“Well... how do you like our little town? Bored yet?”

It was two days—and a third healing potion—before I was well enough to walk for any significant length of time. Windfall had ceased the worst of her crying by the next day, settling instead for sitting around staring at the floor without speaking. She communicated exclusively through nods and shrugs for the duration of our stay at the farmhouse. The most constructive thing she did during my convalescence was to dig up a small cloak from a trunk and drape it over her back. She made certain that it completely covered her new cutie mark.

Not, I discovered later, because she was worried about what others might think when they saw it; but because she herself could not stand to look at it. Seeing the silver sword appear on her flank after killing the unicorn buck had traumatized the little pegasus more than the actual death had, I think. She'd must have lived some sort of sheltered life on that ranch; she was hardly in the minority where brutal marks were concerned.

My own mark, which was hidden by my barding, was a spiked black horseshoe. I remember the day I gotten it: beating another foal to death under the watchful eye of my father. A sort of right of passage thing. It had been a very proud day for him. I had been pretty happy too. It wasn't often that my father showed any outward signs of approval of anything me or my sister had done; so hearing him state how satisfied he was with my performance had filled me with a sense of accomplishment. I'd strutted out of that ring with my blood-splattered head held high.

Some ponies are just good at killing. There isn't anything wrong with that. Someday Windfall would come to realize that.

On the morning of the third day, I decided that we'd best be on our way to Seaddle. I cleared out the house of everything of value that was economical to take with us and shut down the defense grid just to be on the safe side. For the briefest of moments, I had entertained the idea of staying. Then I'd quickly dismissed the notion. I knew less than nothing about farming, let alone how to maintain any of the equipment that was necessary to keep the crops healthy. And while I doubted the buck had a lot of company stopping by on a regular basis, somepony was bound to come around eventually who knew him; and then they'd know that something was wrong.

Seaddle wasn't like a lot of places back east: there was organized region-wide law enforcement; especially this deep into Commonwealth—NLR—territory. An actual investigation would be conducted, and a lot of questions would be asked. Even if they didn't charge me with anything immediately, all they had to do was bring me in for questioning and peak under my barding. After that, a short jaunt over to the gallows and then Windfall would wind up under somepony else's care.

Shit, my barding. It was pretty shredded, but that wasn't the real problem. The bigger issue was that I had to be very careful about who saw me without it, or something else, over my back. Windfall was just about the only pony I knew here that I could be naked around without raising an alarm; and that was only because I hadn't let her back into her house where she might have seen the white symbol painted on the interior wall.

Fuck! I couldn't even hook up with any of the local whores!

Life here was going to suck.

I may have been recovered enough to continue our trip, but that didn't mean I was able to maintain anywhere near the pace we had been keeping to before. What should have been a two day trip took nearly five. Fortunately, we weren't short on food or water rations for the remainder of the trek to the Seaddle Ruins. Even if we had been, we would have been able to top off from the caravans that shared the road with us. They'd increased dramatically in frequency the closer we got to the city.

I got a few concerned looks because of my wounds, and one or two asked if I'd received them as a result of recent White Hoof or bandit activity in the area. I would respond with “bandits”, and Windfall would wince, keeping her eyes cast downward.

Her silence actually began to get to my nerves by the time we reached sight of the city's gates. The filly may not have been a chatterbox before, but she'd been a steady source of conversation at least. Not talking during a trek I could deal with. I'd spent enough time traveling on my own to be used to quiet; but I was a little put off by traveling in silence while another pony was with me.

Not every trip I'd undertaken back east had been on my own. Every once in a while, a caravan was willing to hire on freelance guards for decent pay, and I'd taken those jobs if they were heading somewhere I wanted to go. I'd conversed on those journeys. Traders got nervous when the pony they hired to keep them safe from dangers out in the Wastes wouldn't share so much as a single kind word. And now I could see why.

This was...unsettling.

Even when we reached sight of the gates, and I announced to her that we'd arrived; all I received back was a morose shrug. I pretty much gave up trying to extract a reaction from her then. She could be depressed for the rest of her life at this point. Let some slaver deal with her pouting.

Hopefully. The topic of slavery's presence in Seaddle wasn't something I could easily broach, even with the traders we'd been passing. Too risky. If Luna had outlawed it, then asking about it with a filly in tow would have probably raised some curious eyebrows.

What I had decided was that, if my original intent was a no-go, then I'd simply cut my losses and send her on her way. I'd acquired plenty of bits from the farmer, and a few valuable pieces of equipment to sell. I really didn't even need her anymore. I had told her I'd take her to Seaddle, and I had. Where she went from here was none of my concern.

Seaddle wasn't a place that was so very different from places back east when it came to physical appearance. Like Flank, or New Appaloosa, the settled regions of the Old World metropolis were enclosed by walls and barricades designed to fend off the less desirable monsters and bandits. A couple gates served to funnel traffic in and out of the city. What was different was the décor of the guard ponies who patrolled along the tops of the walls. They were uniform in their dress, seeing as how they all wore genuine uniforms. Though, the style had changed a fair bit from what I remembered.

Once upon a time, the soldiers of the Seaddle Commonwealth had dressed in khaki barding with yellow trim. The tan tones to blend in with the generally dusty surroundings, and the yellow accents as an homage to their stable dwelling origins. Commonwealth soldiers had been one of the few truly regimented armies that I'd ever seen in the Wasteland, and they had dressed the part.

Now, the uniforms I saw leaned heavily towards the indigo side of the color spectrum, with jet black trims and silver insignias. Banners spaced along the walls that had once depicted a running brown pony on a field of white, now flapped in the wind with a white crescent moon framed by silver wings over a dark blue backing. The Commonwealth was dead, and in its place the New Lunar Republic had risen from the ashes; here to stay.

I would admit this, the new uniforms were certainly more intimidating in their appearance.

Passing through the front gates of Seaddle was a bit of a shock from how things happened out east. Nopony asked me for a toll. The reason for this was that the government was collecting taxes from the residents and businesses inside the city, so they didn't really need to get bits off of ponies coming through the gates. Seeing the inside of the city was an eye-opener too.

While significant sections of the outer wall were cobbled together from rubble and large pieces of scrap, the buildings on the inside were an eclectic mixture of the old and the new. Buildings that had endured both the war and the centuries of time that followed had been converted from their original purpose to suite whatever was needed, be it homes or businesses. Those structures that had not held up quite so well had been torn down and new buildings erected in their place. Most using actual construction materials and proper engineering techniques.

You could easily spot which buildings had been built during which era though, as the current generation of inhabitants were not as stylistically inclined as their ancestors had been; but the inner workings of Seaddle at least didn't look like the converted scrapyard that a lot of places back east had. Though, to be fair, Seaddle was a bit of an exception out west as well. The trading post Windfall and I had passed through a week ago was a lot more typical of the style that one could expect to find in the Neighvada region of Old Equestria.

Seaddle's edge came from the skilled labor that the city had absorbed from the surrounding stables.

Though, it was more than the construction that set this city apart from what I had learned to expect during my time back east.

Ponies here seemed...content? It felt odd to see. For a few reasons. I knew that there was a war going on, I'd heard it on the radio, both at the trading outpost and the farm house during our stay. But the ponies going about their life here didn't seem to care. Then there was how clean the place looked. The roads appeared to be competently maintained, the pot holes filled in with gravel and sand. Shops were painted and well kept.

At least the sight of the bustling city finally seemed to get a reaction out of the despondent filly walking at my side. She hadn't said anything, but I could tell from her slack jaw and wide eyes, that she was certainly impressed. I doubted that she had even considered that this many ponies existed in the entire world, let alone in one single city.

I caught sight of a large bulletin board just off to the side of the main avenue that was utterly plastered with notices. Most of the papers looked to have been tacked on there by random ponies looking to advertise services and job offers. However, a few were rather large and uniform in size, written in a flowing blue lettering. At the bottom of each was a dark blue circle containing a unicorn horn flanked by spread wings and a crescent moon. Those I took notice of and trotted over to read.

As I'd suspected: royal decrees. A couple dated back years, the paper looking weathered and faded. I was pretty certain of what I'd find, but I read them anyway. Best to be up to date on local policies.

The most recent announced that, in order to support the war effort against the heretical ranger traitors, farmers were required to tithe one quarter of their crop to the Crown for use by the military. I bet that was a popular law. There was a notice about additional taxes to be paid in at the magistrate every month. For the war effort, of course. Then there was...yep.

ON THIS DAY, THE 3RD OF MARCH, HER ROYAL HIGHNESS, PRINESS LUNA, HEREBY DECLARES THAT, FROM THIS DAY FORWARD, THE OWNING AND TRADING OF SLAVES WITHIN THE REPUBLIC SHALL BE FORBIDDEN. ALL SLAVES CURRENTLY HELD IN BONDAGE BY REPUBLIC CITIZENS SHALL BE FREED. THIS DOES NOT APPLY TO THOSE HELD IN SERVITUDE FOR THE RECOMPENSE OF CRIMES COMMITTED, OR UNDER CONTRACT FOR DEBTS OWED...

I sighed. Oh well, I'd figured as much. Fine. I had acquired all the seed money that I would need for my new life here from that unicorn farmer anyway. I really didn't need the filly any more.

Windfall was at my side, looking at an advertisement for quality steel horseshoes. I frowned and dug out a small pile of bits, about fifty or so. It was the least I could do for the pony who'd saved my life and then nursed me back to health. No matter what the brown buck in my head insisted I should do to 'thank' her instead.

I held the bits out to the filly, “I said I'd take you as far as Seaddle, and here we are. See you around, kid.”

Windfall looked up at me in shock, and then down at the offered bits. They'd be enough to feed her for a few days; maybe buy her passage to some other nearby settlement. Slowly, her eyes now looking back down at the street, she reached out an took the money, slipping it into her own small bag.

“Good luck,” I turned to leave. I hadn't taken more than a half dozen steps when an outburst brought me to a halt.

“Take me with you!”

Oh, for Celestia's sake, I thought to myself, don't turn this into a 'thing'. I turned back around to regard the filly with a cool gaze. Figured that she starts talking again now, “why?” I asked her sternly.

I don't know what response she had thought she was going to get from me, but I guess that hadn't been it. She began to stutter, searching for something compelling to say. I took a couple steps towards her, narrowing my eyes at the little pegasus, “what can you do? Can you fly?” I glanced at the cloak that covered her wings. The filly cringed and bowed her head, “no? Can you charm bucks with your amazing 'feminine wiles'?” she recoiled slightly with a look of disgust, “no? Can you shoot? Would you shoot?”

She looked away again.

“I'm not your dad, kid. I appreciate that you helped me before, but I ain't looking to adopt.”

I turned my back on her once more and resumed walking away. I made it three steps this time before she spoke up again.

“Teach me!”

I had been prepared to ignore anything else she said, determined to start my new life here without anymore complications than my brand would already provide me with. Those words though, they made me stop in my tracks. Did she really mean what it sounded like she was asking? I peered back at the filly, “what?”

Windfall bit her lip, hesitant, but then dug up a bit of courage and looked me resolutely in the eye, “teach me how to shoot. Please.”

“I told you, I ain't looking to adopt...”

“I'm asking to be your apprentice, not your daughter,” the filly shot back, discovering a bit of a backbone that it didn't look like she'd even known that she'd had. That at least caught my interest. She'd spent most of our time together behaving timidly and demure. It was an novel experience to see the filly with a determined expression, standing up for something she desired, “I'll pull my own weight. I just need you to show me how.

“I'm...” her words faltered, her blue eyes briefly darting towards her hip, “I'm pretty sure I'll be good at it. Shooting, I mean.”

My mouth opened, about to rebuke her once more...but I hesitated. I wasn't growing soft or anything. That wasn't it. This was the same filly I'd been ready to sell off for a pile of bits just an hour ago; and if the Princess rescinded her decree in the next five minutes, I still would sell her. However, that option was off the table, unless I tracked down some White Hooves, and that would just end up with me dead or wearing a collar too.

What I was considering now was whether or not taking this pegasus on would actually be worth it, in the long run. She wasn't much use now, flukes with violent farmers aside. But she was a pegaus. And a filly besides; which meant that one day, she'd be a full grown mare. If I was any judge, she'd become a pretty one too. Beauty and wings were two big advantages in the Wasteland. Add to those a competence with guns, and I was in a position to eventually have a very capable partner.

I made it a general rule not to associate with other ponies for long periods of time, for the simple reason that I didn't think I'd be able to trust anypony not to turn on me. I'd been bitten pretty sorely in the past because I'd taken the quality of the loyalty in my peers for granted. To say nothing of how many times that I had capitalized on the misplaced trust of others to my own benefit, and their peril. As a result, I considered myself to be practically paranoid when it came to other ponies.

However, Windfall presented me with a very special case. She had a huge incentive not to turn me any time soon: as I would be the only thing keeping her alive, free, and unsoiled until she was of an age and ability to effectively look after herself. After a decade of relying on me for education and training, as well as her own personal safety; I felt confident that I could instill in the young impressionable filly a sense of devotion that was as adamant as anypony could hope to have from a partner.

The little pegasus filly had already shown herself willing to kill in order to protect a relative stranger; imagine what she would do for somepony she actually cared about...

This was definitely a long-term payoff I was looking at though. Closer to a year before she would be barely capable of pulling her own weight. Maybe as long as a decade before she'd be at her full potential as a partner. Even in a region like this, there was no guarantee that I'd survive another decade, let alone a little filly.

Still, she'd proven somewhat of an asset so far. The 'protective father' persona would put other ponies at ease around me—it'd mostly worked on that unicorn back at the farm anyway. I was certain to seem like less of an overt threat at first glance. Ponies that traveled alone; there was a reason for that, and it often put others on their guard almost immediately. A buck traveling with his daughter though; well he was just a father struggling to do what was right in a harsh world. A noble soul. Good ponies trusted noble souls, and the rest underestimated them.

…

“Fine,” I saw relief flood the filly's face. Before the elation could completely overwhelm her, I leaned in close and glared at her, “but you have to do everything I say, understand? No questions, no hesitation. I say hide, you hide. I say shoot, you shoot. You step out of line even once, and I will leave your feathered ass by the side of the road.

“Got it?”

The pegasus somehow managed to grow pale beneath her white coat, her eyes widening in fear. She swallowed and nodded shakily, “got it,” she offered quietly.

Maybe that ultimatum would have sounded harsh to some ponies; but if this filly was going to be in a position where a misstep could get us—and especially me—killed, I felt that imparting the gravity of the situation was important. I pulled my head back and nodded, “we'll see,” I looked around in the direction of the city's main market plaza, “we have some shopping to do.”

The pricing differences for equipment here when compared to what I remembered from Hoofington was amazing. It was like everything had been reversed. Food and water cost hardly anything at all. Hell, there were even cafes that offered free samples or their specials to passing ponies! If a pony in Old Appaloosa offered you free food; even money said that it was drugged and you would wake up wearing a slave-collar.

Conversely, weapons and bullets cost nearly three times what they were back east. The .22 pistol that I bought to teach Windfall basic marksmareship was nearly the cost of what a hunting rifle was in Megamart. Nearly two hundred caps for the pistol and fifty rounds of ammunition. At first I thought I was being taken for a sucker; but if that was the case, then every pony in Seaddle selling guns was in on the scam, because that was actually the best price I found for a decent weapon.

Getting my barding repaired would have to wait apparently, since that cost three times as much as the weaponry. Even with the bits I made from selling the few valuable items I'd taken from the farm, and after buying additional medical supplies and a few...pharmaceuticals, my—our—finances weren't what I would have liked. A few hundred bits, which we'd need for a place to stay while I got her trained up enough to take along on a job.

Oi, jobs. That was something else I needed to look into. There were a couple of caravan guilds in the city that would be willing to hire on a guard. Whether that guard would be allowed to bring along dependents...

Bounties, maybe? They'd be more dangerous, involving actually looking for trouble; but there was at least a higher likelihood that bringing Windfall along could be an initial benefit. Nopony would be looking for a hunter with a kid tagging along.

Prospecting was always an option. Her small size would mean that the filly could get in places that a buck like me just couldn't. Might even find some valuable scrap that was missed in the last two centuries of scavenging.

Well, first things first: teaching Windfall how to shoot ponies in the head with consistency.

We weren't far outside the city. I didn't want to risk being stumbled upon by any wandering bandits or prospectors that were feeling bold. A couple blocks away from the gate, so as not to make the guards too nervous about a couple of ponies firing off rounds. I set up a few tin cans on top of cinder-blocks with a concrete wall as the backdrop. Ten paces away, I passed Windfall the weapon and showed her how to load and chamber the small caliber pistol.

“Now, you want to hold the grip firm in your teeth, but don't chomp down,” I instructed the ivory filly as I stood behind her. I certainly wasn't about to be anywhere even vaguely in the direction that the pistol's barrel was aimed, “when you grind down on it, you start to shake the gun and throw off your shot. But, if you hold it too loosely, the kick of it can make you miss too; and some of the more powerful guns will end up cracking a tooth.”

The pegasus filly shifted her jaw around a little. Experimentally, I nudged the weapon with my hoof. Satisfied, I continued with my instructions, “now, like I explained to you earlier, put the post at the front of the barrel, level with, and in the middle of, the notch on the back,” Windfall closed her left eye, peering down the barrel with her right, “push your tongue against the trigger with steadily increasing pressure. Don't anticipate the shot. Use your lips to absorbed the recoil.

“Fire when you're ready.”

As I looked down at the filly, I saw her reset her jaw a second time. Then a third. She peered down the top of the pistol with such intensity that I was convinced she'd pop her eye right out of its socket. After about a minute and a half, there was a sharp pop, followed immediately by a squeak as the filly jumped. In the distance, I saw a puff of concrete burst from the partially collapsed wall in front of us. The rusted tin can sitting on the cinder block seemed completely oblivious to the fact that it was a target.

Still, not bad for a first attempt. At least she'd hit the wall, “don't be afraid of it. Little thing like that .22 ain't gonna hurt yah. Now, line it up and try again.”

The pegasus filly nodded and set her jaw, lining the barrel up beneath her eye once more. Again, another long, silent, wait as she continually re-sighted and played with the grip in her mouth. Then a second pop.

To her credit, Windfall didn't jump nearly as high this time and refrained from any audible outbursts at all. A second pock-mark erupted into being on the wall. The can once again seemed not intimidated in the least by the filly's efforts. Though, I noted that the second divot had been nearly on top of the first.

“You're pulling high and to the left,” I noted, “try again. Without the jumping please,” I smirked down at the filly.

Twenty rounds later, and the score was Windfall: two; cans: eighteen. The session hadn't been a complete waste of time though. The two hits had been during her last four shots. She was improving. We'd also just about narrowed down her problem too, since she was consistently shooting up and to the left of her target. I had my suspicions that she wasn't lining up the pistol's sights quite right. I'd draw up an illustration later to make sure.

“Put the safety on and eject the magazine,” I told her, “Don't forget tho clear it.”

The filly spat the small .22 onto the ground and looked up at me. As small as the weapon was, it was too much of a mouthful for the little pegasus to speak around coherently, “can't I keep trying? I'm getting closer.”

I shook my head, “we need to get a move on. I don't want to be out here when it gets dark; and I don't know what buildings have already been picked clean,” the contract I'd picked up on our way out the gate was to recover a dozen fresh spark-batteries for use in the city's turret defense grid. It was a government contract, and I got the impression that it was a frequently posted one. I imagine that it took a lot of power to repel Steel Ranger attacks.

The bounty for recovered spark-grenades was outrageous: nearly three hundred caps a piece. If I had known that, I'd have loaded up on the things back in Flank.

“We'll try again tomorrow,” the filly frowned at the other three cans that had withstood her barrage unmarred, “now clear it and let's move on. I think the factory district is another mile to the west. We should find some batteries there.”

Windfall depressed the magazine release and tugged back on the slide. I collected the weapon and ammunition—making a show of setting it to 'safe'—and placed them back into my saddlebags. We started back down the road, the little filly walking close at my side. Fortunately, we hadn't seen anything more threatening than a rad-roach. I didn't expect that little run of luck to last much longer though. Industrial buildings were notorious for housing malfunctioning robots and turrets.

“Jackboot?”

“Yeah?”

The little pegasus paused, as though considering her question, “you used to live here, right?”

I glanced back at the winged foal. She looked like she was regretting her question, afraid it had upset me somehow. I needed her obedient; not terrified. I'd seen what could happen when you taught foals to consider you a threat. Not sure if that was the lesson my father had intended to teach; but...it was one I'd taken to heart.

I needed Windfall to trust me; and that meant that she'd have to know at least something about who I was. Not everything, but some, “yeah. Long time ago.”

“Why'd you leave?” my answer had given her a little more confidence with her questioning.

“...I had a falling out with my family. Sort of kicked me out.”

“They kicked you out of the whole valley?”

“It was a big family.”

“But you're back now?” Obviously, “does that mean you and your family get along again?”

“Nope.”

“So, why'd you come back?”

“A few ponies back east didn't like me much. They asked me to leave.”

“So you had to come all the way back here?”

“...They really didn't like me,” damn. Didn't really realize how screwed I was until I started answering this filly's questions. Was there anywhere in the Wasteland that I could go where somepony wasn't trying to kill me?

“Did you say you were sorry?”

I glared balefully back at the filly, which made her shrink back a bit. Exactly how naïve was she? “they weren't in a talking mood.”

“Oh.” Yeah, 'oh'.

“What'd you d—”

“Before you finish that question, kid,” I cut her off abruptly, fixing her with a cold glare, “you better be damned sure you want to hear the answer,” the filly bit her lip, “and I'll tell you right now: you don't.”

The rest of our trip to Seaddle's factory district passed in silence.

I wasn't a historian or anything, so nopony could say that I was any sort of expert on what had gone on out here during the war. From what I knew though, the Seaddle area was a source of raw material for the war effort. Iron, copper, tin; pretty much any metal came from one of the mines in the surrounding mountain ranges. The raw ores were brought down into the city and processed into usable metal; which was then shipped out east to the factories there which built the weapons and machines the military needed.

One thing that this had meant was that by the time StableTec came around, the Seaddle mountain ranges were just about saturated with tapped out mines which made ideal sites for their shelters. You couldn't walk a quarter mile up in those peaks without stumbling across a stable or some sort of reinforced bunker. I wasn't even certain that they'd all been found. A lot of the zebra balefire bombs struck those same mountains, targeting the fortified military strongholds built into them; and a lot of landslides had happened as a result, burying the entrances.

What this had meant for the area in the early decades after the bombs fell was that there was a lot of Old World technology available for the reconstruction. The Commonwealth had been really good about capitalizing on that.

Back east, the mindset seemed to be predominantly: “find a stable, take their stuff, kill and/or enslave the inhabitants.”

The Commonwealth had taken another approach. Whoever founded it had had a much longer view of things. When the Commonwealth found a stable, they did everything they could to make peaceful contact and encourage the residents to join up willingly. Stables were more than just a source of electronics and talismans, after all. They possessed one other resource that was worth more than any pile of caps: education. A whole society of workers who had all been taught and trained with rare, technical skills. Computer technicians, doctors, water treatment specialists, experts in hydroponics; skills and fields of study that pretty much simply did not exist in the Wasteland.

Ponies who could operate, and even build the same technology that had sustained their stable for decades or centuries. The Commonwealth sought to assimilate these ponies and use them to rebuild Equestria.

Trouble was: intact stables turned out to be quite rare. I don't know what went wrong, but from what I'd heard: only about one in seven stables still had any living occupants; and only one in four surviving populations weren't complete equicidal maniacs.

I'd checked out a stable once myself, hoping to find something worth salvaging. That place had scared the shit out of me. Messages written in blood, piles of corpses in nearly every room, ranting logs that explained, in horrific detail, how to kill ponies over a series of weeks so as to inflict the most pain. I'd gone no further in than the first level, and then decided that whatever salvage was left in there was best left in there.

Whatever had gone wrong in that place; I didn't want to know.

That being said, over the last century or so since it had been founded, the Commonwealth—New Lunar Republic now I guess—had integrated a hooful of stable populations. Comparing Seaddle now to places like Manehattan, I could see the difference. Here, a concerted effort was made to get the Old World factories and refineries operational again. It was a very slow process, since it often meant first overcoming the rather stalwart defenses that were still running. There was also the issue of power.

I guess that Seaddle had not possessed its own electrical grid, and had been dependent on some other location for power. Until that place was found and returned to operation, everything in the area was being run on spark-batteries. It was understandably hard to get heavy machinery to run for very long on a battery that was meant to power a small appliances for a couple of months.

I put my hoof out, halting the small filly, and came to a stop, my eyes spying movement ahead. In response to my prodding, the foal scooted over and the two of us ducked behind a dumpster.

“What is it?” she asked in a thankfully low whisper.

“Robopony,” I informed her grimly. Great.

A wartime effort to free up ponies from internal law enforcement duties for deployment to the front lines, the equine-shaped robots were widely used for facility security purposes. A testament to quality engineering, most of them were still operational to this day. Not to say their designs had been perfect; as they all pretty much shot at everything that moved that wasn't also a robopony.

Their armored casings were also infuriatingly resistant to pistol rounds. With a few notable exceptions...

“Stay here,” I hissed at the filly and carefully crept around the side of the dumpster.

The key to dealing with a security robot, when you didn't have a spark-grenade or rocket launcher on you, was their design as it related to maintenance. I supposed that back before the war, these robots received periodic servicing—probably to keep them from becoming laser spewing maniacs. During an examination of a thankfully defunct robopony, I had discovered that they possessed a small access panel located at the base of their neck that was about as thick as the side of a tin can. Below that rested some very vital circuitry that appeared to connect their processing talismans to their spark reactors. This translated to the robots being instantly disabled by one or two rounds being pumped through that panel.

Of course, I'd have to actually reach that panel first. And since it was mounted on the top of the robopony's back at the base of their neck, I'd have to pretty much be riding the damn thing. If it detected me before I was close enough to mount it, then I'd be rendered into so much glowing dust by its magical beam weapon.

I closed most of the distance crawling on my belly next to the pock-marked wall of a warehouse. Fortunately, the robopony looked to have crippled one of its wheeled feet at some point, and so was moving at an extremely slow pace, which allowed me to close the distance pretty quickly.

Breathe, Jackboot, breathe—but not too loudly!

The robopony seemed to be completely unaware of me by the time I was nearly on top of it. I carefully drew my pistol out and held it firmly in my mouth. I continued to close the distance until I was directly behind the mechanized pony, and took a breath.

This was going to be my only real chance.

Committing to the attack, I coiled back on my haunches and sprung into the air, landing on the back of the steel-plated robot. Instantly, I could hear it squeal in alarm, recognizing that an intruder was in the area and needed to be dealt with. Of course, the robopony's only weapon system was a single laser mounted into its chest, so I was relatively safe at the moment. That was, until one of its friends showed up.

My eyes locked onto the rust-covered panel just in front of me. I placed the barrel of the pistol right up against the thin metal plate and fired off three shots. The robot screeched, smoked, and went still.

I held my breath for a moment longer, in case some sort of redundant circuit kicked in and returned the robot to life. When it seemed clear that the life had gone completely from the automaton, I allowed myself a sigh of relief. I turned back towards where I'd left Windfall in order to give her the 'all clear'...

...Which was when I caught sight of a second robopony rounding the corner of a building. This one noticed me immediately, and I saw the barrel of the laser built into its chest extend. A red glow appeared at the tip of the barrel, growing in intensity.

“Horseapples,” I mumbled around the pistol's grip.

I was standing right on the back of a disable robopony in the middle of a street that had been built wide enough to accommodate wagons loaded down with freshly mined ore. There was exactly one source of significant cover larger than an empty soda bottle that I would be able to reach before the other automaton opened fire. So I wasted no time in rolling off the steel statue I'd created and cowered behind it as blast after blast of deadly magical energy lanced against it's metal side.

Already, I knew that I was completely fucked. Every so often during a lull, I would peek around and fire off a couple shots from my pistol, hoping to get in a lucky hit, but the bullets did little more than spark off the armor of the robopony pinning me. I simply did not have the ordinance to punch through its armor at this range; and the only paths to get to other cover would take me right out into the open, making me a perfect target.

I looked more closely at the disabled robot I was hiding behind, specifically at the laser cannon mounted in its own chest. I'd only taken out the circuitry connecting the power generator to its AI talisman—I hoped. The cannon was intact, and the spark-reactor should still have a charge. So, in theory, there should still be a way to get the laser to fire and use it against the robot attacking me.

I had a way out. Now I just needed to teach myself Old World electronics and robotic engineering in the next thirty seconds and I'd be home free!

I glanced up at the overcast sky and snarled, “well, fuck you too, Celestia!”

“Hey! Leave him alone!” I heard a distant CLANG, like the sound of a rock bouncing off of a metal sheet.

My ears perked up. Had that been...? No; she was a little inexperienced sure, but she wasn't a moron. Was she?

Risking a peek, I craned my head around the now partially melted lump of slag that my cover's hind quarters had been turned into by the barrage of crimson energy. Every explicative I knew tumbled into an incomprehensible blurt as I saw the little green maned filly standing in a window overlooking the street. In her hoof was clutched a small chunk of concrete. Below, the robopony was rotating on its balled feet. I watched in horror as the robot's rear end lowered to the ground, increasing the angle of its chest, and allowing for the forward facing weapon to target the building's second story.

Windfall squeaked and jumped back from the window as bolts of scarlet light lashed out at the side of the building, blasting away chunks of plaster and cinder-block. I completely lost sight of the pegasus through all of the smoke.

That...stupid, little...

I blinked. The robopony was no longer shooting at me. For now. It was certainly going to reacquire its previous target once it was satisfied that it had reduced the filly to cinders. Which was certainly the case.

Without wasting another second, I bolted from around the melted steel blob that had once been a robot, and sprinted for the alley I'd emerged from. A loud crackling sound from off to my right caught my attention, and I glanced over. The robopony had ceased shooting at the wall, taking notice of me once more. It's laser was being brought to bear on my running form, and I wasn't certain that it would miss with every shot it was about to fire.

Then the building fell on it.

Well, not the entire building, to be fair. However, all of its blasting had not done the two-hundred year old wall facing the street any favors. I watched, in awe, as a slab of steel-reinforced concrete toppled from the building's second floor and completely crushed the robopony whose shots had dislodged it. A blast of gray dust erupted along the street, blocking the entire scene from view. No bolts of laser fire issued out from it.

I backpedaled to a halt, shock freezing me in place.

There was no fucking way that had just happened.

The dust cleared after a few seconds, and the mangled shape of the now-defunct robopony was clearly visible. It had been completely crushed by the thousands of pounds of building that had fallen atop it. A glimmer of movement above caught my eye, and I looked up in time to spot a little white and green form creeping towards the edge of the gap where the building's wall had once been.

Windfall peered down at the destruction she'd inadvertently wrought and gaped. Her eyes darted to me and then back to the robot's twisted corpse, “woah...”

'Woah' indeed.

“Duraspark Portable Power, LLC,” I mumbled as I read the fading sign that took up most of the front of the massive production plant. The parking lot that the two of us stood in was littered with the remains of large carts that looked to have been designed to be pulled by teams of four ponies. A few shattered crates could been seen still sitting in the rusted husks of the transports, each emblazoned with a 'DPP' logo. They were all empty of course.

A spark-battery factory was the obvious place to begin our hunt. Of course, being obvious meant that pickings would be slim. The NLR contract was a standing bounty, which meant that they were always paying for the crystal-fueled power cells. Other scavengers would have been all over this place over the past century. A pony could even be forgiven for thinking that a place like this would have long ago been picked clean.

However, any veteran scavenger knew that there was no such thing as a building that had been 'picked clean' in the Wasteland. These places were riddled with robots, turrets, locked doors, ghouls, and other terrifying horrors that encouraged most scavengers to not venture any deeper than they absolutely had too. Add to that an interesting tendency for the local robots of a given region to redistribute themselves in order to compensate for losses inflicted by explorers, and you had yourself a city that was effectively always crawling with hazards.

Maybe we would have to go deeper into the factory than was advisable, but I was confident that we would find ourselves a crate of fresh batteries in their somewhere.

“Stay low,” I cautioned the filly. Slowly, I nudged one of the front entrance's double-doors open and poked my head in. The reception area was full of the expected: skeletons and garbage. A couple of broken computers sat on a counter on the far side of the room. A pile of rusted slag in the middle of the floor testified to the past escapades of prior looters of this particular ruin. Hopefully the immediate coast had remained clear since their foray into the factory.

The two of us trotted carefully into the room. My eyes scanned the choice of corridors that lay before us. One door to the left, one to the right, and a pair past the desk. We'd need to venture deep into the interior if we wanted to find a place that had remained untouched thus far. Which meant one of the two doors on the other side of the room.

“This way,” something about going right had always sort of sat well with me, so the door on the right it was.

Offices for the most part. A pair of restrooms. Ah, there's the ticket: factory floor!

“Wow,” Windfall whispered, awed by the sight of the cavernous interior of the production side of the factory.

Conveyor belts took up most of the floor space, lined by various machines that likely participated in some aspect of the assembly of fresh spark batteries. Walkways crisscrossed the air above the floor, allowing for the long-dead workers to observe the process and ensure that everything was functioning accordingly. At the moment, it served as a causeway for a single robopony that was dutifully patrolling the factory. I quickly pulled the little filly with me, ducking behind a toppled metal cabinet.

“Don't make a sound,” I whispered in a low voice. The pegasus folded her fetlocks over her mouth, barely even breathing. The memory of what one of those same robots had nearly done to me just a half hour ago was no doubt still quite fresh in her mind.

Unlike that encounter, however, I possessed no clear route of approach and Windfall was fresh out of second story windows. This would be an ideal moment for Windfall to showcase her power of flight. Of course, even if the little feathered filly could somehow bring herself to pry her wings away from their fear-fueled iron grip at her sides, I'd yet to see those pinions do more than flutter when she panicked.

What I'd give for a spark-grenade.

I craned my head around the top of the toppled cabinet and took survey of the catwalks. Rickety and rusted, with the occasional collapsed section, but they seemed to be stable enough for the moment to support the automaton’s weight. Perhaps if I could set some sort of explosive charge under part of it and detonate it at an opportune moment? Yeah, that was a possibility that could prove effective...

...If I had any explosives. I'd never had the sort of hoof-eye coordination that made grenades particularly practical though.

I continued to watch the robopony's progress, looking to see if it was following a predictable patrol pattern. If nothing else, maybe the two of us could slip on past it while it was elsewhere.

Nearly a minute of watching the robot skitter along the catwalk on its rounds suggested that such a hope was a futile one. It had adopted a rather narrow patrol path, allowing it frequent coverage of nearly all of the production floor. Damn that efficient metal bastard. I simply did not have the firepower to take this thing in a straight fight. In order to do that, I'd need some sort of automatic grenade launcher or something, and what kind of sociopath walked around with one of those handy?

Then I noticed that the robot's course took it through a tangle of dead electrical wires. It wasn't particularly surprising that the wires weren't live; most of the ruins of Seadlle were completely without power. Except for those few facilities which possessed their own emergence spark-reactors, most of the buildings lacked any sort of active electrical current. In just about every other location, those dead wires would be an unimportant detail. However, I wasn't in just any location.

I was in a spark-battery factory. I was in the assembly area of a spark-battery factory. Somewhere in this room, hopefully within hoof reach, was a source of magical energy that I could use to juice up those lines and electrocute the robot.

I began to look around the assembly belts within view. Of course, being assembly belts, there was naught but bits and pieces that had yet to be combined into a working battery. Perhaps if I checked in one of the cabinets or lockers? Maybe there were hooftools that used spark-batteries in one of them that I could find some way to wire into the system.

The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up on end as I heard the whirring of the robopony's motorized feet stop, and a dry, monotone, synthetic voice blare through the room, “HALT! TRESPASSING IN THIS FACILITY IS FORBIDDEN! PLEASE STAND BY TO BE VAPORIZED!”

Horseapples...

As quickly as I could, I threw myself to the mesh floor near the turned over cabinet. A moment later, there was a loud 'VOORP! VOORP!' as beams of crimson energy splashed over the steel locker. The thin sheets of metal offered barely any resistance to the magical onslaught, melting away into slag. Shit! This trip had gone wrong in a big way! This was why I preferred dealing with other ponies when it came to acquiring wealth: they rarely had magical energy weapons, and they were usually very susceptible to bullets from my pistol.

I entertained the notion of making a run for the exit and calling this outing a wash. There were other ways to get my hooves on some caps. Maybe find a trade caravan with a fat coin purse...

Of course, with the robot's attention firmly on me, there was little chance that I'd clear even that short open space without being rendered into a glowing red mist. Frustrated, and lacking in options, I drew my pistol and quickly popped off a trio of shots at the robopony firing down on me. I didn't even note where the rounds ended up before slipping back behind my dwindling cover. Lingering too long for an aimed shot would just get me killed anyway. The most I could hope for was a lucky hit...

As a barrage of scarlet beams lanced the cabinet, I heard another series of crisp 'pops' coming from over to my right. Surprised, I chanced a look and saw that Windfall had taken out her little .22 and was bounding along the conveyer belts. Her wings hummed furiously between jumps, carrying her slightly further than her leaps alone would have. I noted the sharp 'TINK' the resounded as one of her tiny bullets actually managed to ricochet off of the robot's thick metal hide. While I doubted that the damage inflicted by the hit would have been visible without the use of a magnifying glass, the strike did seem to draw the robots attention.

The robot rotated on it's wheeled feet and began to track the pegasus filly's path with its chest-mounted cannon. Seeming to forget entirely about the rust-colored earth pony that it had had pinned not ten seconds ago. My eyes shifted from the pegasus to the doorway nearby. The coast was clear. With the robopony distracted, I'd be able to make a clean getaway.

All I had to do was leave Windfall to die.

Wouldn't be the first time that I'd left another pony to face death while I got to safety. As I sprinted through the doorway, I noted that it probably wouldn't be the last either.

“Jackboot?!”

I heard the surprised outburst follow me down the hallway as I ran from the assembly area. She'd hate me, but only for about another minute or two if the sound of the robopony's relentless torrent of fire was any indication. Then her problems would be over.

You're doing your Dad proud, son, a voice in my head commended me, little fillies are meant to be thrown away when it suits your own needs. This wasn't an effort by my twisted mind to use reverse psychology. It was what my father had genuinely believed; and not just where filly's were concerned. Everypony was expendable in his eyes. Everypony that wasn't him anyway. Let somepony die for you today, live to kill again tomorrow.

Another burst of magical laser fire, followed by the sound of something electronic exploding into a shower of sparks. A filly's terrified scream, “Jackboot! Help!” Another explosion. Hysterical sobbing, interspersed with pleas for my return to aid her.

My legs wouldn't carry me any further. A crying filly. This was fucking ridiculous. I should be gone from here. Instead, I felt an urge to actually go back. A vision of a blue armored buck dying because he'd been more concerned with cradling his dead daughter than his own well-being flashed through my mind. Sentiment was a stupid reason to die. So what if she was crying? Of course Windfall was crying; she was about to die, violently. That was a perfectly acceptable reason for a filly to cry, and itwasn't my problem.

You let me cry too, Whiplash's voice sneered at me, because you like listening to a filly cry, don't you? Just like him.

I didn't like it. She knew that.

And yet, you never did a damn thing about it, did you?

What had Whiplash expected me to do about it? Take Steel Bit on in hoof-to-hoof combat to protect her? He'd have torn me apart! Then he'd have killed me for defying him. How was my dying supposed to have done anything to help her?

What if you'd won?

Because that was what would have happened, I thought derisively. A six-year-old colt would have whopped the flank of the strongest White Hoof alive.

Awe, what's the matter? Couldn't kill one decrepit old buck? Not surprising. You can't kill one rusty robot either, Whiplash chided mockingly, admit it: you just want to listen to her beg. You like it when fillies beg! Crying gets you off!

Fuck you! You know I didn't like it then, and I don't like it now.

Prove it.

She just wanted to see me die. The pony that got away from her, cut down by a robopony in an abandoned factory while trying to save a filly who was too dumb to make her own escape while I'd been the one getting shot at. Wouldn't that have just tickled her pink?

And wouldn't it just piss me off if you lived?

As I spun around and cantered back towards the sounds of screams and laser fire, I knew that this was, without a doubt, the stupidest thing that I had ever done in my entire life; and it was going to get me killed. As I sprinted into the large open assembly area, I saw that the robotic pony was still blasting away at a section of conveyor belt. Underneath which I could only just barely see a cowering ball of white pinions. She wasn't dead yet.

Of course, I still didn't have much of a plan for dealing with this thing; other than providing another target for it to shoot at. It was a start. I pulled out my pistol, took aim at the distracted automaton, and fired a pair of slugs at its head. I was disappointed to see that the shots simply sparked harmlessly off the steel casing of its cranium, doing no harm. Oh well, at least I'd draw it off of Windfall long enough for her to get out. Maybe I'd even be able to somehow slip away too.

“Hey, you!” I yelled defiantly above the din of laser fire, “your mother was a snow blower!” for good measure, I blew a raspberry around the grip of my pistol.

Sure enough, sensing that there was a somewhat more pressing threat to deal with than a cowering pegasus filly, the robopony once again turned and drew a bead. I wasted no time diving behind a bin of battery parts; just as a barrage of magical death washed across where I'd just been standing. I winced as the laser cannon mounted in the robot's chest spat numerous bolts into my cover.

Then I heard another sound. The piercing cry of metal as it warped under the weight of something heavier than it was capable of adequately supporting. The next couple of blasts from the robopony ended up missing the bin I was crouched behind and struck the floor. The the automaton corrected its aim and once more began scoring more accurate hits. Curious about what had happened, I chanced a quick peak around the side.

The catwalk that the robot had been patrolling was now slightly canted. In front of the robot, one of the support struts that attached the mesh walkway to the building's ceiling had obviously only recently been compromised, the melted stubs still glowing orange where the magical laser blasts had inadvertently chewed through it.

I pulled my head back behind my cover, just as the floor beneath it was blackened by a well placed bolt. A dubious smile touched my face. An idea formed in my head of how exactly the two of us could take this thing out of commission. Of course, I would need Windfall to participate; assuming that she was capable of pulling herself out of the tightly rolled up ball that she'd formed herself into.

“Hey, kid!” I yelled across the assembly floor, “you dead yet?”

“J-Jackboot?” came the rather surprised response from the filly, “you came back?”

“I never left,” I lied, cringing as a section of my cover burst into a shower of molten slag, “just had to get to better cover. You ready to take this thing down?”

“Are you crazy?!” the little flier demanded, “bullets just make it mad!”

“I have a plan,” I assured her, “we need to get it to shoot at us-” I was cut short by another burst of slag.

“That's not a plan!” Windfall retorted with terrified indignation, “that's what's happening right now!”

“Just...trust me,” saying those words to other ponies had allowed me to kill more than a few naïve souls. It felt strange to actually mean them. I idly wondered if they'd still get somepony killed, even if they were genuine this time, “we need to get it to shoot out the struts. Which means I need you to get its attention again. Try to get it to fire at you through the supports that are holding up the scaffold.”

“You'll just run away again!”

Damn it, “I didn't run away before,” I called back, sounding as genuine as I could manage, “I just had to...get to a better position. You know, to get it to shoot out a strut. Look for yourself!” I needed her to trust me. Otherwise that thing was going to end up melting the both of us in the next couple of minutes. Another burst of molten slivers. I was quickly losing my cover to the robot's relentless onslaught. Didn't those things ever run out of ammunition?!

“You can either distract this thing for ten seconds, or wait for it to kill me; your choice!” hopefully that ultimatum would do something to spur the filly into action. It was certainly the truth of the matter though, “But choose quick, or this thing'll choose for you!”

It was a true enough statement. Less than half of the bin that I had chosen to hide behind remained at the moment, and there was less of it with each passing second. I kept an ear peeled for the filly's answer, listening over the whine of the energy discharges being continuously hurled in my direction.

Nothing.

I didn't dare risk a look to see if the filly was out of her cover yet. Not the way this thing was laying into me. Besides, I doubted that I'd be able to catch sight of the filly from where I was anyway. All I could do was wait, and hope that Windfall hadn't taken after her mentor and fled while the getting was good. I had to hope that she was a more faithful pony that me.

This was so stupid. I was so stupid. I had been free, damn it! I'd been halfway out the door, and I'd come back. Why? Because I'd heard a filly break down and cry in the face of certain death. What the fuck was wrong with me that I was going to get myself killed for something as pathetic as that? Another symptom of my insanity, I guess? Hearing voices in my head wasn't enough, I had to commit suicide by altruism? Just so that I could sell the filly out at some later date anyway, I was sure; assuming we both somehow survived this.

A trio of sharp 'paps' rang out, a couple of them clinking off of something metal, “hey, bolts for brains! Over here!”

Stupid filly should have run while she had the chance. I was just going to end up ditching her at some later date in order to save myself anyway. Hopefully, I'd get far enough away that I wouldn't hear her sobs and come back when that time came too.

Just as before, the robot ceased its attack on my position and directed itself methodically towards the filly, who gave a terrified 'eep!' and began to flit about the room madly. Her erratic hovering spurts seemed to be difficult for the robopony to anticipate with its targeting talisman, causing it to miss by significant margins. No telling how long to little pony could keep up her quasi-flying acrobatics though; and if my distraction went up in a puff of dust and feathers, then my plan would be worthless.

I dashed from my hiding spot and galloped to a new perch. I sidestepped a little bit to my left, squinting at the robopony's position on the scaffolding, hoping that I'd lined myself up right. When I was satisfied, I drew my pistol and once again got the robot's attention, “hey, laser lips!” a pair of 9mm slug sparked off of its flank. The robopony executed its turn once more, lining the barrel of its cannon up with me. I took another half step to the right, noting that the robot pivoted slightly as well. When the tip started glowing with a magical charge, I dove forward.

The blast erupted forth, catching another one of the catwalk's supports full on. The steel strut exploded in a shower of orange molten slag and the mesh structure squealed once more. The whole assembly listed to the side, causing the robot to skitter along the rusty flooring. It was only just caught by the railing, where it hesitated as it tried futilely to right itself. Though now precariously oriented on a tilted catwalk, the threat it posed had not been completely neutralized quite yet. The cannon's barrel seemed to enjoy a rather broad range of movement for something that was mounted in the robot's breast.

My hooves skittered along the concrete floor as I sought fresh cover from the robpony's lasery response to my taunt. The energy weapon melted fresh holes into the mesh floor of the faltering platform that it was sitting on as the cannon sought to eliminate its current priority threat. Unfortunately, the fresh rends that it was creating in its efforts to vaporize me were not contributing to the complete collapse of the structure. In fact, from what I could see, it was going to be nearly impossible to trick the robot into finishing itself off. It was currently positioned well below the remaining intact struts, and had little reason to shift its direction of fire towards the ceiling where the last two struts were located.

To make matters worse, running had just ceased to be a viable option, as the robopony had a clear field of fire that covered the only path that lay between myself and the exit. It had me pinned, and I had no way of getting it to shoot where I needed to to. I knew going back was going to get me killed. Sentiment. Damn, fucking, sentiment.

Awe, but you're going to die so heroically, Whiplash's voice teased, saving a helpless little filly...oh. Wait. She's going to die here too, isn't she? Oh well, guess you're dying a failure after all!

Fuck. You.

I shook the phantom in my mind away and started combing my brain for a plan. I had a couple of grenades in my satchel, so that was on the table. Of course, I wasn't really much good with the damn things; I'd be more likely to either blow myself to bits, or somehow collapse the doorway entirely and guarantee that neither of us could get out of here. Ideally, I could use one of them to finish off the platform, but that would stand a much better chance of working if I could place the grenade, as opposed to throwing it. Which meant that I had to either find a ladder or...

...fly.

Where was that damn filly at anyway?

As though on cue, I heard a high-pitched scream coming from the direction of the robopony. My blood froze as my minds first thought was that Windfall has been shot. With the filly out of action, I would be doomed to death as well not long after. Then I realized that the yelling was not the cry of an injured filly, but rather an angry one. Then there was the sound of tiny hooves clattering over steel plating.

The barrage of laser fire subsided and I chanced a peak at whatever insane plan Windfall had devised. My eyes widened, and a swarm of epithets cascaded out of my mouth as I watched the reckless little pegasus execute the plan of a desperate fool.

Using periodic spasms of her tiny wings, the filly clambered up the robotic pony's flank and cantered along its spine. A couple of rounds from the pistol still held in her mouth pinked harmlessly off its armor. However, I got the impression that Windfall's plan had not been to disable the robot by use of its access port. I'd been remiss in explaining that helpful little fact to her, and she hadn't had a clear view when I'd done it an hour ago. Her shots seemed intended to serve mostly to insure that she had the robopony's undivided attention. Which she certainly did.

Windfall vaulted onto, and then off of, the automaton's head and began frantically scrambling up the catwalk's newly acquired incline. The robot's menacing laser canon whipped around and began to track the pegasus' movements. Though—I noted with hopeful trepidation—it was doing so with considerable difficulty. Brilliant crimson beams missed the filly by inches, scourging white hot holes in the mesh flooring of the listing suspended walkway.

She's going to die, I concluded. She is going to die in the next few seconds, and if I don't get out of here while I have half a chance, I'm not going to live for very much longer either. All I had to do was leave her behind—again—and make my run for it. It wasn't my fault that the little pegasus had decided to commit suicide by tangling with that thing up close. I'd been in the middle of formulating a workable plan that should have saved both of our lives. Now she'd gone a fucked it all up.

Which meant that I could get out of here with a clear conscience...ish.

All I had to do was run for the door.

Easiest thing in the world. Run for the door. I did it, like, two minutes ago. Just needed to do it again.

One more time.

Let's go.

…

Horseapples.

I watched the filly desperately clambering her way up the steep slope of the catwalk while the robopony's shots slowly bracketed her. In a few more seconds, it wasn't going to miss, not with her out in the open like she was. My eyes darted frantically around, looking for an opening or vulnerability that I might not have noticed from where I'd been behind my cover. Unfortunately, I wasn't seeing much. The robopony was too high for an earth pony like me to be able to get up onto its back and fire the necessary disabling shots.

It needed to be lower to the ground, which meant that at least one more of the supporting struts had to be taken out. That should finally collapse the structure completely. Then I could finish it off. The trouble was going to be severing another one of the supports. The only thing that had the firepower needed to cut through them efficiently was the robopony, and right now it was busy shooting at Windfall...

...who was currently clambering towards one of the struts.

Oh. So, the filly had been thinking ahead. Mostly.

She would be nearly twenty feet off the ground by the time she reached the strut. Assuming that the robopony didn't reduce her to glowing mist before she could get it to blast eh support, the filly was going to be in for quite the fall. I'd be less concerned if I'd ever seen her manage more than a flutter every once in a while.

I was going to have to catch her. Horseapples.

My eyes were fixed on the ivory pegasus as she made one final leap up the mesh incline. Her wings buzzed frantically in an effort to give her the necessary height to grab onto the strut that she'd been running for. She only barely managed to reach it, desperately grabbing onto it with her forehooves, panting furiously. Windfall looked back over her shoulder at the canted automaton, and her eyes widened. The barrel of its magical energy weapon was already glowing crimson.

"Jump!" I bellowed at the top of my lungs, scrambling out from behind my misshapen cover. My eyes were on the filly as she let out a terrified scream. Her hooves unwrapped themselves from the vertical metal support and her wings buzzed once more. The movement propelled the filly off of the metal strut just as a bolt of scarlet energy struck her perch. A shower of glowing slag exploded outward from the point of impact, pelting the filly in midair. Her scream of terror morphed into one of pain as she dropped through the air.

I cringed. That last little burst of her wings had sent the filly off of the course that I'd anticipated. I was forced to leap to catch her. The small limp body threw off my balance when she made contact with my outstretched forehooves, and the pair of us landed on the hard concrete factory floor with little in the way of grace. For my own part, I felt at least one rib crack, and I'd landed with more of my weight on the little pegasus that I had intended.

What Windfall's plan had lacked in elegance, it made up for in effectiveness. Above us, I could hear the remaining supports scream their protests at the increasing loads that they were being asked to bare, now that their comrades were no longer among them. The catwalk groaned and screeched for several seconds. Then there were several loud snapping sounds as overstressed bolts sheared in half. The structure collapsed to the ground in a cacophonous roar, crushing several pieces of machinery in its wake. Fortunately, it missed the two of us completely.

My eyes went to the limp filly in my hooves. Initially, I was convinced that she had been killed by the robopony's attack. However, she was still breathing. Barely. No telling what sorts of injuries she had sustained in the fall, and blood matted her coat where shards of molten steel had embedded themselves in her face and chest. This filly was due for a healing potion or two, at the least.

I began to sift through my saddlebag for one, but halted abruptly when I heard noises coming from within the wreckage of the catwalk. Noises that sounded suspiciously like a robopony trying to right itself. Bullshit. That thing had survived? Damn those Old World ponies and their quality engineering!

Maybe it was still operational, but it was also on the ground. I could kill it on the ground. Leaving the unconscious filly where she lay, I scampered for my pistol. The pain in my chest as the movements caused my broken rib to shift around was rather distracting; but I doubted that it would be lethal any time soon.

I picked up the pistol from where I'd dropped it while making my leap for the filly, and turned towards the wreckage of the catwalk. A lot of machinery and scattered spark-battery components littered the middle of the factory floor. I could barely make out the quivering shape of the robopony, let alone identify which way it was facing. I had to get at the plate on its back.

The weight of the weapon in my mouth suggested that I needed to entertain the notion of reloading at some point in the near future. It might even be prudent to do so right now. Which was why, as I moved to fetch a fresh magazine from the pocket sewn into my saddlebags, the pile of twisted steel mesh in front of me exploded in a shower of orange molten sparks and give a great heave as the robopony rose up out of the middle of the mess. Me, catch a break? Nah!

No time to reload now! I clambered around the pile of scrap, circling to get at the automaton's rear. It may have managed to right itself somehow, but it was still very much restricted in its ability to move around. Mentally, I tallied up the number of rounds I fired to reassure myself that I would have enough to shut this metal monstrosity down.

There'd been two in the street. Three initially on the factory floor. Then two. Plus two. Plus one was...Had it been three in the street? Three plus three plus two plus one plus...fuck! Oh course I hadn't been keeping track of my bullets. Why would I bother keeping track of my bullets? It's not like that was a really important thing to do when you were fighting for your life!

Whelp, time to find out exactly how much Celestia hates me...

I could see the cannon mounted into the robopony's chest making every attempt to track me. Fortunately, the magical energy weapon could pivot only so far in any given direction. With its wheeled legs still confined by the wreckage around it, I was able to slip out of the robot's firing arc. Safely behind it, I jumped up onto its back, wincing as my ribs protested once more. A sigh of relief escaped my lips. I was finally no longer having to sprint for my life under the threat of disintegration. The robot couldn't reach me from here.

It could still reach Windfall though. Recognizing this, and apparently deciding that it would just as soon remove the intruder that it could shoot, rather than concerning itself with the one it couldn't, I saw the cannon line itself up for a shot at the prone filly on the floor.

Ah, horseapples! Of course I wouldn't be allowed a moment to breath just yet. Fumbling with the pistol in my mouth, I put the barrel of the 9mm up to the access plate and tongued the trigger repeatedly, emptying the rest of the clip into the vulnerable nape of the robopony's neck...

...Which amounted to a single bullet before the slide locked back, caught on the weapon's empty magazine.

Oh for fucking fuckity-fucks sake!

That single round had managed to mangle the access plate beyond recognition, and I suspect do at least some minor damage to the crystalline circuitry within; but the robopony was clearly still very much active. And the cannon was still glowing, ready to fire at any moment. I didn't have the luxury of time to reload, not if I wanted to keep my investment alive. That severely limited my options.

With an exasperated groan, I drew out my knife. The hilt clutched firmly in my teeth, I plunged the steel blade as deep into the automaton's interior as the weapon's guard would let me. I was rewarded with the sound of crunching circuitry, and the smell of burning plastic and silicon. I was also 'rewarded' with the sensation of a great deal of magical energy traveling up the blade and setting my body to jerking. A testament to the idiocy of the action, that blow might very well have killed me if not for the fact that it also succeeded in deactivating the robot's power supply.

I pulled my mouth off of the blade, which was still buried in the robot's back and proceeded to exercise my jaw. The experience had left my mouth feeling both numb and fuzzy at the same time. I couldn't taste anything either. Oh, this was unpleasant. This wasn't going to be permanent, was it? Like, I hadn't just ruined my ability to speak or something for the sake of that filly, had I? Because I was going to be pissed off if that was the case. That pegasus owed me for this.

Oh, shit! Right, the filly. I should probably make sure she was going to live. Otherwise most of this effort would have been a waste. A few more awkward licks of my tongue and experiments in speaking coherently as I retrieved my weapons and dismounted the lifeless robopony. This filly had better be worth all of this effort. She'd better grow up to be a Luna-damned beast of a fighter after all that I was putting myself through on her behalf!

First things, first: making sure that she would at least live through the night. I bent over the filly and examined her. I wasn't any sort of expert on medicine, but I had learned enough over the years of treating my own wounds to recognize when something was serious or not. There were a lot of cuts on the filly, and her white coat was speckled with blood. None of it was flowing though. No serious nicks of any major blood vessels, so she wasn't going to bleed out on me. I prodded her ribs to see if any of them were floating around. The filly didn't respond to the poking, and none of the bones in her chest seemed to be moving in any way they weren't meant to.

No broken limbs. No discoloration of her belly. Nothing leaking out of her ears or nose. One monster of a lump on the side of her head though. Must have happened in the fall. Knocked unconscious then. She'd probably have a pretty serious concussion when she finally came to. Some Dash might bring her out of it right now, but I didn't have anything that would help her if she starting feeling dizzy or nauseous. Because that's what I was going to need out in the Ruins: a filly stumbling into everything and puking all over out haul.

Best to let her come to on her own, whenever that may be. She wasn't very heavy at least.

I found an old leather tool belt in one of the lockers near the assembly area and used it to strap the unconscious pegasus to my backside. It would keep her in place if I found myself having to make a quick exit. We'd already run into more than a couple of threats thus far. I fully expected to encounter more.

Now, to finally continue with our search for what had brought us into this Old World death trap in the first place: Spark batteries. There weren't going to be any to be found in the assembly part of this factory, but it had to have some sort of storage area for finished product waiting to be delivered. I just needed to find out where that was.

As it turned out, I didn't have far to wander before I found myself in another cavernous room. Creates of all sorts of shapes and sizes were scattered over the floor. Each one bore a familiar 'DPP' logo on their sides...and each of them was empty. Oh, for Celestia's sake...This couldn't have all been for nothing, could it? There had to be something left!

I scrounged around through the stacked crates for the better part of an hour. I figured that the boxes near the bottoms of the stacks had to be full; but they were empty like all the rest. Every crate showed signs of having been rummaged through or broken into. Of all the rotten luck...each empty box egged on my fury at having been robbed of my prize after working so hard to get it.

This culminated in one box receiving a rather intense double buck that shattered it against one of its fellows. Both wooden containers exploded into a cloud of splinters and scrap. When the dust settled, all that remained was a pile of trash fit only to be firewood, and a glowing terminal.

I blinked. I hadn't noticed that Old World computer at all during my rummaging. It had been perfectly concealed by a crate. Curious, I approached the machine and peered at the words on the screen.

It was a log of some sort. Dates, number of units, lot numbers...this was a shipping manifest! Records of every batch of batteries that had been produced here and where they'd gone to! Maybe I wasn't going to be left with nothing after all.

Computers and ancient technology weren't my strong-suit, but everypony in the Wasteland learned enough at some point to at least be able to muddle their way through basic menus. Hard not to when hundreds of these terminals remained functional all throughout the Wasteland. Some were even put to practical use in more developed areas. Myself, I'd occasionally diddled on them while exploring the odd ruin in search of valuable scrap. So I knew the basic commands.

I also knew the day that the megaspells detonated way back then. It was the last day of most archived data on these things. So, in order to find an intact stash of batteries nearby, I just needed to look at recent shipping dates and quantities delivered...bingo. One week before balefire burned Equestria, an order of twenty spark-batteries was sent out to a place called 'Ceerilee's Home for Orphaned Foals'. The best part, the location didn't seem to be all of that far of a detour. No way that an orphanage could use all of those batteries in such a limited amount of time.

Pay-dirt had been struck at last.

Windfall had had begun to stir by the time we finally arrived at the ancient orphanage. Four hours since she'd lost consciousness. Not bad. I doubted that she was going to be cognizant of her surroundings any time soon, but it was a good sign that she was even moving at all. With luck, she'd be fully recovered in a couple of days. Otherwise, I'd probably just go ahead and cut my losses and abandon the filly. She was no use to me 'damaged'.

The orphanage itself wasn't much to look at. Had I not known what I was looking for, I'd probably have missed it entirely. A narrow pale yellow building two stories tall, squished between two other similar structures of differing faded colors. The sign wasn't even hanging above the door anymore. Hopefully, that meant that the contents within were untouched. At least, the contents that I was after. I cast a glance at the filly on my back to make sure that she was still securely in place and then stepped inside.

Dim. Dirty. Depressing. The trifecta of Old World ruins. The first floor looked like a series of common rooms. One had a smattering of broken and half-rotted toys. Another had an assortment of tables ringed with chairs. Dusty dishes suggested that it was a dining area. The kitchen was beyond that. This didn't look so much like an orphanage as it did a moderately sized home. The number of chairs in the dining room amounted to a little over a dozen. A dozen children and their caretaker living together in this place? Must have been pretty crowded.

The upstairs confirmed my estimation. Two rooms to either side of the upper hallway each held a trio of bunk beds, with only enough room left over for a few footlockers. Looks like the foals here had had to double up when it came to storing their possessions. A bathroom with a vanity that was positively choking with toothbrushes. A linen closet that was bare of linen. With the number of beds in this place, I could guess why. How long had this place even been up and running? So much of it looked like it had been put together rather hastily.

At the end of the hall was the master bedroom. Presumably where the pony running this place had slept, as it contained the only full sized bed that I had yet seen in this place. Even had been used to sleep foals, by the look of the set of bunk beds in the corner. It was here that I also discovered all of the building's occupants.

A cluster of skeletons in the far corner of the room.

I took step closer, and paused as I felt something crinkle under my hoof. Glancing down, I noticed a piece of parchment that had faded with time. The writing upon it was an elegant script made with ink that was a light shade of pink. Curious, I picked up the piece of paper and read the message upon it.

CHEERILEE,

I CAN NEVER THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR WHAT YOU'RE DOING. THIS STUPID WAR HAS COST EVERYPONY SO MUCH, BUT NOPONY MORE SO THAN THESE POOR FOALS. THE MINISTRY OF PEACE HAS STANDING ORDERS TO GIVE YOU WHATEVER FUNDING YOU NEED TO OPERATE THE ORPHANAGE. IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, DON'T HESITATE TO ASK. THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING YOU'RE DOING.

FLUTTERSHY.

My eyes looked up from the note's flowing letters, towards the collection of skeletons. A dozen or so tiny sets of bones. Tiny bumps on some of the skulls, and barely visible delicate wing bones on the floor suggested that all three pony types were represented here. All of them were gathered tightly around the remains of a fully grown earth pony. Children seeking safety during their last moments. Their carer comforting them as best they could, likely assuring them that everything would be alright in the end.

The building was intact. No balefire blasts had killed these ponies. They had died slow, choking on the radioactive fallout that followed. There would have been a lot of crying and begging.

I narrowed my gaze at the larger skeleton in the middle of the group. Specifically, at the little golden trinket that the bones were clutching tightly to their ribs; just as the foals had clung to her. Upon closer inspection, I found that the object was in fact a little statue of a pony. A pegasus mare to be precise. Nor, I discovered as I neared it, was it a statue made of actual gold. It was simply a yellow mare with a flowing pink main and tail. What an odd thing to cling to in your last hours, I thought to myself.

It didn't look to be particularly valuable, other than whatever sentiment it had held for the pony holding it. Though, I had to admit that I was impressed with how new it looked. It had to be well over two centuries in age, much like everything else in this room, yet its vibrant colors and pristine appearance could have convinced anypony that it had been manufactured just yesterday. I'd known that the ponies of Old Equestira had built things to last, but damn!

Knocking aside the skeletal hooves of the earth pony, I reached out and took the statue from its embrace for a closer look. The pony felt...familiar somehow. I obviously couldn't have seen her somewhere before, but...there was something. The statue's expression was calm, reassuring. The big blue eyes of the mare seeming to convey this sense of security that I imagine would have made anypony feel safe if she'd really been there. Even surrounded by all of this death, it was having a calming effect on me.

On the base were inscribed two words: Be Pleasant.

This statue was the strangest object I'd ever come across in the Wasteland. It didn't look to be very practical or useful though. Given the vibrant nature of its colors, and its remarkably life-like appearance, I bet that I could find an interested buyer in a place like Seaddle. The wealthier politicos were always in the market for unusual art pieces. I placed the idol into my saddlebag.

It was probably a good thing that Windfall was unconscious for this. The filly had been through enough traumatizing experiences for one week. I didn't need her breaking down again. Or just breaking altogether. I'd seen what happened to the slaves who'd been put through too much psychological torture too quickly. They'd become withdrawn and distant. They stopped fighting. Good for a slave, bad for a pony that I was hoping to mold into a partner. I needed her pliable where my instructions were concerned, true; but I also needed her spirit intact. Otherwise she'd be useless in a rough situation.

My eyes went to an ajar door to my left. A closet. What was inside brought a smile to my lips for the first time in a long while. A box of spark-batteries.

Halle-fucking-lujah.

Footnote: Level Up
Perk Added: Run 'n Gun -- halve bullet spread while firing on the move.

Thank you so much for reading! As always, a thumbs up and comment are always greatly appreciated

I've set up a Cover Art Fund if you're interested and have any bits lying around! You can see what I'M capable of, heh; professional assistance is clearly needed here!