I awoke to the soft crackling of a fire, the burning wood popping and snapping close by. Despite the fire crackling away close by, my body felt incredibly cold. I shuffled closer to the heat, my body scraping over a hard stone floor. There was a noise as my horn poked into something soft and warm. I reached out blindly, my hooves grabbing a warm fuzzy pillow which I pulled my head against. I snuggled my mysterious cushiony headrest, sighing in contentment. As my pillow shifted, trying to escape, I couldn’t help but cling more tightly and grunt in annoyance.

“Uhm... Inkwell?” My eyes opened, as I looked up slowly to the source of the voice. Mustang was looking down at me, an awkward expression on his face as I gripped his right hind leg. I could feel heat creep onto my face as Mustang tried and failed not to blush. I pulled back a little to note that there may have been an area of drool on him. But only a little, I swear.

“You’re horn is... jabbing into me.” He said pointedly, pushing me back a bit.

I sat up quickly, face nearly on fire. “Let us never speak of this...” I said quickly, thankful that Crosshair hadn’t seen that embarrassing display. “Ever.”

After taking a moment to try and settle my thoughts, I began rubbing my legs together for warmth and took a look at my surroundings. We were in a large warehouse of some kind, the shelves had been looted quite thoroughly, but I could still see a few sealed metallic crates, secured with thick rivets. I stood up properly, shaking out my mane and decided to investigate the crates for anything useful. I trotted up to the biggest box I could see, looking for some way to open it. Several dents and scratch marks scarred the metal container, obviously previous looters had been unsuccessful.

“Mustang, where’s my drill and power armor?!” I half-shouted at him.

“Elder, keep your voice down!” He said in alarm, trotting over to me.

“Where’s my drill? And my armor, and... all my things actually.” I asked, before adding. “And why are we not supposed to shout?”

“I loaned your equipment to Knight Crosshair of course, you were unconscious and too heavy to carry, while wearing it over a long distance. So we decided to have Crosshair wear the armor for... tactical reasons.” He mumbled the last few words, looking annoyed? Upset? I wasn’t sure yet, but I intended to ask him about it later. “We also need to keep quiet around here Elder, there are Hoofbiter nests in this part of Wintertrot, according to Crosshair.”

I didn’t like the sound of that, and glanced down at my hooves warily. “Why are they called Hoofbiters?” I asked, while making the tactical decision to climb atop the steel crate.

“Because that’s the first thing they bite, then they eat the rest of the pony.” Mustang said, clamping his teeth together for emphasis. “They’re supposed to tunnel under the snow, but Crosshair claims they can burst through concrete and mortar if it’s thin enough.” He further explained, tapping the floor lightly.

“I don’t suppose we could sleep upstairs?” I asked quickly, looking around for any stairwells or ladders promising safety.

“Unfortunately no...A lot of the rooms upstairs have collapsed or have openings, exposing them to the snow and frost outside. Crosshair is searching a few of the ground level rooms, hopefully he can scrounge up enough fabric to make a tepee.” I stared blankly at Mustang for a moment, before he quickly clarified. “Like a tent, Elder, but more pointed on the top...” He made a few hoof gestures, complicating the entire situation even more.

“Maybe we can make a start on the shelter with some of these boxes?” I suggested, hopping off the crate and trying to levitate it. The box glowed with my magic but was to heavy for me to budge.

“Perhaps we could use those boxes over there?” Mustang said, pointing to the shelves of boxes and containers. I nodded in agreement, smiling gratefully as we trotted over to the shelves. Most of the boxes were empty, but a few had stickers on them with faded addresses stamped on, with black ink. I couldn’t make out most of the words, the ink had started running off the labels long ago.

“Where are we Mustang?” I asked, opening one box that was full of sock puppets. Oddly enough, they were addressed to Stable-Tec.

“We’re in a warehouse, where letters and packages were stored before being shipped out. It wasn’t our ideal resting spot Elder, but we had been walking for four hours.” They’d been carrying me around in the cold for that long?

“So I’ve been asleep for four hours?” I asked, trying on one of the sock puppets for my amusement. It was one of the stable-colt, stable-tec’s friendly mascot.

“More like seven hours, you’ve been sleeping quite heavily Elder. You resisted our best efforts to wake you, including that ice cube Crosshair-” He stopped mid-sentence, snickering to himself. I glanced back at him, eyebrows raised.

“What did Crosshair do?” I asked suspiciously. Mustang looked ready to answer, recovering from his snickering, when a door banged open, my power armor walked in. I forgot my question immediately, hobbling forward. Crosshair saw me easily, pulling off my helmet, rubbing his forehead where my horn would stick out.

“Ah Elder, you’re awake at last. Did something sneak in and wake you, while my back was turned?” Crosshair asked, handing me my own helmet.

“There was an incident.” I said earnestly, putting on the helmet. I started checking the settings, which Crosshair had -of course- ruined in his inexperience. “What did you do to my helmet? All the settings are wrong. Why is the EFS off, did it break again?” I asked, turning it back on.

“No Elder, I merely found the dots distracting. Ugh... I can still see them, even without the helmet.” He said, rubbing his eyes. “And how do you move in such heavy armor? My muscles are burning!” He further complained. “And it’s too tight in certain areas, I had to take off the armor and-”

“Okay, okay. I understand Crosshair.” I said in my best soothing tone after taking the helmet off again. “You just need some practice, you’re probably fighting the armor, rather than working with it.” I looked at his slumped shoulders and sweat-coated face. “You need to use less effort and let the armor do the work, come on, lets find a spot for you to practice.” I said encouragingly, patting him on the shoulder pauldron.

“I would rather not Elder, this armor makes me feel-” I cut him off, remembering how my own drill instructor had reacted when I tried to worm out of practice

“Knight Crosshair, you are in the Steel Rangers now! Regardless of how uncomfortable it makes you feel, we do have to use and acquire technology!” I said, jabbing him on his armored chest. “Even things we don’t like!”

“Understood, Elder.” Crosshair sulkily.

We moved back towards the little camp fire, which had begun to burn low. Mustang fed the flames with some ruined books that burned slowly, before going through his saddlebags with the excuse of cooking some dinner. I didn’t argue, my stomach growled audibly as I started teaching Crosshair to walk in his armor, pointing out when he wasn’t using enough of too much force.

“Your right hind leg is dragging, more power in that leg.” Confession time, I was never actually taught how to use power armor. In fact, I’m wholly self taught. You see since I was a unicorn, who didn’t show combat aptitude, I got scribe training. However, I helped maintain power armor, so I knew how it worked. I was able to listen in on lessons, by taking extra long to repair air filters or on one notable occasion, actually repairing the demonstration suit of power armor. Now I brought u those lessons, slowly working through basic movement and traction exercises. I used my horn to adjust the leg armature when needed, Crosshair testing his leg each time I made a change, commenting on how it felt as we gradually got it to move easier.

“You’re getting the hang of it, now lets try trotting. You’ll find it’s easier to run now, see?” I said, watching Crosshair quickly making circles around us, his armored hooves hammering heavily, becoming notably softer as he continued to do laps and become adjusted to letting the power armor do so much of the work.

I was about to suggest Crosshair wear the helmet as well, when a warm, sweet smell filled the air. Mustang was levitating three separate cans over the fire in his green magical field. He was rotating them slowly, and my stomach groaned audibly as another waft of the delicious aroma passed me by.

“Let’s take a break, Crosshair. You must be hungry, carrying me around all day.” I joked, trotting back to the fire and sitting down, Mustang hovering a tin labelled ‘CRAM!’ over to me.

“What is cram?” I asked, perplexed by the oily pink gel that looked suspiciously like processed meat. “With a name like that I half expected this to be some sort of marital aid.” After looking at it for a moment longer I glanced worriedly at Mustang. “And I’m still not sure having even seen it.”

Sticking a sporkful into his mouth, Mustang hummed with appreciation.

“It’s Cram, Elder.” Crosshair said, turning his nose away. “Dog food.”

I recoiled from the admittedly good smelling pet food. Noticing my disgusted face, Mustang quickly expounded. “Not that kind of dog. It’s a nutritious meaty food... for diamond dogs. Lots of them lived here during the war, you know.”

Sighing, I levitated the plastic fork Mustang handed me with my tin, forcing some of the meaty substance into my mouth.

“This is pretty good.” I said, surprising myself, chowing down on the war-era meat. “We should have this more often.” Crosshair shuddered, pushing his can over to me.

“I can’t stomach that stuff.” He said, looking a little green.

“Says the zebra who was eating crackers with toothpaste.” I retorted, stealing his can of meaty goodness. Crosshair huffed, opening his saddlebag. I tried hard not to laugh when he pulled out some crackers and toothpaste.

At least this time, he used decidedly smaller portions that before.

We finished eating quickly, Crosshair taking a power nap while Mustang volunteered for guard duty. I let him take it, and spent some time examining my power armor. The minor damages it had taken were automagically fixed when it received scrap metal in the little port on the armor’s flank. I put the armor back on, noticing some hitches in the servos already. Either way, I was glad to be wearing it again.

I decided to take a quick rummage through the warehouse we were in.

The other rooms contained loading bays and further storage spaces. I made my way up an old disused stairway, my hooves crunching loudly on some old skeletons. I bent down after noticing a small glimmer in the remains, an employee tag from the looks of it. I took it with me, figuring it could be useful. I continued upstairs, entering a large office with two rows of desks. The desktops were strewn with old papers, and office supplies, leaving them in a state of disarray. I sifted through some of the closed desk drawers, adding some bottlecaps and a frozen solid sparkle-cola to my saddlebag.

I proceeded to the back of the offices were a set of double doors remained locked. I turned around and bucked the door. The wood splintering with surprising ease, I spun around, finding a dusty office. I walked in cautiously, small clouds of dust rising from the carpet as I looked around the office. The desk was neatly organised and no skeletons were littering the floor, suggesting whoever worked here had been absent when the megaspells hit. I opened the drawers of the desk, finding an ice cold bottle of wild pegasus whiskey and a small lockbox. Curious, I lifted the flat lockbox onto the desk, revealing a tiny key was necessary to open it. I slid the case into my saddlebag, along with the whiskey, not confident I could break open the box without destroying its contents.

While storing away the desk’s contents, I noticed a small button. I almost didn’t see it, and would have missed it, had a glimmer of light not caught my eye on its reflective surface. I glanced around, looking for any obvious traps, like roof mounted turrets or panels hiding security bots. Satisfied nothing was going to pop out to kill me, I reached out an armored hoof and hovered over the button. My curiosity grew as I knew I had to push the button, excitement building as I lowered my hoof down slowly and mashed it. There was a soft click and then... nothing. Just nothing.

My ears drooped in disappointment and I huffed, stalking out of the office. Who puts a pointless button on a desk anyway?

I took my mind off of the button by examining a small radio that had fallen to the floor some time ago. I gave it the customary wasteland test of functionality, i.e, shaking it up and down and seeing if it rattled. To my immense pleasure, the radio didn't jingle and jangle. I placed the old radio on a desk, fiddling with the little dials and tapping it on the side. The radio sprang to life, it’s faceplate lighting up as it began blaring static.

I turned down the volume, and scrolled through radio signals, before getting lucky and finding a functional radio station.

“Good morning friends! This is Snowflake Studio Radio Station, with your host DJ Frost Tongue. Bringing you the latest news in this icebox of a city.” The rough yet invigorating voice of the DJ announced. “Now friends, Ol’ Frost Tongue’s got some very interesting news for you all. Seems like the Lost Legion have made a tactical withdrawal from Wintertrot, though don’t count on them staying gone friends. I reckon they’re just biding their time until the Super Stallions or Snow Pirates have wiped out one another or are too weak to oppose them.” This was new and troubling information. Now I had to worry about three major factions; I made a mental note to ask my two partners about this Lost Legion.

“Currently the Super Stallions and Snow Pirates are content to fight close to the Rockbiter district and Merchant districts. Anyone in those areas should look into fortifying their homes or moving somewhere safer.” Frost Tongue paused, clearing his throat loudly, before speaking again. “Also, we’ve got reports of a pony in thick metal armor travelling with a zebra-” My ears perked at that, I grabbed the radio, turning it up as I dashed back downstairs, skidding along the floor before bursting into the store room with our base camp. Mustang looked up in alarm, lowering Hailstorm when he saw me.

“Elder, what seems to be the prob-” I cut him off, turning up the radio in my telekinetic grasp.

“So if you see this armored pony and his travelling buddies, buy them a beer for me. Now for some music...” Frost Tongue finished, a heavy beat beginning to play.

“Someone’s been watching us and reporting our actions.” I said, dropping the radio, causing it to play louder as I paced back and forth worryingly. “Probably started back in Snowridge, this Frost Tongue guy probably-” I was cut off by a low rumble, Crosshair springing to his hooves with a panicked yelp.

“What are you doing?!” Crosshair shouted, leaping on the radio and trying to turn it off, the little dial having been knocked off when I dropped it. Crosshair lifted the radio over his head and threw it to the ground where it hit with a dull thump, blaring even louder. “Oh stars, we’re dead. Quick, grab the guns!” Crosshair shouted, slinging his rifle onto his back.

Mustang, securing Hailstorm, following Crosshair as he dashed across the room. I followed, the rumbling getting even louder, a small fissure forming up one wall and the cement cracking as it went to our abandoned campsite. Mustang had the forethought to grab our supplies with his telekinesis. We crouched behind some shelves, using some boxes to hide ourselves.

The ground continued to crack as something large moved underground. I glanced at Crosshair, whispering softly. “What is that thing?”

“‘Those’, Elder... they’re hoofbiters. They’re attracted to heat and loud noises, which our camp site now has in abundance.” He whispered harshly. A kettle began whining loudly, left on the fire by Mustang. The wailing went pretty well with the warbling music, actually.

Suddenly, the floor cracked with a horrible crunching sound which was muffled by a plethora of loud screeching voices. Five long icy blue horns punched through the cement like water, moving much like a shark fins towards the camp fire. The curved horns were only the tip of the monsters, their large reptilian heads smashing through the cement floor, mouths opened wide as they lunged at the fire. They began attacking the fire, crunching the burning wood and splitting the kettle. The hoofbiters hissed angrily or squealed in pain as they were burnt, spitting out an oily blue bile in retaliation.

The radio was still blaring, despite being smashed aside by their initial frenzied assault. The tunneling terrors turned their attention to the source of the music, slithering along the floor like large snakes. They sniffed the small radio, lifting their scaly heads as their thick black tongues slipped in and out.

“I’ve seen gecko’s do this, they’re tasting the air. Looking for us.” Mustang whispered. The hoofbiters heads perked up and glanced our way, hissing loudly.

“Cocknoodles!” I shouted, firing my missile launcher. The beasts were faster, diving through the cement and avoiding the missile as they scythed towards us.

“SCATTER!” Mustang bellowed, throwing Crosshair to the left. The zebra yelped as he soared out and into the hallway leading upstairs. A hoofbiter made a beeline for me, it’s sharp horn angled so it would skewer me. I leapt in a clumsy roll, diving to the right as the bladelike horn narrowly missed impaling me. The horn stabbed into the wall behind me, the ground rumbling under my hooves as the hoofbiter let out an angry shriek and pulled itself free. I ran to the right, hopping over the cracked floor and sticking close to Mustang as we bolted through rows of looted shelves. The metal storage racks rattled behind us, being tossed aside like foals toys as the tunneling predators pursued us. I kept looking back, watching the horns cut through the ground, even bumping into one another as each hoofbiter tried to get ahead of the others.

“QUICK, THE CONVEYOR BELTS!” Confused, I looked at the black lines of conveyor belts, empty boxes littering them. Mustang jumped onto a conveyor belt with a heavy whump, the metal frame groaning under his weight. I leapt onto another one, feeling the metal and rubber crunch down, but not collapse under me.

“UP! UP! RUN UP!” Mustang shouted, running along the belt, which was rose up to the second floor. I ran up my conveyor belt, the structure swaying as hoofbiters swarmed around the supports keeping it up, I dashed up to a small opening where boxes inevitably came through, sliding into the opening. I almost made it, my armor cracking through the hole, widening it, but my saddlebags were still too wide.

“You made it! Let me help you.” Mustang stated in relief, grabbing me with his magic and pulling me through, the hole widening as the reinforced saddlebags ground against the 200 year old plaster.

“That went better than expected, usually the monster catches me and starts slamming me arou-” I joked, but was rudely cut off as my rear hooves were bitten. “They’ve got my hooves! THEY’VE GOT MY HOOVES!” I screeched, feeling myself being tugged and twisted from behind.

“Stop squirming Elder, I can’t get a clear shot at them!” Mustang said, trying to squeeze the barrel of Hailstorm through the tight opening. Stomping me flat with his forelegs, he tried to get a clear shot.

“Shit, just use my shotgun!” I half-screamed, in a totally manly way, and levitated it out. I fired behind me, but the shot went wide as the hoofbiter spun me into a roll. A loud explosion heralded the sudden widening of the conveyer entry point.

“I’ve seen radigators do that, it’s trying to twist your legs off!” Mustang said in a panicked tone. “I’ll take the shot!” He said, pulling the shotgun away from me, overwhelming my own magical grip, before pressing both hooves on my back and all his weight. The hoofbiters hissed as they tried to painfully twist my legs off in two different directions. Mustang fired, launching us farther into the room as the explosive shell detonated behind me. Painful screeches filling the air as the hoofbiter fell off the conveyor belt.

“I think you overpacked that shell Elder.” Mustang groaned beside me. I pulled myself up, wincing as I tried putting weight on my hindlegs. The hoofbiter’s teeth were still wedged into the metal, blue saliva and oddly luminescent green blood coating them. “We should be safe up here for now Elder, it’s too high for them to jump. But poor Crosshair is on the other side of the warehouse.” Mustang said, glancing down at the ground, below the conveyor belt. He turned around, noticing my injured hind legs “Oh, that looks nasty, lets get those out.” Mustang said cheerfully, pulling each tooth out carefully, and adding them to a small drawstring bag.

“Mustang why are you- yowch! Why are you collecting those teeth?” I asked, wincing as the last tooth was pulled free.

“Everything is worth something.” Mustang replied evenly. I was about to ask who would want monster teeth, when the cool sensation of Med-X and the warm tingling sensation of a healing potion flowed through me. I groaned in delight, lying there for a few minutes. “Uhm...Inkwell? Elder? You’ve been lying there for three minutes now, perhaps we should make haste and find Crosshair?” He was right of course, I couldn’t just lie there in drug-induced bliss. Reluctantly I stood up, my hind legs quivering only very slightly.

“Alright Star Paladin, lets find our first Knight.” I said, while pushing open the first door I could find. The door opened, hissing and crunching as it scraped along the ground. A thick layer of frost coating the corridor ahead of us. I walked ahead, the frost crunching softly as we entered the hallway. My helmet showed a friendly green somewhere ahead of us and several red blips squashed together around it. “You wouldn’t know how to fly, would you Mustang?” I asked, staring through the floor as we moved along.

“Sadly not Elder, those kind of spells are notoriously difficult to perform, especially more than once.” Mustang replied.

Well there went any hope of flying to safety, looks like we’d be forced to try and outrun the hoofbiters when we found Crosshair, or wait for them to leave. As we got closer to the green blip, a large banging echoing around us. We cantered towards Crosshair’s blip, finding the zebra was kicking a metal door, making small dents in the metal.

“Ah Elder, it’s good to see you both survived. Though maybe a bit of warning before you toss me like that Star Paladin?” Crosshair greeted us, still kicking the door.

“What are you doing Crosshair? I can see hoofbiters clustering beneath us, with all the noise you’re making.” I explained, glancing down at the mass of red blips below us.

“Relax Elder, they are young and unable to leap and tunnel up to us.” Those were young hoofibters? I shuddered to think what an adult would look like. “I’ve nearly got this door loose, just let me-” Crosshair was cut off by Mustang.

“Nonsense knight Crosshair, I’ll handle this. This door just needs a jolly good kick.” Mustang grinned, stepping a few paces back and charging the door. A pace from the door, he pivoted and slammed his hind hooves at it. Maybe a hairsbreadth away from impact, time slowed to an eerie crawl. Looking in slow motion at Mustang, I was greeted with a wonder to behold. Angelic light was blossoming from behind him, his hair still flowing in a wild arch from his spin. A group of singing voices echoed in the background, flowing perfectly over his muscled body like some form of divine choir.

As his hooves came to a seemingly slow rest upon the heavy metal door, a striped hoof slipped in and pushed the door open. Abruptly the light and music cut out, and Mustang collapsed to the floor in an ungainly heap.

“What? No, turn it back on!” I said before I could catch myself, earning some confused looks from Mustang and Crosshair. “Er, that is... uh...”

“Anyways,” Crosshair interjected, bringing the sudden awkward silence to an end. “I’d already taken care of it, if you had just waited.”

Behind the door, was a set of stairs, heading straight up, to another door. Mustang picked himself up, dusting his coat off and heading up the stairs. I followed suite, the air growing colder and my horn aching slightly as we got higher. Mustang bucked open the second door before Crosshair could open it letting in a blast of cold wind. Snowflakes whirling around the tight stairway. We exited the stairs, arriving on the rooftop, which was being bombarded by high winds and snow. I glanced around, searching for a fire escape or possibly a gutter we could use to climb down. Trotting over and examining a rusted ladder that lead down the side of the building

“It’s no use going back down Elder, it’s too dangerous.” He explained, scooping up some snow and rolling it into a ball.

“What do we do then? We’ll have to climb back down... Well, I’m sure we could outrun the hoofbiters...” I said, though I was dubious of my own claim.

Crosshair trotted up beside me, now pushing a massive lump of snow, which he shoved off the roof. We watched it fall for a moment, before it landed with a thick thump. It took about five seconds before hoofbiters were bursting through the ground and walls in a frenzied and hissing mass of teeth and scales.

“I, um... see what you mean, now...” I said weakly.

“We can move across the rooftops!” Mustang called out over the wailing wind. “Look here, it’s just a little hop skip to the other side.” Mustang added, cheerfully leaping to another rooftop, time almost seemed to slow as he flew through the air, before landing heavily on the other rooftop. He turned back, smiling widely. “Now then, how about you take the plunge Elder?”

We spent the next three hours hopping from roof to roof. Three. Dangerous. Hours. Every time I leapt over a rooftop or into a window, I had to worry about slipping and falling or falling short of my mark. The wind didn’t help much, sometimes whipping out in powerful gusts that nearly tipped over Mustang. During one gut-wrenching jump, Crosshair was hanging by his forehooves with two unaware Super Stallions below him. Fortunately, we pulled him up without incident, despite the gurgling hisses of their scuttler guard dog, trying to alert them.

We eventually found our way onto the roof of a deserted supermarket, where I had to hop down to a lower roof first. I then caught Crosshair and almost went through the roof when it was time to catch Mustang. Thankfully the roof held, though I quickly trotted back from the large cracks we’d made, just to be safe.

“I hope that’s the last time we need to pull off an escape like that.” Mustang said, breathing a sigh of relief as he looked over the side of the roof, the snow covered ground now closer than it had been in hours. I was equally relieved, at least if I leapt off this roof, I’d only end up under a couple of feet of snow.

“I found a way down.” Crosshair said, having dug through some snow and uncovered an access hatch.

“Good work, at least now we don’t have to leap onto rusted cars and snow.” I said cheerfully, glancing down the opened hatch, revealing an old wooden ladder. I pressed a hoof on the ladder lightly, causing it to groan a little, but seemed to be otherwise stable. I spun around and climbed down, followed shortly by my companions.

We’d arrived in a storage room, coated in frost and snow. Icicles hanging from the ceiling, making the room feel like a dangerous cave. I inspected one of the crates, cracking the lid off with my hooves to reveal cans and cans of cram.

“Guys, open your saddlebags. I need help carrying all this cram.” I exclaimed, as I began to pack away the cans of delicious meat. Crosshair visibly cringed in revulsion, while Mustang helped me pack the tasty canned food.

“I’ll go inspect the rest of this floor, you take care of those... emergency rations.” He trotted off quietly, exiting the room as a steady pile of square cans grew beside me. I was able to pack a surprising number of them into my saddlebags, stacking them in tightly one atop the other. Mustang added some cram into his own saddlebags before we inspected a few of the other crates. The other crates had been looted a long time ago, mostly the vegetable products like canned carrots. There were a few left, but at best they were in a questionable state. Still, I dropped them in as well. Waste not, want not.

Satisfied with our haul, I tracked down Crosshair using my helmet’s EFS. He was waiting downstairs, looking over some papers.

“Ah, your timing is impeccable. I think I know exactly where we are now.” I walked over to join him, peering at the checkout stall he’d laid the papers out on, revealing it to be some kind of map. “I managed to piece this map together, though it’s missing large parts of Wintertrot.” That explained why it looked so small and rough. “This can still be useful Elder, this is a bus schedule, indicating where you can get picked up. We just happen to be at one such stop.” He pointed outside the store, at a tilted bus stop sign poking valiantly out of the ground.

“Alright, so we’re on this bus route, how does that help us?” I asked, looking over the map.

“Well if you look here Elder, the bus route terminates at the mines. We just have to follow the signs and we should make it there without further hindrance.” He emphasized should, glancing out at the snowy landscape, frowning slightly.

“None shall impede us Crosshair.” Mustang said, raising a hoof gallantly. “If we find a wall, we will break it down. If anyone tries to stop us, we shall barrel through them. We shall complete our quest and vanquish our foes with righteousness!” The wind gusting into the exposed store blew through his mane and beard, heralding the gentle music and soothing lights that slowly crept up from behind him. I may have goggled at him for a bit before the window was slammed shut.

Looking over, it appeared Crosshair didn’t share our enthusiasm. Shrugging he opened his saddlebags, removing three pouches of RadAway and a brown bottle of Radsafe capsules.

“Drink up. We have quite a trek ahead of us.” Crosshair said, passing both of us a pouch. I removed my helmet to drink the medicine, dousing my horn in the radiation purging solution. Giving it a few minutes to seep in, before wiping away the excess liquid, before my eyes started stinging again. I ran a steel clad hoof over my horn for a moment. Was it sharper than before? maybe that was just my imagination. I noticed Mustang watching me, giving me a fake smile, before looking away. No doubt he was worried about my horn growth too. It had been poking him only a few hours ago, after all.

We had to wait a few hours for the snowstorm to die down to a more tolerable snowfall. Giving us plenty of time to snack on some of the pilfered cram, straight from the can, everything in the supermarket was too damp to build even a small fire and heat the cold meat up. That was fine, I kinda preferred it cold, it was more chewy that way.

The streets were eerily quiet, the wind having died down mostly. We froze every time we heard a large crash, usually cascades of snow falling due to their weight and the wind. As we marched onward, a cascade of snow fell across the street from us. My eyes lingered on where the snow had fallen from, revealing the top of the building had collapsed. I would have ignored it, had I not spied a massive hole in a taller building behind it. I glanced up at the building we were marching beside, noticing a hole bored through that building as well. Looking further down the street, I could see the ominous trail of destruction continuing in a downwards motion.

The bus route brought us along parallel to the trail. Coming to the lowest, and last holed building, I was finally able to see what had plowed through so many steadfast skyscrapers.

It was big and metallic, like the airship I had arrived in. But this was no mere airship, at the mercy of high winds. No, this was a downed cloudship, so torn and mangled it was actually pretty hard to tell what it had been. If I hadn’t seen a few blueprints, I probably wouldn’t have recognized the engineering compartments for what they were. As it was, large pieces of it were missing and huge chunk of metal had been gouged off the side of the main reactor. Several junction ports and cloud generators had been stripped open, revealing 200 year old circuitry that still gleamed faintly in the light. Rust had of course attempted to tarnish the behemoth, but for the most part, the ship was in relatively good order. You know. For having gone through what had to at least have been six or seven multiton buildings.

I paused, glancing at the cloudship wreckage and up the snowy street we were travelling along. On one hoof, I could continue to the mines where we might find some mining suits I could turn into proper power armor. And on the other hoof, there was a heavily damaged and mostly buried warship sitting right there. With a heavy sigh, I turned from the wreck. Instead of crawling through it like I wanted to, I had Crosshair pull out the map and mark down the street we were on. Hopefully, after getting some of the ghouls decked in armor, we could get a real scavenging team down here. Actually, now that I thought about it, they might even be able to fix it enough to get it at least partially operational.

And then the logistics side of me went into overdrive as I mutely followed my companions.

As it turned out, it was pretty much a straight shot to the mine. We passed by several signs, many of them old, depicting warnings. Some of the more artistic warning signs had pony skulls and crossbones on them, while others were written in plain equestrian. I ignored the colorful warnings mostly, focusing on how many mercenaries I could hire to protect a salvage team. Hiring Snow Pirates was definitely a big no-no. Perhaps Wintertrot had some talon or other mercenary groups? I’d worry about that later. We finally came upon the last bus sign, looming under the shadow of a large quarry. One noteworthy sign proclaiming: Do not antagonize the Diamond Dog workers. Throwing chew toys into the premises is a punishable offense of up to 5,000 bits and 6 months community service. Violators will be persecuted to the full extent of the law.

The quarry was protected by a thick steel fence, rusted but still firm and unyielding as I discovered, trying to kick it down. We trotted to the front gate, where a suspiciously new padlock had been attached, along with some rather strong chains.

“I don’t like this... this place feels like a trap.” Crosshair said, casting glances at nearby windows. A cloud of snow rose up on a nearby rooftop, probably just the wind.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Crosshair. Probably just those Snow Pirates trying to keep good and decent scavengers out of this place.” I said, sure in my own logic. “Crosshair, see if you can pick the lock.” I asked, Crosshair huffed, before reluctantly pulling out a bobby pin and screw driver. I spun and kept a lookout behind us Mustang joined me a moment later. We waited patiently, while Crosshair cursed in zebrican as he struggled with the lock. There was finally a click as the padlock opened. I pulled the chain off with my magic, tossing it aside. Mustang pushed open the rusted gate, followed by Crosshair and myself.

There were three noteworthy buildings in the yard outside the mines, alongside numerous rusted and long abandoned machines and vehicles. The closest structure was a large warehouse, coated in a thin layer of snow. Further into the yard was another facility with several tall smokestack chimneys. Off to the far right of this mining complex was the last notable building. It looked like some old offices, probably where they took care of the finances and other paperwork.

“We’ll try that warehouse first.” I said, pointing purposefully at the old building. “That’s probably where most of the equipment was stored.” Crosshair and Mustang both nodded in agreement, walking beside me as we made for the warehouse. The deadbolt was a lot faster than the gate’s padlock, but I still felt a bit antsy while standing there anyways. The door opened out onto the warehouse main floor where rows and rows of shelves filled the warehouse. Crates were stacked on bowing shelves, seemingly untouched in the last two centuries.

I mentally whooped, practically skipping past Mustang, until he pulled me back. “Be careful, this place could still be dangerous.”

I pulled myself out of his firm grip, but relented from prancing off into the rows of unopened goods. It would be just my luck to stumble upon any hidden traps.

“We can get a better look at this place from up there.” Crosshair said, pointing to a series of catwalks above us. We stuck close to the edge of the warehouse floor, before finding a ladder, leading up. I climbed up first, the metal frame of the catwalk lightly groaning under my weight, but thankfully showed no signs of immediately collapsing under me.

“It seems safe, come on up.” I called down, waving over the railing. My eyes stared over a row of shelves, until something seemed to move in my peripheral vision. I focused on the perceived movement but couldn’t see anything. My EFS wasn’t displaying any hostiles either, but I couldn’t help but linger on the spot for a few more moments. Still seeing no movement after a while, I eventually dismissed it as a trick of the light. Mustang chose to remain on the floor, watching as Crosshair climbed up.

“It looks abandoned…” Crosshair said slowly, pulling out his rifle and looking down the scope to scan the floor below. I walked to the left, peering at the roof for any hint of hidden turrets. I managed to make a quick lap around the warehouse, arriving back at the ladder, where Crosshair was still spying on the floor.

“See anything suspicious?” I asked.

“Nothing yet... no robot guardians or ghouls. No scavengers either... It almost feels... too safe.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at that. Of course Crosshair would say something like that. Fortunately, saner minds know that not every building has ghouls, robots and mutants waiting to kill and snack on unwary ponies.

“It seems safe enough, I couldn’t see any panels for roof turrets.” Crosshair seemed to be staring intently at one shelf, before he slowly packed away his rifle.

“Very well Inkwell, lets just find what we came for as quickly as we can.” We climbed back down to the ground floor, and stuck close together as we began inspecting the packing cases. The crates were sealed tightly, the wooden boxes had been nailed shut. While the metallic ones had large locks on them, Crosshair was delicately picking the lock on one of the metal containers. Mustang preferred a more direct approach, Mustang swung the super sledge he’d picked up yesterday to smash open one of the crates, before sticking his head inside.

I popped open a metallic chest, drilling through the lock with my hoof-mounted drill. Opening it up, I was almost blinded from the light coming inside it. I reached in a hoof and scooped up a couple of colorful stones. Gems! I mentally corrected myself. A whole crate of gems could be exceedingly valuable, the ghouls could potentially make new talismans for energy weapons. Repair runes for armor, even. Assuming they could learn or copy the enchantments used on the talismans from the war.

Of course, all good things had to come to a loud end. There was a high pitched noise sounding vaguely reminiscent of an electrical discharge, followed by a sudden explosion. I turned towards the source of the commotion, only to see a dark form go flying past into another row of shelves.

“Was that Crosshair...?” Mustang asked, pulling his head out of the box and looking around.

I slid out my shotgun from its leather holster and carefully walked over to the end of row, before peeking into the next one. I spotted a blackened, smoking figure buried under some cardboard boxes. I walked over to the smoking body pulling itself off the boxes. It was Crosshair, his fur burnt and crisp, and reeked as was to be expected. But his eyes were unmistakable, even if they were dazed and rolling. With a sigh of relief, I holstered my shotgun so I could give a helping hoof.

“What happened?” I asked, helping him stand up. He opened his mouth to cough, only for a puff of smoke to escape instead.

“The cargo…. was booby trapped...” He rasped.

Next to us Mustang tapped a similar crate suspiciously, but nothing noteworthy happening.

“Seems fine to me, perhaps the-”

We would never know what he was about to say due to an ominously demented giggle that floated across the warehouse. We all jerked as one, looking around to try and locate the originating point. I could feel the hair on the nape of my neck go on edge, pressing against the inside of armor protecting it. Next to me, Mustang’s own coat nearly doubled in size, a barely audible poof accompanying the reaction. Crosshair, on the other hoof, was already at maximum fluff from the trap, but his eyes took on a rather worrying twitch as if to put the point across.

Of course, then the giggles only redoubled, quickly becoming a moderately hysterical, and considerably predatory cackle.

“Okay... uh...” I started in a low voice. “How about we make like trees and get the fuck outta here...?”

In a breathtaking display of coordination and teamwork, we successfully moved from row to row, keeping our weapons pointed out and covering every angle we could. After what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than two minutes at tops, we had made out way to the door. Exiting at an unseemly pace, Mustang and I may have jammed ourselves in the doorway. Fortunately, careful deliberations won the day as I trampled him underhoof to make my escape. Turning back, it seemed we had worried for naught, as there was no shadowy specter looming on the other side of the exit. With a nerve shredding slam, Crosshair smashed the door shut, then reverse picked the lock until the deadbolt clicked shut.

Sitting down, we all took a moment to catch our breath in a collective sigh. I popped my helmet off to wipe the sweat from around my eyes.

“What the buck was that?” I asked, slapping some snow on my head to cool off.

“I’ve never heard such vile laughter.” Crosshair mumbled.

“It was like the laughter of a madpony, mixed with an unholy aura.” Mustang said surprisingly meekly, still coming down his poofy fur.

“Did anyone remember to grab the checklist?” I asked, remembering I’d been looking over it.

“Nope.” Crosshair and Mustang responded. I glanced back at the warehouse and then at my two companions.

“No worries. Lets just... press on to the mines? See where things go from there, I suppose...” I said, shrugging my shoulders noncommittally. We sat there for a few minutes, before reluctantly I stood up. I was still sweating heavily, despite the cold, so I kept my helmet off. I secured the helmet to the rigging of my saddlebag, using the little catch in the neckline.

Head gear secured, we made our way to the mine entrance.

The snow began to die down as we approached the mine, giving us a much clearer view of our destination. Large cranes stood idle, hanging from their gantries, hooks slowly swaying to and fro in the wind. Abandoned trucks and autowagons sat outside the entrance, rusted and coated in thick ice. The front of the mine was supported by a massive frame of girders and metal struts, many of which had ladders and scaffolding still hanging from them. Despite probably being unfinished or hopefully just under maintenance, the girders stood the test of time, supporting the massive weight of the earth and rock above it.

We moved between the frozen vehicles, making our way to the large yawning entrance. The interior of the mine was lit by a series of floodlights, some of which had failed over the years. Most of them, however, were still working, though dimmed significantly. We paused briefly, my hoof hovering in the air, before I took my first nervous step into the mines.

Footnote

Inkwell: Level 5
Perk Added: Lead by Example - For every follower you have, you and your party members gain certain bonuses to SPECIAL stats.

Crosshair: Level 5
Perk Added: Power Armor Training - You are now able to equip and use power armor.

Mustang: Level 5
Perk Added: Angelic Dialogue - During certain conversations, your actions and demeanor become almost irresistible. You inspire others and gain +3 Charisma during these conversations, assuming nothing interrupts you.

Author's Notes:

Author’s Note: Oh god, the number of times I had to scrap things for this chapter >_<. I swear I deleted more for this chapter than I have for ones in the past. Well it certainly felt like it anyway. I wanted to get this chapter out a lot sooner, but I kept hitting writer’s block and when I did write it wasn’t my A game. Thankfully my editor showed up in the nick of time. He’s like some kind of superhero. (*I totally am.)

Gryphster Editor’s Note: Man, you guys just do not even KNOW the things we get up to writing this story... Like, fuck... you don’t even know. Anyone out there wondering how we do this (editors in general), all I can say is put in some music you can get into the right mood with and just put your nose to the grinder. Kind of like what I do with Tonto. @ v@