“I know who you are. You are walking death, a plague in equine form.”

It never rained in this damn place.

I'd forgotten about that. All those years living in Hoofington, it had slipped my mind that until I left Neighvada, I hadn't ever encountered rain before. A decade later, and I started to take the near-constant precipitation for granted. Now, back living in the valley of my birth these last eight years, I was finally missing it. The impromptu cleansing showers that the rain offered. The cool, soothing, feeling of water running down your back when you'd had a long, hard, day.

But here? No rain. Just constant, oppressive, dry heat that never abated beneath an eternally cloudy sky. It was enough to make me yearn for the days when I'd found myself lying down in a shallow pool of muck while I watched my next victims through my binoculars. As opposed to my current perch nestled behind a bit of scrub brush, shifting uncomfortably on the parched rocky ground.

I repositioned myself for the umpteenth time that evening and continued to watch my current prey. Six ponies gathered around a crackling fire hollering and carrying on together in celebration of a job well done. Nearby was a cart containing several crates of Wild Pegasus whiskey. A good number of those bottles were currently being enjoyed by the gathered ponies. Their sloppy and wasteful methods of imbibing that precious liquid, getting more of it on their chins than in their mouths it seemed like, caused me to grimace. While I knew that there was no physical way for them to drink all that liquor and not end up killing themselves, the more of it that they drank, the less there would be for me to sell once I was back in Shady Saddles.

This would be a tricky little raid, but very doable. By my count, there were two unicorns and four earth ponies in the group, all stallions. A smile curled my lip. That boded very well indeed. Their weapons were the normal collection of bolt-action rifles and improvised swords that I had come to expect from most of the inhabitants of the Wasteland this far out from Seaddle.

With the war between the Lunar Republic and the Steel Rangers showing no signs of ending any time soon, both sides were paying top bit and cap for weaponry. This meant that most of the best guns were sold to either of those groups, leaving relatively little in the way of heavier firepower for everypony else. Rifles in poor repair, pistols, and imaginative melee weapons were what most of the Wasteland denizens sported as they sold the better stuff in order to buy chems and booze. Which was fine by me. I had little use for the heavier firepower out there, and I was appreciative that few of my possible adversaries would have any of it either.

I put the binoculars away and crawled out from my cover. My eyes remained on the gang of stallions ahead of me. The daylight had faded away, shrouding the land in darkness that was near absolute this far from any settlements. The only light for miles was the large fire that this group was sharing while they drank. So long as I didn't get close enough to get caught in its orange glow, I'd be the next best thing to invisible. By the time they did see me, it would be too late.

After a couple minutes of slow and methodical steps, I was close enough to hear what the group was saying. Or rather, what they were singing....badly. I doubted that the alcohol was entirely to blame for their frequent sour notes either. Credit where it was due though, the lyrics were clever, if often slurred.

Suddenly, their song drew up short, and every head in the camp snapped towards the south. Several groped for their weapons with hoof or magic. One pony didn't reach for a weapon though. One orange earth pony merely narrowed his eyes and took another swig of liquor while the other five took up unbalanced stances with their firearms. A leader, perhaps? I held my ground, as I was to the north of the camp, and well outside their current focus. I could see what drew their attention so abruptly though. A seventh individual had arrived on the scene. A pony draped with a long hooded cloak.

“Hol'ip right'dere!” one of the unicorns hiccupped, a rifle hovering in front of him wrapped in a red glow.

The new arrival stopped in their tracks and held up a hoof in surrender, “don't shoot!” came the voice of a young mare.

The sour demeanor of the stallions changed very perceptibly, and suddenly. Every eye was still locked on the seventh pony, but the barrels of their guns drooped towards the ground. The orange earth pony that hadn't bothered to get up from his comfortably reclined position when the stranger first arrived was rolling to his feet now. He approached the newcomer, a smile growing upon his face that appeared warm at first glance, but his eyes betrayed its darker nature. A group of six marauding stallions out in the middle of the Wastes with a lone mare that wandered into their camp? Any foal with two brain cells to rub together knew what they were thinking.

“Gentlecolts,” the orange stallion said in a deep baritone, “that's no way to treat a guest in our camp. Somepony fetch this pretty filly a...drink,” he nodded towards one of the unicorns briefly and then returned his silver eyes to the mare, “welcome to our Wasteland haven. Are you lost, lil' miss?”

The mare pulled back her hood, revealing an ivory face and close-cropped mane. She smiled warmly at the stallion talking with her and flushed with embarrassment, “I'm afraid I got a little turned around,” she admitted shyly, “all these rocks look the same. I'm trying to get the Shady Saddles, you see...can you help me?”

“Of course we can,” the stallion assured her with a grin, “why, it'd be right uncivilized to forsake a pretty mare like yourself in your hour of need. Come, warm yourself by the fire...”

As he spoke, the second unicorn and another earth pony began to slowly circle around the young mare, subtly surrounding her while her attention was held by the group's leader. I could see that the unicorn that had been sent to fetch her a refreshment was instead levitating a coil of rope out from one of their bags. They were going to pounce on her the moment they had her completely surrounded. No horn in the middle of her forehead suggested that she was an earth pony. No telltale angular shapes marring the cloak draped across her back meant that she was either unarmed, or had only a small pistol tucked away somewhere. Certainly nothing big enough to threaten so many large stallions like themselves.

They had her dead to rights the moment she set hoof near that fire.

The mare let out a relieved sigh and smiled gratefully at the orange earth pony, “you're so kind. I was afraid that you might be bandits. But I can tell you're good ponies.”

One of the ponies nearest to my side of the camp only barely stifled a snicker. The leader's eyes darted his way for only the briefest of seconds, but his smile held, “you are an excellent judge of character. Is there anything you need?”

It was not the mare, but one of the more obviously drunken earth ponies that answered the question. Far more loudly that even he had intended, I suspect, “yeah, a good fucking from me! Let's get her already!”

The orange stallion's eyes widened and he turned to snarl at the pony that had spoiled their plan prematurely.

For her part, the mare didn't seem the least bit perturbed at all though by the revelation. In fact, her expression seemed to be one of coy amusement, “Oh? Well, if I'm to be fucked,” the orange stallion was looking back at the white earth pony now with a rather bewildered expression on his face. Clearly he had expected her to be significantly more put off by the idea of her capture and ensuing gang rape. “I guess I should take off this cloak, hm?”

“Uh...” it looked like none of the stallions had expected anything remotely like this sort of response. Everypony merely stood still as the mare put her hoof to the simple clasp fastened across her chest and flicked it aside.

“Let's get this thing started,” the mare's smile then shifted from amused, to murderous.

The cloak exploded off of the mare's back with surprising speed. The cause of this became instantly obvious, as the white earth pony mare that had wandered into the camp was not an earth pony at all. She was a pegasus. A pegasus who was wearing a set of armored silver barding that covered nearly her entire body. A pegasus with a pair of 10mm submachine guns that had been very snuggly tucked under her folded wings, hiding their more angular profile.

Windfall's head whipped down to her shoulder and the mare grabbed a small tab attached to a cord and gave that tab a sharp yank with her teeth. The cord went taut as the mare's hungry eyes turned back to the orange earth pony. Her lips spread into a grin around the cord in her mouth, “surprise!”

With a second tug, the line depressed the triggers of her submachine guns and the weapons at her side came to life. A dozen slugs tore into the body of the orange stallion, shredding him to a bloody mess. The pegasus mare swung her body around and swept the stream of fire into the unicorn that had been circling to her left. He was slain in like fashion, with barely any time to register that his life was even in danger. With several powerful strokes of her wings that whipped up a minor storm of dirt and dust through the camp, the pegasus was airborne and vanished into the darkness.

The four surviving stallions had their weapons up now and were scanning the skies for the mare that had just brought down two of their number. These ponies had likely never faced a pegasus in any sort of combat, given how rare they were.

With all eyes and guns focused on the sky, there was nopony left to pay the rust-colored earth pony running up behind them any mind. I made a bee-line for a gold hued earth pony crouched behind their cart. His eyes and pistol were directed skyward as he fired off shots in the direction that he had seen their winged attacker fly off in. Though I couldn't see her either with my naked eyes, the yellow blip on my EFS informed me that Windfall was nowhere near that area of the sky any longer.

My hooves collided with the back of his neck, stunning the stallion briefly and causing the pistol to fly out of his mouth. Seizing upon my opening, I wrapped my legs around the other pony's head and gave it a sharp twist. I was rewarded with the satisfying sound of vertebra slipping out of place as they were forced to rotate further than they had ever been intended to. The stallion in my hooves jerked and then went limp.

A short distance away, one of my victim's companions noticed my insertion into the fight and took immediate exception to my choice of allegiance. His head whipped in my direction, a sturdy double-barreled shotgun held fast in his teeth. I pulled my own firearm from its holster. In a fair fight, the other pony would have had me dead to rights. At this range, and against that weapon, I didn't stand a stable-pony's chance in the Wasteland.

It was a good thing that I rarely engaged in fair fights.

With a thought, the world around me froze.

Oh, the wondrous miracle that was a pipbuck. I may not have understood a lick of what it was doing, or how it was doing it; but I relished the utility of SATS every time I used it. It was like a double dose of Dash, except it didn't leave me with my heart pounding in my ears and a bad case of dry-mouth. I smirked in the direction of the unmoving pony in front of me.

The magical field of the machine on my wrist lined my revolver up for a shot at the other pony's shotgun with a thought. There was sufficient energy in this spell, I had learned, to allow me only two rounds affected by its influence. So, the other bullet I placed in his head. Once both shots were accounted for, I mentally commanded the pipbuck to execute my loaded commands.

Time resumed, though not at full speed. I watched events transpire at a languid pace as the pistol bucked in my mouth once. The shot struck true, sparking off the offending shotgun's breech. The weapon popped upward as it fired, sending its spray of deadly pellets soaring up and over my head. The stallion winced as the bullet continued onward and tore through his cheek. His pain was short-lived as the follow-up round perforated his forehead and made a rather unsanitary mess behind his left ear on its way out. Only then did the world around me resume its normal flow.

It had taken me an embarrassingly long time to finally learn what SATS was and how to use it effectively. And now, I wondered how I had ever managed without it. Hell, if this was the sort of resource that all stable-ponies had at their command, how was it that so many of them got done in by the hazards of the Wasteland?

From up above, I heard the chatter of gunfire, followed quickly by the screaming of the other earth pony that had tried to flank Windfall earlier. A glance confirmed that the pony had been effectively cut down by the strafing fire. Dim firelight gleamed momentarily off of Windfall's silvered barding, and then she was once more consumed by the night.

That left only the single remaining unicorn stallion, who was looking far less certain about how the night would turn out for his libido. The rope had long since been dropped from his magical grasp. A pistol hovered beside him, panning across the skies as he backed himself up against the cart. I lined up my own weapon and fired. The revolver bucked in my mouth as it belched out another of the high-caliber rounds. The stallion screamed and collapsed to the ground. His right shoulder was a horrific mass of flesh and splintered bone. The pistol he had been wielding clattered to the ground beside his writhing body, his concentration broken.

I kept the revolver trained on him just in case the unicorn stallion found the resolve to pick up his weapon once more, or drew out a second one from somewhere I didn't know about. Though I did note that his red blip was flickering to yellow at the moment. He'd completely lost the will to fight us. How the pipbuck could sense intent, I didn't know, but it could. However, it couldn't necessarily predict how fickle a pony could be in every instance. A yellow blip could go red very quickly.

I approached the stallion slowly. I wasn't going to spare him or anything. Truthfully, the shot had been meant to kill the unicorn. Nopony had perfect aim though. Ammunition for this cannon of a revolver wasn't common or cheap though, and if he was really out of this fight, I could just as easily end him with my knife or a couple bucks to the head.

Then a small whirlwind of dust rose up from the ground, and I found my path blocked by an ivory pegasus mare with a short teal mane and a braided tail. She was smiling down at the whimpering unicorn.

The crippled stallion looked up at her with terrified eyes, “I surrender! Please, I'm sorry. Just let me go!”

“But I haven't fucked you yet,” Windfall reminded him softly. She jerked on the tab in her mouth. The automatic weapons at her side burped out a short stream of fire and the unicorn's whimpering ceased forever.

Windfall's expression became far darker as she snorted derisively at the corpse, “there, now you're fucked.”

The pegasus mare turned and looked back at me, a satisfied smirk on her face. Her eyes briefly scanned the camp, pausing on each of the six dead ponies. Then she feigned polishing her hoof, “not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”

I favored the mare with a wry smile, “did you just try to deliver a snappy one-liner after you killed that stallion?”

“Try?” the pegasus said, seeming to take great offense at my comment, “I succeeded, thank you very much,” her expression shifted back to a smile, a very foalish one if I was any judge, “it was totally just like what the Lone Ranger would have said, wasn't it?” she very nearly squeed at the thought of her new idol.

The 'Lone Ranger' was DJ PON3's new favorite Wasteland celebrity. According to the broadcasts we'd been hearing, he was some sort of rogue Steel Ranger that hadn't taken too kindly to how the ancient technophilic order was treating the natives of the Wasteland. By all accounts, he'd forsaken the Rangers and was now crusading across the cpmtimemt, taking out raiders, bandits, monsters, and pretty much everything else that tended to pose a threat to the common pony. A real hero, if the Manehattan broadcaster was any judge.

As far as I was concerned, he was just the next idiot looking to get himself killed for no good reason.

Don't get me wrong, Windfall and I were blowing away a fair number of roguish ponies too, but the difference was that we weren't advertising it. We never took an official contract, nor put out word that the two of us were interested in any sort of hit work. In fact, depending on which town you went to, we had all sorts of different bland professions.

To the ponies of Seaddle, we were weapons dealers. That our stock was pried from the cold dead hooves of Vipers and Jackals was our little secret, seeing as how we never left anypony alive to report back to the rest of their gang about who was taking out their members. Way down south in New Reino, we were body guards. That our charges were recently freed slaves whom we paid a small sum to keep quiet about their ordeal and rescue was known to very few ponies; and vehemently denied by ourselves.

To Shady Saddles, we were booze runners or merchants, depending on what materials we recovered from any bandits that had sacked a recent caravan. Tomorrow, it looked like we'd be strolling into town with a couple crates of Wild Pegasus Special Reserve, in addition to two crates of the standard recipe. Quite a find, if the Reserve turned out to be real. As for the weapons that the raiders had on them, we'd keep them tucked away in our Saddlebags until our next trip northward to Seaddle.

I started pawing through the cart, taking stock of what was left intact, “if you mean needlessly stupid, then yes; it sounded exactly like something that showoff would say.”

The pegasus leaned up against my side, her face close to mine, “is that a note of jealousy I detect?”

“Nope,” I stated flatly.

“I think it was,” Windfall insisted, “but don't worry, I wouldn't leave you for him,” she assured me as she flitted away to begin looting the bodies of the slain raiders, “I hear he's a unicorn. They just don't do it for me. Too delicate.”

You hear that? Whiplash remarked with a knowing tone, she likes it rough. Take note...

I took a deep cleansing breath and pushed both the thought and the voice behind it from my mind.

She was still too young, I told myself. What, fourteen? She may look like a mare, but her periodic squees and gushing over ponies like the Lone Ranger were a reminder that she was still little more than a filly. Too young.

It's better to start them young. Let's you get them trained just right...

Ah, fatherly advice. Yeah, that was right out. Steel Bit could shove it.

“Magic makes them lazy,” I agreed, hoping to distract my thoughts from the subject matter they were pursuing, “they don't know how hard it can be to do something as simple as load a gun when it takes more than a thought.

“Throw some power armor in there, and you have the makings of a grade 'A' pussy.”

Windfall grimaced slightly, not seeming to be particularly keen on my appraisal of her current inspirational idol. She'd even gone so far as the emulate his armor in her admiration of the stallion. Her barding wasn't actually metal, it was lightweight leather and ceramic plates, similar to my own. She had simply covered it in metallic paint that we'd found a couple months ago. Now she was quipping one-liners at our victims too. If she started charging into fights yelling some inane battle cry, I was going to give her a good thumping to set her right.

Ooh, what about a spanking?

I mentally thumped Whiplash.

This band hadn't had much on them in terms of valuable possessions. Their weapons were relatively light caliber, and in poor repair. We wouldn't make much of a profit off them. The alcohol on the other hoof, that was valuable. Special Reserve was hard to come by, and impossible to reproduce. Standard Wild Pegasus whiskey could be reasonably copied and manufactured on the surface. Don't get me wrong, you could still tell the difference between Pre-War and Post-War brews, but it was close enough to not make much of a difference. Special Reserve though, you couldn't copy that down here.

The reason for it was that Wild Pegasus Special Reserve, according to the rather colorful label, was flavored with a 'Splash of Rainbow!' What that meant exactly, I didn't know, and neither did anypony else it seemed. Many ponies over the years had tried to create knock-off batches and pass them off as Special Reserve, but the forgeries were immediately obvious even before the liquid touched your tongue. Whatever the Old World manufacturers had used to give Special Reserve brews that extra little kick, was a secret that they'd taken with them to their grave.

If I thought the trader who'd originally been hauling this cargo was still alive today, I'd have made an effort to track him down and get the source of his stash out of him. Sadly, that too was likely a secret that would be forever lost to the Wasteland.

Windfall was once more at my side, apparently done with her scavenging. Her eyes were glued to the cases in the wagon, “Ooh! Is that what I think it is?” her wing swept up one of the glass bottles before I could respond, “It is! Do you think it's real?”

“Hold it up to the fire,” I told her.

The tried and true test of whether a bottle of Special Reserve was genuine or not: peering at a source of light through the amber fluid. Authentic Special Reserve would instantly separate into a spectrum of colors. Imitations wouldn't. Windfall held up the bottle against the bonfire, and even I could see the results as a faint array of colors spanning from red to blue illuminated her pale face.

Instantly, the pegasus' face brightened with a broad grin and she twisted off the stopper. A few generous gulps and she let out a satisfied sigh, “oh yeah, that's the good stuff alright!”

“And that one's coming out of your share,” I informed her as I closed up the crate and set about inspecting the cart's tack. Some dried blood that looked to be only a day or two old, but otherwise in good condition.

“Worth it,” the mare conceded and took another, shorter, swallow. She then capped it back off and slipped the bottle into her saddlebag. Her eyes danced over the corpses again, “these idiots didn't even see it coming” her tone shifted to a slightly more demure one as she threw herself up against my side. Her words were soft and trembling, “oh no! Alone in the Wasteland! A dainty little mare like me, however will I survive without a big, strong, stallion to protect me?”

Her words broke off into an amused chortle that ended with a sigh, “it gets them every time.”

“One of your better performances,” I acknowledged, “that bit at the end was a good touch too. Not the one-liner,” I amended with a sour smile, “but that whole part about suggesting you'd be up for a rutting. Put them all off for a good couple seconds.”

“I had to stall them somehow,” the pegasus sighed, favoring me with a sorrowful expression, “somepony was almost late to the party. You're slowing down there in your old age.”

I sidestepped without warning. My intent had been to relieve Windfall of her support and cause her to fall to the ground as a passive reprimand for that remark. However, the mare's wings shot out almost instantly and began flapping leisurely. The pegasus retained her pose, as though she were still leaning up against me. She clicked her tongue several times with a slow, sad shake of her head, “forgetful too. I haven't fallen over in years.”

“I liked you better when you couldn't fly,” I said to the flier in a dour tone as I started walking in the direction of Shady Saddles.

Windfall hopped into the air and floated beside me, “so, what are you going to do with your share? Me? I going to claim half of one of those Special Reserve bottles for myself,” she cradled her current bottle lovingly against her breast, “then I'm going to have a chat with Flechette about those drum mags he mentioned last time. Just think of how awesome it would be to be able to fire off two hundred rounds without needing to reload!

“Oh, that reminds me,” the pegasus dropped to the ground and looked back at her concealed submachine guns as her wings swapped out the empty magazines for full ones from her saddlebags, “I'd meant to put a lot more bullets into that last guy, but the girls ran dry on me,” the magazines clicked into place and Windfall used her pinions to chamber an initial round in each weapon before once more taking flight at my side.

She glanced at her hoof, “then I'm thinking of having my hooves done. Do you think I should get them painted, or just a polish?”

“It's your money,” I shrugged.

“Just a polish then. If I get them painted, I'd have to decide on the right color and there are just so many that go well with white,” Windfall fluttered slightly ahead and turned around to regard me expectantly as she continued to move effortlessly backwards with delicate flaps of her wings, “but seriously, what are you going to do?”

I shrugged again, “sell the booze, buy a drink, buy some ammo, sleep,” I listed off simply.

“That's it? Come on, Jackboot! Your cut from this is going to be a few hundred bits, at least! Aren't you going to do anything fun with it?” the mare sounded almost insulted that my plans for the day were so mundane.

“Drinking is fun.”

“We should do something together,” the pegasus suggested, “why not come with me to French Tip's?”

I frowned, “I'm not a hoof polish kind of stallion.”

“She does other things,” Windfall rolled her eyes and then jabbed a hoof at my head, “she could touch up your mane!”

“My mane?”

“Well, you know, it's getting a little...whitier,” the mare offered a sheepish smile, “kind of makes you look old.”

“Gee...thanks,” I glowered at the flying mare. I was only just pushing forty. I wasn't old. Sure my back was sore most days, and my left knee felt stiff every morning, but that wasn't because of age. I lead a rough life. It was bound to take its toll.

I was finding myself waking up more often during the night to take a leak though...

Shady Saddles: the southernmost town of the New Lunar Republic. A nice little place really, if a bit frontierish. It was something of a gateway town between the NLR and the as of yet unincorporated towns in the valley, like New Reino. As such, you tended to see a lot of ponies from various walks of life here, and only minimal Republic presence. Shady Saddles citizens were all technically Republic citizens of course, but most of them hardly even noticed it. Until tax time.

Windfall flew off once we reached the entrance to the town, reminding me several times that when I went to sell the booze, six of those Special Reserve bottles belonged to her. Then she was gone, calling after the resident arms merchant.

The pegasus had grown up fast, it seemed like. I'd taught her what I knew, and she'd improvised most of the rest. Not everything that an earth pony stallion like me knew was necessarily relevant to a pegasus mare. The flying and aerial acrobatics she had needed to hone on her own through trial and error. A lot of error at first. That filly seemed to strain or sprain her wing every other week in the beginning as she pushed herself to perform ever more daring feats. I didn't have much to compare her progress to, but the mare had gotten pretty good in my opinion.

Capable with a gun too. She wasn't a deadeye by any means, and she still pulled up and to the left every now and ten, but she could be counted on to reliably put a bullet somewhere in a target. Her weapons of choice were the pair of 10mm submachine guns that she continually referred to as, 'the girls'. If she'd given them individual names, she'd never said them aloud that I'd ever heard. Most days, they were rigged up to a proper battle saddle. However, when an avenue of approach required stealth, as with last night, the weapons were strapped into a special thong under her wings with a pull cord controlling their triggers. It was less accurate than a standard harness, but with her wings folded in you couldn't hardly tell that she was armed.

Now if only I could find some way to get her to take this more seriously. Like with this Lone Ranger kick that she was on. This was arguably worse than her old obsession with the Mare-Do-Well, since this time she was actively using the Ranger's bad habits. Reflective armor that caught the light, charging headlong into fights, and even pausing to deliver superfluous quips before finishing off her opponents.

That sort of behavior was all well and good for somepony wearing power armor and sporting heavy weaponry. To say nothing of the advantages that his magic offered, but Windfall was not outfitted nearly so well. Her barding may have looked metallic, but it was mostly just boiled brahmin hide with a few strategically placed ceramic plates that really only offered protection from small bits of shrapnel and grazing low-caliber shots. While taking a rifle round straight to the chest would probably just annoy the Lone Ranger, it would absolutely outright end the pegasus.

Of course, my cautionary warnings were almost continually overshadowed by DJ PON3's next broadcast about the renegade Steel Ranger's latest heroic act, often accompanied by audio recordings of the Ranger delivering his latest warning to the bandits of the Wasteland.

I pulled the cart up in front the town's premier drinking establishment, Bourbon Street. I'd done business with the owner on several prior occasions, a brown unicorn mare by the name of Sandalwood. She gave me a fair enough deal on what I brought, and if I was going to have to negotiate with a bar owner, it may as well be a cute one.

This early in the morning, the place was basically empty, save for those few like myself who had braved traveling at night in order to avoid the hazards of the day. A few of young stallions dressed in the dusters of small time peddlers were seated at a table chatting amongst themselves, and barely took notice of my entrance. Sandalwood noticed though.

“Why, Jackboot!” the unicorn greeted me warmly. Her eyes darted past me towards the entrance for a brief moment, “where's your little friend?”

“Shopping,” I answered with a smile of my own. It wasn't quite as genuinely warm as the unicorn's was, but it was pleasant enough. Hard to be genuinely happy to see a pretty mare like that when you knew that you couldn't fuck them without getting yourself exposed, “I don't suppose you're in a buying mood today?”

“Right to business, as usual,” the brown bar owner noted with a nod of her head. She gestured towards the few patrons that were currently present, “as you can see, I have customers at all hours. Which means I'm in constant need of fresh stock. What have you got for me?” then her expression soured slightly, “and it better not be any more of that Jennyson crap. Turns out there ain't nopony who's interested in that stuff. It took me months to find a buyer!”

“Must have been why I got such a good deal on it,” I lied, knowing full well that the alcohol in question had been obtained in a similar manner to my current stock, “don't worry, I have some Wild Pegasus this time,” Sandalwood's expression brightened once more, “and something better too: genuine Special Reserve.”

The sour expression returned, “now, Jackboot, I like to think we have a good thing going with our business relationship,” the unicorn mare began in a chiding tone, “don't go ruining it by trying to feed me some line about 'Special Reserve'. I don't deal in those imitations like some less savory bartenders.”

As she spoke, I pulled out one of the aforementioned bottles and set it on the counter, a smug smile on my face. Flashing me a skeptical look, the unicorn levitated the bottle up into the air and examined the label, “hmm. I'll admit it's excellent work. The paper looks genuinely aged and...” her words trailed off. I could see the faint prism of colors painted across her face as the fluid caught the light. The unicorn's eyes went wide and fixed on me, “...it's real,” she whispered, setting the bottle down on the counter, “how'd you get your hooves on a real bottle of Special Reserve?!”

“Eighteen bottles, to be precise,” I informed the mare with a grin, “interested?”

“You know Celestia damn well I'm interested!” the mare hissed at me, “when word gets out that I have a supply of Special Reserve I'll have customers coming here all the way from Seaddle just for a shot of this stuff. Jackboot, I'm not normally that kind of mare, but I would let you do all manner torrid and unspeakable things to me for your source.”

I was pretty sure that she was exaggerating. Maybe. I any case, the mark on my back made me reluctant to entertain the notion of seeing how serious an offer she was making, so I merely chuckled, “trade secret.”

“Of course,” the mare seemed to deflate slightly, “so, what're you asking?”

“The usual rate for the two cases of Wild Pegasus standard I've got, and fifteen hundred for the Special Reserve.”

This got Sandalwood's attention. She narrowed her eyes at me, “that's too fair a price,” she correctly noted, “what's the catch?”

“I want the fifteen hundred in caps...at the current Republic exchange rate.”

“I see,” the unicorn rubbed her chin with her hoof, casting an aside glance at me, “two thousand caps, huh? Plus the three hundred bits for the standard. The bits I can do you right now, but the caps...it'll take me some time to get that many together.”

“How long?”

She thought for a good long moment, “assuming no major setbacks? I should have them by tomorrow morning.”

“That's fine,” I nodded. I extended my hoof over the counter, “we have a deal then?”

The mare tapped her smaller hoof to mine and nodded, “oh, indeed we do!” she glanced down momentarily and her horn flared. I heard the dull click of a lock opening followed soon by the sound of the ancient hinges of a safe door swinging open. Three small canvas pouches rose up into sight, enveloped in the unicorn's magic and were set down on the desk. I deftly scooped them into my saddlebags, idly noting the pipbuck confirm the amount that I had received.

Sandalwood closed the safe and regarded me appreciatively, “heading to New Reino, are we?”

It was a fair guess. New Reino wasn't an NLR controlled town, and so they didn't use the Republic's currency internally. Not officially anyway. Some merchants might be willing to accept bits as payment if they knew they'd be heading north, but your safest bet was to barter with caps. There existed places in the city where you could exchange your money one way or the other, but they were all controlled by the three ponies that literally owned New Reino. You only got a one-for-one exchange rate turning bits into caps, and you got even worse going the other way.

So there was only one real reason why somepony would be asking for payment in caps in the New Lunar Republic: they were heading south. New Reino was the largest town out that way, and probably the only one that was worth going to.

“Lot of stills down there,” I said by way of explanation, “good place to pick up stock for a booze runner like myself.”

“True, true,” the bar owner nodded her agreement.

In point of fact, of course, I was headed there for no such reason. My inventory was pried from the hooves of dead bandits, not purchased for resale from local distributors. No, the money was for myself, and the reason for New Reino as my destination was simple: nopony asked questions. It was the kind of place where you could walk into a bank with a sack of caps, deposit it, and walk out without anypony hassling you for tax forms. Not that New Reino had any actual “banks”. However, there were clubs and casinos that would permit you to store your valuables in their vaults for a nominal fee. Which was what I did, and had been doing for the last eight years.

A glass floated out from behind the bar and Sandalwood poured a measure of the Special Reserve into it before sliding one towards me, “have a drink, on the house.”

With a wry smile, I reached for the glass...

“I get one too, right?”

I about leaped right out of my hide. At least Sandalwood had managed to catch the drink before it spilled.

Damn that mare and her wings! I swear to Celestia I was either going to clip them or put a fucking bell around her neck. How was a pony supposed to hear somepony walking up behind them when they didn't actually have to walk? I glared at the pegasus hovering just behind me, noting the mischievous little smile tugging at her lips. Yup, she'd done that on purpose. I bit back the scolding that I'd have loved nothing more than to deliver, opting not to cause a scene in front of Sandalwood. My act of “kindness” for the week to satisfy the little yellow pegasus mare that lived in my head. I had found, over the years, that she could be compelled to remain out of my thoughts so long as she was appeased by the occasional act of altruism. A small price to pay for literal peace of mind.

If only Steel Bit and Whiplash could be so easily mollified...

My eyes went to the unicorn bartender. She smirked and produced a second glass, filling it with a measure as well. Windfall swooped in and collected her treat, throwing it back with barely a “thank you”. She then whipped out her own half-empty bottle and refilled her glass. I rolled my eyes and carried my own drink to an empty table. My albatross of a pegasus companion deigned to join me, even going so far as to cease her fluttering and sit down.

“That was quick,” I noted dryly.

The alabaster mare shrugged, “eh, Flechette sold the drums to somepony else the other day and French Tip isn't open yet. So I figured I'd find out how the sale went.”

I slipped a hoof into my saddlebag and tossed the three small pouches onto the table, “there's your cut: three hundred bits.”

“That's it?” the pegasus frowned, even as she swept them into her own bag with the tip of her wing.

“Plus your six bottles of Special Reserve,” I pointed out as I took a careful sip of my drink. Surprisingly spicy, I noted.

“Oh, right,” that response seemed to satisfy the flier and she took another swig from her bottle, “so, where are we off to next?”

I feigned thinking for a few brief moments, “we could head to New Reino again,” I suggested, “that region's always got a criminal element roaming around. Plenty of deserving ponies for you to violently rehabilitate.”

For the scarcest of moments, a darkness passed across Windfall's face. I'd seen that expression on her before many times. Often it was bathed in the flickering flares of muzzle flashes as she gunned down some raider or other. I used to wear a similar expression in the arena, while bathed in blood and gore. Similar, but...different. I couldn't quite put my hoof on it, but I couldn't shake the feeling that those dark thoughts that the pegasus mare was entertaining weren't about her future victims.

The sound of hushed whispers and a scraping chair from across the room drew my attention to the bar's other patrons. Their conversation had shifted in its tone perceptibly, and I could see now that one of them was darting their eyes in our direction every so often. Wait, no. Not our direction, just Windfall's. Oh, for the...not this shit again...

Sure enough, the whispering culminated in one of the stallions pushing himself away from the others and strutting towards us. If he noticed my stern expression, a subtle hint for him to abort this folly, the younger earth pony gave no indication. Given how fervently his gaze was wandering up and down Windfall's spine, I doubted that he had even noticed my existence.

The white pegasus sitting across from me quirked an eyebrow at the sudden shift in my mood, and turned to follow the direction of my stare. The stallion walking up behind her put a broad grin up on his face and made his introduction, “hey there, little filly, why don't you ditch grandpa there and let a real stallion like myself show you a good time in this town?”

'Grandpa'? Really? I shot up to my feet, slamming a hoof on the table to get the youth's attention. His startled eyes locked on me, as did Windfall's, “this is a private conversation we're having. Go back to your drinking and maybe this 'grandpa' won't have to make himself a new set of dentures from the teeth he'll knock out of your mouth.”

“Woah,” the younger earth pony waved his hoof at me dismissively, “no need for the hostility, buddy. I'm just extending an offer to the lovely filly here. Not my fault if she says 'yes'...” his eyes went back to Windfall, searching for her answer to his invitation.

I stepped around the table, placing myself between them, glaring at the interloper. Stallions made eyes and passes at Windfall. That was just a thing that happened in most places. She was a good looking mare in her own right, and pegasi were rather exotic in the Wasteland. However, just because it happened, that didn't mean that I had to like it, and I didn't. It's not that I believed that they'd somehow manage to lure her from my side and disrupt our enterprising little partnership. I just...I didn't like the idea of somepony like this touching her.

Windfall could do better than this fool.

Like, you, brother dear?

No. She could do better than me, too.

“Back. Off.”

“Ooh...jealous boyfriend?” the stallion ventured. I could smell the whiskey on his breath now. He was drunk and stupid; though I doubted that one condition was responsible for the other, “afraid she might like what I got better than some flaccid old-”

Whatever he was about to say, he never got to finish saying it. I didn't give him that chance. Somehow, I got the impression that either the younger stallion hadn't thought things would get physical, or if they did, that he would have seen it coming soon enough to react. Maybe if he'd been sober, he would have. It wouldn't have helped him, of course; but he probably wouldn't have been so thoroughly caught off his guard like he was.

I was on him in an instant. He didn't even cry out or react. He just stopped speaking as my forehoof cuffed him upside the head. The blow was followed immediately by a tackle that took him to the floor. A couple more quick jabs into his nose to get it bleeding, and then a hoof pressed down against his windpipe. I wasn't interested in killing him...well, okay, so I was interested, but I didn't think that Sandalwood would have appreciated that very much.

The pony beneath me was looking into my face with wide, terrified, eyes, trying to choke something out with great difficulty. I heard more scraping of chairs on the wood-planked floor. His friends were scrambling to come to their comrade's aid. How many had their been at that table? Four? I could fight four ponies if they were drunk enough. There might be some collateral damage to the bar though, and Sandalwood might not be happy with that. I also couldn't guarantee that I would leave them all alive by the end. It was hard to go easy on somepony when you were fighting a group of them.

My temper may have just gotten us into trouble.

I was plotting exit strategies in my head when I suddenly heard the metallic snap of a gun's safety being flicked into the 'fire' position. Fuck, had there been a fifth patron that I had forgotten?

The other three stallions in front of me halted in their tracks. A mare's voice spoke from just behind me, “easy there, fellas. I'm sure they're just going to have a friendly little discussion. Aren't you, Jackboot?”

My eyes darted left, and I saw that Windfall was standing beside me. One of her wings was flipped up, exposing the submachine gun nestled beneath. In her mouth was the tab wired to the trigger, the barrel of her weapon keeping the three stallions honest. The pegasus mare's eyes were on me though.

I took a breath. I guess I'd be entertaining two acts of kindness this week. Yellow Bitch better not expect much from me next week. My eyes went back to the pony beneath my hoof. He was terrified, and still struggling for a full breath. My point had been made, and Windfall's choice looked to be clear. There was nothing more to gain from inflicting further pain on him. I could also see the brown unicorn watching me from behind to the bar with a critical eye.

With a final snort at the prone stallion, I stepped off him and headed for the door, “let's go find a room somewhere. It was a long trip,” Windfall followed me out with a parting smile and wave of her wing towards the staring stallions.

Once outside, the pegasus mare's pleasant smile fell away in concern as she trotted up to my side, “what the hell was that all about?”

“They were being rude.”

“Yeah, drunks usually are,” Windfall pointed out, “you should have just let me turn him down or something. You did know I was going to tell him to get lost, right?”

Of course I did. Windfall wasn't so sloppy a judge of character as to just follow some random stallion home because he made eyes at her. I'd certainly never seen her flirt with any stallion with any measure of seriousness. Save for lulling bandits into false senses of security and bargaining for better prices on weapons or alcohol, she rarely conversed with them at all actually. So then why had that interaction set me off like that?

He was encroaching on your claim, Whiplash offered with a sly smirk.

Windfall was not my 'claim'.

Some stallion's going to mount that filly someday, the figment of my sister pointed out, how does it make you feel when you think about it being somepony who's not you?

I shook the voice from my head with a frustrated snort, which drew an odd look from the winged pony beside me. To Windfall, I replied, “I didn't like him calling me 'old',” which was true enough, but not what had set me off like that.

“Well, then let's go to French Tip's and look into some mane dyes,” the mare suggested, sounding like she was only half joking, “maybe even touch up your coat a little bit...”

“No,” I insisted, perhaps a little more forcefully than I should have. Windfall frowned at the response, but let the issue drop. However, a little smile lingered on her lips the rest of the way to the Shady Saddles Motel.

She thinks you don't like other stallions hitting on her, Whiplash mused, she thinks you want her for yourself. And she's right. You do want her...

I just wanted to get some sleep. It was a long way to New Reino from here. Whiplash could think what she wanted, and so could Windfall.

True to her word, Sandalwood came up with the two thousand caps by morning. It was probably damn near every cap present in the town to be honest. I made the transaction while Windfall was out buying last minute provisions for the trip, under the guise of offering an apology for my behavior the previous day. The pegasus had seemed pleased by my admission of remorse. Of course, in reality I felt no such thing. I simply didn't need Windfall to see me collecting such a large sum of money after having already doled out her 'share' of our take from the bandits.

What she didn't know about, she couldn't miss.

We were on the road before noon.

Somehow, in what must have been a miracle borne of Celestia, Windfall had not drunk all of her Special Reserve during that first night. Five bottles yet remained tucked away in her saddlebags and she had made the vehement promise to herself to save the last for a 'special occasion'. What that occasion would be, she admitted that she didn't know yet; but she'd be ready for it when it came! Though it looked to take a good deal of restraint on her own part, Windfall sated her thirst with a bottle of Wild Pegasus vanilla. Every so often, I'd catch her taking a swig, and then sighing with a frown of disappointment at the lack of a 'Splash of Rainbow!' that she had only recently become so acquainted with.

At one time, I had actually been a little concerned with how enthusiastically the pegasus had taken to alcohol. Granted, I guess it wasn't unusual for ponies in the Wasteland to do a lot of drinking, and younger ponies were certainly prone to excess in the beginning as they explored the boundaries of their tolerance. However, Windfall had not seemed to really...enjoy her drinking. She would imbibe more than her share on many an occasion, but never with any of the sense of joy that most youths did. The pegasus seemed to drink for the reasons that an old pony full of regrets might: to forget.

Eventually, she had begun to mellow out and find some comfort in alcohol. At least she seemed happier when she had a decent buzz going. Especially after a hit.

“You know,” Windfall began by way of conversation as she placed the half-empty bottle of whiskey into her saddlebag, “I don't really see you spending your money on much.”

My eyes wandered back to the filly, searching her face. And odd way to begin a chat. Did she suspect something? “I spend it on plenty.”

“A drink every now and then,” the pegasus conceded, “but I never see you do anything...I don't know...fun with it.”

“Fun?”

“I don't know. I mean, I get my hooves polished every once in a while,” the alabaster mare pointed out, “I'll get my mane styled or relax in a nice bath is there's one available. Just, you know, ways to relax and unwind.

“But I never really see you do anything but eat, drink, and sleep. Don't you ever feel like doing something for yourself?”

“Not particularly,” I said to the pegasus, “leastways not more than I already do.”

“But how do you deal with all the stress?”

“What stress?” I glanced back towards Windfall, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well, with all the...” the mare's voice trailed off, her eyes darkening slightly. Then she looked back up at me, “it doesn't bother you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind,” the pegauss insisted, fluttering up into the air, “I'm just...drunk I guess. I dunno,” she took a breath and put on a more cheerful expression, “I've started putting money aside for a savings,” she announced.

“Oh? Finally looking ahead?”

“Can't go around killing raiders forever, right?” Windfall pointed out with a strained smile, “need to look at other career options someday.”

That was news to me, actually. I didn't recall her ever mentioning a desire to stop going about the way we were. I guess it wasn't wholly surprising. I certainly had no grand desires to keep going around a picking fights with violent ponies for the rest of my life. Hence the reason for my endowment of caps from Sandalwood. This trip to New Reino would be yet another in a long line of treks to the city with a large pile of the Wasteland currency in my possession for the purposes of squirreling it away for the future. In time, I'd have enough gathered together that I could live off of it for the rest of my life. I could just move myself into a casino suite in New Reino and lounge around in comfort. Or, perhaps even better, I could take myself back to Manehattan and try buying my way into Ten Pony Tower. Back east I could even take on a live-in lover or two and really do some of that 'relaxing' Windfall had mentioned.

However, I had not known the pegasus to have any similar plans for a retirement. I was intrigued, “and what are your grand plans for the future?”

The mare rubbed the back of her neck, looking a little bashful, “I'm going to rebuild the ranch. Try and get it going again.”

I was confused for a brief moment. What ranch? Oh, “you mean your old home?”

“Yeah. I'm going to get some bits together, fix it up, and buy some new brahmin to get it all working again.”

Interesting, “Why that of all things? The whole of the Wasteland to live in, and you want to go back there?”

The mare shrugged, “it was my home.”

Part of me could understand that I guess. How long had I entertained the notion of going back to the White Hooves? Even looking back on my flight from Hoofington, I'd had other options. Cross the sea towards Trottingham, or maybe even somewhere else beyond. But I'd chosen Neighvada. Familiar territory. It was 'home', no matter how unwelcome I might be.

Sentiment, Steel Bit snorted in my head.

Calculated risk, I countered. I knew the area, and there was no way that Whiplash was still looking for me. I'd be at a greater disadvantage in someplace I knew absolutely nothing about.

“Windfall, the scourge of Neighvada's bandits and ruffians, milking brahmin,” I offered a wry smile to the mare, “that'd be a sight to see.”

“Eheh,” the mare laughed sheepishly, “yeah, well...maybe you could. You know, see it. You and I cou...”

Whatever else the pegaus might have wanted to say was interrupted by the sound of a distant scream. Both of our heads whipped in the direction of the cry. I could make out the forms of several running ponies to the southwest. My binoculars were out almost instantly to get a better look. They were beyond the range of the pipbuck's EFS, so I couldn't tell yet if they were hostile or not. Beside me, Windfall shot upwards to obtain a better vantage point.

Five ponies. Four of them chasing the fifth. The fleeing pony was the one that had uttered the scream. A violet unicorn mare. Odd. The ponies galloping after her were clearly rogues of some type; not much reason to be chasing a lone mare otherwise, however, she wasn't running towards Shady Saddles. It wasn't exactly close, I guess. A good ten miles from where we were at the moment, but the mare's current path would take her deeper into the Wasteland. She wasn't going to outrun them. Her best chance would have been to run as close to the town as she could get and hope that the Republic Guard ponies there would help her.

Maybe she'd become disoriented in her flight. Where had she even come from? There were no saddlebags across her back. Stable pony? No stable jumpsuit. What was going on?

Well, she didn't make it very far. One of the stallions barreling after her lunged and succeeded in tackling the mare to the ground. She screamed again, crying out. For help, one might presume. Yellow Bitch's pleading eyes not withstanding, I had a pretty fair idea of whether or not Windfall was going to 'contract' me to intervene in this little exchange.

I glanced upward to coordinate a plan of action with the pegaus, only to see her already winging her way towards the ponies.

Oh, for Celestia's...

I groaned with frustration, put the binoculars away, and started into a run. I hated having to improvise these things. It was always so much easier when I was able to draw out a plan with Windfall before we went in. Like with those bandits the other night. That had gone off damn near perfectly. When we charge in like this, things had a much higher likelihood of going awry. We didn't know who these ponies were, what weapons they had on them, how many of them were unicorns and what spells they knew...

This was going to be rough.

If there was a single saving grace, it was that I had two of them: those four ponies had no idea that they were about have their little chase interrupted by two other armed ponies, with one of them being a pegasus. The other thing was that while I may not have known exactly what my plan of attack was going to be, Windfall's was thankfully extremely predictable: fly in and spray bullets everywhere. It was a tried and true opening move in most of our fights out in the open. Especially when we had the initiative.

Only two of the ponies were struggling with the unicorn mare that the group had been chasing. The other two were hanging back, watching the scene with savage little smiles on their faces. Those were the ponies that Windfall dove upon first. Her twin 10mm death dealers belched streams of lead slugs at the pair, kicking up a whirlwind of dust, rock, and blood as they found their marks. One of them was utterly shredded by the attack, the second took a few grazing blows but escaped the worst of the carnage. He was no slouch either, and a unicorn to boot. Before Windfall had finished her first pass, he produced a small magical energy pistol from his saddlebags and started firing lances of crimson death into the air after her.

Seeing that they were not as alone in these open Wastes as the group had once believed, one of the others accosting the unicorn mare took his rifle into his mouth and started firing as well. The third remaining pony maintained his hold on their quarry while a pistol floated nearby, trained on the sky but not firing. The violet unicorn lay slack beneath him, unconscious.

I was already at a full run, charging headlong into the fight. What other choice did I have? Windfall's best advantage in battle was surprise, after that she needed to rely on her speed. It wasn't as though there was any cover in the air for her to duck behind. Her armor was light, thinner than mine was in most places, and would offer her only token resistance against glancing shots from low-caliber weapons. A solid hit would, at best, knock her out of the air and send her hurtling to the ground below.

Targets, I needed to prioritize targets! Three ponies left, all armed, and two of them were unicorns. Energy pistol, small caliber pistol, and a lever-action rifle. All trained on the heavens at the moment, but that would invariably change the moment I revealed my presence. Which one would be the hardest to deal with? One of the unicorns. Their magic represented a variable that was nearly impossible to mitigate, and thus were a heightened threat in my book; and the one with the magic energy weapon was arguably the most dangerous of the two. Gunshot wounds could be treated with a healing potion, and were rarely instantly lethal save for a few notable exceptions. Getting vaporized however, that was harder to treat effectively.

So it was that the unicorn painting the sky with red light earned the full attention of SATS the moment I was within range. Time froze, shots from my revolver were assigned, and then time was permitted to flow once more.

He was completely unaware, his eyes angrily narrowed at the pegasus flitting about in the distance. Two shots were fired from my weapon, just to be safe. The first took his face off at the jawline. The second sailed through the cloud of red mist that had once been the front half of his head. The corpse fell over to the side.

My entrance into the fight had been made, and the two remaining ponies had noticed it.

SATS was no longer an option, as it lacked the magical capacity to handle more than those two shots before needing time to refresh its charge, and I had not had time to prepare a dose of Dash; so I was left to finish this fight sober. I turned to face the rifle-wielding earth pony, and was just in time to have Full Stop slammed out of my mouth by the swinging buttstock of the long gun which the earth pony was whipping about in his teeth by the barrel like a cudgel. A couple inches closer, and I might have lost more than the revolver!

As the heavy wooden stock of the rifle arced back around, I reared back on my hind legs and parried it away, turning with the swing so that I could grab hold of the weapon and wrench it from his grasp. The rifle went skipping along the ground out of his reach. My head dipped to the sheath on my foreleg and drew the knife. At least one of us was going to be armed in this fight.

This pony had kept his wits about him too though, it seemed. I had only just turned back to square off against the other stallion to find him lunging at me. Either he'd seen me go for the knife, or he'd already committed to taking this fight to the ground the moment he'd lost the rifle. I wasn't prepared for that, I will admit. Most ponies aren't quite so bold as that, especially if they were accustomed to fighting with firearms at range. This stallion was a brawler, and wasn't going to be shy about rolling around with me in the dirt.

Try as I might, I wasn't able to keep the knife in my mouth when we hit the ground. He'd hit me with everything he could muster. I was far too busy worrying about trying to land right to be concerned with something as trivial as the knife. Oddly enough, we were likely to be too close to make that weapon truly effective anyway. He wasn't going for punches and kicks, this pony was trying to pin me and get his arms around my neck. I Couldn't let that happen.

I wasn't used to this though. The White Hoof style of hoof-to-hoof wasn't focused on grappling. It was about landing powerful blows on your opponent's head and joints from a standing or rearing position. I was already on my back at this point, and doing all that I could to avoid having my limbs pinned by the pony crawling all over me. This was obviously the style that suited his preferred combat style though. Every time I thought I'd found an opening to exploit to wriggle free, he was right there with another hold to keep me from getting away. Each time, I felt myself becoming more an more restricted. Then his leg kicked out suddenly and I found myself flipped over onto my stomach and then almost immediately snapped up and pulled back against his chest. His forelegs were prying at my throat, and I was desperately trying to pull them away.

It wasn't going to be long before he had his hooves on my neck though. When that happened, this fight wound be over.

You're just going to let this pony hug you to death? Whiplash chided, that's sad...

At least she'd finally shut up, I thought bitterly as I felt my opponent finally manage to snake one of his forelegs across my throat.

Nearby, a pistol cracked several times.

“Hey! Hooves off!”

Both of us looked to the right in surprise, and we were just in time to see a pair of white hooves streaking for us. Well, more specifically, the pony who had me grabbed up in his arms. I felt his hold loosen as the shock of the sight overtook him and pressed my advantage. I rocked forwards and rolled away, slipping easily through the slack grasp a split second before Windfall's double-buck connected with the other earth pony.

She didn't have a lot of weight to her, but there had been a great deal of speed behind that hit. More than enough to make up for the difference in their respective masses. The earth pony gasped as the smaller hooves took him full in the ribs, a few of which I could hear crack under the blow. Windfall wasn't done yet, either. She used the strike as a pushing off point as well, propelling herself straight upwards. Her wings flipped out at the peak of her jump, and snapped back with an audible snap as she used them to give her a burst of downward speed. Her whole body twisted as she descended, swinging her hips and leg downward. I winced reflexively as the pegasus used both the momentum of her rotation and the speed of her short descent to drive her hind hooves into the side of the stunned pony's temple. His body crumpled to the ground, a noticeable divot in his skull.

Though, judging from the expression of pain on the feathered mare's face, she had suffered as well for that delivery. Or, perhaps it something to do with that crimson stain on her left shoulder...

Horseapples! She'd been shot!

The pistol fire. The fourth pony! We weren't out of this yet. Where was-

My thoughts became suddenly diverted by the sensation of something sharp putting pressure to my throat. I went instantly rigid, my eyes darting downward. I could see the very familiar hilt of my combat knife. I could also see that it was wrapped in a viridian glow. Unicorn magic. Impossible! He was missing his Celestia-damned face!

“Don't. Move.”

The voice had come from my right. I looked as far as I could in that direction without turning my head, seeing as how it had something pointy pressed against it. No, not that unicorn whose face I had dissolved with Full Stop. Nor, did I see, was it the pistol-wielding unicorn stallion that I had just been worried about a moment ago. It was the mare that we had come to save. The one who had been unconscious a minute ago.

Perhaps not so unconscious after all. Next to her was the body of that last bandit. His eyes were wide, and his throat was open.

That mare had her sights set on me now, and I wasn't particularly liking the way that her sharp emerald eyes were glaring right into mine. Her soft violet coat was smeared with dirt and grim, likely from her recent flight across the Wasteland, but I recognized that her hooves had once mean very neatly polished and looked after. I'd seen enough of Windfall's own hooficures to recognize when somepony had had one on a regular basis. That and the wilting little flower emblazoned on her flank suggested that she was a mare accustomed to a comfortable lifestyle, but those eyes of hers told a very different story. That and the corpse laying nearby.

I opened my mouth to speak, but instantly felt the knife hovering at my neck press harder against my flesh. I tilted my head back as far as I could to keep the edge from cutting into me, which precluded me from saying anything.

“Ah ah ah! No words,” the lavender mare insisted. She looked over at Windfall, who was wearing a very shocked expression, “thanks for the help Enclaver. Don't know why you did it, and I don't care. But, if it's alright with you,” the unicorn's piercing emerald eyes were back on me, “I'd like to kill this last one myself...”

Ah, horseapples...

You know what they say, Jackboot, Whiplash sounded please to chime in for one last time, no good deed...

Yeah, yeah.

Fucking figures.

So this was how it was all going to end for me, huh? Throat sliced open by the very mare that I had just finished rescuing? You have got to be shitting me. This was ridiculous! Celestia, you fucking bitch! I did damn near everything I could to not end up like my father, and you're really going to let me die almost the exact same way he did? Well, fuck you! Fuck Yellow Bitch too. Her and her damned 'kindness'.

I glared at the unicorn, silently daring her to end me. If she thought that my last moments would be spent pleading or looking terrified, then she was going to be sorely disappointed.

“Woah! Wait!” Windfall cried out, stumbling in front of me, “he's with me!”

The unicorn balked, stunned by the intervention. However, the knife she held in her telekinetic grasp didn't falter, so I chose not to attempt anything quite yet. Let's just see how well the pegasus could plead my case.

“With you?” the unicorn snorted with some incredulity, “why would an Enclaver be hanging out with an earth pony?” then her eyes narrowed slightly, as though she were only now getting a clear look at the white pegasus, “wait...you're...not with the Enclave, are you?”

“No,” Windfall admitted, “I'm not. My name's, Windfall; and that's my...partner, Jackboot.

“We're not here to hurt you,” the pegasus put on an encouraging smile, “we're here to help.”

There was a tense silent moment as the lavender unicorn considered the information presented to her. The conclusion that she reached seemed to bode well for myself, at least, as I eventually felt the blade pull away from my throat. I didn't get it back though. The mare kept it nearby, hovering between herself and the pair of us. She seemed...tentative. Suspicious. A pair of armed ponies just 'happened' to stumble upon her in her time of greatest need? I could see her weighing the more likely explanation: either she was the luckiest mare in the Wasteland, or something was up.

“So...” Windfall pressed, still trying to diffuse the tension hanging around us, “what's your name?”

A brief pause, then, “Foxglove.”

“It's good to meet you, Foxglove,” the pegasus' smile broadened slightly as she sensed that progress was being made. I relaxed a little bit too, now that it looked as though I wasn't going to be imminently murdered by the mare I'd just risked my life to save. Well, I suppose that when you really got down to it, I hadn't done any of that for the unicorn. It had been Windfall's death I was worried about. Eight years invested into that pegasus, and it was paying off wonderfully so far in a fiscal sense.

Though she did have a tendency to rush into certain situations without really weighing the risks. Case in point...

“What was up with them?” the winged mare continued, gesturing to the scattered corpses, “why were they after you?”

The unicorn frowned, “on a count of I escaped. They didn't cotton to that much. Must have figured it was downright rude of me.”

“Escaped? You were a prisoner?”

“She was a slave,” I supplied, finally finding my way into their conversation.

The unicorn glared at me, appearing to take great exception to my observation, “I was most certainly not a slave!” her eyes fell to the ground then, clouded with uncertainty, “leastways...not until this mornin' I wasn't.”

“What happened?” Windfall asked.

“I don't actually know for sure,” the unicorn admitted with a frown, “when I went to sleep last night—I think it was last night, anyway—I was still in New Reino. I woke up in a cage in some sort of shack,” she pointed at the dark colored unicorn with the slit throat laying near her, “heard this one talking about 'winning' me in a game of poker.

“If that means what I think it does, then there is one very dead pony walking around New Reino,” her cyan eyes flared with cold hatred, “he just don't know it yet.”

Foxglove's gaze then fell to us once more, and scanned the other three bodies nearby, “y'all are obviously capable types. You for hire?”

After hearing about this mare being sold off to cover a debt, Windfall didn't need much enticing at all, “absolutely,” she confirmed quickly, a cold glint in her own eye. Not surprising. The pegasus seemed possessed of a deep-rooted need to exact retribution on anypony who abused others. Slavers and the like especially.

I, however, was a little more discerning with regards to the 'jobs' we took on, “and you expect to pay...how exactly?” I indicated her bare flanks with my hoof. No saddlebags meant no money for payment. If this mare, or Windfall for that matter, thought that I was about to pick a fight with somepony in New Reino without compensation, they were sorely mistaken. I returned the pegasus' harsh stare unflinchingly, “death is cheap. Killing ain't.”

A smirk pulled at the edges of the unicorn's mouth. She pointed at the garroted pony, “I can show you their hideout. Weapons, ammo, a few other valuable treasures. And,” her smile broadened slightly, “I can show you a room there that even they didn't know about.”

Could she now? Given how keen she seemed to be in getting her vengeance, I bet she'd promise all sorts of things. Piles of caps and bits as tall as a Diamond Dog. Enough high-end weaponry to outfit an army. Secret rooms filled with treasures that nopony knew about. I know that I would promise a lot to get what I wanted, even if I had no way of delivering.

Windfall was going to have to pardon my rudeness, “payment up front.”

Both mares looked at me. The pegasus with an expression of consternation. The unicorn with one of amusement.

“Jackboot-!”

“Deal.”

Windfall couldn't keep her surprise hidden, “wait...really?”

“Yep,” the unicorn mare nodded. Then she held up a hoof, “but, I do want assurances.”

“You mean collateral,” I amended. Another amused smile from Foxglove, and a confirming nod. She understood the desire to be paid up front; not an uncommon one for most ponies doing business in the middle of nowhere. No guards or sheriffs to run to out here if somepony did you wrong. Of course, paying somepony before the job was done made it necessary to acquire some means of motivation. Why do the job when you'd already been paid, “what'd you have in mind?”

“Well, I'm feeling more than a little vulnerable at the moment,” the unicorn said, “and I'm about to enter the company of two armed ponies I only just met. I was thinking barding and a weapon.”

“You can keep the knife,” I nodded. I sure wasn't going to trust her with a gun any time soon, “but we're a little short on spare barding.”

“S'alright,” the lavender mare nodded in Windfall's direction, “I bet hers'll fit well enough.”

“Fine with me.”

“Hey!” the pegasus did not sound particularly thrilled with me giving up her armor quite so quickly.

“You wanted to help her, didn't you?” I reminded the flier, “well then, you get to foot the bill. Besides,” I steeped over closer to Windfall, getting a better look at the wound on her shoulder, “we need to get it off anyway to have a look at that.”

“It's just a flesh wound,” the young mare insisted.

“Uh huh,” I started undoing the straps holding the barding in place, “can you raise you arm?”

“I like it just fine where it is.”

“Drink this,” I passed the pegasus a healing potion once the barding was finally off. The unicorn mare quickly levitated the discarded armor over to herself and started putting it on, drawing a baleful look from the previous owner, “drink,” I reiterated. The white mare downed the purple liquid, and I watched as the flowed of blood ceased. The wound didn't close much, but at least the danger had passed. We could see about doing more for her once we reached New Reino.

I looked to the unicorn, who was currently adjusting a few of the straps to help the armor sit on her withers a little more comfortably, “are you satisfied?”

“It's a little loose around the flanks-”

“Loose?!”

“-but it'll do,” she flashed the two of us a broad smile, “now, I bet the two of you want your pay?”

I nodded, “and a more detailed explanation of what the job is exactly. Depending on what it is you want us to do, I might just go ahead and send you on your way with the knife and barding and forget we ever met.”

“You wouldn't dare!” Windfall protested, slamming her left hoof on the ground for emphasis and immediately whimpering at the pain the action caused her.

“I would,” I assured the pegasus, “if only to teach you a lesson about volunteering us for a job without even finding out what it is,” my attention went back to the unicorn, “so, let's walk and talk.”

Foxglove smiled and began walking back the way that she had been running from, “like I said: I woke up in their hideout, and heard them talking about how I'd been used to cover a bet. Pissed me off to no end, since the last time I checked, I hadn't been anypony's property. I was an employee.”

“And your employer was...?” I prompted.

“Tommyknocker,” the unicorn answered simply.

I did a prompt about-face and started heading back to the bodies of the ponies that we'd just killed. They might at least have a few valuables that would make this whole episode worthwhile if I did a thorough search, “enjoy the barding,” I called back, tugging gently on Windfall's right leg.

“Woah!” the flier protested, fluttering up into the air and out of my grasp, “hey, fuck that!” she glared at me, “what about my barding?”

“Like I said: it'll make a good lesson,” I reiterated, “because we're sure not doing this job.”

“Why not?” Windfall demanded, “who's Tommy-whatsits?”

“Tommyknocker,” I stressed the name through gritted teeth, appalled at the young mare's ignorance, “is one of the ponies that basically owns New Reino. We fuck this up, and the word'll be out to every corner of Neighvada that we're worth a small fortune to whoever knocks us off,” I thought for a moment, “assuming we even survive the attempt,” I added with an eye roll. A pony like that had a rather formidable protection detail, as power came with enemies. It was simply a job that was too big for the pair of us, or even a trio if Foxglove felt like contributing, to handle.

“Oh, but I have a plan,” the unicorn interjected. We both looked at her, and I found myself a little irked to see that she still possessed a coy smile on her lips. Her eyes were on Windfall though, “and she'll work into it perfectly.”

“What.”

It was the only response I could manage at that moment. This mare had a plan to kill one of the most powerful ponies in Neighvada—short of Princess Luna herself, likely? Why did that concern me? And how was Windfall supposed to factor into the equation?

“Well, out with it then!” the pegasus demanded.

“Tommyknocker likes his mares, and he likes his booze,” the unicorn began, resuming her direction of travel back towards the bandit hide-out. Windfall was hovering in her wake, listening intently to the lavender mare. Damn if I wasn't following too. This I had to hear, “in fact, the only time he's minus his security is when he's partaking in both.”

I knew where this was going now, “you want to set Windfall up with Tommyknocker as bait.”

“Pretty much,” the mare confirmed, “he knows me, so I sure can't do it.”

“Wait,” the pegasus interject, a thought seeming to occur to her, “is Tommy-whoever that one really fat blue earth pony with the bald spot?”

“That's him,” Foxglove confirmed.

“Eww,” Windfall stuck out her tongue in disgust, “on second though, you can keep the barding. I'm not letting that slob touch me. He slapped my flank that one time in the casino and said some things that made me want to vomit,” she glanced at me, “remember? I wanted to shoot him, but you wouldn't let me.”

“I remember,” I nodded, “and I'm glad to see that you do too. So, now that we're in agreement that this is a bad idea, can we wash our hooves of it?”

“Hold on,” the unicorn interrupted, “I said I had a plan,” her green eyes went to the pegasus, “and you won't have to touch him. He always takes a drink or two before he 'gets down to business'. You'll bring him something that he likes, and spike it. He'll be out before he can make a move.

“Once he's down, you'll bring him to the window, I'll levitate him down into a waiting cart that you and I'll pick up,” she favored me with a glance now, “and the three of us will cart him out of town. I'll take my revenge, and that's that. Easy, right?”

Okay, admittedly, I was starting to have fewer reservations. That wasn't to say that I was particularly happy with the plan, but I could see how it might work out with minimal risk to us. The part that had me the most hung up was putting Windfall in a room alone with Tommyknocker, “what if he doesn't want a drink?” that was the factor that Foxglove's entire plan hinged on. If he broke routine, the plan was fucked.

“Then I just put a gun to his head and ask him politely to walk to the window,” Windfall chimed in with a dark grin, “maybe he'll even refuse...”

“You're not going to be armed,” Foxglove corrected the pegasus sternly, “you'll be checked before the guards let you in his room. He's not a moron,” to me she said, “he'll have a drink. He always has a drink.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Like I said: I worked for him. For almost three years now,” the unicorn grimaced, “he always has a drink before he fucks.”

'Employee', huh? I was starting to get a sense of exactly what sort of 'work' Foxglove may have performed for Tommyknocker. Especially if she was so certain of how exactly the New Reino big-wig spent his personal time. Even Windfall looked to be catching on, if the concerned expression making its way onto her face was any indication. Odd. Foxglove didn't carry herself like a whore, not really. I should know; I'd spent a good bit of time with my fair share. Something about this unicorn was off. It wasn't enough to put me off the job though, not the way she had things worked out.

She knew Tommyknocker's tastes, his habits, and his weaknesses. This could work. I knew Windfall was all for it, given what we'd just seen this mare go through less than an hour ago. For myself, I was...not quite as opposed to the plan as I had been initially. I wasn't going to get the same satisfaction that the pegasus was from ridding the Wasteland of a pony like Tommyknocker, but there was still a respectable chance of finding something valuable at the hideout that Foxglove knew about. Hitting it on our way to New Reino would allow me to add its value to the caps that I was already toting around in my saddlebags.

The biggest risks fell to Windfall, really. I guess, even if things went sour and Tommyknocker did deviate, the pegasus could just opt to evacuate through the window and meet us outside of town. We'd still have been paid, Windfall would be safe, and Foxglove would need to find somepony else to help her sate her thirst for revenge. We'd have tried, her plan would have failed, and our business would be at an end. Then it'd be off to Seaddle to sell what weapons we had on us for even more profit.

“Alright then,” I said, finally, “we'll try it your way.”

I had a bad feeling about this.

“I thought you said there were two more of them that had stayed behind?” I looked questioningly at the lavender unicorn in silvery barding standing next to me.

Ahead of us, nestled into the base of a ridge, was what looked to be an old general store. A very small one too. The windows were all boarded up with plywood, denying us the ability to see inside. However, we were close enough that my pipbuck's EFS should have been able to detect whether anypony was inside. No blips hovered at the base of my field of vision though. Not a single pony or critter lay within. Less than two hours had passed since Foxglove made her escape, not enough time for the two remaining ponies inside to have decided to go out looking for their companions.

We certainly hadn't encountered anypony during our return trip. So, they had to be around here somewhere.

“There were,” the mare insisted, “maybe they went back to New Reino for some reason?”

Possible. The mare they had received as payment to cover their winnings 'miraculously' knows how to pick a lock and make her escape the moment she awakens? I'll admit that the thought might have crossed my mind too that it wasn't a coincidence if I'd been them. It was entirely possible that they'd gone to visit Tommyknocker in order to have a conversation with him to that effect.

In any case, nopony was inside the store at the moment. Which meant that our payday collection had just become a much simpler affair.

I glanced over at the white pegasus hovering nearby, “do a round or two of the area,” I instructed her, “don't go too far, but make sure nopony's skulking around,” Windfall nodded and fluttered off. I looked back at Foxglove, “let's go inside.”

The two of us walked semi-cautiously towards the door, which I noted had been left ajar. That was curious. If this was really where those ponies kept their valuables, and none of them were about, surely they'd have closed and locked this door? I mean, I guess it was far enough off the beaten path that hardly anypony was likely to just stumble upon it, but that hardly seemed a reason not to at least close the door to keep wandering critters from moving in while they were out, right?

My pace slowed slightly as we got closer. My eyes traced over swaths of pocked and chipped brickwork around the doorway. The telltale signs of a gun-battle. The question was: how long ago had that fight taken place? I nodded at the damage and pointed it out to the unicorn beside me, “was that there when you left?”

Foxglove shrugged, “I dunno,” the violet mare admitted with a shrug, “I was a might more concerned with outrunning the ponies chasing me than admiring the masonry.”

Fair point, and a moot one as it turned out. I received all of the answers that I needed when I pushed the door open and glanced inside. The unicorn mare's gasp confirmed that the room we beheld now was not as it had looked when she'd awoken there earlier that morning.

Hard to know what would have drawn them. Maybe it was all of the commotion raised by Foxglove's escape. Maybe a patrol had noticed these ponies skulking about and they'd merely only now gotten around to doing something about them. Maybe it'd just been bad luck. Whatever the events that lead to the fates of the two ponies who'd remained behind here, the specifics of them were laid clear in the form of blood-splattered walls and a bone-white mural.

She was an ambitious bitch all right, to be poaching this close to Shady Saddles. Raids deep into NLR territory were ballsy enough, but Whiplash was risking bringing the wrath of New Reino down on her too. While the bustling party-city didn't have any standing armies per-say; they did have money, and money bought you gun-toting mercenaries who were perfectly willing to go out and shoot anypony you wanted.

“White Hooves,” Foxglove whispered, a note of fear coloring her words. I could see the realization plain on her face: if she hadn't made her escape when she did, she'd have far bigger concerns than being some gangster's slave.

My eyes went back to my EFS once more, and I did a little turn in place. Nothing in range but two little yellow blips, one of them darting about across my vision. No red at all.

Do you really think your own kind would show up to you as red on that thing? Whiplash's voice inquired sweetly.

…

After allowing a few seconds for foxglove and myself to take in the white mark slathered on the far wall, I cleared my throat and brought us back to task. We weren't going to find weapons or ammunition left in this part of the store, not if the White Hooves had come through. If there was anything of value to be found here, it would be in that 'secret room' that foxglove claimed to know about, “you mentioned a hidden door?”

The unicorn shook herself out of her dazed state and nodded, exhibiting only the slightest of trembles, “yeah...right. It's over here,” she gestured towards the left wall and made her way in that direction. I noticed that it was the part of the room which contained the cage that the unicorn had likely awoken in. She walked past it a short ways and came to a stop near a shelf that sat neglected in the back corner of the shop. I saw that it wasn't pressed quite all the way back against the wall like its brethren nearby. Foxglove's horn glowed green and the shelf took on a similar aura, canting further out of the way.

The unicorn smiled and presented to me the reason for the shelf's dislocated state with a little flourish of her hoof. Only when I got much closer did I notice that there was something protruding from the wall. A tiny little metal box with a pair of little round buttons, no different than a hundred others I'd seen in Old World places like this.

I frowned, “isn't that just a light switch?”

“A light switch that runs into the floor?” the lavender mare asked with a quirk of her brow. Her hoof traced the thin piece of conduit that ran from the box down into the floor. She reached out and depressed the lower button. After a beat, I heard the sound of ancient motors whirring to life behind me. I spun around in time to see a swath of floor near the back of the store tremble and shudder as it began to move! Decades of dirt and refuse bounced about as the floor split open and feel inward with jerky but controlled motions. The unicorn stepped up beside me, her eyes dancing with a sort of amused satisfaction as she watched the opening appear in the manner that she'd predicted.

Her ear twitched briefly, “if these ponies knew about this, then they sure didn't know how to take care of it. It don't sound like those bearings have ever been greased, and at least one of those stator coils is on its last leg,” she favored me with a smile, “just the sort of thing you'd expect from a motor that ain't been used in a couple hundred years.”

I narrowed my eyes at the mare, “you can tell all of that from the way it sounds?”

The mare chuckled, “oh, I can tell heaps more than that from the way it sounds, but that ain't no matter to you. Why don't we see what you're about to be paid for delivering Tommyknocker?”

With that, the unicorn trotted down the ancient stairway that she'd revealed with the press of that little button. I followed after her warily. What did a whore know about Old World tech?

Ancient lights flickered to life as the two of us descended into the store's basement. I was beginning to wonder what sort of shop this had been exactly, as the architecture we observed now was far removed from the brick and plaster of the building on the surface. I was reminded of the interior of Stables as we made our way along the metal-walled corridor. At the entrance, was a symbol etched into the wall that had, at one time, seemed to have been painted with vibrant colors. A trio of silver gears contained within a red apple, bisected by a sword. Along the bottom were written the words: 'Ministry of Wartime Technology'.

The title was unfamiliar, but I had seen that symbol before on the armor of Steel Rangers. Were we in one of their old bunkers? The dust and the old musty air suggested that they hadn't used this place in quite a while, but if this was truly one of their old homes, then maybe they'd left something worthwhile behind.

“An MWT facility,” the unicorn noted as she too regarded the symbol, “ain't that a thing? Wonder what they were looking into out here...”

We soon came to a closed metal door. Upon it was a different picture from the one in the corridor. This one was of what looked to be the silhouette of a white earth pony, only the rear half of it was striped with black. It was framed by the words, 'Mystery Mare Project'. A terminal beside the door prompted us for a passcode. I grimaced. Horseapples. This sure had been a long way to come for nothing. There was no way that I was going to be able to guess at the code needed to open these doors.

Maybe there was something above that the White Hooves would have missed...

My attention was drawn by a sharp hiss and the sound of metal grinding as ancient motors burst to life. I looked just in time to see the door rising up into the ceiling. Beside the open portal, the lavender unicorn stood at the terminal, smirking.

“Crabapples. Should have known. Damn near every MWT password has something to do with apples,” Foxglove snorted with amusement, “no points for originality, but I do admire sticking to a theme,” her attention turned to me now, “after you?”

“How did...?”

Who was this mare? What did she do for Tommyknocker exactly that she knew how to hack into an Old World terminal with hardly any effort? This might have been a bit much. Maybe the lockpicking I could put aside. Some ponies had some kinks, and maybe she'd been left in some predicaments often enough to be motivated to learn how to escape from them on her own, fine. Recognizing innocuous little switches and determining what their function was at a glance...maybe she was just really perceptive? But having a way with computers too? She wasn't just some mare off the streets of New Reino who happened to work for one of the big players in that city.

“Who are you?”

The unicorn's green eyes danced a little at my question, her smile broadening slightly, “why, whatever do you mean, Mister Jackboot?”

I jabbed my hoof at the terminal, “where'd you learn to do that?”

She shrugged, “I pick up things here and there. You know how it is.”

Navigating through those old systems was something that anypony could learn, given enough time and an open terminal. But bypassing the security wasn't a talent that a laypony could just 'pick up'. You had to know things about how those computers worked that couldn't be garnered from staring at them or prompting the system for help with basic commands. The only ponies that I'd ever met that could do things like that had either grown up in a stable, or been taught by somepony who had. And if she knew terminals well enough to have gotten around it that quickly...why was she living in New Reino, and not working somewhere important in Seaddle?

It was obvious that she was being evasive though. What she had to hide, I was quite curious to learn. Of course, it'd be supremely hypocritical of me to expect the unicorn to reveal everything about her history to somepony who was little more than a stranger, when I still kept secrets from Windfall even after all this time. I didn't need to know Foxgloves life story to do the job she was paying us to. As long as something worthwhile lay inside, I could be satisfied. Besides, she'd be out of our manes the moment we were done anyway. She could keep her secrets.

“Whatever,” I strode through the door into the rooms beyond.

I didn't go very far before I came to a stop, awed by what I was looking at. Lights, weary from decades of inactivity, were slow to come to life. Illumination gradually flickered outwards from the doorway that I was standing in, revealing row after row of workbenches and desks in what essentially looked to be an oversized Stable atrium, minus the flora that those rooms commonly held.

Behind me, the lavender unicorn let out a long, impressed, whistle, “what were they building down here?”

“What makes you think they were building anything?” I inquired, “maybe they just stored stuff here.”

She shook her head and started walking along the rows of benches, “building's what the MWT did during the war. Weapons, barding, vehicles, they built anything and everything that was used in the war,” she nodded at my revolver, “they're the ones that built that little cannon you wear on your hip,” she frowned for a moment as she levitated up a few tools from the nearby work station, “but they weren't building none of that here...”

“Why do you say that?”

“Wrong kind of tools,” she informed me, floating a couple of the tools in my direction. I could see now that they were a tiny little screwdriver and something that looked like a thin metal pick with a battery pack built into it, “no lathes for making barrels, no presses for forming metal plates. Just a lot of soldering irons and the like. They were building electronics.”

“Somepony had to make all those terminals,” I pointed out,” maybe this was it.”

The unicorn shook her head, “if that was all, then why hide this place? Ain't nothing special about terminals.”

“I'm not here to solve a fucking mystery,” I stated flatly, making my own way to one of the desks and looking through the contents. Mostly more tools like that ones Foxglove had shown me, “you seem to know what this stuff is,” somehow, “any of it valuable out there?”

“Only to very specific ponies,” the mare admitted, “and I don't know who any of them would be,” she looked around the large room, “if we can find a few of whatever they were building, that might fetch a decent price. Maybe they put finished projects in the back?”

We navigated our way towards the far end of the underground facility. Periodically, Foxglove would pause and examine the contents of a workstation. Each time, they proved to be nearly identical to what we'd seen previously. Whatever it was that they'd been building here, they'd been doing so in large quantities. At the far end of the expansive room were a few offices and a break room. One of the office doors bore the title of 'Project Lead', which was the one that Foxglove entered first.

“This should answer a few questions for us,” the unicorn announced. I followed her inside.

It was a cozy little office. Aside from the requisite desk and chair, there were a number of locked metal cabinets and even what looked to be a slightly smaller work station that resembled those littered throughout the rest of the facility. Upon the desk were a vast array of pictures and other personal objects. The one that caught my eye as being the most out of place was what looked to be a framed cape on the wall behind the desk. It was a tiny little red cape, sized for a smaller pony, emblazoned with a patched containing a rearing white filly on a blue background. I glanced at the pictures on the desk, noting the smiling faces of what I took to be the friends and family of whomever had once sat in this office.

Then I noticed something else that caught my eye. Something that seemed quite familiar. Set at the corner of the desk, was a small figurine. Unlike everything else in the room which had faded with the passage of time, the tiny little statue shimmered in the light of the office like it was brand new. I had in my possession a statuette which exhibited a very similar property. However, the example sitting on the desk was not of a demure yellow pegasus mare with a flowing pink mane and tail. This one depicted a rearing orange earth pony mare with a blond mane tied back beneath a brown cowpony hat. Curious, I picked up the statuette and examined the base.

'Be Strong.”

“Huh. I guess this pony was a fan of her Ministry Mare,” the sudden statement from the lavender unicorn coming from just behind me caused me to nearly drop the figurine I was looking at. I glared back at the mare, then what she said penetrated through my annoyance.

“You know who this is?” I pointed at the rearing orange mare. It was news to me. I'd figured that it was just some generic pony figure.

“It's Applejack,” Foxglove stated matter-of-factually, “the Ministry Mare of the MWT. She would have been the mare ultimately in charge of this facility. Didn't think she's be the sort to make a statue of herself though. The head of the Ministry of Image, on the other hoof,” she added with a slight roll of her eyes, “she sounded like the kind who'd want her face on everypony's desk.”

My hoof went into my saddlebag and I quickly fished out the yellow pegasus mare I'd discovered years ago in the orphanage, “do you recognize this one?”

The unicorn blinked for a moment, obviously surprised at what I had just produced, “yeah, actually,” she peered more closely at the statue, seeming more surprised at the existence of the object at all, rather than at whom it was depicting, “that's Fluttershy. She was in charge of the Ministry of Peace. Where'd you find this?”

“An old orphanage in Seaddle,” I regarded the pair that I now held in my hooves.

I now had a real name for Yellow Bitch. Though, how likely I would ever be to use it remained to be seen. I never had found a buyer for her. Well, in all honesty, I hadn't looked. Strange how the fact that I had this statue never seemed to occur to me whenever I found myself negotiating with a merchant that might be interested in buying it. Probably had something to do with the way that the pony in my head looked at me whenever I thought about getting rid of it. Like she was afraid of what would become of me if I was out of her sight. What my psyche was trying to tell me with that, I had no clue.

Would my mind generate a little orange mute to go with this statue as well? I was actually kind of curious to find out. Get myself a little gauge of how much crazier I'd grown over the years. Yellow Bitch...er, Fluttershy seemed to like the idea of taking the Applejack statuette along with me. Whatever. I slipped them both into my bags, and waited. Wasn't sure what I was waiting for. Maybe for a little orange mare to step up inside my head and take a seat next to the three current residents. It didn't happen though.

Thankfully.

“I wonder if that means that there's a whole set of them?” the unicorn ventured, pensively.

“Don't care,” I said, turning to scan the rest of the office. It was then I noticed that the cabinets which had been closed when I entered were all now wide open. I blinked, and then looked at the unicorn. She smiled, and levitated up a glowing green bobby pin. I already knew that she was good with locks, so I guess that it shouldn't have really surprised me all that much. Though, she had been awfully quick and quite about it. I peered around her at the interiors, “anything valuable?”

“I think so,” Foxglove answered. The bobby pin floating beside her was replaced with...something. I had no idea what it was. A large diamond was set into a octagonal device with leather straps. It looked like it was meant to be worn somehow, but I had no idea what purpose it could serve. It certainly wasn't barding of any sort, not when it covered such a small surface area. Decorative clothing? The jewel was dazzling enough, but the rest of the contraption looked very utilitarian.

“What is it?”

“I'll admit I ain't a hundred percent on that,” Foxglove admitted, “but whatever it is, it needs a lot of power, and can hook up to a pipbuck,” her eyes darted to the device on my leg.

“I'm not putting that thing on.”

“Probably shouldn't,” the unicorn confirmed with an approving nod, “not until we know what it does at any rate. Besides, it doesn't have any power anyway, and I didn't seen any crystal packs laying around,” she pointed at a terminal on the desk, “I'm hoping there's something on there that tells us what this is.”

I stepped out of her way and let Foxglove get to work at the computer, seeing as how she obviously knew a lot more about them than I did. The lavender mare sat down in front of the computer and began to diligently tap at the console. My attention returned to the strange looking device that I was holding, but I didn't get long to ponder its purpose before I was interrupted by a white blur bursting through the door.

“Are you done here yet?!” the pegasus demanded in earnest, “come on, they're getting away!”

Foxglove and I stared in surprise at Windfall's interruption. The pegasus was panting, apparently having pushed herself to great speeds in her haste to find us. In her eyes burned a cold hatred that I'd rarely seen, even when she dealt with raiders and slavers.

“Who's getting away?”

“Who do you think?! The White Hooves!” Windfall exclaimed, exasperated, “I found them about half a mile from here, heading west. If we leave now we can track them until they make camp and then get them while they sleep. There're only about five of them. It'll be easy.

“But we need to leave as soon as possible!”

She'd found them? I inwardly groaned. Of course she would have found them. I knew that they couldn't have hit this place too long ago, and the pegasus could fly a lot faster that anypony could walk. I just hadn't known that any White Hooves were in the area when I'd sent her out to scout the area. They probably hadn't even noticed her. Who wandered around the Wasteland with their eyes skyward?

The pegasus was right too, we could every easily track them to wherever they made camp, and they'd be none the wiser. Take out the one pulling watch quiet enough, and we could slaughter the lot of them in their sleep. They'd have all of the weapons and valuables that should have been in the store above. The bulk of the payment that we'd been promised by Foxglove. It's not like this place was going to disappear the moment we left. Nothing would stop us from coming back afterward to go over it more thoroughly.

There was every reason in the world to do exactly what Windfall was proposing.

So how are you going to talk her out of it?

“We're not going after them,” I stated evenly.

“What?!” Windfall screamed in disbelief, “but they're right there! They have no idea anypony knows where they are, we can sneak right up and slaughter them!”

“I'm sorry, did you forget we already took on a job?” I glared at the pegasus, nodding my head in Foxglove's direction, “but you want to track White Hooves all day, ambush them in the night, and then spend another day coming back here? Throw just a little bit of sleep in there and you're looking at a three day delay. And that assuming everything goes perfectly. Which, considering one of us is still injured, it probably wouldn't.

“And what if things do go south?” I asked, pointedly, “we could leave Foxglove here on her own, promising that we'll be back; because everypony knows that you can trust perfect strangers that wander off in the middle of a job right after you pay them,” I noticed the unicorn smirk out of the corner of my eye. Even Windfall seemed to cringe a little, “do we want to bring her along though? Right into a fight with some of the most dangerous tribals this side of the Wasteland? Thing go bad, she could end up just getting captured by them. Great was to help our client, isn't it?”

I could see that the pegasus was looking a little less sure of her initial plan, so I continued to press into her, “you took this job on for us,” I pointed out once more, “which means that before we do anything else, we're going to see it through. If you wanted to spend our trip fucking over White Hooves and raiders, then maybe you shouldn't have roped us into a contract, hmm?

“I mean, we could renege and go after them anyway. I'm sure Foxglove wouldn't mind her new barding,” I glanced back at the unicorn.

“It's not so bad, actually,” she admitted.

“You'll owe me a new knife though,” I advised Windfall.

“Still want to go after them?”

For a long moment, the pegasus was silent. She looked between the two of us, and there was a time there where I thought she would call my bluff and chose her vengeance over her barding. Then Windfall let out an exasperated groan and fluttered back to the office door, “fine,” she seethed through clenched teeth. Just before she left earshot, I could hear her grumbling, “we never go after White Hooves...”

I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Every reason in the world to go after them, Whiplash whispered in my head, but what was your reason not to?

We didn't need the attention of the real Whiplash and the White Hooves.

Dead ponies tell no tales. Who would have known?

We have a client and contract.

You could care less about that unicorn, and you have your payment in hoof.

Foxglove has our collateral.

Windfall can get more barding later.

I don't need to justify myself to you, you bitch.

Is it really me you're justifying yourself to?

“Did you find anything yet?” I asked of the unicorn still seated at the desk.

“I found a few things,” Foxglove informed me, still tapping away at the keys, “meeting schedules, personal correspondence—this mare had some impressive connections, by the way, and, most importantly, some notes on that device you're holding.”

“So, what does it do?”

“It's a portable personal holographic matrix,” the mare stated with a grin, as though the announcement should have impressed me in and of itself. I merely blinked at her. Her smile fell and she added with a note of slight annoyance, “it can make you look like somepony else. Or even somezebra else, which I think was the original intent.”

“What?”

“According to the project notes on here, they were making a technological alternative to disguise spells, so that they wouldn't have to rely on only unicorn agents for their infiltration missions,” Foxglove explained, her eyes scanning the screen in front of her, “what you're holding is a prototype. When powered up and provided with images of the subject, it can make you look like anypony you want.

“However, apparently they ran into some problems.”

“What problems?”

“It don't last very long. Apparently it requires an immense amount of power that crystal packs just cant sustain for more than a few hours.”

“A few hours sounds like a long time to me.”

“Not when you're supposed to be an agent buried deep in zebra lands for weeks or months,” the unicorn pointed out. She tapped a few more buttons, “it looked like they couldn't find a reliable work-around for a portable power source so they scrapped the project...” her words trailed off, then her eyes widened, “and it was immediately picked up the day after the final report was submitted. They went into full-scale production...”

“What?” I stepped around to have a look at the screen and read the notes for myself, “why would they do that right after scrapping it?”

“I'm not...sure,” the unicorn admitted as she furiously tabbed through additional notes and personal entries. I noticed that each one was initialed 'BS'. Presumably the initials of whomever had written them. Then Foxglove arrived at a page and started reading furiously, “here we are. The project was dropped by the MWT...but was quickly picked up by the MoA who put in a massive order for a slightly altered version. Huh.”

“MoA?”

“The Ministry of Awesome,” the lavender mare supplied, “they were responsible for...well, a few things I guess. It's really hard to pin down what their role was exactly. They were pretty all over the place. It was like the whole ministry had an attention span problem,” she added as an aside before continuing with her elaboration of what the records indicated, “but, yeah, they ordered hundreds of those things; modified to not need crystal packs.”

“How were they going to power them?” I asked with a furrowed brow.

The unicorn shrugged, “it don't say, and it don't look like Babs asked. Guess they were just glad to have one of the ministries interested in their project.

“But, what I can tell you is that they did in fact complete the order and shipped it out. Then they took a couple weeks of vacation before starting on their next idea,” she sighed and pushed back from the desk, “and that entry was dated two days before the bombs fell,” the unicorn stared sadly at the screen, “at least they probably died with their families.”

“So, is this thing valuable then?”

Another shrug from the unicorn, “it could be. One of a kind device that allows a pony to look like somepony else for a few hours at a time? Provided they had a pipbuck and some images,” she amended with a nod of her head, “there has to be a pony out there willing to shell out a generous sack of caps for something like that, I'd say.”

“I suppose you're right,” in any case, the mare had indeed lived up to her side of the arrangement. It wasn't her fault that the White Hooves had beat us here, and I was the one who'd chosen not to go after them, “anything else down here you'd like to look at?”

“I have everything I need,” Foxglove said with a slight smile, “and now that you have the agreed-upon payment, shall we off to New Reino?”

My gaze returned to the contraption in my hooves, a frown on my lips. I had expected guns and ammo. Those I could reliably sell to just about any merchant in Neighvada. This thing would require searching for an interested buyer. But, the unicorn had made a fair point: it's uniqueness should help me negotiate a decent price for it when I found one.

Once upon a time, you would have shot her dead right now and gone about your business.

Steel Bit was right, and I'd be lying if there still wasn't that nagging temptation in the back of my mind. Kill the mare. Keep the payment. Do whatever I wanted once I reached New Reino.

You could even have a bit of fun with her before putting her down, Whiplash chimed in, flashing a hungry grin.

Yellow Bitch was looking concerned. She didn't need to be. Even though taking that course of action would have simplified my life immensely, it would have been very difficult to explain to Windfall. Talking my way out of that would not be nearly as simple as convincing the pegasus to forget about pursuing the White Hooves had been.

My attention returned to the lavender mare, “yeah.”

New Reino. The Republic considered it a 'lawless' city. Of course, that was just because it wasn't their law that ruled here. Order was kept by the casino barons and their personal guards. As I understood the politic of the town, the owners of the three major casinos: The Prancing Pony, The Lucky Bit, and Silver Shill's, set down a short list of mutually agreed upon laws which mostly amounted to no murdering or robbing. Other than that, as long as you didn't cross them or their business partners, it didn't much matter what somepony did in this town. The guards, little more than casino security, didn't get paid to butt into the business of others, so they weren't inclined to get very involved.

This made the city a little bit more dangerous than some place like Seaddle or Shady Saddles might be, but it also allowed somepony like me a bit more freedom when it came to conducting business. No taxes, no oversight, no contraband, I could buy and sell just about anything I needed here. Not to mention conducting other business.

“We'll need to pick out some things in order to pull this off,” Foxglove mused, casting her eyes around at the surrounding shops as we made our way down New Reino's main thoroughfare.

“Like what?” Windfall asked, “I thought I was just going to walk up to him, ask him for a tumble, and then drug him when we got to his room?”

Both I and the unicorn frowned, though not for exactly the same reasons. I was displeased with how lightly the pegasus was taking the whole thing. Tommyknocker wasn't just some Wasteland thug who pushed ponies around. He ran a full third of this city, not just a piddly little gang of ponies. You didn't get to where he was by being a moron. Foxglove seemed to be irked at how crudely the younger mare grasped the plan.

“You can't walk up and ask him,” the unicorn said through a sigh, “he has to come to you.”

“Why's that?”

“Because he's not an idiot.”

“You've seen him,” I chimed in, “do you think a bald fat tub of a stallion like him is batting the mares off with a stick?” I saw Windfall's grimace as she recalled what Tommyknocker looked like, “exactly. A cute little thing like you struts up and throws herself into his arms, he'll know something's up. Maybe not that you plan on drugging him or anything like that, but he'll suspect that you're still after something and he'll have his thugs throw you out. He needs to be the one to make the approach.”

“So, what? I just stand around where he can see me all night until he notices me?”

“Something like that,” Foxglove nodded, “but there's more to it. Like every stallion out there, Tommyknocker has certain tastes when it comes to his mares. The way they dress, how they act, what they drink, all those little subtle details that are sure to make him notice you. I know what each and every one of them is, and I'm going to teach them to you.

“But we'll need to pick up some things too: an evening dress, perfume, accessories, and the drugs of course.”

I cringed now. None of that sounded like it was going to be free, “how much will all of that cost?”

Foxglove smiled, “not much actually. Most of it I can borrow from the back rooms of the Lucky Bit. It's just the drugs I'll need to buy.”

“I assume you know where to go for those?”

“There are a few names I know to ask for.”

“Perfect,” I dug into my saddlebags and dug out a pouch of caps, holding them out to the mare, “this should be enough,” if not, then Windfall would be able to cover the difference. After all, this was her idea, “you two take care f the preparations. I have other business to attend to. We can meet up later behind the Lucky Bit.”

“Where are you going?” Windfall asked.

“Like I said: other business,” I turned and began walking away, leaving the pair of mares to their preparations.

New Reino reminded me a lot of Flank. Similar atmosphere. Under other circumstances, I'd have essentially moved into this city. Perhaps someday I still would. For now though, it was just another way-station that Windfall and I used in our Neighvada circuit of the Wasteland as we cut down red blips and amassed wealth. Well, I amassed it, the pegasus drank most of hers or pissed it away on pampering and cosmetic alterations to her armor. I doubted that her ambition to put away bits in an effort to one day open a ranch of her own would survive our next encounter with a well-stocked bar.

It hadn't been a week, and the young mare was already down to four bottles of her Special Reserve. The rarest liquor in the Wasteland, and she'd downed more of it herself in three days than most ponies would ever see in their lives. I'd often wondered how she avoided have exceptionally heinous hangovers with as much as she drank until I decided that in order to get a hang over, one was required to stop drinking long enough to actually sober up first.

As long as she could still shoot straight, her sobriety didn't really matter much to me though. It kept her mind foggy enough to be easily persuaded at least. No complaints from my end on that point.

I stepped through the doors of The Jewel Pit, one of the city's lesser casinos that was nominally independent of the three ponies that owned most of the rest of the city. I say 'nominally', because the owner was incensed to pay kickbacks in order to avoid being harassed by the private security of the others. There were a few little gambling establishments like that in New Reino. Most paid their patronage to one of the big three, throwing all of their support behind one pony. The Jewel Pit was a rare exception that had wrangled deals with all three, paying each a percentage of the casino's take each month.

It was one of the reasons that I chose it as the place to stash my wealth. Every once in a while, one of the big three would piss off the others, and the standard form of retaliation was to disrupt the businesses overseen by the offender. However, with the Jewel Pit, fucking them over to spite somepony would also mess with their own bottom line. It made it a relatively safe place to keep valuables, a fact the owner capitalized on.

“Mister Jackboot,” the olive mare sitting behind the reception desk greeted me as I strode in. A pair of burly stallions to either side of the door put their hooves out and I stopped in my tracks, “pleasure to see you again. Business or pleasure?”

“Depends,” I began as one of the guards set his horn aglow, a shimmering haze of blue light passing across my body from one end to the other. As it proceeded from my tail towards my head, my pistols and knives took on the blue glow. As they did, the other guard picked them off and placed them into a nearby cabinet, “are you one of the pleasures?”

The mare's smile remained, but soured slightly, “'fraid not.”

I knew she wasn't, and even if she was I wouldn't partake with that mark on my back. It was just fun to flirt sometimes, “then I guess it'll just have to be business. Shame, that,” the mare just grunted. The guards finished relieving me of my weapons and passed me a claim ticket to use to collect them when I left. I nodded and stepped deeper into the interior of the casino.

The Jewel Pit was less grand than any of the major gambling establishments of course. How could in not be at just over a quarter the size? Still, it had much the same atmosphere: dark, loud with the intermingling sounds of slot machines, singing, and cheering patrons. I bypassed all of it, heading for the vault. On my way, I was flagged over by a unicorn wearing a pin-striped suit from a bygone era.

“Jackboot!” called out Double Down, the pony that owned the Jewel Pit.

I put on a smile and turned to face the gray stallion, silently dreading whatever he was about to say. I just wanted to get my business done with and get back to the others. It wasn't that the casino owner was particularly aggravating to be around, far from it. He was actually the source of most of my work in and around the area, with a hoof pressed firmly to the pulse of New Reino. Having dealings with all three of the ponies in charge tended to the open those sorts of doors. However, as I was currently in the midst of a 'job' at the moment, I wasn't looking for other work. In fact, I was as ready to head back to Seaddle and sell of my stash of weapons as I was ever going to be.

Still, it wouldn't do to be rude to a pony that was a valuable source of information, “Double Trouble,” I responded with a chuckle as the unicorn trotted up, “should I start trembling now, or wait until you've finished tempting me with another one of your tasty bits of insider knowledge.”

“Oh, now that ain't fair, Jackie,” the unicorn said with an air of mock offense, “we both made out well on that drug job.”

“You made out well,” I rebutted, tapping my hoof on his chest accusingly, “I made out with a bullet in my rump.”

“-and a hefty sack of caps for your trouble.”

There had been that. The banter out of the way, I decided that it was best to find out what had prompted this meeting so that I could turn the offer down and get on with my business, “if this is about another job, I'm going to need to to take a rain check. Got myself a client already I'm afraid.”

“Actually no,” the unicorn said, which drew a surprised look from myself. Double Down rarely drummed up a conversation if there wasn't an angle involved, “I, uh...I was hoping to ask you about some rumors I'd been hearing recently. You get around more than most of the ponies I know, so I figure if anypony's seen anything, it'd be you.”

“Rumors?” The downside of being away from someplace for weeks or months at a time was that you tended to fall behind on current events.

“Ponies are talking about caravans going missing. Vanishing without a trace,” Double Down spoke in low tones, as though he were afraid somepony might overhear him and be spooked by the revelation. For my part, I frowned.

“Caravans go missing all the time,” I replied with a roll of my eyes, “ain't nothing new there. Horseapples, I came across a raider group on my way here that'd just knocked one over.

“Are you having me on, Double Dee?”

The unicorn shook his head, “I ain't talking about raiders,” he insisted, “it ain't the whole caravan that goes missing, just the ponies. The wagons and saddlebags and such, they all get left behind, but the ponies that owned them ain't ever seen or heard from again.”

Okay, admittedly, that did sound odd, “the stuff's still there?”

“Not touched,” Double Down confirmed, “cargo, weapons, personal effects, all present and accounted for. But the ponies...” he shrugged.

Leaving behind the cargo? Couldn't possibly be raiders or tribals, “critters?” they'd hardly have an interest in most traded goods."

“Doubtful. No blood. In most cases, there isn't even any sign of a fight. It's like they all just walked off into the Wasteland.”

“How many times has this happened?” I was still a bit skeptical. Double Down had started off by saying it was just a rumor after all. But still, even if it was all made up, a story like this would have had a purpose behind it, right? Where was the angle then? Who benefited from spreading around a story about mysteriously vanishing ponies?

“Hard to say,” the unicorn shrugged, “I think I've heard about three different incidents, but they might have all been the same depending on how many details the teller was getting wrong. It's all hearsay as far as I know. I've certainly never seen any of it,” Double Down never left New Reino, so he wouldn't have seen anything first-hoof.

“I just wanted to know if you've seen anything like that.”

I shook my head, “can't say that I have.”

The gray stallion nodded, “just wondering. Thanks though,” he patted me on the shoulder, “and feel free to come see me after you're down with your current client; I have a line on some choice jobs,” he grinned broadly, “very lucrative.”

“I'll think about it,” and I would. Once Windfall and I were down with Foxglove, we'd continue with our circuit and be back here in a few weeks. We said our goodbyes and parted ways. He went back to hobnobbing with his casino's patrons, and I finally made it to the vaults to make my deposit.

Foxglove was leaning idly against the back wall of The Lucky Bit when I arrived. Windfall was nowhere to be seen. I approached the lavender mare, “where's Windy?”

“Upstairs,” the mare nodded her head. My anxiety must have been fairly obvious, because the unicorn quickly followed her answer up with, “relax. I kept an eye on her from the back. Tommyknocker fell for it hook, line, and sinker. That filly of yours can put on a good coy act when she's a mind to. She was a little resistant about using one of her Special Reserve bottles for the drugs, but how could we not use one of them? If anything was going to seal the deal, it was going to be a bottle of that stuff.

“Where'd y'all find that stuff anyway?”

“Took it off some raiders,” I answered simply, my eyes scanning the windows above. I had no way of knowing which of them belonged to Tommyknocker, if any of them even did. Windfall was already up there? Horseapples. I had no way of seeing or listening to anything that was going on. No way of knowing if that pegasus was in trouble or not. What if things went wrong? What if Tommyknocker sensed that he was being drugged and called for his security ponies? What if Windfall couldn't get away?

I jerked as I felt a hoof touch my leg. I looked back down to see the unicorn mare regarding me with a reassuring smile, “relax,” she repeated, “she'll be fine.”

“How can you know that?” I demanded, my gaze returning to the row of windows, waiting for a sign of trouble that I wouldn't be able to do anything about.

“Because Windfall is a capable mare, and has everything going for her,” Foxglove replied. Then, after a moment of thought, she added, “and I might be listening to everything that's going on with her and Tommyknocker.”

That got my attention, “what? How?!” Then I mentally kicked myself. She was a unicorn. Of course she'd have some sort of spell that would let her-

“I bugged the room,” Foxglove said with a smile. She inclined her head, showing me a tiny little device nestled in her right ear.

“When did you...? Wasn't it risky for you to be walking around in there when you're supposed to be with those other ponies? What if Tommyknocked had seen you?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I planted listening devices in his room years ago! I just needed to grab an ear bud from the dressing room. He never goes back there, and most of the other mares are out working. I think one of them did notice me, but so what? I 'still work there', after all.”

“Why do you have his room bugged?”

“Because I'd been planning on getting together a whole bunch of that bastard's dirty little secrets and then using them to either blackmail Tommyknocker himself, or just sell them to one of the others so that they could use the information to ruin him.

“But now, seeing as how that fuck done tried to sell me into slavery, I'm just going to kill him,” a dark glint flashed in the unicorn's eyes, “what a waste. Do you know how hard it is to put together a recording device using a hairpin and paper clips as tools? I'd have killed a pony for the sort of setup they had in that MWT bunker we found the other day. Would have been able to do the work in hours instead of weeks...”

I blinked, “wait...you built this stuff?” I leaned in to get a better look at the device in the unicorn's ear. Upon closer inspection, I found that most of it looked to have been fashioned from a bobby pin and part of a thimble. Huh. I wondered what she'd used to make the part that actually did the listening.

“Of course,” Foxglove replied matter-of-factually, “it's what I used to do for a living.”

“And how does one go from building stuff like this to being somepony's debt payment?” I inquired with a frown. There was a lot about this mare's past that I was keen to learn. She was very out of place in the Wasteland. She just knew too damn much that she had no business knowing.

The lavender mare grimaced, “it's a long story.”

“We seem to have time,” I pointed out, “and Windfall is risking a lot to help you out.”

The mare suddenly put her hoof to the ear with the little metal device in it. She said nothing for a few seconds, but before I could become concerned about what she was listening to, a satisfied smile spread across her lips. She looked back at me, “not hardly. We might want to step aside,” she guided me a few steps back, her eyes focused on one of the windows.

“Lookout,” a familiar voice called down from above, “here comes Tom!”

A moment later, I saw a blue bulge role up over a windowsill and plummet to the ground below, not far from where the unicorn and I had been standing only a few seconds ago. The heavy, sickening, THWUMP! Of Tommyknocker's unconscious body hitting the ground made me recoil. That had not sounded like it had been very pleasant at all. I idly wondered just how many of the fat stallion's bones had been shattered by the fall. Windfall fluttered down beside me.

“That is one heavy son-of-a-bitch,” the pegasus huffed.

I turned to berate the white mare for her reckless act, but found myself without words as I caught sight of her. Windfall was draped in crimson lace with golden trim around her neck and shoulders. The shear fabric flowed around her wings and over her hips. Her teal tail was braided with scarlet ribbons. Her blue eyes blinked at me, noticing my stare. Was she wearing eye shadow.

Both of us were suddenly drawn to look at where the bloated blue stallion had fallen by the wet sounds of my combat knife being repeatedly plunged into his unconscious form by a green telekinetic field. We stared in silent surprise as Foxglove set about her gory work, stabbing her former employer several dozen times. Each new stroke sent a stream of fresh blood splashing across both the mare's face and the nearby wall of the casino. What was somehow even more unsettling about the scene was that the only sounds were those of the knife entering and leaving Tommyknocker's body.

I hadn't expected that. I mean, I'd sort of known that Foxglove was going to kill the stallion, sure, but I had figured that she'd want to at least get him outside of the city first, not just do him in right on the spot. But, here we were.

Eventually, the unicorn decided that she was satisfied with her work, and stopped. She wasn't panting exactly from the effort, but I could hear the faint sounds of air escaping from clenched teeth. Barely contained rage being directed at the blue corpse.

Foxglove turned to face us, her lavender features awash with dripping blood. She levitated over a kerchief from Tommyknocker's vest pocket and used it to wipe away a fair bit of the blood, but a few streaks remained. She ttok a deep breath, and then a smile spread across her face, “well, that feels better.

“So, where are we off to next?”

I blinked. I closed the jaw that I had not realize I'd let go lax, and then stammered out a response, “'we'? Why do you think there's a 'we'? Contract's done. You're on your own.”

“Don't be silly,” the mare levitated up the knife and proceeded to wipe away the blood from it as well with the saturated swath of what had once been white fabric, “y'all could benefit from my talents.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes,” Foxglove assure us, “that little pull-tab getup you have worked out?” she nodded at Windfall, “that's all well and good, but I can do you one better: how'd you like to be able to control your guns with verbal commands? You could choose whether to fire one or both, how many rounds, even what types of rounds.

“And you,” her eyes went to me, “how'd you like to be able to shrug off magical energy fire with that armor of yours, and have it be even lighter than it is now?”

I blinked. We both did, and then we exchanged looks. Was this mare being serious? I was the one to speak though, “and you can build that sort of thing?”

“Oh, that and so much more, honey,” the mare stated with a broad grin.

“How?” I couldn't help but ask, “how does a whore know this sort of stuff? All of this stuff? Who are you?”

Her eyes flashed, “I ain't a 'whore' no more, thank you muchly,” she snarled, then her expression lightened once more, “and one-upon-a-time, I was, Foxglove, Senior Tech in charge of Stable 114's Custom Fabrications Department.

“You give me a enough scrap, and I'll knit you a robopony.”

A stable pony. That explained a lot a it. Not how she'd ended up here or what she'd been to Tommyknocker, but it certainly explained how she knew so much about Old World tech and the ministries. She'd had a Stable education. What would have driven her to the surface, I had not the slightest, but I was starting to warm to the idea of taking her with us...for a while. At least until she delivered on what she'd just promised. I looked back at Windfall, and could see immediately that the pegasus had already decided that she was eager to get her hooves on those weapon alterations that had been mentioned. Fine. It wouldn't hurt anything to have one more with us for a little while.

Seeming to sense the decision that had been reach, Foxglove asked once more, “so, like I said: where to next?”

Footnote: Level Up!
Perk Added: Explorer - Better chance of finding special places and ponies during random encounters.
Speech Skill: 50

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

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