“What's a nice mare like you doing in a place like this?”

I slammed the door to our little closet of an apartment open with enough force to send it bouncing back towards me after it'd collided with the wall. This only served to compound my unwarranted animosity towards the slab of corrugated steel, and I slammed it into the wall a second time for good measure. The filly on my back stirred again, but didn't rouse. Which was fortunate, since I hadn't needed her to witness my fury mounting ever since I'd finished turning the batteries in to the magistrate's clerk for our payment.

“'War tax' my ass! That little shit pocketed the money, or I'm a mule!” I was not particularly concerned with how effectively my voiced carried through the predictably thin walls to whomever our neighbors might be.

Half! Half of the bounty we'd been promised had been withheld immediately as 'tax' to fund the war effort with the Steel Rangers. What the fuck kind of sense did that make?! The NLR was the one paying us! How could the put a tax on the very bits that they were handing out?!

All they had to do was not offer the thousand bits in the first place. If all they were going to give us were four hundred and fifty bits—fifty bit 'bounty processing fee', that was a lark!—then they should have just offered the four hundred and fifty bits! On the other hoof, I wouldn't have gone out there if all they'd offered was four-fifty, so I guess I could see their reasoning. Still, it felt like I'd been robbed.

I also felt that it wasn't entirely hypocritical for me to feel upset about getting robbed...

After restocking expended ammunition, the health potion I'd given to Windfall when she still hadn't woken up after eight hours, the cost of this room for the week and dinner; I'd come out with a net profit of just one hundred caps. That would have gotten me just an hour of 'quality time' with Saffron back in Flank. An hour without all of those kinky little activities I'd only recently been able to talk her into. Ridiculous.

“That's the last government contract I take,” I grumbled, striding towards the room's single bed. I grabbed one of the pillows off of it and set it on the floor. This was where I deposited the limp lump of filly that I'd been carrying on my back for the better part of the day. If her concussion caused her to vomit, I didn't want that getting on the bed. I then plopped down in front of the bed and began shucking my barding, which had gotten progressively more damaged since my encounter with the farmer. The rend his shotgun had torn in it was widening as I continued to exert myself without the materials to do a proper patch job.

Unfortunately, I still didn't have the money for those materials, and the longer I was gallivanting about trying to scrape them together, the more damage the barding was sustaining. It was a proper perpetuating cycle at this point. I'd never have the funds to get it mended at this rate. Pah, at this rate, it'd be nothing but unrecognizable shreds of leather in a month. I couldn't recall it ever being this hard to keep from getting shot at back east.

Was I losing my edge or something?

How was I even supposed to gain any sort of headway here? I wasn't exactly the kind of pony who was contented to work a nine-to-five job and live hoof-to-mouth for the rest of my life. My ideal existence was a big score every few weeks, separated by non-stop drinking and rutting. Not that I saw myself with much of an opportunity for the latter here, even even I got the funds together.

Though, the drinking I could do something about. In my current aggravated state, it seemed like an opportune night to do so, as well.

I tossed my barding off to the side and proceeded to dig through my saddlebags for the one article of actual clothing that I possessed. Unlike most of what was in my bags, this was perhaps one of the few things that I owned that had been procured legally, using genuine honestly earned money. It was early on in my time out east. I had just finished escorting a caravan to Tenpony Tower for the Society. I'd been on a walkabout through the place, having heard a lot about it from the other guards; felt like seeing what all the hype was about.

The jacket had caught my eye while I passed a clothing boutique. The fresh pouch of caps in my saddlebags cried out to be spent, and there I was looking at a black leather jacket with a pony skull emblazoned on the back. It'd been just a couple of months since my exile, and I was feeling homesick. Given that I didn't have to cover my brand in Manehattan, I guess it was a little silly to worry about buying clothing; especially an item that wasn't so different from my brand. But, even I had once been known to do silly things out of a sense of misplaced sentiment.

Ah, to be young and stupid.

I looked at the writing on the back of the jacket for a brief moment, 'Tartarus's Hounds', before slipping it on. The boutique owner had informed me that the Tartarus Hounds had been some sort of pony clan or something before The Great War. The notion that there had been tribes using skulls for their brands before the Wasteland had tickled me a bit. I'd wondered if my own tribe could have been a remnant of theirs.

In any case, the jacket would serve to hide the mark of the White Hooves that rested between my shoulders. I'd be able to move around the city freely.

My eyes went back to Windfall, who was still laying quite still. If she hadn't improved by morning, I'd leave her somewhere. Maybe outside the Seaddle clinic or something. In case she awoke at some point while I was out, I left out a basin of water and a couple of bars of granola that I'd bought for dinner.

I turned to leave, but I hesitated at the door.

I looked in Windfall's direction again. The alabaster pegasus was breathing softly, but lay still otherwise. After her actions today, I was having fewer doubts about her prospects as a partner. The filly had impressed me.

She'd saved my life today. Not entirely by accident either. While I didn't think for a moment that the little filly had planned for that first robopony to do itself in by dislodging the side of the building; she had at the very least been hoping to distract it long enough for me to get somewhere safer. The young pegasus had taken the initiative to pose as a distraction, and had had the courage to intentionally attract the attention of a machine capable of rendering her into a pile of glowing ash. Even if she had been unaware that magical energy weapons could have that specific affect, she at least saw what those scarlet lances were doing to my cover.

Thinking about the situation, and if our places had been reversed; I wasn't entirely certain that I'd have done the same. Actually, I was certain that I wouldn't have. I'd have left the filly to die and saved myself. Nearly had, in fact.

Looking at the slumbering pegasus, knowing what she'd done for me; that knowledge that a monster like me had been saved by a filly like her...

You don't owe that little cunt a damn thing!

Not for the first time this week, I told that voice inside my head to shut its damn mouth. Then I stepped through the door, and locked it behind me.

It was the first time I'd left Windfall alone for any significant length of time since finding her at the brahmin ranch. I'd wanted her in my presence as much as possible, in order to help the filly to bond with me in her own mind. Tonight though, was different. She'd earned some rest with all that had happened the last few days; and I figured that I'd earn some 'me' time too.

Which left me on my own making my way through Seaddle during the rather lively evening hours.

Seaddle, like just about any settlement in the Wasteland, had no shortage of bars. Alcohol was a very popular solution to the problem of dealing with how much life out in the world sucked. So, naturally, the business of providing alcohol was a very widespread one. The only real variation was the atmosphere that surrounded the alcohol. You had your loud and upbeat clubs that promoted music and dancing. Then there were your social clubs that featured shows and gambling.

Then you had my preferred scene for the night: the secluded, quiet, dive. I didn't dance, I'd had enough of loud noises for a while, and I didn't need to be surrounded by a lot of ponies. All I wanted was to buy a few rounds of whiskey to help deal with my shoulder pain. Liquor worked almost as well as Med-X when it came to pain management; maybe not as rapidly, but it still numbed the body over time. It was also quite a bit cheaper per dose, and the withdrawal wasn't nearly as bad if you developed a dependency, in my opinion. Not that I had a drinking problem.

I was very satisfied with my drinking.

Fortunately, I didn't have to look for very long to find the sort of place I was interested in. It helped that I was familiar with where you could find those bars. They were frequently off the main roads, nearer to the less costly side of towns. Which meant that I didn't have very far to limp before I noticed a little shanty with light spilling out from under the door and a dim sign on the wall.

COLLARD'S

I could smell the cigar smoke and booze from here. This place would suit my needs just fine.

A haze of blue-gray smoke hung near the ceiling. A couple of dim lanterns connected to spark-batteries hung from the rafters, casting the room in soft yellow light. Beside the door, an aging brown earth pony leaned back in a chair, dragging his hooves across the strings of a guitar in a slow progression of chords that might have been a song. Aside from Guitar Pony and the lime green buck tending the bar, there might have been four other patrons in the place. None of them were talking, and only a couple looked to be actively nursing anything in front of them.

The barpony looked up in my direction, offering a slight nod from where he was leaning lazily against the bar. I returned the gesture and walked stiffly to an empty stool a couple spaces down from the nearest patron. The green buck kept his gaze on me. When I was seated, he raised an eyebrow, begging an unasked question.

“Wild Pegasus. Double. Straight,” I supplied. The barpony wordlessly brought out a glass and a bottle, pouring in the requested amount and bringing it over to me. He kept his hoof over the top of the drink.

“Three bits.”

I fished out the payment and he left me to drink in peace. Not bad. The whiskey was hardly watered down at all. I might have just found my regular hangout.

My attention was drawn by the sound of a door behind me opening. It wasn't the bar's entrance; that was off to my right. Curious, I looked back over my shoulder to see what the commotion was about. My eyes widened slightly.

“Hey, Green,” the cyan unicorn mare called out, a wry smile on her face. She didn't sound drunk, or sway on her hooves. If it was possible, she appeared to be genuinely happy about something, “you're out of TP...and down one washrag.”

The barpony grunted, but made no other response.

My eyes didn't leave the mare as she strutted up to the bar. I was drawn to her eyes first. They were...off. Cloudy yellow, like a ghoul's might be. That wouldn't have surprised me much. Not all ghouls were mindless zombies with a hankering for pony flesh like those at the sawmill had been. Some could be quite cordial; if a little odd at times. However, except for her eyes, there was nothing else about the blue mare that lent credence to her ghoulishness. Her hide was taught and nearly immaculate, except for a single faint scar running across her muzzle. She didn't look like a pony with mange that had been dried out in the sun like a piece of jerky. So, not a ghoul then.

Her sandy brown mane was tied back in a loose bun, leaving thin wispy bangs to fall across her brow. Her tail looked like it could have used a brushing, though it certainly wasn't a completely tangled mess. The dusty white bow tied at the base was a nice touch. It matched the color of her dress. Well, I called it a dress, but it had probably originally been lingerie before the war. It was lacy and shier in places, and completely form-fitting.

I was pretty confident that I had her profession pegged; if not the reason for her eyes looking the way that they did. It could be an early-onset ghoulification I suppose. Still, she was pretty enough, despite the scar, and a unicorn besides. If it weren't for ponies in Seaddle being a lot more knowledgeable about what my tattoo meant than ponies out east, I'd have definitely propositioned her. Still, one glimpse of the mark on my back...

“I'm blind.”

The words caught me off guard. The mare hadn't looked in my direction even once during her trip to the bar. She was looking at me now though, with those milky pale yellow eyes of hers. A wry smile on her lips, “so you can stop staring now. Or at least have the courtesy to say something.”

I guess I had been staring. I blushed a little, like a foal who'd been caught sneaking Sugar Apple Bombs before supper. My mouth opened to offer an apology, then I paused. Wait a minute, “if your blind, then how did you...?”

Her horn flared with a yellow light for a brief moment, and then the aura dimmed. It was only then that I realized that her horn had been glowing this entire time, just very dimly. Some sort of perpetual incantation, that I assumed helped her to perceived the world around her, “magic!” she looked towards the barpony, “pour me some apple schnapps. Put it on his tab,” she nodded her head in my direction.

I furrowed my brow, “what makes you think I'll pay for your drinks?”

The mare walked up to me, tilting her head coyly. She was looking almost perfectly in my direction, but not quite. Her eyes seemed to look right past me, not meeting my own. However she was able to use her horn to perceive the world around her, it wasn't perfect, “because you want to get under my tail,” she replied simply, reaching her left hoof up and rubbing it on the shoulder of my jacket, “and buying my drinks is a good first step.”

My snort seemed to surprise her. That I turned away to resume facing the bar and sip my whiskey compounded her confusion, “I don't do this foreplay shit,” I informed her bluntly, “give me an hourly rate or get lost.”

The mare sounded a little offended, “you think I'm a hooker?”

“Your either a hooker, or a slut,” I quipped. Then, seeing her glare, I amended, “or you're just trying to scam some drinks off the new buck,” the momentary look of embarrassment on the mare's face confirmed my guess. The look shifted into a scowl as she looked like she was about to retort, “I ain't a charity. You want booze from me, you better be offering more than some flirty words and a nuzzle on the neck.”

The barpony, in his first blatant show of outward emotion, burst out laughing. Not a little snicker either. The lime green buck was doubled over guffawing, “ha! That's got to be the quickest anypony's ever caught on to you, Vis,” this earned the barpony a glare from the unicorn as well, but he flatly ignored it.

“Nothing personal,” I went on after taking a sip of my whiskey, “you're pretty and all; but I nearly died earning these bits. You want 'em?” I glanced at her. Specifically, her eyes. If she really was blind, then that meant that there were certain details she was unlikely to notice. Depending on how perceptive her magic was, “well, you're right: I wouldn't mind a peek at what you've got going on under that bow. More than a peek, to be honest.

“So throw out a number, and we'll negotiate from there. If we reach a deal, then we can talk about that drink.”

“Wh-?!” the unicorn sputtered, “I am not that kind of mare!”

“Shame,” I shrugged, turning back to my drink, “if you were, I bet you could afford your own booze.”

Admittedly, I might have gone a little too far with that one. I could have just let the conversation drop right there. If this mare had scruples, then she was unlikely to help me with my rutting deficiency. It was becoming obvious that she wasn't actually a prostitute; she just liked trying to get bucks to buy things for her to save money. Perhaps it was just because I found her reaction to the insinuation rather out of place. Out east, you couldn't throw a pebble in a town without hitting a mare who was willing to spread her flanks for caps. Maybe there was a stigma in Seaddle that I'd forgotten about?

Still, too far or not, I wasn't just going to sit there and let her hit me. I had plenty of pains already. So, when the cyan mare lashed out to land a solid smack across my muzzle, I deflected it away with a quick swing of my hoof. I didn't strike her back, just blocked her blow. From the look on her face though, and the expressions on a couple of the others in the bar, you'd think I bucked her upside the head.

I looked at the barpony, ignoring the fuming mare beside me, “you let all your paying customers get assaulted like this? 'Cause, I could take my bits someplace else...”

That got the green buck's attention. He grunted at the unicorn, “Vis, why don't you take a walk?” it wasn't phrased like a question, “come back when you cool off.”

The unicorn kept her glare on me for a few more seconds. Then, with a snort, she turned and headed for the exit. I don't know what that spell of hers did to compensate for her blindness, but it certainly seemed affective. She didn't so much as brush a single stool or table on her way to the door, which she levitated open and then slammed shut behind her.

Another sip of whiskey. Upset or not, if that mare was bind...

She was certainly attractive enough, and a unicorn to boot, “does she have a story, or is she just naturally a bitch?”

“Vision?” the barpony said, glancing towards the door.

I snickered, “seriously?” the blind pony's name was 'Vision'? “Is that actually her name, or just a cruel joke?”

The barpony frowned at me, “name. Golden Vision. For her eyes, I think. The joke was what her ex-lover did,” I quirked an eyebrow, “the bastard blinded her. Took a pot of boiling water to her face. Gave her that scar too; but I think that was earlier.”

“Why'd he do that?”

The green buck shrugged, “since when did anypony need an excuse to be an ass? He got pissed off, cut her up, and splashed some boiling water in her face. Mare like her doesn't have the bits for an autodoc, so...” another shrug.

Not a rare story to hear.

Two hours and four refills later, I was ready to cash in for the night. The bar would still be here tomorrow after all. I paid off the rest of my tab, left the green buck—Collard Green was his name, I learned—a tip for stepping in to calm the mare down before things went further—and in hopes that the next time he'd bring out the better liquors—and headed for the door. Between the stiffness and the alcohol, my progress was very slow and deliberate. Perhaps I even appeared drunk, though the truth was that I was far from it. I certainly felt the alcohol gently caressing my brain, but I was a far sight from impaired.

Seaddle probably didn't sleep. As late as it was by now, there were still signs of obvious life. Ponies coming and going from various clubs and bars, some singing and laughing. Ponies enjoying life, as though the world wasn't completely fucked up beyond the walls of the fortress-city they lived in. Somewhere, I was certain that a squad of Steel Rangers and NLR soldiers were exchanging fire. A ganger was raping a mare unlucky enough to get caught. A foal was starving to death.

But right here, in this city, those realities were far from the minds of these ponies.

And who could blame them?

I rounded a corner and began making my way back to the apartment. I hadn't gone far when I heard the sound of hoofsteps behind me. Soft. Light. Likely a young colt or filly hoping to snatch some bits out of the saddlebags of a drunken buck stumbling his way home from the bar. They were going to be sorely disappointed.

This was going to be uncomfortable though. My shoulder wasn't going to be happy with this at all. But, a little pain was better than being robbed of my hard-earned bits.

I kept walking, pretending I hadn't heard anything. I even went so far as to exaggerate my stumbling, making it look a little bit more like I was genuinely inebriated. The steps grew closer.

When they sounded like they were almost directly behind me, I feigned a stumble. My right foreleg buckled out from under me. A pony who was genuinely drunk would have rolled forward onto their side; however, I was not drunk. Instead of falling forward, I swung my hips around in a one-hundred and eighty degree arc. Now facing my would-be assailant, I pushed myself back up with my foreleg, wincing at the pain as my injured shoulder protested the movement. On my hooves again, I leaped forward with a powerful thrust of my hind-legs, launching myself at my stalker.

There was a surprised scream that was cut off abruptly as my fetlock caught them in the throat and pitched them backwards. Now standing over my assailant, I grinned down at them, “Thought you could sneak up on me, punk—huh?”

I was staring into a pair of wide milky yellow eyes framed by a cyan face. Then there was a flash of yellow right in front of my eyes brighter than anything I'd ever seen in my life. It was as though somepony had created an orb out of a thousand spark-battery powered lights and placed them right inside my eyeballs. I reflexively recoiled, crying out as I felt my eyes start to water. Then four dainty hooves connected with my chest and pitched me backwards. I hit the ground with a grunt.

I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see a damn thing. It was all a swirling mass of green and red, “the fuck?!” I shook my head, futilely trying to restore my sight, “you blinded me, you fucking bitch!” if I had any idea which direction she was, I'd have charged her and pounded her face into mush. I. Was. Pissed.

“You attacked me,” Vision defended, sounding like she was a few yards in front of me.

I lunged in the direction of the sound, but I didn't find anything, “you were sneaking up on me!”

“I just wanted to talk,” she was off to my right now. I lunged again, and missed a second time, “calm down. It'll wear off in a minute.”

My lips curled back in a snarl, but I refrained from making another grab for her. I was just making a fool of myself groping around in the sea of swirling colors. It galled me that this unicorn was genuinely blind, and yet possessed a better awareness of her surroundings than I did. I guess it came with practice...and being a unicorn. Fucking magic, “so talk,” I growled.

“You said you risked your life for those bits,” if this was some sort of robbery, I was going to snap that mare's neck; sight or no sight, “did you kill for them?”

What was this, an interrogation? She wasn't with the city guard, and even if she was: she couldn't just go up to them a say, “he killed somepony” and get me arrested. Especially in the NLR, she'd need proof. A body and a bloody weapon for starters. Not that killing crazy robots was a crime. That old farmer maybe, but technically, I hadn't killed him.

“I've killed ponies before, yeah. Who hasn't. So what?”

There was a pause. The swirling colored mass in front of my eyes was growing less opaque. I could see sources of light in the distance, but little else, “if I paid you, would you kill somepony for me?”

That caught me off guard a little. Trying to get me caught for conspiracy? The street had been empty when I jumped her, but who knew how many ponies were around us now. If a couple of guards were nearby, talking about arranging a hit on somepony might be enough to get me locked up. Though, her voice had gotten pretty low at this point. Plus, I was pretty sure a hit contract wouldn't be subject to any NLR 'war tax'.

“Depends on who,” I replied softly, in a hesitant tone; just in case this was a setup, “and for how much. Death is cheap. Killing ain't. And considering you can't afford your own booze, I doubt you could offer me enough for whatever it is you want,” I could finally make out shadowy forms. The mare wasn't too far away, and we were alone as far as I could tell.

“What about a trade?”

I made my way cautiously out of the middle of the narrow street, “maybe. If it's stuff I can pawn or use.

“Who do you want dead?”

“His name is Adz. He leads a small crew out in the Ruins,” her tone was cold. This was personal, and very serious.

“How big a crew?”

“A dozen. Maybe a few more by now.”

“What's their racket?”

“What?”

“Drugs? Slaves? Raiding,” I offered, a little annoyed. At least my sight had just about completely returned though, “what does Adz's crew get into?”

“Oh. Raiding.”

So, that meant a lot of firepower. They'd need to be well armed to overcome any security a target might have, and they'd probably be holed up somewhere very defensible where they could sit on their hauls until they could fence them. Somewhere that they could bunker down and repel an assault by NLR forces. A lot of firepower means a lot of risk.

“Three thousand.”

Her jaw dropped, “three thousand?! To kill one buck?”

“Three thousand to, first, fight my way into a fortified gang lair full of raiders, kill 'one buck', and then fight my way out. Unless you can think of a way to get him alone,” I looked at her curiously, “then it'd just be five hundred.”

“I don't have five hundred bits,” she admitted, “I can come up with three hundred in a few days...”

“Then call me when you have five hundred and know how to get him alone,” I turned around and started to walk away.

The unicorn rushed after me, cutting me off. Her face was a mask of fear, “please! You have to help me!”

I narrowed my eyes at her, “I don't have to do anything. Certainly not for you. Come up with a plan and five hundred bits, and then we'll talk.”

“He's going to have me killed!”

“Then go to the guard,” I tried to step around her, but the cyan unicorn stayed in my path. This was actually starting to get annoying.

“Why would the guard help me? They don't go after raiders unless one of the caravan guilds pays them to.”

“Then I guess you need to get those bits.”

“Three-fifty!” she blurted desperately.

“Five hundred,” was my even reply.

“I can't come up with that kind of money in time!”

“Oh well,” I shoved past the mare, knocking her out of the way.

I made it a half dozen steps when I heard the mare's next outburst, “a night!”

My hooves came to a stop. Peering back over my shoulder, I could see the cyan unicorn looking uneasy. I wasn't sure if I'd understood her correctly, but I had a feeling that I had, “excuse me?” I stepped closer to the mare so that she wouldn't have to talk so loudly.

She glared at me, “one night. You wanted under my tail, at the bar? One night, if you kill him. I can lure him out.”

“One night,” I nodded, a smile touching my lips. I wondered just how well her magic allowed her to 'see', “and three hundred bits.”

The mare's look was baleful. For a moment, I thought that she might refuse the offer, but then she bowed her head and gave a slight nod.

“Alright. Let's talk then,” I directed the mare to walk at my side so that we could work out the details of the hit. Her discomfort at the agreed upon price of the contract made her uneasy, so I was careful not to crowd her too much. There would be time enough for that later, “how do you plan to get him alone?”

“I don't—”

“Actually,” I cut her off, “why is he after you? Maybe we can use that,” the mare didn't answer, “these details could keep you alive and make him dead. Either talk or go away.”

She glared at me again, but this time she answered, “we have a history,” the buck who blinded her, I guessed. That made some sense. The bar pony had made it sound like it had happened years ago though. There certainly was no evidence of any recent injury on the mare's face. If Adz hadn't thought maiming her was enough of a punishment for whatever transgression Vision had committed against him, then why wait so long to come after her? “I got away, but a couple weeks ago, he found out I was in Seaddle. He arrived a few days ago. Came into town; said I could either come back to him, or he'd kill me.”

“Unicorn or earth pony?”

“Earth pony.”

I thought in silence for a minute. Best case scenario, we get Adz to meet us at a neutral site in the Ruins. We could set up an ambush and catch him off guard. Or, perhaps convince him to meet us in town. That would restrict the support he could bring, but it'd be harder to kill him and get away with it. If NLR soldiers showed up, we'd be hard pressed to plead a case of self-defense. Adz probably wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything in the city either; especially if he'd opted to stay outside of it thus far. What wasn't an option was meeting him on his own terms.

“Is it purely personal? Why's he after you? Just a possessive jerk, or did he buy you?” slavery had only recently been outlawed in the NLR, and something told me a buck like Adz didn't have much regard for legality anyway. Knowing what motivated him would help me determine a way to get him to do what we needed. If Adz was nothing but a spurned lover, that would make things complicated, but if he'd looked at Vision as his property...That opened up possibilities.

The mare winced. She didn't meet my gaze, “...yeah. He bought me...”

“So he's after property,” I murmured, “good. We can work with that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Send a message to him. Tell him that you want to buy your freedom.”

She shook her head, “Adz isn't interested in bits.”

“You aren't going to use bits,” I informed her, “you're going to offer him another mare. A pegasus filly. I bet a buck like him is open to trading up to a younger model,” nopony went as far as this stallion had just to walk away empty hoofed. However, nopony who dealt in slaves, in my experience, would be opposed to walking away with a different slave than the one he'd come for; especially if that one was a young exotic filly that he could 'train' to his own tastes. Adz shouldn't be able to resist the bait that I had in mind.

Vision looked at me in bewilderment, “how's that going to work? He's not going to hang around long when he sees it's just us.”

“Just you, actually,” I corrected, “you and the pegasus filly. I will be out of sight.”

“You know a pegasus filly? Here?”

“Yep,” I nodded. A plan was forming in my head. I had the bait, the execution, and the target; now all that was needed was a location that would give us the advantage, without putting Adz ill at ease. Someplace in the Ruins. I recalled now the little orphanage that Windfall and I had found during our spark-battery foraging. It should suit our needs perfectly.

“Here's what you're going to tell him...”

This day may have ended on a low note, what with being swindled out of money that I had earned honestly for the first time in years—see if I ever bother with that again—but it was looking like tomorrow was going to be a brighter day. Metaphorically speaking, of course. The prospect of both earning some easy bits by shooting some buck in the head, coupled with the anticipation of my secondary, much more precious, compensation had put a renewed spring in my step. I almost felt like I was on my way to Stable 69.

Of course, there was still one little detail to iron out on my end while Golden Vision contacted the target: I needed Windfall coherent. It wouldn't be enough for her to simply be there. She had to be able to function. Both so that Adz would be compelled to see the filly as a viable product, and so that the young pegasus could actually contribute to the plan that I had in mind. I could only be in so many places at once, and despite our instructions to the contrary, there was no way that Adz was about to meet with Vision alone. He wouldn't have lived as long as he had if he was stupid enough to do that.

I needed a second set of eyes—no pun intended—and, more importantly, a second weapon at hoof.

That was, assuming, that Windfall hadn't ended up with more than a bump on that noggin of hers. If that was the case, then this was going to be a lot more complicated.

I slipped the key into the lock of the door leading to the apartment and gave it a twist until I heard the telltale click. I pushed it open and reached over to flick the switch on the nearby spark-battery powered lights in the room. My eyes went to the pillow where I had left the filly, expecting to see her still there curled up and sleeping. Imagine my surprise when she wasn't.

My head whipped around the room, searching for any sign of her. It didn't take long to scan it, since it was pretty much just one single room with a wash basin on one side, a bed on the other, and a locker in between them. Yet, there was no sign of the little pegasus filly. That was...peculiar. It wasn't like there were any windows for her to climb out of, and the door had most certainly been locked. She had to be here!

I took a few cautious steps inside, my eyes darting up to the ceiling briefly just in case. She was a pegasus after all. Then my ear twitch as I detected the faint sound of a muffled whimper. It had come from the direction of the bed. With a grimace, I bent my head down and peered along the floor. Sure enough, there she was; curled up into a tight downy ball of fluff and pinions. Crying about something too, by the sound of it. Perfect.

“Come out from there,” I said in a bored tone. I was tired, a little liquored, and still a bit aggravated about the bounty issue. Right now my patience for dealing with tears was pretty thin.

At my words, the filly jerked her head up. A little too quickly by the look of things. She also seemed to have forgotten where she was, and ended up smack herself pretty good on the underside of the old box-spring. That would do her concussion a lot of good, I bet...

The filly seemed to recover rather quickly from that knock though. The next thing I knew, she had bolted out from under the bed and latched herself onto my neck like a white and teal slave collar. All the while, a string of incomprehensible babbles came cascading out of her mouth.

“OhthankcelestiaIdidn'tknowwhereIwasorwhereyouwereorifyouwerealiveandwhenyouweren'thereIthoughtI'dbeen takenbythewhitehoovesandIwasscaredand-”

I recoiled in a futile attempt to get away from the blubbering filly that had wrapped her hooves around my neck in what I would have called a fair approximation of a stranglehold if it weren't for all the crying. It was certainly tight enough to restrict my ability to utter more than choked demands for the filly to let go and slow down.

I liked her better when she was unconscious...

“Let...go!” I finally managed to croak out loud enough for the little pegasus to hear over the din of her own prattling. Her words stopped abruptly and the filly dropped down from around my neck. She did not, however, calm herself very much. At least when she continued, she was only clinging to my leg.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” she sobbed, “I was just so scared. I woke up, and there was blood all over me, and you weren't here. I thought,” her voice caught for a moment, “I thought the White Hooves had gotten me!”

I took a moment to massage and clear my throat. If she didn't loosen her grip on my leg, my hoof was going to start to go numb in a bit. I tugged away from the filly with the leg, hoping that she would take the hint let go on her own recognizance. When the filly didn't, continuing to whine about how scary the nice warm room with food and water had been for the twenty minutes since she'd woken up, I began to get a little annoyed.

Beat the tears out of her, a gruff buck sneered in the back of my mind.

It worked for me, a mare added without the usual notes of sarcasm that I had come to expect from her, it taught me to be tough.

I hesitated, mulling over the advice that my delusions were feeding me. On the one hoof, what my father had done to Whiplash had made her the sort of ruthless mare that I was hoping this pegasus might one day be. On the other hoof, she had not regarded him with any sense of devotion either. Still...the filly did need to learn some discipline. I wasn't going to tolerate much more of this sort of reaction from her. In the past, when I'd thought of her as somepony else's problem, that was one thing. She was going to be my problem now though. That meant she needed to learn when she was, and when she was not allowed to grab me.

My free hoof rose into the air, ready to deliver a solid smack across the filly's face and shock her out of the state that she was in. She'd understand why I'd done it in time.

...Be kind...

I froze. I'd heard voices for a long time. Just about as far back as I could remember really. However, there had only ever been the two of them, and they had been very specific voices. Ones from my past. My dead father, and my backstabbing sister. I knew their voices and tones well. They'd haunted me all through Hoofington and Manehattan. They'd followed me back to Neighvada. In some ways, I was even comforted by their presence—despite how much they could aggravate me sometimes.

But those words just now...the voice that had uttered them...

I didn't know it. I'd never heard that voice before.

How much more of your mind are you losing, Jackboot? What did that voice even mean anyway? 'Be kind.' 'Be weak' was more like it. Kindness was a personality flaw that I had been taught to exploit at every instance. If a pony approached you in friendship, you took him into bondage and made him work for you.

I didn't need to be kind to this filly. I needed to be firm with her. She had to learn boundaries. If that meant a smack to the face ever so often, where was the harm in that?

Again, I drew back to strike Windfall, even as she continued to extol upon her fears that I had been killed by the robot in the factory.

Again, the new voice invaded my mind, be kind...

Windfall was just scared. She had ever reason to be. Her last waking memory had been of a robot five times her size shooting at her with a magical death beam. When she had woken up, she'd been alone. Bloody. In pain. The only pony she knew in this whole city—me—had been absent, without leaving so much as a note or any other indication that I'd survived as well.

She didn't need a hoof strike to set her right.

Slowly, my upraised arm lowered. It came to rest on the filly's back. This startled the little pegasus to silence. Her tear filled eyes looked up at me expectantly.

“Everything's fine,” I assured her. My tone wasn't what could be described as gentle. I wasn't used to speaking like that to anypony I wasn't trying to proposition. But, it should at least do something to put the filly more at ease, “I ain't hurt, and a little water will get you cleaned up and looking good as new,” I was rewarded with the sight of the filly relaxing noticeably, “I wasn't here, because I was out finding more work for us.”

Windfall's ears drooped a little, “we didn't get the batteries?”

“No, we got 'em,” I frowned now at the memory of my exchange with the clerk, “that contract just didn't pay as much as I thought it would. Political bullshit, or some such. So we need another job, and I got us one that should be a little easier.”

“Will we have to fight more robots?” she asked, sounding fearful. I imagined that the pegasus would have a healthy respect for the lethality of roboponies for the rest of her life now.

“Nope. Just a couple of ponies,” I informed her.

This revelation made Windfall even more fearful, “what?! But why?” her tail curled up around her cutie mark, concealing it from view. Her 'reward' for having killed a pony in the past.

Because a nice mare has offered to let me fuck her if I do, was the answer I gave inside my head. Anticipating that the filly would not see the merit in such a contract, I fed her a much more palatable line, “because they are raiders who have been harassing a blind mare around here. I'm pretty sure they're trying to catch her and make her a slave. She has offered to pay us some bits if we take care of them for her.”

Most of the concern melted from the filly's face, “we're helping somepony fight bandits? Just like the Mare-do-Well?”

I frowned for a moment, not realizing at first what the filly was talking about. Then I recalled the pegasus' penchant for listening DJ-PON3's frequent accounts of the actions of some mare in Manehattan. Apparently this mare had decided a smart career move was to piss off every slaver and bandit in Equestria; and all accounts had her doing it without any sort of overt monetary compensation. The radio jockey calls her, 'the hero Equestria needs,' whatever that means. My opinion was that she was a dumbass who was looking to get herself killed for nothing.

But whatever helped the filly rationalize this. Besides, we were helping out somepony with a raider problem. I knew the Mare-do-Well had done that once or twice. Though I doubt she'd done it under contract for sex. Never knew though, “pretty much,” this seemed to assuage Windfall's concerns.

The crying abated, and Windfall's mood seemingly improved over what it had been upon my return, I set down to divulging my plan to the filly.

I tugged on the string with my teeth, cinching the knot down on the stem of the tiny metal sphere. I made sure that the grenade was held in place by the rubble I'd collected and then laid out the string deep into the orphanage's interior. I passed the end of the line to Windfall.

“I don't know exactly how many of them will be coming, but the moment the first one steps into the doorway, yank on the string. Then get down as low as you can. Don't get up until I tell you it's clear. Understand?”

The filly nodded, taking the offered end of the line, “got it,” I turned away to continue with the preparations.

The plan for this encounter was simple: Adz shows up with a few goons despite being requested to come alone—because raiders weren't complete morons. Vision offers to buy her freedom using Windfall as appeasement. Adz agrees and then immediately renegs on the deal and tries to take them both—because that's what raiders did. Windfall detonates the grenade the moment he steps hoof inside the entryway, maiming—hopefully killing—most of them. I come out of hiding from across the street and gun down the survivors.

On paper, it was a solid plan, I thought. Still, things often had a tendency to go wrong. A dull pain in my shoulder and my shredded barding were keen to remind me of this. However, I was short on contingency options. Vision was blind, and though she'd found a way to somehow let her magic guide her through the world, I wasn't going to trust her was a gun if it came to that. I didn't even know if she'd ever fired a weapon before. Depending on how long she'd been a slave, the answer was probably never.

That left: Windfall. I'd been taking her shooting, and she'd at least learned the principals of marksmareship. That said, I still recalled clearly her reaction upon shooting the farmer. The filly probably couldn't be counted on to do any killing if it was needed, but I still would feel better about a second firearm on our side in this equation. If nothing else, it might help to divide the attention of the attackers if the grenade failed in its mission.

I passed the .22 pistol to the little filly, “keep it under your wing. Out of sight,” the pegasus looked nervous as she took the weapon tentatively, “don't worry, you shouldn't need it,” I hoped. The assurance didn't look like it had helped her much.

Next was finding a suitable location from which to observe Adz and his crew approaching, where they would not be able to easily notice me in return. Ideally, that would be from one of the upper floors across the street. I'd have the high ground, a clear line of fire, and a long line of sight on the street. What such a location would not allow me to do, was make a speedy entry into the shop if anypony from Adz's crew survived the grenade. I'd have to be at ground level.

My eyes went to a dumpster in an alleyway. Eyes on the orphanage entrance, and not immediately visible to anypony who wasn't suspecting a trap. Which, I hoped that Adz wasn't. I couldn't see why he would. To him, Vision was just some dumb slave that was lucky enough to give him the slip, and had now just arranged a secluded meeting with him in order to buy her freedom. His plan should undoubtedly be to swoop in, nab Vision and Windfall both, and go back to his little lair to enjoy his good fortune.

Speaking of, I couldn't believe what being a month into my current bout of celibacy was prompt me to go through for a night of satisfaction. Don't get me wrong, I've taken on some long odds before, but never just for a single night with a mare I'd never known before yesterday. Especially a mare who wasn't a professional. Whores like Saffron had years of experience under their saddles, and really knew how to make sure you got your bits worth. And while I was confident I knew the sort of duties that Vision had been expected to perform while in Adz's company; that didn't mean that I could count on the raider pony to have given the cyan unicorn any real education in that department.

Whatever. It wasn't like I had a lot of options here.

My plan of action clear in my mind, and Windfall positioned and ready for her part, I glanced around for the third player in our performance today. She should be arriving any moment now...ah, there she was. A cyan unicorn popped into view, walking towards us down the road. There was something surreal about a blind mare walking through the Ruins of Seaddle looking so at ease. This place was rife with robots, gangs, and monsters that posed a serious threat even to ponies with perfect visual acuity. I'd offered to escort her here personally, since I couldn't collect either facet of my pay from a mare who died on the way to the meet, but she'd insisted that it wasn't necessary. I really needed to ask her what her spell did exactly that allowed her to navigate with so little difficulty.

I waved at her to get her attention...

...and then immediately face-hoofed. I had just waved to a blind pony.

And then she waved back. Of course she waved back. I started to doubt if she was actually blind. Maybe her eyes were just off-colored.

When she got nearer, I motioned towards the orphanage; suddenly less self-conscious about using leg gestures when communicating with Vision. She'd seen my wave, after all, “we're ready here. All you have to do is get Adz to follow you inside. Windfall will detonate a grenade, and I'll finish off anypony that's left,” I withheld mentioning that Windfall was armed. The unicorn already knew that the pegasus was a filly, and had seemed quite uncomfortable with the plan thus far. I didn't need her to start voicing objections about its composition right now. Adz would be here soon.

The unicorn mare looked at the surroundings, examining the interior of the building. How thoroughly, exactly, could a blind pony examine anything? She glanced in my direction, with her milky yellow eyes that looked past my own. Her expression was one of concern, “what do you mean 'anypony that's left'? It's just supposed to be Adz...”

I cracked a lopsided smile, idly wondering if Vision could perceive facial expressions too, “Adz won't be alone. Ponies like him never go anywhere alone,” Vision began to look even more nervous than before. The last thing I needed was for her to start having second thoughts. Realistically, it was too late to back out now. As close as we were to the planned meeting time, we'd almost certainly run into Adz and his crew on our way back. And without a handy ambush, he'd tear us apart.

I needed to offer up something encouraging to put her more at ease, “but don't worry, I've taken on tougher stallions than wannabe punks like this Adz.”

Vision began to shake her head, “you don't know Adz,” she insisted, her voice starting to quaver, “he's no pushover. He's...he's...”

“A dead pony the moment he puts a hoof through that door,” I assured her, doing my best to hide my annoyance. All I needed her to do was stand in the middle of the toy shop. That was all that she had to do, “you need to trust me on this; I've dealt with his kind before, and worse,” every once in a while, the White Hooves found it necessary to...'encourage' lesser groups to be more receptive to our rightful dominance of the region. Compared to the tribes and gangs that we'd tangled with just in my own lifetime, Adz and his small crew of robbers were insignificant.

“Besides,” I assured her, “anypony who makes it inside with you and Windfall will have been fucked up by the grenade. They shouldn't be much of a threat.”

“Okay,” she sounded at least a little bit less regretful of this undertaking now, if not comfortable with it. She glanced around, “who's Windfall?” she asked. I nodded my head inside. She could see that, right? Er...detect it? Whatever. She turned and looked anyway.

“Hello,” the pegasus filly greeted amiably, stepping up to us, “you're the nice pony we're helping, right?”

Vision smiled weakly at the little white pony, “yeah, that's me. Thanks for doing this.”

“No problem,” at least Windfall sounded optimistic about what was supposed to happen today. I suspect that thinking of herself as a younger version of the Mare-do-Well had a lot to do with that.

The unicorn flashed me a brief look. I wasn't certain how I was supposed to take it, but I didn't get the impression that she was wishing me any sort of goodwill. Whatever. She didn't have to like me. She just had to keep up her end of our agreement. After that, she could do whatever the hell she wanted, and think of me how she pleased.

I looked around once more. We needed to get into position, now that the pleasantries were out of the way. I ushered to two mares into the building, double checking to make certain that Windfall still had the string, and that they were standing clear of the blast.

“They'll be here soon,” I murmured. I looked at Vision, “get them to come to the doorway. Whatever it takes,” without another word, I ducked out of the shop and dashed low across the road to the alley across the way. I slipped into the dumpster, cringing at the rotted contents. Even after two hundred years, certain articles somehow still felt wet and slimy. Something told me that ponies had continued to use this thing for its intended purpose since the balefire bombs had dropped. Lovely.

My hoof went into my saddlebags and dug out a vial of Dash. Vision had brought up a good point: I didn't know Adz. For all I knew, he was some sort of massive cybernetic monster with chainsaws for legs. I mean, I highly doubted that was the case, but the argument remained: I was going into this fight blind. I hadn't tailed his crew for the better part of a day to observe their firepower and habits. That's what had gone wrong with the farmer. I hadn't been able to learn that he was a properly paranoid son-of-a-mule who toted that shotgun everywhere he went, even in his own damn house. It had allowed him to catch me unawares.

I wasn't going to let Adz do the same.

It was nearly fifteen minutes before I caught sighte of anypony in the street. Six ponies walked leisurely into view. All of them were armed, and most wore some sort of armored barding. At the front of the group was a tan earth pony with chocolate hair and some sort of chisel looking thing for a cutie mark. He wasn't wearing any barding, but I did see a larger caliber submachine gun tucked snugly into a holster at his side. Two other ponies, a reddish unicorn and a silver earth pony, were engaging him in conversation; exchanging the occasional laugh. The other three were casting their gaze up and down the street, watching out for trouble.

Horseapples. He'd brought half his fucking crew! This was going to suck. My shoulder was still pretty stiff from the incident at the farm, and there was more than a little pain radiating from the freshly cracked rib; though it had dulled considerably from yesterday. I wasn't going to be in my best form for this fight, even with the Dash. No help for it though. We'd stick with the plan. I still had the element of surprise, the Dash, and I'd be hitting them from behind after an explosion. Even the ponies who escaped being maimed by the blast's shrapnel would at least be disoriented by the noise and concussion wave of the explosion. It should also firmly anchor the attention of the lookouts away from my hiding place.

I held the inhaler in my mouth, and loosened the 9mm in my holster for a smoother draw. I was ready to take a puff and swap for the weapon as quickly as possible, watching them near the entrance to the orphanage. Vision stood in the doorway, looking in the direction of the group of raiders. I could see how scared she was from here. She'd naively expected Adz to come alone, and even though I'd warned her that he would bring support, I doubted that she'd anticipated so many others with him. I certainly hadn't.

What kind of raider thought he'd need six ponies to nab two 'unsuspecting' mares; one of them blind?

“Well, well, well; ain't you a sight for sore eyes,” the gruff voice of the lead buck greeted, chuckling to himself. Puns, really? That had to be Adz, “Never thought I'd see you again, Vision,” a second—or did her name count as the third?—offense in as many seconds. I'd be doing the Wasteland a favor killing this stallion, in more ways than one.

“And you won't ever see me again,” the mare countered, her voice wavering slightly. I hoped that she'd be able to keep herself together and execute the plan, “that's the deal. I give you a new...companion, and you leave me alone forever. Agreed?”

“Sure, sure!” the buck waved a hoof dismissively, as though their agreement was more than satisfactory. Had he even tried to conceal the insincerity? I certainly hoped not. Only a complete moron would have believed him. That was fine. It's not like we were planning to hold up our end of this bargain either, “but first I'll need to see what I'm getting...” Seriously? He'd even already used that one. The least that he could do was come up with fresh material.

“...She's inside,” Vision turned and strode inside the doorway. Adz and the others followed after her. I placed my hoof on the Dash ampule, ready to administer it.

“Ho-ho! A pegasus filly!” I could hear Adz crow happily from inside the orphanage, “you do have an eye for fin-”

Thankfully, and perhaps even as an act of cosmic justice, the buck gang leader's latest attempt at sight-based derisive humor was punctuated by an explosion and a half dozen screams. A cloud of gray dust enveloped the doorway and masked everypony from sight for a few seconds. I depressed the Dash inhaler and took in a deep breath. The world obligingly slowed down for me. The empty inhaler was swapped for the textured grip of my pistol, and then I was leaping out from the confines of the dumpster that I'd been hiding in.

The haze of smoke was clearing as the breeze blowing down the street carried it away, revealing the aftermath of our trap. The Dash saturating my body allowed for me to spend a copious amount of mental seconds processing what was before me as I closed the distance.

Gangs of raiders are an abstract concept. By their very nature, there isn't anything standardized about them, like there is with professional armies or mercenary groups. By that I mean, there isn't a armor style that is only employed by ponies in a gang. Though I will grant that many of the higher profile groups do adopt certain visual cues to broadcast their affiliations. Generally only after their group has attained a certain amount of regional notoriety though. Flashers were mares that wore glitter and garish paint, specializing in magical energy weaponry. Reapers favored red coloring, and were considered masters of hoof-to-hoof combat. White Hooves painted their feetlocks with bonemeal and had a penchant for blades. That sort of thing. The ponies ahead of me didn't seem to have any strong theme going.

That being said, they did give off a certain gang 'vibe'. Mostly because of how little they had in common, interestingly enough. It was clear that the barding and equipment that they were wearing was just what the individual ponies could afford; and this being a small low-profile gang, that wasn't much. It certainly hadn't been very tough armor either, judging by how much damage that single grenade had done.

At least two of them had been killed outright by the blast. I couldn't get a clear look through all of the blood to confirm whether or not either of the ponies was Adz though. Not that it mattered right this moment. I was coming to finish off the lot of them. To that end, I lined up the pistol's sights on the nearest reeling buck.

Three bullets punched through his thin leather armor and ripped into his chest, pitching mists of crimson blood out the other side of his body. The buck let out a choked scream and collapsed to the ground, still. Two more bullets went into the neck of a mare who had been in the process of getting herself up off the ground after being knocked back by the blast. She didn't even see who shot her as the two lead slugs opened up her neck. Her eyes went wide as she thrashed about in a vain effort to staunch the thick flows of blood with her hooves.

My third target managed to recover enough of his wits to realize that his life was in imminent danger. A dull orange unicorn stallion whose face was streaked with blood from a dozen tiny shrapnel wounds had heard the gunshots coming from behind him and reeled around to face their source. A purple glow appeared around a nearby shotgun, which leaped up into the air and directed itself at my head.

The Dash allowed me to process the scene in fine detail. If I turned and charged, I'd be presenting him with a much narrower silhouette to aim at, but I wouldn't be able to maneuver as much. Plus, if he did score a hit, it would most likely catch me in the face. Not keen on getting a dozen lead pellets blasted into my eye socket, I instead continued my tangental charge, carrying me towards the building's exterior wall. I was sprinting full tilt, so hopefully I would be moving fast enough to make a difficult target, despite presenting him with a broader profile to hit.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blast of fire and smoke erupting from the barrel of the unicorn buck's weapon. Moment of truth.

Behind me, I heard the distorted sound of metal gouging out chunks of concrete. I also felt a sensation similar to somepony snipping off several hairs of my tail with scissors. I didn't dare spare the second to confirm my suspicions, but I was confident that the ganger buck's shot had been much closer than I would have preferred. It didn't impede my progress at least.

I arced my path slightly as I neared the wall. To my left, I could hear the shotgun's pump sliding back to ratchet another shell into the chamber. My hind legs propelled me upwards as the rest of my body twisted, planting my forelegs on the painted wooden siding. The momentum of my run carried me as I effectively 'ran' along the side of the building for what was barely a single step. The plank ahead of me exploded, spraying my chest and jaw with splinters of yellow wood. The buck nearly had me bracketed.

The shotgun chambered a third shell. In all likelihood, the unicorn would not miss me this time, and I was close enough to the weapon that the shot spread would be nearly non-existent. Any hit he scored on me would be completely unswayed by my tattered barding and burrow deep into my body. To put it simply: I'd be fucked.

Fortunately, I was finally in a position to deliver my own attack. I pushed off the wall with my fore-hooves, using my rear legs to add additional power to my blow. The buck gritted his teeth and brought the weapon around to catch me with his shot, but the Dash was still flowing through my veins, and my body was moving far more quickly than even his telekinesis could react to. My fore-hooves caught him in the chest and pitched the orange stallion backwards. The magic field surrounding the shotgun evaporated and the weapon fell to the ground, unfired.

I bent my head down, the pistol still gripped in my mouth. The ganger's violet eyes widened as he looked up at me. There was fear there now, where before had been anger and hatred. He knew that this was his end. I'd been in a similar situation not too long ago. So I had a pretty clear idea what he was thinking about.

The pistol bucked in my mouth.

That made five corpses visible in the street. There had been six live ponies a minute ago though. I looked around at the bodies, seeing if perhaps I had miscounted. Maybe I had been wrong and three of the gangers had been killed in the explosion. Then my blood froze.

“Drop your weapon!” I heard Adz yell from beyond the doorway of the orphanage. His words were slightly slurred, as though he was speaking around something between his teeth, “drop it and step where I can see you,” there was a worried tinge in his voice; but it was nearly drowned out by his rage, “do it, or I drop both these bitches!”

Horseapples.

Adz hadn't been killed in the blast after all. He'd made it deep enough inside to escape the trap set for him. Naturally this'd be the one time that I encountered a three-to-five second fuse on a grenade that lasted for the full five seconds...

I could feel the Dash leaving my system too; which was rather inconvenient timing, I thought. If the chemical had still been coursing through my body, I'd have risked charging in armed, confident in my ability to take out one pony quickly using my pharmaceutical edge. But now, with the after-effects starting to set in, I'd be more likely to shoot Vision. Or even Windfall. My best option was to cooperate and hope that I could find someway to buy time. With luck, he wouldn't shoot me the moment I poked my head in.

I spit my pistol onto the ground, “alright! I'm coming in.”

“Slow!” the buck cautioned.

That was hardly necessary to stipulate. With the aftereffects that I was feeling, I wasn't confident enough in my steps to move with any sense of urgency for the time being. So, mindful of where my hooves were going, I stepped into the doorway, moving carefully over the body of a dead blue mare that had taken the brunt of the explosion. Ahead of me was a rather grim scenario.

Adz was holding the 10mm automatic weapon in his mouth. The barrel was pressed firmly against Vision's head. The stallion's left arm was wrapped around her neck, keeping the blind mare close to him. His eyes kept flashing between me and the mare's horn, which was completely devoid of its usual dim glow. He was prepared to blow her away at the first hint that she was using any magic. Off to the side, Windfall was looking at the pair with wide, scared, eyes. She looked to me as I entered the room and swallowed.

There was no sign of the .22 pistol on the floor of the room, which I hoped meant that Windfall still had it hidden away under her wing. If Adz didn't know that there was a second weapon involved in this little standoff we had going, that might be the edge we needed to get us out of this.

I looked at the filly, “you alright?” she nodded, but said nothing. Would I be able to convince her to take the shot herself; or should I try and arrange some sort of transfer so that I could take down the target? I'd seen the pegasus filly kill before when she saw me threatened, but she'd admitted that it was more of an accident.

Could I count on Windfall to bring herself to kill on purpose?

“She's fine. For now,” Adz cautioned, interrupting my thoughts. The sandy brown buck with a spiked black mane tightened his stranglehold on Vision's neck, causing the mare to let out a little choked cry, “whether they stay that way...that's up to you.”

Again I looked to Windfall. Adz wasn't going to let me get close to her, not if he intended to take them both as his slaves. If anypony was going to get the drop on the raider, it would have to be the filly. It was time to see how dedicated to this partnership the little pegasus really was, “it'll be alright. Just stay calm; like with that crazy farmer.”

The little pegasus' eyebrows furrowed for a brief moment, and then her eyes widened again. Her gaze darted briefly to her right wing. I made certain that my eyes didn't leave the filly's face. Adz was watching me very carefully. Hopefully that meant that he wasn't paying much attention to the 'helpless little filly' cowering in the corner of the room.

My gaze returned to the stallion. Now I just needed to give Windfall a decent opening, “so...what's the deal?”

“The deal?” the buck seethed around the weapon in his mouth, “the deal is that you iced my fucking crew! That's the deal! I ought to gun you down right where you stand...”

“...but you know if you take that gun off Vision, she'll snatch it with her magic,” I interrupted, allowing a wry smirk to creep onto my lips. The sneer that Adz flashed me confirmed my suspicion, “maybe you get me. Maybe you can wrestle the gun back. But maybe...you don't. So...?”

“So,” the buck snarled at me, obviously not at all happy with the situation he was in. He may have been the only pony in the room he knew to be armed, but he was still outnumbered, “you're going to step inside, and walk over to that corner there. Then, you're going to stand there, while me, this lying bitch,” he drilled the barrel of the weapon held in his teeth into the side of the mare's head, eliciting a pained squeak, “and the little filly, all leave. Together.

“Now, come in, and go over there,” he jerked both his and Vision's heads towards the right side of the room.

I kept my gaze locked on the stallion as I slowly made my way over to the side of the room that he indicated. The only thing that kept him from shooting me was his fear that the unicorn hostage in his grip would take advantage of that movement. Adz had also rightly assumed that I was not about to take any aggressive actions, lest he kill Vision. It wasn't that I particularly cared about the cyan mare. I may not have been able to collect my payment from a dead client, but I would forfeit payment gratefully if it meant surviving this encounter. However, if he killed her, then nothing would keep him from shooting me as well, and I was in no condition to cross even this short distance before he could do that.

As I moved, so too did Adz. We circled each other. My back to the wall as I sidestepped deeper into the lobby. His back towards Windfall as he moved closer to the open doorway. When the two of us were at the halfway point, I paused. Windfall was now standing directly behind him. Ideally, with the small caliber pistol drawn and at the ready; through I couldn't actually see her past Adz and Vision at this point.

Surprised by my move, but not about to get any closer to me than was absolutely necessary, Adz came to a halt as well. He glared at me, “the hell? Move!” he pushed the gun into Vision's head for emphasis. The mare cringed and whimpered.

I didn't move, “I want the filly to stay with me,” I informed him evenly, buying time. It was all I could do to keep myself from sounding anxious. I knew that Windfall had a tendency to spend a long time lining up her shots, but Adz was a lot closer and a lot bigger than those cans at the range had been. He should be nearly impossible to miss at this range, even for her.

So what was she waiting for?!

The other stallion glared at me, “are you fucking kidding me? This isn't a negotiation! Half my crew is dead, I ain't about to leave without compensation.”

“You have Vision,” I pointed out, keeping my tone level and calm. Which was getting harder with every passing second. He was going to start suspecting something any moment now, “the filly's mine,” damn it, Windfall; take the fucking shot!

“This bitch was already my property,” Adz reiterated back, squeezing her neck again, “the filly is compensation for what you did to the others. I got ponies back home who're gonna' be mighty upset their pals're dead. The pegasus will help them...cope,” a wicked smile played on his lips for a moment before the sneer returned, “so move!” he whipped his head around, using his grip on Vision's neck to keep the weapon pressed against her skull, “you, filly. Stay close t-”

POP!

There was an earsplitting scream.

The buck collapsed into a heap. Vision as well. Beyond them, I could see Windfall standing on shaking legs, the little pistol held in her mouth. Her eyes went wide, the weapon falling away as she rushed to the side of the blind mare. Had she somehow managed to hit the both of them, even with such a small caliber? I couldn't even see an exit wound on the buck.

It was soon clear that Vision hadn't been killed though. She was whimpering far too loudly for that.

I walked over and kicked the discarded submachine gun away from Adz's body. Just in case. I peered down at the buck, making certain that he was dead. If the bloody hole where his right eye had been was any indication, the buck was most certainly not going to be a threat any time soon. I looked over to the filly. She was proving to be quite an amazing shot. Especially when it came down to the wire. Most impressive.

“Miss Vision!” the filly called out, prodding the prone shivering mare with her hooves, “Miss Vision, are you alright?”

The unicorn's whimpers began to subside. She didn't look around, which was certainly understandable, “I...I thought...” her words trailed off.

I understood now. Unlike every other time I'd seen her up to this point, her horn hadn't even maintained that faint glow that suggested she was compensating for her blindness. Adz had probably insisted that even the slightest hint of an aura would be met with lethal reprisal. She hadn't noticed my look at Windfall, not registered that the filly had been behind the two of them. She certainly hadn't known that the filly was armed. All that she had known was that a gun was being held to her head, and that she'd heard a gunshot.

The poor mare had likely believed that she'd been the one shot. The slight scent of urine in the air probably couldn't be attributed entirely to the dead buck's own loosened bladder.

“You're alright,” I assured her. I pawed through the gang leader's belongings. A lot of ammunition—10mm of course—and some sort of collar. Not the explosive type that I would have expected him to bring in anticipation of acquiring a slave. This one was studded with a polished black stone. Jewelery? I pocketed it. Some bits, a health potion, Med-X. I'd search the other bodies on our way out, “Adz isn't going to be a problem for you anymore.”

Vision sat up and looked around. I saw that her horn was glowing with a dim yellow light once more. Her gaze didn't land precisely on where the brown buck's body lay, but it was close. Her expression was one of...relief? Like some ball of stress that she had carried around with her for a long time had been released. I suspected that she'd spent a good deal of her life looking over her shoulder—figuratively speaking—after running from Adz's clutches. Now, she no longer had to. I could only speculate on whether the surviving members of his gang would carry out any retaliation in his name, but that was her problem. I'd been contracted to take out Adz; and I had done that.

Well, okay, technically Windfall had taken him out I guess; but I looked at it as a group effort.

“I guess...that's it then,” Vision said quietly. Almost like she couldn't believe that it was over.

“Yep,” I replied, “we're done here. I'll meet you outside Collard's tonight to collect payment. You want us to walk you home?”

The mare looked around for a moment before getting to her feet on unsteady legs, “no. No, I need to get the bits together to pay you. I should head back before any shops close for the day.”

I nodded. To the pegasus, I said, “stay here while I check on the bodies outside.”

The filly nodded. I noticed that Vision's gaze lingered on the little white pegasus before she left. Then the unicorn mare looked at me. It was uncomfortable. Her head was facing in my direction, but her eyes peered slightly off target; looking just past me. Her mouth opened, then she paused. Her lips closed, the words unsaid. Then the cyan unicorn turned and walked out.

Weird.

The sun had nearly set by the time I saw Vision again. I'd arrived at the bar about an hour ago after hocking all the gear I was willing to part with and seeing that Windfall was fed and settled back at the apartment. The little filly had done very well today, and to show my appreciation, I'd bought us a radio to set up in the apartment. The little pegasus enjoyed the frequent broadcasts from DJ-PON3, and followed the exploits of that Mare-do-Well pony religiously. She was also engrossed by the daily speeches made by Princess Luna. Those sessions were rarely as revelatory as what the Manehattan disc-jockey had to report, but it was still the Goddess Returned.

I wasn't quite sure what to make of that yet. I'd heard the stories about how things were before the war; every foal did. I knew that Luna was our real and true ruler. A goddess. She would bring paradise back to us. At least, that was what her speeches promised.

It was just...surreal. Maybe in time I'd come to terms with it.

In the meantime, I was looking forward to collecting the agreed upon payment. The three hundred and fifty odd bits she promised to pay me paled in comparison to what we'd gained by selling off the collected gear from Adz and his crew. Which was fine. Bits hadn't been what I'd been interested in anyway. It'd been nearly a month since my last session with Saffron. In that time, I'd acquired a hefty amount of stress that needed relieving; and Vision was the only pony in this city aside from Windfall that I'd dare risk exposing my bare backside to, even in the dark.

To an extent.

A blue unicorn mare rounded the corner, a simple gray cloak draped over her back.

“Beginning to think you'd reneged,” I greeted, smiling to indicate that the line had been meant as a jest.

Naturally I'd once again forgotten that the mare was blind. Hoof waves I guess she could...detect? But facial expressions were apparently not something she could pick out. Her face shifted to a mask of fear, “I wouldn't do that!” she insisted, “you'll get what you want,” I noted the tinge of trepidation in her words, “follow me.”

I fell into step beside the mare. My eyes traced over her body as she walked. The unicorn was tense, but I was confident that she'd relax soon enough. I wasn't in the mood to test limits like I had been with Saffron. Tonight was purely about getting in a good long rut to help myself relax. After that, Vision never had to see—hear from me again. Unless she wanted to. Who knew? Maybe she'd discover that this was something she needed too.

If it were possible, Vision's apartment was more pitiful than the one I shared with Windfall. I couldn't quite understand why. A pretty mare like that? She could have been pulling in the caps hoof over fetlock if she wanted to by spreading her flanks a little. If the gossip I'd picked up about certain political figures in the NLR was to be believed, she could even be living quite comfortably as some Minister's 'personal aide'. Yet, here we were at the door of some mold-ridden little hovel, that was squeezed in between two other identical closet-sized rooms. I hoped her neighbors were out. Or that they didn't mind a little noise.

As Vision's magic manipulated the lock, I took the opportunity to lean in and nuzzle the unicorn behind her ear. The mare flinched away reflexively at first, but then she seemed to remember what the two of us were here to do and allowed me to brush up against her neck. Her muscles still felt incredibly tense, “you need to relax,” I whispered.

The unicorn nodded slightly. The door clicked and swung inward. She turned her head over her shoulder in my direction. A smile struggled to her lips, “so...bits first, or...?”

I rubbed my muzzle against her horn gently, “pleasure first,” I murmured, “business can wait.”

Vision swallowed and led me into the dark room beyond. I half expected her to turn on a light...and then mentally face-hoofed...again. I would remember that she was blind. I really would. I swear!

“I can get you a light...” she offered nervously.

“Nah,” I replied, rubbing a hoof along her back, “I know my way around a mare in the dark.”

There wasn't a reply at first, then the mare's hesitant question, “so...what do you...like?”

The anticipation of tonight was already getting to me. Honestly, I wasn't in the mood for anything special. No foreplay, no games. Just a good rutting was all that I wanted right now. Maybe next time—if there was a next time—I'd be more open to some adventurous activities. But for now, “Just drop the cloak and get on the bed. We'll keep it simple tonight.”

There was no reply, but I could hear the sound of fabric rustling. Then the room lit up with faint yellow light as the cloak floated away. It permitted me a brief glimpse of the room. The bed was just a mattress. To the side was a simple wooden trunk that must have contained all of her belongings, since nothing else was visible in the room. Heck, there was nowhere to put anything. The chest was the only piece of furniture.

I released the clasps the kept my own jacket closed and let it fall to the moldy wooden floor. Ahead of me, I could hear the rusty springs of the mattress creaking. Crouching down on my hooves, I let my nose lead me around in the dark. Nudging her tail out of the way, I found what I hadn't so much as glimpsed in a month. The scent was intoxicating. As my muzzle brushed up against it, I could feel her tense again.

Be kind...

My ear twitched. I paused for half a heartbeat. That other voice again. The new arrival to the cesspool that was my mind. The same words as before too. Well, if it didn't have anything worthwhile to say to me, I may as well just ignore it like I often did to the other two. Besides, I was going to be 'kind' to this mare. No biting, no crop, no cuffs. Just a good rutting...

“Relax,” I murmured, “I ain't going to be as rough as he was,” I didn't notice her relax. Oh well, I'd tried.

My mouth wasn't what I was interested in introducing to her posterior though. I crawled onto the bed, keeping the prostrate mare between my legs. I could feel her trembling beneath me. My head bent down, nipping lightly at the back of her neck, hoping to get her to calm down a little. My experience with slavers taught me that ponies like Adz were rarely concerned with the comfort of their partners; especially when they viewed those partners as property. So I had a fair idea of what Vision had come to expect from sex. Another lesson courtesy of Dear Old Dad. However, I wasn't going to inflict that on her tonight. Hell, as long as I'd gone without, she'd have me on her for only about thirty seconds anyway.

As my nips traveled up her neck and curved around to her cheek, I became aware of a slightly salty taste. It caused me to pause and pull my head back. I looked at the mare, “are you crying?”

There wasn't an answer at first. Then I heard a quiet sniff, “do you...want me to?” the dread in her voice was palpable. I bet Adz had enjoyed her crying.

“No,” I snorted, “stop it. This'll be nice, I promise. Just, stop crying.”

A mare crying while I mounted her brought back certain memories that I really didn't care to relive at the moment. I heard the unicorn sniff again and then bury her face in the mattress. Beneath me, I could feel her shivering; and not in anticipation of a good night, I imagined. Whatever. As long as I didn't hear it, I should be able to perform. All I was here for was a rutting anyway. A mare between my loins, release, and then leave with my bits. She was free to cry herself to sleep after that all she wanted.

Be kind...

I felt a pair of sad blue eyes looking at me, but when I looked around, I saw nothing. It was a pitch black room; of course I was going to see nothing, even if there had been somepony there. Which there couldn't have been.

So how did I know what color her eyes were? They weren't Vision's, she had yellow eyes. Did I even know anypony with blue eyes?

A vigorous shake of my head cleared the hushed plea and the vague image of an eerily familiar yellow pegasus from my mind.

Steeling my resolve, I positioned myself and mounted her. Below, I could hear Vision gasp, and let out a brief sob for a half second before she remembered my previous command and bit down on the mattress to muffle herself. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore it. My thoughts were diverted towards concentrating on how it felt to once again have a soft warm mare on my member. I thrust, adopting a rhythm I was familiar with.

I made it four pumps before I stopped. I wasn't done. Not even close. Far from it, I was even beginning to lose firmness. Beneath me, I could feel the mare continue to tremble, the occasional deeply muffled bout of weeping reaching my ears. Vision's apartment was emptier than I thought; I swore I could hear her cries echoing, like there was a second weeping mare nearby.

With a frustrated sigh, I pulled myself off of Vision. I couldn't do this, not with her in the state that she was. Crying mares and fillies...they put me off. A lot of memories and feelings began to well up within me, and I had to forcibly beat them into the deepest corner of my mind.

Beneath me, I felt the cyan unicorn stir, “what's wrong?” I could still hear the sniffling in her voice, and the fear.

“Forget it,” I mumbled, pulling back and groping around for my jacket, “we're done.”

I could hear the unicorn sniffling more audibly now as she pulled her head up. I could see the faint glow of her horn as she turned to face me, “what?”

“We're done here,” I repeated, “just give my bits, and I'm out of here. We're square.”

“But you didn't-”

“No!” I snapped loudly, causing the mare to recoil, “you're damn straight I didn't! You lyin' there blubbering like a fucking filly,” I grumbled, slipping my legs through the sleeves of my leather jacket, “all you had to do was keep quiet, but I guess that was too much to ask,” I didn't bother to hide my ire. I felt like I was being cheated out of my payment. This right here had basically been the whole reason I'd risked my life in the first place. Bits I could make anywhere in this city. Flank, that was scarce for me, “could have gone to sleep for all I cared; but no, you had to...”

My voice trailed off as I reached for my saddlebags. I only then recalled the little glass sphere that was nestled in the bottom of one of the leather pouches. I still didn't know what was contained within the cloudy orb, but it was something that the gray caravan mare had seemed to find soothing. Leastways, she'd considered it a way to relax in the evening; even though it had cost her her life in the end.

Unicorns didn't feel anything while connected to the memories in these things. If Vision connected with it, she'd become completely placid. She wouldn't even know anything was happening. At the very least, it should keep her quiet.

I rummaged around in the bag and pulled out the little orb. The perpetual soft teal light seemed all the brighter in this dark room. In its glow, I could see Vision's tear-streaked face looking at me in trepidation.

“What's that?” she asked tentatively.

“A memory orb,” I replied. I guess she'd never seen—encountered—one of them before. Adz had been an earth pony like me, so I doubted he'd been keen on keeping any of these that he may have come by, “ponies from before the war put their memories into them. Don't ask me how, it was some sort of unicorn magic.

“But I do know that if a unicorn connects with one, they go into a sort of...coma? I don't know,” it sucked having to explain something to somepony when you didn't really understand anything about it yourself. I didn't even have any sort of context for how magic worked at all. I could already see that my lecture wasn't doing much to assuage Vision's confusion either, “point is, if you touch your horn to this, you won't feel anything. Okay?

“I'll do my business, then collect the bits when you wake up again.”

Vision stared at the orb for a moment. Directly at it, not off slightly to the side like she did with most other things. Maybe she could perceive magical things more accurately using her detection spell? She seemed to be considering my offer, then looked towards me, “is it a...happy memory?”

“I think so,” I admitted, “I've never seen it. Not a unicorn,” I tapped my bare forehead. The mare hesitated a few seconds longer, straining my patience, “look,” I prompted, an edge creeping into my voice, “you promised me a night. Now, if you can't keep yourself together, then either touch your horn to the orb, or come up with another five hundred bits or so.”

The mare cringed and lowered her head. Another faint sniffle, then, “...okay.”

I reached out with the orb, and Vision inclined her horn to the polished surface. For a brief moment, her horn and the orb flared, and then they both dimmed. The mare's sniffling stopped, and her breathing settled into a slow, even rhythm. She could have been asleep.

Experimentally, I nudged her with my hoof. She didn't react. The unicorn mare was completely oblivious to what was going on around her. Maybe now I could get down to business in peace. With a little bit of prodding and nudging, I maneuvered the mare into a suitable position on the bed and mounted her once more.

Then I hesitated again.

Be kind...

What was wrong with me? I'd been a month without. I had a good looking unicorn laying under me. She wasn't crying or anything. Yet, for some Celestia-damned reason, I couldn't bring myself to mount her. She wasn't crying anymore, damn it! That was my one hang-up: crying mares. If they weren't crying, I could go through with it. Right?

Be kind...

Apparently not.

Fuck. This. Bullshit.

I pulled back from the bed. Thoughts of just leaving drifted through my mind. I'd made a tidy profit from the gear that Adz and his crew had carried anyway. Maybe I couldn't get what I'd really wanted, but it wasn't a complete loss either. Just turn and walk out the door. Fuck the caps, fuck the orb too. Didn't do me any good anyways. Vision could keep it. All I had to do was leave her there on the bed, helpless and unaware, in this closet of an apartment on the seediest side of Seaddle, past an unlocked door.

All I needed to do was leave.

Only Celestia knows why I stayed.

I curled up on the floor nearby and rested my head on my folded hooves, waiting for Vision to wake up.

---

Radscorpions are some nasty business. Big, thick shells, and the larger ones have a stinger that can skewer a grown pony from mane to tail with a single well-placed jab. Damn near impossible to kill without heavy ordinance. Even the White Hooves gave their nests a wide berth. Except for the breeding pair that we kept locked up in the Pit, we limited our encounters with them as much as possible.

Today, a hundred painted warriors were gathered around the edge of the deep hole designed to contain the pair of arachnids. A thick wooden plank extended out over it. A lone golden earth pony mare was being prodded along it by a unicorn warrior's dual hovering spears.

I watched, just a young rust-colored colt overshadowed by his father, as the mare was encouraged to the end of the plank. The pair of radscorpions, each larger than the mare was by a factor of two, milled around below. They knew what to expect. So did the howling warriors. Caps and jewels exchanged hooves as members of the crowd placed their wagers on how long the mare would endure.

My father's hoof slid around my neck, directing my gaze toward the doomed mare, “do you see that one, boy?” I nodded, “do you know why she's there?” I shook my head, “she refused me. A slave, refused to submit to one of her masters.

“So I took her anyway,” he went on, “I kept her chained in my tent until she foaled and weened. Now she is to suffer her due punishment.”

I looked on, as the mother of my younger sister was nudged to the edge of the plank. Then a swift jab from the butt of one of the hovering spears knocked her into the pit.

The screaming lasted for less than five seconds as the massive razor-sharp claws of the giant radscorpions chopped her to pieces.

“Now the next slave I approach will not refuse me,” my father smirked, casting his gaze in the direction of a group of collared mares who'd been made to watch the grisly execution. He then locked his gaze with mine, “never let a transgression go unpunished.”

---

My eyes shot open. It took me a moment to remember where I was: Vision's room. I hardly recognized it with the light on. A paltry little bulb hooked up to a dying spark-battery. Surprising that a blind mare would have had such a thing at all. Probably came standard with the apartments. I imagine that Vision had never even bothered to replace it since moving in. It would explain why the light was so faint.

The light was bright enough to allow me to see her clearly though. The cyan unicorn was crouched on her mattress, the memory orb cradled in her hooves. I could see fresh tears flowing down her face. A faint smile touched her lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes turning slightly in my general direction for a brief moment before drifting back to the orb. For a while, I wasn't sure why, or even what, she was thanking me for. Then, “I...I could see...” her words choked off.

Damn her. I'd saved her from slaving raiders. I'd let her keep her fucking dignity. Now I'd let her see again. This mare had gotten everything from me, and I'd gotten fucking shit from her. Damn her.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

You've grown weak, boy, my father's voice taunted. I quickly suppressed it. I didn't need my dead father's shit right now.

Without a word, I stood up and headed for the door. I could feel Vision watching me—ish—as I prepared to take my leave. It wasn't until my hoof was on the door that she spoke, “don't...don't you want your pay?”

Fuck me if I didn't. Thinking about it now, I actually had an impressive stash. A few hundred left from the farmer, a few hundred from the batteries, and nearly a thousand more from Adz's crew. Probably closer to two thousand, all told. Don't think I ever had that many bits or caps on me at any one time back east. I always found a way to spend it on hookers. Since that wasn't an option here, the money had simply begun to pile up. I'd barely thought about it until now.

I had more than enough money to get a new set of barding for myself, and even a set for Windfall, with plenty left over. Funny how rich you got when you had nothing to spend money on.

So, did I want the bits that she owed me? No. Was I going to take them anyway? “yeah.”

I was getting something out of this damn mess.

The chest's lid levitated open, enveloped in an amber glow, and a small pouch floated out in my direction. I snatched it out of the air and slipping it into one of the pockets of my jacket. I could already tell that it was lighter than it should have been. Probably two-fifty at the most. A voice in my head urged me to wheel on the mare and take the diference out of her hide. It'd certainly be one way to relieve the frustration that was mounting up inside me. Becoming my father for a couple of minutes was quite tempting at the moment.

Be kind...

I wasn't him though. I'd never be. I'd seen how that turned out.

So, I simply nodded and proceeded out the door. Once again, Vision interrupted my exit, “don't you want the orb back?”

Again I paused. It was mine. Take it back. Demand to know what was on it, take it back, and sell it to a trader who was interested in dealing with that stuff, “do I look like a fucking unicorn to you?”

I slammed the door behind me.

I made it a block before I was no longer able to suppress my frustration. That trash can had never harmed a soul in its life, I was sure of it. Yet I wailed on it as though it had perpetrated the most grievous crimes imaginable to ponykind. First with a solid buck, and then with repeated strikes from my fore-hooves. I'd caved in skulls, shattered rib-cages, and pulverized limbs with these hooves. The trash can that had survived two hundred years of the elements and neglect, crumpled under my rage-infused beating.

When I was satisfied that the trash can would never again offend another pony with its mere presence, I continued back to the apartment that the filly and I shared. In the back of my mind, a small yellow pegasus that I'd only ever seen as a statuette looked at me was a sad smile.

Damn that little yellow mare. Damn the both of them.

“Good evening, children! DJ-PON3 hear with, the news. Our top story tonight, the Manhatten Mare-do-Well has come out and given an ultimatum to the self-proclaimed ruler of Fillydelphia, a pony calling himself 'Red-Eye'. I even happen to have a little audio here of the message that our Wasteland heroine sent the would-be overlord of ponykind.”

There was a brief hiss of static, and then a mare's voice crackled over the radio's speaker. It sounded very different from how DJ-PON3 sounded. More distant, and little grainier. Like a recording of a recording, “...you tell your boss I'm putting an end to his bullshit” the gruff mare snarled at some unknown slaver, “him, and every pony that dares take another as property. His 'grand plan' has no place in Equestria. I'm going to tear down his empire stone by stone, and kill anypony that gets in my way. I see a Red-Eye banner, I kill the pony waving it! So run, you curs! Run! Tell Red-Eye and all your buddies that I'm coming! You tell 'em I'm coming, and Tartarus is coming with me! You hear? Tartarus is coming with me!”

The deep baritone of the disc-jockey stallion returned, “and there you have it, children: take a slave, and you might just take a bullet from the Mare-do-Well. Good on her. It's about time somepony took a stand and fought the good fight. I implore all my good listeners out there to help the Mare-do-Well. Give her a discount, a safe place to sleep, or even just a simple 'thank you'. She's fighting for you, Wasteland.

“So, from me to Miss Mare-do-Well: Thank you. Swing on by and I'll see if I can't rustle up some bullets for you to personally deliver to Red-Eye, express-style.

“And now, Sweetie Belle, with a song that tells us how everypony can fight the good fight, in their own way...”

The DJ's voice trailed off, followed by a sweet sound of a young, long dead, mare's voice singing a rousing tune that seemed like it had been meant to encourage civilians to support the ponies off fighting on the front lines. Suggestions about conservation, community farms, and writing letters of support and encouragement for the troops on the front line to boost their morale.

It was only after the buck's voice died away that Windfall seemed to take notice of my return, “Hey, Jackboot! Did you get the money?”

I stifled the frown that fought to cross my face, “yeah, I got it,” most of it. Not that the money was what I had really cared about collecting on.

“We did good today, didn't we? We helped her, just like the Mare-do-Well would have?”

“I don't know about that,” I smirked. Something about the way that DJ PON3 talked about the Manehattan mare suggested that she rarely tried to extort sexual favors from those she aided, “but we did get a few bandits. You did very good today, by the way,” I was able to smile more genuinely at the filly this time, who blushed for a brief moment at the rare praise, “you picked up on my hint, even though we never talked about using codes like that.”

“Yeah,” the filly rubbed the back of her head, “I was confused at first. Then I remembered the gun,” her features darkened a bit at the memory. She paused for a moment, then looked up at me, “he was a bad pony, right? The buck I ki...shot?”

I closed the distance to the pegasus and put my hoof around her shoulders. I recalled what killing another pony had done to the filly the first time. She seemed to be taking it better this time around, and I hoped that was a good sign. Still, she needed to know that she'd done good by doing what she had. Positive reinforcement, “yeah. He was a bad pony. He robbed ponies, and he raped Miss Vision. He was going to do it again; and to you too. Shooting him was the right thing to do. It was what you had to do.

“Nice shot, by the way. Right in the eye.”

Windfall looked up with a wan smile, “I was aiming for his jaw,” she confessed, “I wanted to shoot the gun out of his mouth.”

Up and to the left. Again.

“We'll hit the range again tomorrow,” I assured her, suddenly less confident about being downrange of her.

“Hold up!” I hissed, jabbing out with my right hoof to halt the filly walking beside me. Windfall lightly bumbed into the outstretched limb and froze in her tracks. Her eyes darted about, seeking out whatever danger I had noticed that she'd been oblivious to.

I pointed at the dust ground in front of us, “look there,” The pegasus craned her neck and peered intently at the dirt. However, after several seconds of fruitless squinting, she looked back up at me with an apologetic expression and shook her head. I fought back a frown. She didn't know what she was supposed to be looking for, “the grooves,” I elaborated, indicating where the dust had been marred.

Again Windfall turned her gaze downward. This time she did see the tracks, though I knew she couldn't identify the creature that left them behind. I began to scan the horizon, “Radscorpions. Not the giant ones, but bad news all the same. No telling how close they...hello...”

This pipbuck was amazing. Sure enough, Off to the west, I could see a small group of red dots. Judging by how rapidly their position shifted as I moved my head, they weren't that far off. Likely underground in their nest. We'd need to tread carefully, lest we alert them to our presence.

“This way,” I directed the filly southeast and the two of us made our way carefully around the nest.

Once the blips vanished from view, I heaved a sigh of relief. Beside me, I could see Windfall looking far more concerned with our surroundings than she had been just a couple of minutes ago. Her eyes were all but glued to the ground, which wasn't going to do her much good. Maybe she'd spot other tracks—not that I believed she knew what exactly to be looking for—but she was certain to miss spotting anything coming over the horizon; and I appreciated having a second set of eyes looking out for trouble out here in the Wastes.

“Eyes up,” I instructed the filly. The pegasus looked up at me, a worried expression on her face. She opened her mouth, about to issue some sort of concern. Whatever she had to say, it was immaterial, so I cut the filly off, “radscorpions are territorial; even when it comes to their own. There won't be another nest for miles. Any others will be on the surface; either out hunting for food, or looking to wipe out that nest and claim it for themselves. So keep your eyes looking ahead and behind us.”

The filly swallowed her rebuked protests and nodded, resuming her regular vigil. A few moments later, “how did you learn so much about those things?”

“My uncle taught me,” I lied...ish. Steel Bit hadn't taught me any sort of wilderness survival directly. He'd delegated that burden to one of his lieutenants. I don't think that he'd actually been my uncle, but he'd filled a very similar role in my life: an older male role model. It was a close enough comparison for the purposes of this conversation anyway, “I learned a lot about life in the Wastes from him. What to look out for, what you can eat, where it was safe to sleep.”

“Oh,” the pegasus responded softly, “you're pretty lucky,” I suppressed an urge to laugh derisively. The personification of Whiplash that was living in my head felt no need for any such restraint and let loose with a mighty cackle, “I never knew my uncle. Mom said I had one, but he was killed by raiders before I was born,” the filly frowned as she went deep into thought, “she said he worked as a...tenor?”

“He sang?” I quirked an eyebrow. I knew that Seadlle ponies had it better than most, but to make a living singing?

“What? No, he did stuff with brahmin hide that my Pa would sell him when one died.”

“Tanner,” I corrected the filly, “he probably made barding a saddlebags and stuff.”

“Yeah, that was it,” Windfall said. Her expression darkened, her ears and tail drooping a little. Her eyes landed on her right forehoof, and the thick leather cuff that encased it, “I guess he used to make stuff like this.

“Jackboot? Why do ponies have to die?”

I stopped in my tracks, my head turning back to the pegasus filly, “what do you mean?”

“Like, raiders and bandits,” Windfall elaborated, “the White Hooves. They're always killing other ponies and making them miserable,” a dark glint flashed across her eyes, “and for what? There's no reason they have to be that way! Why can't they just leave good ponies alone?!” the filly stamped at the ground in aggravation, “this place is bad enough without them killing everypony!” her hoof shot back in the direction of the radscorpion nest, illustrating her point.

I rolled my eyes, despite the filly's obvious exasperation at the state of the world. What was she expecting from me? I didn't make the world. I just survived in it. The same as she was going to have to. All I could do was pass on to her the same wisdom that Steel Bit had once passed onto me, “not everypony has to die.”

“They don't?” Windfall blinked in surprise.

“Of course not. Only the weak die. And it's because they're weak that they do die.”

“Then why doesn't somepony help them?” the filly demanded, “can't somepony make them stronger so that they can protect themselves? Like...the Mare-Do-Well! She's helping ponies!”

“That's because she's a strong pony,” I explained, “when you're a strong pony, you can use that strength any way that you want. Most use it to make themselves even stronger; by killing and stealing. Like the White Hooves.

“Like us,” I added, casting a glance back at the filly to gauge her reaction.

“W-what? We're not like that,” there was a note of doubt in the filly's voice.

“We're not?” I quirked an eyebrow, “you're wearing new barding that we bought with bits that we got from killing gangers. Got a lot of food and bits from that farmer you killed too, as I recall.”

“That was different!” the filly shot back desperately, “they were bad ponies! They were trying to kill us!”

“And so we killed them,” I conceded with a nod, “we were stronger than they were. And with the supplies we got from their corpses, we bought weapons and barding to make ourselves even more effective at killing whatever threatens us.

“If those Vipers had captured us, and sold us off; they'd have used the bit they made to buy weapons and armor too; to make themselves better at capturing ponies. They did what they did for the same reasons we do.”

“I don't believe that,” Windfall shook her head furiously, “I'm not like them...”

“Says the filly with a sword for a cutie mark.”

Maybe that was a cruel thing to remind the pegasus of at that moment; but the world was a cruel place. Much like Windfall had just recently pointed out. The look of shame that darkened Windfall's face spoke volumes, even though she didn't utter another word that day.

She didn't close up entirely, the way that she had after killing that unicorn farmer stallion. I figure that she just needed time to process what I'd told her and realize for herself that what I'd said was the truth of how life was. Windfall proved to be receptive to my lessons at least for the remainder of our trip. She paid careful attention to every plant and bush I pointed out to her, explaining what was safe and what wasn't. After the isolated incidents where a critter happened upon us, I would use its corpse as another tool for learning. Windfall was a little more hesitant about those lessons, but she at least seemed to take note of the vulnerabilities of various Wasteland monsters.

To my disappointment, my attempts to spur the pegasus filly to flight were for naught. I don't think it was necessarily anypony's fault between the two of us. Flying was no more an involuntary action than casting a spell was for a unicorn. It took practice, and especially guidance from somepony who knew the skill. Windfall had never had the opportunity to receive any sort of mentorship from a pegasus; and I didn't know any more about flying than, 'move wings really fast.' Which, unsurprisingly, didn't seem to be all that there was to it. She could hold herself aloft for a few seconds, or extend the height and length of a good running leap. That was about it.

My dreams of having a companion that could rain death from the sky began to wilt a little more with each fruitless attempt. On the bright side, her marksmareship had been steadily improving. She was nearly as good as I was, and still determined to increase her level of skill. The only thing that limited our practice at impromptu ranges was our supply of ammunition. I didn't think that having a few magazines of .22 rounds would really make a huge difference if we ran into trouble; but one never new. It wasn't like that little pop gun of hers hadn't helped out in the past, after all.

Over the past few days, now that we had a lot of open space that was perhaps as safe as we were likely to find, I had also taken the initiative in beginning one other suite of instruction: hoof-to-hoof combat. This, Windfall was not excelling at...

“Get up,” I sighed, stepping back from the filly's prone form. The little pegasus groaned and slowly made her way back up onto unsteady legs. She wiped away at the side of her mouth with her fetlock and winced at the sight of the drop of blood that had beaded at her split lip. In my defense, I hadn't actually intended to hit her that hard; however, she had attempted to leap backwards instead of to the side like I had been teaching her.

Perhaps, this time, she would remember, “again,” I stated, lowering myself into a fighting stance. A few paces away, Windfall did the same, adopting an identical, if mirrored, stance. Her feet were spread apart, her body canted slightly, ready to hop sideways out of the reach of an oncoming strike; or, if she was feeling lucky, she could opt to instead lunge at me with a strike of her own. It was a very basic stance, and had been the first thing I taught her about fighting without weapons.

I opened up our next bout with a couple of feints, hopping in towards the smaller pegasus and swiping at her with my left hoof. Windfall responded properly by hopping to her left just out of my reach. Then I forced myself to stumble slightly, giving her an obvious opening. Again, the filly responded 'correctly' by lunging inward to deliver a strike of her own. I recovered and slipped away deftly.

“Good,” I commended the filly, “now try a block,” I again moved in closer and lashed out. This time, Windfall didn't jump away. Instead, she lifted her foreleg and knocked my strike off its target. Her deflection hadn't been particularly powerful, and if I'd put any real power behind my attack I would have still struck her, but injuring Windfall was not the purpose of these fights...yet. Accidents not withstanding, of course. For now, I was simply checking to make certain that she had remembered our prior lessons.

“And again,” I lashed out once more. Again the filly blocked the strike. Good. She had retained some of her grasp of the basics.

Now to see how well she could think on her feet.

“Again,” I warned her. However, unlike the last two strikes, I did not paw at her with my left hoof. I instead pivoted on my front hooves and bucked at her. I wasn't aiming to deliver a particularly powerful blow, but it would hurt if she took it wrong. I'd learned as a young colt: pain was a great educator.

Windfall squeaked in surprise. Realizing that her one small foreleg would not be enough to fend off two large hind hooves heading for her face, she reacted on impulse. A bit of a mistake really.

Her tiny little wings buzzed as they fluttered madly. They helped to lift her up onto her hindquarters, letting the little filly use both of her forelegs to stop my buck from finding a home on her ribs. However, the posture left her horribly off balance. My hooves connected with her crossed fetlocks, and the pegasus filly was pitched back with a great huff, tumbling backwards to the ground. She didn't immediately get back up, instead opting to groan in pain.

“That was cheating,” she hissed from her prone position.

“How so?” I asked, amused, as I walked up to her side. I peered down at the prostrate filly. She glared back up at me, accusingly, licking away at a second drop of blood that was growing on her split lip.

“You didn't tell me you were going to buck me!”

I smirked down at Windfall, “so? Do you think a ganger's going to call his attacks out in the Wastes? You need to be ready for anything.”

I saw the glint in the filly's eye. Not ire. It was just the faintest glimmer of satisfaction. Then I saw the twitch in her shoulder as her right foreleg put more pressure against the ground.

Clever girl...

My left fetlock shot up...

...just in time to catch the kick that Windfall had attempted to hit me with from her prone position. Unswayed by my deft deflection, the filly rolled away from me, ending up standing on all four legs, her expression was a mixture of satisfaction and frustration. She'd lured me in close enough to get in a strike, but had been unsuccessful in landing the sneak attack.

My smile was genuine now, “well played,” the filly had a sneaky streak. Good.

“Not well enough,” she smirked, starting to circle around cautiously. I mirrored her movements.

“You just have to learn to hide your 'tells',” I advised her, “you planted your hoof in order to use it as an anchor. Hard to avoid that; so use it. Make it into a feint.”

I tensed up and launched myself headlong at the filly this time, both of my forelegs outstretched in front of me in a clear attempt to tackle the smaller pegasus to the ground. Being so much larger and heavier than she was, Windfall would be hard-pressed to throw me off if I connected. So, she did the only thing she could: she hopped backwards out of the way.

If I had been going for a true tackle, that would have been enough to rob me of a successful strike. However, hopping directly backwards put the filly exactly where I needed her to be for what I really had planned. When my fore-hooves hit the ground, I used them to propel me further forward, flipping onto my backside into a somersault, which ended with my hind legs once more bucking at the filly.

Windfall issued out another surprised squeak. This time, however, she didn't react in time to block the hit and my hooves connected with her chest. The pegasus filly's grunt was much deeper and more pained. She flopped onto her side and rolled rather ungracefully to a stop a couple strides from where she'd been standing. She feebly rolled onto her feet, letting out a burst of raspy coughs as she tried to recapture the breath that had been so forcefully expelled from her lungs by the hit.

I rolled onto my own feet, cringing slightly. I'll admit, I hadn't meant to hit her quite that hard. I wasn't used to holding back in a fight...

“Always be ready for a follow-up,” I told the filly, who was still coughing intermittently, “and watch for tells.”

The little filly grimaced and nodded. Her legs were still a little unsteady under her body, so the filly crouched back down on her knees. She winced and looked at me, discomfort clear on her face, “can we take a break, please?”

I nodded, letting myself down onto my stomach as well. She was still very new at this, and a little filly besides. She'd have time to get better; and beating her into submission was not my intent with these lessons, “sure.”

Awe, I thought you were enjoying that, too...

I ignored Whiplash's voice.

Windfall coughed a couple more times, though she was sounding noticeably better, “where did you learn this stuff?”

“My father taught me,” I replied simply.

“Were his lessons this rough too?” she asked sardonically, flashing me a smirk.

I returned the smile, my eyes twinkling, “rougher. Got my first broken leg from him. And my second. Third,” seven broken limbs in all over the years. I stopped counting ribs when they outnumbered the days in a month. Pain was an educator.

This little revelation seemed to take the filly aback, “oh. Did he...hate you or something?”

“No,” I shook my head, “he just wanted me to be able to stand on my own,” I cleared my throat and adopted my best imitation of the great and glorious Steel Bit, “'you can put your faith in the Goddesses; but only a fool puts his faith in other ponies. Either stand on your own merits, or submit to those who can,'” I flashed Windfall another wry smirk, “he had some pretty high expectations; but he meant well,” by me anyway. At the time he'd given me that particular gem of advice, he'd been crushing the windpipe of a warrior who'd allowed a slave to escape.

Windfall cringed, “gee, sounds like a charmer.”

“My father was a lot of things. 'Charming' wasn't one of them. He felt entitled to a certain lifestyle, and there wasn't much that he wouldn't do to maintain it. It got him killed in the end,” I mumbled under my breath.

The filly looked at me with a cocked brow, “what? I thought you said he was killed by a White Hoof?”

I nodded, “that's true,” my smile was mirthless, “remember what I said about the strong using the weak to get stronger?” the filly nodded hesitantly, “well, the son-of-a-mule thought that he was stronger than one of them; and he was wrong. Got killed for his trouble. Served him right.”

“But he was your pa,” the filly stressed, still seemingly unable to grasp how I could be so cavalier about the murder of my parent.

“He was,” I acknowledged with a nod, “but that doesn't mean he didn't have it coming. You can be a father and a bastard, you know.”

Windfall paused for a moment, “you're really not sad that he's gone? Didn't you love him, even a little?”

I was silent, not having an answer ready for that question. Honestly? I'd never thought about it. 'Love' hadn't been a concept I'd even encountered until I made my first appearance in Hoofington. Even then, I was pretty sure I'd received a rather warped definition of it. As I'd come to know the term with the White Hooves, I'd 'loved' Saffron. She was the one mare, of a selection of available mares, that I wanted to fuck more frequently than the others.

It wasn't until I'd taken on work with a couple caravans and listened to the traders talk fondly of the mares and foals they had waiting for them at home that I'd come to know what love—real love—was meant to be. Though I still possessed only an intellectual grasp of the concept. I'd never caught myself thinking about anypony the way those caravan ponies seemed to have. I'd definitely never felt that way about my father.

Could you miss somepony you'd never loved? What did it mean to miss somepony? Was it enough to simply long for them? If that was the case, then I missed Saffron far more than I'd ever missed my father. Though, it wasn't actually Saffron herself that I longed for; but what she had provided for me in the way of comfort and carnal pleasures.

I missed sex, I guess. But my father?

“No,” I finally replied, “I'm not sad that he's gone,” how could I be, when he chastised me constantly from beyond the grave?

“Oh,” Windfall said softly. A pause, then, “I'm sorry.”

My confused gaze fell on the pegasus, “what are you sorry about? Not like it was your fault he was a dick...”

“I know, it's just...in some ways, I think you had it rougher than I do as a foal,” I blinked, “I may have lost my family, but it sounds like you never had one. Whenever you talk about your pa, you insult him. You've never mentioned your mother, or any siblings.

“Didn't anyone care about you?”

Isn't she a sweetheart? Whiplash cooed, how about it, big brother? Were you ever coddled the way you should have been?

Judging by the way that Windfall's expression shifted to one of concern, I hadn't succeeded in suppressing my sneer this time. If I ever found a way to make the voices stop...

What the hell was Windfall getting at anyway? So I didn't particularly care for my father. I wasn't overly thrilled with my sister either; and the death squad she'd sent after me suggested the feeling was at least mutual. Saffron was the closest thing I had to a pony who 'cared' about me; and she'd just been after my caps. Which was fine with me, since all I'd been after was what lay between her flanks.

No, nopony had ever really cared about me; and that was only right. Since I had never cared about anypony else either. All was right with the world. What would it have mattered anyway?

“I don't need somepony to care about me,” I answered firmly.

Windfall held my gaze, “well, for what it's worth, I care,” to emphasize her statement, the filly leaned in and put her head on my shoulder. If she noticed me tense up, the pegasus gave no indication.

A little yellow mare with blue eyes and a pink mane clopped her hooves together excitedly as she executed a midair somersault. As though this had somehow been her hoofwork. The smiling pegasus was soon overshadowed in my mind by a smug mud colored stallion.

Not bad, kid, his gravely voice commended me, she'll be asking you to fuck her in no time...

Too bad Dad hadn't thought to warm up to me like that, Whiplash added acidly, might have kept me from crying so much the first time...

The pair had completely smothered the pegasus mare, who seemed to now be struggling frantically to reassert herself at the forefront. However, that newcomer apparition was going to be hard pressed to drown out the voices of two hallucinated ponies that had been part of my whole life. Especially not when all she knew were two soft words that had little place in the Wasteland.

That wasn't to say I was inclined to put that much more weight on what the other two were saying either. Or Windfall's own words for that matter.

I frowned down at the filly, “yeah, we're not done sparring for the day,” good effort though.

Without moving her head from where it was lovingly nestled into the side of my neck; nor with a shift in her soft smile, the little pegasus uttered a single word:

“Horseapples.”

---

Footnote: Level Up
Small Guns: 50
Perk Added: Foal at Heart--Added dialogue options with colts and fillies.

Next Chapter: CHAPTER 6: IF I DIDN'T CARE Estimated time remaining: 66 Hours, 17 Minutes