Author's Notes:

I've turned my unfinished story into a one shot. Enjoy!

Raiders are interesting folk. The’re usually forced into the life by circumstances beyond their control; be it poverty, survival, desperation, slavery, madness, drug use, or just being a second generation raider. And because of what they are, and what they do, they are often killed on site by merchants, travelers, and pretty much anything that ain't them. Like radroachs that wander too close. It's another, more subtle, horror of the Equestrian Wasteland. But if you sit and observe a group of raiders for a few days you begin to understand that they are ponies, just like us. They laugh, they cry, they mourn, they cheer, they play, they fuck, and they love. They are ponies just trying to survive out in the wastes, the only difference being that the only thing they look forward to is the suffering of others. Raiders even have some level of compassion and empathy, even if it's just for each other. At least that's what I have seen. And I have seen quite a bit observing from afar, through a high powered scope, attached to an even higher powered rifle. Like this little family of raiders I have been keeping an eye on for the past couple of days. Just six ponies waking up to fix breakfast and start the day.

At some point I always give my targets names; it helps pass the time and makes it easier for me to mentally keep track of them all. Small Fry is their leader, a petite little unicorn mare with a green coat that carries around a surprisingly well taken care of pump shotgun. Quick to anger, and a clever little bitch, she’s not afraid to fight of contenders for her position. Sledg, an unremarkable brown earth pony buck that’s handy with a sledgehammer, and not much else. Not much to say about him aside the fact he’s big and likes to laugh a lot. Cowboy, a black coated unicorn buck that carries around twin revolvers holstered to his sides; .38s I think, but it's hard to tell at this distance. He seems to be the quiet type and about the closest thing they have to a medic. Top and Bottom, a pair of dirty white unicorns bucks that I have seen more than once sneak off for a little alone time. Top has a red mane and is armed with a bolt rifle that looks like it has seen better days. The yellow maned Bottom carries around the butt stock of a similar rifle to Top’s, but uses it as a club, must hold some sort of sentimental value the way he cares for it. And finally there's Hole, a blue earth pony mare that spends a majority of her time being used as a hole, or eating one out, hence the name. She enjoyed it well enough from what I have seen, gets downright enthusiastic about it sometimes. She killed a seventh member of their troop with a wicked little knife strapped to her foreleg not long after I started watching them, he was a buck who wanted more then she was giving at that particular moment. One big happy family living under the roof of your friendly neighborhood post-apocalyptic Donut Joe's.

Fortunately for the wasteland, and most who inhabit it, this is a family I am going to break up. They have been raiding up and down this stretch of highway between Manehatten and Fillydelphia for a few weeks now, attacking two caravans before I came out here looking for them. I worked my way up to the top floors of this hospital to get a good view of the area. I spotted them about two miles away attacking a third caravan; too far away from me to do anything about, but close enough so that I could see the rape, murder and all the other reasons I needed to put them down. They didn't take any prisoners; they just dragged the bodies into a nearby building to rot after they were done with them. I watched them make their way back to camp, that was conveniently just within range of my cozy little hospital room. I stuck around for a couple of days to see if they they had any connections with the larger groups of gangs in the area or had any other friends running around the wastes. But they look to be all alone and accounted for.

I got my rifle ready; a fifty caliber anti-machine rifle with a marksman trigger and stock. The stock was designed fit into a pony’s shoulder while he, or she, lay prone. The trigger was a bit connected to the receiver of the rifle by a cable, so when the shooter pulled the trigger, the movement of their head wouldn't move the rifle and affect the shot. I place the bit in my mouth and lean forward into in the butt of the rifle, the bi-pod kept it from sliding forward. I pull back on the bolt making sure one of the massive rounds was chambered, and push it back in when I see the glint of brass. One in the chamber, and four more in the magazine. Looking through the scope the donut shop just about fills my field of view, even with the optic at full zoom. The ponies around the campfire out front look barely larger than a single tick on my retical. Hole's the first target, with any luck I would get her square in the temple and on through to the leg of Sledge, whom she was fellating. I line up the shot, range and windage already dialed into the scope, and a click to the left because the breeze picked up a little in the past few minutes. I hold my breath and steady the rifle for the shot. I was ready to pull the trigger when a green flash caught my eye.

I look over my scope to see what had caught the attention of my peripheral vision. It was a green bolt of plasma speeding across the sky. I quickly trace it back to a trio of fliers. Repeated shots of red lasers come from two of the fliers, aimed at a third. I turn my rifle towards the three, zooming the scope out a bit to better follow the action, the raiders could wait. They are pegasi, two in standard black Enclave armor, the other in an armor of similar design, but all white. The pegasus in white dives down to avoid the volley of lasers coming from the other two. The white one flattens out its flight path after putting enough distance between it and its two black pursuers. White, in one swift, graceful, motion folded in its wings, tumbled forward to face the black pair, and fires a pair of bright green bolts of plasma at the closer of the two. The bolts hit their target square in the chest, blowing bloody bits of flesh and armor into the sky before melting what was left of the pegasus into green goo. The remaining black armored pegasus veers off to avoid bits and pieces of its partner, then dives down to meet its white armored opponent with a storm of red laser fire. It’s a heck of a show to watch the two fight. For a full minute the two danced around each other, a steady stream of fire coming from the one in black, and the occasional green blast from the white. The deadly dance came to an end when the two charged each other. Black got a few good hits in, striking White in the shoulder and back, just before White obliterated its target in another flash of green. After that the white pegasus fell into a barely controlled free fall; one of its wings must have be injured in the last volley.

I wasn't the only one to notice the fight. I zoom out the scope father trying to keep an eye on the diner and the pegasus at the same time. I didn't have to zoom out very far. The raiders sat around the campfire, watching the show, chowing down on breakfast. White didn't land very far from the camp, a about a hundred yards by my guess. Small Fry made a gesture to Top and Bottom; they got up, gathered their weapons, and started trotting over to the crashed pegasus.

I turned on the broadcaster on my Pipbuck, setting it to broadcast on all frequencies. I hope White has a radio.

"White Dashite, White Dashite please respond." I said into my Pipbuck’s broadcaster around the bit in my mouth and waited for a response.

"I'm not a Dashite damnit, who is this?" Yells a pained female voice over the radio a few moments later. The Pipbuck automatically switching to her frequency.

"A wastelander with your best interests in mind. You landed near a raider nest and got two on their way to your location. Can you walk?" I quickly say as I watch the two raiders approach. They didn't see her yet, a skywagon she landed behind blocked their line of sight. I aimed for Top, as he’s the biggest threat to the downed mare at the moment.

"Shit! I can walk, but I’m grounded." She gets up, one of her wings limp at her side, and looks in the direction of the raiders through the skywagon; her armor probably has an Eyes Forward Sparkle. "How are they armed?"

"One has a club, the other a rifle."

"Copy." She readies herself into an aggressive stance watching the ticks on her E.F.S. Top said something to Bottom and the two split up, slowly going around the the skywagon.

"Take the one coming around the west side of the wagon, I got the other." Top comes around the front side of the wagon, his rifle up and ready to shoot whatever’s on the other side. I don’t give him the chance. I fire. A wave of warm gas and deafening sound fills the little hospital room I’m hiding in. I feel the concussion wave along my muzzle and in my chest as it pushes against the lower pressures in my body; if I wasn't wearing hearing protection I would likely be bleeding out of my ears. The rifle slammed into my shoulder from the recoil, more than likely leaving a nasty bruise, it always does. I keep my eye to the scope watching the bullet, or rather its wake, through the air as it speeds to its target. A second later it slammed into the unicorn, hitting him right behind his shoulder, sending bone and gore blasting out the other side. His magic dies out and he drops dead where he stood. Bottom disappeared in a blast of green energy almost at the same time as his lover. White turns around quickly as she could after firing off her shot ready to engage her other attacker, not trusting the mysterious voice over the radio to come through. Smart. She pauses, surprised when she sees Top's body, then suddenly looking around a second later after she hears the delayed report of the shot.

"The fuck..." Was all she said in confusion.

"Sorry, fifties tend to make a bit of a mess." I say as I work the action of my rifle slowly, picking out the spent brass to put it in my saddle bag, and load a fresh round into the chamber.

"How many are left?" She asks.

I look back over the camp. The remaining raiders were staring expectantly in the direction their two comrades went; possibly troubled by the distant gunshot. I doubt they heard White's plasma rifles. "Got four left, but there are still in their camp. Sit tight, I'll pick them off and warn you of any that come your way."

"Copy"

Small Fry gets up and starts barking orders to the other members of her band, guess she figures the two bit off more than they could chew. She's right. They got up and started gathering weapons. Cowboy checks his revolvers; he should have been more concerned with finding cover. The bullet hits him in the gut, spraying the ground behind him with blood. Hole and Small Fry find cover in the diner. Sledge drops his hammer and tries to drag the black unicorn to safety as he bleeds out. Sledge is strong and had no trouble moving his friend toward the diner at a steady pace. I only have to lead his movement a little bit. The round hit him square in the chest, he collapses on top of Cowboy. Muzzle flashes start blasting from one of the dinner windows, Small Fry's pissed. I guess she figured out what direction the my fire was coming from, but at this range she would be lucky to hit the building I was in, much less me. She hid behind the wall of the diner, shotgun hovering over her head firing blindly out a window; that's a mistake. I hit wall right below where her shotgun's floating, gore sprays into the dining room as the bullet passes through the wood, plaster and the mare that lay on the other side of it.

I saw movement at the edge of my scope, I pan over to find Small Fry galloping as fast as her short legs could take her trying to reach a cluster of homes a few hundred yards away, hoping to find better cover. I guess she used Hole as a distraction; clever girl. I work the action as fast as I could and line up the next shot on pure guess work and fire, hoping to hit the little bitch. I smile a little as it looks like my guess work paid off, the bullet and it's contrail follows on the right path. A moment later the mare tumbles to the ground, flank over hooves, her rear leg flying off in another direction. I pull back the bolt and remove the empty magazine from the rifle, replacing it with another one with five fresh rounds.

I look back through the scope at Small Fry, she was leaving a blood trail behind her as she scrambles to the cover of the homes using her magic to stop herself from bleeding out. I shoot her again, center mass. She's dead. I turn my scope back over to Cowboy, he is where Sledge left him, unable to move due to the the big buck's corpse laying on top of him. He too got a bullet to the chest. I couldn't see Hole, she was probably still behind cover in the diner; if there was any kindness in the universe she would bleed out quick.

"Ok White, raiders are taken care of." I said as I turned my attention back to the skywagon and the white armored mare sitting next to it. I line up another shot.

"White? I have a name you know." She says, her voice sounds stressed. From the looks of it she was bandaging herself up.

"Is that a fact?" I say.

"It's Cloud Swimmer. What's yours wastelander?"

"Long Shot."

"So, what happens now?" She asked, the last word was more of a grunt through clenched teeth as she presses a bandage into a hole in her shoulder.

"You sit tight while I work my way over there, we scavenge the camp, and head off to town for warm beds and cool drinks. How does that sound?"

“Sounds too good. You’re going to help me, just like that?” She asked skeptically.

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for a mare with a husky voice.”

She sighs. “Am I safe down here for the moment?”

I start disassembling my rifle, being careful of the hot barrel. “For the most part, not much in the way of traffic around here aside from merchants and very occasional raider. You got EFS right? Just keep an eye on it. The worst you’ll likely see if a couple of radroaches.”

“What the fuck is a radroach?”

Packing up the rifle , spent casings and the few bits of trash I’ve made in the in the past few days I trot into the hallway working my way to the stairwell. “Big bug, hard to kill. They tend not to stay squashed when you step on them.”

“Oh, so you mean like a cockroach?”

I stay silent for a few moments while I disarm a trip wire I placed on the entrance to the eighth floor, the only clear stairwell to the floor I was on. “I think so, but they have gotten a bit bigger since the bombs fell I think.” I drop down into a hole in the floor and stepped onto a filing cabinet I placed there to help me climb up this damn thing. I'm careful to avoid a piece of rebar that nearly skewered my bits on the climb up. “Where did you learn what a cockroach is? You got them skittering around on the clouds up there?”

She didn’t answer right away, it gave me time to navigate my way down two more floors though collapsed debris and a broken window.

“I rather not talk about it.” Her voice sounds sad though my ear bloom.

“The bugs or the clouds?”

“The clouds.”

“Why’s that?”

“I can’t go back.”

I’m a bit started by that. Almost enough to make me slip on the I-beam I was walking across, but I catch myself. “Have something to do with those two you were fighting with?”

She chuckles. “Actually no. It has more to do with my plot being on the ground. Quarantine rules. Any flyer that makes extended contact with the ground below the floor, sorry the cloud layer, is either exiled and left to die or is hunted down. And we don’t go for exile much these days.”

“I’m guessing a bit of soap and water is not going to get you back.”

Cloud sighs. “If only it were that easy. Once it’s been determined I’m MIA they will try and locate me using my Pipbuck tag. And if a pegasus is found to be in the dirt they will send Hunters to take them out. A scavenger team is then dispatched to collect anything valuable off the bodies.”

I move down another stairwell, mostly clear save for a vending machine that fell from a floor above; tricky to get around, but more annoying than anything else.

"So how long before they find you?" I ask. I'm not going to be happy about contending with Enclave. I tend not to trust anypony that move faster than I can shoot.

"They won't. I've tinkered with the tag in my armor, turned it off. They won't waste their time actually looking for me if they can't see the tag." I could almost hear the smug grin on her face.

"Good." I stumble over a gurney and damn near fall into an open elevator shaft. I don't need to get down from here quite that quickly. A thought started to form in my head, something I'm a mite curious about. "Cloud, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Why were you so pissed off I called you a Dashite?"

There was silence over the radio for a few minutes before I got a response. "Remember the Hunters I was telling you about? I’m one of them."

"And a Hunter doesn't want to become hunted I take it."

"Something like that."

We kept on like that for about an hour. Just talking, keeping her company as I climbed my way down the last few floors of the hospital and trecked across the old town's ruins. She didn't say much more about her life above the clouds, but she asked me quite a bit about life down here. About things she seen on her hunting trips below the clouds.

Before long I was walking up the the overturned skywagon looking forward meeting the mare I rescued. I stepped around Top's body, curious as to why she hadn't shown up on EFS yet, and looked past him to the vacant spot where Cloud was bandaging herself up. It was then that I heard the sound of capacitors charging up.

“Turn around. Slowly.” She commanded.

I did, having no intention on giving this mare any reason to shoot me. Honestly I’m not mad at her, I would do the same in her position. And meetings in the wasteland were often done with one party under the gun anyway. Doesn't mean I have to like it.

“Good to finally meet you face to face Miss Cloud Swimmer.” I say without expressing any of my concerns about her turning me into a puddle of green goo.

“You are...not what I expected.” She said in apprehensive tone.

Midnight blue coat, royal purple mane, sky blue eyes, and about as skinny as stallions come; I’m not the most intimidating buck in Equestria. Doesn't help my clothing is more patches than cloth, or that my hat is about one good rainstorm away from falling apart around my ears. My saddlebags are a sewn together amalgamation of leather and canvas held together with more hope than thread. Add to the image the comically large rifle barrel on my left side that looked like it was threatening to topple me over at any moment and I was a sad sight indeed.

Cloud Swimmer on the other hoof was about as intimidating as mares come. Tall, strong lean muscle, the Enclave armor with those wicked looking plasma rifles and that deadly scorpion tail would have had me peeing myself if I was on her bad side. The dirty white coloring of the armor did take a fraction of point off her intimidating presence, but it really is hard to beat black. Under her armor she looks to have a light gray coat, her mane hidden underneath the helmet and her eyes behind dark amber lenses.

“Well, you fallin’ out of the sky wasn't exactly what I thought was going to happen today, but here you are.” I say, giving her a friendly smirk. “Speaking of fallin’, how you holdin’ up?”

It’s hard to read her expression behind the helmet, but I imagine it’s one of intense scrutiny. “I'll endure.” Is all she said. The words came out stiff and flat. So, she's probably in a great deal of pain, which means she’s also in a bad way. I’ll leave it for now, my more immediate concern is getting her not to kill me.

“Right. So are you um...planning to shoot me?” I gesture with one of my forehooves at her guns. She starts to shake then collapses onto her belly. Guess we’re not leaving that wound for later. I walk up to the prostate pegasis slowly.

“I’m fine, just get away!” Shes tries to push herself up, almost succeeds too, but then fall back onto the dirt with a cry.

I put drop my saddle bags next to her and move to where I can look her in the eye. “Cloud Swimmer you’re hurt, bad enough to where you can’t stand. You can either be stubborn and pretend like it ain't nothin. In which case I’m going to leave your stubborn ass right here to stubbornly die.” I couldn’t see past past the helmet to gauge her reaction, but the clenching of her jaw told me she might not like that idea. “Or let me have a look at you and see if my first-aid skills are up to snuff.”

“Are you a trained medic?” She asks through clenched teeth.

“I’ve gotten enough practice over the years. Enough to know that septicemia sucks and I try to prevent it where I can.”

“Septicemia?”

“Blood infection.” I move up to her. “Now how do we get this armor off you?”

She reaches the side of her head with her good arm and knocks the helmet off her head. Untrusting yellow eyes behind a short mane the color of thunder clouds. “You are going to have to pull the back plate off, I released the lock already, just pull.”

I move up behind her and pull off the plate between her wings to reveal her upper back and withers. The pegasus screams as the plate takes some of the wound’s dressing and scabbing with it. The wound was fairly deep, cauterized flesh cracked and bleeding, blood and pus seeping out slowly. It probably went deep enough to to tear up the complex layers of tendons and muscles. The only thing likely keeping her wing folded against her side was the armor.

“How’s it looks?” she asks me in between rapid breaths.

“Not great, magic weapons tend to be nasty.” I say grimly as I rummage around my saddle bags. "Good thing I came prepared for just such an occasion." I tell her as I pull out two bottles of water and a small wax paper packet that contained a fine yellow powder.

"Unless you are moonlighting as a surgeon, there is not much to be done."

"While you got all the tech and civilization above the clouds, we have our own ways down here." I unfold the packet and pour the contents into one of the water bottles, giving it a few good shakes to make sure it's good and mixed. "I got a potion here from a very nice gal over in Manehatten; and what it does is it's going eat away at all that dead flesh in the wound. I pour a healing potion down your gullet, and you will be good as new."

"That sounds too easy." She groans.

"Well, I can tell you from personal experience this is going to hurt like a mother fucker." I pull out a knife from a sheath beneath my rags and offer her the handle. "Chew on this, it'll help."

She grips the knife in her mouth.

"Ready?"

"Y..." Her screams are muffled coming out around the knife handle as I pour the contents slowly over the wound. It bubbles and foams and smells like ammonia. Scabs and dead flesh melt away where ever the liquid touches. She cries and shakes and moans and screams. It feels like somepony poured kerosene into your wound and lit it on fire. I let it set for a good thirty seconds before I wash the cavity out with the the clean bottle of water revealing shiny pink flesh, bright red blood and ivory tendons.

She's breathes heavily as the tide of pain recedes. "I'm going to tear out your fuc..." She screams at me before I cut her off by shoving a healing potion into her muzzle I retrieved from my pack while the damn yellow shit was at work. She drank from the bottle greedily, letting it unceremoniously fall from her muzzle when its contents were drained. The wound stitched itself back together and angry pink patch of skin was all that was left to show that there was even a wound.

"Feeling better?" I ask.

She just lies there and gives me a look, it's half gratitude and half 'If you ever do that again I'll cut out your spleen and make you fucking eat it'.

I left Cloud a small pistol to signal with as I let her rest and went to loot the camp. The raiders had all expired by the time I got to there, from the looks of it Hole lasted the longest with the hoof sized hole through her back and larger hole out her stomach; she managed to crawl into a bathroom and died trying to dress her massive wound. What a mess.

There wasn't much of value there save for some ammunition, some chems, and Small Fry’s shotgun; but I took it all, good for trade. I hung Small Fry's body from the front of the diner with a sign around her neck that read “RAIDERS.” Morbid, but it did send a message.

I trotted back to where I left the pegasus. She laid there, passed out from this morning ordeal. I nudge her with a hoof and she groggily get up.

“Come on, get up.” I say to her, knowing that it’s likely the last thing she wants to do right now. “We’re goin’ to make camp in the hospital, you can rest as long as you need to once were there.”

“Help me get my armor back on.” I nod and gently push the back plate back into place and carefully placed her helmet back onto her head. “Thanks.” She says to me half heartedly.

“Take it easy for a while, we ain’t in any rush.” I say say to her as she slowly, but steadily trots towards the looming building.

“That’s good. Because this might take a while.” Cloud give me a weak smile.

It was a slow and silent trudge back to the hospital. I set up a little camp in the middle of the main lobby, Cloud would be too weak to make the climb upstairs and the high ceilings would allow me to make a fire in here without attracting too much outside attention. I helped her out of her armor once I laid out a bed roll. Aside from the energy impact on her back the pegasus was relatively uninjured, a few bruises here and there. I saw her cutie mark, some sort of arcano tech circuitry. She slept for the rest of the afternoon and through the night. I busied myself with making camp and cooking myself dinner. just doing what I normally did, except much quieter. It was mid morning the next day before she stirred.

“Mornin’” I say her before I set an open can of warmed baked beans in front of her. It takes her a second to realize what’s in front of her before she greedily grabbed the can and poured the mouthful by mouthful into her maw. Damnest thing about healing potions is that you ravanis after drinking one, after about twelve hours, however long before that when she had her last meal, and that stunt flying she was doing I’d imagine that she’d be bit peckish.

“This is really good!” She said, her face lit up like a foal’s on Hearth's Warming Eve. She searches her armor and pulls out a spoon to scrape out every last bean from the can. Then she sticks her muzzle in and starts licking the inside of the it. I watch with amusement having never seen anypony so enthusiastically attack a can of beans before.

“Should I give you two some space?”

She pauses and give me a confused look. “What do you mean?” She give the can a few more licks.

“It looks like you are about to make love to them beans.”

“If all the food down here is that good then this might turn into an orgy.” She grins and goes back to cleaning the inside of the can. It was now my turn to give her an odd look.

“It’s just plain beans, ain't nothing special.” Heck, it wasn't even one of the spicy or sweet varieties that I like.

“It’s a lot better than what I eat…” She paused for moment and her eyes darted to the side. “What I used to eat on a daily basis.” She looked at the can and smiled. “I can now understand why some of us wanted to make a life in the dirt.” She looks around, searching for something. “How do you clean these?” She asks holding up the can.

“Just throw it out, wastes water cleaning them and they rattle too much when empty.” I guess pegasi really have to get used to reusing everything. How much scrap could clouds hold anyway?

She looked shocked. “You just throw containers away?”

“No lack of them down here, we just lack things to fill them with.”

“Oh” She sets the can down gently.

“How’s your back?”

She she extends her wings and give a slight wince in pain when they were nearly extended. “I wont be flying for a while.” Her tone expressing a great deal of disappointment.

I start packing up camp. “Well you can travel with me for a spell if you want. If we’re lucky we’ll come across a merchant to get you something to cover up that armor of yours before we hit a town.” Honestly I wouldn't mind the company, gets awfully lonely out here. Plus I don’t have to worry about her in a fight. “And after your back on your wings you could head on your merry way.”

“Yea.” She says to me without hardly any enthusiasm as she dons her armor with slow practiced movements. She grabs her helmet and looks at it. “Long, is it a good life?”

Her question takes me off guard. “What do you mean?”

“Living down here in the wasteland, is it a good life.”

I take a second to ponder her question before I answer. “Some nights you go to sleep hungry, some nights you can’t get to sleep because of the things you've done and the things you've seen. But there are some nights where you sleep well because you did the right thing that day; and those are the days you live for. I can’t say for sure if it’s a good life, but it beats the heck out of some the ones I've seen.”

“Living to do the right thing.” She smirked and gave a slight shake of her head. “That’s going to be a heck of a change.” Cloud put on her helmet, those yellow bug eyes staring at me. “Where do we begin?”