“Moral standards? It sure as hell ain't here!”

The trip back to New Reino was thankfully uneventful. Which wasn't to say that it didn't feel like it hadn't taken forever. If Windfall noticed that the unicorn and I weren't sharing even a word of idle chatter, she didn't comment on it. Even the pegasus and I didn't talk much. Foxglove and Windfall carried the entirety of the conversations on our return trip. I satisfied myself with hanging back to play the part of rear guard. Though, my gaze was directed not in the direction that we had come, but rather pointedly at the violet mare's hindquarters; with an occasional stare at the teal tail swishing behind the flier. At night, I played out a myriad of scenarios to put Foxglove through when we finally reached New Reino.

That wasn't to say that the fun got to start the moment we arrived at the city. It was late morning when the three of us finally trudged in through the gates; and even though I could have very convincingly played the 'let's just take a quick nap' card in order to collect on my blackmail from Foxglove; there was something nagging at the back of my head about the last contract that I needed to address before I'd be able to truly enjoy myself without feeling distracted. Somepony had spent a lot of caps on making sure that Homily and her team got to that tower in one piece; and nopony was rich enough in this valley to just be that altruistic.

There was an angle here, and I didn't see it yet.

I fished a pouch of caps out of my saddlebags and tossed them to the flier. Windfall deftly caught the tiny sac on an outstretched wing, “get us a couple of rooms, and some decent grub; I'll go collect on the contract.”

“Are we bunking at Bonny's again?” Windfall asked.

I quirked up the corner of my mouth in a wry smile, “fuck that shit hole,” I snorted, “with the payday we just scored? The Flash in the Pan Casino. High-roller suites. In fact,” I ducked my head back into my bag and tossed out another sum of caps, “have some fun at the tables until I get back, and make sure they stock the rooms with plenty of whiskey.”

Windall's jaw went slack as she judged the weight of the pouches that I'd tossed to her. There was somewhere in the realm of seven hundred caps in there. Enough for a deposit on the rooms and a decent meal. The two of them should even have enough to play a few table games depending on how quickly they lost everything. It would certainly keep her out of my mane until I was done with my little sleuthing expedition.

For her own part, Foxglove didn't comment. She did keep a rather distrustful glare pointed in my direction that Windfall couldn't see. Soon, my dear, very soon. But there are some things that are more important than a piece of cheap unicorn flank, no matter how much I'll enjoy wrecking the mare than owns it. Bits and leverage happen to be among those those things, and I intended to extort some of both in the next hour.

The first step was to track down the contact that we'd gotten the job from in the first place. An unassuming stallion that kept a reserved booth in a casino bar. It had been the casino that Tommyknocker had owned before he'd met his rather gruesome end. I didn't know who owned it now, but it was still up and running, so somepony had obviously stepped in. All I needed to do to make contact and collect on the owed caps was show up, sit in the booth, and deliver Homily's little code.

Being the stallion on a mission that I was, I didn't even waste a moment of passing pleasantries with the earth pony hostess that greeted me at the entrance to the bar. The only sign that I offered that I was even aware of her presence was a quick glance back in her direction in an effort to glimpse up her cocktail dress. Eh, nothing special. My mind was once more focused on the task at hoof, and I made a bee-line for the designated booth. The contact was sitting there, sipping something from a tall glass.

I sat down and stared at the pony. A well dressed unicorn stallion wearing a pin-striped suit and a tie. His eggshell coat was well groomed, and his golden mane glistened with styling gel. A very presentable pony, and the perfect face of a high-profile enterprise. That wasn't to say that I knew what party he represented. I didn't for a moment consider that he was the pony in charge, of course. Ponies that made decisions didn't have the time to sit at the same booth in a bar all day.

By contrast, I looked nothing like him. Weeks spent out in the deepest parts of the Wasteland had left my mane matted and dry. My coat was marked by scars and stains of blood and grim that a casual shower or two at McMaren had only been able to scratch the surface of. Perhaps tonight, a good first frolic with Foxglove would be best served in a long, warm, bath where she could do some real good by working on my coat. Those thoughts were for later though. For now, it was time for the grimy pony wearing tattered dirty barding to talk as an equal with the unicorn wearing a laundered and pressed suit.

“You're...Jackboot, right?” the unicorn began, as though he had been forced to swallow something vile by deigning to talk with me. A smile tugged at my cheeks.

“Job's done. Homily says that she'll be expecting her collection of Sweetie Belle records on the next convoy out,” I saw the recognition on the other stallion's face as I delivered the code phrase, “personally, I think that bitch is a hack. Give me the Ink Plots any day.

“Don't get me wrong, she looks all sorts of tasty in her pictures,” I continued, waving my hoof in the air idly, “but if she squeals like she sings, I'd need to face fuck her in order to finish.”

I took pleasure in seeing the unicorn stallion's face scrunch up in revulsion at my lewd remarks. Such a proper little pony, wasn't he? Hard to believe that this buck had grown up in the Wasteland, with sensibilities like that. Though, I guess the sort of life that he had lead was a far cry from what mine had been, “quite,” he cleared his throat, “where would you like your payment delivered?”

“Into my hoof,” I extended the mentioned appendage across the table, “by the pony that set all this up.”

“That is not how my client does things,” the eggshell unicorn insisted, narrowing his violet eyes. I noticed his horn start to glow with a matching amethyst hue, and a glimpse of motion from the far side of the bar drew my attention to a pair of ponies that were paying the two of us a lot of attention. Muscle, in case things went poorly with a contractor.

“It's how he's going to do things with me,” I responded, as though the two other ponies didn't concern me. They weren't likely to create that much of a scene in a place like this as long as I didn't do anything that was overtly threatening. This should be mostly about intimidation. Not that I wasn't a little intimidated. They had be backed into a literal corner, and I didn't want an all-out fight either. Killing these ponies wouldn't get me what I was really after, “unless he wants me undoing everything I just did. Homily and her friends trust me now, after all. If I dropped by for a 'friendly little visit', they'd never see it coming when I butchered them all in their sleep.”

That got the unicorn's attention. I thought it might, “imagine how upset your boss'll be when he finds out a friendly little chat was all it would take to keep that from happening.”

The suited stallion held up his hoof, and the two other ponies that had been slowly making their way towards us drew up short and returned to their seats at the bar. Those purple eyes glared hard into mine for a long, silent, moment. Then, “very well. A meeting can be arranged. Come back-”

“If I head out that door, and it's not on my way to speak with your boss, it'll be back to McMaren to put a bullet in everypony's head and blow that radio tower to tatarus,” I finished for him, driving the stallion to stunned silence, “either bring him here, or bring me to him. Don't take too long though, or I might get bored and take a walk out into the Wasteland.”

“You're playing a dangerous game,” the unicorn began, doing a passable job of sounding menacing. It might even have been enough to make most ponies in this city think twice. The trouble was that this pony had severely misjudged his audience.

I straight up laughed at the pony, “oh, please! I just got back from clearing out a fortified raider den and a base that was crawling with hundreds of fucking demons the likes of which you can't even imagine. And you're going to threaten me with, what? Them?” I snorted and rolled my eyes, “they wouldn't last a minute in the sorts of places that I make my living in.

“I killed my first pony when I was five,” I grinned at the stallion, who was now looking a good deal less sure of himself, “I can kill everypony in this bar in under five minutes,” I leaned in nice and close to the unicorn's face now, pleased to see him recoil, visibly shaken, “and you'll be the first to go.

“And all you have to do to avert all that bloodshed,” I leaned back in the booth, his drink in my hoof, “is arrange one tiny little meeting,” I took an appraising sip of the drink. Not great, but it had alcohol in it, “your life is worth one meeting with your boss, right?” I finished the rest of the drink and tossed the empty glass back at the unicorn.

A purple glow caught the arcing vessel, and it slowly floated down to the table. The eggshell stallion swallowed and nodded, “I'll see if he's free.”

“Fantastic!” I grinned at the unicorn, shifting to make myself comfortable in the booth, “while you do that, how about ordering some grub? It was a long trip. Oh, and a bottle of Wild Pegasus too.”

The eggshell unicorn slipped out of the booth and exchanged some words with his two companions that I didn't hear. The gist of whatever he'd said must have had something to do with my demands though, as a cute little waitress dropped by with a bottle of whiskey and a plate of grilled bloat sprite bits. The stallion with the nice suit was gone, but the other two ponies remained at the bar, keeping a cautious eye on me while I enjoyed the free meal. If these ponies were going to be this easy to push around, maybe I could give Foxglove a pass for tonight and just have them find a discrete whore for me to play around with.

Or, I mused with a smile, I could have some fun with the whore, and then go put Foxglove through her paces too. Nothing in our deal had precluded bringing in a second mare into our evening antics. The images such an adventure conjured brought a grin to my face as I finished off the last of my food. The bottle I only drained down about half way before stuffing it into my saddlebag for later. I wouldn't have drunk so much of it if it hadn't been so watered down, not with a meeting coming up where I was trying to fish out an advantageous deal. Ponies in this town were just such cheats when it came to their liquor.

“The boss'll see you now,” the eggshell unicorn announced upon his return.

I ran an appraising eye up and down the stallion for a few seconds before responding. He'd been gone less than five minutes. Wherever we were going, it must have been close. Or a trap. Probably a trap around back. Such a shame. Eggshell here could have lead a long and mildly luxurious life. Oh well, “lead on,” I swung out of the booth and motioned for the pony to precede me. Idly, my hoof brushed up against the holster for Full Stop and undid the strap that held the revolver secure.

My curiosity piqued however, when he did not take me outside, or bring either of his goons along. Oddly enough, we headed for the casino's main staircase, and went up two floors. His boss had a room in this place? No, that wasn't right either. We weren't going anywhere near the guest rooms; we were heading for the staff area. The pony that had bankrolled Homily and her crew worked here? That...seemed odd, to say the least. What sense did it make for a pony working in a gambling establishment to spend tens of thousands of caps on setting up a radio tower out in the middle of the Neighvada valley?

I didn't see any way for a pony to make a lot of money doing something like that.

That was apparently going have to be one of my questions during this meeting; which I guess was actually going to happen. The unicorn stallion's timely return hadn't been because he had just been setting up a killzone, but because he truly hadn't had to go very far to talk to his boss. Maybe I wouldn't have to kill him after all. At least, not for now. The future could be a cruel bitch, after all.

We came to a stop outside of a door bearing a placard on it that read, 'Lucky Bit CEO'. Once upon a time, this would have been Tommyknocker's old office, I guess. The eggshell stallion knocked on the door with a stiff hoof, and then nodded at me. I pushed the door open and stepped through, curious as to who I would find in the tubby stallion's place.

Inside, I found myself struck by a sudden sensation of deja vu. That wasn't to say that I had ever been inside this particular room before, because I most certainly had not. However, there was something strangely familiar about it. I didn't mean the old world art pieces and furnishings that were a part of so many rooms that affluent ponies liked to set themselves up in. As common as such things were, that wasn't what had me feeling nostalgic right now.

No, that had to do with the missing wall at the far end of the office. I felt that it must have been a rather recent addition to the office. That wasn't to say that there weren't a fair number of buildings in the Wasteland that were missing a wall or two in some of there rooms. There were. However, ponies rarely sought out such rooms for use as their main offices. They preferred rooms that were whole, and did not suggest that they lacked the funds or sense to keep them intact. So imagine my surprise when I saw, beyond the opulent desk and high-backed chair, nothing but air and sky.

Maybe it was part of some tactic to put visitors off? Ponies in charge liked to be at an advantage when they discussed business, after all; and walking in a room like this without knowing to expect it had certainly momentarily derailed my train of thought. The fact that the chair was facing away from me, depriving me of the seeing the face of the pony that I was here to meet, suggested another such tactic. This pony was good. They were also remaining silent, I noted. That was an expected approach. Let the visitor become disconcerted by the silence until they were forced to speak. Well, he wasn't going to get that satisfaction from me-

“W-w-what do you want?” was the abrupt question from beyond the chair that set my ear to twitching.

Now that feeling of familiarity ratcheted up several more degrees. A notion of why this was familiar tugged at my mind, but that couldn't possibly be it, could it?

“...Itchy?” I posed the question hesitantly, nearly certain that my mind was just having fun with me.

“Yeah? I-I-I mean—no! What? Itchy, wh-wh-who's that? Is that even a n-n-name?” the voice tripped over itslef as it tried to explain away it's own outburst, “I d-d-don't have an itch!”

My jaw went slack, having just been given all the remaining proof that I needed to confirm what my mind had been suspecting. Yet, it still did nothing to explain how this was even possible. This was New Reino, in Neighvada. Itchy lived in Flank, who knew how many hundreds of miles away. There was no way in Celectia's-fucking-tatarus, that Itchy could be here.

And yet, “Itchy, it's me: Jackboot.”

“J-J-Jackie?!” the chair suddenly spun around. A little too quickly for the pony sitting in it as it turned out, as I caught only a brief glimpse of the seated stallion before he vanished from sight once more as the chair completed its nearly full revolution. I then heard the sound of a surprised exclamation and the sound of somepony hitting the ground.

It had only been the second's glimpse; but even in the second I had managed to spy the familiar auburn face of the pony that I had known from my drug-peddling days in Flank. That confirmation didn't stem the cascade of questions that were starting to pile up in my head though.

Before I could ask any of them, a second voice from my past resonated throughout the room in a booming, but familiar drawl, “as I live and breathe,” my eyes shifted instantly from the desk that Itchy had vanished behind, and directed themselves out past the missing wall, and the griffon that had descended into view. Though the golden fur had dulled, and those charcoal feathers had whitened around his eyes and beak, there was no doubt about the identity of the new arrival, “Jack-boi!”

“Hey, Scratch,” my tone was far more listless than I had intended it to sound; but it was hard to keep myself schooled with so much happening all at once, “fancy seeing you here.”

The griffon glided into the office and tucked away his wings. He plucked a cigar from the ashtray on the desk and took a deep pull on it. The failing embers glowed anew as a fresh gust of air was drawn up through them. Scratch let out a contented sigh of blue smoke and then regarded me with eyes that nearly danced with mirth, “just when you start to think about how big this here Wasteland is; it get's a whole lot smaller, eh, Jackie?”

“I guess it does,” I glanced past him, at the auburn earth pony that had finally finished picking himself up off the ground and was now busily wiping down the chair for its true owner, “how...why are you guys even here?”

“I could ask the same about you, Jackie-boi,” the griffon noted, “last I heard, the Finders had a hard-on for your hide.”

My expression soured at the reminder of the events that had lead to my unintended return to the valley of my birth. Not my most graceful exit from a town. Not my last, either, as it had turned out, “no Finders out here,” I pointed out, getting a nod from the griffon, “but what about you? You had it pretty good there, why leave?”

The griffon's own expression darkened slightly now, “you don't get where I am without knowing how to read the winds,” Scratch said somberly, taking another puff on his dwindling cigar, “and they was a changin' in Hoofington. A lot of new players riding the thermals down there, what don't have no respect for how the game's s'posed to be played,” he glanced in my direction, “there's gonna be blood in that place, boi. A lot of blood.

“Winged it out o'there for clearer skies.”

“And so now your running The Lucky Bit,” I nodded at the office, “you move quick.”

The griffon snorted and stepped back around to the chair that Itchy was presenting for him, “don't you know it,” he flicked the remains of his cigar out through the open wall and snapped his fingers at the earth pony. The auburn stallion quickly set about clipping and lighting a fresh cigar for his employer, “lot quicker than I'd like, believe you me.

“I was negotiating with the pony that used to run this place, but then he up and died all violent-like,” I suddenly found one of my barding's straps quite interesting, and set to inspecting it very carefully, “fortunately, he had a few enemies. A few well-placed whispers, and they were suddenly too busy fighting each other to notice that little-ol' me had taken over,” Itchy provided his new cigar and the griffon took a deep drag, sighing with pleasure, “still have a loose end or two to tie up; but most everybody's accepted things.”

“Glad to hear it,” I said, having concluded that the strap was indeed perfectly fine; and I was, for the most part. The last thing I wanted was to find myself in the middle of a turf war being waged by the major players in New Reino. I had other matters on my mind after all.

“So what brings you here, Jackie?” the griffon leaned back in his chair, propping his hind paws up on the desk and letting thin wisps of smoke drift up through the nostrils in his beak, “Shell Game said you were being all kinds of ornery downstairs,” Scratch's demeanor was shifting, subtly. Reminiscing was over; business time had begun.

I cleared my throat, ready to get back to the heart of what had brought me up here in the first place. That Scratch was the one I was going to be negotiating with didn't change too many of the core facts of the matter, “you're the one that financed Homily and her crew to got out to McMaren, right?”

The griffon nodded, “I did,” then he rolled his eyes and corrected himself, “well, Tommyknocker did, but at my urging. Of course, he's dead now, so it all falls to me in truth of fact,” he took another pull on the cigar, “and you're the pony that was paid to get them out of the trouble they found themselves in, aren't you?” I nodded. Scratch looked at his earth pony aide, “I thought we'd hired some pegasus chick?”

Itchy just shrugged.

“Windfall,” I confirmed, “she's one of mine.”

Scratch raised his brow in surprise, “my, how the Wasteland does change us. Time was you were a solo act.”

“Reading the winds,” I nodded in the brown earth pony's direction, “and we all need a lackie.”

“Don't we just,” he agreed. Then his expression grew serious once more, “so what'd'ya want, Jackie? More bits? My understanding was that five thousand was still a lot, even here.”

There was a dangerous edge creeping into the griffon's voice that most might have missed. I'd worked with Scratch for over a decade though, and though it had been a while since my last instance dealing with the flier, I still recalled a few things about him. He'd always been a fair dealer with me; because I'd always respected him. Scratch was the sort the dealt in kind with those he employed; and right now, he viewed himself as employing me, since I'd taken on one of his jobs. If he thought I was trying to renegotiate a contract after the fact...things could get unpleasant for me.

“It ain't the money,” I assured him, “the money's fine. I just want in.

The griffon held my gaze for several seconds in silence while he took a slow tug on the cigar. He let out a steady dual stream through his nostrils until his face was all but obscured by the smoke. Then he finally spoke again, “in on what.”

The tone suggested that if I wanted to become a part of whatever the griffon's scheme was, I had to earn it by at least acknowledging what the scheme, well...was. And that was the trick, wasn't it? That expedition had cost tens of thousands of caps to set up and see through. According to Homily and Foxglove, it would be months before the radio tower was even capable of broadcasting anything over a worthwhile distance. Even when it was finally up and running, how was anypony, or anygriffon supposed to recoup that expense?

What was the angle?

I needed more information if I was going to figure this...out.

Information. That was the key.

A smile spread across my face. I tapped my hoof on the floor to get Itchy's attention and gestured at the box of cigars. Instinctively, the earth pony started to get one out, and then caught himself and glanced at the griffon for confirmation. Scratch thought for a brief second and then nodded. I accepted the prepared cigar and took a cautious puff, “it occurs to me,” I began, breathing out the first plumes of smoke from my cigar, “that the big difference between the East and the West, is that the West doesn't have a DJ PON3,” I glanced over at the griffon in order to get a reading on his face to see if I was on the right track. However, I wasn't very good at reading the subtleties of avian expressions. Still, nothing yet suggested that I was on the wrong path.

“What if we did? What if Neighvada had a news source?

“What if somepony, or griffon, controlled that news source,” I took another drag on the cigar, “what if they could use that to make a lot of caps?”

“This is why I like you, Jackie-boi,” Scratch finally said, sitting up in his chair, “you see the sky for the clouds. And I'd be lying if I said I could have gotten this far without you,” he shrugged, “finding ponies with both the skills and the drive to undertake that particular mission was hard enough to do once; I doubt I could have found more for a second attempt.

“As for bringing you in,” his expression narrowed once more, “what are you offering in return?”

Scratch wasn't going to like this, but it was the angle that I'd settled on before I even came up to this room. Who it was that sat in that chair didn't matter, “I'm offering to keep quiet,” I replied simply, taking another drag on my cigar.

The griffon's eye twitched slightly, and I noticed his talons flex and dig into the surface of the table. Itchy took a very subtle half step further away from the griffon, suddenly finding himself something the diligently clean, “I beg your pardon.”

“Ponies will only trust Homily if they think she's independent,” I continued, keeping a level gaze fixed on the griffon, “if word gets around that she's being paid by some griffon in New Reino, nopony's going to trust anything she says. She'll be useless to you.”

“You're playing a dangerous game, Jackie-boi,” the griffon growled, the feathers on his head and neck puffing out slightly. His tail twitched behind him.

“That's what the pony in the suit said downstairs,” I sighed. I looked at the griffon with a frown, “do you think saving your precious little ponies from those raiders wasn't dangerous?”

He was silent for a long time, then, “so...how much do you want?”

“I just want the five thousand caps I was promised,” I began, “and I want in. Whatever you get from Homily, I get from Homily,” the griffon didn't look very happy, but his eyes weren't nearly as enraged as they had been a moment ago, “which is a deal that keeps me honest, and you know it. I let the secret slip, I'd just be hurting myself.”

Scratch stretched out his talons and used them to smooth back his feathers, “fair'nough,” he nodded. He didn't sound very happy about the notion of sharing his secret with anypony but, in the end, I wasn't asking for a lot. Honestly, it wasn't even going to take any additional effort on his part to keep me quiet. It'd be more trouble, and most costly, to arrange to have me 'taken care of'. Which was what I was counting on.

“This just in,” the griffon said in a reluctant tone, “whenever Homily starts a story with those words, that means it's a fake.”

“Fake news,” I quirked an eyebrow, “bold. Won't ponies catch on after a while?”

“Unlikely,” the griffon shook his head, “it'll never be anything too obvious. Report of increased raider activity here, hell hounds spotted there; reports that can be chalked up to rumors and passing trials.”

I frowned at the examples, “that's it? The only ponies that would care about that sort of thing are...caravans,” I sighed and hung my head, “you're going to dictate trade routes.”

The griffon nodded, a smile once more finding its way onto his face, “I own some stakes in various way-stations. Enough to set the prices for food and water. When the timing's right, suddenly there are reports of caravans being raided along competing routes. The merchants get nervous, change their routes, and I reap the profits.”

“Then the communities that see reduced traffic raise their own prices to attract caravans, and you just 'happen' to have a wagon or two willing to make the 'risky' trip,” I finished, unable to help but sound a little impressed by the simplicity of it all.

“Exactly.”

It wasn't a bad way for an enterprising individual like Scratch to make a tidy profit. It wasn't going to earn back the fortune that he'd just spent setting it up overnight; but after a few years he'd have made back ten times what he spent. The best part was that nopony would be the wiser. They'd be too preoccupied with the convenient local news station to care about the one in a hundred stories that turned out to be an exaggeration.

The question now was how I was going to make money off of this information. Of course, that was something I was still going to have a few months to mull over, “thanks for the heads-up, Scratch. And the cigar,” I nodded at the griffon, “it was good catching up.”

“Quite,” he replied, not sounding quite as dour as he had a moment ago; though to say he was pleased would be pushing things, “watch yourself, Jackboot.”

“I always do,” I turned and strode out of the office. The unicorn was still standing there, waiting. I passed him the cigar, “have my pay delivered to my room at the Flash in the Pan. The front desk will know the room number,” without another word, I headed for the stairs and made my way out of the casino.

Now it was time to finally get more pressing concerns addressed.

When I arrived at where I'd had Windfall make our reservations, I swung by the gaming tables first, in case the two of them had somehow managed to not blow all the spar caps I'd given them. Meandering around the outer edges of the large central room, I scanned the ponies at the tables. While Foxglove might have been a bit harder to pick out from the crowd of earth ponies and unicorns, I felt that a white pegasus should be have stood out rather blatantly. Imagine my surprise when I couldn't spot her. Perhaps she was in her room?

An outburst from the middle of the casino drew my attention to the crowd of ponies that were clustered around a single table where some sort of show must have been going on. From the pitch of the yelling, a mare was having quite the lucky break, it seemed. Her howling was echoed by a chorus of other gathered mares and stallions that were vicariously basking in her joy.

Then I heard a stallion crowing above the crowd, “come on, lucky lady, let's have another kiss for another seven!”

Curious, I started walking over in the direction of the crowd. Foxglove would keep for a couple more minutes. The gathered ponies grew hushed, and then there was the sound of a pair of dice clattering across the table. A pause. Then the calm voice of the casino staffer running the table, “seven,” the end of the word was lost amid a raucous cheering from everypony else around the table. Punctuated by a mare screaming at the top of her lungs.

It turned out that the mare in question was Windfall, which I only realized because in her mirth, she launched herself into the air and did a little somersault before disappearing into the middle of the throng of ponies once more. I blinked at the spectacle. When exactly had the flier learned to play craps?

I pushed my way through the ponies, ignoring their displeased grunts and glares. At the center of the crowd, I saw that there were three ponies that had become the center of attention. A unicorn stallion that I didn't recognize, and a pair of mares that I most certainly did. For her part, Foxglove was clearly enjoying herself, but was keeping a much more reserved composure than the pegasus. Windfall was simply reveling in being the center of attention and feeding off of the adoration of the other ponies around her; who were in turn reacting to the flier's obvious delight. The dice were moved once more to the unicorn stallion, who lifted them into the air with a cyan glow from his horn. He floated the dice over to Windfall and winked at the young mare.

“Lucky lady?” he beckoned, flashing her a broad grin.

Windfall leaned in and kissed the dice, then sat back and watched them expectantly. The pair were jostled in the air for several seconds while ponies placed their final bets. Then they were cast at the table and clattered off the backstop. A pause, then, “eleven!” another chorus of cheering. Windfall was bouncing around with laughter and latched herself onto the unicorn stallion.

I glowered at the pair. Especially the stallion, who looked all too pleased to be receiving the flier's embrace. Foxglove was watching them idly, a small smile on her face. Then her emerald eyes caught sight of me standing on the other side of the hugging pair from her, and I saw her become instantly concerned. As well she should be. The violet mare was going to have three seconds to break them up, or I was going to.

Indeed, only two seconds passed before the unicorn mare tapped her pegasus companion on the back and pointed in my direction. Windfall glance up at me, and wasted no time in hopping over her now forgotten stallion friend and landing in front of me, with wide blue eyes that were dancing with glee, “I'm winning!”

“Are you now,” I glanced over at the table, and several growing piles of caps, wondering which belonged to the pegasus.

“Well, I mean, no,” the pegasus frowned for a brief moment, “Foxglove and I lost all our money pretty much immediately,” then her expression brightened again, “but every time I kiss the dice, they come up seven or eleven!”

“So everypony else is winning,” I grimaced.

“Well...yeah,” Windfall admitted, but her exuberance was not to be deterred, “but everypony else is totally giving me caps when they win big,” she produced a pouch that contained a hefty number of bottle caps. Her brilliant blue eyes locked back onto mine, “isn't it great?!”

Before I could respond with something that may not necessarily have been unkind, Foxglove was at my side, looking at Windfall, “I'm sure Jackboot was just checking in on us before he went to the room,” then to me she added, “I'll show you which one's yours,” I nodded and flashed one final glare at the unicorn stallion, “be back in a few, Windy,” the violet mare nodded to the flier as she ushered me away.

Once we were out of earshot of the crowd, which sounded to have gotten right back to their game, I said to the unicorn, “care to give me a reason why I'm not choking out mister 'lucky lady'?”

Foxglove's response was measured, and contained no hint that she even remotely enjoyed my company, “because you're about to get exactly what you want; and your part of the deal was leaving Windfall alone.”

“My part of the deal was not fucking her,” I corrected, “I don't recall any provisions about choking out stallions I don't like.”

“She's happy and she's having fun,” the unicorn pointed out, “there's no harm in that.”

“So, what, complete strangers are allowed to fuck her, just not me,” I growled at the mare as we headed for the stairs leading to the rooms, “that isn't going to fly, and you know it.”

Foxglove's jade eyes glanced at me, “do you actually think she'll let that unicorn take her to bed?” her tone suggested that she thought a lot better of the pegasus than I did.

“She's being awfully friendly with him,” I pointed out.

“She's just having a good time, that's all,” the unicorn insisted as she came to a stop in front of a door. A key floated out of her saddlebag and unlocked the entrance to my room, “just...let her have this. You're getting what you want.”

The mare had a point, I conceded. I stepped into the room and took a look around. These were going to be some caps well spent, it seemed. A spacious bed, of which I intended to make ample use of. Food and liquor had already been delivered. A couple bottles of Applepone Estates rum, a platter of dried fruit chips shipped down from Seaddle, and a couple Fancy Buck Snack Cakes. All in all, a respectable spread. I noticed a door leading off to the side, and glanced back at Foxglove, “does the plumbing actually work in this place?”

She nodded, “for suites like this one, it does.”

“Draw us a bath,” I instructed the mare while I made my way towards the bed, shucking off my barding and other gear as I went. Rum wasn't my thing, but I was going to take it over the watered-down swill that I'd gotten from the Lucky Bit. The fruit chips were delightful though, and the snack cakes didn't taste as stale as some tended to. They must have been well preserved wherever they'd been kept at these last two hundred years.

When Foxglove had the tub filled, I had her bring along one of the bottles of rum for us to share while I soaked. The plumbing may have worked, but the water heater appeared to be on the fritz. If it even actually had one. Probably just an open air heater on the roof, if that. Whatever. The water wasn't freezing cold, at least. I lounged in the tub, feeling the soapy water slowly eating away at the grime that saturated my coat. Occasionally, I'd ask the unicorn to pass me the bottle, or a piece of dried fruit.

It was clear that Foxglove wasn't enjoying this though. That was a shame. We had this glorious room to ourselves, and even a decent sized bath tub. How often did we get to enjoy this sort of luxury? She should absolutely be a part of it; that'll cheer her up, “you should join me,” I suggested, rolling over onto my stomach and laying my chin over the end of the tub. I motioned towards my backside, “help me get at those hard to reach places. Then I can do the same for you.”

“I'm a unicorn. I don't have any 'hard to reach' spots,” to illustrate her point, she levitated up a bar of soap and let it do a quick orbit around her body before letting it drop off into the water with me.

“Well, I do,” I slipped my arms under my chin as an impromptu rest and flashed the mare a mildly annoyed look. Then I nodded towards the water, “so help me reach 'em.”

Foxglove narrowed her eyes slightly, and then I saw her horn glow. I jerked unintentionally as I felt something slithering over my hind legs and flank. Quickly, I realized that it was the bar of soap that she had just tossed in with me, and was now manipulating with her magic. I glared at the mare, “not, with your magic.”

“Why not?”

I took a deep breath in order to keep myself from getting any more agitated than I was. The mare was being difficult because she could be. It wasn't as though she was actually my slave or property in any way; and she had made no secret about being a reluctant partner in this deal. I was practically blackmailing her, and she resented that. It only made sense that she would try to comply as little as possible without explicitly breaking our deal.

And that deal was the leverage that I had with her. There weren't any 'early termination' clauses, after all. I kept my hooves off of the pegasus only so long as I felt that I was getting satisfaction from her. A fact that she seemed to need reminding of.

I tapped my chin thoughtfully, “you know, Windfall doesn't have any magic,” I pointed out, as though the thought had just occurred to me, “and it's been just as long since she's had a decent bath. We could totally help each other out,” I raised myself out of the tub, “I'll go see if she's interested-”

“Fine.”

The word came out in the form of a resigned sigh from the glaring mare. I allowed myself to sink back into the tub with a pleased smile. My eyes watched the unicorn expectantly as she climbed into the far side of the bathtub. She kept her own gaze locked on mine as she sat there. Her hooves sought out the bar of soap, and I now felt her slothfully pushing it back and forth over the same part of my back.

Another sigh. Saffron was so much better at this. I bet that Foxglove wouldn't even be willing to put on a bridle either. Shame that; she'd be more bearable with something in her mouth...

“You are some piece of work, you know that?” the unicorn said nothing, she simply continued to lather those same three inches of my back. That portion of my coat was simply going to shine with the amount of attention it was getting. Whatever, I could talk for the both of us, “you act like you'd be happier if I just dropped dead; but we both know you let that caravan ride a long time ago.

“I was right on my way to a gruesome end back there in Seaddle, and you went ahead and rescued my ass,” I glanced back at the mare out of the corner of my eye to gauge her reaction. She was grimacing as she recalled the events in the prison, “then you went ahead and stopped Windfall from shooting me dead.

“So why all the hostility?”

Foxglove broke her silence now, “I broke you out of jail because I needed you to help me find Windfall,” she informed me, tersely, “and I stopped Windfall for her sake, not yours.”

“You got her to let me keep tagging along,” I pointed out.

“Again,” the violet mare reiterated, “that was for Windfall's benefit.”

“My hanging around the pegasus is a benefit, but my making a mare out of her isn't?” I frowned, “how do you know a dicking won't do her some good?”

“Windfall needed to see you not being a White Hoof,” Foxglove growled, the bar of soap rubbing against me a little harder as she spoke, “she needed to believe that she hadn't been raised by a monster all her life. Which means she needs you to not 'fuck' her.

“She needs you to care about her.”

I grimaced, partly from what the mare was saying, and partly from the rough treatment. I was supposed to be enjoying this, “That pegasus has to grow up sometime. The Wasteland ain't a place where ponies care about each other. You get what you can, when you can, from whoever you can.”

“Well, sorry to break it to you, but Windfall doesn't think like that; in case you didn't notice,” Foxglove said with a note of satisfaction, “she believes in helping ponies.”

“So I ain't a perfect teacher,” I grumbled and shifted in the tub slightly, “don't change the fact she wants me, and you know it.”

“She's...confused,” I heard the waiver in the unicorn's words. It sounded like she wasn't too certain of things either, “she wants to you still care about her, but she doesn't know how to get you to express it.”

“I think she knows exactly how she wants to express it,” I chuckled.

“I'm not going to let you take advantage of her like that,” the violet mare insisted with a low growl.

“Ain't you a trick and half,” I was laughing now, “your mothering that little pegasus by lying to her. What's more, you want me to help you lie to her,” I craned my head and flashed the unicorn a wry smile, “you want Windfall thinking I'm a changed buck that loves her like a daughter—which I ain't; and what's more, you're here trying to buy me off on the notion with sex—and doing a piss-poor job of it, by the way.

“Horseapples, I don't even need to mount that filly to break her spirit, do I? How fragile is she right now? What do you think she'd do if I walked up and told her I'd had enough and was going back to run with the White Hooves?”

Foxglove balked and blinked at me in shock, “...would you really do that?”

“What, actually go back to the White Hooves? Fuck that! Whiplash'd have me dead in minutes,” I shrugged and leered at the unicorn, “don't mean I can't tell Windy though.

“What do you think she'd be willing to do to get me to change my mind?” could I get the pegaus used to a riding crop? Worth a shot...

The unicorn was glaring at me now, and I could feel the hate pouring out of those eyes. My own wry smile didn't falter though, because I had a notion that Foxglove wasn't the kind of pony she thought she could could be when it counted, “new offer on the table,” I informed her, nodding my head into the bedroom, “Full Stop is loaded and ready to go. Go ahead and grab it with that horn of yours and end me here and now.”

The mare was taken aback, searching my eyes with her dubious gaze. She wasn't going to find any sign of deception though. I had no plans to lift a hoof to stop her; because I knew she wouldn't do it. I waited until the count of ten in my head, and Foxglove hadn't so much as moved from where she'd paused in the tub.

“You ain't the sort that can shoot an unarmed pony in cold blood, are you? Though I have seen you stab a pony in hot blood,” Foxglove averted her eyes now, “not even to protect your precious pet pegasus' virtue,” I was favored by a reproachful glare from the unicorn, “if I got up and left, would you even make a genuine effort to physically stop me from going to her?” more silence, and a look of shame on the mare's face.

“That's the trouble with you 'good pony' types,” I sighed, rolling over onto my back, “you fall just short of what would solve your problems. One bullet. That's all it would take to protect Windfall from me doing what you're afraid of most.”

Finally I received a verbal response from the mare, “...please.”

I frowned at the unicorn, “unless you can think of anything else that'll keep me in this tub?”

My question was met with silence. Alright then. I started to raise myself up and out of the tub to make good on my promise to break whatever hold Foxglove believed that the flier yet held over me. However, I made it only a few inches before Foxglove placed her left hoof on my chest with just enough force to let me know that she wanted me to stay; but not so much that I couldn't simply push past her touch with minimal effort.

Her right hoof traced down to my loins, and I did indeed pause. I'll be the first to admit that I was a little surprised at this turn of events. It had seemed like she was going to completely renege on our prior arrangement. I guess I had managed to strike a nerve somewhere along the way. Foxglove certainly had my attention though; there was no hiding that.

Wow, it really had been a long time to get a reaction that fast...

The unicorn mare flashed one brief glance in my direction and let me see the resignation in her eyes. Then her head dipped below the surface of the soapy water and all thought of leaving the tub quickly vanished...

I lay in my bed, enjoying the remaining pieces of dried fruit that I hadn't gotten to before embarking on my bathtub escapades with Foxglove. The unicorn had left about ten minutes ago; presumably to find something to wash her mouth out with and then check on Windfall to make sure the pegasus hadn't gotten into any trouble while we'd been occupied.

It had been...entertaining to watch the mare work. She had good breath control, I had to give her that much; extra points for having her head underwater most of the time. Her technique wasn't bad either. A little lacking in the exuberance department, but you couldn't have everything I guess. I didn't manage to get her to swallow, even by releasing without warning with a firm hoof on the back of her head; but at least she hadn't spit it all back up in the tub either. I had at least gotten my tears though when she'd come up gasping and spitting up over the side of the bath. No 'Daddy', but I did get an 'asshole!' from the mare. Next time I was going to go ahead and take her from behind, see if she could get rid of anything then, heh.

This...this could work out, I thought to myself with a contented sigh. I had a full stomach, a freshly washed coat, and I'd just gotten off in the face of a pretty unicorn mare. It was like I was back in Hoofington again. In fact, the icing on the cake would soon be arriving in the form of a massive payday from an old business partner.

A knock at the door broke me from my revere.

Speak of Celestia, and she shall appear bearing gifts! Okay, that probably wasn't how the saying went; but my version was going to prove far more apt when describing the current situation. There was little doubt in my mind who would be knocking at my door, and for what purpose it would be. I rolled out of the bed and trotted happily over to the door.

“So, are they separated in hundred cap bundles,” I began, placing a hoof on the door's handle, “or are they all in one giant-” why was there a red dot in front of me on the Eyes Forward Sparkle?

“fuck!”

The door exploded.

Alright, so the door didn't literally 'explode' all at once; but significant portions of it burst inward in rapid succession from one side of the door across to the other. It sounded like a dozen ponies were on the other side all unloading shotguns into it! How I had managed to throw myself to the floor so fast was beyond me, but it had certainly saved my life. I scrambled away from the splintering portal and desperately gasped for one of the weapons holstered in my crumpled, discarded, barding. My teeth clamped around the grip of my 9mm just as I heard the remains of the door to my room get kicked in.

I wasn't even giving and thoughts to aiming right now, just shooting. I had fifteen rounds to go through, and with the tight confines involved, I figured that I had to score at least a hit or two just out of volume of fire. My eyes locked on the figure that was charging into my room. A pair of drum-fed shotguns were strapped to the sides of a silver mare dressed in heavy metal barding. My heart sank as I caught sight of the quality of her armor, but I was committed now.

The slide bucked in my mouth as I manipulated the trigger as quickly as the mechanism would allow. Most of my shots went wide of course, and even the hits did little more than spark off of her barding harmlessly. If at least made her flinch though. For a moment. She gave a massive shrug, which tipped forward a rather fearsome looking helmet that had been cocked back behind her head. The only exposed part of her body was now encased in what appeared to be a crudely modeled dragon face as she turned to face me and level her weapons at my still prone body. The slide on my pistol was locked back.

Well...horseapples.

The mare didn't shoot though. Instead, she spoke. The helmet slightly muffled her words, but I understood them, “drop the gun, and surrender,” she demanded, “I am binding you by law, under the authority of Princess Luna and the New Lunar Republic.”

Wai-what? “the Republic?! We're in New Reino!” it was stupid, I know; but at the moment, I was simply far more struck by how unfair the notion seemed than anything else. Seaddle soldiers didn't have the authority to operate in this city, did they? How could I be getting arrested here for crimes that I'd committed there?! Not that this mare was dressed like any proper soldier that I had ever seen employed by the northern city; Commonwealth or Republic.

“Drop the weapon,” came the reiterated command, “I'd rather walk you back than drag a corpse; and the bounty is higher if you're breathing.”

Oh, well that sort of explained a few things, “you're a bounty hunter?” my eyes darted between her and the doorway for a fraction of a second. She'd left quite a bit of an opening there; about enough for a pony to fit through. Maybe if I was fast enough...

“Drop the weapon,” the mare snarled through her armored helm, “I won't ask a fourth time.”

“You shoot me with those things, there might not be enough left of me to prove you got the right stallion,” I pointed out.

There was a brief pause from the armored mare, “you're probably right,” she conceded. Then she glanced to her left, at the empty air right beside her, “Medica?”

“Medi-wha...” my voice trailed off, and my eyes grew huge. It wasn't an empty space that was next to the armored mare anymore. It was a floating head. A floating zebra head; as though the fact that it was a zebra head was what really made the sight surprising. The zebra smiled, and then a pair of hooves flowed into existence. Between them was clasped a thin reed of some sort. He brought it to his lips and his cheeks puffed out.

“Ow!” I flinched and glanced at my chest. A tuft of red feathers were sticking out of my sternum. I glanced back at the strange pair with a bewildered expression, “did you...just...shooooooo...”

My head lolled back, the pistol, falling from my slack jaw.

This place had a nice ceiling...

One of these days, I was going to regain consciousness somewhere that was a far sight better than wherever it had been that I'd originally lost it. You know, like on some distant island that was inhabited entirely by lonesome frisky unicorn mares that had been so desperately hoping for a strapping and virile stallion to just wash up on their shores. Oh, and they had been practicing all of their carnal fantasies on one another and would be ever so enthusiastic about showing me how they went about things; and could I please let them know exactly what I wanted them to do to me, and could their friends join in on the fun too?

And while I'm dreaming, one of them looks like Celestia, because you know why? Fuck her! Fuck that thrice dead goddess and all of her fucking karma right in her goddess-damned face! I'd had it all; I was there! Caps, comfort, good food, plenty of booze, and a hot unicorn that I could fuck; I had finally achieved everything that I ever wanted in life!

Again, by the way! That was right; I had once had all of those things before too. In fact, I'd had all of those things a few times in my life. They were mine by right when I was about to take leadership of the White Hooves. But then my backstabbing sister stole them right out from under me. So I worked, and fought, and survived in the hellscape that is Hoofington for years! Finally, I had all of those things back again, if only for short spurts of time between Wasteland adventures.

Then along comes a group of Finders that made so tempting a target, how could I not murder them and take all of their stuff? Like it was my fault they were connected to the right ponies? Whatever. Once again, everything I'd wanted in life was stolen from me. Fast forward to now, eight years later. I just finished clawing my way back into luxury and was on my way to having a good thing going in New Reino. Sure, there'd been a hiccup or two, those sorts of things happened. Maybe Foxglove wasn't a perfectly 'willing' lay, but she was experienced at least...

...and now it was all gone. Strike three. Fuck. This. Bullshit! Why did it keep going so wrong just when it was all starting to go right?!

Bounty hunters! Since when were bounty hunters a thing in Neighvada?! I mean, yeah, okay; so anypony could post a flier in a town and offer somepony a bunch of caps to kill a guy. Even the local governments did that with particularly bad ponies...but it wasn't supposed to happen to me! It wasn't like I was a mass murderer or something.

...well, not that the ponies in Seaddle had ever charged me as one; whatever facts may exist to the contrary. Most of the ponies I'd murdered had been in Hoofington and Manehattan. I mean, there had been that farmer early on...but technically Windfall had killed him. At best, I was an accessory to that. And all of the ponies I'd killed as a White Hoof had either been slaves or ponies too weak to resist us. Besides, I'd been a colt. They couldn't charge me with the deaths of ponies that I'd killed as a colt, could they?

Oh, right...the colt, and his politician employer. I'd murdered them too; but I was still pretty sure nopony knew about that.

My point is, that I did not feel that I was the sort of pony that warranted having seasoned bounty hunters coming after him while he was just starting to enjoy himself.

Mentally bracing myself for...well, whatever depth of shit that I was now in, I opened my eyes and scanned the immediate area; making an effort to move as little as possible. The longer they thought that I was unconscious, the more I might be able to learn before they started minding their words and actions around me.

At the moment, the pair that had confronted me in the Flash in the Pan were the only two figures that I could see, and they were both currently laying around a nearby fire. It was sometime in the middle of the night. The silver mare wasn't wearing her rather impressive steel barding at the moment, leaving it piled in a neat heap nearby. Instead, she wore a simple brahmin-skin vest.

Earlier, in my room at the casino, I recalled having been rather intimidated by the size of the armored mare that had shot her way through the door. At the time, I had assumed that much of her size was the barding that she wore. While not the true powered armor fair that a Steel Ranger might wear, it was a quite comprehensive array of metal plating that covered the entire body. Now that she was out of it, I had to admit that the barding's plating must not have been nearly as thick as I had initially assumed. The silver mare was clearly quite the large specimen for a pony. While it was hard to tell from here, what with her currently laying on the ground, I suspected that she would have stood a fair bit taller than me; and I was hardly a small pony myself.

It wasn't idle girth either. Her coat looked to be stretched rather taught over a clearly well-muscled physique. That much I was jealous of. While I might not dedicate hours of every day to building up muscle mass, I did lead an active lifestyle. It kept me trim enough for my advancing age, though I had noticed a few areas that were developing an irksome pudge despite nearly constant trekking through the Wasteland. However, even during my younger years, I had never approached the level of physiological definition that this mare had. It was a little emasculating actually.

Like her barding, her dual automatic shotguns weren't with her. There was just an odd looking sledge hammer slung at her side. It was a clearly well used tool; and I suspected that the haft had been replaced a time or to in its lifetime. In the dancing firelight, I could even spot a few nicks and depressions present in the hardened steel head that testified to the many instances where it had struck something at least as hard as itself. Certainly an unusual melee weapon, when compared to what I typically saw ponies carrying. Except for some of those crazy Hoofington raiders. They'd swing at you with the oddest things...

At this precise moment, the silver mare was sneering at something that the zebra had just said. A brave stallion, that zebra. I wouldn't feel very comfortable saying anything to a pony like that that might upset her. Not when she was built like somepony that could fold me up like a bedroll if she felt so inclined.

The zebra wasn't just a floating head and a pair of hooves anymore. His back was to me as he pleaded his case to the mare, leaving me without much to go on with specifics where he was concerned; other than that her kept his tail bobbed for some reason. Maybe it was a zebra thing? His sense of personal grooming wasn't particularly important at the moment though.

A set of saddlebags of a style I had never seen before lay nearby. Most traditional bags were designed to drape over either side of a pony. The ones I saw here had a very different strap configuration; and they were of different sizes as well. How he wore them, I had no clue. What they contained was a bit of a mystery as well. The smaller rounded pouch was sealed up tight, and the larger boxy satchel possessed a number of colored tabs on each side. There was obviously a purpose to their marking, but without getting a closer look, I wouldn't be able to figure out what it was. Frankly, there wasn't very much that I could do from where I was. Not yet at least.

I kept still and listened in on their discussion.

“He can live with three legs,” the zebra stallion insisted in a slightly nasally tone. Then he sniffled and rubbed his nose, “he can probably even still walk without the one,” another sniff, “I'm just saying we should explore our options.”

“We're not cutting off his leg to get rid of the pipbuck,” the mare replied evenly. The conversation suddenly had my complete interest; as I was fairly certain that the number of stallions around here with pipbucks on their legs was a distressingly short list. Why was the subject of my dismemberment on the table? “besides, they'll probably want the pipbuck anyway; so we'd still have to bring it with us.”

“We could send it along by courier,” the zebra insisted, rubbing his nose some more.

The silver earth pony rolled her eyes, “oh, suck it up,” she sighed, “it's just a pipbuck. Your eyes aren't even watering, and for all your sniffling, I haven't heard a genuine sneeze yet.

“You'll live.”

The zebra started rubbing his shoulder vigorously, “but I'm already starting to break out,” he insisted.

“Bullshit,” the mare frowned, “you didn't even touch it. It's all in your head,” the striped stallion sniffed rather loudly, the wet sound demonstrating that there was a good deal of mucus in his sinus cavities. The silver pony rolled her eyes, “mostly in your head. Whatever,” then she jabbed a hoof in his direction and narrowed her gaze, “no dismemberment!”

I found myself in staunch agreement with my female captor: no cutting off the prisoner's legs!

“How can somepony even be allergic to technology in the first place?” the mare grumbled.

“I keep telling you,” the zebra said, sounding exasperated, “it's not technology, it's the fucking gem polish you ponies used on you jewels in your technology. I'm fine around guns and stuff like that,” The zebra huffed and snorted, wiping his nose again, “I still think it's dangerous to let him keep it on though.”

“It'll be fine,” she insisted, sounding a little less irate now; recognizing a much more valid point of concern where the little electronic device was concerned, “he's unarmed, and just an earth pony.”

“He's also awake,” the zebra cut in, turning his head slightly to the left and glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, “do you want me to drug him again?” his hoof reached out for a set of nearby saddlebags.

The mare whipped her head in my direction, her expression drifting from shock to a wry smirk, “I don't think that'll be necessary,” she stood up and walk over, stopping directly in front of me and staring down at me, “will it, Mister Jackboot?”

I frowned up at the mare and rolled onto my belly. I noted the steel shackles clamped around my fore-hooves that were chained to one another. They would allow me to walk at a slow pace, but not much faster. Running would be right out, “I don't suppose we can come to an arrangement?” I posed.

The mare cocked a brow, “beg pardon?”

“Well, you're bounty hunters,” I pointed out, “which means you're out here trying to collect a payday; I can appreciate that,” and I could, “so...how much?”

“For you? The Republic is offering five thousand Republic bits; or the equivalent amount of caps. That's for alive though. Dead is only one thousand.”

“In that case,” I smiled at the mare, “how does ten thousand sound?”

“What?” the mare's eyes widened with mild surprise.

“Ten thousand caps,” I repeated, a broad smile on my face, “and all you have to do is let me go.”

The zebra laughed a nasally laugh that resulted in a dribble of snot sneaking out of his nose, which he quickly wiped up. The mare similarly chuckled, which caused my smile to melt into a frown, “I'm being serious,” I assured them, “I've spent the last few years stashing away for my retirement. And I'm willing to part with all of it in exchange for a free pass,” in truth, I had significantly more than ten thousand caps locked away back in New Reino; but I figured it was better that they believed I was offering them all that I had so that they didn't hold out for more. After all, their bargaining position at the moment was rather advantageous, to say the least.

The pair of bounty hunters sobered up quite a bit at that and exchanged a look. Then the mare returned her gaze to me, “let's assume that I believe a pony like you has that sort of cash somewhere. Let's also assume you aren't just going to try to double-cross us or lead us into a trap. Let's also assume that the Republic never finds out about this little deal and completely tanks our reputation with them. That still leaves one little problem...”

The mare leaned in close, flashing her gritted and bare teeth in my face, “the only thing I hate worse than White Hooves or Steel Rangers is a White Hoof that works with Steel Rangers, you murdering scum,” the last word came out in a near-hiss.

“I-wha-?” my mind stuttered for a brief moment as I tried to comprehend what the silver earth pony mare could possibly have been talking about. Then I recalled the encounter I had last had with the Republic, and how it had been interrupted by a squad of Steel Rangers, “...oh,” while that officer, whatever-his-name-was, had promised to omit Windfall's involvement, he had not really gone into much detail about how he would ultimately report the incident to his superiors.

“Yeah: 'oh',” the mare snarled, “maybe most of my contracts are about business,” she conceded, “but this one in particular, will be a pleasure.”

Well...horseapples. I tilted my head to the side and looked past that mare to her zebra companion, “I don't suppose I can buy just your loyalty?”

“Afraid not,” the striped stallion shook his head, “I don't much care about the whole White Hoof/Ranger angle personally,” he admitted with a shrug, and a mild sniff, “but I'm not interested in getting my head crushed by Pritchel here,” he nodded at the mare.

“He's such a charmer, isn't he?” the mare frowned for a brief moment and then flashed one final glare in my direction, “if they'd let me, I'd swing the headsmare's axe myself; so save your bribes and your bargaining. You're going to get what's coming to you, so make peace with that,” she went back to the fire and laid back down, her attention now on the zebra again.

“Pass me a cola, Medica,” the silver earth pony said with a note of irritation, “and what've we got in the way of dinner?”

The zebra poked open the flap of his smaller rounded pouch and peered inside, “our choices are Cram, or Alfalfa Crisps,” he glanced back at his partner expectantly.

The mare cringed and stuck out her tongue, “ick. Didn't we have Sugar Apple Bombs?”

“You finished those off last night.”

“Oh, right,” she sighed and waved at the zebra, “pass me the Cram then,” the tin can passed hooves, “but please tell me we're not out of Sparkle-Cola RADs? I'll need something to get the taste out of my mouth.”

The zebra flashed a grin at the mare, “as if I'd ever let you go without,” he pulled a bottle that contained a subtly glowing pink liquid from his bag and passed it to the mare. A couple more bottles containing the curious drink spilled out of the bag as well. The zebra set them off to the side and closed up the pouch after withdrawing a small box that boasted the image of a young earth pony foal enjoying a green wafer.

I felt, but fortunately did not hear, my stomach issue a minor complaint at seeing my two captors dining while I went without. My throat felt suddenly dry as well. I kept my expression neutral, and my grumbling tummy in check. The hike back to Seaddle was going to take several days, and if these two were committed to delivering me alive then they'd have to at least give me something to drink at some point. I certainly wasn't going to give them the opportunity to demonstrate how much power they really had by asking for something they would most assuredly deny out of spite.

Honestly, at this point, if it looked like I was really going to be delivered to Seaddle, I'd probably rather die of starvation or thirst on the way there anyway. Ebony Song wasn't likely to be any gentler the second time around. Not when he had a whole host of new questions to ask me where my affiliation with the Steel Rangers was concerned.

I grimaced at the thought. What exactly had that brown earth pony told his superiors when he got back? Granted, I guess he'd had to come up with some explanation for why'd he'd come back without me. It's not like being in league with the Rangers was going to tarnish my reputation with the Republic any further, now that they knew I was a White Hoof. Still, I don't think that another round of 'I don't knows' was going to put the Prime Minister in a better mood than he was in last time.

The zebra gathered up the bottle of glowing soda and carried it over to the silver mare. Just after dropping it off, my eyes widened slightly as I saw him lean in for what was quite clearly a kiss. Then a smirk spread across my face when the muscly mare stopped his advance with a firm hoof on his lips and shake her head.

“Not happening,” she informed him sternly, “I'm not about to give him a show,” she nodded her head in my direction. The zebra followed her gaze, looking mildly irritated when I gave the two of them a little wave with my manacled right hoof.

“I understand,” the striped equine said in a tone that registered to my ears as meaning 'damn it', and returned to his side of the fire to munch on his own meal of Alfalfa Crisps and water. Well, it hadn't been much, but I was about ready to settle for anything that I could do to irritate either of these bounty hunters. There was something at least mildly satisfying about knowing that, between the three of us, I was the only one that had gotten any tonight.

Ooh...there was a depressing though: that little bit of bathtub head from Foxglove was the last I was going to get before I died. Baring a stupendous stroke of luck, or a fantastical lapse in bearing on the part of the silver mare, at least. That...that really sucked. If I'd known that was going to be my only shot at the unicorn, I would definitely have insisted on bending her over that bed. Fuck, if I'd had known this was going to be it, I'd have then reneged on the deal myself and found Windfall downstairs. The sex with the virgin flier wouldn't have been anything special; but at least I'd have gotten something for my last eight years raising her.

I winced briefly at an annoying flash of yellow and pink in the back of my mind. It vanished almost as suddenly as it had appeared, chased away by a dark shape, and allowed me to once more focus on my current surroundings. The mare was reluctantly eating her processed...whatever that stuff really was, and following up each bite with a generous sip from her bottle of glowing pink liquid. The zebra, in contrast, actually seemed to like the dried out green wafers of what may even have been actual processed alfalfa plants. He drank periodically from a simple canteen, his eyes watching his partner with veiled interest.

My mouth turned up in a curious frown as I regarded him. The longer I watched, the more I realized that he wasn't really watching her. His eyes twitched slightly every time she took a sip of her drink. Odd. I mean, I guess most ponies considered the habits of zebras to be strange, but this seemed...I don't know. If he wanted some of the soda, it looked like there were plenty of bottles to go around. He had two more right next to him that hadn't even been opened yet; but instead he stuck to his water.

I shrugged and made myself comfortable and closed my eyes. Not that I felt particularly tired. I had just woken up from an impromptu nap, after all. There just wasn't much point in my continuing to watch the two of them enjoy a meal and remind myself of how hungry and thirsty I was. I could still hear them eating of course, but those sounds were muffled by the crackling of the nearby fire. If I focused on the burning wood, I couldn't hardly hear anything else at all.

The next few days were certainly going to suck. The days after that were going to be a fair sight worse. Fuck you, Celestia. It's like you were letting me succeed just so that it hurt so much worse when something like this happened. I was there, damn it! I'd had it all...For one night, I'd had it all.

Setting your sights kind of low to settle for a few bits of fruit and two minutes with a mare's mouth on your dick as being 'having it all', aren't you, Brother Dear?

You know, maybe you should try wrapping your mouth around somepony's dick for a change, I grumbled at the voice in my head. Celestia knows I don't need to hear anything from you right now. Figments of my imagination aren't going to get me out of this crap.

There was a time you wanted the whole valley kneeling at your hooves, Whiplash continued, as though not having heard my previous comment, and now you just want to be forgotten by everypony.

Not everypony, I amended, just the ponies that wanted me dead. You're on that list too, by the way. Take a hint.

You are such a joke, the piss-yellow mare snickered from the back of my mind, to settle for that pathetic little life.

It's not like you gave me a lot of choice, is it? What am I supposed to do? Bathe the valley in blood on some crusade to take back my birthright? Kind of hard to take on the world when all you've got is yourself.

Hmm, I felt my sibling nod her assent, you're probably right. I guess pathetic little ponies like you shouldn't dream big. It's good that you know your place.

Fuck. You.

She gave a little laugh, oh, somepony's getting fucked; but it's not either of us, Brother Dear...

I quirked my brow, and then felt my ear twitch. The sound of crackling timbers still dominated the air; but where before had been the background noise of food being chewed, was now heaving breathing and hushed gasps. It was a very recognizable sound. Surprised, I opened up my eyes and looked around. I blinked in astonishment.

The silver mare, who had only minutes ago been very firmly against even giving the zebra a little peck on the lips, was now lying prostrate on her belly with the striped stallion draped over her thrusting away. Her head was canted to the side, stealing desperate embraces from her lover between soft urgings for him to continue at a faster tempo. If he heard her, he gave no sign, as he seemed to be quite focused on the task at hoof.

From my perspective, there was even a tiny note of comedy to the appearance of these two. I'd known that the mare was rather large, but I hadn't yet gotten close enough to the zebra to judge his own relative size. However, I could now see that the two of them were a rather odd pairing. Not only was the earth pony a larger than usual pony, her partner proved to be on the smaller side of the scale. In fact, I judged that if she were to stand up, it would actually be physically impossible for the zebra to successfully mount her while keeping his hind hooves on the ground. That mental image caused me to snort internally.

Still not much for the whole 'watching' angle, I found myself examining the scene far more academically than most might have. Unless I had lost track of an absurd amount of time just now, the silver mare had only a couple minutes ago been rather firmly against the notion of public displays of affection. Now she was literally begging for him to continue and I got the impression she didn't either know or care that I was only a short distance away watching them. What had I missed? Seriously, she hadn't really seemed all that into him about five minutes ago.

It certainly didn't look like the zebra was of a mind to complain about the shift in attitude though. He was rather happily plowing away, occasionally wiping at his still runny nose. What he lacked in relative size, he was making up for in enthusiasm. More power to you, you monochrome bastard.

Then the zebra faltered for a brief moment, his face scrunching up in irritation. He wiped at his nose vigorously for a couple of seconds, and then let out a rather impressive sneeze that nearly bounced him off the mare. He took a deep sniff and wiped away the snot that was now flowing more freely from his nostrils. He groaned and cursed, “huck you, Minessry of tehnologee,” in a voice that sounded more like he had just had his nose broken than his sinus' clogged up, “fuck you and your infernal gem polish!” his eyes flashed a glare in my direction, specifically at my pipbuck. Then they grew a fair sight larger, and his jaw went slack.

“Don't stop,” the mare beneath him gasped through her panting, apparently oblivious to whatever had caught her lover's attention.

I had to admit that I was a little curious as to what had caused the zebra's eyes to grow to the size of dinner plates though. A little wary, I turned my head to followed the striped stallion's awed gaze...

...and my heart caught in my throat.

Oh. Horse. Fucking. Apples.

Everypony in the Wasteland, from Neighvada, to Manehattan, to Trottingham, knew what Princess Luna and Princess Celestia had looked like. Their images were plastered over half the buildings in any ruined city that you chose to wander through. Them and the Ministry Mares. Posters that encouraged the citizens to be vigilant, loyal, and most of all to serve the war effort in any way possible, all contained some depiction of the ancient ruler of the pony kingdoms.

Princess Luna was always shown as being a stoic figure of the deepest blue, her flowing mane shimmering with glittering motes of light. Sea-green eyes spoke of a wisdom and knowledge beyond her deceptively youthful appearance. Her lips always set in grim, determined, lines. She would not flinch away from the enemy, and neither should anypony else that served Equestria.

That all being said, I had never actually seen the Princess before with my own eyes. I had not been present in Seaddle when the long absent alicorn had made her return to this world and vowed to restore the Wasteland to its former Equestrian glory. The ponies that had been there were also far more found of regaling others with the details of her martial victory, rather than the specifics of her appearance. After all, everypony had seen a poster at some point, and knew what Princess Luna looked like.

At this moment, I felt that it was rather obvious that all of the makers of those posters had taken a fair bit of 'artistic license' with their work. The pony that stood at the edge of the firelight looked nothing like her pictures. In fact, if not for a few key similarities, I wouldn't have even known that it was Princess Luna at all.

Her coat, for one, was not a deep indigo, but the blackest jet that I had ever seen. Where most ponies' coats might reflect back at least some light that was shone on their fur, this massive alicorn's body seemed to actually absorb the orange light that was so playfully dancing off every other surface around her. Her mane and tail were a different matter entirely though. They shone with such brilliant silvery radiance that the light of the nearby fire actually seemed to make things dimmer somehow. Her eyes as well, not blue-green motes of eternity; showed themselves to be cyan slits that held little more than contempt for all she beheld.

A silver breastplate that had been polished to a mirror shine covered her chest, and each of her hooves where tipped by glistening metal caps that glittered in a similar fashion to her mane and tail. While perhaps not practical barding from a combat standpoint, it certainly complimented the alicorn's air of presence quite well.

She was big too. Bigger even than Bivouac had been in her true form back in McMaren. The Princess of the New Lunar Republic stood three times taller than I did. Well, I say that she 'stood', while in actual fact her hooves were not in contact with the ground. She hovered in the air, massive wings pumping lazily to keep her aloft.

I could see now why the White Hooves had fled. By all accounts, her long, thin, horn had meted out death as though the act were a mere trifle for the alicorn. Just the sight of her would have been enough to send me running, I admitted that; and I didn't consider myself one who spooked easily. That wasn't to say that I didn't know when retreat was the wiser course of action. That wasn't abject fear so much as prudence though.

What I was feeling right this moment, however? This was fear. I had little doubt that my expression matched that of the zebra's.

My gaze had been so enraptured by the sight of the midnight alicorn, that I had completely missed the pony with her. A traditionally sized brown unicorn mare with green eyes dressed in the typical barding of a Republic soldier. It was her that actually addressed us. I got the impression from Luna's expression that the Republic monarch would hardly demean herself by directly addressing such insignificant creatures like ourselves.

“Her Grace, The Goddess Returned, Princess Luna demands your attention,” the soldier mare spoke in a firm tone.

The words felt very redundant, as I wasn't certain what sort of pony would have had their attention anywhere else. She certainly already had mine. The zebra's too, if his gaping mouth was any indication. Shit, he was taking her arrival worse than I was! His legs were trembling. It was the silver mare who needed the guard's words, if anypony did. While she had clearly registered that there were other ponies in the area now, I couldn't help but feel that she was not giving our guests their fair due; as she had one hoof tucked beneath her, and was sensually nibbling on the other.

...Seriously? How could she be...? My mind certainly couldn't have gone there, and the zebra was rather obviously no longer in the mood either.

The soldier seemed to notice this too, and I was ready for the Princess to strike her down for such a display. Why she did not was probably a testament to her nobility as a ruler of ponies. While the observation seemed to give the Republic soldier momentary pause, she retained her overall focus on the task at hoof, “you have done well for your Princess,” she commended the bounty hunters, “but Her Grace shall take possession of the prisoner from this point on.”

The silver earth pony mare finally seemed to take an interest in the conversation and she got to her hooves. Her head bowed slightly, “always happy to help deal with White Hooves, Princess,” she paused for a moment, “I just hope this won't affect the payment?”

The zebra looked livid, and he took a reflexive step or three back. His terrified eyes darting from his partner to the massive alicorn hovering nearby, “shut up!” he hissed, “you do not talk that way to the Herald of the Stars!”

To Princess Luna he said in a trembling voice, “forgive her, please. She is...not herself,” he bit his lower lip and winced as he watched for the midnight alicorn's reaction. The ruler of the Republic merely blinked and remained silent. It was once more her escort that spoke.

“You will be paid the full bounty,” the brown unicorn mare nodded. A satchel levitated into view, wrapped in a green glow, and floated over to the pair of bounty hunters. The zebra reached out and took the bag himself, as the silver mare next to him had taken to sighing and rubbing up against his side. Much to the striped stallion's consternation it seemed. Again the guard favored her with an odd look and then her green eyes went to me.

“You're in our custody now,” she strode towards me, a cold glint in her gaze. Her horn started glowing once more and I felt my shackles tugging at my legs, urging me to stand and follow. I was not particularly eager to comply though.

This was it. There was no way that I was going to be able to get away from a living Goddess! Maybe when it was just me and the two hunters I could have found some way to make an escape when their guard was down. The chance of that had been slim, perhaps; as they had initially seemed quite competent. However, there was absolutely no way that I was going to be able to do anything about my capture now! Look at her! She didn't even need a large escort of guards to watch over her while she was a hundred miles away from her throne. She had dispatched an all out White Hoof assault on Seaddle in less than an hour.

What was a little earth pony like me going to be able to do against that?!

Follow along meekly and die at her pleasure, obviously.

Horseapples.

The guard leaned down in front of me, still glaring. Then through her teeth she mumbled very quietly so that only the two of us could hear, “getupgetupgetup! We have like, five more minutes!”

I blinked. What? Wait...I recognized that voice, and those eyes, “...Foxgl-”

A hoof was planted firmly over my mouth and the emerald eyes narrowed at me, “shut up, cur!” she said much more loudly now, “and do not delay Her Highness any more than you already have,” she jerked her head westward, “now come!”

How...?

I shook my head and rose to my hooves. Questions later, escaping now. Ignoring the sense of deja vu at once being freed from my captivity by a disguised Foxglove—she was eerily good at this—I fell into step behind the faux guard; and nearly tumbled over her when she came to a sudden halt. Her eyes were on the bottles of Sparkle-Cola RAD that the zebra had left out from earlier. I glanced at her with a raised brow, but she ignored me. Instead, she set her horn to glowing again and fetched the bottles to herself.

“Her Majesty is thirsty from the long trip,” the unicorn informed the pair of bounty hunters with a wry smile, “and she thanks you for this generous contribution.”

The zebra's eyes went wide and he was halfway through the first syllable of some sort of objection when he caught himself. The brown unicorn mare Republic soldier—who was apparently also Foxglove somehow—quirked a brow at the striped equine, “you would deny Her Grace a refreshing beverage after her long trip?”

“I...ah,” the zebra swallowed, sniffed, and then sneezed. Finally he shook his head, though his expression remained very pained, “of-of course not!” he winced and forced a smile, “whatever she wants!” his lips quivered for another moment, and then he sneezed again.

Foxglove deposited the pair of bottles into her saddlebags and nodded her head at me once more. The two of us trotted at the fastest pace that I could manage in my hobbled state. As we left, I her the silver mare mumble something about getting back to more important things; a glance over my shoulder showed that she had pounced on the zebra, who was not looking nearly as into it as he had been earlier.

Then my eyes went to...'Luna'? The massive black alicorn fluttered along silently beside us, regarding me with a wry smirk. Then, for the first time, she spoke, “hey, Jackboot!”

I about tripped over my manacles and plowed headfirst into the ground, “Windy?!”

It had been her voice, certainly; but it was impossible that the small alabaster pegasus was playing the part of this massive alicorn that had to be closer to three times the flier's own size! Foxglove's disguise was easy enough to explain: a set of Republic barding and some paint or dye and, voila, you had yourself a NLR soldier. But how did you grow somepony Windfall's size into...well, this?!

Then she flickered.

Huh?

For the briefest of moments, Princess Luna had vanished, and I had instead spied the mush more familiar white pegasus mare. She had been her normal size too. Then, just as suddenly, the black and silver alicorn was back, though looking a little concerned. My ear twitched as I detected a faint electronic tone pulsing every few seconds.

“Um, Foxglove,” Princess Luna said in Windfall's voice, “it's beeping...”

“Keepwlakingkeepwlakingkeepwalking,” the unicorn leading us hissed through gritted teeth, glancing back over her shoulder at the vanishing firelight. I complied as best I could, but I still had a few nagging questions that I decided I could ask while I moved at my hobbled pace.

“Um...how?” was all I managed to get out, glancing between the Foxglove and...Windfall, I guess?

“That holographic thingy,” the alicorn tapped her chest, smiling. Odd, that I saw the silver-capped fore-hoof tapping the breastplate, but I heard no telltale sound of metal clanging against metal. In fact, it sounded more like a hoof tapping on a Sparkle-Cola bottle than anything.

The image of the alicorn wavered again, and for longer this time. I got a better glimpse of the pegasus now. She was wearing her normal fair of reinforced leather barding and twin submachine guns; but in addition to it was the familiar contraption that the three of us had pulled from the old Ministry of Wartime Technology bunker a few weeks back. The same contraption that Foxglove had used to imitate a guard and break me out of the Seaddle jail with. Then Windfall was gone, and Luna was back.

“Oh...” was all the response I could come up with. I thought back on all that Foxglove had told me about the device when we'd found it, and found myself with more questions, “I thought you needed an image or picture or whatever of somepony in order to make that thing look like them?”

The unicorn glanced back at me, and then looked further back to assure herself we were leaving sight of the bounty hunter's camp. Only then did she respond, “that's correct. Funny thing though,” she peered up at the massive alicorn fluttering along beside us, “when I was setting it up last time, I noticed that it had a couple images already loaded into it. A couple zebras, Rainbow Dash, and a file entitled, 'LunaMoon',” she shrugged, “I mean, I guess it figures they'd want to test it out to make sure it worked, right?

“I had honestly briefly thought about going in to free you as Princess Luna, but...I thought it would be too risky, what with the real one in the city somewhere. So I went out and took some pictures of a guard on patrol instead and used a terminal to load them into the holorig,” she looked up once more at the alicorn's image and frowned, “it's...weird though. This isn't how she looked in the history books. Hmm.”

Princess Luna flickered out for a third time, and did not reappear again. The metal device clamped onto the pegasus' chest gave a sad little warble and the gemstone mounted to the center of it dulled. Windfall glanced down at the stone, “all gone,” she said with a disappointment sigh. She glanced at Foxglove, “you were right, it really didn't last very long.”

The unicorn frowned, “it would have lasted a lot longer if we hadn't had to scale it up so much to cover your weapons and barding,” she shrugged and glanced at me, then back at Windfall, “but it worked.”

I glanced back at Foxglove, eyeing her coat, “and you?”

“Dirt,” she wiped a hoof across her face, removing the brown color and revealing her true violet nature beneath.

The pegasus settled to the ground and, with the other mare's help, started to remove the device strapped to her chest. They also used this time to finally relieve me of my restraints. After a few long moments of stretching, and a quick donning of my own gear, which the pair had brought with them, we proceeded at a much more gingerly pace away from the bounty hunters, and deeper into the Wasteland.

“So, what's the plan?” I asked the pair.

“Run,” Windfall replied as she flapped along lazily beside us.

“Hide,” was what the unicorn followed up with.

I grimaced, “where?”

“Old Reino,” was the answer that I received from the little white pegasus. It was a response that stopped me in my tracks.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me. Why there of all places?”

Most of the settlements in the Wasteland were built upon the bones of the Old World. Seaddle, Fillydelphia, and Trottingham, to name a few. The ruins of ancients buildings were rebuilt or repurposed to house and service the current generation. There were exceptions to this though. Nopony lived in Hoofington proper, as that old city was a death trap. In that same vein, Old Reino was a nopony's land filled with pockets of Taint and magical radiation that made establishing a permanent settlement all sorts of impractical.

The occasional prospector might chance a trip or two if the need for caps was particularly dire; but even raiders were loath to set up any sort base in that place. Thus, the prospect of hiding out there for any length of time was hardly what I would have considered to be an appealing option.

I had no way of knowing the exact nature of what had destroyed the ancient Equestrian city. Given that it had been a pony settlement during the war, one might have supposed that it had been leveled by one of the zebras' many balefire bombs; which had been their doomsday weapon of choice back then. Of course, with that weapon's prevalence also came a list of common identifiers that a knowledgeable pony could use to locate such detonation sites.

Old Reino lacked any. There were no scorch marks or craters. Magical radiation existed in only in small, localized, pockets instead of over a general area. What was strange, nopony could seem to agree on exactly where those pockets were. Mapping out places where it was dangerous for ponies to go when searching through old ruins was, in itself, a lucrative enterprise. A prospector would pay a decent sum of caps or bits to know where the most dangerous concentrations of Taint were. Indeed, many maps had been made of Old Reino in the past, with the purpose of pointing those locations out. Many different maps, actually.

Some chalked it up to scammers that were just trying to cash in by making and selling fake maps for a quick cap. The trouble there was that a lot of those map vendors had created and sold other perfectly respectable maps of other parts of the Neighvada valley. Being their primary source of livelihood, they relied heavily on have a trustworthy reputation; and trying to con caps out of other ponies didn't fit with their business model. A pony like myself might get in on something like that if I knew I'd be floating through some area; but not if I wanted to make a long term go of it.

In fact, those same map makers often released newer, 'updated' maps of Old Reino every couple of years. If you had any of their older maps, you would see a very different layout of the hazardous areas. I might not have known much about how magical radiation worked on any sort of scientific level, but I knew that something that had so far stuck around for two hundred years didn't just completely vanish in a month or two; and then pop up a few blocks away. Stuff like that had a source of some sort. Taint pools, damaged spark reactors, something like that.

Not Old Reino though. That place's radiation just sort of seemed to wander around.

I'd need to keep a close eye on my pipbuck in that place. Idly, I reviewed my stock of Rad-Away. It wasn't good, given that I took a lot of pains to avoid places like this because I didn't want to deal with that sort of thing. As far as hiding places went, this one was far from ideal.

On the other hoof, I was very much running out of decent places that I could hide out in, so...

I had to wonder though, “how bad is it? The bounty, I mean?”

The pair exchanged glances. It was Foxglove that responded, “it's...not good, Jackboot,” at my questioning glance, she winced and went on, “the NLR has a pretty big one out on you.”

“Five thousand bits, I know,” I frowned. Then something clicked in my head. Hadn't these two covered the bounty somehow?

“Wait...where did you get that...awe, fuck! The payment...” I groaned.

“Afraid so,” Windfall confirmed with a nod, “the Republic barding and spark-batteries weren't cheap either. They also charged us for the damage to the room.”

Every additional comment elicited another pained wince, “how much is left?”

There was a long pause. Then, “um...seventeen caps?”

Well, that wasn't quite true. I had somewhere just north of thirty thousand looked away in New Reino; but I wasn't so sure it would be a good idea to go back there quite yet. If those two had tracked me there, others would too, and they might even still be there if word hadn't yet reached them that somepony had already nabbed me. I also wasn't in a mood to let Windfall in on my retirement plan. Even so, the loss of all those other caps and bits really hurt.

What hurt almost as a much was the knowledge that I was once more on the run from civilization. I'd lost count of how many times this had happened to me now. Horseapples!

Whatever. It was over and done with, and crying over it—more—wasn't going to help me any. I needed to look forward if I was going to get through this...again.

The first order of business was finding someplace to shelter in. Preferably on the outskirts of the old city for now until we at least had a fair idea of where the radiation was concentrated in for the time being. After that, we'd need to work on securing viable food and sources of water. I had zero intention of moving in to that place, but it would take a fair while to figure out a more permanent place to go to where the NLR couldn't reach me.

I wondered in the Finders were still holding a grudge after all this time? The trip there would take me through a lot of Republic territory, but if I could make it back to Hoofington...

A frown creased my features. Scratch wasn't the sort that I figured to spook easily; so if he thought something big was going to be going down there, maybe now wasn't the best time to make travel plans...

So, east was out of the question for some ominous sounding reasons. North was the Republic. West were the White Hooves. What was south? Zebra territory, I think. I wondered how they felt about ponies on the whole these days? At least they wouldn't have any specifically personal grudge against me that would put them in a killing mood. It was an option to consider at least.

“I hope the two of you at least bought supplies before coming out here,” I glanced between the other ponies.

“Funds were pretty tight,” Foxglove informed me, “a few days of food and water; not much else.”

Great. I sighed and shook my head. We'd have to do a little ruin diving it sounded like; and I was not looking forward to that. Ruins were dangerous places. My eyes went to the pegasus hovering nearby. She was capable at least. Hopefully we wouldn't come up against anything too difficult for her to handle. I certainly wasn't going to be the one sticking my neck into any dark buildings first.

We walked—and Windfall floated—in relative silence for about the next hour before we spotted something rather interesting in our path. It was a cart. This was not a wholly uncommon sight, I know. Lots of carts and wagons littered the Wasteland's old roadways; left where the ponies pulling them had died when the megaspells and balefire bombs detonated. What made this particular cart a little bit of an oddity was that we were nowhere near any of those old road networks. So this had been likely left here by somepony that had survive the war.

Again, that was not something that was completely surprising, on its own. Ponies abandoned carts for all sorts of reasons. In this instance, however, it was very hard to tack down exactly what that reason might have been.

To start with, the cart looked to be in serviceable condition. Like everything that existed in the modern world, it was by no means 'new'. It was a relic of the fallen Equestria, like so much that ponies used today. In many places you could identify where repairs had been made over the centuries by ponies with a wide range of carpentry skills and taste in suitable materials. At the end of the day though, it had four wheels that turned, an intact yoke, and a sturdy bed that supported the weight of its contents.

Which brought me to the second notable aspect of this cart: it had contents. This world was not one where ponies that hoped to survive could well afford to part with any material they came across that could prove the least bit valuable or essential. Pawing through the items, we found ammunition—some of which even suited our preferred calibers—electronics equipment, and other salvage that a lot of traders dealt in. There was even a hefty quantity of Rad-X and RadAway which, given our current tack, we pocketed immediately.

My point was that whoever had brought this cart out all of this way, would not have simply left all of these valuables if they could have helped it. Granted, it looked as though they couldn't. For it was not just the cart that we found, but four sets of barding, saddlbags, and weapons.

What was rather pointed missing, were the ponies that should have been wearing all of those items.

“Okay...this is creepy.”

I silently agreed with Windfall's assessment of our surroundings, even as I slipped a pair of grenades into the pouches of my barding. Picking through their possessions, I noticed something rather pointed about the discarded armor: it had been cut off of the former owners. Not in some frenzy of claws or blades as one would expect from monsters or raiders. Key straps had been precisely cut that would remove the barding with as little effort as was absolutely necessary. Somepony had known what they were doing when they'd gone about this.

It didn't leave any answer's as to the 'why', of course.

“Think it was slavers?” Foxglove's asked of nopony in particular.

“Maybe,” was the flier's answer.

To which I shook my head, “not slavers. They'd have taken the weapons, ammo, and chems if it was,” I continued examining the piles of gear. They had been stacked in a specific order, indicating what had been removed first from the ponies wearing them. Weapons on the bottom, then saddlebags, then barding. These ponies had been...shucked, for lack of a better term.

“Then, what? Critters?”

Again I shook my head, “no monster I know of that would have piled the gear up like this. I'd also expect to see blood.”

Which was conspicuously absent. Also not in attendance were any spent casings. None of these ponies had been carrying energy weapons, so if they'd been attacked, they would have returned fire and left brass scattered everywhere. Yet, I had not spotted a single cartridge. These ponies had been taken completely by surprise.

This was a fascinating concept, as the terrain around us was flat and open. No rocky outcroppings or nearby buildings. You could see anypony coming at you for miles in every direction. In order to have taken these ponies by surprise, you'd need to be practically invisible...

...or actually invisible, I realized. The memory of the floating zebra head last night was still very fresh in my mind. I doubted that those two bounty hunters themselves had been responsible for this, but somepony else employing that sort of invisibility cloak—or somezebra I guess was the more likely case—could have caught these ponies off guard. Drugging them the way that I had been would also account for the lack of blood and casings. If all four of these ponies had been surprised and subdued by zebra agents, then it was no wonder why no sign of a struggle existed.

That explanation did make a lot of sense, and it ticked all the right boxes for a lot of the questions this scene raised. Except for one: 'why'? Why surprise a little party like this out in the middle of nowhere, take out the ponies and drag them off, but leave every piece of hardware behind? Even slavers needed medicine and ammunition, right? What was the angle here?

As I took in the sight, a memory of a conversation crept back into the forefront of my mind. A discussion about news from around the valley, and the rumor of caravans and ponies going missing. That had been close to two months ago though; and this site was not two months old. The gear barely had any dust on it at all. I'd say this happened a week ago, at the most. Which meant that there was a group out there who had been at this for months, at least.

Large scale, or at least a long term, operation. That implied that a lot of ponies had been abducted. The slave markets around here were drying up thanks to the Republic, so where were the captured ponies being taken to? Well, zebra technology, zebra tactics, maybe zebra lands was the answer to that little question.

Still no satisfying 'why' though.

“Take what you can use. Stay alert,” not that we were likely to do much better if what happened to these ponies happened to us.

As though heading to Old Reino wasn't dangerous enough; now we had to worry about invisible pony-nappers.

Thanks, Celestia. Fuck you too.

Wind Rider Wagons and Freight.

That's what the sign on the side of the massive warehouse said anyway. Far off to the south I could see the silhouette of a distant city, which had to have been Old Reino. It looked far more intact than most old ruins that one might come across in the Wasteland. Further evidence that whatever had killed off the ponies there during the war, it had not been a traditional balefire bomb like those that had ravaged most of Equestria. The warehouse that the three of us were looking at now was revealed by the mid-morning sun to be rather intact as well. Rusted and showing its age, but otherwise whole.

Outside was a large paved lot that boasted a half dozen large carts and enclosed wagons that were obviously designed to be pulled by a team of two or more ponies. Most had wheels, but I noticed a couple that were instead mounted on skids and struts. I wondered how those were supposed to have gotten around?

I fixed my gaze on the large open gate that existed in the side of the main structure. A red blip was present. I glanced up at the pegasus, “something's in there. Go kill it,” I received a nod from the flier, and a glare from the unicorn. Before Foxglove could voice whatever objection was on her mind, Windfall zipped away and darted into the darkness beyond the doorway.

A few seconds later we heard a short salvo of gunfire. This was followed by the roar of a beast that I was able to identify as a radscorpion. Then there was a pause and another, longer, burst of gunfire. Pinpoints of green light passed across the opening, followed closely by a rattling of small explosions. There was a second roar that was cut short, and then the gunfire stopped. In the next moment, the armored flier swooped back into view and flashed the two of us a satisfied grin.

“All clear!”

I nodded at the pegasus and walked through the door, skirting around the minced up corpse that had once been a decently large bug.

Inside the large warehouse it looked very much the same in terms of wagons; though there were crates and barrels as well. The transports inside were also in various stages of disassembly. Presumably, this was where they were maintained and repaired.

Foxglove instantly wandered over to where the tools and equipment that was used to conducted those services were kept. I grimaced slightly as the unicorn was distracted from helping Windfall and I continue to check the rest of the building out to be sure it was secure. It probably was, as my pipbuck showed no red blips to indicate hostile creatures or robots nearby. I still intended to get a better lay of this place to see if it would really be viable as a shelter for us while we were here.

I checked a couple of the crates to see what they contained, and was discouraged to find that it looked like nothing of any particular use to us. Bolts of cloth and sheets of rusted metal. Materials that would probably been very useful while fighting a war on a national scale, I suppose; but nothing that did the three of us any immediate good. No intact weapons, or ammunition. Not even bulk foodstuffs.

The smaller portion of the warehouse that had been dedicated to serving the ponies who worked here provided a little in that regard at least. Not the weapons so much, but there had been a vending machine with a few packaged Fancy Buck Snack Cakes and Alfafa-Crisps. A few bottles of Sparkle-Cola as well. Enough for a couple of days, but we'd need to do some foraging if we were going to make a longer go of this.

I had Windfall pack away what provisions we found and then continue to search with me. Two sets of eyes were preferable to one when it came to scavenging through ruins like this. One door along the simple hallway opened to reveal a small bunk room, where I presumed some of the teams of ponies stayed between trips. We searched the lockers, but found nothing of any real value. Some clothing and amenities, which I suppose was to be the expected haul from a place like this. One locker did have a box of ammunition, but it was thirty-eight caliber, which was a size that none of us had weapons for anyway.

There were two other offices on the other side of the hallway. Each was rather sparse with typical office furnishings and a terminal. Nothing useful was located in these either. There was one oddity that I noted though: the computers were blank. They had power, and looked to be functioning normally in most ways I expected them to. However, they didn't have any file directories or other programs on them. What kind of pony had a computer at the desk of the place they worked at that was completely blank?

At the end of the hall was a wooden door with a nameplate affixed to it that read, 'Wind Rider, CEO'.

When I stepped inside, I was expecting this office to be as sterile as the others. To my surprise, this one looked to have been very well furnished. The walls were covered in shelving and glass cupboards, boasting a wide variety of knick-knacks and frames. I found myself wondering what a pony like this was doing running what essentially an Old World version of a caravan company. The room was nice, very nice. Even after two hundred years, the crimson carpet still felt plush beneath my hooves. It wasn't even all that dull, really. The desk was exquisitely carved with etchings of ponies and clouds across its face. Beyond was a high-backed chair with velvet upholstery. I wandered over to take a closer look at some of the nearby baubles.

Most the frames had photos in them of ponies in uniform. The common denominator was a cyan pegasus stallion with a darker, wavy, mane. Well-groomed and a posh dresser, he had the same self-satisfied smirk in all of the pictures. The news clipping too. There were more than a few of those. 'Wind Rider Sets New Records!' 'Wonderbolt Honored!' 'Second Chance for Spurned Hero!' There was even a bust of a stallion's head that was adorned with a blue and gold mask that resembled those worn by the uniformed ponies in some of the other pictures.

“Some sort of war hero?” I mumbled to myself under mu breath as I looked through the awards and clippings, “who'd he piss off to end up here?”

“Maybe he retired?” the nearby flier ventured as she studied a trophy that was topped by a depiction of a pegasus in flight.

Possible, but, “I don't see a pony like this one being satisfied running caravans for the rest of his life,” he liked fancy parties and getting to know important ponies. I couldn't have named any of the ponies that he was shaking hooves with in all of these pictures, but they were all too well dressed not to be rich and important. This pony had made connections during his life.

So why run freight?

There was a terminal on the desk that still possessed some power. It was password protected though, so nothing of interest for me. Foxglove might be able to take a crack at it and see if there was any mention of a cache of food or weapons somewhere. Speaking of the violet unicorn mare, I thought with a smile, it was a new day; and I had some stress to work off. My eyes went to the pegasus. First, I needed to get her out of here for a little while.

“Drop the food off in that bunk room we found and fly a peremiter sweep,” I instructed the pegasus, “I don't want to be surprised by anything out here,” it wasn't just a line to get her away from Foxglove and myself either. We were a long way from civilization, and near a massive sprawl of old ruins. There could be all sorts of monsters and raider bands around here. Best we find out if any of them were close before we considered spending the night.

Windfall nodded, “on it,” she trotted out of the room.

I hung back for another minute or two, occupying myself with looking at a few more of the relics in the room. Notably the ones on his desk. Those were what he would have considered most important, probably. The things he'd want to be able to always keep in sight. Not a lot was filed under this category, surprisingly: just a medal, and picture of a young mare, barely more than a filly. I glanced at the plaque with the award on it, reading the caption.

'Purple Hoof, awarded to Airpony, First Class, Storm Rider for her ultimate sacrifice, in service to the Princess during the Great War.'

I glanced towards the picture of the mare. It was a bust shot, but I could make out the collar of the clothing that she was wearing, it was very similar in coloration and style to uniform that the stallion that once owned this office had worn in so many of the photos along the walls. Marefriend or wife, perhaps? Upon further inspection, I became skeptical of that notion. The mare bore quite the resemblance to the stallion. I wouldn't say they were straight up siblings, or even a father-daughter pair. Niece, then? Maybe even a close cousin.

'Ultimate sacrifice', huh? That's rough, pal.

Then I glanced briefly at the computer terminal nearby; my eyes darting between it and the picture of the mare.

He wouldn't have been that sentimental, would he?

Nothing would be lost by giving it a shot, I figured. I navigated my way towards the password prompt, and typed in the name that had been mentioned in the award citation. Sure enough, the screen flashed for a brief moment, and then presented me with a list of file directories. I browsed through the list. This was a freight company, right? That meant that they should have a list of warehouses or depots or something where they'd send their wagons to, and maybe even a log of what was in those places. A company this size would have transported all sorts of supplies for the war: weapons, ammo, medicine. If I could track down a location for a cache of that sort of thing, I could recoup my losses in no time.

The thing of it was, that I couldn't find that sort of list. Personal files, letters, personnel transfer logs, but nothing dealing with hardware. It had to be here though, right? It wasn't on any of the other computers.

Would he have talked about it in his letters? Maybe one or two of them were about shipments. I tabbed over to one promising heading: 'RE: Pick-up Details'. If they were picking something up, then they'd have to have delivered it somewhere too, after all. The file opened and the text started flowing onto the screen.

Lightning, I'm serious. Things here have been getting very tense ever since the operation wrapped up. Suddenly the Ministry isn't returning my calls, and all our other missions are on 'standby' until further notice. I have operatives that have been here for over a month with no orders. What gives? It sounds like your unit is still active in Seaddle, but how can that be when all of your orders are supposed to be going through me?

For fuck's sake, I tried calling RD just yesterday to find out where the 'merchandise' ended up. I didn't make it past her damned secretary, and do you know what that bitch told me? 'It's classified.' Classified?! I'm the fucking Chief of Operations for all MoA activity in the Neighvada Valley! How can something be going on here that's so classified that I'm not allowed to know about it?!

This is reckless and you know it. The zebra agents have our scent. First they killed the MoI rep last month, and then, two days ago, our entire network got hit with a worm that wiped our terminals. Just when I was about to finally find out where those crates had been shipped to. Thank Luna I installed that redundant drive on my computer; but my tech says that everything else is completely gone! My tech also confirmed that it was a zebra virus that they'd been using to disrupt systems all across Equestria.

We're compromised, and RD doesn't care. She's already gotten one good pony killed for no good reason. How many more have to die before anything's done about it?

Lightning Dust, she still trusts you. She's at least talking to you! See if you can find out what's going on. That MoI agent's family deserves some damn answers, and I don't have any!

Wind Rider

I frowned slightly. It seemed promising at least. The ministries wouldn't be dealing in junk, so if there was a shipment of supplies out there it would be worth something. It didn't sound like Mister Rider was in the know about it though. Maybe there were some clues in the other messages that would let me know who might have known...'Operation Report' looked like it might be more helpful.

To: Rainbow Dash

Ministry Mare

Ministry of Awesome

Operation Stolen Echo has concluded. As per your instructions, the recovered material is being transported to the coordinates you provided. I should warn you though: we're not equipped for this sort of thing. It will take nearly a dozen trips, and there is a high degree of probability that we'll draw attention to ourselves. Zebra agents are always looking for opportunities to disrupt our supply lines. This front has thus far avoided being a target because we are such a low profile freight company that makes infrequent trips. To meet your deadline is going to require a level of activity we've never displayed before.

Also, I have spoken with the MoI agent that we were attached to for this operation, a Miss Sassy Saddles. She is under the impression that she is here to assist us, and not the other way around. I would appreciate some clarification: is this an MoA project, or an MoI one? Given the nature of what we're dealing with, I thought it made sense that Image was the lead on this; but Miss Saddles insists that she was asked to be here to help us as a favor.

I look forward to receiving a prompt response.

Regards,

Wind Rider

COO, MoA Neighvada

Closer all right. Some big ministry op that required a dozen trips with those freight wagons we saw outside. Those things had looked rather large, so the size of this shipment must have been massive. The zebras were interested in it too, from the sound of things. If I could just find out where they sent those supplies to...

To: Rainbow Dash

Ministry Mare

Ministry of Awesome

Follow-up Report:

Sassy Saddles has been killed. A zebra wet team ambushed her while she was on her way home from overseeing our transport operations. One of my own agents was severely wounded in the attack and remains in critical condition; but the doctors believe that she will eventually recover.

We believe that this attack was a result of the increased activity that I mentioned in my initial report.

Will the MoI be sending another agent to oversee the operation?

Also, can either you or the MoI please brief me on what was so important about those toys? Ponies died over this, Miss Dash.

As COO, and the MoA agent in charge of Operation Stolen Echo, I am drafting a notification to the MoI. I am told that Miss Saddles was a close personal friend of Miss Rarity. I will be sending Miss Saddles' personal effects along to her to be forwarded to next-of-kin.
I hope this was worth it.

Wind Rider

COO, MoA Neighvada

Damn it. 'Toys'? Really? I was with Wind Rider on this one. What was a ministry doing fucking around with crates of toys? Was the war going so bad that they'd run out of guns or something? I growled in frustration at having come so close to a big score and yet have nothing worthwhile to show for it. Quickly checking a few other directories, I did managed to stumble onto something else that caught my eye though. Nestled among some personal looking correspondence was an option to open an electronically locked safe. Safes were always good, especially when they were still locked after two hundred years.

There was a resounding metallic 'thunk' from somewhere nearby. Glancing around, I eventually located the source in one of the drawers of the large wooden desk. Sure enough, the door to the safe pulled open easily, revealing the contents within.

At least this trip had not been a total loss. A bag of old bits, which would at least be worth something to the right ponies in this valley, and there was even an energy pistol A nice one too; custom job with a few choice modifications. Wind Rider was a pony of taste, after all; no ordinary sidearm for him. This would definitely be worth some money. Maybe not the thousands that I had been hoping for, but a few hundred at least. Enough to get me back on my hooves when I found somewhere else to get settled.

There was one other item of note in the safe: a set of saddlebags. These, I presumed, had not belonged to Wind Rider actually. He dressed in stylish enough fashion in some of those photos, no doubt; but these would have been a bit much even for him. Slim, elegant, and studded with small precious stones. These saddlebags had belonged to a mare. Maybe that 'Miss Saddles' that had been mentioned in the letters. She was a pony who seemed to dress without regard to cost, if these bags were any indication, so maybe she had a few valuables as well.

Or not. The first two things I pulled out was a make-up compact and something that looked like a tiny little whistle. Honestly, it looked like it had very little place in the bag. While the bag and the compact were stylish and fancy, the whistle looked tacky and cheap. Glancing at the label on it, I learned that it was a 'Royal Roar!' Charming. Go figure some mares. The third object made me drop both it and the saddlebags.

It was a small statue of a pony.

Oh, for fuck's sake, not another one! How many of these things were there?! I groaned audibly and peered down at the little figurine. A white unicorn mare with a purple mane and a sultry expression. Not going to lie, if I'd known her when she was alive, I'd have fucked her right in half. That styled tail was just begging to be wrapped around a hoof to make sure she didn't bounce too far off the cock of a pony that was brutalizing her from behind. With a mane like that, she had to be a swallower too, else she was sure to get it all kinds of messy while she was going down on somepony.

I stared at the statue, considering. Every other time I had picked up one of these things, my psychosis had gone right ahead and generated a little pony in my head that looked just like them. Yellow Bitch and Orange Cunt had been rather scarce for the last week or so, but I was sure they'd pop up eventually at some point. Probably when it was most inconvenient.

Come to think of it, last night with Foxglove would have been exactly the sort of time I would have expected Yellow Bitch to try and sour a perfectly wonderful moment. Huh...

In any case, having a hot unicorn whore prancing around in my head would be a welcome change of pace. I could practice my fantasies on her in my head so that I'd have them all nice and properly planned out for my little fuck toy in the real world.

I scooped up the little statue and peered at the words inscribed on its base: Be Unwavering.

Hmm. I planned on doing quite a few things; and certainly wasn't intending to waver in the face of them. Speaking of things I'd be doing in the face, it was long past time I got with Foxglove. The pegasus was bound to return at some point.

Dumping the safe's contents into my own saddlebags, I left the office and returned to where I had left the unicorn mare fawning over the cache of tools that she'd found. Curiously enough, Foxglove was no longer anywhere near the toolbench that she had initially trotted over to. It also looked as though every piece of equipment was still in its proper place. Had she not elected to take a single thing? Odd. Glancing around, I soon found that Foxglove had discovered a working radio, and was sat in front of it, nodding her head along with the music that it was currently playing.

It was a tune by the Ink Plots, if I was any judge. Not hard to discern really, as all of their songs had extremely similar sounding melodies. It was like their instrumentalists only knew the one progression of notes and the vocalist had simply chosen to improvise different lyrics around the same tune for each song. I arrived next to her just as the last syllable finished fading away. A moment later, we were graced by the deep baritone of the jovial DJ from Manehattan.

“...and that was the Ink Plots with 'I'm feeling like a Million Bits'; and Wasteland? I'm feeling like a million bits myself, and it's all thanks to that wandering hero of ours: The Lone Ranger.

“Children, allow me to regale you with this steel sentinel's latest exploits: Remember how I was telling you all the other day about the bloat sprite hive that moved in near Arbu? Those poor ponies there nearly had to abandon everything that they had worked so hard to build; as all too many of us can relate to these days. Then, along comes our Lone Ranger with compassion in his heart, and a balefire egg in his launcher.

“Yes children, Arbu was saved, and we have The Lone Ranger to thank for it. A lot of us owe thanks to that pony for all that he's been doing for us. It isn't just monsters either, he's been bringing the Good Fight to Red Eye's doorstep as well.

“One pony children; that's all he is, and look at all that he's doing for us. So if you see that power-armored protector of the Wasteland, do a little something for him.

“And if you're listening Lone Ranger, I'm repeating my offer to drop on by Tenpony Tower so that the two of us can have a proper talk. We'll introduce my little Wasteland ponies to the real Ranger; so that they can see that you don't need to be anypony special to be a hero. All it takes is the conviction to do what you know needs to be done, and do it.

“This is DJ Pon3, asking all my loyal listeners out there to take that first step towards becoming my little rangers, and do what you know needs to be done.

“Next up, it's Daring Bobber with, Beyond the Everfree.”

The DJ was gone from the radio waves, and the aforementioned song replaced him. A slower beat than the number that had preceded it, but not nearly so somber a piece as one might have thought as a result. Foxglove started to hum along with the music until she finally noticed me out of the corner of her eye. The unicorn's mood instantly changed once she registered my proximity. The humming stopped, and I could feel her tense up significantly.

“What do you want?” she asked tersely.

A smirk touched my lips, “done browsing those workbenches already? Figured you's be all over those things.”

“They're fake,” was her short reply before turning back to the radio to continue listening to the music.

I blinked, “they're what?”

“Fake,” she repeated without glancing in my direction, “nothing but plastic and cheap wood.

“The wagons are fake too.”

That surprised me even more somehow. I looked in the direction of the four large wagons that were half taken apart. Those were fakes? They looked real enough to me, and I said as much to the violet unicorn.

She shrugged, “from a distance you'd never know; but those aren't any kind of real freight wagon. They're built out of particle board and plastic; just like the tools. I doubt they could carry more than a hundred pounds without snapping in two.”

“But what about all of those crates with metal and cloth?” I pointed out.

“Check again,” the mare nodded in their direction, “there's about one or two layers of actual material in those boxes. The rest is a false bottom.”

One of the crates in question was only a few paces away, and I could already see where somepony had shifted the contents. I stepped over and looked inside. Sure enough, a few inches down was the bottom of the crate. What would have looked like a box containing over a hundred heavy bolts of fabric might have had a half dozen in it. The containers with the metal ingots were no different. What would these ponies have been doing operating a fake shipping company? I had read the messages that suggested this place had been a part of the old ministry operations; but why make the company fake? If none of these wagons ever went anywhere, wouldn't that have drawn even more suspicion; especially during a time when transporting equipment and war material was so important?

No wonder the world ended with ponies like that calling the shots. I shook my head in resignation and wandered back over to Foxglove.

“Windfall's out,” I mentioned, stepping close behind the mare. She leaned away from me slightly, and I saw her ears flatten out slightly, “I figure we can get in a quickie before she gets back,” this managed to at least draw a glare from the unicorn, “I'm fine with doing the work this time, in the spirit of being fair,” my smile broadened, even as Foxglove's grew more dour, “just go on and lay down and we can get started,” I started to brush her tail aside with my hoof.

Instead of laying down though, the mare shot to her hooves and turned to face me. She favored me with a scowl, being very conscious about keeping her backside facing as away from me as she could manage. Now my own smile was gone as well. I didn't have time for the unicorn's stubborn games again. The pegasus was going to be returning any minute, and I wasn't sure how I'd be able to convince her to leave again for any significant amount of time.

“Foxy, we've been over this-”

“There've been some changes since then,” the unicorn informed me tersely.

My frown morphed into a genuine scowl now as well. Changes? Since last night? That was just over twelve hours ago. What sort of changes could possibly have happened in that short span of time?

Foxglove didn't wait for me to ask the question before delving into more detail, “Windfall and I had a nice long talk about her feelings for you while we were tracking down those bounty hunters,” I was already not liking where this was going, “we talked about appropriate ways for ponies like you two to show affection; as well as the impracticality of you two starting a romantic relationship.”

“Who said anything about romance,” I spat, “I'm just interested in fucking somepony today; and I refuse to believe that you've managed to change her mind about her letting me get under her tail in one evening,” there it was. That momentary crinkle in her determined expression. Foxglove probably wasn't outright lying; I did believe that she would have spoken to the pegasus in an effort to get out of our deal by removing Windfall from the equation. However, if the flier had been willing to let 'me' mount her at McMaren just a week ago, there was no way the unicorn had changed Windfall's desires anywhere near enough for her to outright turn me down.

Maybe I'd need to coax the pegasus more than I would have had to before; but I was sure I could make a few innocent enough sounding suggestions that would allow things to escalate. Fathers and daughters kissed, didn't they? Maybe not on the lips, but then again, I wasn't really her father; so a little peck on the lips was okay. In fact, why stop at a little peck? We'd been through too much for our relationship to be summed up by a quick peck. We deserved a real kiss together. Real kisses also involved an embrace; and didn't my hoof gently rubbing the back of your neck feel really nice? Something that feels this nice can last a little longer than some kisses. It will feel even nicer if I kiss your neck a little bit...

I wasn't saying I could get Windfall all the way to a good fucking or even a genuine hoof-job that first time; but a good groping was sure to be in the cards. The next time would only go further...

Foxglove hadn't made anywhere near the progress with Windfall that she'd have needed to stop the pegasus from soon submitting. She was trying to bluff me in an effort to weasel out of the deal; and after juts the one night too! That scheming bitch. Did she really think I was going to let her off the hook with one little half-assed bathtub suck? Fuck that! I was getting a piece of her tight purple flank, and I didn't have a lot of time to waste playing mind games with her.

“Stop acting like you're above this sort of thing,” I growled at the mare, “you already told us your little sob story about fucking for chems. Is that what you want? A little Dash or Med-X or something? Fuck, I can give you chems if that's what it'll take to get at your slit.”

“Fuck you!” the unicorn spat, taking another step back.

“Do we really have to go over all of this again?!” was my aggravated response, “you whine, I threaten to fuck Windfall instead, you give in because you have a mare-crush on her or some bullshit, the end; now we fuck!

“Is this seriously how it's going to be every time with you?”

“Never again, you asshole,” she snarled at me, “and you'll never get the Windfall either. Not while I'm around. You even try, and I'll make sure she sees what kind of monster you really are!”

That did it. I was mad now, “oh, you haven't seen the monster yet, you little cunt,” I said, seething through gritted teeth. I was so over this bullshit. My eyes locked on the mare, I started approaching her. Foxglove cowered away, her resolve noticeably shaking in the face of my obvious wrath, “I was going to be gentle before; but you're getting wrecked when I catch you now!”

That was enough to shatter whatever brave front Foxglove had been managing to prop up to this point. The mare outright turned and ran now, galloping for the exit. I vaulted after her. She might have been younger than I was; but I had the longer gait, and muscles that had been strengthened by decades of hard living in a Wasteland that killed any who were too weak to conquer its trials. Foxglove had grown up in a stable, and then lived in moderate comfort within the boundaries of New Reino until just recently. She had neither the speed, nor the stamina, to outrun me. A powerful leap soon put me over the mare, and planted firmly between her and the door to the outside.

The unicorn scrambled madly in an effort to turn about and get to safety. However, she was as nimble as she was fast, which meant that she was far too slow to come about to hope to escape me. I wasn't very inclined to go for the quick resolution right now though. Foxglove had pissed me off. I was owed recompense. So instead of tackling her to the ground and pinning her like I could have, I instead opted to throw my weight behind a vicious headbutt aimed at her ribs. The mare grunted and went sprawling to the ground a dozen feet away.

Foxglove groaned with pain as she struggled to get back up. I was still in no particular hurry to cut her suffering short. Windfall's blip was still nowhere to be seen on my Eyes Forward Sparkle. There was time enough yet for me to play with this mare a little bit longer before I plowed her. I walked towards her, my hooves clopping noisily on the ancient cement floor of the warehouse. The sounds drew the violet mare's attention, her head whipping in my direction. The sight of the overwhelming fear in her eyes brought a grin to my face.

That's right, bitch; you done fucked up and now you're going to pay the price!

The unicorn's stance was unsteady when she finally got up. It was taking her some noticeable effort to breath as a result of the blow that I had delivered. She reverted to backing away with her attention focused on me instead of trying to run away. I guess she hadn't really thought that I would actually hurt her until just now.

Her horn began to glow, and a nearby piece of one of the wagons hovered over in front of her, acting as a makeshift barrier between the two of us. I whirled around and struck out with my hind legs, delivering a fierce double buck. I will admit that I was a little surprised at how much destruction the strike wrought on the wooden panel. Instead of snapping into a few large pieces like I had anticipated that it would, the section of bulkhead exploded into a shower of sawdust and debris. These wagons were unbelievably flimsy, just as Foxglove had said.

Once more I was facing the unicorn, bearing down on her. My eyes raked over her body, hungrily. A tasty younger version of Saffron that I was going to have all to myself in just another minute or two, “one last chance, bitch,” I was smiling, but there was no levity in my tone, “give me what I want, and maybe I won't even kill you when I'm done.”

That ultimatum had a profound effect on the unicorn. Any semblance of composure that she had managed to cling to vanished in an instant. Hers was now a state that I knew all too well. I had seen it on the faces of hundreds of ponies that I had slaughtered in my youth. This mare was staring down a White Hoof, and she had no hope of escape.

“What is wrong with you?” she quailed, continuing to back away. The mare was moving into a corner though. I wasn't certain that she even realized how little time she had before she was finally caught and all of this ended for her, “why are you doing this?!”

“Because I'm sick and tired of traipsing around this Wasteland next to two delicious pieces of flank and not getting any of it,” I snarled back at the unicorn. What a stupid question. I'd told her exactly why I was doing this.

“I don't understand,” Foxglove insisted, her tone still trembling. I thought I had stated things rather plainly. No matter, I intended to arrange a demonstration for the unicorn in the next few seconds, “just a couple weeks ago you were trying to convince me to look after Windfall because you didn't think you deserved to be around her. What changed?”

I did remember the talk that the two of us had had that night, just after Windfall had been severely injured by her tussle with the hell hound. Looking back, it hardly even felt like a real memory though. I knew that I'd said the words; but the whole reason that had prompted me to was...absent from my mind. I couldn't conceive of any sequence of events that would have prompted me to just walk away from the pegasus at that time. Windfall had not yet learned the truth about me, and still worshiped the ground that I walked on. She would have sucked my cock if I asked her to without a second though; and then probably thanked me for gagging her while I held her head down when I came.

“That was just a lapse in judgment,” I snorted, slowly guiding the unicorn's steps deeper into the corner of the warehouse.

“And then when you were about to let Windfall kill you, because you thought that was what you deserved?” the violet mare insisted.

I hesitated, a frown spreading across my face. I recalled that moment too, actually. Admittedly, this one puzzled me a little more than the last. What would have possessed me to come close to allowing something like that? What had I cared that the little pegasus' feelings had been hurt?

There was a brief mental flash of something black that made me wince, but I was able to quickly shake it away. My focus returned to the unicorn mare in front of me, “stop stalling!” I snarled.

“You cared about her,” Foxglove continued, despite my warning. A little note of renewed defiance had found its way into her words; as though the mare thought that she was making some sort of progress that would benefit her. How wrong she was.

In one swift motion, I crossed the remaining distance between us with a leap that caught the unicorn by her shoulders and pinned her up against the wall. My knife was in my mouth now as well, held fast against the flesh of her throat. The mare gasped in surprise, not expecting the sudden surge of motion. I applied enough pressure with the blade to make Foxglove aware of the weapon, and the threat that it posed to her life if she struggled too much.

“One more word, and I'll cut out your tongue,” I seethed around the hilt clutched in my mouth. I craned my neck and brought my nostrils closer to her mane, taking in her scent. Unicorns always smelled so good!

Both of us were standing on our hind legs now, Foxglove's backside propped up against the wall of the warehouse. It would be awkward to fuck her in this stance, but I was hesitant to let her down lest she try and break free. Before I could really work out the mechanics that would be involved trying to take the mare like we were, I was distracted by a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. A glimpse of silver and green that was moving very quickly in my direction. It was then that I noticed the green aura surrounding Foxglove's horn.

Fuck! I whipped around, lashing out with a hoof. My strike succeeded in deflecting away the unicorn's eldrich lance. The Old World cutting tool struck the nearby wall instead, and then proceeded to pass clean through it, spitting out a short burst of sparks and flecks of molten steel. The lance had been powered on. I turned back quickly to the unicorn, and saw that she was already taking advantage of my momentary distraction and trying to escape once more.

“I'm going to break off that horn and fuck you up the ass with it!” I raged at the mare as I gave chase. When I was done with this bitch, I'd probably just go ahead and cut her head off with the lance. It'd serve her right!

As before, the mare's speed proved far inferior to my own and I was back on her in seconds. Foxglove screamed and flailed, but her strikes were frantic and uncoordinated. There was no technique to speak of behind them, and so it was a trifle to bat them aside and deliver the occasional, calculated, blow of my own. She cried out with every solid hit that I landed, but her horn continued to glow. I aimed my next strike at the base of her skull; but never got the chance to land it.

The sound of rending metal drew my attention just in time to see the unicorn's eldrich lance slicing its way back into the building and once more rocketing directly for me. I was forced to abandon my position over the mare and jump away as the weapon sailed past. Foxglove clambered back onto her feet, but she didn't try and run again. She was smart enough to recognize the futility in that. I just wondered if she was smart enough to give up now and make this a painless process.

Not that I had any inclination to make this painless for her, or even let her live after what she'd just put me through. I didn't have to tell her any of that though, “one last chance,” I growled at the mare.

The lance floated over and positioned itself in front of me. The cutting end was sputtering with its bead of magical energy; though I did notice that it was a far sight dimmer than I recalled it being in the past. This device, like most arcane tech of the Old World, was powered off of spark-batteries; which meant it had a limited lifespan. I didn't have all of the time in the world to stall though. A quick glance around suggested that Windfall wasn't going to be back in the next minute; but we were fast approaching when she was going to finish her sweep of the surrounding area. I probably didn't have the time to wait out Foxglove's lance.

I did have the skills to deal with it though. Magical cutting torch or not, it was still very much like most melee weapons in that, as long as you avoided getting caught by the dangerous end, you had little to fear from it even at close range.

“Don't make me kill you,” Foxglove begged.

I actually laughed out loud, “as if you could,” I charged the mare.

She swung the lance with her telekinetic field, aiming for a deep slice across my shoulder. The mare could have opted for a cut to my throat in an effort to put me down for good, and her reluctance was going to cost her dearly. With a jerk of my head, I brought the knife clutched in my teeth to meet the metal shaft of the lance. The striking of metal on metal echoed through the warehouse. Another flick of my neck sent the lance up into the air with enough force to break it free from the unicorn's magical grasp.

Foxglove was disarmed now, helpless before me. The fear in her eyes confirmed that she knew it too. I let the momentum of my charge carry me into the unicorn's chest, pitching her over and onto her back where I landed on top of her. Now this was a position that I could work with. My knife was once more at her throat. This time I allowed the honed edge to draw blood. I wasn't going to open up her neck in any sort of lethal fashion just yet; as fucking a corpse had no appeal for me. However, Foxglove needed to know how badly she had fucked up.

“You're mine now, bitch,” I said in her ear around the hilt of the knife. My hips worked quickly to get into a good position. Windfall was going to be back any minute...

“Ghrk!” the unicorn grunted. Tears were forming in the corner of her eyes. That was right, you unicorn cunt, cry for me!

“get...off!” there was a green flash, and then I was suddenly airborne.

The powerful telekinetic blast was not something that I had anticipated. To be honest, I didn't know that unicorns were capable of moving whole ponies with their magic. Not that Foxglove was actively manipulating me in the same manner that she had been waving around her lance a few seconds ago. This was more like the magical equivalent of a shove; albeit with a lot more power behind it.

I must have arced over thirty feet through the air before crashing back down into one of the piecemeal wagons. I was suddenly very thankful for the cheap construction, as it acted to help cushion my fall as the roof and walls of the wagon gave way with only token resistance. I lay still for a moment, still processing what had just happened. My knife was gone, that much I knew. No matter, I didn't need it to kill the mare. I was actually looking forward to doing it with my bare hooves now.

If I fucked her corpse right after I killed her, it should still be warm enough to feel like she was alive, right?

My fur felt wet and matted for some reason. I glanced around and noticed that there had been something in this wagon. Hard to know exactly what it had been before I landed directly on top of it, but there had been a lot of them and they had been filled with yellow-colored goo. Yuck. I was not looking forward to having to wash that out later. Though I might as well take care of it at the same time I was going to be washing Foxglove's blood out of my coat too. There wasn't any blood now of course; but there was going to be a lot of it when I'd finished with that unicorn cunt.

I rolled onto my hooves and got a better look at what I had landed in. Some sort of nest, it looked like. All of the eggs that it had contained were broken now as a result of my impact. A few carcasses were visible too. Radscorpions. Awesome. It looked like that one earlier had been a mommy. Glad I wiped these things out while they were all still contained in their little eggs. Judging by how well developed the squished creatures were, they had not been far from hatching; which would have caused us all sorts of troubles if we'd still been here when they did it.

I extracted myself from the wagon's interior and face the unicorn once more. She was on her hooves again, and had managed to recover my knife and her lance. Both were hovering before her, poised to fend me off if I attacked again. Rather, I should say, when I attacked again. This mare was so far below my league that I was not at all concerned about her armed status when compared to my lack of weapons. I mean, I had Full Stop and my 9mm; but those would deprive me of the fun of beating her to death with my own two hooves. You couldn't feel bones breaking when you shot somepony. Nor could you strangle the life out of them with bullets while you were thrusting inside them.

A grin spread across my face as I once more began approaching the unicorn mare, “that one's going to cost you,” I informed her.

“Stay away from me,” her words trembled in her mouth as Foxglove backed away once more.

“You're not a fighter, and you know it,” I said, not the least bit swayed by the weapons she possessed, “your a fuck-toy. So lay down fuck-toy. Remember your place.”

“Stay away,” her lance lurched at me in an effort to intimidate; but I could see that its tip barely glowed at all now. It was little more the a stick that could barely cause a wound more serious than a cigar burn, “don't make me kill you!”

“Kill me, and you'll have to explain to Windfall why you did it,” I pointed out, “and I have to wonder if she'd even believe you. She loves me, remember?

“Not that you have the balls to kill me anyway,” my grin faded. I tired of this game. I'd already won it, and I wanted my prize, “just lay down and I'll-ahshit!”

I reeled and bucked as I felt something sharp pinch my backside. What the fuck?! Something flew off and landed nearby. I glanced down at the partially mangled corpse of a tiny little radscorpion. It had been rather severely crushed by my earlier landing, but it was still twitching a good deal. With a disgusted snort, I used my hoof to finish it off. For something so tiny, it sure packed a punch! My backside felt like I'd been bucked by a mule...

I shook off my hoof and returned my attention to the mare once more, “like I was saying,” I began once more, “just lay down, lift your tail, and I won't have to hurt you any more,” I was still going to kill you when I was finished though. You've earned that much.

Man, that sting was starting to burn a little bit now. Did we have any Med-X left?

“I swear I'll kill you, you bastard,” the unicorn insisted, even as she continued to back away, “I can make Windfall understand.”

“Are you sure about that?” I asked, hiding a wince as the movement of my hip started to aggravate the site where the radscorpion had gotten me, “what if she flies away and leaves you out here alone? How long will you survive out here, hm?” wow, that was really starting to burn, like, a lot!

“She won't abandon me,” the unicorn insisted, still keeping her distance.

I grunted, trying to work through the pain that only seemed to be growing exponentially. Where was...I needed something for this. What did I have in my saddlebags for stings? “she might though,” I managed in a distracted tone as I shrugged my saddlebags off my back and started pawing through them, “are you a betting pony?” did I not have any healing potions left? I didn't even have any Dash, what gives? I always kept a couple ampules around.

My gaze flashed to the unicorn, “did you hock my stuff?!”

The unicorn hesitated at the abrupt change in topic, but eventually answered, “you left us with a lot of things to pay for in New Reino,” she pointed out, “the room, the food, the damage; we had to sell most of our gear to cover it all.”

Damn it, “give me a healing potion,” I demanded, “I know you still have a couple somewhere,” it was getting harder to concentrate, and I knew that my demeanor was starting to show the pain that I was in. I'd even had to stop walking because my joints felt like they were all on fire. I glared at the unicorn, who had not moved in response to my demand, “I said give me a healing potion!”

I shouldn't have yelled. That had been a mistake. Not because it had put Foxglove off any more than she already had been. After what I'd just put her through, it's not like she could have had a lower opinion of me. However, yelling was apparently something that aggravated my injury. The pain was now so much that I couldn't even remain standing and slumped to the floor. I hissed as the burning sensation continued to spread. I felt like I had a fever and could feel myself sweating even as I lay on the cold cement of the warehouse.

“Potion,” I gasped through clenched teeth, glaring at the unicorn through bleary eyes, “now!”

Foxglove looked down at me with a detached expression that I found more than a little unsettling. She actually ventured a little closer to me for the first time since I'd confronted her. Her eyes looked over my body, still a little hesitant to get too close at first. Then she decided that I wasn't much of a threat to her anymore. Damn that unicorn if she wasn't right too. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't have hurt her if I tried. It actually hurt just to breath.

The unicorn mare bent down and glanced at the screen of my pipbuck. Then she stood back up and looked at me, “no.”

“What?” I gasped. The act of talking hurt too.

“No. No potion,” the violet pony informed me, “it wouldn't help anyway. You need antivenom; and we don't have any. You're dying.”

A spasm wracked my body, as though it had needed to actually hear her say the words before the poison knew what it would ultimately do to me. I gasped and cried out as a result of the spasm, despite myself, “fuck...that!”

Foxglove sighed, becoming visibly more relaxed, “thank Celestia...”

I could understand why she felt so relieved. I'd been removed as an immediate threat, and would soon no longer be able to pose a threat to her ever again; and the best part—from her point of view—was that she would have the perfect alibi when the pegasus showed back up. There was nothing that could be done to save my life. I would die, the pegasus would be upset, but the unicorn would be there to comfort her, and be seen as blameless in what had happened.

Fucking bullshit! This was such fucking bullshit! After everything I'd been through, I was going to be killed by a half dead baby radscorpion?! No! I refuse!

My body did not seem to really care very much what my mind was insisting though. There were more spasms, and a lot more pain. My vision blurred, and my hearing became muffled. I didn't even know if I was making audible sounds anymore as I continued to curse the unicorn and rail against my impending death.

Oh, sure now you cling to life, a familiar, and wholly unwanted voice drifted in, nothing like a little foiled rape to get the blood boiling.

Oh, horseapples. What do you want? Where are you, anyway? I can usually see you when your speaking.

Right here, dumbass.

I glanced around behind me, where it had sounded like the voice had come from. Only to jump as I found myself facing a grinning horror clad in a shiny black shell with pale blue eyes. I reflexively flinched away, and when I looked back, there was nothing there at all. I'd always been crazy, as far as I knew; but I had never managed to actually scare myself before. What was going on?

You're dying, remember? For Celestia's sake, it's only been a minute.

If dying means that you'll finally shut up, then maybe it won't be so bad.

“Jackboot!”

The word was distant and soft. I almost didn't hear it at all. Looking around, I tried to find the source, only to once more glimpse only something with translucent wings that screeched as it darted past me and vanished into the void surrounding me. I turned around in a full circle, staring off into the darkness that existed all around. What was that thing? Whiplash?

Miss me?

Again the words sounded like they had come from directly behind me. Slowly, I turned my head. Jagged rows of black fangs dripping with green tinged bile filled my vision. Without meaning to, I screamed and jumped away. The sight vanished from sight, but I didn't feel like it was really gone.

Who are you?

I'm who I've always been, came the response in Whiplash's voice, the pony you knew you really were.

I took a deep breath and let it out. Whiplash had fucked with me before. Should it really surprise me that she had found a whole new way to do it? Who knew what that poison was doing to my brain while it was killing me. This was all just because of that.

Is it?

The words were once more coming from directly behind me. I didn't turn around this time though. I wasn't going to give Whiplash the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. I was going to die with dignity, damn it!

Are you so sure you're going to die? Whiplash asked, because I think you're about to wake up...

My eyes snapped open.

The darkness was gone, as was the sound of Whiplash's voice. I was laying on the cement floor of the warehouse. My joints didn't burn any more, and breathing came easy once again. I glanced at the screen of my pipbuck. All indications were that I was a healthy pony again. The answer to the question of how lay nearby, in the form of an empty syringe. Where had that come from? Foxglove had said that none of our group had any medicine that could help me...

Somepony was sobbing nearby. Testing the extent of my recovery, I slowly rose up to my hooves. There was no pain, and only a mild discomfort that could be attributed to my earlier tussle with the unicorn. Speaking of the violet mare, it turned out that she was the one who was crying. The reason was immediately evident as well. Clutched in her hooves, was Windfall.

The white pegasus was in rough shape. Blood matted the fur of half her body, soaking through the bandages that she had been wrapped it. Her wings hung limply at her side, and the young flier seemed completely oblivious to the unicorn mare that was weeping over her. She wasn't dead though. Two blips hovered in front of my eyes.

Foxglove was rocking slowly, holding the pegasus tight in her hooves. All around her were other bandages that must have at one time been white in color; but were now so stained with blood that one could be forgiven for thinking some company had been distributing scarlet rolls of gauze. The flier's weapons lay nearby on the ground, but I could see no sign of her barding or saddlebags.

“What happened to her?”

The unicorn flinched at my question, her sobs catching in her throat. She didn't immediately look at me though, “I hate you so much,” she said in a trembling voice. It was not fear that colored her words this time though, it was grief, “why couldn't you have died quicker?”

My lip curled in a sneer, and I was about to bark something rather unkind at the unicorn, but she continued on, oblivious to my irritation, “she came back just after you collapsed,” Foxglove explained, “before I could stop her, she flew away promising to be back with some antivenom.

“I thought about killing you so many times while she was gone,” the mare half-glanced over her shoulder, her lips curling back in a sneer of her own. Then she looked back at Windfall, “but that wouldn't bring her back any faster.

“I don't even know how she made it,” the mare nuzzled the pegasus' blood-soaked neck, “she was barely conscious when she stumbled in the door, the antivenom in her mouth. There was...so much blood...”

“Aren't the healing potions doing anything?” I asked, rolling my eyes. Windfall was just a little shot up. Enough potions would set her right.

“We only had one,” the unicorn spat, “and it only closed a couple of the wounds,” she shook her head slowly, “I did what I could with some bandages, but she's still bleeding internally, and I can't stop it...” her head whipped around now, her eyes were full of tears; and her face was a mask of rage, “and you don't even care!”

I glanced back at the empty syringe that had been laying next to me when I'd woken up, “she did her job,” I pointed out. The whole reason that I'd kept the pegasus around was to keep me alive one way or the other, after all. Foxglove didn't seem to particularly care for that answer. Whatever. The two of us had unfinished business anyway. I focused my gaze on the violet unicorn and started walking towards her...

...then stopped short when a pair of submachine guns swooped down in front of me. They were enveloped in an emerald haze, and I saw and heard their cocking levers leap back and then release, chambering fresh rounds. Foxglove was still glaring at me. I frowned at the mare, “if you're just going to shoot me anyway, then why'd you even give me the antivenom?” it certainly hadn't been the pegasus that had treated me, I reasoned.

“I gave you the medicine because Windy...” the mare's voice caught for a moment as she tried to get out the words, “Windy made me promise,” the floating automatic weapons stayed where they were, both barrels trained clearly on my head, “but she didn't make me promise not to kill you afterwards.”

For several tense moments, neither of us moved on spoke. I was half-expecting the unicorn to put me down right then and there. The look in her eyes suggested that she strongly desired to do just that, “so. Now what?”

“Leave,” Foxglove finally said, “just leave, and never come near me again. If I ever see you, I'll fucking kill you, you worthless piece of shit!”

Well, now that was just unkind; but I was in no position to fight the mare, armed as she was. Honestly, there was nothing to gain by sticking around anyway. Windfall was clearly going to be dead in a few hours, if even that long; and with the flier's death, my prior hold on the unicorn disappeared as well. This was the nail in the coffin of what constituted my gains in the Neighvada valley. No caps, no place to stay, and no loyal stooge. It was like the clock had been turned back eight years.

Oh, well.

I smirked at the unicorn. She probably wasn't going to last much longer either. She wasn't a Wasteland survive like Windfall and I had been, and she was deep in the wilderness now. I gave good odds that she'd die before making it back to New Reino from here. Which, in a roundabout way, was sort of a victory for me, I guess. It didn't get me anything tangible; but I enjoyed the thought that I'd outlive her all the same.

“Fine by me,” I nodded at Foxglove one last time and set about collecting my things; careful not to move any closer to the unicorn and her hovering arsenal. When I had my barding and saddlebags all strapped together and was ready to go, I headed for the exit, “try to die all slow and painful like!”

As I trotted out into the Wasteland, I heard the sound of one of the submachine guns opening up. My body tensed for a brief second until I heard the accompanying sound of wood being splintered. The smirk returned, as I realized that the unicorn was venting her frustrations on one of the wagons. She had very much wanted to shoot me dead, and I know that I would have in her place; but her sentiment for the flier's last wishes had won out in the end. Foxglove had let me live, and she was going to hate herself for the rest of her life for doing it.

I shook my head, smiling to myself as I envisioned her furious expression and renewed sobbing over the dying Windfall. Sentiment...worthless.

When my head rose again, it was to take in a deep breath and look about my surroundings. Here we were again: nothing to my name that wasn't on my back, and a dwindling list of places that I was still welcome. What had I narrowed my options down to again? Oh, right: south. My eyes tracked the compass that hovered in my field of vision until the little 'S' was centered.

Zebrica, here I come...

Footnote:...

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