where they stood. The sound of my metal shod hooves upon the wooden loading platform alerted Marty that somepony was behind them and he turned to see who it was. He looked me over closely with a raised eyebrow before landing beside the older pony, nudging him in the flank with a hoof.

“Hey, Doc... we got company.”

At his young assistant’s words, Doctor Brown pulled his head back from the engine and turned to look my way. I nearly stumbled at the stallion’s head gear. A pair of magnifying glasses were perched upon his nose, making his already large eyes that much larger. He blinked a couple of times before reaching a hoof up and pushing the glasses up away from his eyes. Without me being blown up several times my normal size, he saw just who was trotting up towards them. He smiled warmly and lowered his floating tools down to his saddlebags, each slipping into their own respective home. With this finished, the unicorn turned fully towards me.

“I see you’ve finally returned from your little adventure! Not a moment too soon; we were just putting the finishing touches on the engine.” He lightly patted a hoof against the black metal side of the train, causing a slight ringing sound to echo out across the platform. “As I expected, it just required some basic maintenance and a few replacement parts, most of which we found quite easily.” At that, the pegasus rolled his eyes and tucked a few tools away that lay scattered across the platform around the wheels of the train.

“Yeah, easily found if you don’t mind flying around that train wreck up north, he means,” the pegasus added with a shake of his head, but a smile on his face. “I’m Marty by the way, Doc’s assistant and friend.” He offered me a hoof shake which I took and returned the smile.

“Nice to meet you, Marty. My name’s Shadow.”

“Shadow?” he blinked a few times before looking a bit surprised. “I thought you’d be taller, really...” he said quietly, but still loud enough for me to hear. Doctor Brown poked the pegasus in the side, making him flinch. “I mean, I’ve heard a couple ponies around town talking about some new Marshall going around freeing slaves and such.” He forced a chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck with a hoof, before he hurriedly changed the subject. “So, what brings you out to the station so late at night, Marshall? I’d figured you’d be getting a bit of rest after fighting off the Blackhoofs.”

They’d already heard about that? Hmm... small town, it seems...

“Yes, well some things came up, and I wanted to make sure everything here was good for tomorrow,” I answered, looking back over the row of empty train cars. It appeared they’d done far more than simply patch up the worn engine, but had also removed a fair amount of raider decorations from the cars. Even removing the skeleton from atop the smokestack.

“Oh? Leaving so soon?” the pegasus asked as he looked from the train cars to me, a brow arched. “It’s a long trip to San Ponsisco from here.”

“Well, after tomorrow, I have a feeling the number of ponies joining me on this trip will be increasing,” I said, running a hoof across the now smooth side of the steel engine. I could see where the spike had been removed from the side and the hint of rust around the patched hole.

“Ah yes, tomorrow morning...” The Doctor shook his frazzled white mane and looked over the black surface of the engine. “I have never agreed with capital punishment. And in a place like this it seems doubly wrong.”

“Nothing about this place seems right, Doc. You said it yourself, everything about this is all wrong. But you can’t really blame them, Doc, they’re simply doing the best they can,” Marty responded, looking back into town. “I’m not saying what they’re doing is right, but they really don’t have any other choice. It’s not like there’s a prison they can ship them off to anymore.”

“In the end, it all comes down to the simple fact that somewhere in the past something went wrong. If things had taken a different path, the right path, such a thing as hanging a pony for stealing somepony else’s food would never have to happen.”

“You mean with the bombs?” I asked.

“Not just the bombs, but the entire war... a war that never should have happened in the first place,” he said as he floated a wrench from his saddlebags. He began tightening a loose bolt upon the side of the engine door. There wasn’t a pony alive, or dead for that matter, that wouldn’t agree with what he said. But the way he said it... it was different than how I’d heard it before. He sounded so sure, as if he knew something the rest of us didn’t.

“No argument there, Doc... this entire world is just wrong. I’ll be glad to get home,” Marty said, looking up into the grey overcast sky as if looking for something. With a sigh, he looked back to the ground and scanned the platform for any missing tools, while leaving me to stare at the train and to my own thoughts.

I couldn’t argue with them on what they’d said, everything about the world was wrong. Ever since we’d first set hoof out on the surface it had been wrong. We were supposed to be rebuilding, healing, fixing the mistakes of the past. It’s what the Stables were built for. Instead of repairing the cities, though, we were fighting over the scraps left inside them... instead of healing the land and nature, we were fighting against the mutant beasts that roamed the wasteland. Killing one another over bits of canned food.

How had we fallen so far?

Marty cleared his throat and I blinked, looking away from the train over to the other two stallions standing nearby.

“I wouldn’t worry, Marshall. She’ll get you where you're going with little to no problem; likely further, if you decide to. Doc does good work, once he’s figured out all the kinks and so long as he isn’t working with any megaspells.” The pegasus smirked and the old unicorn snorted. “I’d suggest letting somepony overhaul the steam pipes and boiler at some point though. The patches we placed will hold for a good long while, but when dealing with something that can explode, it’s best to be safer than sorry.”

“I’ll remember that, but my journey ends once we reach San Ponsisco,” I said. Marty must have thought I’d been worried about the work they’d done to the engine, but my mind had been else where. However, at my words, the stallions shared a look, but then simply nodded their heads after a moment of silence. Were they expecting me to go somewhere else after reaching the city? Where else was there to go? Crossroads? It was nice, but a little too close to Kanter City and the raiders that had already taken so much from me.

No. Once I reached the city and found Sugar Pie, I’d be hanging my hat and shotgun up for good. I was all my niece had now; the wasteland was on its own. As the silence once more dragged on between us, Marty rustled his wings and looked between us before speaking.

“Well, since we’re finished here, I’m going to head back to the workshop and get our gear stored, Doc.” He nodded his head towards me and smiled. “It was nice to meet you, Marshall.” Spreading his wings, the pegasus took to the sky and looped over the top of the train and off towards the work sheds.

“Hmm, Marty’s right, actually. About the ponies living here in Tombstone, I mean. They are doing the best they can given the situation they’ve found themselves in. Still, I do not expect this news will go over well with your friends or the settlers you saved,” the doctor finally said after another moment of silence passed between us. His horn glowed once more as he picked up the wrench he’d been tightening the door with. “I take it that’s why you haven’t joined your friends yet?”

“Something like that...” I answered, looking away from the brown unicorn.

“Hmm... well, let me give you some advice, my boy. You're doing yourself more harm than good by delaying the news.” The light from his horn faded again as he lowered the wrench back into its home on his saddlebag. “Such a thing can injure a pony as surely as a bullet to the leg or by claw of a radscorpion. Trust me, I know a thing or two about being unable to tell a pony news of what's to come.” With that rather odd comment, the odd stallion trotted off towards the front of the train and to the tracks below, while leaving me alone on the platform.

He was right, of course. There was no point in putting this off any longer. They had to know and it would be better coming from me than some random drunk townspony.

Turning away from the train, I trotted back the way I’d came, heading towards the Drunken Mare.

A worn group of townsfolk stood beside my friends and I in Tombstone’s town square the next morning. Thunder was rumbling occasionally overhead as the storm that had threatened to break all last evening brewed within the thick overcast sky. The mixed emotions of the crowd were plain for anypony to see. Some shifted uneasily, others wept, and a few seemed pleased with the events about to take place. I was none of those, and all of them. My feelings for what was going to happen were a jumble.

Across the street from where we stood, the front door to the Sheriff’s Office opened. It drew everyone’s attention to the dark interior and the line of ponies beginning to make their way from inside. A tired looking deputy was in the lead as they stepped off the wooden sidewalk and into the still dust-covered street. A pump action shotgun swung over his neck and within easy reach should he need to enforce the judgement of the court. Behind him came a line of ten stallions, heads down and tails dragging behind them. The ponies’ hooves were shackled to one another, a thick metal chain connecting them to the pony in front and behind. Due to the heavy metal chains, they were forced to shuffle along the street. They slowly moved past the gathered crowd as another peal of thunder rolled overhead and a few drops of rain began to fall upon the crowd’s heads. Beside them walked the remaining deputies of Tombstone, weapons drawn and eyes watchful.

Their journey soon ended as the ten condemned ponies climbed the rough wooden steps of the platform that had been hurriedly built only the day before. It would be removed once its grim task had been completed. Standing atop the platform, and waiting on them to step into place, were the leaders of the town. The mayor stood near the front, his face a mixture of sadness and weariness. Beside him stood Doctor Mitchell, who seemed more angry, judging by his turned back ears and ruffled wings. Very Rich stood off to himself, seeming more bored than anything else. I doubted he was even really paying much attention. There were another three ponies with them. None I knew, nor did I have any desire too. Finally, standing near the mayor with her head lowered, was the town's new Sheriff, Lucy.

The line of ponies passed them slowly as the deputies guided each to a spot along the platform. They stood atop trap doors that would drop out from under them once a lever had been pulled. Each turned to face the onlooking crowd. Their faces were framed by ten nooses gently swaying in the warm, rain-scented breeze, rustling their manes. I knew most of them, or had at least seen them before. Six of them were members of the Blackhoof gang, wanted for a mix of crimes from robbery to murder. The remaining four were their unwilling accomplices in many of those crimes.

Once each stallion had been placed upon a trap door, a unicorn deputy slowly walked along the line. Her horn glowed as she began to fix the nooses over the heads of the condemned. Before tightening the noose, she offered each a cigarette or blindfold. Most ignored the offer, the members of the Blackhoofs merely spit at her face. After the second attempt, she did not offer to any of the others. Beside me in the crowd, a pony snorted, saying it was a waste to give them a cigarette. They’d burn soon enough. A few agreed, a few did not. Overhead, thunder rumbled.

With the task finished, the unicorn trotted back to the end of the row of prisoners. She stopped beside a wooden lever near the steps and stood waiting. No pony spoke, no pony moved as we all waited for the end to come. My eyes went from the row of stallions to the mayor... he could stop this from happening, but I knew he wouldn’t. I knew he couldn’t and I damned both him and myself for knowing this was the right thing to do.

Locking eyes with the unicorn deputy, he nodded his head. As the mare’s horn began to glow, I turned my own eyes away from them to the last pony in the line. I locked eyes with a pair of sad, resigned blue eyes as Runner looked back to me.

With a loud click, the lever was pulled. Runner, along with nine other ponies, dropped from sight. Their hooves jerked to a sudden halt, swinging slowly in the humid morning breeze...

Smoke and steam rose from the engine as it prepared to leave, taking us away from Tombstone and back out into the wasteland. All along the loading platform, ponies climbed aboard the train cars. Some looked back, others refused to do so. The mayor had been right. The settlers had decided to leave the town behind and make the trip to San Ponsisco. A chance for a new life, away from those that had killed two of their own.

Thunder rumbled deeply overhead as the final mare stepped aboard the train, carrying her foal upon her back and a dirty suitcase in her mouth. Her ears were folded back and her tail drooped as she climbed the steel steps up into the car. Behind me the whistle blew, signalling our departure from the station. My ears perked as I heard the hiss of steam and the grind of metal as the wheels slowly began to turn. The length of passenger cars lurched lazily forward as the engine began pulling them from the station.

Turning away from the empty station, I set hoof aboard the nearest car and watched as we approached the western gate which had already been opened for us. Atop the wall, I saw Sheriff Lucy and the mayor watching as we slowly slipped below them and emerged out into the wasteland. Looking back, I saw they’d turned to wave farewell. I sighed and nodded my head once to the pair before turning my eyes on the distant mountains and the black clouds looming above them.

The wasteland rolled steadily past the window of the train car, a sea of browns, greys, and blacks as far as the eye could see. Every so often the dull scenery would be illuminated by a flash of lightning that would fade quickly, leaving the world to be swallowed by darkness once more. There was little to see outside the cracked piece of glass: scrub brush, rocks, and the odd ruined home or wagon. My thoughts, as they often did, drifted to my sister. I shut my eyes for a moment, thinking about the missing part of myself, back in Kanter City.

With a snort, I opened my eyes and shook my head. My eyes wandered to the landscape drifting past to get my mind off what had happened. Something large looming ahead caught my eyes. A ponymade shape appeared from out of the gloom. As it drew closer, I saw it was a billboard like those I’d seen traveling from Crossroads to Steeldome. It had been placed facing south, for ponies traveling a highway that crossed the tracks. Drawing closer, I saw it had once been a sign welcoming travelers to Equestria. A smiling, pretty white unicorn mare waving a hoof in front of rolling green hills and blue skies.

At least, that is what it had looked like over a hundred and fifty years ago. Now it looked completely different. Time had faded the colors to a shadow of their former glory and in places it was peeling away entirely. Like everything else in the wasteland, raiders had left their mark upon the board. Crudely written words were smeared in whatever they had at hoof covered much of the sign. Where once the sign had said, ‘Welcome to Equestria! Land of Harmony and Friendship,’ it now simply said, ‘Welcome to Equestria! Land of DEATH and MURDER.’ As if to prove the point, I noticed several rotting bodies swing from the billboard by their forehooves and looked away.

This was the world I lived in now.

Looking away from the wasteland, I scanned the downcast faces of the ponies I shared the passenger car with. Nopony had said a word since we’d left Tombstone. Not even the foals had spoken. What could anypony really say? Only two of them had lost loved ones to the hangpony’s noose. However, a number of their stallions had died in the attack. The mood inside the train was as dark and gloomy as the wasteland we traveled through. I sighed softly.

Was this all anypony had to look forward to on the surface? Pain and loss?

Standing up from my seat, I made my way through the narrow alleyway between seats. I looked at the faces of the ponies I passed before looking back to the path ahead. My heart ached for these ponies and what they’d been through. My heart ached for my sister and what my niece was about to go through.

Reaching the door, I yanked it open and hurriedly stepped outside in the space between cars. The warm breeze blew overhead and ruffed my mane and tail as I moved closer to the steps.

Was this really all Sugar Pie had to look forward to in the world? Pain, loss, struggling to survive, and the constant threat of death all around you? Could nopony do anything to make the world a better place? Was anypony even trying?

My eyes shifted westward, towards San Ponsisco and what Three Horns had said was the best hope for the wasteland: the Confederate Stables of Equestria.

“If so... where were they when places like Crossroads and Tombstone needed help?” No one was there to answer my question. Not even the voices in my head seemed inclined to answer me. I looked skyward, perhaps expecting the goddesses to answer me. But as before, they were silent.

With Tombstone behind us, and San Ponsisco ahead, we settled in for the long, cold, and dangerous ride ahead. Our route was taking us through the Saddlera Mountains, one of the highest mountain ranges in Equestria. One that nopony had traveled across in the past several months. Anything could have happened in that time, from rock slides and avalanches to raiders blowing the tracks. Of course, those things could all happen while we traveled the winding course through the cold stone cliffs and rises. However, we only had enough supplies to last everypony for a little over four days. It would take us two... if the route was clear.

The dangers we faced became evident to everypony aboard as we passed through a narrow ravine and came across the wreckage of another train. The engine pointed eastward. How long it had been laying there half buried in the snow was anypony’s guess. Perhaps for as long as Equestria had been ruined. As we passed, we all looked over the twisted remains of metal and wood. Somepony long ago had taken and piled the skulls of the passengers atop one of the cars. The blank hollow eyes watched us as we passed.

Stubbornly, our train continued to climb the tracks. Steel wheels fought for traction at times over iced rails, smoke billowing from the stack as it struggled to haul itself and the eighty plus ponies we had aboard. There was a lot at stake, and nothing anypony aboard could do but will the old steel and iron machine onward.

Ancient wooden bridges groaned as we crossed them. Snow fell from the straining support beams as our passage shook the old structure. More than once, we heard the crack of beams as something gave out below us. However, we had little choice but to press on.

We did not stop. We slept, ate, and lived aboard the train. To relieve ourselves, we simply stepped outside the cars and did our best to insure it landed on the tracks rather than the train. To stop here would likely mean death. More than once somepony had spotted yellow eyes watching us from the dead, snow-covered forests and cliffs. Several times we’d seen pony skulls driven into spikes. No, we couldn’t stop.

By the morning of the third day, it was looking as if we weren’t going to make it out of the pass before our supplies ran out. However, just as it seemed we would be forced to ration what we had left, we began to at last descend. Looking out from the windows, we saw the distant rolling plains that lay beyond the mountains.

In another two days we would arrive at San Ponsisco... and my adventure would finally be over.

We were now a little over an hour from reaching San Ponsisco, at least according to Balefire. For the past several hours after leaving the mountain pass behind, we had been riding through an endless expanse of flat, featureless plains. At one time it had all been grasslands around the city. Now it was little more than a rock infested brown wasteland of mud and centuries old ash.

Little had happened within that time. Most ponies had spent the trip quietly, speaking only when spoken to, when they had a question, or to voice a concern. After everything that had happened to them over the past few weeks and months, none of the ponies aboard had any energy or desire to do much more than just savor the peace. However, there was one question most asked: just what the capital of the only stable government within Equestria would be like. So many of them had heard stories of San Ponsisco, but had never seen it. The Confederate Stables of Equestria was little more than a myth to some.

I took the time given to me to think on those still with me and what the future might be for some of them.

Those joining us from Tombstone still grieved for their lost loves ones and their home. Most kept to themselves. Of them, Willow was the only one among them I knew in any way, but the mare was mostly avoiding me. Surprising, since it was a rather difficult task to avoid somepony aboard a cramped train with only so much room to move. However, I did my part in avoiding her and her filly, except to insure they were doing alright. She blamed me for the death of her husband. I couldn’t blame her nor was I going to seek her forgiveness. It had been out of my hooves, but if it helped her to blame somepony... well, once we reached the city, she’d likely never have to see me again.

Not surprisingly, Stonehoof had declined staying behind in Tombstone, saying he’d promised to see me safely back with my family and that’s just what he was going to do. The stallion hadn’t really been too keen on staying in the town after the hanging. Despite the fact that it had been necessary, he still hadn’t liked it. Neither had I. I was once more thankful he’d not left my side just yet, and so was Wild. Without my fellow earth pony’s steadfast loyalty and words of wisdom, I doubt I would have made it much further than Crossroads without being killed. Once I was settled, he would be returning to his home to help take care of his nephew and sister-in-law.

Wildfire had nowhere really to go. Her former government had disowned her and even attempted to have her killed, a fact that most who just met the pegasus would find hard to believe. The former Enclave commander turned mercenary followed me for several reasons. One, she was bored of living the life of a Dashite in the wasteland and was out for one last adventure. Two, she had told me more than once that I was a very different kind of pony than most she knew, and she followed me to see just what I was going to do next. Lastly, and most importantly, she followed me because Stone followed me. The pair had been nearly inseparable on the trip to Tombstone, and the bond they’d formed had only strengthened since then. She would join Stone in returning to Crossroads and get back to their old lives, together. I would miss them both when they leave.

Thinking of going home, I was reminded that the settlers from Tombstone and I were not the only ones without a home to return to. Spirit Walker would be staying in San Ponsisco. Like those of us from Stable 45, her home had been destroyed by raiders. The buffalo and her young colt ward would see to it that the others from their former settlement found themselves a place to stay and then perhaps seek work at the local medical center or one of the shops selling first aid supplies in the city. There was nothing left for her back east. No word of her fellow buffalos, no clues as to their fate, and now she had the young pony to look after. She couldn’t exactly go back out into the wasteland to seek answers. As for the colt, he didn’t seem inclined to leave her side for long just yet. Although, he was at last speaking with some of the other children aboard the train. That much was progress.

Carrion was another pony without a home and I honestly had no idea what the ghoul had planned for his future on the surface. He’d not spoken of what he intended on doing with his newfound freedom from Kanter City’s hellish sewers, likely because he’d never really thought of trying to escape them. If we hadn’t shown up, the undead stallion would likely still be waging his one pony war against the raiders that had taken over his former home. As it sounded, however, he may not have been so alone as he thought. While traveling through the mountains, Balefire had mentioned that a number of San Ponsisco’s inhabitants had sought shelter when the air raid sirens had blared out that fateful day. Like those in Kanter City, they sought shelter in the sewers and subway tunnels (like most major cities across the country no doubt), and they had likewise been turned into ghouls. Unlike in Kanter City, however, only a small number of them had turned feral. Many had retained their minds. Over the years, they’d built themselves a city under the ruins of their former home. Oddly enough, they named it Purgatory. Perhaps Carrion might find some long lost friends among the ghouls that lived there, or at least a new start.

Most of those survivors from my Stable were looking forward to seeing their loved ones in the city, those lucky enough not to be captured by raiders. Among them, Silverflash and Tassles. The happy couple spent the trip helping their fellow travelers with whatever they could. When not helping others, they spent their time speaking of the new life they’d start in the city and of the foals they’d always wanted. I left them to their happy thoughts, knowing that few things ever seemed to end well in the wasteland. Still, I prayed they’d have a happy ending.

Like Stone and Wild, Balefire would be returning home once we reached the city. After all, San Ponsisco was his home. He’d only been away from it while on some recon mission for the Confederate Army. That was also why I doubted I’d see much of the plucky green unicorn. As a member of the standing army, he would likely be returning to his duties. Once he’d been declared not dead, that is. He seemed to be looking forward to that, saying some of his fellow soldiers always told him he would end up dead in a ditch somewhere if he ever came across raiders. I believe he said he’d walk into the barracks and yell, ‘Guess who’s back from the dead, bitches?!’ He was also looking forward to seeing his foster family again, that most of all. He spoke often of his sister and mother, even going so far as to suggest hooking me up with his sister. I had a feeling Wild had her hoof in that.

Not everyone had left with us from Tombstone, however. Kanzi had stayed behind, along with Razor, Griff, Sparks, and Jury Rig. The zebra had been convinced to stay by Hank, the owner of the Drunken Mare. I think the old stallion was smitten by the pretty mare. I just hoped he could keep any of the townsfolk’s anger from turning from the banished settlers to the striped equines. Her family had stayed behind with her, though I’d never gotten to know them well. Doctor Mitchell seemed pleased with the mare staying in town, saying she had a future as a doctor and had even asked her to help him in the clinic.

As for the mercenaries, both the mayor and new sheriff seemed to trust them. After getting to know them a bit better, both on the ride to Tombstone and hearing what they’d done to try and save Sweetshot, I felt good knowing they’d be there to help. I was sure they’d have the town guards whipped into shape in no time. As Griff had said, it would be good for the group to find themselves someplace to settle down for awhile. I think it was because the griffon was sweet on one of the nurses in Mitchell's clinic as well.

And me?

I lowered my eyes from the speeding scenery outside the window. My thoughts drifted from the ponies both with me and left behind in Tombstone. Instead, my gaze turned to the photo laying beside me on the torn fabric seat. I gently reached a hoof out to the yellowed piece of paper, picking it up to look more closely at it. Like me, it had had a rough time in the wasteland and had gone through everything I had. The fall into the underground river in Kanter City’s subway tunnels had left it with water damage. The edges had been torn and ripped from the number of falls and hits I’d taken since beginning my journey and there were a number of creases across its once-smooth surface. The top right corner was even slightly frayed from where a bullet had passed through my saddlebag and it.

Despite all the damage it had taken, however, the three smiling ponies still looked back at me from the photo. The family photo of my sister and her daughter along with myself in the Stable’s apple orchard. A reminder of happier times, better times, times long past now. I closed my eyes and held the photo close to my chest, tears stinging them as I thought about those times and what lay ahead.

San Ponsisco would be both a blessing and a curse. The moment I was most dreading was quickly approaching. The moment when I’d be forced to tell my niece her mother wasn’t coming back to her, that I’d failed.

Opening my eyes, I felt a few tears run down my cheeks to strike the photo resting against my chest. I pulled it away and looked down to the faded image of my sister, lightly tracing a hoof over her smiling face. Of the three ponies in the photo, it was her who had suffered most of the damage over the past two weeks. It was as if the wasteland was not content to simply remove her from my life, but also was seeking to remove her completely from the world. As if everything the wasteland touched was its to change how it saw fit. Even the tears I’d shed for her had stained her image, and I rubbed the fresh moisture away from her mane.

A noise from nearby snapped me from those dark and perhaps insane thoughts, and I looked up to see Balefire standing beside my seat. A worried look was etched upon his dark green face, red eyes going from my own face to the photo in my hoof.

“Everything alright, boss?” he asked, red eyes going from the photo back to my face as I hurriedly stuffed it away back inside my saddlebags that lay on the seat beside me like a pillow.

“Yeah... everything’s alright, I was just thinking...” I answered him quickly, rubbing a hoof over my damp cheek before looking back up to them, ears rising up. “Is there something wrong?” I asked him, thinking perhaps the train had broken down or something else had forced us to stop. Part of me actually hoping that was the case. Anything to put off crushing my niece’s hopes. But that hope itself was crushed by the steady rock of the train car I was in. The young buck simply shook his head and motioned behind him. I looked where he’d indicated and noticed nearly everypony inside the passenger car had moved from their seats over to the left side of the car. All of them were staring out at something in the distance.

“No, there’s nothing wrong. We just reached the point where you can really see the city very well. I thought you might like to have a look at your new home,” he said with a smile, ears perked towards me. I’d seen that look before, in another young pony back in my Stable: Flash, the rookie Security pony.

Wild had mentioned Balefire looking up to me after everything I’d done, but I’d not really thought much about it. Seemed the mare had been right. A fact my sister would have no doubt rubbed in my face about how often mares were right about everything.

I nodded my head to him before rising from my seat and reaching for my saddlebags out of habit. They’d not left my side for longer than a moment. Turning away, Balefire led the way down the empty aisle between seats and moved towards the front of the train and the flatbed cars. Pulling open the door earned us a grumble from the ponies nearest as the wind swept inside the car, blowing manes, tails ,and anything not held down about the car. Flashing them a grin, the unicorn hurriedly stepped outside and I followed suit, shutting the door behind us as I did.

Outside the train, I noticed something different about the air as it blew across my face, whipping my mane and tail behind me. Like everywhere else in the wasteland I’d been, it was dry and humid. However, there was a smell to it I’d never come across. I tilted my head and raised my muzzle to the breeze, sniffing the air blowing across it deeply. It sorta smelled salty. In front of me, Balefire chuckled as he watched me, and I hurriedly lowered my head from the sky.

“That’s the ocean you're smelling. The wind is blowing in across the city at this time of day.” He turned his head back to the flatbed and started trotting across it, with me following closely behind. As we wound our way between the stacks of lumber, I glanced over at them, thinking about the plans we had for them. Once we’d reached the city and got everypony settled, we’d sell the lumber to the government through sources Balefire knew. We then would divide the caps we made between everypony aboard the train. According to Stone, there should be enough to give them all a better chance at a new life. It seemed fitting that something so many had died to collect should be used now to give them a chance to live.

Working our way to the second car, I saw that we were not the only ones out here. I smiled at the little group gathered along the edge of the flatbed, either sitting on the car itself or resting upon the logs piled up beside and behind them.

Stone turned to look at who had just stepped onto the car and smiled upon seeing me following Balefire towards them. The large earth pony reached up a hoof and tipped his hat towards me. Beside and laying stretched out upon a log, Wild looked over the top of her lover's head and grinned. She waved a feathered limb in my direction before she turned her face back westward. I noticed how much brighter her orange coat and red mane appeared in the light of midday. Odd seeing how the clouds overhead had not released their hold on the sun and sky.

Standing off to himself, Carrion’s rotting face was an emotionless mask as his orange glowing eyes rested upon the western horizon. His combat armor was still resting upon his frame, though he’d removed his helmet and had it hanging from a belt across his midsection. His horned head nodded once as he saw me looking his way from the corner of his eye. He looked slightly better than he had and I hoped getting further away from Kanter City would do him good.

Towering over the ponies around her, Spirit sat with her young pony ward resting atop her horned head. The buffalo’s eyes shifted from the distant horizon to me, a smile forming across her snout as she dipped her head towards me in greeting. The colt atop her head blinked as his position was shifted and held tightly to the twin short black horns curving up from his caretaker’s curly mane.

Following their gaze westward, I looked out across the rolling plains of rock and scrub brush and spotted San Ponsisco, far closer than I’d expected. Dark twisted towers of jagged steel rose up into the brightly glowing sky, much like they had been in Kanter City. It seemed the bombs had sheared away their upper stories as well. However, unlike the city of darkness, death, and misery, this city was alive... with light. My eyes widened and I took several steps back in awe.

“Sweet goddesses above...” I whispered as the tracks below the train curved slowly westward, taking us towards the single most beautiful sight I’d seen since leaving my home and setting hoof upon the surface.

Rising among the shattered black towers of stone and steel, stood a single gleaming spire painted in vibrant colors of turquoise and gold. It glowed brightly against the darkness that surrounded it. Against all odds, this single building had not only survived the destruction of the world around it, but continued to shine. Glass windows sparkled in the warm yellow glow that the building seemed to generate for itself, casting a rainbow of colors for miles around. It was no wonder ponies had flocked to this place, to this beacon of hope in a world of eternal twilight.

“Hope Tower,” Balefire said softly beside us, giving the towering spire of light a name that befitted its majesty.

“That it is...” Stone whispered, reaching up to remove his hat as he stared on in wonder with wide green eyes. Even Wild seemed speechless for once. She rose up from where she lay on the log, watching the gleaming tower of light sparkle in the distance. She leaned over and gently nuzzled her stallion’s cheek, a smile on her lips.

Behind us, I heard Spirit’s soft whispered words, offering thanks to her father and their ancestors. I didn’t need to look back to know she was smiling, I could hear it in her voice somehow. The colt sitting atop her head gasped.

An unexpected sound, however, did force me to tear my eyes away from the tower and shift them towards Carrion, who seemed to be the source of the sound. A rather unexpected sight greeted me as I looked towards the ghoul. He stood, looking up to the glowing beacon of Equestria’s former glory. His orange eyes fixed upon a point near the very top. Another choked sob passed his lips as tears began running down his pockmarked cheeks. I started to ask him what was wrong, when he stiffened and saluted sharply at whatever he had seen. I turned and followed his gaze, looking to the top of the tower and something billowing in the breeze that blew in from behind the city. As my eyes traced up the narrow antenna atop the roof, I saw a purple flag waving against the glowing grey clouds.

Waving proudly in that humid, salty breeze was the flag of Equestria. It was deep purple in color with twin alicorns circling one another. One white,one black, with a sun and moon between them, horns pointed towards them and each other.

“Welcome to San Ponsisco, guys...” Balefire said, grinning up at the tower. “Welcome to New Equestria.”

We reached the outskirts of the city an hour later among the excited murmurings of the ponies aboard the train. The sight of Hope Tower had lifted the spirits of many of the passengers we carried westward, even those who had lost everything. As the tracks brought us into the still-ruined sections of the city, I got a better look at where ponies had begun rebuilding.

As the raiders had done in Kanter City, the inhabitants here had erected a wall around only those sections of the city where they lived and worked. To wall in the entire city would have been impossible, given the amount of time and work it would have taken. Cities like this had once been home to hundreds of thousands of ponies. Now most held no more than a few hundred, while big ones like San Ponsisco housed a couple thousand. However, according to Balefire, there was talk of expanding the wall outward to take in more sections of the city, given the growth of the population within the city walls.

The wall itself was a truly impressive sight. Though we were still some distance away, I could tell a good deal of work had gone into its construction. In places, whole ruined buildings had been incorporated into the wall and formed towers of stone and steel like some ancient medieval castle of old. With the help of those buildings, I got a general idea of how tall the wall was, roughly between four and five stories in height. It put the walls I’d seen in Crossroads and Tombstone to shame in scale and design. I imagined it would take nothing less than an army to have any hope of storming them.

Yet it was not the only defence that the city had from attack. Scattered around the walled-in inhabited portion were a number of small forts, built around a collection of repaired buildings and walled-in like small bases. They had been built within key locations along routes leading towards the cities gates. They formed checkpoints for ponies seeking to enter the Confederacy's capital, where caravans and travelers would be searched to insure they were not raiders, slavers, or intent on any harm to the citizens of the city. Each fort was home to over thirty or fifty ponies (depending on its size and importance). All of them were members of the Confederate Army and were kept supplied by wagons from the city or, in times of conflict, by the sewers and subway tunnels under the city streets. Each was heavily armed for repelling attacks by raiders, mutants, or rampaging wildlife with a number of machine guns, sniper rifles, and even a few army artillery pieces found scattered about the wasteland.

It was one of these forts we now approached, built along the tracks to check anypony using them to find their way to the city. Additionally, to check those using them to move goods and supplies with hoof driven carts or brahmin pulled wagons. According to Balefire, it was one of the more smaller forts. Since so few ponies used the tracks, it hadn’t seemed practical to build a larger defense. The walled section of ruins we slowly moved towards had a wall more similar in size and shape to that of Crossroads. It was only two stories in height in places and made of broken chariots, rubble, or iron support beams driven into the pavement.

The walled-in section surrounded five small buildings, all showing signs of actually being repaired. The discolored bricks stood out easily where sections of collapsed walls had been replaced and even glassed in the windows, though it appeared a bit foggy. Four of the buildings stood between four or five stories in height and appeared to have been mostly apartment buildings, with rusty-looking fire escapes and faded paint.

The fifth building actually appeared to have been a restaurant, the faded letters atop the roof at one point spelling out ‘Donut Joe’s’. Beside the building was a tall sign that seemed to have survived the centuries rather well given the state of the rest of the city. The sign had once been a rather large donut made of metal with the name of the restaurant written around the hole. Now, only the word ‘Joe’s’ remained, as the top half of the donut had been cut away and been replaced with a flat metal platform and short walls. It formed the perfect and most basic of watch towers and gave the ponies atop it a good view of the city around them.

It was currently occupied by three ponies sitting atop it, two of them with sniper rifles while the third held a pair of binoculars, and all of them pointed our way. I was suddenly very glad Doctor Brown had removed so much of the raider garbage that had adorned the train. Nothing gets you shot faster than looking like a raider. Movement behind the ponies caught my eyes and I looked past them to a building with something atop it. It was a flag, but not the Equestrian flag I’d seen billowing atop Hope Tower. This one appeared to belong to the new government, though it shared a number of similarities to the older flag.

At its core, the flag was a soft white instead of the royal purple used on the older one. Its center bore the same twin alicorns along with the sun and moon circling one another upon a disk of dark blue. Around this were smaller disks of the same color, each with a single golden star within. Each of those stars had a single number sewn upon it in black thread, 47, 55, 38, 50, and so on. It took me only a moment to release that each of those numbers represented a Stable, and for the ponies within them that had made the journey here to San Ponsisco. It was those same ponies who then formed the Confederate Stables of Equestria.

My eyes dropped from the flag and the walled fort to the tracks ahead as the train came to a complete stop, releasing a cloud of steam and smoke into the midday air. As the cloud cleared, I saw that an old rusted out passenger wagon had been pulled across the tracks. It was easily the size of one of the train cars and about as large. It had been used to carry ponies all across the city, drawn by two strong drivers in the front. Now it was being used as an impromptu road block. Beside it stood over a dozen armed ponies, their weapons pointed towards the train.

They wore tan colored jumpsuits that bore a striking similarity to my blue and yellow stable jumpsuit. Over this they had a drab olive green combat armor, looking almost brand new save for a few nicks and chipped paint. Nearly all wore combat helmets that were colored the same green as their armor, and personalized in some way to each pony. Those that didn’t wore cowpony hats of dark brown with a olive green wrap. Their weapons looked as well-maintained as their armor, and were largely Equestrian assault rifles. Two had battle saddles across their backs; one with a rocket launcher, the other a mini gun. There was no telling how many more weapons were pointed at us from behind the fort’s walls. Once again, I was thankful for Doc’s maintenance.

Still, we’d been expecting this, and we’d already planned out how we’d deal with it. Carefully, keeping our mouths far away from the firing bits of our weapons, or in Balefire’s case keeping his horn dark, we dismounted from the side of the train. Our hooves kicked up a small amount of dust as we landed upon the gravel lining the tracks. We’d decided to only approach them with three of our number to help keep things from getting complicated. Balefire would lead the way since he knew how things worked here, despite being missing for a few weeks.

The dozen ahead of us shifted their aim from the train to us. The more heavily-armed ponies turned their weapons back onto the engine in front of them as if expecting a sudden trick. I couldn’t blame them and their caution, as I couldn’t blame the ponies of Steeldome when they’d disarmed us. This was their home, their rules. Given their place, I’d do no less, especially after seeing what all the wasteland had waiting in the darkness.

“That’s far enough. What brings you to San Ponsisco, and where the hell did you get a working train from?” one of the mares called out to us. She wore a cowpony hat similar in shape to my own, though a lighter brown. On her shoulder guards, I saw a number of yellow bars, marking her out as an officer among the others, and therefore the leader. The pink coated earth pony looked us each over before her blue eyes stopped upon Balefire. “Balefire?” she asked incredulously, not believing her eyes.

“Captain Rosestar, nice to see you’re still as lovely as ever!” the buck said with a grin, earning a blush from the mare.

“Sergeant Backfire said you were killed by raiders,” she went on, arching a brow to the dark green pony before her. Her assault rifle lowered as she spoke with us. The remaining seven weapons, however, stayed pointing towards us.

“I suppose I can’t blame him for that; anypony captured by raiders is as good as dead... and I would have been if not for this pony.” At that, he wrapped a green foreleg around my neck and dragged me over to him. I erped at the sudden inclusion to the conversation. “He and his friends saved my flanks from a rather hard death as a slave laborer.”

“And the train?” she asked, eyes going from Balefire to me, looking more closely at me. My weapons, my armor, perhaps seeing if I possessed some sort of risk to her or her soldiers.

“Stolen from the raiders inside Kanter City, along with every prisoner they still had alive, plus a number of refugees from raider-destroyed settlements near Tombstone,” Balefire answered with a slight smirk. The soldiers’ weapons wavered at that, some whispering to one another while all looking over at me. Balefire released me from his hold and trotted a few steps towards Rosestar. “Look, Rosey, we got almost a hundred hungry and thirsty ponies aboard that train, all looking for a change for a better future.” The mare turned her eyes from me to Balefire and tilted her head a bit. She shook her head, though a slight smile formed on her lips.

“You never did learn how to address a superior officer, Bale,” she said with a snort.

“No, but I know several ways to undress them,” the buck shot back with a grin. Rose ignored him, though the blush on her cheeks darkened as she turned back to me.

“So, you’re the Marshall who Three Horns has been yapping about for the past couple days?” she asked me, blue eyes softening a bit from their earlier scrutiny. They passed from me to Stone and then quickly back. “If you’ve really done half the things that crazy old bitch has said...”

“I suppose I am the one she’s been talking about. Though I don’t know whether everything she’s said I’ve done is true, not having heard much of what she’s said,” I calmly replied, meeting her careful stare. It seemed enough for her, and she smiled before turning to the soldiers around her, speaking to a unicorn stallion on her right.

“Sergeant, I want this train searched from top to bottom. Every nook and cranny, as we would with any caravan entering the city. Search any ponies aboard as well and get Second Squad’s lazy flanks out here to help you. Have them bring some food and water as well for these ponies.” The stallion saluted and hurriedly began issuing orders to the ponies around him.

“You heard the Captain, fillies, get a move on it!”

“Sorry, no exceptions to the rules, boys,” Rosestar said, waving for two of the soldiers to remain with us. With a nod to Stone and I, she turned to Balefire. “Your mother and sister are going to be surprised to see you, Bale,” the mare said, as she started trotting towards the train. Balefire moved to walk beside her.

As Stone and I turned to follow, I noticed one of the soldiers that had been left behind to watch us was eyeing me closely with wide, young purple eyes. The cream colored earth pony mare couldn’t have been much older than Balefire and seemed struggling to ask me something. Seeing the other mare from the corner of her eyes, Rose sighed and shook her head.

“Is there something you’d like to ask, Private?” The younger mare blinked and looked back to her superior officer and blushed, but nodded. Before anypony else could say anything, she turned to me to ask.

“So, you didn’t drop a tower onto a giant radioactive gecko?” She blinked again as Stone laughed from beside me, the older stallion turning to grin at me and then to the mare.

“Oh, no, that part’s true, miss. Dropped an entire tower onta th’ things head as it was tryin’ ta eat me.” The mare’s eyes got wider and even Rose looked interested. “‘Course, that didn’t kill it, so when he saw it rise up and charge us, he threw himself onto it and shoved a grenade down it’s throat. Blew it up from th’ inside.”

“That’s so cool...” the mare whispered as she stared up at me in awe.

Nope, never going to live that down... fuck you, giant radioactive acid-spitting gecko...

Thankfully, it didn’t take very long for Captain Rosestar’s soldiers to check the train and the ponies aboard. Most, however, were a bit upset over being searched and questioned so much, especially after everything they’d gone through just to get here. But the food and water the soldiers offered did much to smooth over any ruffled manes, and was much appreciated.

After another hour or so of waiting (I lost track of time, thanks in part to Stone and Wild filling the heads of off-duty soldiers with tales of my exploits; most of them were true, sadly), we were finally cleared to continue into the ruins and enter the city. The Captain assured us she would send word ahead so we’d have no trouble getting past the guards at the gate and I thanked her. Everypony aboard was tired and ready to put everything that happened behind them, myself included, and get on with our lives.

The route to the gate led us through the still ruined parts of the city. The tracks had been cleared of rubble and debris and actually looked repaired in places. Not all that surprising, really, since Stone had pointed out the Confederacy had a working train. Given what I’d seen and heard of their military thus far, it was likely they used it for moving supplies and troops about their territory. It’d give them an advantage over the raiders and slavers.

Unlike the fort, the buildings we passed by slowly had not been repaired and many of them had simply collapsed into the empty streets. Some were blocked completely in places, covered in two or three stories of rubble. Others, however, did show signs of having been partly taken apart: missing walls, door frames, fire escapes, and entire floors in some cases. All of it was taken behind the wall or to the forts in an effort to help maintain those buildings that ponies used. Perhaps some of it had been used to help build the wall around the city. At least that’s what I thought until we drew a bit closer to it and I could see it more clearly now.

As the train rattled along the tracks, I saw that the wall around the city was not made up of wagons and rubble as the forts or the other towns I’d visited had been. It was in fact made of huge steel slabs that towered over the streets. Looking closer, I saw that in places it appeared two different pieces of metal had been welded together to fill the gap between buildings. In places where the rusted metal met the stone walls, it had been slotted almost neatly into the stonework. This must have taken years to build, including ponies with rare skills. Atop these steel slabs, catwalks had been placed with metal fencing to serve as protection for those ponies walking between the buildings. Metal struts held them in places every so often along the length of the walkway. This wasn’t so much a city as a fortress; a fortress against the horrors of the wasteland.

Nearing the wall, I looked up in awe at the skill that had gone into constructing this wall. I then noticed something about one of the metal slabs. Narrowing my eyes upon the oddly out of place design, I suddenly realized where these pieces of rusted metal had come from. The odd design was in fact faded white letterings. If you looked closely, it simply said, ‘HMS Buttercup.’ These had once been the hulls of ships. They had likely sat rusting out in the city’s harbor for years until ponies had returned and begun rebuilding, slicing through the hulls to make their wall. Still, it must have taken dozens of ponies to haul those bits of metal all the way from the shipyards and docks.

“Works a hell of alot better than the wall that used to protect the city,” Balefire said from beside me. I blinked, not having heard the stallion approach. He pointed a hoof towards the base of the wall and the piles of rubble laying about. “About thirty years ago, it used to have walls like those in Tombstone and a dozen other small settlements across the wasteland.”

“What happened?” I asked, looking from the wall to the unicorn beside me.

“Large band of raiders happened. Just trotted on in after blowing a hole in the wall and started slaughtering ponies in the street. The defense force they had back then managed to hold them off long enough for the army to return from a push against the super mutants to drive the raiders out and kill most of them.”

Hmm. So the city had been attacked before. Not surprising, really; it likely attracted a fair bit of attention, being so large and well known in this part of Equestria. Raiders likely drooled at the thought of so many ponies gathered in one place for them to kill.

“So Mom and the other leaders of the city called for plans to be submitted for a new, better wall to protect the city. A number of ideas were sent in for review, everything from demolishing entire buildings to build a mountain of rubble, to tearing down buildings to build it brick by brick. A lot of ideas; only a few of them were good, but this one caught her eye. It’d been sent in by a young unicorn stallion fresh out of a stable. He had a wealth of good ideas for how to improve the city. His idea was bold...” The young stallion looked away from me to the wall we were slowly approaching, “... very bold. Nopony believed he could pull it off, nopony but Mom. She gave him the chance to prove it could be done and he spent his own caps hiring a crew from his own stable and a number of other ponies to help him. They went to work in the shipyard with blow torches working day and night to cut through the thick hulls. When they were done, a team of unicorns combined their magic to lift the things all the way to the building sight. Then those ponies who had cut them began welding them back together and attaching them to the nearby buildings and shoring them up.” He pointed a hoof to the wall. “Each section of the wall is made up of two parts, the outside wall and the inside wall. Two sections of hull with space between is filled with rubble, sand, and a number of other things, capped with concrete at the top.”

Bold indeed. I looked up at the section of wall he pointed and thought of all the work that must have gone into it.

“It took them nearly two weeks to finish just one section of wall,” he added, looking over the wall with pride. “It impressed everypony. Before he knew it, he was hired not just to build the wall, but to become the first City Manager. They even gave a hundred ponies to work for him. Had the wall finished in a year.” His hoof swept over the wall. “Goes all the way around the city to the waterline. From there they sunk a couple of ships out in the harbor and built the wall upon them until they finally could go no further.”

“So a pony could just swim around it?” I asked. That seemed a bit of a bad idea.

“It’s possible, but the wall extends a fair distance out. At the ends they wrapped wire over and under the water attached to buoys tied to anchors. There’s also the predators to worry about. The radiation didn’t just fuck with those animals on land.” He looked off to the distance. “There’s some nasty beasts prowling the waters around the city: sharks with tentacles, giant eels, and crabs... no way to completely kill them all off, they just move in from deeper out in the ocean.”

“Right... well, I suppose skinny dipping is out of the question.” That comment earned me a chuckle and he turned back towards me.

“They stay away from the shore for the most part. Attacks on ponies working around the docks are rare. They mostly hunt out around the edge of the wall and the wire we have strung out.”

Below us, the train began to slow more as we approached the gate sitting across the track. As Captain Rosestar had promised, they began to open slowly outward for us. The gates themselves appeared to also have come from the ships used for the wall, perhaps from a large cargo vessel of some sort. They had been placed between two sections of hull with a smaller section welded above them. The doors themselves were held by four hinges, likely from the original ship. As the doors opened, it appeared they had some system in place that did not require ponies to push them open. However, I couldn’t see any way they had been set up. I would have asked, but before I could, I caught sight of what lay beyond those doors and the wall around it.

As the train pulled through the gateway and into the city, I stared up in awe at the number of buildings before me. Some six or seven stories tall and all nearly in perfect condition. Like the fort, there was evidence of where other building materials had been used to repair holes or collapsed sections. Windows filled with foggy glass reflected the shining light from Hope Tower. While there were signs the upper stories still needed work, it was also clear that they were being worked on. Most had scaffolding in place so workers could reach the places in need of repair. A few were even whole, having completely been rebuilt. I could even see ponies in the windows going about their lives.

My eyes dropped to the streets below and the hustle of dozens of ponies going to and fro for reasons only they knew. Among them I saw olive garbed soldiers moving with them. They were likely off duty since few wore armor or carried a weapon and most seemed to have mares or stallions dressed as civilians walking beside them. I noticed two other things about the crowds. Few beyond the soldiers seemed to be armed. While I’d not heard or been told of any law against carrying weapons within the city, it was clear that most felt safe enough inside the walled area to go without them. The other thing I noticed was that there were not just ponies among the crowd. There were several griffons, zebras, donkeys, mules, and a fair number of ghouls mingling among the colorful manes and coats of the ponies.

“We’re approaching the station. You’d best get everypony ready to go,” Balefire said, nodding towards a building we were coming up on. It bore a similar appearance to the one in Tombstone, with a large platform for passengers to climb off. Like many of the other buildings around it, it showed numerous signs of having been repaired and seemed to still be in use, given the number of ponies standing upon the platform. Were they expecting a train to come along soon? Looking closer at the milling group of ponies, I spotted a number of familiar faces, many wearing blue and yellow jumpsuits and couldn’t help but smile.

Within moments, we at long last had come to a halt with a hiss of steam and a blow of the whistle. The doors of the cars opened as ponies placed their hooves to them and began to step hoof out onto the platform lining the length of four of the cars. Off to one side were a number of soldiers, their weapons holstered or over their backs. Likely they were there to make sure we got ourselves off alright. Most of the ponies who set hoof outside stared about themselves in wonder at the sights and sounds of an actual living city. Few had seen such tall buildings whole and in use, or been anywhere beyond their small corner of the wasteland. Foals of every age darted out between their parents’ legs, happy to be free of the confines of the train. They laughed and explored their new surroundings, asking questions about this or that.

Balefire had already gotten off the train while I’d been looking over the city. Stone and Wild were still likely up front in the engine. Spirit was off seeing to the ponies we’d brought with us. Carrion was wherever Carrion was; the ghoul hadn’t said much since we’d left Tombstone. As I stepped out onto the loading platform, I spotted the ponies I’d seen standing around the platform began trotting my way. A large, red unicorn stallion in the lead wearing a large grin. I’d not taken a half dozen steps when a voice whispered out beside me.

“Mom... daddy...” broke through the sounds around me, and I turned in time to see a slender mare slip past me and the others near the door to rush out towards the oncoming crowd of ponies. Two of them detached themselves from the others and rushed to meet Tassles as she threw her forelegs around a middle aged blue stallion, wearing a stable jumpsuit. The mare began sobbing happily into his mane as she held him tightly.

“Daddy!” she cried as the stallion nuzzled her cheek. The older mare beside him, Tassles’ mother, nuzzled her daughter’s other cheek, tears streaming down her grey coated cheeks.

Silverflash hurried out after his marefriend, seeming reluctant to interrupt the tearful reunion. Instead, Tassles’ mother tugged the stallion over into what was becoming a group hug that had several nearby ponies in tears themselves. All along the platform, a number of similar reunions were taking place as those captured by the raiders found those who’d made the trip to the city on hoof, neither believing they’d see the other again. The close-knit bonds that we’d shared within the Stable drove more than just family and friends to gather around one of the returned ponies. We were all family in one way or another. Above it all, Hope Tower cast its warm glow down upon the happy scene playing out below it.

As I stood there watching, Tassles’ father looked up and saw me. A smile spread across his tear stained face. Before either of us looked away, he mouthed the words, ‘Thank you.’ I could do little more than nod my head, a smile on my own face.

Against all odds, all reasonable expectations, across a wasteland made to kill us, through hell itself in the tunnels of Kanter City, past mutant beasts with a taste for pony, insane raiders and any number of other hazards, we had made it. Somehow, we’d really made it, but never alone. Friendship had seen me through nearly all of it, from the very beginning of my journey to its end.

The fierce loyalty of Stonehoof, never leaving my side even though he had the chance to do so several times. It could have cost him his life, but he stood by me through it all.

The kindness of a buffalo willing to help a complete stranger, half drowned. Anypony else would have left me for dead or simply taken my gear, but Spirit Walker had gone out of her way to mend my broken body.

Wildfire had never spent a moment worrying when she could have spent it laughing or lifting our spirits. When I’d found the broken mare, she’d had a quick wit and sharp tongue. Over the past few weeks, both had gotten worse. I’d have it no other way.

Even Carrion, despite his rugged demeanor, had honestly stood beside me, pointing out flaws or mistakes and fighting as hard as the rest of us when push came to shove. I hoped he could find himself a new life here.

Balefire generously lending a hoof when he could have simply sat it out with the other rescued prisoners. The dark green unicorn had given everything he had in our fight to save the settlers from the Blackhoofs, and had risked his neck to keep the stolen goods out of their hooves.

I suppose the old saying is true: friendship really is magic.

With my mind wandering, I hadn’t seen the rather unmistakable sight of a large red unicorn trotting up to me, nor had I seen him reach out with thick forelegs. I did see, however, as they wrapped around my neck and hauled me off my hooves. I also felt it as I was crushed against a large barrel-like chest wearing a Stable jumpsuit. It seemed the intent was clear... to crush the life from my small frame... or simply to hug me to death. Whichever came first. I waved my hooves in panic for a moment before a deep tearful voice said.

“You damned lucky son of a bitch!” I snorted softly as Brightblade’s voice boomed out from his mouth even as he hugged me tightly to his chest like a filly hugs a stuffed toy. He at last noticed I was turning blue and released me from his vice like grip, letting me drop to the platform with an *oof.* “Some of us were beginning to lose hope we’d ever see you again.”

Picking myself up from the floor, I dusted myself off and turned to look at my childhood friend. He’d aged a good deal since last I’d seen him, two weeks ago outside our former home. The stallion’s once smooth, handsome face now sported a large nasty scar running down his cheek and to his throat. How he’d not died from the wound was a wonder. His perked ears were tattered in several places and there were a number of wrinkles along his muzzle and cheek from wind and worry. His normally happy eyes had dark circles under them and they looked tired, but warmed as he looked at me. Lastly his long golden mane had been cut short, shorter than I’d ever remember seeing him have it. I must have stared longer than I thought because he snorted and flashed me a familiar looking smile.

“Ya know, ya don’t look much better, Shadow. You look like I feel.” he said. I chuckled a bit at the words, himself and a few ponies standing around us joining in.

Looking around, I saw most of the ponies with my friend where from the Stable. Most had worked for me as security ponies. I was glad to see that most of them had survived the trip, since they’d been taking the brunt of whatever the wasteland threw at them. I didn’t see Cinnamon or any of the older ponies in the team. Brightblade noticed my look and signed softly.

“We lost about fifteen ponies crossing the wasteland before we ran across the Confederate Rangers. Most of them from Security.” He looked back to the ponies around him. Like him at the mention of their lost comrades, their ears and tails drooped as they thought of them. I could only imagine what had happened from my own experiences, but it began to worry me at those missing from this little group. My friend sighed before turning back to me. “But we can talk about that later, in one of the local bars while we toast those gone to a better place. For now, this is a time to celebrate. You’ve managed to save nearly all of those taken... and more it seems.” He smiled once more and pointed a hoof towards the train behind me and the ponies still dismounting it. “Never did things small, did you?” Despite the grim news of earlier, I chuckled softly.

“No, I suppose I never did,” I answered back, looking back over the platform as the train emptied of ponies. I saw Wild and Stone standing near the front of the train speaking with one another. The mare flapped her wings as she looked up at the buildings overhead. My eyes then passed over Willow as she led her fellow Tombstone ponies into a group. She’d become the leader of them with the death of her husband. Most of the settlers looked up to her and, despite trusting the Blackhoofs, she had enough common sense to make a good leader. I noticed that Balefire was speaking to her, nodding his head down the street to something just out of sight. As he did, his horn began glowing and, from a pair of saddlebags he’d taken from the Blackhoofs, he withdrew some papers and presented them to the mare.

I blinked and looked down to my own saddlebags. Those had looked like the papers that the mayor of Tombstone had given me to give to them. Papers giving them a full pardon for the actions of a few in Tombstone. Sadly, it placed the blame upon the two who’d been hung (Willow’s husband included), but it was worded carefully to not incriminate the others. It was to help them settle here in San Ponsisco, make them seem more the victim so nopony would look at them with suspicion. How Balefire had gotten them, I had no clue.

As Willow turned to her fellow settlers, saying something I could not hear over the muffled cries of joy coming from my own corner of the platform, Balefire turned his head towards me. He gave me a grin before turning away and falling into step with Willow and the others. I suppose he’d earned that cutie mark for more than just picking locks. He’d likely known I was planning on helping them get settled myself, and had taken it upon himself to see to it. That there were so many single mares among them likely had nothing to do with it. I snorted and looked away as they trotted down the street.

I turned back to my fellow (former) Stable dwellers as they spoke with one another, hugging those I’d brought back. They started to move away from the train, likely to their new homes. I saw a few sad faces among those waiting at the station, as some of the ones I’d saved told them of the ones I hadn’t. Mothers wept for sons and daughters, friends for friends. I knew how they felt, and it made me think of the one last duty I had to perform before I could allow myself to relax completely. My eyes scanned the platform for any sign of a short pink filly. However, beyond those with Willow’s group or those drawn from around the street by all the ponies suddenly coming from a strange train, I saw no sign of my niece.

“If you’re looking for Sugar, she’s with Nurse Spearmint. We didn’t want her to get her hopes up too high if the train full of refugees Three Horn had been talking about wasn’t you and the others missing. Still, she said it’d be you, that her Uncle Shadow was coming back.” Bright chuckled and shook his head, his short yellow mane shifting about as he did. “She’s been busy planning a party ever since, despite us telling her to wait. I dunno how you or Ebony did it. That filly’s a hoof full, but I’ll be damned if she didn’t take the journey here better than some of the adults...” his voice faltered as he noticed the look come across my face at the mention of my sister. He sighed and lowered his head.

“I couldn’t save her, Bright... I couldn’t save my own sister...” I said, my voice barely a whisper, tears threatening to once more spill free across my face as I remembered the last time I’d seen her... before I’d been forced to... forced to...

“I’m so sorry, Shadow...” he answered. The ponies behind him blinked at the news that their Overmare was dead. She’d been the most beloved of the mare’s to hold that title in the Stable. More so than even our mother. “I know you did everything you could to bring her back. I know how much she meant to you... hell, to all of us! Is there anything we can do?” He placed a hoof gently upon my shoulder as I sat down on my haunches.

“Just take me to Sugar, please... I have to tell her...”

The final leg of my journey was fittingly by hoof, as it had started out. It only took us a few minutes to reach the collection of buildings the survivors from 45 had been given to live in by the government. A few were in need of simple repairs, but for the most part were far more than anypony could have dreamed of while out in the hellish wasteland. It wasn’t far from the train station, which is why they’d all arrived so quickly. More familiar faces waited for me on the street as we made our way towards one of the buildings. However, at the look on my face, they allowed me to pass with only a ‘welcome back,’ or nod of their head. To be honest, I didn’t really pay that much attention, despite knowing some of them hadn’t made it. My focus now was on my niece.

Thunder rumbled out overhead as we entered one of the buildings, a simple looking red brick apartment building. Bright told me what floor and what door was the one Spearmint shared with my niece, and I nodded my head in thanks. With a hug and soft nuzzle, we parted ways and I began my steady slow climb. I began wondering just how I was going to tell the filly that her mother wasn’t coming home. Should I lie to her as we did when she asked about her father? Given the wasteland’s cruel nature, it may be better to tell her the truth. Death was the way of life on the surface. At last, I reached the correct floor and stood before the correct door. My niece lay just beyond it, happy and safe. Taking a deep breath, I reached for the doorknob and pushed it open.

The room I stepped into was simple yet clean and organized, for the most part. There were several pieces of furniture inside: a couch, a pair of chairs and a simple table marked off the living room. Behind this was a table with four wooden chairs and a couple cabinets built into the wall for the dining room. A walled off section before me was likely the kitchen, and a hallway to my left would lead off to the bedrooms and bath. There were even a few old faded photos hanging upon the wall over equally faded and old wallpaper. However, it was the chaotic parts of the room that caught my eye.

Somepony had been busy preparing a party. Streams of every color of a fabled rainbow hung from the ceiling by nails, tape, or anything else the decorator had close at hoof. They draped across the photos and over the wallpaper, giving the room a more cheerful look. Tied with string from the armrests of the chairs and couch were an equal number of colorful balloons. A number of them had a smiling face drawn on them with a black marker. Both a small table before the couch and the dining room table had a fair number of treats upon them, from a couple bottles of Sparkle Cola to pre-war snack cakes. Beside the food were a couple party hats and favors. Scattered across the wooden floor and over the tables was confetti, completely tossed wildly about. It looked as if a party store had exploded in the room.

Stepping more fully into the room, I reached back and loosened my saddlebags from my back, allowing the heavy packs to drop the floor in a cloud of dust. Dipping my head down, I slipped Luna’s Ruse from around my neck. Insuring the safety was on, I placed it lightly upon the bags. As I turned back to the room, I spotted something on the wall to my left. A large banner written in a childish scrawl with crayons read ‘Welcome home Mommy, Daddy, and Uncle Shadow!’

“Oh, Tiny...” As if my whispered words had conjured the filly, a small pink foal trotted out from the doorway leading into what was likely the kitchen. She was carrying a large plate of cupcakes in her mouth. The plate was nearly as large as her. Somehow, she managed to not only make her way towards the dining room table, but to also leap up onto one of the chairs that had been pulled out and slide the tray of sweets atop it. A serious look crossed my young niece’s face as she cocked her head to the display, sticking her tongue out she reached a small hoof out to adjust a couple of the party hats into a far more fitting display. Party planning was serious business, she had told me once. At last happy with how it all looked, she grinned wide and nodded her head.

“Now, Sugar, I think we’ve done enough for now, we need to wait and make sure it’s really them before...” the voice trailed off as Nurse Spearmint trotted through the doorway a few moments after Sugar. Her eyes went wide as I stood there in the doorway to the apartment. A tray of cups clattered to the floor as she lost her grip on them with her magic.

“Auntie Spearmint, what's wrong?” Sugar called out to her caretaker, looking over to the mare before following her shocked look to me. The filly froze and her golden eyes widened at the sight of me. A moment passed, the cups rolling about the hooves of the green unicorn, but forgotten for now. The moment was at last broken as Sugar gave a loud, happy, childish shout and leapt from her chair with a room brightening smile.

“Uncle Shadow!! Uncle Shadow, you’re back!! You’re home!!” she giggled and nearly tipped over the chair in her excitement to reach me. Only the sudden glow of magic kept the seat upright enough to stop my niece from face-planting into the hardwood floor. None of this mattered to the tiny pink filly as her hooves clattered across the floorboards, racing up towards me to wrap her tiny forelegs around one of my own and at once began nuzzling me. “I knew you’d make it back!! I told Uncle Bright to stop being such a frumpy grumpy pony. That nothing could stop my Uncle Shadow!!” she giggled at that before releasing my leg and leaning back a bit.

That bright smile and those happy eyes for a moment made me forget why I’d been so dreading seeing her. I smiled a bit and reached a hoof out to gently ruffle her mane. She giggled at that and swatted at my large black hoof with a smaller pink one, bouncing away from me a bit. Her ears perked upright as she looked to the door behind me, perhaps expecting two other ponies to follow me in.

“Where's mommy and daddy?”

Those four simple words brought the harsh realities back for me and my smile faded from my face. I found myself unable to answer that simple question. She looked up at me, the happy look in her eyes replaced with a bit of worry. She asked me again, a slight trace of fear in her voice that replaced the joyful note from just a moment before. My eyes settled upon those of my niece. So much like mine. So much like her mother’s. I lowered myself down upon the floor, the weariness of the past two weeks catching up with me.

Tears began forming in those large golden orbs as she looked up at me, ears drooping and her lip quivering. She began to sniff, her small body shaking as the door behind me shut with a soft flick and glow of Spearmint’s horn. She knew. She’d likely known from the moment I set out how this would end. The mare sunk to her hunches and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, shutting her eyes. Gently, I reached a foreleg out to my niece and pulled her shivering body closer to me.

“I’m sorry, Tiny... your mother and father... well, they...” I stuttered, my own ears drooping at the sight of my niece and the memory of her mother. All those things that I’d pushed aside for a week, all those emotions that had flooded out in Wastefall Gorge, began returning as I tried to tell Sugar that her mother was dead. That she was never coming back. That I’d killed her to stop the pain she was in. How? How could I even tell her she was dead? Celestia... Luna... anypony...

But I didn’t need their help in the end. She knew. Tears began to roll down her pink cheeks that moments before had been pulled back in a grin. I gathered her tiny form up into my forehooves and pressed my muzzle down against her frame. Small pink hooves reached up to wrap around my nose, as she pressed her face down into it and began to cry. Tears from both our eyes dampened our fur.

The storm that had followed us across the mountains at long last broke outside the apartment's windows. A sudden hard rain began to spill from the thick grey clouds, dulling the warm glow from Hope Tower. Streams of water ran over the foggy glass windows of the room, as lightning flashed and thunder rumbled.

The broken world cried with us for the ponies lost, and hopes crushed.

Welcome to Level 15!

Perk Added: Wasteland Survivor: You’ve traveled the length of the Wasteland and seen and done some amazing things. Your ability to scrounge for ammo, food, and medical supplies have kept yourself and your companions alive. You're now 50% more likely to find items others have missed, and 20% more likely to find rare ammo.

Author's Notes:

So, here we are, at the end of Act 1 and beginning Act 2. It’s been a wild crazy ride for me thus far, after nearly ten months of working on this story, and just now reaching the quarter finished mark. I hope everyone has enjoyed this story thus far, and will stick with me as we begin the next part of Shadow’s story.

Now then, onward!

Editor and Chief: TheGamefilmGuruman

Editor: Avi

Pre- Reader: MagicLlama

Pre- Reader: Bronyken

Original Cover Art: TimeForSP

Current Cover Art: MisterMech Go. Worship his work.