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Fallout: Equestria - Anywhere but Here

by Stonershy

Chapters

Chapter 1 - Now Hiring

~~~|*/\*|~~~

 

What button do I push again?

 

This one here, silly. I’m not gonna show you again!

 

~~~|*/\*|~~~

 

My name is—

Wait... shit.

 

~~~|*/\*|~~~

 

Call me Double Tap.

Yeah, that sounds better.

Call me Double Tap. At Rita’s insistence, I’m going to document some of the fucked up dreams I’ve been having in the hope of making them stop, or at least figuring out why I’m having them. They’re not all the same dream, mind you, but some of them are similar enough that they may as well be. And uh… well, as long as I’m sitting here with this tape recorder, I may as well talk about myself. Maybe that will help too.

A few years back—I don’t really remember exactly when—completely broke and with a pistol in piss poor condition, I thought I would try my hoof at bodyguarding. At best, I’d make enough for another night of room and board. At the worst, I wouldn’t be in need of food or shelter, and another unremarkable pony would join the countless bodies scattered across the wasteland. It was as much a last ditch resort as it was an attempted suicide. I hadn’t even gotten my cutie mark yet, so I thought, what do I have to lose?

I should probably back up a bit, before I get into that.

My dad was a merchant trader, and I never met my mom.

You’ve got her eyes, he used to say. He was a funny guy; real fond of bad jokes, always positive, even though he was basically just a scavenger barely scraping together a living… I—

Sorry… where was I?

I spent my early years on the trail with him, going from settlement to settlement, watching him sell supplies and junk he picked up out in the wastes. When I got older, he let me try my hoof at selling some of the things he would pick up, but I wasn’t much good at it. It wasn’t a privileged childhood and things were pretty rough sometimes, but I was happy, and we got by. For a while, anyway.

When I was nearly a stallion, my flank still bare as the day I was born, we got separated by a band of raiders while traveling from Old Appaloosa to New Appaloosa. He told me to run, so… that’s what I did.

I never saw him again.

That’s how I ended up homeless. No money, no cutie mark, no family. I used to think that I was the reason I had never met my mom. That she hated me, and didn’t want to see me. I guess a lot of the folks at New Appaloosa felt the same way as her. None of them tried to take me in.

Well, that isn’t true. There was this one lady who offered to let me to spend a night in her shop once or twice, but I have a bit of a problem taking things that aren’t mine, so… that didn’t go too well.

I was young, but I was old enough to work, and there was plenty of work around New Appleoosa. Problem was, nothing really clicked. I wasn’t good at selling things, building things, or fixing things. I wasn’t even good at getting ponies drunk and taking their caps. Doing odd jobs barely got me by, and I was in a really dark place.

One night, maybe a year after my dad and I got split up, I took a busted up pistol off of one of the raider corpses I was moving around earlier that day, and decided it was all or nothing. There was a trader moving out the next morning. I covered up my flanks, asked if he was hiring protection, and that was that.

The trip started out pretty uneventfully. Just me, a traveling merchant, and a pair of pack brahmin. It was dry, and hot, and boring. I was surprised how much I had missed that... nostalgic, almost. The first two didn’t change, but not long after we reached what I was told was the halfway point, trouble found us. I should probably mention that until that point, I had never actually fired a gun before. I sure didn’t tell that to the pony I was protecting, but you could say it was a bit of a concern in the back of my mind. Shooting is simple though, right? Just point and squeeze.

I un-holstered that beat up pistol with my magic real slow like as small group of raiders came at us. If they had been using guns, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here making this recording. Still, even with the firepower on my side, I didn’t think I had the advantage. The merchant cowered between his brahmin, and demanded to know why I wasn’t shooting. I asked myself that same question as a grey mare with a knife between her teeth came within a few paces of me.

Point and squeeze, I told myself.

When that knife wielding mare was close enough that I could feel the heat snorting out of her nostrils, I lashed at her with the pistol, swinging it from my side and pressing it to the side of her head. I think she knew she was dead before I had even pulled the trigger. The sound of gunfire wasn’t new to me, but at point blank, it was loud and visceral. I was too stunned by what I had done to really flinch as blood spattered back at me, her body crumpling against mine as her momentum carried.

The pistol fell out of my levitation as her corpse knocked me onto my haunches, but that didn’t matter. I was focusing on the knife as it tumbled from her mouth. I pulled it out of the air, turning it over as I lay beneath limp dead weight. The second raider was close enough for me to see the whites of his eyes. I saw the same crazy, shit-kicker grin in that raider that I saw in the ones that took my dad from me. I wanted to carve it right off of his fucking face. Without even realizing it, the knife followed my line of sight. It spiraled, glimmering in the sun until it sank to the hilt in the softness of his eye socket. He tumbled head over hooves into the dust.

The third raider hesitated. He was just starting to turn when I spotted my pistol on the ground. He had the same thought, diving toward it. Being a unicorn, I had much better reach. The slide kicked back, an empty casing bouncing against his foreleg as I punched a hole in his skull, chin first.

I’m not sure how long I lay there, under a rapidly cooling and lifeless body. I had never taken a life before, and then, in less than a minute, I had taken three without getting so much as a scratch. I never really thought of myself as lucky until then, but then I stopped to think about it. I had escaped certain death before, and my first time in combat, I took down three ponies with no idea what I was doing.

It felt good. I wished that the merchant cowering between his brahmin was my dad, that the raiders were the same bunch that destroyed what little semblance of a life I had… But I knew that would never be true. I never lied to myself. I knew my dad was dead. I could only assume my mom was long dead as well.

The feeling of satisfaction faded, and I wanted more. I wanted to see how far my luck could take me. I wanted to make the wasteland run red with blood. I could already see that protecting caravans wasn’t going to give me that. I didn’t care about being virtuous, or making a difference in the wastes. I wanted revenge. I wanted to kill.

I came away from my first taste of combat with more than just a feeling of purpose. Something I had stopped caring about long before that point. Later that day, I noticed that something had appeared on my flanks; a pair of dice. Snake eyes. I didn’t get it then, but it makes more sense to me now, I guess. I had made a gamble with my life, and I came out on top. Rolling a two is supposed to mean bad luck, though, so…

Yeah, it has something to do with luck. Maybe I give everyone around me bad luck?

Anyway… yeah? What’s up?

 

Oh! Don’t mind me. I didn’t know you were—

~~~|*/\*|~~~

Chapter One – Now Hiring

|[o8- ]|[ /_\ ]|[BAR]|

 

The whiskey mingled with the dash already coursing through Double Tap’s bloodstream, speeding up his perception of time enough that everything played out at close to normal speed. Without the whiskey to slow him down, words could drag on for agonizing amounts of time, and even the shortest conversations could last seemingly forever. He was in the sweet spot, though, and that meant his night was only just beginning.

 

“I think Red Eye is alright!” he announced to the entirety of the Crystal Ball Lounge. “I’m sure he had a perfectly good reason to put his soldiers out in front of the place!”

 

The other ponies at the bar had learned to ignore Tap when he got chatty, and the bar keeper refused to throw him out because his companion was a very generous tipper. Of course, he was too drunk and high to realize that he was taking advantage of his bottle-cap-currency based immunity.

 

“And you know what else?” The bottle floated to his lips, spilling slightly as he tipped it toward the back of his throat. “Fuck DJ Ponethree! What has he ever done for the wasteland? Red Eye has a whole fucking city! He gets shit done, while this smug asshole just sits on his ass in a recording booth all day!”

 

Grinning widely, Tap swung around on the bar stool, sweeping the room in search of supporters. He found none, though he did notice a unicorn with a wild blue mane getting up from the end of the bar, shooting a glare at him as she silently trotted out of the room.

 

“Maybe if you fuckers willingly supported him,” Tap called after her, “he wouldn’t need slaves!”

 

The little griffon next to the swaggering unicorn giggled as she looked up at him, putting a clawful of bottle-caps down on the counter. The bar keeper sighed and raked them in.

 

“Why don’t you talk about something else, hmm?” The gold of her irises sparkled through his haze of intoxication, but the glowing red LED of her bomb collar hurt to look at. She smiled around her beak, brows arched under the rims of her blast goggles. “Oh! Actually!”

 

She put her talons on the counter, her PipBuck swinging loosely on her wrist as she leaned closer to the troubled looking mare on the other side. “Have you heard any good gossip lately? Maaaaybe about the Ministry Mares? Any new details? Anything at all?”

 

The barkeeper furrowed her brow. “Please stop asking me about those damned Ministry Mares, Rita. You know I don’t buy into any of that shit.”

 

“But the Ministry Mares are— They’re so—” Rita paused. Tap could just imagine the gears spinning in her head as she tried to form a complete sentence. “Anyone will tell you that they’re an important part of Equestrian History! As important as the princesses! In fact—”

 

Double Tap had learned to ignore Paharita when she got chatty. She had barely even touched her martini, the tiny umbrella still balancing against the rim of the glass, and already she was rambling on about a bunch of ponies that had died more than two hundred years before she was even born. Completely irrelevant. He took comfort in the fact that, at the very least, she wasn’t rambling about the Ministry Mares in slow motion. That was the worst.

 

A bottle on the shelf began to glow as Tap reached for it with his levitation, shakily floating it toward himself. Instead of looking at him, the barkeeper looked to Rita expectantly. The little griffon smiled and set down another clawful of caps, then went right back to clicking her beak.

 

There was a glint of excitement in the barkeeper’s eye as Tap briefly slouched forward, dissipating immediately when he grinned up at her. “And another thing!”

 

She slapped a forehoof across her face. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

 

“I’ve listened to his speeches and that stallion has a plan! He knows what the fuck he’s doing, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for DJ Ponethree!” He propped himself up on the bar, giving the barkeeper his full attention. “Once he gets everything up and running, he won’t need slaves! He’s going to fix the wasteland! All that other asshole does is play depressing, shitty old records about how fucked up everything is! Now you tell me, who’s doing a better job rebuilding society?!”

 

Without so much as looking at Rita, or the counter, the barkeeper reached out to collect yet another offering of caps.

A hoof gently clapped on Tap's shoulder not long after that. Had he been in any condition other than his drug and liquor induced zen, he would have fed that hoof to its owner. As it was, he just glared back at the nervous security guard it was attached to, the pony in question looking up from under his sweat beaded brow.

"Excuse me," the earth pony coughed. "We've been getting a number of complaints about, uh... disorderly behavior." The guard laughed nervously. Tap ran his tongue over his teeth. "And some harassment. Now, I know you've done a lot of work for us in the past and you've been very discreet about dealing with," he lowered his voice to a whisper, "internal conflicts." He paused, rubbing his forehead with a fetlock. "But if you could perhaps—"

Tap's vision shifted back into focus, revealing only one guard instead of the imagined six. He looped a foreleg into the collar of the trembling pony's vest and yanked him forward.

"Fuck. Off." Tap said simply and clearly, making sure to get some saliva on the pony's face.

"Fair enough," the guard squeaked.

Tap removed his hoof, and the pony promptly dropped back onto his haunches. The scarred unicorn turned back to the bar, not even bothering to watch the guard leave.

 

Half way through what he counted as his third bottle of whiskey, Tap started to black out for real. This was only another step on the way to having an eventful night. Tap had even made something of a game of trying to guess what had happened between patches of lucidity. After trying to figure it out, and hopefully not before slipping into another dark spot, he would check his answer by asking Rita to fill him in. His perception was attuned enough that, even while severely inebriated, he was usually at least half right.

 

He came back around just in time to hear Rita wrapping up. “…posters, personal effects, autobiographies, memory orbs, rumors of possible descendants, or remains. I think that’s about it!”

 

The bartender wasn’t even looking at her anymore. He thought she was nodding along for a moment, until he realized she was softly banging her head against the liquor cabinet. Another customer got to their hooves and stormed out of the bar, which of course meant more caps.

While Tap had his eyes on the door, he spotted a mare in some kind of robe slowly making her way into the bar. She seated herself beside Rita just before he slipped into darkness. His vision returned seemingly moments later, getting a good view of the back of Paharita’s head, the strap of her goggles overlapped by some of her feathers. She was speaking in hushed tones to the mare in the robe.

 

“…come highly regarded. Judging by your record,” the robed mare added, “I think that’s entirely deserved. This won’t be easy, though. I’m letting you know that up front. That’s why we’re prepared to pay handsomely for—”

 

Everything went black again. They were discussing a contract. That was fairly normal. Both he and Rita were hardly discreet about their profession. If ponies should need their services, the pair of them could be found after sundown at the Crystal Ball Lounge in Manehattan's own Tenpony Tower. They had yet to let a job go unfinished, and business had been pretty good as a result.

Good enough to afford a room in Tenpony Tower, in fact. Double Tap wasn’t particularly fond of Tenpony, and most of the residents of Tenpony weren’t particularly fond of him, but it was hard to argue against staying somewhere with hot, running water that didn’t register any clicks on a geiger counter. Since it bore one of the closest resemblances to civilization in the wasteland, Tenpony was also a major trading hub. It made sense to use the place as a safe location to discuss business with the kinds of clients that had the money to make a contract worthwhile.

 

Light and color bled back into his vision as his hearing returned.

 

“…so excited!” Paharita squawked, bobbing in her seat, the stool squeaking under her. “You can count on us, we’ll make sure the job gets done! Can we keep that folder though? We’re going to need to do a lot of planning to do this properly, considering that— Wow, I can’t believe we’re really going to do this!” She spun around, her eyes all lit up with excitement. Despite that, she spoke in a near whisper as she leaned closer to the inebriated unicorn. “Hey! We just got hired to—”

 

Even though he slipped out of consciousness again, there was no doubt in his mind that Rita had just sealed the deal, and that there would be a lot of money coming their way when the job was done. The real question was who? Double Tap had killed everything from debtors to gang leaders to vigilantes to slavers to nut jobs holed up in an alley rigged with megaspells. There was nothing he couldn’t kill with ample planning, the right equipment, and some luck. The prospect of a challenge was actually exciting. He had to go back to doing protection jobs during a dry spell the previous winter, and if a challenge meant extra money to keep him from having to stoop that low, he was all for it.

 

The world slid back into focus just in time for him to watch the robed mare slowly trot out of the bar. Paharita was looking up at him, grinning as wide as she could with a beak in the middle of her face.

 

“Ohhh, this is going to be so great! I can’t wait to get started!” The griffon wrapped her claw around the stem of her martini glass, knocking it back in one gulp. She winced, then giggled, depositing two clawfuls of caps on the counter. “Goodnight Foam! See you later!”

 

“Yeah.” muttered the barkeeper, eyeing the swaying unicorn as he grabbed another bottle off the shelf without permission.

 

The floor rolled under Tap’s hooves as he slowly made his way to the exit, Rita practically hanging off of him as the alcohol went straight to her head. He grinned as she idly nibbled the side of his neck, her beak tickling as much as it pinched. Other residents cleared out of his path as he swaggered through the hall to the elevator, his ears buzzing, his sheath feeling fantastic every time he took a step or Paharita brushed against him.

 

They hadn’t even reached the elevator when she started kissing him. She really can’t hold her liquor, he thought, pressing to the corner of her mouth where her beak stopped and her lips started. Kissing a griffon had been weird to him at one point, but now it was just another staple of a good night. She buried her beak in the side of his neck again, cooing softly as she unfolded her wings into the passengers standing on the other side of the elevator.

 

The inconvenienced ponies stayed silent, or as close to silent as their dignity would allow. Tap’s reputation branded him as a pony not to be confronted directly. Even as Paharita’s wings repeatedly slapped and prodded the fancy residents across from them, the most he could hear was muttering under breath. He snickered when, just as the doors opened, she knocked the monocle clean off a stuffy looking stallion. Rita cleared her throat, folding up her wings as she stepped un-apologetically out of the elevator.

 

As Tap followed her, he heard someone grumble after him. “Yeah,” he spat, “you can all get on my dick!” He caught a glimpse of their outrage just before the elevator doors shut behind him.

 

Walking in a straight line was an ability Tap had left behind at the bar. He fumbled with the bottle of whiskey he had grabbed on the way out. When he tried to unscrew the cap, a spark erupted from the fracture in his horn with a sharp pop, and he cracked the neck right off the bottle. He looked down at the two pieces of whiskey bottle floating precariously in front of him, frowning. Rita started laughing.

 

“Not funny!” he snorted.

 

When he looked up, he found himself with a perfect view of prime griffon ass. Her tail waved slowly through the air as she swayed her hips, fluttering her wings and grinning back at him.

 

“Come on, silly; we haven’t got all night!”

 

That was all the convincing he needed. He tossed the remains of the bottle over his withers, the shatter of glass echoing down the hall as he drunkenly pranced toward her. He had gone from tingly to rock hard by the time he had her up against the door.

 

“Oh jeeze,” she groaned, squirming back against him, feathers tickling every inch of his underside. “Let me unlock the thing at least!”

 

He had just started to move his hips against dusting feathers and the feline haunches below them when the door swung open, Paharita giving an excited, trilling chirp as they fell forward onto the floor. Still half laughing, half chirping, she tried to crawl out from under him, tickling his sides as she fluttered her wings. There was no escaping, however. Tap could feel the heat between her hind legs. He snorted as he missed his mark, grinding against her belly and her left thigh instead of driving home.

 

“Now come on!” The tuft on the end of her tail made him shiver and throb as she coiled it around his middle, trying in vain to restrain him. “They said they would fine us if we leave the door open again!”

 

“Don’t care,” he grunted.

 

On Tap’s second attempt, he plunged deep inside her, shuddering as she immediately started to milk him for all he was worth. Even though she had stopped trying to crawl, she attempted to continue her campaign to close the door. Her words became little more than a series of pleasant gasps and high pitched warbling as he put his back into it, stuffing as much of his cock into her as her body would allow.

 

The room began to spin, everything fading to black. Right on schedule, as far as Tap was concerned.

 

He came to on the bed, on his back, with Rita straddling him; hunched forward with her talons digging into his forelegs, keeping them spread as she bounced against his middle. She had shed her clothing at some point, and judging by the feel of her fur and feathers against his skin, so had he. Her ass wetly slapped his inner thighs every time she came down. He couldn’t see her face, but he had a pretty good view of her neck, nuzzling into her sweaty plumage as he felt her beak on the tip of his ear.

 

The little griffon was just starting to lock up, trembling, letting go of his sore ears as she began to trill between gasps. He gushed like a Sparkle Cola bottle on a rattling generator as her warm, wet cunt turned into a vice. A thick white slurry slowly oozed down his cock toward his crotch as the thrusting died down. After a minute, their rigid forms slowly melted. She rolled forward, talons gently stroking the lightly bleeding claw marks in his forelegs, eyes half lidded as she nuzzled into him, cooing softly.

 

Everything blurred and wavered as Tap tilted his head back, spying a lone bottle of whiskey on the shelf. He noticed the door was still open as he levitated the bottle across the room. Paharita bolted up and snatched it out of his magical grasp. He watched in horror as she twisted off the cap, taking a swig and coughing after the fact.

 

“Oi!”

 

Paharita sneered, waving it around so that he couldn’t wrap it in his levitation. “Maybe now you’ll let me close the door, mister hot to trot?”

 

There was a moment of lingering sensation as she slowly pulled herself off of him, mutual squeezing and pulsing drawing the motion out, until at last he felt his shaft cooling in the open. His brain sloshed as he turned to watch her. Her limp was much more noticeable when she was drunk, her left hind leg taking slightly shorter strides than her right. In his opinion, it just pronounced the sway of her hips that much more.

 

“Did you get a good look?” she mused after the dry click of the door. He nodded, and she smiled, gazing fondly back at him from under her eyelids. “Ready for round two?”

 

“Come and get it,” he slurred.

 

His final thought for the evening, as she prowled toward him with her wings spread, was something along the lines of she’s got a lot of fuck in her for such a small griffon.

 

Darkness followed.

 

No dreams.

 

Perfect.

|[o8- ]|[o8- ]|[o8- ]|

The following morning, Double Tap woke to a pair of fuzzy paws in his face.

Oh, this again.

He could feel a beak against his sheath, warm, soft puffs of air blowing against it in regular intervals, accompanied by a girly snore. This would hardly be the first time the little griffon had fallen asleep on top of him, probably mid blowjob. Without waking Paharita, Tap shifted around under her. The room was a bright blur, dusty columns of sickly light reaching through the curtains. The room was also a complete mess, and it looked like there had been a small fire at one point. Business as usual.

A soft murmur rose from beside him, which he found odd considering that Paharita had her face in his crotch. Turning toward the source, he found himself face to face with a stallion. Double Tap froze, eyes wide and teeth gritted. He relaxed again just a quickly.

Whatever. It was a familiar face, belonging to a stallion that worked at Tenpony’s clinic. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember the stallion’s name. Lifesprout? Vitalbloom? Ah, fuck… Rita, we talked about this shit.

Feeling much less affectionate, Tap slid out from under her, dumping her against the spunk stained sheets and their sleeping guest. He spent a moment leering at her, half expecting her to wake up, but she was still fast asleep even after a few soft bounces.

Paharita’s long, silky, peachy plumage was a mess, not that she ever did much with it besides brushing it to the left side of her face. The deep magenta she had died the tips of her plumage and the feathers around her eyes matched the color she had painted her talons and hind claws, making them stand out against her tawny fur. He shuddered and turned away as he remembered the fiasco he had gone through to get her that nail polish.

In actuality, the once lavish room in Tenpony was just a place to sleep with convenient proximity to places with food and drink. They didn’t actually keep anything of value in the tower, and treated it very poorly as a result. Empty bottles and inhalers lay scattered across the floor and over the dresser. Approaching the scorch mark occupying a corner of the room, he realized that at some point, they must have been trying to cook. That never ended well while sober, which is probably why they would attempt it while completely plastered.

A black cloud of a headache was quickly settling over Tap’s brain as he crossed to the bathroom, kicking empty bottles out of the way as he went. Rita’s flack jacket and oily, long-sleeved shirt lay in a heap just outside the door, not that they looked much different to Tap when she actually wore them. The outfit was almost comically oversized on her, as was most of her clothing. Just inside the bathroom, he spotted his ratty leather vest and equally weathered red sweater draped over the side of the bath tub. They smelled strongly of bile. He had seen mercenaries in similar getups; usually the adventurous types.

Tap perked up and glanced over his withers as a speaker kicked to life in the main room, pouring out a kick drum, an electric and bass guitar and an organ in funky, juicy harmony. Paharita had set an alarm on her PipBuck and was sleeping right through it. He shook his head, wincing as the motion set off a jolt of pain, and wrapped the cold water handle in his levitation.

Once the sink started flowing, he put his lips to the faucet and began to drink. Paharita had commented on how clean Tenpony’s water was once, and when he asked, instead of simply saying that there was no radiation, she went on a spiel about how great the purple Ministry Mare was for having the foresight to come up with a radiation purging system. Nearly everything in the tower led to a history lesson he never asked for. With his thirst quenched, he heaved a quiet sigh and spent a moment looking at himself in the mirror.

Red veins spiderwebbed across the whites of his eyes. The hazel pools of his irises dilated slowly as he traced the long, pink scars etched into his face. They stood out against his olive coat, much like the dozens more that spread out over his body, a reminder of his biggest mistake to date. A few dirty red locks of hair fell into his eyes. As Tap tossed his head to shift his mane, he realized that he couldn’t even remember the last time he had taken a comb to it. His horn jutted through the tangled mess, a chip and several radiating cracks marring the smooth, slow twist to the tip. He put on a big, fake grin, satisfied that he still had all his teeth, then turned back toward the main room.

Paharita lay alone on the bed. The clinic stallion had successfully slipped right out of the room while Tap had his back turned. He found that both admirable and worrying.

Am I getting rusty? Maybe it’s the hangover? He chewed a bit of dry skin off his lower lip. It’s been a little while since my last job, but it hasn’t been that long, has it?

Tap stopped at the dresser, putting the mouthpiece of a dash inhaler between his lips and huffing lightly. Everything slowed to a crawl for a few long moments, allowing him to clear his thoughts.

He let his eyes drift over his holstered pair of custom nine-millimeter pistols, dubbed Comedy and Comedy. The silencers were unscrewed for storage sake, since he wouldn’t be doing much shooting inside the tower, but it never hurt to anticipate the worst. He was able to smuggle knives and ammunition for those pistols in and out of Tenpony on a regular basis, after all, and they had still yet to catch him. If he could do it, that meant there were other ponies that could do the same. Grenades were a little trickier to sneak by security, but he had done that as well on occasion.

Paharita moaned softly behind him. He glanced to find her arching her back, falling limp against the mattress a moment later. She remained fast asleep, alarm still sounding. 

Tap snickered and turned back to the dresser, setting his sights on the folder next to his bandolier. Discolored manila bearing the Steel Ranger’s insignia glowed softly as he peeled it away from the contents. Inside was a series of documents and attached images that looked to have been pulled from security feeds. There were actually several different profiles inside the folder, each one focusing on a different pony or, in one particular instance, zebra.

Tap flipped back to the first page, skimming the document, pausing as his eyes drifted over the image stapled to it. It was almost like she was staring right back at him. It was fairly obvious which one was the highest priority, but looking at the picture, it just didn’t make sense.

This has to be a mistake, he mused to himself. How could such a tiny little pony be worth so much to the Steel Rangers? 

Even her name wasn’t threatening. He glanced back at the fuzzy picture, locking eyes with a still frame of the mare with a price on her head.

To no one in particular, he asked, “Who the fuck is Little Pip?”

|[(  ) ]|[  7 ]|[o8- ]|

Chapter 2 - Tools of the Trade

~~~|*/\*|~~~

I had found my calling at last. Not long after getting my mark, old enough to be considered an adult, I started my career in raider extermination. At night, I would roll through small raider camps, killing as quickly and quietly as I could. Once I had a pretty good feel for pistols, I started to experiment with my methods. I learned, real quick, that at range or with anything larger than a sub-machine gun, I was a lousy shot. On the other hoof, at close range, or point blank, nopony was faster than I was. I just have that twitch, I guess.

By selling off all the unusable or unnecessary gear I was looting off of the raiders I killed, I actually started saving up caps despite knowing fuck all about haggling. The caps I got off the raiders themselves were a nice bonus too.

Now, I’m not the strongest stallion by any means, but with the money I was making, I figured it couldn’t hurt to learn a little hoof to hoof if the situation ever called for it. Considering that speed and surprise were usually to my advantage, I assumed my lack of brute strength wouldn’t be too much of an issue. After I had paid for a few lessons and put them to use for silent takedowns, I realized that nine times out of ten, I would hit a vital spot on the first try. If I missed, well, I was in the habit of keeping sharp objects handy.

While the issue of strength also kept me from relying on blunt force, I figured out real quick that I was near surgical with a blade. On top of that, I had learned that I could sort of push objects with my levitation. Maybe shove is the better word? The point is, while my levitation isn’t that strong either, I can throw small things without too much difficulty. In the case of something like a knife, well, it works out pretty nicely.

Confidence came with experience, and eventually my confidence outpaced my intelligence. I had never backed down from a fight, and I thought that after a few months of upping the ante, I was ready for something bigger. That is exactly how, for the very first time, I got in over my head.

Ponyville was, as far as I knew, the biggest raider camp I could reach with relative ease. I was a little nervous on my way there, because I was going to try something totally new. Normally, I would wait a few hours before making my silent assault, memorizing patrols from a distance, waiting for gaps and slipups in watch duty. Because I wanted to test my luck, I was going to do a blind run. No scouting, no planning.

My first few kills went smoothly because I had the element of surprise. None of them were expecting somepony to just stroll right in. I nailed a stallion in the throat with a throwing knife as he exited a building, broke another stallion’s neck as I came up behind him, and point blanked a mare as she rounded a corner. I had made enough by selling crap I looted from raiders that I could afford a silencer, but noise wasn’t the issue. The mare I capped was the head of a patrol of four. Before she even hit the ground, a shotgun floated around the corner and started spraying.

I screamed. I had never been shot before. I had taken a few nasty cuts and bruises practicing and employing hoof to hoof or close quarters melee, but a bullet was a whole new kind of pain. My left side got peppered with buckshot, and as I stumbled out of the way, I almost blanked out right then and there. I’ve taken more than a few bullets since, but that first time... holy shit did that hurt. By some small miracle, I hung in there, and as luck would have it, I didn’t get hit anywhere vital or crippling. I should have turned and run, but I had yet to back down from a fight. I thought, I’m sure as hell not gonna start now.

So, pistol out, I sidestepped that still booming shotgun, whipped around the side of the building and put one right between the unicorn’s eyes. His friends had their guns out too. They unloaded into their dead friend as they tried to shoot me, and I tried as hard as I could to keep that dead unicorn floating high enough to give me some cover. One bullet clipped my right foreleg, another taking the tip of my right ear. I was getting a lot more lead than I thought I would, and it hurt like hell, and I was pissed about that, but I was still standing. I figured that meant luck was still on my side. I focused harder on the body I had been straining to hold, and hurled the bullet torn pony at the one to the left, floating my pistol to the one on the right and spattering his brains.

The one on the left was pinned under the bullet ridden corpse. Just barely a full grown stallion, maybe a year or two younger than me. There was fear in his eyes as I looked down at him. I recognized that fear. I was afraid once. I couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. Two casings clattered to the street.

Since I was the only one using a silenced weapon, the whole town was alert by then. There was shouting all around me. A bullet zipped by, nearly taking my head off. A distant crack sounded from an enormous tree right in the middle of Ponyville. I figured what was where I should head next.

I tried to stick to cover as I barreled toward the tree, killed a few more raiders on the way, mostly in passing, but I was starting to panic. Sometimes when I pulled the trigger, the bullet would miss its mark completely. One unicorn nearly pulled my gun out of my levitation. I was very quickly realizing that as much as I had luck to my advantage, there was much more to success than that. My tactics relied entirely on speed and stealth. When my enemies knew I was coming, and I was out in the open, I was practically helpless.

When I finally barged through the door set into that massive tree, I was limping. The sniper had nearly tagged me in the left knee, missing that crucial joint by just a few hairs. Even if my knee was in tact, it was excruciating enough to keep me from using the leg at all. On top of that, shallow gashes spread over my body where bullets had skimmed my flesh and left bleeding ruts, reminders of how many near misses I’d had. My luck was wearing thin, but I was still alive, and there was still a chance the situation might turn around. That’s what I was thinking, anyway, when I finally barged through the door set into that massive tree.

It wasn’t until that moment when I realized I had pushed my luck too far.

There were at least ten raiders in much better armor than the ones I had been dropping outside, all pointing their guns at me, all grinning that same sick sadistic, stupid fucking grin. I wanted to tear them apart with my teeth. I wanted to grind them into the fucking floor, but I knew I was finally shit out of luck. I couldn’t go back, because there were lots more outside. I couldn’t go forward because of the firing squad waiting to tear me to pieces. A whisper in the back of my mind told me, to the right.

I had barely noticed in my quick sweep of the grotesquely decorated room, but there was a stairwell to the right. The way was clear enough, so I threw myself as hard as I could. The world around me exploded into splinters and cracks of gunfire. And pain. I felt it ripping through me in all the worst places. All that luck I had been so confident about, gone. Bloodied and half dead, I hit the first step and kept going. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even think. I tumbled down into darkness.

My memory gets a little foggy around this part... I was hovering in and out of consciousness. I remember crawling through the darkness, hoping, praying for a way out. All I could think about were those chances I had to turn back, the warning signs that everything was going to shit. There were voices all around me. Wild screaming and laughing. I just kept crawling, trying to get away. The raiders must have been digging down there, because the next thing I remember is being in a tunnel. I think it was a tunnel, anyway. I could feel roots scraping against me,  loose earth getting in my cuts as I dragged myself across the floor. Saw something rectangle-ish ahead of me and thought it might have been a med-kit, but when I put my hooves on it...  

Just another book. What a punchline that was.

This is it, I told myself.

I gave up. Everything went dark.

And... that’s where my story should have ended, but somehow, it’s not. I have these weird flashes of… something… after surrendering to death. After seeing as much as I have... coming so close to death... It kinda makes you stop and think about what is and isn’t real. I can’t tell you if they’re more memories from that day, or some kind of hallucination.

What I can tell you... What I remember, I mean,  is that there was blood. Gallons and gallons of it, spattering everywhere, practically drowning me. There was screaming. Not taunting and threatening, like the raiders had been doing before. Screams of horror. Screams of pain. Pleading, even, only to be cut down mid sentence.

And there was laughter. One single voice cackling over the sound of slaughter… Shrill, blissful, and pure, like someone had just told the joke of a lifetime. I wanted to join in. I wanted to laugh, too, but I just didn’t have the strength.

I think...

I think that was the very first time Lady Luck smiled for me.

Next thing I remember is waking up in a bed. I recognized the room. I had woken up in New Appleoosa.

The nurse told me that I had been left at the front door, nearly dead from blood loss, but stable. There were more questions than answers. Even if the nurse couldn’t answer them, there were valuable lessons that I took away from the experience. I wasn’t going to plow ahead without extensive scouting beforehand, I sure as hell wasn’t going into a situation without a backup plan, and I definitely wasn’t going to continue a fight after I had lost the element of surprise.

Above all; the absolute, most important thing that I learned was that my luck has limits.

I waited until I was as well as I was going to get, dusted myself off, and got right back to work.

~~~|*/\*|~~~

Chapter Two – Tools of the Trade

|[ /_\ ]|[ /_\ ]|[(  ) ]|

“How can you not know?! I’m talking about her pretty much all the time!”

Paharita stepped past one of Red Eye’s soldiers, unfolding her wings as she was bathed in the pale light of day. She gave them a few quick passes with her beak before she took to the air. Their caps jingled as another soldier slipped them into his saddle bag, then motioned for them to move. Rita fluttered alongside Double Tap as they slowly distanced themselves from Tenpony Tower and the camps of Red Eye’s forces. Bribing the soldiers for passage had been on the pricey side, but it was much faster and easier than sneaking through. He briefly wondered if the Steel Ranger mare had snuck in and out, or if she had used a bribe as well.

The skeletal remains of Manehattan stretched out before them. He realized a moment later that Paharita expected him to say something in response.

“Yeah, well—”

“I mean, she’s the hero the wasteland needs! The hero the wasteland deserves!” Tap glanced up just in time to see her ball her talons, bringing them up under her beak. “And we’re the ones that are gonna kill her! We’re gonna be so famous! Oh, I have so many things I want to say to her before she dies!”

Tap did his best to suppress the wave of nausea rolling up his throat, unsure how much of it was the hangover and how much of it was genuine disgust. “Can we not talk about this? Normally your chipper bullshit doesn’t really bother me, but that’s honestly just a little bit disturbing.”

The little griffon huffed, upturning her beak. “If you listened to DJ Ponethree, you’d understand.”

“I’m fine like this, thanks.”

“And I thought you were a stone cold killer! Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts!”

An emaciated pony with open sores and sunken eyes barreled across broken slabs of concrete, growling and screeching unintelligibly. It had been a pony once, but that was a long time ago. Now it was nothing more than a mindless, ghoulish parody of who it used to be. Tap casually un-holstered and leveled one of his silenced pistols, quietly punching three holes in its face when it was just a few paces away. The feral ghoul tumbled lifelessly for a few moments before coming to a stop. He stepped over it without giving it a second glance.

“I usually don’t think. I plan. I mean…” Rita arched a brow as he glanced up at her again. “You know what I mean! I’m gonna do what we’re getting paid to do, I just think it’s a little bizarre that you’re fawning over the pony we’ve been hired to shoot to death. Is that so hard to understand?”

“I thought you didn’t think.” She grinned and stuck out her tongue.

“Get fucked, Rita,” he grumbled.

Several crumbling blocks from the tower, Paharita banked into a narrow side alley. Tap hesitated, remembering their conversation about making sure they weren’t being watched or followed before ducking into the workshop. He snorted, checking his immediate surroundings.

So it’s okay when you do it, huh?

As Rita huddled over the terminal at the end of the alley, he shrugged and followed her. The familiar rattle of the rolling steel door and the hum of its motor reverberated down the passage as he came up behind her. Double Tap knew the interior of this building well. Though, for all intents and purposes it belonged to Paharita, he considered her workshop to be his home. Within were all his possessions, from consumables to clothing.

There were two rooms, not counting the hatch to the basement. The larger, main room was where just about everything was set up. A fridge rested in the right corner, with a couch, a table, and a rug they had stolen from a recently gutted vault spread out in front of it, close to the right wall. To the left of that, several mismatched cabinets covered in empty glasses, bottles, bullet casings, and bits of scrapped electronics. Farther left was the door leading to the bathroom, small enough to lack a shower or bath tub, but large enough to make a noticeable subtraction from the room’s total open space. A mostly clean mattress with mostly clean sheets occupied the left corner, partially enclosed by a folding screen. A dresser and a slightly bullet-ridden wardrobe lined up with the left wall.

At the very center of the room, a tangle of wires and cables hung like vines, offering only glimpses of the place where Paharita did her actual work. A soft green glow bled out through the gaps. Several vices, a few benches, an array of tools, a cluttered chemistry set, a loading press, a pair of terminals, multiple types of charging docks, and a few small metal cabinets had all been carefully arranged around the support column at the heart of the makeshift chamber. Even though it was the source of all his customized weapons, ammunition, drugs and equipment, Double Tap felt uncomfortable standing in there for extended periods of time.

A vaguely pony shaped automaton waited for them on the other side of the door, a few bubbles rising through the thick pink fluid of its brain case as it lurched forward on treads. He could hear the others clanking about within as they assessed the situation. There was a lingering fear in the back of his mind that one day, when they opened the door, the robots would open fire.

The case, brain and all, flashed a brighter pink as the brain-bot saluted and began to speak. “Greetings, Empress Paharita! We have been anxiously awaiting your return!” The other robots inside quickly lined up on either side of the doorway, those with arms saluting as well. “How may we serve our Empress on this fine day?”

“You’ll all be pleased to know that I’ve signed on a new contract!” With a wide grin around her beak, she slowly strolled into the building, Tap at her side. “And you’ll never guess who I’ve been hired to kill!”

The robots that could nod did so, as if they hung on her ever word. Double Tap made for the refrigerator. “Please tell us, Empress!”

“Why, the hero of Equestria! Savior of the wasteland!” Rita’s childish glee brought her voice to a near squeal. A chorus of pre recorded and synthetic gasps filled the room. Tap buried his head in the fridge. “I’ve been hired to kill Pipsqueak herself! I can just imagine the headlines now! DJ Ponethree will be talking about me for years to come!”

He turned away from the fridge, the mouth of a beer bottle between his teeth, and watched as she pranced across her workshop.

“Okay, two things,” Tap announced after taking a swig. A deathly quiet fell over the room.

“You dare interrupt our Empress?!” Crackled several of them, the spritebot beeping and clicking aggressively.

“Oh, come the fuck on, Rita!” Tap snorted. “We talked about this!”

Paharita raised a talon into the air, and her mechanized followers were hushed. “Now now, he is the sword with which your Empress strikes. Speak your mind, humble assassin!”

It was Double Tap’s belief that one day, his blank, disbelieving stare would register with her, and she would act her age. It was also Tap’s belief that Red Eye could make it rain alcohol once his plans had come to fruition.

“Yeah… so, like I said, two things. One, we’re not just killing Littlepip. We’re also supposed to kill every pony and non pony in her en… entour…”

Paharita giggled. “Entourage?”

“Fuck you. Yes. Entourage. That’s, what, four additional targets, plus a phoenix? One of them is a Canterlot ghoul in Steel Ranger armor, and at least two of them can fuck us up from more than a block away.”

“Okay, and two?”

Tap levitated the beer back to his lips and took a swig. “Uh… I guess I combined one and two. That’s the gist of it anyway.”

“Mmkay,” Rita replied as she settled on the couch. One of the robots with multiple arms brought her a sparkle cola. “So you sneak up on them and shoot them! You do this all the time! They’ll never see it coming!”

“This is not going to be like our usual jobs! These are professionals. We don’t even have the right equipment to pull this off.” Rita lifted one of her talons, thumb up in the air, two scaly fingers extended. She repeatedly dropped her thumb against the extended fingers, grinning and nodding. Tap shook his head. “Steel Ranger armor, Rita. My pistols aren’t going to do much against that.”

“So, use grenades or something!”

“I don’t think grenades are going to do me much good when we’re taking on two unicorns. An EMP would deal with the one in power armor, but that still leaves five of them. Even if I’m using high explosives and they’re in close quarters, these are apparently some hardcore motherfuckers. I know that our primary target is the runty unicorn—”

Paharita leaned forward, brow furrowed. “Littlepip!”

“I know Littlepip is the one the Steel Rangers seem to be shitting themselves over, but Dark Elder Moon Night—”

She thumped the arm of the couch. “Star Paladin Steelhooves!”

“Fuck! Whatever!” Tap dropped his beer, frowning as it spilled across the floor while it rolled away. “He’s going to be a much bigger threat if we can’t kill them all in one go is the point I’m trying to make!”

“Okay, alright. Sheesh.” The little griffon leaned forward as one of the flying, spider-looking robots began to rub the back of her neck. Her eyes lidded slightly and Tap shivered anxiously. “Ooooh yeah, right there… So, what do you need to make this work, then?”

“Something to punch through armor. Do you think you could take an anti-machine rifle and make it…” He held up his forehooves, slowly bringing them closer together. “Smaller? More like a pistol?”

A stretch of silence followed, during which Paharita closed her eyes and tapped a talon against the side of her beak. Double Tap let his gaze wander, imagining all the robots giving him the robot equivalent of the stink eye. When she looked up, she grinned and pointed at him.

“I sure can!” Her grin faded as she let her talon drop. “But do we even have an anti-machine rifle around?”

Tap glanced over at the weapon rack occupying the wall to the right of the front door. “Uh…”

|[BAR]|[o’o ]|[BAR]|

“And you’re sure she’s got one?”

The barbed-wire-fenced perimeter of the Shattered Hoof Correctional Facility gradually came into view, with the former prison turned stronghold looming in the center. Tap spotted several marksmen in the various lookout towers spread around the yard, their scopes already trained on him and his companion. He proceeded calmly, no sudden movements and no magic. Tap knew long range engagements were not the sort he would walk away from.

“Oh yeah, totally!” Rita nodded energetically, flitting along beside him despite the fact that there were at least three crosshairs centered on her pretty little head. “She has to have a few of those lying around if she’s holding onto a place like that.”

“But I thought you hated dealing with the Talons.”

“Oh, I do!” She nodded again, maintaining her cheery grin. “I absolutely despise them!”

A dirty looking earth pony cocked a brow at them from the other side of the main gate. “What the fuck do you two want?”

Paharita touched down, straightened up and smiled. “Here to do business! We’d like to see your boss, pretty please!”

A few minutes of awkward silence passed as the guard discussed the request with what Tap imagined was his superior. Rita was a statue, maintaining her overly friendly smile. Finally, the rusted gate slowly rolled out of the way. The stallion snorted as Paharita gave a nod of thanks. Behind the fence, a prison yard full of ponies in ragged looking clothes with ragged looking guns. Low grade mercenaries. Cannon fodder. Tap had been there once. Now, he was usually on the other end of the gun, pulling the trigger.

Before entering the facility proper, and without warning, Rita grabbed the collar of Tap’s vest and pulled him in close. “Gawdyna and Pipsqueak are on very good terms,” she lowly growled, “so you don’t do any talking, got it? Not one word.”

“Fuck off,” he mumbled as he pushed her away.

Tap followed his feathered companion up a few flights of stairs and down a series of dusty halls, passing various other ponies and griffons in the process. While most of them eyed Tap suspiciously, some of them gave him nods of recognition. Vaguely familiar faces that he couldn’t put a name to after excessive use of dash and hard liquor. Paharita slowed as they came within sight of a doorway flanked by a pair of grizzled looking griffons, each dressed in armor bearing the Talon insignia. Their positions, expressions, and the gem powered energy rifles they brandished screamed “we’re protecting someone important.” The comparatively tiny griffon glanced back at Double Tap and put on a smile, her nerves betrayed by her twitching brow.

Beyond the doorway, a desk occupied by an older griffon, bearing quite the scar over her left eye. She reclined, talons behind her head, hind paws propped up on the desk, her good eye sweeping over them with a predatory keenness.

“So you’re Gawdyna, right?” Paharita visibly seized up as Tap spoke, shooting a deathly stare back at him. He ignored it.

The brow over her scar arched. “Well aren’t you clever. What makes you say that?”

“Why else would you be in the warden’s office?” He glanced back to Paharita. She almost looked like she was going to cry. “Unless you’re a poser, and the real Gawdyna is somewhere else.”

A grin spread around her beak. “And this must be your new errand boy.” Gawdyna’s paws slipped off of the desk, putting her talons in their place and leaning forward. “Paharita, aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Uh…” Paharita shuddered, coming out of what Tap assumed to be some sort of fear induced trance. “Uh-huh… This is—”

“Can we cut to the chase?” Tap looked over his withers, the guards at the door briefly, curiously peering into the room. “I need an anti-machine rifle. Rita says you have a few. How about it?”

Gawdyna propped her head up with the knuckles of her talons, just about leering down at Paharita. “Is that true? You need something of mine? You know that I don’t run a charity, Paharita; what will you give me in return?”

“We’ve got lots of caps!” Rita offered excitedly. “Really, we’ll be happy to pay you in full for it. It doesn’t even need to be in good condition!”

“You realize that you’d be taking a piece of my defense with you. Caps don’t defend against attackers.” Gawdyna paused, her gaze becoming distant for a moment. While she spaced out, Tap levitated a bottle of scotch off of her desk and slipped it into one of his pouches. “But, tell you what… There are much bigger things on my mind right now. I’ll let you buy what you need, if…” Gawd turned her gaze to Tap, her grin returning, “you do me a little favor first.”

Paharita seemed to wilt at that. “Oh... Of course! Whatever you like!”

“There’s a small time band of thugs that have been hitting the caravans I have contracts with. Like I said, there are bigger things on my plate, and I just don’t have the time or resources to deal with it myself.”

Tap rolled his eyes and sighed quietly. Here it fucking comes…

“That’s where you two come in.”

|[(  ) ]|[ /_\ ]|[  7 ]|

Double Tap edged closer to the crumbling brick wall in front of him, peeking over the top and scanning his surroundings. The sickly glow of the sky rapidly dimmed as the sun set. A small, dilapidated town spread out below, now the foundation for several sheds made of sheet metal and a recently used fire pit. The signs of life were all there, and provided Gawdyna’s information was sound, the gang had repeatedly made camp at this location. However, for the fourth hour in a row, there was still no sign of the thugs they had been “hired” to take out.

A light, papery sound flickered through the air behind him. Tap glanced over his wither at Rita, her beak buried in a comic book. She carried several on her for just such an occasion. Everything began to feel a little too fast. He searched out the pouch holding his dash inhalers and took a small hit, the world slowing down for several seconds before reaching a manageable speed.

“We’re getting the run around, aren’t we?”

“What?” Rita looked up from her comic book, meeting the stallion’s gaze

“We’re basically paying Gawdyna to kill these guys and buy her shitty gun.” He thumped a forehoof against his chest. “She should be paying us to kill these guys and give us the fucking gun for free.”

Rita puffed out her cheeks, scowling. “I told you not to talk, and you talked! Guess whose fault this is!” She pointed a talon, stabbing at the air in Tap’s direction. “Yours! Not mine!”

“You didn’t even try to negotiate with her, featherbrain! You just went all okie-dokie boss ma’am and accepted all her terms without complaint!”

“Yeah, because you cut to the chase! You can’t just drop a demand like that with her! You need to soften her up first, see if there’s a way to get mutual benefit!” Paharita ruffled her feathers, glancing down. “And… Gawd is kinda scary, okay?”

A distant, scuffing sound caught Tap’s attention. He turned, lifted a hoof, and cocked his ears forward as he shuffled up against the wall again. Rita nestled in against him a moment later, eyes wide as she surveyed the area. He could hear her talons clicking the buttons on her PipBuck without so much as glancing down at it, the motion something nearly instinctive to her.

“PipBuck says?” he whispered.

“I’m picking up six of them to the northwest. Confirm.”

Tap nodded, narrowing his eyes as his gaze swept over the landscape in the indicated direction. Steady movement.

“One unicorn, five earth ponies. Mid to light armor. One shotgun, one repeater rifle, additional small arms and edge weapons. I’ve got a good feeling. Run the numbers, if you please.” A few moments passed as he tracked his query. “Good odds?”

Paharita grinned in the corner of his vision. “Excellent odds.”

Tap gently tapped her on the shoulder. “Pull back. I’ll engage when they’re in range.”

“Go get ‘em,” she whispered, quietly slipping away.

Double Tap reviewed the information at his disposal as the six ponies approached the makeshift settlement. Half of them appeared to be lugging enormous saddle bags. Their laughter began to echo to his ears, along with snippets of conversation. One of the un-laden earth ponies started up the fire, the rest unceremoniously dropping their cargo. He watched them for several minutes as they settled in, darkness coming on fast. Only one of them acted as lookout, repeater rifle locked and loaded in his saddle, while the rest began to cook and drink. The other five were arranged in a near circle, eating out of cans. The lookout was far enough away that Tap would, in theory, be able to kill those around the camp fire without alerting him.

Tap closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He slipped over the side of the building, landing with a silent roll and stalking up to the crackling fire in the long, dancing shadows it cast, pistols out. The first two wouldn’t be an issue. The second pair was farther away, but would take a moment to register what had happened. The fifth, seated on the other side of the fire, would have the most time to react.

Tap readjusted and unloaded an alternating volley of lead into the fifth and farthest pony. His angle changed, pistols spreading before firing again. The closest set had been saved for last. Pistols nearly three and nine o’clock, he perforated them both before they could make any noise. He exchanged magazines, slipping the mostly empty pair into a pouch. Cocking silently, he returned to the shadows, creeping along a badly rotted wall.

The sudden silence had clearly spooked the lookout. Tap flattened against the wall as the pony cautiously trotted by, rolling out behind him and punching six holes in the back of his head.

-0-

Tap opened his eyes and grinned.

The world became a blur as he launched off of the ledge he and Rita had perched on, the wind whistling through his ears, blowing at his mane. It was a bit higher than he had assumed, but he stuck the landing and rolled forward, slinking on long, powerful strides. The dulled glow of his magic encircled the handles of his pistols, silencers screwed on, squeezing a grenade preemptively. His lips moved in silence, marking each target with a number, listening in as he came closer.

“Wait, wait, tell it again! Do the face, too!”

“And then the poor bastard was like, aaaa, please no!”

Laughter followed. They were gloating about their most recent heist. An old, familiar feeling snaked its way around Tap’s stomach. Like a tensed spring, his pistols snapped forward as he prowled up to the fire. The one directly across from him paused, meeting Tap’s cold stare in a split second of recognition. The assassin narrowed his eyes, lips curling into a grin.

His silencers chirped softly around streams of bullets, shallow geysers of blood erupting with every impact. Three of them were dead before the soft chime of shell casings on concrete began to ring out into the night. The last two barely got a glimpse of him, only just beginning to recoil in shock as the farthest pony toppled forward into the fire. The whites of his eyes lit up with dancing flame. Tap put their lights out, the thick, wet sound of entry and exit soothing his rage. Another, shorter shower of casings followed and faded, leaving Tap in near silence.

He spared a quick glance to the others, checking for movement and noting their stillness; the absence of their laughter. The cold slide of metal on metal graced his ears as he swapped magazines. The rotted wood wall and its long, flickering shadow sheltered him as he crept forward.

 

The lookout never came.

As the ambient light of the fire faded behind him, a spattering sound reached his ears. The lookout was relieving himself into a bush. His saddle, rifle and all, lay on a nearby rock. Tap holstered his pistols, unsheathing one of his throwing knives.

“They’re all dead,” he whispered.

The remaining earth pony flinched, then went very still as Tap prodded his wind-pipe with the tip of the knife.

Tap swallowed, his mouth going dry. “And I want to give you something to think about.”

“Wha—Uhhk!” Tap pushed the knife just a hair closer, digging in to the delicate flesh of his throat.

“Just fucking listen,” he growled, the distant glow of the fire flickering in his eyes. “That pony you robbed and killed? He probably had a family. Some foal, somewhere out there, is going to grow up full of emptiness and hatred because you took him away. Do you have foals?”

“N-no! So fucking what? Why should I give a damn about some kid?” The pony started to squirm, then went still again as Tap cut into him, just deep enough to draw a little blood. “S-shit… Look, the world is fucked, and it’s never going to get better! I was just doing what I had to for survival! You’d do the same thing if you were me!””

“So you killed somepony’s father because you think you didn’t have any other choice.” Tap stepped around the pony, staring deep into his eyes. “Well… my father was a merchant.” A smile broke across his lips. “Funny how karma works, isn’t it?”

“Fuck you!”

Tap’s horn flared. The knife plunged sideways, severing an artery into the lookout’s throat. Gagging, the lookout dropped to his knees.

“Look at me.” Tap lifted his head with a fetlock. “It’s not funny. None of this is.”

He could see the fear of death welling up in the dying stallion’s eyes, tears spattering the ground, joined by blood that gushed around the blade. Tap stared, watching his pupils slowly dilate, feeling his convulsions weaken as he drowned in his own blood. The spark faded from his eyes, and he went limp. Tap exhaled and wrenched the knife free, letting the stallion drop. He reached for a pistol, holding it against the stallion’s temple, and pulled the trigger twice.

“See you in hell, motherfucker.”

Tap cantered back to the fire and kicked a dead earth pony off of the slab of concrete he had been sitting on, claiming the seat and a can of beans for himself.

“All clear?” came a soft, feminine trill from behind.

“Yeah,” he replied around a mouthful, swallowing a moment later. “Come on down.”

Paharita swooped in less than a minute later, landing beside him and looking over the carnage up close. Pools of blood glimmered like liquid rubies in the light of the fire. At least two of them were missing large portions of their faces, not counting the one that had fallen into the fire. The rest of his body had immolated, but Tap had smelled worse. Rita giggled and settled in beside him.

“I figure we chow down while we’re here, then head back to Shattered Hoof.” He snorted, grinning. “Your Talon friend can go fuck herself if she thinks we’re waiting ‘till morning to let her know we completed our end of the deal.”

“What’s your rush, silly? It’s not like we’ve got a time limit to do the Ranger contract.”

“I’d rather get it done and over with. I don’t want to risk her adding even more ponies to her ent—” Tap shot a reflexive glance at Paharita. “Posse.”

Rita nodded, daintily lifting a bloody hoof and grabbing the can of ravioli under it. “Alright. It shouldn’t take too long to make the modifications to the anti-machine rifle.”

“Sounds good.” Tap paused, looking over the saddle bags laying not far from the fire. “What about all that swag there?”

She perked up, glancing toward the pile of stollen goods. “What about it?”

“Gawdyna didn’t say that we couldn’t keep whatever we find,” he casually remarked with his mouth full.

“Oh…” Paharita donned a wide grin. “No, she didn’t.”

|[  7 ]|[  7 ]|[  7 ]|

A few rays of dawn pierced the blanket of clouds over Equestria as the door to the workshop slowly rattled open. The only robots present were the sprite-bot, the brain-bot, and the one that awkwardly shambled around like an actual pony. Both of the flying, metal spiders and the enormous, rolling weapons platform of a security robot had departed to collect the illegitimate spoils of Gawdyna’s assignment. The anti-machine rifle, which was regrettably something they still had to pay for, was slung over Tap’s back.

He let it clatter to the floor after clearing the threshold and immediately went for the fridge.

Sleep was coming on fast, and he was determined to black out before it could catch up with him. The door rattled closed as he crossed the room to the bed, a bottle of whiskey already tilted back in his mouth. Paharita had withdrawn to her inner sanctuary, the soft sound of her tinkering nearly drowned out by the steady stream of griffon music screeching out of her stereo. The almost trot-like rhythm of bass and electric guitars reverberated off the walls, backed by a steady pounding of drums. An organ joined in. The wailing vocalist seemed to ignore the heavy rhythm entirely.

He vastly preferred her music to what usually flooded the radios of post-war Equestria.

Double Tap quickly did away with one bottle, setting it on a passing robot as he unscrewed the lid on the next. Alcohol was like water to him at this point. The room slowly began to undulate half way through the second bottle, downright rolling by the end of the third. His eyelids felt heavy, but he refused to stop until he completely blanked. To allow himself to dream was the worst thing he could do. The fluorescent glare of the lights became unbearable as alcohol saturated his brain. He closed his eyes, realizing his mistake too late.

When he opened his eyes, everything pulsed for a split second, as though the room were alive. A pair of eyes lingered in his vision as he returned to reality, sprawling against the bed. They floated in empty space, like an after-image from too bright a light, vanishing just as quickly.

Tap took a deep breath, fumbling for a dash inhaler. His magic wouldn’t condense, the inhaler barely moving as he tried to pull it toward him.

“Leave me alone…” he groaned.

Everything pulsed again, the silhouette of a mare lingering over him. Her grin sent chills down his spine, her eyes piercing right to his soul. She faded in the blink of an eye, leaving a feeling of nausea in her wake.

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

An empty bottle rolled off the bed as he curled up, shivering. The shatter of glass stung his ears, replaced by a dull humming as the brain-bot rolled close, vacuuming up the shards. It had no eyes, but he could feel it glaring at him, whispering the promise of murder.

When he felt hooves on the side of his neck, his skin prickled up defensively. There was no one there when he rolled over. He felt it again, this time with the warmth of breath against his ear.

“Knock Knock.”

His heart stopped.

The world went black.

|[    ]|[    ]|[    ]|

Light and sound overwhelmed his senses, flooding in from all sides. He blinked rapidly, feeling out of place.

The sun radiated high overhead, casting deep, moving shadows all around him. Healthy, swaying trees surrounded him nearly everywhere he looked. Something cool cushioned his hooves and brushed his legs. He looked down, greeted with the sight of lush, green undergrowth. He looked skyward again, and through the gaps in the leaves, he saw endless blue stretching out above him. A gentle breeze swirled through the trees, the sound of rustling leaves attempting to lull him into a state of calm. Instead, he felt anxiety, his every instinct commanding him to run from a world that seemed to be as alive as he was.

As he carefully scanned his surroundings, he noticed a path directly ahead of him. A clearing marked its end, rising into a gentle slope. An enormous willow tree grew from the highest point.

He approached cautiously, somehow feeling drawn to it. With a raised hoof, he reached out to touch the bark. It felt soft, even warm. It seemed strange for such a large tree to feel so new.

"What do you fear in the space between that which is and isn’t real? Do you think yourself cursed, with a monster in your shadow?"

Tap’s eyes widened. He turned toward the sound of the voice, greeted with a wicked smile.

"Or do you think yourself mad?" she hissed between her teeth, still grinning.

The horizon lit up all at once, burning with brilliant explosions that rivaled the intensity of the sun. Everywhere, pillars of smoke and fire reached into the sky, blackening it. From miles away in every direction, he could hear the screams of millions. Slowly, they were drowned out by harsh, shrill laughter.

|[    ]|[    ]|[    ]|

Semi-silence greeted Double Tap when he came around. He blinked away the haze, freezing as a toothy grin manifested before him. His vision continued to adjust, revealing the grin to be a grill set into the back of the sprite-bot’s hull. He groaned, burying his face in his fetlocks. The sound of a griffon at work had ceased.

A clinking on the far side of the room drew his attention. Paharita sat on the couch, wearing a pair of headphones, putting a fork and knife to a cut of badly burnt meat. The spider robots usually did the cooking, and they had apparently not returned yet.

Rita glanced up from her food and smiled as she noticed him, setting her plate aside and slipping over the edge of the couch. Bobbing her head back and forth to the rhythm only she could hear, her talons and back paws slid across the bunker floor, kicking up little clouds of dust. Her strange dance was only slightly hindered by her efforts to keep weight off her hind left, attempting to minimize her limp. Tap could only stare as she came shuffling toward him. The headphones followed her for several strides before being yanked back by their cord.

“Time is it?” he muttered.

“Afternoonish,” she replied cheerfully. “You were yelling a bunch in your sleep, so I put on headphones. I figured you were cranky and needed a nap.” She vanished in to the weave of cables.

He caught a few glimpses of her through the gaps as she strutted around her work space. A minute of clattering and jingling later, she emerged with what appeared, at first, to be a sawed off shotgun with a single, enormous barrel. He immediately recognized the components of the anti-machine rifle in the design, though they had been heavily modified.

Where there had been a barrel nearly half a pony in length, there was now just a nub of a muzzle extending beyond the forestock. The forestock itself now lacked the recess for a magazine, and the bolt had gone missing. Instead, the former rifle now relied on break action, the trigger end of the forestock carefully cut and filed, then bolted back together. The scope had been removed, but the bit trigger on the side of the gun remained.

Double Tap spent several moments admiring it before gently wrapping it in his levitation and floating it into his hooves. The latch released silently, the barrel and most of the forestock gliding silently along the range of the hinge pin. He peered down the breech, then examined the firing pin. A soft, satisfying click reached his ears as he delicately closed it, followed by a much drier sound as he pulled the trigger. He sat in silence for a full minute. Rita began to fidget.

“Do you like it?”

He glanced up at her, then back down at the newly crafted pistol in his hooves. “Have you fired it yet?”

“Nope! Saved you the honor!” Paharita looked down at the pistol for a moment. “Just uh…”

“What?”

She pointed at him, becoming deathly serious. “Don’t ever fire it by mouth.”

Tap cocked a brow. “Why?”

“The recoil will break your neck.” She redirected her pointing talon to her feathery throat, cocking her head to a full ninety-degree angle.

“Oh.”

Tap returned his attention to the pistol, wrapping it in his levitation and carefully lifting it until it hovered just below his jaw. His hooves clopped against the floor as he took a few steps toward the door, looking back at Paharita and smiling, motioning for her to follow. She donned a grin, skipping along beside him.

The dull buzz of afternoon heat and the distant crack of gunfire greeted them as they stepped outside.

“Need something to shoot,” he remarked, speaking as much to himself as to her.

Paharita shrugged, looking left and right as they reached the end of the alley. She began to excitedly poke him. When he cast a glance, he realized she was pointing.

A manticore was stomping around a few blocks away, the body of a pony speared through the torso and hanging by its stinger as it swiped at two much more lively ponies on the ground. Tap grinned and nodded, putting a hoof on Rita’s shoulder. She handed him a single bullet, big enough to act as a paper weight. He nudged the latch with his levitation, the barrel and forestock swinging forward. The bullet fit perfectly. With a flick, the pistol clicked shut. Rita slipped three more rounds into his vest pouches before plugging something into her PipBuck. A quick, sharp jolt sounded as she became little more than a barely visible blur at his side.

Taking a deep breath, Tap closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, playing it out in his mind. His eyes snapped open again as the sound of the chase came closer.

The manticore was chasing its prey right toward them. The two surviving ponies began to jump and shout, as if trying to get his attention. Tap nodded skyward, followed by an abrupt, airy rustle of feathers that slowly faded. He broke into a gallop, keeping the anti-machine pistol low. Their shouts changed from frenzied cries for help to outbursts of confusion.

“What’re you doin’?!”

“Run the other way, you crazy sonova bitch!”

Tap ignored them, plowing right between the ragged looking ponies as they kept going at full tilt. The manticore slowed down, as if unsure how to handle the charging unicorn. Tap lunged forward, coiled as all four hooves struck the ground, and launched to eye level with the lumbering creature. He eyed the stinger poised at the edge of his vision, a limp, bloodied pony still dangling from it. The heat and moisture of its breath curled against his face.

Point and squeeze.

Immediately, Tap knew that Rita had been very right about the severity of the recoil. The pistol flew right out of his levitation, very nearly hitting his right shoulder in the process. That didn’t really matter, however, registering as more of a footnote than anything. The sound it made was something akin to the splitting of a mountain. Where there had been the snarling face of a manticore just a blink of an eye ago, there was now a fine red mist in the center of a much more tangible assortment of wet chunks of flesh and bone. Tap sailed right through it, grinning as meat and spurts of blood collided with him thickly and audibly. He slid down the manticore’s back and landed behind it.

“Fucking.” He shook himself off, a shiver running through him. “Incredible.”

The mostly headless body of the manticore tumbled forward, shaking the ground on impact.

“Ritaaaaa! Hooooly shiiiit!” Tap pranced in place, his gaze sweeping the sky even though he knew she was invisible. “Did you see that?!”

“You were supposed to hold onto it!” Each word sounded closer, until he could feel the breeze stirred by her wings.

Tap cocked a brow, staring up at the spatial distortion that was Paharita. “I did hold onto it!”

“Well hold it tighter next time! The sound of fluttering stopped, and the pistol appeared on the ground a moment later. “It’s fragile…”

“It… needs a name.”

“Oh! Well you killed that manticore in one shot, right? Call it the One-Liner!”

“Yeah, but you made it for punching through armor.” Tap’s grin returned. “I think it should be called the Punchline.”

“That’s silly!” she squawked.

“So is yours!”

Tap felt her talons on his neck as he took a breath, the corner of her mouth against his lips before he could continue the argument. Even though she was invisible, he closed his eyes as he felt her tongue invade his mouth. It was a brief kiss, but satisfying all the same. 

The empty casing was still hot as he tucked it into one of his pouches. Instinctively, he tried to holster the pistol, realizing a moment later that there was nothing to holster it in. He stuffed the pistol into his vest instead, then turned and started back toward the workshop. The ponies that had been running from the manticore were now in the process of cutting it up and cooking chunks of it over a slowly growing fire. He lifted a skewered strip of meat off of the fire, floating it along next to him. They were too busy carving to notice.

“Looks a little rare,” he teased.

Rita cooed, and bite sized hunks of meat started vanishing before his very eyes.

|[ /_\ ]|[ /_\ ]|[ /_\ ]|

Chapter 3 - Employee Orientation

~~~|*/\*|~~~

I lost everything stumbling through Ponyville, but I wasn’t exactly starting from square one. My second time leaving New Appleoosa, I didn’t have fear in my heart or a feeling of uncertainty about what would happen next. I knew exactly what to do, and exactly where to start.

Don’t get me wrong, you don’t take a fall like I did and hit the ground galloping again. My first few outings were rough. Downright brutal, really. I was working with kitchen cutlery, my hooves and my horn against armed thugs. It honestly felt a little more difficult, too, like somehow the lawless fuckers I was cutting down were better prepared. I figured I was just a little off from coming within inches of my life, but who can really say?

About a month into it, I got my second wind. Newer, better guns and clothes that were much nicer than the rags I had been wearing around. Pockets still felt a little light as far as caps were concerned though, and that didn’t sit well with me. While the bands of raiders I found were maybe better equipped, it seemed like there were less of them in general, which made sense I guess. You shoot enough of a certain kind of animal, you’re going to thin the herd. Even so, I didn’t dare try for Ponyville again. Call it whatever you want, but even scouting the place from a distance gave me chills. A feeling like I was being watched right back.

It was discouraging, to say the least. After several nights of scouting the wastes and coming up with nothing to show for it, I started doing caravan escorts again, and eventually ended up protecting the train that ran between New and Old Appleoosa. It was boring, and I hated it, but caps are caps. Without raider hunting to take up my time, I spent my nights in bars drinking away my pay. It wasn’t unlivable, I guess, and I made a few good friends, but being a mercenary—a glorified body guard—it just didn’t suit me. I missed the thrill. I missed the adventure.

And then one night, just like that, adventure found me.

I was sitting at a bar in New Appleoosa, trying to forget the fact that I had tasted glory and lost it, when all the sudden I heard this commotion behind me. With the place being a bar and all, I figured it was just a drunken brawl at first. When I didn’t hear any bottles breaking or shots fired I realized it was something else.

When I turned around, I laid my eyes on the prettiest little griffon at the front door. Now, when I say little, I mean I thought she was just a kid at first since she was so small for a griffon. Mare sized, practically.

Second thing I noticed was that she had a slave collar on. I thought maybe she was an escaped slave, but the Appleoosas do business, so it wouldn’t make sense for an escapee to come right to the bar in the middle of town. Nopony else seemed to be in a hurry to corral her. I was familiar with New Appleoosa’s regulars at the time and I knew none of them had any slaves, so I figured maybe she belonged to someone who was passing through. Her left hind leg was wrapped in bandages just above the heel, stained a reddish pink.

I noticed that she had a PipBuck on her wrist, too, and that only made me more confused.

She didn’t seem to notice me, and I was sitting close enough to the door that when she took a few limping steps into the bar, I was basically behind her. I was pretty damn hammered at the time, but the gist of what she announced to everyone inside was that she needed help tracking someone down and killing them, and she was offering payment. The response was overwhelming. I went back to my drink, but kept an ear on her. She added that the ponies she was going after were basically raiders, and that there were a lot of them.

You could say that got my attention. But, uh...

Like I said, I was really, really drunk, and this was about four years ago, so I don’t remember exactly how this next part went.

Anyway.

I started to turn, but I blacked out a little in the process. When I came around again, there were only two ponies still making eye contact with her, instead of a room full of drunken stares: a young mare and an older stallion. The remaining volunteers looked at each other, then back at her, and then returned to what they had been doing. The griffon frowned and tapped the side of her beak, looking almost hurt as she began to pout.

She was just turning to leave when I reached her, looking a little surprised that I had come up behind her so suddenly. After the shock wore off, she started to look me over, cocking her head every so often. She didn’t seem hard or tough, like most of the griffons I had encountered in my travels. She seemed downright girly, which was kind of weird in the wasteland, even for a girl.

"You say something about killing for pay?" I asked, adding that I didn’t actually remember the rest, on account of blacking out.

With a shake of the head and a smile, she told me that I didn’t miss anything important, and offered to buy me a drink. I followed her to the bar, watching her haunches sway as she tried to keep her weight off her wounded hind leg. At the bar, she got up on her good hind leg, turned, and leaned back, propping herself up against the counter with her elbows. She watched the door like she was expecting someone to follow her in, which was funny considering how easily I had startled her.

“You a slave?” I asked after a minute or two.

She glanced over at me and grinned. Said something like, “Do I look like a slave?”

I got quiet and she ordered a drink. I didn’t even know New Appleoosa’s bar had tiny umbrellas.

“So we’re killing raiders?” I said.

She said, “Is that a problem?” Then she took a sip from her glass and winced as she swallowed.

I think I grinned when she asked that. “More of a plus, if you ask me,” I said. “Hate those trashy sons ‘a bitches.”

She grinned back, and asked for my name. I told her, and asked for hers.

“Paharita,” she stated, like it was the name of a country, doing a little bow. She staggered a little when she tried to stand up straight on her hind legs again. “So let’s get down to business.”

I blacked out once or twice while we were going over the plans, but she would either summarize what I missed or tell me that it wasn’t important, so we didn’t end up spending too much time sitting around at the bar. Once I had everything I needed to know tucked away in my noggin, we set off into the night.

Used to be that I would fly solo. I always figured that having someone else with me would just slow me down, and I didn’t want to have to babysit when I could be focusing on planning and killing. To tell the truth, though, having Rita with me, especially that first time… It felt nice. Natural, even. She kept pace with me, flying low enough that she wouldn’t attract attention, checking her PipBuck and telling me if there was any hostile wildlife I needed to stay clear of, or how close we were to where we were going.

The where part of that turned out to be…

Fucking hell, stop barging in here like that. Wait, sorry... what's on your mind?

Well… I’ve just finished preparing dinner!

I do hope you’ll be joining us. You’re fond of curry, aren’t you?

Was that even a question? I’ll be right there, let me just…

Shit, which button was I supposed to—

~~~|*/\*|~~~

Chapter Three – Employee Orientation

|[o’o ]|[o8- ]|[(  ) ]|

Double Tap swung his binoculars just a bit too high, getting a glaring eye-full of sunlight pouring in through a rare break in the clouds. He grumbled and tried to blink away the lingering blotches of color in his vision. Rita snickered and turned a page of her comic. Something funky was softly streaming through her PipBuck’s speaker.

“If she gets around by flying in a passenger carriage,” Tap mumbled as he glanced back at the griffon, “how the hell are we supposed to catch up to her?”

Rita peered over the edge of her comic, brow arched. “We have to figure out where she’s going before she goes there! It’s kinda like detective work! Takes a lot of really hard thinking though, so you just leave that to me, mmkay?”

Tap narrowed his eyes and went back to scanning the skyline.

“So…” he started after a few minutes of watching a pack of ghouls tear apart a raider.

“Yeah?” Another papery sound reached his ears as she turned a page.

“Yeah… About Littlepip.”

Paharita’s tone changed immediately. “What about her?” He could just imagine her perking up.

Tap closed his eyes, bracing for the gushing that was sure to follow. “The Steel Ranger file on her was great as far as describing her talents and traits, but it wasn’t really heavy on tactical information beyond her little Ranger killing party in Stable-Two. What uh…” He grit his teeth; Rita was already squealing. “What can you tell me about—”

“I can tell you just about everything there is to know about Littlepip! Next to the Ministry Mares and DJ Ponethree, she’s probably my favorite thing ever!” She had already nestled in beside him, her eyes nearly twinkling as he met her gaze. “What do you wanna know?!”

Though he already regretted asking, he swallowed his pride and began his line of inquiry. “What are we up against, exactly? What else has she done that I should know about?”

“Oh geeze, where do I even start?” Rita rolled onto her back, stretching her paws and talons into the air.

“What was the very first thing you heard about her?”

“Oh! Okay, I heard that like, one day out of the Stable, she took on the raiders of Ponyville all by herself!”

The scarred unicorn went rigid at the mention of Ponyville, eyes wide. He relaxed a moment later. “That’s no big deal. I’ve done that.”

“So you say, but I dunno… You could have gotten those scars anywhere, and your story is full of holes!” Tap snorted, and she grinned, glancing off to the side. “Besides, she won! I heard that she cleared out the whole library! Twilight Sparkle’s library! She even set a bunch of captives free in the process! Walked away from it like it was nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered.

“Nuh-uh! Totally true! DJ Ponethree told me all about it!” She waved the foreleg with her PipBuck for emphasis, the wrist secured computer spinning loosely with the motion.

“Okay, so she apparently killed a bunch of raiders. I could have done that too if I had gone back to Ponyville. What else has she done?”

“She killed a dragon!”

“That’s not funny, Rita. I seriously need to know what...” He glanced down at the griffon, and she tapped the speaker on her PipBuck, wearing her smuggest grin. “You’re fucking kidding.”

“Killed it with a magical shotgun of dragon-slaying! Didn’t even stand a chance. I almost feel sorry for it!”

“If it was a magical shotgun of whatever, then of course it didn’t stand a chance.” He lowered his binoculars, jabbing a forehoof at her.  “The shotgun was made for that. If you made a gun for killing things, and it kills things, then it’s doing what it’s supposed to do.”

Paharita rolled back onto her paws, giving him a sideways glance. “You wish you had the chance to kill a dragon.”

Tap snorted and returned his focus to the binoculars. “What else?”

A distant explosion briefly stole their attention. Tap centered in on the drifting smoke several blocks away, spotting several heavily armored ponies. The dark pits of the eyes gave their helmets the look of metal skulls, while the air filters around their mouths reminded him more of a gas mask. It was the traditional Steel Ranger design, but it seemed like the armor had been painted with streaks of red. As they ducked into cover to reload, some of the smoke cleared, revealing a trio of three tall, regal looking mares; one blue, the other two green. Each one possessed both a horn and a set of wings.

Oooh, alicorns, he mused to himself, attempting to get a better view of the frost blue mare’s backside. What are those Steel Ranger fuck-sticks shooting at them for? Probably fighting over a toaster or a light bulb or something.

One of the armor-clad ponies broke cover, immediately going down as a green alicorn struck it with a bolt of lightning. Residual currents flowed over the metal shell, wisps of smoke curling out from the fried circuitry.

Power armor, Tap mentally scoffed. Totally overrated arcano-tech garbage. Maybe instead of depending on a fancy robot suit, try not getting shot next time, jackass.

Another Steel Ranger stepped around to provide covering fire, unleashing a volley of grenades. The alicorn’s shields rippled as they steadily held their ground against the assault.

“Oh! She killed a whole bunch of ponies in Old Appleoosa too!” Rita blurted, having seemingly lost interest in the battle. “Just swooped in and shot them all dead! She even killed an alicorn by dropping a house on her!”

“A house,” Tap flatly repeated, still focusing on the firefight.

“Yep, a whole house! And then more slavers were trying to recapture the ponies she set free by taking over the train, and she killed all of them, too! She even rode the train off a cliff and walked way without a scratch!”

Both of the green alicorns erupted under a sustained barrage of explosives, covering their surroundings like bright red confetti. The remaining alicorn—the frost blue one—tried to retreat, turning and tearing through the air. Several missiles screamed after her, liquefying their target as they all impacted at roughly the same time. A distant cheer went up from the street as her remains spattered the concrete.

Tap sighed softly. “What a waste of a perfectly good ass.”

“You can go get a piece, if you want.” The griffon snickered as he scowled at her.

“So the Appleoosa line is down now because of her? I guess that’s worth a pat on the back. I hated that fucking train.” He licked his lips, levitating the bottle of scotch he had stolen from Shattered Hoof. After taking a swig, he decided that Gawdyna had very good taste. “What was an alicorn doing there, though?”

Paharita shrugged as he glanced at her, curling up and resting her head on a talon. “Red Eye stuff, probably. Alicorns and Red Eye are like sardines and peanut butter.” Tap gagged silently as he tried to keep himself from imagining how that would taste. “Pip and Red Eye don’t really see eye to… eye, either.”

“That’s not surprising. Red Eye is probably too deep for her. Most ponies expect everything to get better with the flip of a switch, but you can’t just fix everything with some kind of super magic. Gotta take steps.”

Rita continued to ramble on, as though she were ignoring him. “I heard that when she was in Fillydelphia, she volunteered to enter the arena and killed every single pony that she fought. She won an audience with Red Eye...” The little griffon giggled, balling her free talon. “And she spat right in his face!”

He felt his jaw go slack. “That cunt! Who does she think she is?!”

Rita shrugged again, trying to yank the binoculars out of Double Tap’s levitation. “Oh, just the Light-Bringer and savior of the wasteland. Besides, you’ve killed ponies on Red Eye’s payroll, too.”

Tap chewed on his lower lip, releasing the binoculars just as Paharita gave a strong pull. She squawked with surprise as she tumbled onto her back. “Yeah, but we were getting paid for that. She’s just running around and ruining his plans for… fun, I guess. I dunno.” She glared at him as she rolled back onto her paws. “Killing his dudes and spitting in his face are two very different things.”

“Well, you’re wrong, but okay!”

“Whatever. What else can you tell me?”

Paharita tapped her beak several times. “Uh… She kills alicorns like a champ!”

The unicorn frowned. “Of course she does…”

“She even killed the really, really big alicorn at Fillydelphia!”

“Great,” he replied in monotone, slowly scanning the horizon.

His thoughts flashed to the massive, jet black haunches of that once impressive creature, and the taste of the radiation purging cocktail he had put together. Even though he had nearly died from radiation poisoning, it was quite the experience. The fond memories faded as he reflected on what Rita had told him.

Was that the same super alicorn from the last time I visited Fillydelphia, though? Or… do they take turns being the super alicorm? Tap peered over the side of the building they were perched on, brow furrowed. And even if it was a different alicorn that runt killed, would she still remember me? Or do they all share the same memories? Or… ah, fuck it…

Several pony-like forms milled around at street level. They were all emaciated, and looked to be in various stages of falling apart, but he couldn’t tell if they were mindless shamblers or if they were still intelligent creatures. A moment later, they all turned and opened fire on a pack of mangy dogs that had been barreling toward them.

Curiosity satisfied, he sat back and looked around the crumbling skyline. The Statue of Friendship stood proudly to the east, in Manehattan harbor; a relic of the old world, now home to hundreds of ponies. Sometimes Paharita handled contracts that came from Friendship City’s seedier underside, but very rarely had he set hoof inside the city itself. Aside from Tenpony Tower, the only settlement they visited regularly was Arbu—for food, trading, and pleasant company—with the occasional trips to the Appleoosas and Fillydelphia.

His gaze lingered on Arbu. He couldn’t make out much more than the silhouette of the settlement, but he could easily imagine all the ponies going about their usual business. Suddenly, he remembered that there was a birthday he was supposed to remember. He mentally kicked himself for not taking some of the manticore’s teeth, or some hairs from its mane, or at least some of its meat to give as a gift.

Damn it... she would have loved that. It’s probably not too late for me to go back there and-

A sharp prod brought him back to reality. Rita grinned and bobbed her head. “Thinking about your giiiiirlfriend?”

Tap shoved her away. “Fuck off, Rita. She’s not my girlfriend.”

A glint of light moving around Tenpony’s roof caught his attention. He lifted one forehoof and started pointing, nudging the griffon with the other.

“Yeah, I see it!” She started to hop in place, wings fluttering as she looked through the binoculars. “That’s them!”

“Any idea where they’re going?”

“Nope!” Rita slowly turned her head, following the tiny speck of the passenger carriage as it zipped over the ruins of Manehattan. “But if I had to guess, it looks like they’re heading westish, off toward the Everfree… Er… not quite… Ponyville, maybe? ”

“Fucking…”

|[  7 ]|[ /_\ ]|[o8- ]|

“It would have been safer to take the road…” Paharita quietly whined. Tap hadn’t been keeping count of the times she’d said it, but he knew that this latest complaint crossed the line from a few to a lot. “It’s one thing if you want to put your own life in danger, but—”

Tap grinned back at her, meeting her flighty gaze. “Are you afraid of a mutant diamond dog or two?”

“Yes!” she replied in a shrill whisper, narrowing her eyes. “I’m terrified of them!”

“Sucks.” He shrugged mid-stride. “Yes, it would have been safer to take the road, but they already have a lead on us, and if we don’t catch up to them and do this now, we’ll have come this far for nothing more than a huge waste of time. Once we get past Old Olneigh, we’re pretty much in the clear to Ponyville. If that’s even where they went, anyway…”

He quickly scanned the darkened horizon, the last glow of the sun fading fast. “We just passed Maripony, and last I recall, Red Eye and the Goddess are on the same team. Worst comes to worst, we high-tail it to her doorstep. Maybe we can get some alicorns to help us.”

“Goddess or not, we can’t stop there! This is hellhound country!” The griffon continued to frown. “Also, do you think the alicorns remember that one job we did?”

“If they remember that, they definitely remember what I… was that gunfire?”

Rita arched a brow. “I didn’t—”

“Shhhh…”

Double Tap held his breath, swiveling his ears ahead of him. The sound of Rita’s feathers against the air filled the silence as he waited for the sound again. There was no encore, but the faintest of shouts reached his ears. The silhouette of a town loomed in the near-distance. Suddenly, he had a fairly good idea of where their target had ended up. He figured it to be ten to fifteen minutes away at a full gallop. Rita swallowed heavily as he locked eyes with her and gave a single nod.

Without another word, they set out at full tilt, Paharita gaining altitude as she flapped as hard as she could. The unicorn took a deep breath as he ran through his repertoire of spells. The first on his list was a light dampener, practically nullifying the glow of his horn as darkness warped around it. Next was a spell for his hooves, his every step magically producing counter vibrations to cancel out the sound of his movement. He wasn’t sure how well that would work against creatures that essentially sensed any sort of vibrations in the ground, but Littlepip was more of a priority at that moment.

He was fast approaching the edge of the town. The sound of gunfire had come and gone again, but Paharita gave no sign that the Sky Bandit had departed. With his levitation, he quickly went over his inventory.

Two dozen grenades clustered together in the pouches of his bandoleer, along with half as many proximity mines, accompanied by a spool of metal wire. Rita carried plenty of extras in the event of an emergency resupply. Comedy and Comedy—his twin, silenced nine-millimeter pistols—rested snugly in their holsters, both loaded with armor piercers. He had ten extra magazines on him, but like the explosives, he knew Paharita was carrying at least twenty more. The Punchline was holstered on his back, and its weight felt foreign. There were only ten enormous rounds for that, not counting whatever Rita had in reserve, but he wasn’t expecting to use that on anything other than Steelhooves. Multitudes of throwing knives were tucked into his vest and sweater wherever he could do so without stabbing himself. He wasn’t sure on the exact number, but there were more than enough.

Tap sped by a few houses and turned just short of the brick wall of a larger building, rearing up and pressing his back against it. He cracked his fetlocks, then his neck, shaking himself off and taking a moment to catch his breath. Once he had his bearings, he took a small hit of dash, priming himself for the much larger dose to come. He could hear movement; lots of movement, distorted and drawn out by the drugs in his system. None of it sounded equine in nature.

Just as he was about to peer around the corner, a soft feathery noise reached his ears. He turned, finding himself face to face with a blurry, barely visible silhouette.

“Remember when I said I was afraid of hellhounds?” Rita whispered. Before Tap could answer, she continued. “Well there are a lot of them running around just down the street.”

“What about—”

“I circled around. No Sky Bandit, but I saw Calamity and Velvet on the roof of the hospital. I think their phoenix was with them.”

“That’s…”

“The medic unicorn and the sniper pegasus, yes. Pip, Steelhooves and that zebra are probably inside.”

Tap started to move again, only to feel a talon clenching his collar. “They’re literally surrounded by hellhounds!” She immediately let go of his collar, and he could just imagine her clasping her talons over her beak.

“I’m just gonna take a look,” he whispered. “If you stop me again, I’m gonna sock you.”

The alley was clear. He reached around the corner and motioned for her to follow, slowly advancing until the alley opened into the street. “A lot” didn’t quite capture the number of huge, bipedal, canine-like creatures filling the streets of Old Olneigh, all of them staring up at the hospital’s roof. Their front paws were almost comically over-sized, rendered much less amusing by the enormous, flesh and metal shredding claws they housed. In some of those massive paws, he spotted energy weapons, modified to accommodate their use of fingers. Their eyes glowed in the dark, catching and reflecting the light of their torches. It was a mob if he’d ever seen one, and he had seen plenty.

An enormous hellhound climbed above the rest, standing on what looked like some kind of wagon, and held up a megaphone. Before her brutish grunt of a voice even reached his ears, he realized she was a she, his attention shifting directly to the parallel rows of tits that spanned from her chest to just shy of her pelvis. Her tattered vest barely covered them. She had something of a mane, but the hair looked coarse and greasy.

“We know you in there, ponies!” she barked into the megaphone, pointing up at the roof. “Come down! Even after you kill my pups, I ask nicely!”

Wow, he mouthed.

Tap receded, waving a forehoof around until he felt feathers and fur. “The fuck am I supposed to get through that?”

“I dunno!” came a shrill whisper in response. “Maybe we can cause a distraction and you can sneak in.”

The unicorn nodded, leaning around the corner again. This time, he felt a warm, feathery presence with him, clinging to him for dear life. His gaze passed over the crowd, momentarily lingering on the multi-breasted hellhound with the megaphone before focusing on the task at hand. On the first visual sweep of the streets, nothing caught his eye, but the second time around, he noticed something strange in the flickering light of the torches.

A few buildings from the gathering, something seemed to jut out of the ground itself, with a long pole protruding from it. Tap squinted through the dark, but it continued to elude him. He dropped back again, turning and rounding the building, following the edge of Olneigh in the direction of the mysterious object. Another cautious passage down an alley deposited them back at the main street, on the other side of the hellhounds. Even in the relatively poor light, he began to get an idea of what he was looking at.

“Is that…” He paused, briefly glancing down the street at the hellhounds. “Is that some kind of tank?”

Rita cooed quietly, but her excitement came across anyway. “That is, in fact, a tank. An earth pony tank, no less. Rifled, one-hundred twenty millimeter cannon… automated, roof-mounted heavy machine gun… These are pretty rare. I mean, there are plenty of pegasus operated tanks, but not a lot of resources were put into ground-based armored transport. Most war tech went to the airforce or the Steel Rangers. Applejack once said that—”

Even though he couldn’t see her, he knew exactly where to put his hooves to clamp her beak shut. “Rita, shut the fuck up and can you get this thing working?”

“Since it’s really kinda dry and stuff around here, and it doesn’t look like anyone has really touched this thing in the twoish-centuries since it was last used… Yeah, I think I can get it running without much fuss. Probably needs a severe tune up, and there might be some dust in the engine, but I can definitely get it started.” She paused. “They’re gonna be all over it as soon as I fire it up, though...”

“Well, don’t be here when that happens.”

“Are you kidding? This is a pre-war artifact! The Steel Rangers would totally pop their rockets if they saw this!”

Tap grimaced each time she raised her voice, glancing over at the already alert and impatient swarm of mutant canines. “Okay? So you’re gonna drive the thing out of here, then?” He held out a hoof, horn glowing dimly. “Give me all the explosives you’re carrying.”

A brief, one sided transaction followed. The extra grenades and mines felt heavy, but he knew he wouldn’t be carrying them for long. A dead griffon was useless to him. For that reason, his first objective while waiting for the distraction was to lay traps, in the hope of buying her some time.

A series of soft clicks reached his ears. “When you’re finished here,” she whispered, her voice becoming more distant, “head for Maripony.”

Paharita’s instructions were punctuated with the sound of rustling feathers, followed by a worryingly loud creak as the hatch next to the turret mounted gun opened and closed. He breathed a sigh of relief as the mob continued to give the hospital roof their undivided attention.

“Second time I ask!” growled what he assumed was the hellhound pack’s mother. “Ponies try my patience! Come down or we make you come down!”

The dull glow of his magic wrapped around several mines, lifting and spreading them evenly across the street. Shadows danced around him as he ducked into the entrance of what was once a convenience store, pulling three grenades from the cluster and delicately securing them behind a chunk of concrete. The spool floated next to him as he pulled a length of wire from the pins to the far wall, tying the loose end through all three rings. After, jamming a throwing knife as far into a crack in the wall as it would go, he cut the wire and tied the other end to the handle. With one hoof on the pins to keep them secure, he plucked the wire, grinning with satisfaction at its tension.

Double Tap turned from his good work, casting a decoy spell on the closest mine. It was nothing fancy; just a blur of motion and the sound of his voice directed into the store, but he figured a frenzied hellhound would take the bait without hesitation. He stepped over the wire and into the store itself, laying down a few more mines as he slowly found his way through the dark to the rear exit. The last mine he set gave off a gentle shimmer as he cast his decoy spell again, aiming it out into the empty expanse of Pleasant Valley. He circled around through an alley, placing another three grenades under a heavy trash can and tying their pins to the decayed masonry of the adjacent wall. The unicorn crept along the edge of darkness, laying more mines as he crossed the street.

There was nothing to secure the grenades with at the entrance of what he assumed to have been a daycare. Instead, he set the wire first, stabbing into cracks in the masonry and threading it through the handles. He stuck a knife in the ceiling next, threading through a hole in the handle. After testing the purchase of the knives, he levitated another three grenades to the loose end, tying up their pins and letting their weight settle before letting them go. They hung heavily, just begging for something to brush them and set them off.

“You come down now!” she barked, her voice carrying. “Final chance!”

Why haven’t they just stormed the fucking place? After setting another decoy spell, Tap glanced up at the gigantic hellhound bitch and her restless kin. What are they waiting for? They can’t seriously be interested in settling things peacefully.

In the absence of flickering torchlight, his eyes re-adjusted to the darkness of the Daycare’s interior. Carefully, he made his way through, laying the occasional land mine and covering it with the worm eaten remains of a stuffed animal.

A rumble shook the building just as he reached a doorway in the rear, never quite fading. The doorway fell in on itself, taking a chunk of the ceiling with it. He narrowed his eyes to shield them from falling dust and crumbling plaster, turning back toward the front door. Another, much more intense tremor rocked the building and nearly knocked him off his hooves, a series of deep cracks forming along the walls and in the ceiling. Tap reached out with his magic just in time to catch his grenade bouquet, holding the three metal pineapples steady as everything around them shook violently. Part of that door frame collapsed, too, taking the wire and all three pins with it. With a grunt and a flare of his horn, all three grenades sailed out into the street, exploding seconds later.

Tap pulled both pistols and squeezed a grenade, holding his breath in anticipation. He was very glad for that when moments later, a cloud of dust billowed into the building, forcing him to close his eyes. A distant, rapid whooping sound came into sharper focus as the rumbling ceased, the sudden calm peppered with the occasional clop, like a stone striking another stone, or a dry tumbling. Whatever happened outside had clearly masked the premature detonation of his hanging grenades. While he was thankful for that, the circumstances had clearly changed, and the uncertainty as to how made him feel sick to his stomach. Meanwhile, the whooping became increasingly faint, until it was gone altogether.

The unicorn cracked an eye open, the briefest flash of a smile greeting him, vanishing again in an instant. Fuck off, he darkly mused.

Squinting through the dust, he pushed himself off the floor, ears high and slowly turning, listening for anything that might help him assess the situation. Out on the street, a few coughs started to break the silence. His eyes were drawn to a staircase that had missed coming in, listening attentively as he crept to the second floor.

“Any sign of ponies?!” He immediately recognized the brutishly feminine voice of their leader.

“Maybe we crush them!” shouted another, this one male. “You say roof stay in one piece when it come down, but it look broken to me!”

“It not my fault ponies so puny!”

A less gravelly sounding female asked, “Do we still dig them out and eat them?”

The unicorn peered out of a second story window, watching hellhounds resurface in droves around the smoldering rubble that had been a hospital minutes before. The cart that the huge bitch had been standing on was buried under debris, and she was now standing on top of that debris, a crowd slowly forming around her. At her side stood a smaller, much less bulky hellhound with slightly more slender paws. The hellhound turned his way, and he ducked, grinding his teeth.

“Sure,” the hellhound mother muttered. “Not as fun if we can’t chase them first… Oh well.”

He slowly peeked over the windowsill again. The big one was leaving, but the smaller one remained, still turned toward his building. On closer inspection, he realized that the smaller one was also a she; probably the one that had asked about digging out Littlepip. Her fur was mostly reddish brown, almost the color of chocolate, with patches of dirty white spilling down from her face to her crotch. She wasn’t as well endowed as the other bitch, wearing what looked to be a zipped up kevlar vest with “MARIPONY M.P.” across the front in faded white letters. What she lacked around the chest, however, she made up for below the waist. She appeared to be much wider in the hips, bearing powerful looking hind legs. The intense blue of her eyes glinted in the light of the torches as he gave her face a better look.

The final thing he noticed was that she was looking right at him. A big, toothy grin spread across her muzzle. His heart skipped a beat.

Oh fuck.

The odds were not in his favor. He didn’t even need Rita to run the numbers to know that. The feeling in his gut was as far from good as it could get. Instinctively, he snapped a dash inhaler to his mouth and bit down on the mouthpiece. What would have been a quick hiss was drawn out as he drained the canister, slowed way down as the amphetamines went straight to his head, seeping in through his blood stream and lighting up every inch of his nervous system. His eyelids fell heavily, like curtains.

The blue eyed hellhound was down on the street. So far, she was the only one to notice him. She barged in through the first floor and set off the mines. On top of the fact that the mines had exploded under her, she also tripped the decoy spell, alerting just about all of them and sending them running.

A single hellhound poked up from the stairwell, and he unloaded into the hound’s eyes, where the hide wasn’t as thick. The body tumbled limply. Tap turned and tossed several grenades down the stairs as they charged up after him, slowing them down at best. He continued to fire until the Comedies were empty, bringing up the Punchline and firing into the thick of them as he swapped magazines. He backed toward the window, filling the air with grenades and bullets. The hellhounds continued to advance, coming faster than he could kill them.

Tap pulled the pins on every grenade he had left, lobbing them, along with every single land mine, into the room. He jumped out through the window at roughly the same time, pushed a bit further by the blast.

The hellhound mother was waiting for him on the ground, fangs bared and claws poised. His magic welled up under him, violently shoving him back into the air for just a few moments more, but she leapt after him. Her claws carved through him as though he were made of papier-mâché.

His insides came out as he hit the ground. The hellhounds fell on him and immediately began to tear him apart.

-^v-^v------

The blue eyed hellhound was down on the street. So far, she was the only one to notice him. She barged in through the first floor and set off the mines. On top of the fact that the mines had exploded under her, she also tripped the decoy spell, alerting just about all of them and sending them running.

He was already at a window in the rear of the place, tossing more mines behind him and lunging at the planks barring his path. Splinters clung to his form as he smashed through. He hit the ground hard, but the dash kept him on his hooves. Several more explosions sounded from within the building.

Pip or not, he was cutting his losses.

As he galloped off into the dark, a red dot circled the ground in front of him, then swept off into the distance. Paharita had also aborted the mission, guiding him to a rendezvous point via laser pointer while airborne.

They regrouped at Maripony and decided to call it a night.

-0-

Double Tap’s vision blurred for a moment as he opened his eyes again. Even a blink felt as though it had lasted for hours. His eyes focused on the hellhound, still standing where he had left her, but she was moving. Lurching, even, shifting her weight forward as she slowly dropped to all fours. Her poise seemed off somehow, as though it weren’t intended for a four legged sprint. Tap remembered her thick hind legs.

FUCK.

Without hesitation, his body turned, still watching the window as he made for the stairs. Tap lost sight of her, and then, just as he was dropping through the stairwell, those blue, predatory eyes met his a second time. The hellhound had jumped straight from street level to the second story window, ripping the frame apart as she viciously clawed her way inside. He quickly reviewed the changing scenario as he bolted to the front door. So far, she was the only one that was definitely aware of him. There were still other traps to distract the other hellhounds. Provided he could lose her, a clean getaway was very possible.

Several chunks of plaster and concrete drifted loose just above the front door. Long, sharp claws followed. She was burrowing through the floor. Her slender paw whistled through the air, swiping at him through the hole she had made just as he was about to pass under her. Tap dropped to his knees, sliding, tilting his head as far back as far back it would go. Her claws skimmed his throat and chin, shaving off any fur they came in contact with. As his vision leveled on the front door, he could see other hellhounds starting to take notice. He threw his weight back, rearing up on his hinds and straighting out his forelegs, landing on all fours with a thump.

A thick layer of dust and debris from the surprise building demolition now coated the floor. While the mines he placed indoors were still covered by decayed stuffed animals, he imagined that the mines he had scattered across the street were effectively invisible now thanks to the collapse. He looked back and made eye contact a third time as his gaze passed over the ceiling. She was snarling, eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed with carnal fury as she continued to try and claw through the floor to get at him. The instant passed, and he set his sights on the street again.

Several hellhounds were lumbering closer, more taking notice behind them. The decoy spell on the mine at the entrance was still in place.

It occurred to him, as his horn flared dimly, that a great deal of his plans hinged on Paharita realizing that salvaging the tank was not going to happen, now that the hellhounds didn’t have a hospital to gawk at. He fired a tiny, barely visible sphere of light at the ground ahead of him, halfway between the approaching hellhounds and himself. The spell exploded harmlessly, a wall of smoke spilling out from the focal point and blanketing the front of the daycare. He tucked his legs and his head as he rolled clear of the entrance, unfolding his forelegs to pivot.

The entrance was a bit closer to the center of the building than he remembered. It was a minor detail; he slinked along the wall and rounded the corner as his own voice cut through the commotion behind him.

“Coooommmeeee aaaannnnd geeeeeet iiiiiiit sssssssshiiiiiiit heeeeeeeaaaaadssssss!”

A long rumble of an explosion followed as they triggered the mine to which he had bound the spell. The side alley blurred past as he galloped through, putting distance between himself and the larger buildings, briefly hesitating as he stood on what was once somepony’s front lawn. A few more extended eruptions reached his ears, but they sounded farther away. The hellhounds were starting to trip the mines in the street. Their startled, distorted yelping followed, and then came the shouting. The hellhound mother’s grunting voice was like sandpaper on his ears, every drawn out syllable making him grit his teeth. He did his best to ignore it, looking around for Rita’s signal.

The red dot never came.

Instead, a new sound greeted him. His first instinct was to aim at the ground, expecting a hellhound to lash up at him, but it was a different kind of rumbling; less earthy and more mechanical. His jaw hung slack, and he doubled back, galloping right into the chaos he had just left behind.

You stupid feathery asshole, he seethed with his thoughts, what’s the fucking matter with you?! 

Just as he was debating how difficult he was going to make it for Rita to walk when they got home, a voice echoed in his ears, making his blood run cold.

“This is pretty risky,” Tap shot a look to his left, the ghost of a smile fading into the darkness, “don’t you think?”

I don’t have time for this shit. He shook his head, trying to clear her voice out of his thoughts.

The unicorn began to feel slower, the world gradually speeding up around him as he cleared a fence on powerful strides. His lips sealed around a mouthpiece, taking a smaller hit to keep him sharp. Passing by a side alley, he could clearly see that the street was absolutely filled with hellhounds again, all of them staring in the direction of the tank, a few of them firing crackling bolts of energy from their rifles. He couldn’t tell if it was the novelty of the engine’s purr or the chance that they had realized the street had become a minefield that kept them at bay. He filed the reason as irrelevant, knowing that their hesitation would only last for so long. Or perhaps, as the use of energy weapons showed, they weren’t hesitating at all.

Five of them suddenly burst from the ground in front of him, staring down the same alley he had intended on traversing. There were undoubtedly more of them in position on the other side, and probably even more burrowing their way under the tank at that very moment.  He reflected on the positives; the fact that they hadn’t come up with their sights set on him was proof enough that his muting spell worked against hellhounds. Even so, he had no intention of slowing down for a pack of mongrels.

He attempted to dart around them, galloping on ahead. They dodged his mines and grenades, caught up, and gutted him like a fish.

-^v-^v------

He attempted to dart around them, unloading into their midst as he swung wide. One of them doubled over, clasping its knee. Another dropped dead from a few bullets to the brain. The others shrugged off their injuries and gave chase. They dodged his mines and grenades, caught up, and gutted him like a fish.

-^v-^v------

He jumped as high as he could with a magical assist, shooting down at them for the full arc of his flight. Three of them hit the ground dead or severely wounded. Two gave chase. They were too injured and disoriented to dodge the mines and grenades he tossed back at them. None of the explosions killed them, but they were crippling enough to aid his escape.

-0-

They had just started to look his way when his eyes opened. He tensed up, lunging forward, all four hooves striking the ground. Tap’s horn flared, pressure building under him, exploding upwards. He soared over the pack, twisting hinds over head, grinning down at them. Their expressions were priceless. Pistols alone wouldn’t be enough, so he let loose some explosives; three grenades tumbled into their midst, all while he emptied two magazines full of armor piercers. Spurts of red misted the cool night air as bullets bored through dense hide, making their frenzied scramble to regroup all the more difficult. He doubted the attack would kill all of them, and he knew the explosion would bring more, but his objective was no longer to evade detection. At the very least, it would slow this group down long enough for him to reach the main road.

A flicker of motion registered in the edge of his vision just as he reached the apex of his jump; a red blur colliding with the hellhounds as they tried to flee. His grin faded and her grin spread, wider and sharper than a pony’s grin had any right to be.

She erupted before the grenades, skewering all but the one closest to him with long, black barbs of flesh in a single, horrifying instant. The hellhounds didn’t even have time to cry out as she yanked them into her epicenter, pulling them apart as though they were poorly made toys. All the while, the one that she missed at first suffered the worst of it, legs ripped out from under it in jagged, uneven chunks. The body never hit the ground. Several glistening hooks lashed out and dug into the hound from all sides, pulling taut. Tap met the poor creature’s pleading gaze as it tried in vain to claw its way to safety. A series of sickeningly wet cracks split the air as the hellhound was ripped toward her, piece by piece. And then, as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone again. 

The combined force of the explosives scattered the pack’s unrecognizable remains. A pair of mutilated paws jutted out of the earth, long claw marks stretching toward Tap. He felt a wave of nausea.

Lady Luck had smiled.

Despite what he had just witnessed, Tap pulled himself away and put his mind back to the task at hoof. A fresh set of magazines replaced the empty pair while he tossed four mines amongst the bits of hellhound. He knew there would be many more coming his way to investigate the blast, and he wanted to keep them busy. For Rita’s sake, he was counting on that. The silhouette of the tank lay ahead, framed by the walls of the alley. Its barrel slowly leveled as his hooves pounded concrete, treads jerking experimentally. Several bursts of prismatic energy broke across the hull, but the tank seemed no worse for wear.

From across the street, another round of distorted percussive outbursts rocked the night. The unicorn realized they were nearly out of traps to set off. A long howl rolled in from behind him, followed by an earthy crumbling that reverberated in his ears; weathered cement shattered around geysers of loose soil. He sidestepped, narrowly avoiding a lashing claw. Even with the drugs to alter his perception of time, the alley was quickly becoming crowded with fur and fangs. He somersaulted away from another swipe, a sharp pain shooting through his right flank as the hellhound carved into his flesh. Another explosion echoed in from the street. He holstered his pistols. There just wasn’t enough time to deal with the hounds occupying the alley.

Double Tap jumped, not to avoid another attack, but right toward a wall. His forehooves made contact first, bracing and tensing as his hinds followed. He kicked as hard as he could, sending himself just a bit higher as he twisted to meet the opposite wall. He felt too heavy to keep it up. Most of the explosives would have to go. A shower of metal rings on thin metal stems fell away from him as he crossed the alley a third time, hellhounds leaping into the air to swipe at him in passing.

What followed as he leapt again was a downpour of grenades, with the last of his mines tumbling out of his pockets like over-sized coins. He kicked again, harder, soaring higher. With a push from his magic, he cleared the railing of a fire escape. There was no time to rest. He counted down with every step he took, pushing himself to move faster as he ascended the rusty stairs.

Just as he stumbled onto the roof, the alley four stories below lit up with enough force to shake the building.

The world began to spin, volume and pitch increasing as the dash started to wear off. He gasped around another hit. A small fit of trembles ran through his legs as he lifted himself off the floor, but he steadied himself and took a few steps in the direction of the tank. When he peered over the side of the building to get a look at it, he found himself face to face with a hellhound. Several more were well on their way to reaching him. He jumped back, narrowly avoiding a swipe that would have taken his head off.

Putting a fetlock to his chin, he realized he hadn’t avoided it as cleanly as he had thought. A shallow groove stretched across the underside of his jaw. Blood and pain followed as his nerves and blood vessels caught up. He put a healing potion to his lips and chugged it down, then tossed the bottle away.

A very brief moment of repose was spent reflecting on the changing situation. There were lots of them climbing up to get him, and he could only guess that they were scrambling up through the interior as well. A scraping sound from below confirmed his suspicion. He could see movement in the building across the street as well, canine faces torn between snarling up at him and snarling down at the tank in the middle of the street. The hellhound that had nearly decapitated him began to pull itself onto the roof, glaring at him all the while. Tap closed his eyes.

He jumped off the roof, aiming for the tank. All four of his legs snapped on impact. Several sets of claws tore through the hull of the tank, severing his hinds in the process. He caught the look of horror on Rita’s face just before they cut her to shreads. The hellhound mother picked him up by the throat, put a single claw to his breast, and split him open.

-^v-^v------

He tried to step around the closest hellhound, but it took a swing and split his skull horizontally, at eye level.

-^v-^v------

He leveled the Punchline at the closest hellhound and took its head off, then slipped over the side of the roof, aiming for a climbing hellhound about a floor below him. The hellhound cut him in half just as he was about to land on it. He hit the pavement, head first.

-^v-^v------

He leveled the Punchline at the closest hellhound and took its head off, then looked over the side of the roof and cast a flash spell at the wall. After that, he slipped over the side, aiming for the climbing hellhound about a floor below him. The hellhound swiped blindly, its face crunching as he landed on it with all four hooves. He cast another flash spell mid jump, twisting around another swipe as he landed on the next closest hellhound. The hellhounds had already begun leaping from the buildings on either side of the tank, landing on top of it and ripping it open. There was nowhere to go. Rita watched as he let them tear her apart. He was next.

-0-

Everything blurred as Tap opened his eyes, a nervous chill running down his spine. No matter how he ran through the scenario, one or both of them ended up getting dissected. In his quick glance down to the street, he had seen that the hellhounds were getting worryingly close to the tank. However, they were apparently assuming it was surrounded on all sides by mines, even though he had only rigged the street in the direction of the hospital.

Another explosion carried into the night. They were clearly getting bolder, and if they didn’t outright charge soon, they would definitely start jumping from the windows. Tap attempted to wrap a grenade in his levitation, but ended up grabbing his spool of wire instead. A thought occurred as he circled the edge, stopping at a collection of thick looking pipes that jutted up from the roof.

The spool floated out in front of him, unraveling with yards of slack. Several sets of claws sheered through the concrete a few paces behind him. He wrapped the loose end of the wire around one of the pipes and tied it off, tugging to make sure it was secure. He glanced over his wither as the climbing hellhound finished its ascent, getting its footing on the edge of the building. Tap took a deep breath and raised a charge, galloping toward the creature at full speed. 

He squinted, the glow of his horn manifesting as his flash spell. The hound yelped in shock, stumbling forward as it shielded its eyes. Tap jumped right onto its back. The spool followed, unraveling until he could loop the other end of the metal thread around the hellhound’s neck. He prayed its hide was durable enough to hold up against the wire, and that the wire and the pipe were durable enough to hold up against the hound’s weight. After giving a tug and getting a distorted but satisfying gag from the hound, he focused his magic on the roof beneath them and aimed out toward the street. When he had enough force built up, he wrapped his forelegs around the hellhound’s neck and released. Hundreds of glowing eyes focused on him as they fell away from the building.

Tap had just begun to believe that his last ditch plan had fallen apart when the wire tensed, biting into the hellhound’s flesh. A harsh crack resonated in his ears as the hound’s neck bent at an unnatural angle, but the wire held, and he rode its body as it swung back toward the side of the building. A drawn out roar of snarling and barking filled his ears just before impact. He felt a heavy blow ripple through the hellhound’s body as it roughly struck the brick façade, knocking the breath from his lungs. A burst of light sizzled through the air and turned several bricks to glowing sludge, just narrowly missing the side of his head. The other hellhounds crawled toward him like insects, while some seemed more interested in reaching the wire itself.

Just as the hellhound he had snared began to bleed from the deep furrow around its neck, he let go and kicked with all his might. A set of claws burst through the masonry, reaching out for him and severing the wire in the process. He glanced down; the tank still seemed so far away, its treads starting to grind against the street where it had sunken in. Without warning, it seemed to jump in place, dust rising off it as if it were some sort of aura. A jet of smoke and fire poured from the barrel, followed by a tapered metal cylinder that shrieked through the air. The hellhounds in the direction of the hospital simply had no time to react.

The hellhound mother did, however, have time to glance up from the artillery shell spiraling toward her, giving Tap a sad, defeated sort of look.

The shell plowed right through her, taking her torso apart as if she were a piñata. It kept going, slowing down just a little more each time it pulverized a hellhound in its path. A scant few instants after being fired, the shell exploded, taking some of the street and at least a dozen hellhounds with it. Tap cast a long shadow in the glow of the fireball as he hit the hull of the tank a bit harder than he would have liked. His knees and hocks ached from abuse, but he couldn’t afford to slow down. Reaching Rita and getting out of Old Olneigh were his top priorities. He darted to the hatch, and to his surprise, the hatch opened without any trouble. The tank let out a low groan under him, engine churning, the entire machine rattling and shaking as it pulled itself out of the sinkhole.

“RRRRRiiiitaa!” Double Tap felt his stomach lurch as he came down hard. He swallowed, attempting to focus. “Rita, we need to get the fuck outta here!”

A hellhound came crashing down on the rear of the tank, claws digging into the hull from the force of impact alone. Both he and the hellhound nearly lost their balance as the tank heaved, slamming against the street. He sluggishly leveled the Punchline, struggling to hold it steady as his temples pounded. Even after hearing a one-hundred and twenty millimeter cannon fired just about underneath him, the sharp, reverberating crack his anti-machine pistol made as he pulled the trigger was still satisfying. In the blink of an eye, the advancing hellhound was missing its head and left shoulder. As the tank started to roll, a beam of crackling energy pulsed by, searing some of the fur off his left flank. He gritted his teeth and peered into the cockpit, then his jaw immediately went slack.

There wasn’t a soul inside. His eyes bulged in their sockets.

“What the fuck, Rita! Where the fuck are you?!”

Rita’s voice crackled from within. “I’m already heading toward Maripony! What are you doing down there?! You were supposed to head there, lunkhead, not rodeo the diversion! I spent five minutes watching a ghoul chase my laser pointer because I thought it was you!” Another hellhound hit the tank, growling as it locked eyes with Tap. “Ugh, get down!”

The unicorn fumbled to reload, slipping a massive bullet into the Punchline’s breach. In the same moment, the hellhound leaned back, looking ready to lunge. Its chest exploded in a spray of blood. A quick succession of echoing cracks split the air, the mounted machine gun next to the hatch unloading into the hound until it tumbled over the side. Another hound dropped to the roof directly behind Tap as he put a forehoof on the rim of the hatch. The machine-gun turned his way, and with wide eyes, he dove beneath a stream of bullets. The tank lurched backwards, breaking his grip and sending him sliding. His hooves scrambled against the hull, struggling to find purchase, his hinds hanging over the edge of the turret by the time he stopped himself.

On top of all the rumbling and rattling under him, the entire turret began to turn, the barrel of the tank’s cannon crashing through the wall of an office building as they picked up speed. He pulled himself back up, staying low as the mounted gun swung independently, aiming in the direction the tank was moving before the turret could catch up. A thick, wet sound underscored the harsh crack of machine gun fire as Rita peppered the furious crowd of hellhounds with hot lead. Those that fell were crushed under the treads seconds later, whimpering, yelping and wet crunching reaching his ears. Others went for the ground, burrowing down into the street. He glanced back, past the thick black plumes that billowed from the sides of the hull, watching survivors of the shelling do the same.

Paharita’s voice crackled out of the radio. “If you wanna help, that would be pretty great right about now!”

With a vigorous shake of his head, the unicorn managed to center his thoughts, reaching for grenades with his telekinesis. Before he could throw them, the tank rocked to the left.

Tap was knocked onto his side, sent sliding toward the edge again. The unicorn stopped himself by grabbing for a groove in the hull, peering cautiously over the side. Where there had been solid pavement a moment ago, there was now a deep trench into which part of the road had collapsed. Despite the hound’s attempted roadblock, the treads kept on turning, barreling toward the edge of town. His horn flared as he lobbed three grenades into the fresh pit, a few startled yelps reaching his ears, drowned out by the ensuing blast. The tank jerked, this time to the right, sending him sliding right into the hatch.

From the cockpit, he watched the barrel of the mounted gun flash almost continuously, a mechanical hum echoing through the cramped quarters every time it turned toward a new target.

“Hey, see those big, blue cylinders there?” Tap turned toward the source of Rita’s voice. It was a radio after all.

“Can you even—?”

“Yes, I can hear you. I can see you, too.” A tiny, circular camera in the ceiling produced a dry buzz as it did a full turn. “Pick up one of those cylinders, open the firing chamber thing, and slide it in, pointy end first.”

“I know how to load artillery.” The tank tilted again, nearly causing Tap to smack his head on a scope of sorts. He pulled the chamber open, grunting as he levitated the shell into place and then sealed it. “Would it have killed you to tell me you weren’t going to be inside this thing?”

“You didn’t ask! Besides, you’re the one that deviated from the plan.”

“Well I hope you like being bedridden,” he half growled, grinning lewdly up at the camera, “because you’re not gonna want to use your hind legs for a while if we survive this.”

“Ooooh,” she cooed as he climbed back out of the turret. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Both!”

The tank had already put Olneigh a fair distance behind them as he pulled himself back onto the turret. Behind them, through the trail of dust the treads kicked up, the earth itself seemed to undulate, rocks and clumps of dry grass dislodged by the scores of hellhounds burrowing after them. They were slowly falling behind, however, the tank more than capable of speeding across uneven terrain. He crouched as the turret began to move, aiming for a small hill in the distance. Squinting through the dark, he made out at least ten bipedal figures. An orange glare cut through the night, a plume of smoke stretching out behind it. Tap furrowed his brow and dove back down the hatch.

An explosion rocked the tank seconds later. A much, much louder sound followed as Rita returned fire. When he peered out, the hill had been reduced to a smoldering crater.

“How many shells do we have?!” Tap shouted down the hatch.

“Lots! Load the cannon, I’m gonna see if we can shake them.”

Tap dropped back to the floor of the cockpit, wrenching the chamber open again. “Save the cannon for now, I’ll take care of this!”

Chewing his lower lip, Tap spent several moments looking through the available ammunition stored within the tank. Several direct-action fused shells caught his attention. Straining so hard that he could only keep one eye open, Tap lifted three shells with his levitation, gasping with relief as he deposited one of them in the chamber and bucked it closed. The other two he dragged out through the hatch, sitting on one of them to keep it from rolling over the side. He held the other steady in his telekinetic grasp as he slowly lifted it skyward, blinked away a few beads of sweat, and took a deep breath.

The edge of his vision flashed red as he shoved the shell as hard as he could, the glow of his horn completely snuffed out. He dipped forward, panting, and followed the shell with his eyes as it soared through the air. A few seconds later, the shell came whistling back down, sinking right into the earth. An enormous sinkhole formed, dirt puffing up toward the sky around a rolling fireball and then dropping back down into a crater.

Clearly discouraged, the burrowing stopped, hellhounds pushing their way out of the earth to snarl and howl as he sped away. Tap sneered and struggled to lift the second shell into position. The commotion immediately ceased, at least one yelp reaching his ears as they scattered, tails tucked between their hind legs. Only one remained unturned. A chill ran down Tap’s spine as he recognized the hound; the one that had chased him through the daycare. She stood with her paw raised, a claw extended toward him. A glint of whitish-blue in the darkness, and she was gone.

The unicorn put the shell back down and groaned, rolling onto his back. Heavy clouds drifted overhead, broken up by the occasional glimpse at a star through gaps in the overcast. He spotted Rita circling high above, strobing a laser pointer in his face.

“Rita,” Tap grumbled, shielding his eyes pushing himself closer to the hatch. “I think our contract just expired.”

“I already told you that this contact doesn’t have a time limit, silly!”

Double Tap shook his head, staring into the camera built into the mounted gun . “No, I mean... I don’t think Littlepip made it out of there.”

He recoiled as the gun spun around several times. “You gotta have some faith in her! Of course she made it out! There was a griffon-chaser on the roof of that hospital!”

“A what?”

“She flew it out and carried everyone with her! Aw, you shoulda’ seen it!”

Suddenly, he began to feel very deflated. “Whatever... Where are we going?”

“We’re circling around the edge of Splendid Valley.” The mounted gun did a slow turn, and he followed its barrel, assuming that was their course. “Can’t just go charging through the thick of them all willy-nilly!”

“Alright, just making sure. This thing can make the trip, right?”

“Well,” she began, pausing for several seconds, “we’re gonna find out!”

Tap buried his face in his fetlocks and sighed.

|[o8- ]|[o’o ]|[o’o ]|

Chapter 4 - Technical Difficulties

~~~|*/\*|~~~

Got a little sidetracked, there! Where was I?

Mmmh… Is everything alright?

Oh, sorry. Yeah, everything’s fine.

Come back to bed, silly. She’s gonna hog all the sheets if you’re not here.

I’ll do no such thing.

I’ll be there soon; I just want to finish this part. I’ll keep it down, though.

Okie-dokie. Ni-ni.

Goodnight.

You know…

All things considered, I’m pretty lucky to have these girls. Sure, they argue and fight over me sometimes, but…

Anyway.

Uh... Rita and I hooked up in the bar... I followed her across the desert...

Okay, so after traveling for about a day, we duck into this cave to grab some shut eye. Right away, I could tell something had been killed in there not too long before we arrived. There wasn’t a body, and I still don’t know what happened in there, but Rita got real antsy when she saw all the blood. I was regrettably sober enough at that point that I couldn’t just ignore her pacing around, so I started a fire and tried to start a conversation. That didn’t go so well, and I think she insulted me a few times...

But, I guess me being there helped, because she eventually calmed down and came over to sit with me. Then she starts asking me about my childhood, and the Ministry Mares, and a bunch of other shit I didn’t really feel like answering.

Last thing she said before I got out my canteen of whiskey was, “How’d you get all those scars?”

And I say, “I got shot.”

“Oh yeah,” she says, “That’s the worst.” I nodded and took a swig from my canteen, and then she asked, “Do you wanna bump uglies?”

I sprayed whiskey into the fire, and a huge fucking fireball rolled up. I asked her to repeat herself.

She looked me in the eyes and said, “I’m bored, it’s been a long day, and I don’t have a deck of cards. Do you have any better ideas?”

I didn’t.

So we didn’t do much sleeping. We headed out a few hours later and stopped just outside the ruins of a town. We were up on a cliff overlooking the place, which was awesome for me because it meant I could study the layout and get a headcount on the raiders. I think I counted fifteen or twenty of them the first time, but I figured there were more tooling around inside the buildings. We had a few hours before dark, and I planned on waiting. Rita had different plans.

She looked at me and said something like, “What are you waiting for?”

“I work better at night,” I said. “More places to hide. Easier to get them to panic and make stupid mistakes.”

She sighed and pouted after that, but I wasn’t about to plow into a place until the conditions were right.

So we waited till the sun went down. I had noticed a pattern in their patrols and routes by that point, and bumped my headcount up to around twenty-five. That was good enough for me.

“Stay out of sight,” I told her as I got up. “Some of them have rifles. I’ll whistle for you when the area is clear.”

She shook her head and dug into her vest. When she pulled her claw back out, she had a little silver laser pointer.

“Get up on a roof and flash this when you’re done,” she said. Or something like that.

I nodded and started on my way into town, but I didn’t make it more than two steps before she called me back. She handed me a little blue inhaler and said that it might help give me an edge. I had seen dash inhalers before, but never really bothered with them. Since they had numbers on their side, though, I figured it couldn’t hurt.

She also said, “You should probably try and do this quietly.”

I grinned, but said nothing.

With that out of the way, I started heading in for real. The tallest building in the town was a hotel, about four stories and partially collapsed. I had spotted at least one sharpshooter on the top floor while I was up on the cliff, and fuck sharpshooters. The raiders stuck to their patrol schedule as far as I could tell, so sneaking through the streets and into the hotel was no big deal. I slipped in through rubble of the collapsed half of the building and ended up in a bedroom on the second floor.

The door didn’t look like it was nailed shut. I moved closer, saw light bleeding in from the hall and heard voices on the other side. Three voices, I think. I wasn’t sure where they were sitting, or standing, or if they were behind cover, so I started running through scenarios. Hundreds of possibilities depending on their positions, or if there was a fourth or even a fifth pony that just wasn’t saying anything. Maybe there were more in the other rooms. I counted down by my heartbeat the whole time, working myself up for what was to come.

I pushed through, out into the hall, and got right to business.

There were four of them, and they clearly weren’t expecting company. They hit the floor like sacks full of rocks without so much as getting out a word of warning. Each body was a potential lure, so I tucked landmines under two of them real careful. I was running on a budget, so I didn’t have enough explosives to booby-trap all of them, and I used my knife to kill two more on my way to the top because I knew I would need the bullets later. Getting up there without alerts paid off though.

Their sharp shooter never saw it coming.

I shoved her through a window and she screamed all the way down. Hit the street head first; huge mess. Six more broke patrol and came running, but they didn’t know what to make of it. I could see a few more on their way. While they were standing around looking up at the hotel, I pulled a few pins and dropped three grenades into the gathering.

The raiders occupying the place were less than thrilled about the explosion. The survivors of the blast started shouting for help, and the whole town came to life. Torches, flashlights, glow-sticks... a whole light show just for me. Most of them were buzzing around on street level, trying to stick to cover as they yelled out threats to me. One of them had the bright idea to get indoors. In minutes, ten of them had filed into the hotel. I could hear them through the walls, shouting out names that probably had belonged to the ones I had already killed.

When the mines finally went off, I had jumped over a ledge on the third floor and landed on the rotted mattress I was aiming for one floor below. The plan was to flank them as they went up through the building, and I took the rifle with me just so they couldn't use it against me.

A patrol of four came snooping through before I could get back inside, though, and I knew they would see me scrambling through the rubble. I got real close to the debris under my hooves, and when they passed, I went after them. They were basically moving in a straight line, so when I cut the throats of the last two and just left them in the dust, the other two didn’t even notice. Then, right when I’m about to knife the second in line, he looked back at me and does a spit take. I put my blade through his throat, but not before he could squawk something out.

Guy at the head of the line wheels around and starts unloading with a sub-machine gun. Thankfully they weren’t armor piercers or they might have gone through his friend and hit me. While he was spraying and shouting like a jackass, I just lobbed my knife at him and stuck him right in the forehead. He goes down, I drop his friend and put down a few mines. The rest of the night was really just rinse and repeat. I’d kill a few, make some noise, and wait for more to come looking. Luring the raiders out of the hotel again wasn’t even a challenge. They may as well have put the barrels of their guns in their mouths and waited for me to pull the triggers.

The very last one had enough common sense to hole himself up, in the restaurant Rita was trying to get to of all places. There was only one way inside the place, and he was watching it. When I tried to open the door with my magic, he peppered the frame with lead. When I lobbed a grenade in, he tossed it right back out with levitation of his own. I knew exactly where he was, and there just wasn’t a good way to get to him without getting shot in the process.

That’s when I remembered the inhaler she had given me. I had fought my fair share of dash users, and they were the only ones that were ever even close to matching me in reflex speed. Hours of scouting raider dens and being around other mercenaries had already taught me everything I needed to know about using the stuff.

I bit down on the mouthpiece, gave the bottle a push, and took a deep breath.

Looking back, that was the exact moment when taking hits of dash became a part of my tactics. I felt a little different, and everything sounded strange and drawn out, but other than that, I didn’t see what the big deal was. Then I tried moving. It was like nothing else I had ever experienced. It felt like I was slow, but when I let the dash inhaler drop, I realized I could wave circles around it with my forehoof and still catch it before it hit the ground. The odds were in my favor again.

Two rounds streaked by me as soon as I charged through the doorway, striking the wall behind me. I wasn’t fast enough to dodge bullets, but with the dash in me, I was definitely fast enough to move out of his line of fire before he could pull the trigger. That didn’t stop him, of course, and the sorry fucker emptied a whole magazine just trying to get me in his sights. By the time he clicked empty, I was point blank, breathing in his face, watching the sweat roll down his forehead as my knife dug into his wind pipe.

And that was it. I got up on the roof and started flashing the laser pointer. She flew down and went right inside without even stopping to check with me first. She was tearing the place apart and throwing around scraps of paper when I went to see what the deal was. She started rambling about treasure, and how it had been burned and used as toilet paper. I vaguely remember saying something about wall safes between fits of laughter, then she started ripping things off the walls, too. The very last thing she defaced was a bookshelf. It wouldn’t budge no matter how hard she hit it, so she started dumping everything off the shelves. The whole time, she was making the worst noise I’ve ever heard, until she found a button built into the thing.

It didn’t look like the raiders had known it was there, because the passage that was behind the bookcase wasn’t decorated with gore and bones. I told her to let me go down first, just to be safe. The passage opened into some kind of safe room that was under the restaurant, and it was full of comic books. There was a cardboard cutout of this blue asshole with a rainbow mane also, and I guessed she was the main character of the comics. Rita had started foaming at the mouth at that point, and I was actively trying to ignore what she was shouting, but the gist of it is that they were comics about one of the Ministry Mares and she was going to die of joy or something stupid.

I asked her where the real treasure was, she looked at me like I was a tap-dancing brahmin.

“This is the treasure!” she shouted.

I told her, “These are just comics,” and she started sputtering and ranting and raving.

She basically said, “Rainbow Dash is the coolest and I’m so gay for her,” which was great I guess.

There were huge fucking stacks of each issue, but she only took one of each. I told her that I figured if she came all the way out there to get them, she might as well take two. She liked that idea and gave me a little peck on the cheek. The last thing she wanted me to do before we left was to seal up the safe room and burn the restaurant down.

I asked why, and she said, “I don’t want anyone else to find them. They won’t appreciate Rainbow Dash like I do.”

“Whatever,” I said.

It was pretty clear that this girl wasn’t all there. A job was a job, though. I asked her about pay, and she said my payment was that I could keep three-fourths of whatever I found. Some of the raiders were carrying some good shit, so I couldn’t complain about that. We headed back into the desert as the restaurant burned behind us, with a cardboard cutout of a Ministry Mare strapped to my back.

~~~|*/\*|~~~

Chapter Four – Technical Difficulties

|[o’o ]|[o8- ]|[(  ) ]|

For the eighth time since settling in, Double Tap banged his head against the bulkhead as Paharita’s tank barreled over a rough patch. In the vaguest sense of things, he knew that they were to the south-west of Maripony. The two century-old piece of wartime tech that the little griffon had salvaged from Old Olneigh had held up for the entire trip around the edge of Splendid Valley, much to Tap’s relief. Once Paharita had been convinced that they were outside of hellhound territory, she spent a few hours working on the engine. For the duration of the trip, Tap had begrudgingly agreed to delay Rita’s dicking in the interest of returning home in a safe and timely manner, but his resolve was wearing thin.

“Oh, shoot…” A hollow, metal sound echoed through the tank, and the little griffon leaned all the way forward, hiking her rump into the air as she reached under a monitor.

The unicorn furrowed his brow, trying to squeeze his flanks and hocks together. “Nope,” he announced, climbing through the interior. “Can’t wait, sorry.”

Tap was already at full mast when she glanced back at him, starry eyed with both shock and excitement. He shuddered, throbbed, and put his forehooves at the base of her wings. Still holding her gaze, he brushed the head of his cock against her slit, feeling her tense.

“H-hey now,” she squawked, a shiver rolling through her, “you said—”

“I say a lot of things.” He put a bit of pressure behind his shaft, feeling her resolve crumble as she started to loosen up. Her wings fanned out a moment later.

Paharita inhaled sharply through her nostrils. “This is a really stupid idea.”

“I don’t see you backing out,” he teased.

“I have to keep my eyes on the road!” she whined, wiggling her haunches anyway.

Tap grinned. “Who said anything about your eyes?” He pushed again, spreading her slowly. She gave a breathless coo and balled her claws. “You just stay right here, and—” An explosion rocked the tank, nearly knocking them both onto their sides. “What the fuck!”

For a split second, Rita looked torn between carrying on and taking up battle stations. She shook herself off with a sigh and a pout, then started tapping away at her PipBuck. Tap glanced from monitor to monitor until he spotted an external feed. The sun had long since come up, the dull sunlight of high noon illuminating a desolate landscape dotted with burnt out homes and a few sickly looking trees. After a few moments of panning, the turret-mounted machine gun sighted a scattering group of five grizzled-looking ponies. At least one of them had fashioned an outfit out of belts and part of a tire.

The corners of Rita’s mouth pulled into a frown. “Oh, look,” she droned. “Your favorite, come to spoil the mood.”

Tap snorted. “So shoot them.”

A stream of lead crackled from the barrel of the remote-controlled gun, clipping one of the raiders as he dove behind a concrete barrier. The image on the monitor blurred as she turned the gun toward another target; a mare with a beat up looking missile launcher rigged up to her saddle. Just as Rita chewed her up with machine-gun fire, a missile shrieked toward the camera. With a flash, the feed was replaced with static.

“Go make them dead,” Rita groaned, pinching her brow. “Please.”

His erection waning, Tap grumbled angrily as he doubled back through the cramped cabin of the tank, putting his hooves on the ladder and climbing up through the turret. Just as he was about to pop the hatch, the sound of hooves on metal drummed overhead. He didn’t even have to stop and think about it to know that he would be climbing out into an ambush.

“They’re on the roof, Rita.”

Her voice was distorted by echoes as she called up to him. “I know juuuust the thing for that! Hold on… Ah!”

A quick succession of pops reached his ears, muffled by the armored hull. It was followed by a much harsher burst of metallic pings and twangs from above. The scramble of hooves was cut short, punctuated by a soft thud.

“Try it now!”

With both pistols out, he released the lock and cracked open the hatch, sweeping his visual sliver of the outside world. The machine gun had been reduced to a twisted heap of smoldering scrap metal. A tattered pony lay just shy of the rim, some of the blood trickling into the turret. The hull was pockmarked with points of impact, but no sign of penetration. It was his guess that the tank was equipped with some sort of anti-personnel defense system for just such an occasion. The hatch creaked as he pushed it up, stepping out into the pale light of day and scanning his surroundings.

A glimmer caught his attention; a bottle tumbling through the air, with a burning rag stuffed in the mouth. He reached out and caught it with his levitation. Before he could lob it back, the bottle shattered around a bullet, its contents whooshing up in a fireball. Tap swept back to avoid getting immolated, kicking the hatch closed before liquid fire could spill inside. Paharita called out to him from within, but he was more interested in spilling blood at that point. A glance to the left revealed the sender. A unicorn wearing a gas mask and some kind of fire suit was readying another molotov. The other two remained unaccounted for.

Before Double Tap could level his pistols, the tank lurched under him, its treads slowly churning up a hill of fragmented concrete. The gas-masked unicorn lobbed another fire bottle, following up by raising a sub-machine gun. Tap squeezed off several rounds as he slipped over the right side of the turret, a few streaks of lead zipping by overhead, the rest bouncing off the tank. Shattering glass and the roar of flame followed.

From cover, he re-evaluated the situation.

Judging by all the signs of life, it was his guess that the surrounding area had been a suburb turned settlement. From the looks of things, that had changed fairly recently. Most of the homes had been reduced to charred wooden frames, some still smoking. His eyes widened as he noticed several blackened corpses that hung from the streetlights. The sight made his blood boil.

He dismounted as the tank rolled past an overturned delivery wagon, tucking in behind it, listening carefully. The distinct beat of hooves stood out under the clattering roar of the tank, passing by his hiding place at a cautious pace. When he peered out, the raider appeared oblivious to his presence, lobbing one molotov at the rear of the tank and readying the next.

Tap broke from cover and crept up behind the gas-masked pony as the next fire bottle floated into throwing position. The bottle jerked, but Tap held it in place with his telekinesis. In that same moment, his magic welled up under the raider’s forehooves, forcing the unicorn to stand on their hind legs. A muffled, startled gasp reached his ears. He slipped a knife between the pony’s flanks, pushed down into the pony’s stomach, and pulled up toward the ribs. The raider’s muffled cry mingled with the heavy sound of blood and viscera spattering out onto the concrete. He stepped around, bucking the unicorn in the breast with enough force to topple it over.

The raider stared back at him, eyes visible through the visor, muffled pleas for mercy worming their way through the mask. Double Tap lowered the molotov to the gaping wound that spanned the pony’s belly.

“Fuck you,” he spat, jamming the bottle into the incision.

He stepped back and lined up his silencer with the bottle, grinning as it exploded into a fireball when he pulled the trigger. The pony let out a gurgling scream, writhing for several seconds before going completely still.

Satisfied, Tap glanced up from his work. The tank hadn’t gotten too much farther away, though it continued to burn in three different places. Thick, black smoke seemed to be pouring out of it as well. Wasting no time, he stepped into a gallop, sprinting toward the armored vehicle and bounding back onto the turret.

“Rita, it’s me!” he shouted down at the hull. “I’m coming down! Don’t kill me!”

A pool of flame had gathered on the left side of the hatch, slowly working on completely covering it. He took a deep breath, condensing his magic to a point, then he released, letting it explode outwards. The force of the gust made the fire lie flat before snuffing it out completely. At the same time, the fire-crisped corpse of the raider that had been perforated by anti-personnel mechanism tumbled over the side. A billowing plume of smoke rushed to meet Tap as he pulled the hatch open. Somewhere inside, Paharita was coughing up a storm.

“What’s going on with this fucking thing?!”

The griffon managed to squawk, “They hit the radiator! Or a vent, or something!” Between coughs, she added, “Whole thing is full of smoke!”

Tap stifled a cough of his own, covering his mouth with a fetlock. “No shit! You’re gonna suffocate in there if you don’t bail out!”

“Noooo! I’m not abandoning this beautiful machine! It’s too valuable!”

“Damn it, Rita…”

The unicorn leaned away from the hatch, inhaling as much fresh air as he could. His cheeks bulging, he descended into the tank, squinting through the smoke. Rita was right where he had left her. He wrapped his forelegs around her and tugged her away from the controls, grunting under her breath as she flailed and squirmed to get free. The rumble of the treads died down as the tank slowed to a stop.

“Come on! Think of all the caps! The caaaps!” She clawed at his fetlocks, causing Tap to grit his teeth. “Let me go!”

With a magical shove and a ruffling of feathers, the griffon sailed out through the hatch. She immediately spread her wings and doubled back in mid-air. Tap lunged to meet her, butting her in the stomach with the back of his head as she tried to glide over him. With the wind knocked out of her, she careened off course and crashed into a shriveled-looking bush. The unicorn dropped over the side of the turret, heaving a deep breath as he lay on his back. His gaze swept over the stinging claw marks in his fetlocks, a few trickles of blood rolling toward his knees. Rita lay curled up, coughing and moaning, not far from where he had landed.

“You fucking feather-brain,” he finally growled. “Just remote control the stupid thing like before!”

“I tried that when it started to fill up with smoke! They probably shorted out the antennas with the fire or the missile or…” She trailed off into a groan, covering her face with her talons. “What am I gonna do? I can’t leave this out here!”

Double Tap looked back to the hulking vehicle, still spewing smoke from the open hatch. “It’s a tank. I don’t think it’s going anywhere. How ‘bout we come back for it once we’ve taken care of Littlepip?”

Paharita turned toward him, sniffling, and gave a tiny nod. “Okay,” she mumbled, slowly rolling back onto her paws.

|[BAR]|[o’o ]|[  7 ]|

For the last few hours, Double Tap had been experiencing a horrible, unshakable feeling that someone—or something—was following him. Paharita’s PipBuck turned up empty each and every time he asked her to check it, and she was starting to shift from playfully sarcastic to irritable. He nervously scanned the rebar-studded horizon of Manehattan as his griffon companion hunched over a lock behind him. A soft, happy coo preceded the rusty sounding grind of a door swinging open. Tap refused to turn around, bumping his haunches against the wall until he finally backed in through the doorway.

“Jeeze, you’re really worked up about your Lucky Lady right now, huh?” Rita grinned as Tap met her gaze, still walking backwards. “What? Did a shadow wink at you wrong or something?”

“It’s not her. This is something else.”

“You made another imaginary friend?” Rita balled her claws, bringing them up under her beak. “Oh boy, does that mean you’ll be twice as crazy now?” Her voice dripped with feigned concern.

“You’re an asshole.” Tap wrapped the door in his magic and slammed it shut. “This is serious. Something has been following us since we ditched the tank.”

Paharita stepped away from him, rummaging through a broken down shop display. Judging by all the softly glowing terminals and computer parts, the door she had lock-picked apparently used to belong to an electronics store.

“Okay,” she murmured as she retrieved a metal cylinder with wire hanging off it. “How is this any different from what you usually see? It’s just faces and smiles, right?”

“No… And fuck you, she’s real, but… When I see her, it’s resi… res…” Tap grunted and put a forehoof to the side of his head, trying to get the word off the tip of his tongue.

“Residual?” the griffon offered.

“It’s an after image.”

Rita grinned smugly around her beak. “Re-sid-u-al.”

“Whatever. She’s not trying to hide from me; she’s just… not there. This is something actively avoiding me.” Tap glanced back to the door, relieved to find it still closed. “I turn around, and I catch glimpses of it. Lady Luck will actually try to get my attention. This thing doesn’t want me to know it’s there.”

“Spooky.” Paharita went back to scavenging, slipping green, plastic rectangles into her pockets. “What do you think it wants?”

“Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s looking for an autograph.”

Silence fell over the room as Rita busied herself with a flickering terminal, looking as though she were trying to pry it open. Double Tap roamed around anxiously, rearing up and craning his neck as he tried to get a glimpse of the world beyond the door through a barricaded window. He jumped as a loud crash reached his ears, spinning around with both pistols leveled. Rita cocked a brow at him as she picked up bits of scrapped electronics off the floor. She had knocked the monitor off the table to crack its case.

“What are we doing in this shithole, anyway? I want to go home. I’m tired and hungry and I smell awful.”

The griffon waggled her talons dismissively. “Oh, stop complaining. You always smell awful.” Tap’s gaze sharpened into a glare at that. Rita snickered and went back to rummaging. “I’m looking for components to fix the antenna array on the tank. I think I have most of what I need back at the shop, but I’m getting a few bits and bobs here just to make sure.”

Tap snorted and turned back to the window. “Are we gonna be here much longer?”

“Nuh-uh! All done!” Rita fluttered to his side, smiling up at Tap as he glanced down at her. She put her claw on the door handle. “I’m pretty hungry too. Let’s get going.”

He nodded, rearing up to take another look outside and make sure the coast was clear.

A single, whitish-blue eye stared back at him, the pupil expanding. For what felt like an eternity to Tap, time seemed to stand still. He became a statue in that seemingly endless pause, unblinking, unmoving. The eye and its owner held his gaze, frozen in time just like he was. Rita made some kind of sound. It may have been a question, or an exclamation, but Tap couldn’t be sure. Her voice broke the tension, and the blue eye on the other side of that barricaded window blinked.

All hell was about to break loose.

Paharita let out a dry squawk as Tap threw himself sideways, knocking her clear of the window. The hairs of his tail had just cleared the windowsill when the boards exploded inward. Long, sharp claws shredded right through. Before either he or the griffon under him had hit the ground, he had both pistols at the ready, pulling the triggers in alternation. The paw withdrew as the windowsill was torn up with gunfire. The pair slid a short distance after touching down. He could feel Rita’s heart pounding in her breast, her chest fitfully rising and falling as she hyperventilated.

Without warning Rita first, he focused his magic on himself, building enough pressure to push. He braced against the kick as he released, sliding to the far side of the room with his companion. The Punchline was loaded and ready by the time they came to a stop.

“Stealth buck,” he whispered. Rita trembled, barely managing a whimper in response. “When I get up, you use a fucking stealth buck and find somewhere to hide, got it?” With another whimper, he felt her nod. “Good. Ready?” Her claws wrapped around him, squeezing tightly as she shook her head. “You can do this. That thing is after me, not you. Now, on the count of three… one… two…”

A crumbling sound rattled up from below the floor. Rita had already let go of him to fish out a stealth buck. The word “three” never came to his lips. Instead, his magic coalesced under them, leveraging as much force as he could. In a heartbeat, he had shoved himself straight to the ceiling, all four hooves making contact, kicking off and twisting back toward the ground. Rita had been thrown across the room by the push, which was a relief for him. The very spot on which they had been lying dropped into a sinkhole, ushered by a set of razor sharp claws. He caught a glimpse of a canine muzzle snarling up at him from the darkness of the pit.

The resounding crack of the Punchline split the air as he pulled the trigger. Once again, it flew out of his magical grasp, bouncing off the ceiling and out of his sight. He followed up with the Comedies, unloading into the sinkhole as gravity pulled him back to the floor. Two empty magazines and a downpour of shell casings hit the floor with him. Rita was nowhere to be seen as he pulled back the slides.

It wasn’t until he had finished reloading that he began to wonder if a single shot had hit his target. He hadn’t heard any yelping, and he couldn’t hear any more burrowing. Contrary to his racing heart, the air had gone still again. He tossed one of his remaining grenades into the pit for good measure. A muffled explosion shook the shop, followed by complete silence. Tap waited, ears constantly swiveling. A sharp zap-like sound made him jump. Above him, Rita had curled up on a fluorescent light fixture hanging from the ceiling.

“Is it safe?” she whispered after a few minutes.

Tap lowered his pistols. “You tell me.”

“Uh…” Rita busied herself with her PipBuck. “EFS is all clear… But, do you… you know.”

“Do I what?” He took a few steps closer to the hole, trying to peer into it without getting too close. Not a speck of blood, he mused.

The griffon frowned, tapping the side of her head. “Do you have a feeling or something? Is it still around?”

“No, I think she’s gone.”

“She?”

“She was at Old Olneigh last night…” After a moment of hesitation, Double Tap holstered his pistols. “Never seen a hellhound track somepony this far beyond their territorial boundaries before.”

Paharita glided to the floor, practically pressing against him as she stood at his side. Tap snickered to himself as he led her to the front of the shop, looking through the freshly unbarred window. He spotted the Punchline to the left of the door, snagging it with his levitation. Rita snatched it out of the air and began to inspect it with trembling claws.

“Anyway, let’s get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to wait around any longer and risk that bitch getting back her nerve.”

With Rita still clinging to him like a shadow, they cautiously stepped back out into the muted glow of sunset.

|[ /_\ ]|[  7 ]|[  7 ]|

And a left here...

Double Tap was familiar enough with the ruins of Manehattan that, even at night, he could navigate them without Rita’s assistance. He had convinced Paharita to split up in the interest of shaking their mutant canine tail, and with minimal suggestion on his part. The griffon took to the skies while Tap did his best to make any attempts at following him extremely difficult. He had been at it for roughly an hour, and though he bolstered his strength with the occasional huff of dash, exhaustion was beginning to set in.

He panted quietly through his nose as he barreled down a cluttered alley, sights set on the rusty fire escape near its end. The ancient metal creaked under him as he ascended, climbing to the top of a mostly intact apartment complex. From there, he could see for several blocks around. Tenpony Tower loomed in the distance.

Everything blurred for a moment, followed by a feeling of dizziness that left the unicorn disoriented. He shook himself off, putting a dash inhaler to his lips and taking a small hit. The world slowed to a crawl as his vision focused, its edges sharper, its sounds more crisp and distinct. He slipped the inhaler back into its pouch and rolled his head, stretching his legs and back, savoring the razor edge of the amphetamine rush as it seeped into every part of his body. The world returned to normal speed soon after, but the feeling of sharpness remained.

Tap bounced on his hooves several times, then broke into a gallop, heading straight for the edge of the building. He left the rooftop behind as he leapt across the alley, touching down on the adjacent roof and continuing at full speed. The next building had no roof: a few intact sections of the third floor were exposed by missing chunks of wall. Tap heaved himself forward, bracing for impact as he aimed for the half collapsed structure. A light jolt of pain ran up his forelegs the instant his hooves struck exposed concrete. His momentum carried. He tucked his head and hind legs against his body, curling up as tightly as he could. His hinds pounded against the floor in unison, launching him forward as he stretched his forelegs ahead of himself.

A tall, slightly less collapsed building lay beyond the remains of the far wall. He jumped as high as he could, his hinds kicking against the wall, pushing himself two steps higher. His forehooves slammed down on the broken ridge at the top, and he scrambled up. Most of the windows had been blown out centuries ago, which meant Tap had a clear path as he lunged. Cubicles, overturned desks, and cracked computer terminals filled the interior.

Take a right…

Something hissed and growled nearby, but he ignored it and kept running, weaving through the dusty office and turning sharply. A radio tower of some sort had toppled over from the building across the street, cleaving right into the office. Double Tap repurposed the metal lattice as a bridge. He felt it ping and shudder under his hooves as he sprinted across. Tenpony Tower now lay directly ahead of him, an elevated train line running parallel to his course.

An explosion lit up the night, rocking the building he was running on seconds before he jumped to the next. He veered toward the edge as he kept moving, catching a glimpse of power armor-wearing ponies. Further ahead, he spotted more power armor, though the second group had painted their equipment. Several shrieking rockets cut through the air from behind him, striking one of the painted armor ponies and erupting into a rolling fireball. The painted armor group replied with the heavy thump of a grenade machine-gun.

Are they fighting with each other? Come on you tech-fucking whack-jobs, lightbulbs can’t be that scarce!

In less than a minute, the firefight was little more than a series of booming echoes. He was steadily closing in on the workshop. Tap slowed, slipped over the edge of a building, and slid down the walls of a narrow alley. The unicorn waited for several seconds once he had reached the ground. He felt completely alone. Content with that, he peered out of the alley, his gaze sweeping over the street.

A pack brahmin, a trader, and several merchants slowly marched away from Tenpony, loaded down with goods. Judging by the frustrated scowl on the trader’s face, Tap assumed Red Eye’s blockade was still up around the tower. He doubted Paharita would be willing to bribe the guards again, which meant they would be sleeping in the workshop. He waited until they had passed, then swiftly moved down the street.

When Tap passed the spot where he had killed the manticore, he noticed that its carcass was completely absent, bones and all. The only evidence that it had been there was the enormous, discolored spot where its blood had soaked into the ground, and the fire pit. He grumbled in frustration and kept moving, slowing down as he approached the alley which led to the workshop. A few blocks away, Tenpony Tower rose above the remains of Manehattan, illuminated against the rolling grey of the night sky.

Once he was finished admiring the pretty lights, Tap did a quick sweep of his surroundings, making sure he wasn’t being watched. He repeated the motion several times before entering their alley, approaching the rolling steel door at the end. After several failed attempts to remember the password for the terminal, he began to knock. No less than eight metal panels on the walls and floor of the alley slid open in unison, the barrels of turrets extending toward him. Tap held his breath as they beeped and clicked for several seconds.

“Knock-Knock,” he finally announced. “I kinda live here. I’d like to come in.”

Another long wait passed before the turrets retracted, the door rolling up soon after. He cocked his head as he noticed all the robots standing around Rita. She murmured something from their epicenter.

Tap took a few steps closer, unsure of what to make of the situation. “Uh?”

The little griffon looked up and pointed a talon at the enormous security robot that had been out gathering their illegitimate spoils. It looked to have been dented by gunfire in multiple spots, the black residue of an explosion smeared over a telltale crater in the robot’s chest.

With a deep bass rumble, the robot stated, “During our mission to retrieve supplies, we came under attack. All hostiles were eliminated with extreme prejudice, but we suffered a casualty in the process. Sir Handy, brother of Sir Gutsy, has fallen.”

Peering around the rolling security robot, he noticed the frame and most of the legs of one of the floating spider bots laid out across the floor. Rita sat beside it, completely silent. The other metal spider hovered beside her, a claw across her back. He opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it.

Feeling thoroughly put-off by the whole display, Double Tap turned toward the fridge. A pile of crates, sacks, and duffle bags had been deposited on the rug. He immediately changed course.

The contents of the containers in question were the standard fare of merchants, or at least, the standard fare of merchants that would be trading with mercenaries. Tap had no interest in the combat armor or helmets, and the majority of the weapons were incompatible with his tactics or vastly inferior to the equipment already at his disposal. The grenades quickly found a new home in his pockets. He was pleased to find a spool of metal wire amongst the more random junk. Lastly, Tap rummaged through a bag full of sloppily packaged food and drinks in dirty looking bottles. His levitation condensed around a slab of grilled meat and a bottle of absinthe.

From the couch, he watched as Paharita went to work on the security bot, the spider bot waiting patiently nearby. With care and precision, she removed the robot’s outer hull, examining the churning network of metal and circuitry within. Tap lifted the fillet to his lips, sinking his teeth in and tearing off a chunk.

Radigator, he mused to himself. Must be from Arbu. Maybe Rita can program Gutsy to cook like... oh fuck, I still need to get Skimmer a birthday present. Uh... No, she won’t like any of this shit.

He chased the savor of barbecue with a swig of absinthe, relieved that the two went well together. The brain-bot rolled by, case flashing as it hummed quietly to itself. Tap found that especially eerie. It began checking through the bag Tap had last opened, dragging it toward the fridge a moment later, where it began transferring the bag’s contents onto the shelves. His eyes widened as he watched the robot lift a bottle of grain alcohol out of the bag, stowing it in the freezer; its stay would be short lived.

Maybe Rita has some paint brushes lying around in the basement. Skimmer loves to paint. While chomping down the rest of his radigator, he tried to remember what was down there. Every attempt came up blank. Wouldn’t hurt to check.

A small console with two buttons had been affixed to the wall next to the hatch. Tap shouldered the green one and the hatch leading down to the basement opened with a pneumatic hiss. He descended into a dimly lit abyss that smelled strongly of mothballs. Gradually, his eyes adjusted, allowing him to search through Paharita’s collection of Ministry Mare related junk.

Some of the items she simply assumed, or was told, were once in the possession of a Ministry Mare. There were hundreds of tooth brushes, combs, and pieces of clothing for that very reason. Others items bore the likenesses of the Ministry Mares themselves. A cardboard cutout of the blue Ministry Mare caught his eye, giving him reason to pause as he briefly reminisced.

At the very back of the room, an enormous chest freezer sat between a generator, a fuse box, and a few other terminals that he didn’t fully comprehend. He doubted he would miraculously find the perfect gift inside the freezer, but he was running out of options. A rush of cold air swirled to meet him as he lifted the top back. Aside from a few bottles of whiskey he had been saving for a rainy day, there was nothing new. A set of panicked eyes gave him the same old terrified stare. Several beads of blood had rolled out of the bullet wound in the pony’s forehead before freezing, glistening like rubies.

Good old Freezer Corpse. He leaned closer, noticing a pair of sun glasses folded up on the pony’s kevlar vest, just under where the word “Tenpony” had been stitched into the fabric. I was wondering where those went! He levitated them into his bandoleer, then patted the frozen security guard on the breast and closed the lid. Thanks buddy.

Rita was still busy tinkering with the immense security robot near the center of the room when Tap came back to the surface. She had lowered her blast goggles and rolled up both her sleeves, reaching toward the hovering spider without looking away from the security bot’s internals. The hovering spider handed her a blow torch, and she went right to work. He realized that he probably wouldn’t get to live up to his promise of punishing her that evening. The alternative to boning his companion was sleeping.

With mild disappointment Tap grabbed the absinthe, put the mouth of the bottle to his lips, and began to chug. It was empty in less than a minute. He belched as a fuzzy feeling spread through him, like fire radiating in his stomach. Of course, he was looking for more than just a buzz. The brain-bot stopped humming as he levitated the empty bottle in what he assumed was its face, waiting for the robot to take it from him. With that taken care of, he opened the freezer and retrieved the grain alcohol. Instead of returning to the couch, he headed for the bed. The bottle bounced against the ancient mattress as he clumsily slipped out of his clothes, the absinthe starting to catch up with him.

Tap yawned and stretched, looking over at Rita again. She was still busy with the security bot, hunched over  and focused on whatever it was she was doing. The unicorn sighed and flopped onto the bed, feeling around for the bottle and snagging it with his magic. The first few swigs didn’t hit him at first, but about a quarter of the way through the bottle, his whole face lit up, the room rolling and spinning. A wonderful tingling sensation sprang up across his sheath, sending a shiver through him. His mind began to flood with memories; sights and smells of sexual conquests past.

He sluggishly rolled onto his back, slipping a forehoof hoof down his belly, nudging and prodding until he felt cold air around the head of his cock. With a wide grin and one last ray of hope, he glanced over at where Rita had been standing, hoping she would notice his growing erection and come running. She briefly glanced up at him, then went right back to what she was doing.

“Fuckin’ robots!” he loudly proclaimed, putting the mouth of the bottle back to his lips.

|[o’o ]|[BAR]|[(  ) ]|

Three things greeted Double Tap when he woke up.

The first was a steady rhythm of pounding drums and tambourines. A lady spoke over the percussion in a language he didn’t understand. Moments after she had finished talking, the heavy purr of a bass guitar rasped out of Paharita’s speakers.

The second was the glistening, pink ravine of a pussy. He didn’t have to look twice to know it belonged to Paharita. He spent a moment admiring the haunches, hips, and tight little star that accompanied it. A few milky beads of cum dripped onto his throat as Paharita shivered, tickling his nose with the tuft of her tail.

The third and final thing that came to his immediate attention was pressure around the head of his cock, joined by the occasional, gentle tug. He could feel the edges of her beak, but she was an expert, using the soft, feathery corner of her mouth, her long tongue steadily rolling along his shaft. He bucked his hips impulsively, pulsing in her oral grasp.

Paharita shuddered again, a warm breath rolling against his ridge as she moaned quietly. It was an open invitation if he’d ever seen one, and he wasted no further time. She moaned again, much more loudly, as he pushed his tongue into her snatch, making a full pass from south to north. He slathered the pearl of her clit with all the arousal he had gathered, circling several times before pressing in on it with the tip of his tongue. The griffon squirmed all the while, bobbing her head faster, digging her talons into his hind legs.

Double Tap nickered breathlessly and retaliated, pursing his lips to suck on her clit. It was sloppy, and a little clumsy, but Rita began to trill and groan, pushing her hips back against his face. His tongue undulated relentlessly, lapping in waves as he did his best to keep her sweet spot between his lips. Every sound she made reverberated through his cock, tension steadily mounting at the base, around his sheath. He released her clit for a moment, slipping his tongue further north and sliding it as deep into her as he could.

Gasping, he snorted into her, drawing a damp breath as he ground his face against her pussy. His nose and chin were drenched in the process, sticky with a mix of her juices and his saliva, but the smell of her nethers was one that he deeply enjoyed. Paharita responded with warbling cries for more, all of which were uttered around his throbbing length. He was happy to oblige, groaning into her, reaching with his tongue until it felt sore. All the while, he ran his fetlocks along her underside, her nipples perking up to his touch.

A light sweat had built up between them by the time Tap was nearing climax. Rita’s feathers clung to his coat as their bodies pressed and slid against each other. A few drops of salty water from Tap’s forehead stung his eye until he blinked them away. He could feel the griffon’s haunches tremble, growing weak with a combination of sexual bliss and physical strain. Because she had gotten a head start, however, he knew he was going to finish first. Tap held his breath and thought about something else. Try as he might to stem the rising tide of euphoria, the temptation to give one final thrust was too great, and he erupted into Paharita’s mouth.

Overcome with an orgasmic convulsion, he fell away from her, head flopping down against a pillow. Soft, muffled giggling reached his ears a moment later. Rita continued to nurse his erection, drawing every last glob of spunk out of him, her throat rolling as she gulped it all down. When she finally let him go, she gave a pleasant sigh and started to dismount.

“Don’t you want me to finish you off?”

Rita craned her neck back, peering at him over the curve of her left haunch. “Do you want me to want you to finish me off?”

The unicorn snickered, took a deep breath, and went right back to work. Rita swooned, massaging his inner flanks as he worked his jaw. Her breaths grew shorter and sharper, her legs starting to shake again, and he moved in for the kill. His tongue began to circle again, slowly at first, searching for the right combination of speed and force. Without his dick in her mouth, her breathy moans were much louder, but mostly unintelligible beyond “don’t stop!”

As she came closer and closer to cumming, he favored broader, rougher strokes over using the tip of his tongue, centering her clit and slowly dragging. The near-musical sound of her passionate trilling filled the air, broken up by gasps. She pushed back, nearly smothering him with her cunt as she locked up, letting loose with one long, happy moan. The little griffon tumbled off of Tap without any further fanfare, and he rolled to meet her, nuzzling into the side of her neck as she wrapped a foreleg around him.

“Good morning to you, too,” Tap teased.

After a few minutes of post-climax cuddling, they got up and headed for the bathroom.

“So what’s the plan here?” he asked as she squeezed toothpaste onto her toothbrush. “Are we gonna do the Ranger contract?”

“I actually had a few things I wanted to take care of first.”

“Yeah, alright.”  He levitated his own toothbrush to his teeth and started swishing it around. Moments later, he spat a mouthful of foam into the sink. “I’m gonna keep my eyes open, though. I don’t think we should let this slide for too long.”

|[(  ) ]|[(  ) ]|[(  ) ]|

Once again, a bizarre ritual was unfolding before Double Tap. He couldn’t be certain if it was just Paharita being eccentric, or if he was the odd one for failing to see the point. Regardless, there Handy was, welded back together and laid out ceremoniously on the cabinets in the back. Rita stood near the center of the table, the other robots standing on either side of her, all of them looking down in silence.

At the end of the lineup, the brain-bot's case lit up. A moment later, it focused a laser at the wick of its candle. The bot proceeded to touch the flame from its candle to its neighbors', until the line was illuminated in flickering firelight.

“Sir Handy was a good friend,” Rita began, “and a brother, not just to Sir Gutsy, but to all of us. He was one of the first robots I had ever come across in Equestria, and he came with me all the way from Fillydelphia. He was a kind and gentle soul, always eager to please and assist whenever possible. He even saved my life on a few occasions. For those of you that needed convincing to join my cause, it was his programming that I used as a template. In a way, even though he was damaged beyond backup, he is still very much with us through all of you. Let us never forget his sacrifice. Praise be to the Ministry Mares. Amen.”

“Amen,” repeated all the robots in unison.

A soft, mechanical, but undeniably mournful tune followed, hummed in harmony by all the robots present. Rita attempted to join in, horribly out of key. After a minute of strange humming, the group all squeezed out their flames and went silent.

Rita clapped her claws together and looked up. “Alright! That was fun! Disassemble him and organize the components with the rest of the spare parts.”

Double Tap choked on a mouthful of radigator. The griffon pranced toward the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of Sparkle Cola and a hunk of meat.

“C’mon,” she sang, “we’re going shopping!”

The unicorn’s jaw went slack. “Shopping.”

“Well yeah, silly, I need to get a new robot!”

He sighed, shook his head, and slipped off the couch. As he passed by the dresser, he levitated a plain outfit out of one of the drawers; one that he had picked up at Shattered Hoof some time ago. The blue jacket read “SHCF” across the back, and the undershirt had black powder stains smudged into it. After pulling it on, and slipping into his holsters and bandolier, he nodded to Rita and stepped up to the front door.

Based on the light level outside, he assumed the time to be approaching noon. The door rattled closed behind them, and they set out. Flapping beside him, Rita hungrily tore into the meat she had grabbed from the refrigerator. He wasn’t entirely sure it was cooked, or even what animal it came from. She washed it down with soda, tossed the bottle aside, and gave a tiny little belch.

“So you’re just going to buy a replacement,” he flatly stated as they approached the end of the alley.

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when something breaks?”

“Yeah, but you just gave that robot a funeral.” They stopped just shy of the street, sticking close to the walls. “And I don’t even want to get into how you ordered them to take it apart.”

Paharita cocked her head, tapping at her PipBuck. “What’s your point, then?”

“I dunno…” Tap glanced to Rita and recieved a nod. He peered around the corner anyway, his gaze sweeping up and down the street. “Shouldn’t there be a mourning period or something?”

“Yeah, we just did that!”

Seeing that the coast was clear, Tap stepped out into the open, Rita fluttering close behind.

 “No, I… nevermind. Where are we going, anyway?”

“Tenpony Tower,” she answered.

The unicorn cocked a brow. “What about the blockade?”

Paharita sighed dramatically. “I guess we’ll just have to pay the toll, since whatever Red Eye’s guys are doing at the tower is so important. I would say we could go get one from the Steel Rangers at Bucklyn Cross, but I doubt they’ll let go of one of their robots if I don’t have another toy to trade for it.” Her expression soured, forehead crinkling. “Just think what they might have traded for that tank!”

They traveled in silence for a while after that, listening to the cracks and rumbles of distant warfare. Every so often, Tap would check over his wither, just to be sure their new canine friend wasn’t following them. He figured his intentions were pretty obvious, because every time he looked back, Rita would immediately start clicking away at her PipBuck to check her EFS compass. For some reason, he found that flattering.

“Does she have a name?” Paharita asked, as they came within sight of the base of the tower.

A few dirty looking foals ran across their path, laughing to themselves. An equally filthy mare chased them, demanding that they listen to her.

“Does who have a name?”

“The hellhound from yesterday.”

“What kind of…” The unicorn stopped for a moment, trying to get his head around what was being asked of him. “I don’t know, Rita! I’m sure she does, but we didn’t really take time getting to know each other.”

“You should give her a name, so that way we can identify her and stuff!”

“Oh wow…” He took a deep breath, exhaling with a chuckle. “Okay, fine. We’ll call her Fuckles.”

“Fu...” Paharita’s eyes widened, and she covered her beak with her claws, shaking her head. “I think you should call her Leaf Marine!”

“Leaf Marine.” Tap gave her a sideways glance as she nodded excitedly. “How about… The Brutalizer.”

“Ooooh! Yes! I like it!”

“Great. Now that we’ve named something that wants to kill us...” He trailed off as he noticed a pair of ponies that had set up a stand at the base of one of the Luna Line’s struts. They were selling manticore meat, and several of Red Eye’s soldiers had gathered around to buy.

“Huh.”

Paharita cocked her head. “Huh? What’s huh?”

Double Tap winced as he felt like someone had bucked him in the back of the skull, lifting a fetlock to the side of his head. His vision blurred as he tried to focus on the cracks in the cement. All signs pointed to a monster of a hangover. He took a hit of dash, but it didn’t numb the pain.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, squinting. “Hey, how long is this going to take?”

“Not tooo long. I just have to do a few things for a few ponies, and then I should have a shiny new-used robot lickety-split!”

The unicorn winced again, clenching his jaw. “Yeah. I’m just gonna wait at the bar.”

Paharita gave a nod, taking a few steps toward the edge of Red Eye’s camp.

The motion within was fairly casual; the soldiers didn’t seem to be doing much of anything beyond milling around aimlessly. None of them even took notice of Tap or Rita until the pair was just about in the thick of them. At that point, the soldiers readied their weapons and put on their intimidating faces. Tap was in no mood for any of it, returning their glares with a dead stare. They seemed to relax as Rita held up a bag of caps.

“We would like to go inside the tower, pretty-pretty please!”

“Oh, it’s you two again,” replied one of the slavers. “Yeah, let them through I guess.”

With a pleasant smile, Rita continued on, Tap shambling along behind her. She slowed at the other side of the camp and motioned to the security checkpoint at the main entrance of Tenpony Tower. Tap spent a moment going over his inventory, making sure he was satisfied with the equipment he was carrying. Whatever he didn’t think he needed, he gave to Paharita. When he was satisfied, he cast a light dampening spell on his horn.

“Are we doing the bag routine,” Tap murmured, “or spaghetti hooves?”

“The bag one,” she whispered.

He nodded and got behind the griffon, preparing for an exercise in sleight of hoof.

There were four guards at the checkpoint. The unicorn guard smiled as Rita approached, his expression fading as he noticed Tap following her. Shortly after they exchanged hellos, his horn began to glow, highlighting the various nine millimeter magazines and grenades she had on her. Tap knew that one of the more important parts of smuggling ammunition into the tower was to let the guards take a few things, luring them into a false sense of security. For that reason, every piece of live ammunition that Rita was carrying would be confiscated.

“Oh, darn,” Rita grumbled as she put her claws to her satchel. To an unpracticed eye, it would seem like she was struggling with the zipper, when in reality, she was forcing the teeth to jam. The other guards perked up, but stayed put. “I’m so-so-so sorry, mister guard sir; the zipper is stuck!”

Tap managed to keep a straight face as the unicorn guard took the bait, stepping away from his post and approaching the griffon. She turned, her wings unfolding in the process, and he followed until his back was to Tap. With Rita’s feathery screen up, all three of them were effectively concealed. As far as Tap was concerned, at that point, the trick was knowing not to push his luck. Two magazines was a humble gamble, made marginally more risky by the grenade planned on smuggling in with them. The magazines were easy enough to slip into the guard’s armor, since they resembled the magazines the guard was already carrying. The grenade, however, was a bit trickier. Very, very carefully, he slipped it into a pocket on the guard’s armored barding, breathing a sigh of relief as the guard failed to notice.

The entire exchange had taken place in half a minute at the most, and the other guards had only just begun to get suspicious. Paharita dropped her wings back to her sides when Tap clicked his teeth, signaling a successful reverse-pickpocket. Not long after that, the guard managed to get the zipper open with Rita’s help, gathering up all her still-glowing hardware and depositing it in a lock-box. She stepped through the checkpoint, said goodbye, and made her way inside. Tap snickered to himself as the guard stepped up to him next. He forked over his pistols and watched as they were unloaded.

“No funny business from you,” the guard sternly ordered.

Tap re-holstered his empty pistols, pushing past the guard. “Yeah, sure thing.”

He entered Tenpony proper just in time to watch Rita vanish around a corner. The guards at the checkpoint had gathered together, watching him from the other side of the revolving door. One of them pointed his way, and they all broke into a fit of laughter. The urge to stomp back out and buck their teeth in was overwhelming, but he resisted. If he wanted to recover his grenade and mags, he would need to wait for the unicorn that searched him to get off duty so that he could steal it all back before the guard could reach the armory. Worst case scenario, he would lose easily replaceable equipment.

Several ponies in fancy dresses and suits were staring at him when he turned his attention back to the fancy hallway, all of them regarding him with expressions twisted by disgust. He gave them a big, toothy grin, then spat on the floor before continuing on his way. It was a fairly straight shot to the bar. He stepped into the elevator, ignored the other passengers, and got out on the appropriate floor. The sound of merriment was mostly hushed as he walked into the Crystal Ball Lounge, the regulars looking away, the travelers carrying on oblivious, or asking why the room had suddenly gone quiet.

Double Tap took his usual seat at the bar, propping his head up with a fetlock. Foam, the bartender, regarded him as one might regard an insect.

“You look like shit.” Foam grinned, setting down the glass she had been polishing. “Where’s your griffon friend? Aren’t you two attached at the hip?”

He glared back at her. “Just give me something to drink, you cunt. Something strong.”

Foam tilted her head, putting her forehooves on the counter. “Do you have the caps to pay for something strong?”

“I... uh...” Tap looked away, feeling mildly humiliated by the display the bartender was putting on. Rita had all the caps. “Can’t you put it on Rita’s tab or something?”

“What a stupid thing to say! How can I put something on somepony’s tab if they aren’t here?” She leaned over the bar, grinning. “Get out of my bar, you scar covered fuck.”

Double Tap took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He was across the bar and on top of Foam before she knew what was happening. The bartender barely managed to choke out a noise as he hammered her teeth down her throat. Several patrons screamed. He kept battering her face in even as he heard security drawing their weapons from the doorway.

-0-

He opened his eyes and shook off the daydream, grinding his hooves against the bar. Just as he was about to turn and leave, a small stack of caps clattered down in front of him.

“Make it two drinks,” a girlish voice said from behind him.

When Tap turned around to tell the mare that he wasn’t anypony's charity case, the words died in his throat. The voice belonged a tiny unicorn, and at first, he mistook her for a filly. Sharply contrasting her stature, her eyes looked like they belonged to a pony three times her age. He knew her face.

A bomb went off in the back of his mind. Alarms sounded, telling him to run, but his body wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t even look away. Double Tap sat there, transfixed and horrified, as the pint sized unicorn took the seat next to him.

Foam, with resentment smoldering on her face, dropped glasses in front of both of them and poured the drinks. The mare picked up the glass in her levitation field and tossed it back, dumping the contents down her throat. She immediately gagged and banged her foreleg against the counter, scratching the polished wood with her PipBuck.

“Celestia’s molten monthly menses,” she choked out. “I thought you were ordering a drink, not paint thinner! Can I get something a touch on the lighter side?”

As Foam poured another, more brightly colored drink, the little mare donned a sheepish smile. “I’m not much of a drinker. In fact, I really shouldn’t drink at all, but you won’t be telling anyone, will you?”

Tap was barely aware that he shook his head.

The mare took up her new glass in her magic field and sipped at it, her smile becoming more relaxed. “You know, you really need to pick your fights better.” Tap’s mouth felt like it was full of wool; he nodded, still locked up with panic. “I mean, you gotta know when you just aren’t gonna win.”

She took another sip, a ruddy color was coming to her cheeks already. “And did you really think it’d be that hard to find your griffon pal?” The unicorn tapped her chin in thought. ”Rita, right? Can’t be too many griffons in this place. I’ll bet you I could track her down in minutes.”

Tap thought of his bullets, still strapped to a security pony by the gate, and all of the knives and explosives stashed in his room upstairs. His eyes frantically darted around the bar, searching for anything sharp, anything he could throw, or at the very least, something he could inflict a wound with to buy him time to escape.

“What are you giving me that look for?” The mare slurred a little, leaning towards him. “Oh.” She inhaled sharply and put a hoof to her forehead, her face crimson. “Right. Oh, Luna, fuck me sideways.”

She cleared her throat and put her hooves in her lap. “I want you to understand, I just bought you a drink because you looked like you needed it.” She looked him hard in the eyes, “But we’re not gonna go down that road. So why don’t you just drink your drink,” she tapped him on the knee and leaned in to whisper, “and keep your... pistol holstered.”

Tap rattled his glass against the bar as he struggled to wrap his magic around it, nearly spilling it as he shakily lifted. He threw the amber contents at his mouth, most of it landing on the dry slab of his tongue. When he swallowed, he felt like he was taking the shot glass with it.

“There you go,” the little unicorn said with a laugh.

She took another sip of her drink and put down another few caps in front of Tap. Foam scraped the caps across the bar and into her register before pouring another shot.

“Life is unfair,” the mare said, staring into her mostly empty glass. “It’ll force you into a family and, if you’re lucky, you might meet someone who will put up with you. Sometimes, you’ll catch a glimpse of a little something called happiness. And then...”

She downed the last of her drink. “It’s not your fault. Not all of it anyway. But you’re still going to have to deal with it.” She gave him a sad little smile. “Even if you haven’t got a chance in hell.”

She pushed herself off the barstool and onto shaky legs. “See, this is why I really shouldn’t drink. I can’t shut up.” She laughed and tipped to the side, all but falling against the bar. “Anyway, drink up, smile big, show your girl a good time.” Littlepip’s face was crimson as she gave him a wink.

“After all, you’re not dead yet.”

|[OUT]|[OF ]|[ODR]|

Chapter 5 - Context Sensitive

Chapter Five – Context Sensitive

|[  7 ]|[o’o ]|[(  ) ]|

The moment Littlepip had drunkenly staggered out of the bar, Double Tap was off like a shot. His mind reeled as he galloped down the hall as fast as his legs would carry him. He scrambled around a corner, maintaining his momentum by rebounding off an elderly mare. She tumbled on impact and screamed something about her hip as he left her in the dust.

Rita. Gotta find Rita. She’s probably at the market. He swallowed dryly, eyes darting as he weaved through the crowded hallway. Gotta get outta here. No time to gear up. Gotta—Oh shit.

Tap involuntarily skidded to a stop as he found himself just about face to face with a rust-colored pegasus wearing a stetson. He immediately recognized the winged stallion from the Steel Ranger file. Several moments of eye contact and awkward silence followed as Tap frantically tried to remember how to use his legs. Calamity cocked a brow as Tap stepped around him. They continued to hold each other’s gaze while Tap backpedaled for several paces. The pegasus snickered, shook his head, and continued on his way. Tap kept walking backward until he bumped into another pony, rearing up in shock and coming inches from breaking a startled stallion’s nose. With a dismissive snort, Tap returned to all fours and stepped back into a gallop.

A minute of galloping later, the hall opened into an enormous, multi-level foyer, the walls decorated with intricately curled neon and carefully arranged shop windows. He knew exactly where to start looking. Ordinarily, Tap would have a hard time leaving merchandise on the shelves, but his priorities were elsewhere. The keeper of the electronics shop looked none too pleased to see Tap barreling down the aisles.

“I thought I told you not to come back here!”

Nose to nose with the portly earth pony, he demanded, “Has Paharita come through here?!”

“Yes, she was here a few minutes ago. I asked her to fetch me some paint thinner from Offal.”

Double Tap already had two hooves out of the room by the time the owner had finished speaking. He sprinted across the foyer to the general store, receiving a smile when the bubbly mare behind the register met his frenzied gaze. Offal started giggling when he slammed his forehooves on the counter and leaned toward her.

“Woah, woah! Hold on now, big guy!” She grinned, lidding her eyes and nudging her mane with a fetlock. “You’re gonna have to wait till I’m closed for the night before I can—”

“Rita? Need to find Rita!”

“Not in the mood for ponies today, huh?” The mare’s cheerful expression soured with a sigh. “She was just in here. I asked her to check and see if Sherry is willing to stop hoarding her wine. Come back when you feel like…”

The scarred unicorn was already out of earshot, shoving gawking ponies out of the way as he shot toward the wine and spirits vendor. The shop appeared to be completely empty. He danced in place, his gaze sweeping over the racks of centuries-old alcohol.

“Griffon!” he finally barked from the entrance.

The griffon in question poked her head out from behind a curtain in the back of the store. “Yello!”

“Rita, she knows!” Tap started his charge, the bottles rattling on their shelves as he passed. “She knooows!”

A snobby-looking mare stepped out from behind the curtain, nose to the ceiling. “I most certainly do! Paharita is more than welcome here, but you are absolutely not!”

Sherry attempted to block his path. Tap shouldered her into a shelf of white wine and kept going.

From behind, he heard her wail, “Guards!” 

“Jeeze-louize,” Rita squawked as Tap slid to a stop, “what’s got your reins in a knot?”

“Assault!”

“Littlepip,” he gasped. “She confronted me in the bar, and—”

“Battery!”

Paharita’s eyes lit up. “Ohmigosh you met Littlepip? Did you get her autograph?” She balled her talons, shaking them excitedly as she bobbed up and down. “Is she still there?!”

“Help!”

“No! Stop talking!” He clamped her beak shut, sparing a quick glance over his shoulder. A crowd had formed out in front of the shop. He leaned closer and lowly growled, “She knows we got hired to kill her and we need to get the fuck out of here right now.”

The little griffon did not seem the least bit deterred, her eyes still sparkling with glee. Tap made a noise somewhere between a scream and a groan, threw her over his back with his levitation, and made for the exit. Rita squirmed and flapped every step of the way. Sherry had enough sense to dive out of the way this time, shouting after him as he pushed his way through the gathered ponies. He passed several security guards as he exited the crowd, all of whom muttered and tried to look away at the sight of him.

“I just want to talk to her,” Rita whined. “I mean, if she knows, what’s the big deal?!” Tap ignored her, turning sharply and ducking into a stairwell. “You’re such a stick-in-the-mud! I might not get another chance like this!”

A few flights of stairs later and Tap was at street level, bolting for the exit. The clacking of hooves echoed behind him. He looked back to find he was being pursued by security. More ponies began to file out of the office by the door, forming a line to block the exit.

Rita started punching Tap in the side, her fists bouncing off harmlessly. “I’m so-so-so sorry everypony! I guess he’s spooked or something!” He heard an avalanche of clinking and clattering behind him. “Here’s some caps to cover whatever!”

“Oh, just let him go,” a raspy mare yelled from the office.

The line hesitantly broke, and Tap plowed through the revolving door, rocketing out of the tower. The slavers milling around in the Red Eye camp perked up as Tap came charging toward them, snarling and snorting. He began to serpentine when a few sentries opened fire, gritting his teeth as he cast flash and decoy in quick succession. Cracks of gunfire and the thump of passing bullets filled the air as he tore through the collection of tents. Paharita screamed the entire time. The angry sounds of Red Eye’s forces faded into the distance as Tap carried on at full speed, and Rita gradually pulled her talons and claws out of his sides.

Several minutes passed before the little griffon had calmed down enough to form words.

“Graaaaah! Are you flippin’ crazy? You could have gotten me killed back there!” She swatted him on the side of the head with an outstretched wing. “What’s your deal? You didn’t even let me finish my negotiations! They’re not just gonna wait for me to solve their problems!”

With the alley in sight, Tap slowed to a trot. “She had the drop on me! She knew I was coming, and she knew I was going to be in the bar! Fuck, what if she knows about the workshop too?!”

“How do you know she knows? Did she say that she knows?” He winced as Rita stuck her talon into one of the deeper scratch marks in his side. “Like, hey mister, I’m onto you!”

“Well no, but—”

“What did she say then?!”

Tap closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, feeling stupider with every word. “She didn’t actually say she knew I was an assassin or that we had been hired to kill her, but… you know, she was implying—”

“Implying.” Rita slid over Tap’s side and dusted herself off. “She was implying that she knew you were an assassin, and that you had been hired to kill her. Really? Really-really? You’re killing me here.”

Tap nickered, starting and stopping as he tried to find the words to justify himself. “You know what Rita? Go fuck yourself! You weren’t there when it happened! And besides, she mentioned you too! She knows about both of us!”

“Oh please! Everyone knows about me!” She jabbed him in the breast with an extended talon. “Listen, you’d better get me an autograph before you kill her, or I’m not gonna let you stick it in me until you’ve done something to deserve it!” Rita puffed out her cheeks and pouted while Tap gawked. Moments later, she snorted out a giggle. “Okay, maybe not that long, but you’re at least gonna have to beg first.”

A low groan rolled out of Tap’s throat as he leaned against the wall, shaking, his adrenaline surge fading. In its absence, his monstrous hangover had returned with a vengeance. Rita typed out the password on the door terminal, and the steel curtain rolled up with a rattle. The lights had been turned off, but as Rita cocked her head, they flicked back on.

“Surpriiiise!” chimed several tinny voices in unison.

Confetti drifted to the floor, and a banner reading “Welcome to your New Home!” hung from the ceiling.

“Oh, I forgot…” The griffon smiled around her beak, stepping into the room. “Sorry guys, false alarm. No new family member yet, but hey, you all get an A plus for effort!”

“Fuck this gay earth,” Tap droned, dragging himself to the bed and collapsing onto his side.

|[o8- ]|[  7 ]|[ /_\ ]|

It wasn’t until early afternoon the next day that Paharita managed to convince Tap to leave the workshop, but not for lack of trying.

Between bouts of angry sex the previous night and following morning, she had repeatedly attempted to reassure him that he was just being paranoid. After a late breakfast, it finally began to sink in, and he agreed to accompany her to Tenpony again. Just outside the tower, however, a new concern bloomed in Double Tap’s mind. He hadn’t been keeping track of how much money they had spent on bribes in the past month, but the amount of times he had seen Rita fork over their hard-earned pay was starting to make him worried. Despite that, he kept quiet as the now-familiar pony that was apparently in charge of the Red Eye camp took Rita’s offered bag of caps between his teeth.

“So what was that about yesterday?” asked the soldier, after depositing the bag of caps into his own saddlebag.

Tap narrowed his eyes. “How about: why the fuck did you open fire on us?”

“Hey, you charged us!” The soldier briefly glanced over his wither at the other slavers milling around behind him. “Scared the shit out of the greener recruits. I barely recognized the two of you until you had already plowed through to the other side of camp.”

“He just had a little scare is all,” Rita interjected. “Had to get all the stampeding out of his system. You know how it is!”

With a snicker and a wave of his foreleg, the soldier turned away.

Tap shoved Rita as he stepped past her. While Tap wanted to wash himself off more than anything, Rita had errands to finish, and there was already plenty of ammunition up in their room. On top of that, they had yet to reclaim what they left at the front door the last time they went through. For these reasons, they passed on the smuggling routine in favor of getting inside the tower swiftly. Judging by the glares the guards gave Tap as he went through the checkpoint, they were still sore about the previous day’s outburst. The scar-covered unicorn kept his head down, still feeling fairly deflated about the whole ordeal.

Once again, Tap parted ways with his feathered companion, heading for the elevator by himself, ignoring the looks of disapproval and disgust from all the other residents. A few minutes riding the elevator later, he walked down the hall to their room, mashing the key against the lock until the door opened. He left his clothes in a heap and climbed into the tub, the clip-clop of his hooves echoing off the tiled walls.

“Fuck,” he spat as he was sprayed with ice cold water.

The pipes groaned as the water heated up, and once it had reached the right temperature, Tap let out a long, happy sigh. He lazily lowered himself to the porcelain floor, folding his legs under himself and resting on his knees and cannons. Time became a foreign concept as he sat in a steam assisted daze. At the tail end of his shower, he remembered that he was supposed to be scrubbing himself. A lather, shampoo, and rinse later, Tap stepped out of the shower feeling completely refreshed.

He drank his fill from the sink, put his clothes back on, and grabbed six knives and two nine millimeter magazines from the dresser. Lastly, he put the mouthpiece of a dash inhaler between his lips and took a deep breath, grinning as the world briefly slowed down, becoming brighter and sharper. Feeling more like himself than when he arrived, he stepped out into the hall and locked the door behind him.

On the way to the elevator, a soft, bittersweet voice caressed his ears as it came through the PA system. It was one of those precious few Equestrian pre-war songs that he actually enjoyed. He leaned against the wall of the elevator as he rode it down to the market, tapping a forehoof along with the rhythm. He stopped abruptly when the doors opened; a pint-sized mare passed by, speaking with the hat-wearing pegasus he had nearly crashed into the day before. At the sight of Littlepip and Calamity, a lump formed in his throat. He took a deep breath and choked it down.

Put your game face on, you’re a professional too. He nodded to himself and stepped out of the elevator. Let’s fucking get this over with already.

He checked his pistols mid stride, feeling the slides with his levitation. He hadn’t bothered removing the silencers while he was up in his room, which meant he was ready to go. The trick, he told himself, would be staying unnoticed and hoping they went somewhere away from the crowd. He was prepared to follow them until the opportunity presented itself. And then, without warning, the pair went their separate ways. Tap ducked behind a trash can, narrowly avoiding Calamity’s sweeping gaze as he went back they way they had come. Tap’s gaze lingered on the retreating pegasus; the team’s long range specialist. According to the contract, Littlepip was to be considered top priority.

Tap turned his gaze back to her, watching as she vanished around a corner. He casually approached that same corner, leaning against the wall and peering around the bend. Pedestrian traffic was significantly lighter in the direction she had chosen to go, and she seemed to be heading for the restrooms. He watched the few other ponies in the area as closely as he was watching Littlepip.

All I need is a few moments in everypony’s blind spot. Gotta work quick. Carry the body somewhere secluded so I can get proof of termination. He glanced over his shoulder after a pair of earth ponies passed him by. There’s a janitor’s closet right down the hall. As long as she doesn’t see me coming, this will go over without a hitch.

Besides his target, only two other ponies occupied the area. One of them, a hornless stallion, aimlessly milled around the area before finally disappearing into the men’s room. Around that time, Littlepip climbed onto a bench and started going through her things. A prissy young mare gave Littlepip a curious glance, then began to walk away.

With her forehooves, Littlepip retrieved a crystal sphere of some sort, looking it over curiously. A moment later, she touched her horn to it and seemed to go into a trance. She appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be completely defenseless. Tap’s telekinetic grip tightened in anticipation, waiting for her to be completely alone. As the last potential witness sneered at him in passing, he knew that the moment had come.

Tap hugged the wall as he slipped around the corner, starting to draw his pistols.

Suddenly, a floor-to-ceiling section of the wall to the right of the bench slid away like a panel. He came to a dead stop and crammed his pistols back into their holsters. Three ponies stepped out, looking as surprised to see Tap as he was to see them. From what he could see, the wall had opened into some sort of dimly lit passage. There were more ponies within, their silhouettes giving the impression that they were adorned with robes.

“Nothing to see here,” one of the three ponies grunted as they moved toward Littlepip.

Two of them stood in front of the bench, keeping their eyes on Tap. The third, a unicorn, moved around behind them, the glow of his horn enveloping what little Tap could see of his target. The two in front moved with the third, carrying Littlepip into the wall. They were all concealed as the wall closed again moments later. Now slack jawed, Tap approached the wall and tapped it with a forehoof. It clunked solidly. There wasn’t a seam to be found. He turned toward the bench Littlepip had been sitting on mere moments ago and sat down, trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

At a total loss, he finally uttered, “What the fuck.”

|[o’o ]|[ /_\ ]|[(  ) ]|

A rapid knocking caused Tap to fall off the edge of the bed, landing on his belly with both pistols pointed at the door. The Steel Ranger file followed him, scattering papers and photos everywhere as it hit the ground. The likeness of Littlepip stared back at him.

“Knock-Knock!” Rita cheerfully trilled. “Are you in there?”

Double Tap heaved a sigh of relief and let his pistols clatter to the floor, only to snatch them up again immediately after. “Is there anyone with you?”

“Only our not-so-shiny new robot friend! Turns out, they did wait for me to solve their problems! Ponies are sooooo lazy!”

“How many letters in cock-tease?” Tap put both pistols to the door, a little lower than average pony eye-level, as he waited for her response.

“Two-One-Two! I already told you I was alone, silly!”

Tap unlocked the door and stepped out of the way, pistols still at the ready. Rita entered with a second rate Handy model hovering behind her.

“Although,” she added, “I’m glad to see you were paying attention when I explained the code phrases.” The griffon paused, leaning a bit closer. “Oh no, you’ve got that look again. What happened this time?”

“She has fucking bodyguards? And monks! Monk bodyguards! That sure as hell wasn’t in the file!”

“She…” Paharita tilted her head to the side, one brow arched. “What?”

“Yeah! Littlepip was using a memory orb or whatever, so I went to move in for the kill… fucking ponies came out of nowhere and just took her away! And there were these hooded motherfuckers waiting for her! They all saw me!” He whipped his head around, gnashing his teeth. “Shit, she was testing me! She knew I was following her and she wanted to see if I would actually try and take her out even after she warned me in the bar!”

Rita snickered as she shut and locked the door. “That’s pretty weird, but I don’t think that—”

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this if she keeps guessing my moves before I make them.” Tap turned away, stepping up to a window. The sickly glow of the sun had all but faded, a curtain of darkness settling across the ruins of Manehattan. “But that’s twice in a row that I’ve seen her in here.” He glanced back at the griffon. “Do you think she lives here, too? It wasn’t in the file.”

“If I knew where Littlepip lived, do you think I’d be hanging out with you all day?” She chirped out a cruel little giggle. “I haven’t heard anything about it on the radio, so...”

Rita shrugged and hopped up onto the bed. She patted the sheets beside her, grinning as the metal spider floated to her side. Tap turned his attention back to the window as she got out a screwdriver. Something at ground level caught his attention. A stream of flickering torch-light slowly trickled away from where Red Eye’s forces had set up camp. Without a word to Rita, he scrambled to the door, throwing open the locks and nearly ripping it off its hinges.

“Not again!”

“Just stay here,” he called from the hallway. “I’ll be right back!”

The elevator was extremely crowded on the way down. Clearly, other residents had noticed what he had noticed, and were eager to investigate. He doubted any of them would be willing to get as close as he was, though. An unintelligible uproar rolled in from the market when the doors opened. Everypony was in the process of flooding to the windows. In moments, the elevator completely vacant, save for himself.

With a sharp zap, Paharita appeared on the other side of the car.

“Oh what—”

Rita pointed his way, lowering her brow. “Hey, I have to make sure you don’t kill anyone we’re not getting paid to kill while you’re being all crazy. That kinda nonsense is bad for business.”

“They’re leaving!” he heard someone shout just before the doors closed.

Tap grumbled. “Fine, whatever. This won’t take long.”

Before coming within sight of the security checkpoint, Tap dropped his knives and magazines into a trash can. He had no doubt that they would search him when he tried to come back in. The guards stared daggers at him as he approached the exit.

“You gonna go with ‘em?” one of the guards taunted. “That would be great. We’ll even help you pack.”

“That’s not very nice,” Rita scolded. “He’s having crisis.”

Tap snorted. “You’re all a riot.”

Outside, the ground was littered with freshly emptied cans and scraps of food. Several campfires lay scattered around, some still glowing with embers, but all the tents and ponies that had been there just a few hours ago were now almost gone. Nearby, he heard a pony barking orders, and the sound of clattering metal along with the beat of multiple sets of hooves. When Tap glanced in the direction of the shout, he spotted a red and black flag bearing a stylized white eye with a crimson iris.

He quickly stepped around the rusted frame of a passenger carriage and found himself looking at a camp of Red Eye’s soldiers, but they had been greatly reduced from what he remembered. Others were in the process of marching away from what remained of the camp, looking to join the much larger group radiating in the distance. As he slowly approached the gathering of tents that were still standing, several guards around the perimeter perked up and readied their weapons. He stopped abruptly, still a good two dozen paces from the camp.

“Woah, woah! We’re friendlies!” He looked to his side, but Rita wasn’t there. She smiled and waved to him from the surprisingly well lit manticore booth as he glanced over his wither. “You feathery cocksucker,” he muttered under his breath.

“We ain’t friends with nopony!” spat a hornless soldier, illuminated by the flickering campfire behind him. “What the fuck do you want?”

“How come you guys were set up out here?” He glanced to the increasingly distant mass of soldiers. “And why are you leaving now?”

Another guard simply grunted, “Littlepip.”

His mouth agape, Tap turned from the camp and rejoined Paharita. She had her earbuds in, holding a dirty styrofoam container that he could only assume was from the manticore stand. His heart felt like a brick of lead in his breast.

“Looks like your Light-Bringer made entering the tower toll-free again.”

She looked up at him, nodding. “DJ Ponethree was just telling me about it! Isn’t Littlepip great?!”

|[ /_\ ]|[BAR]|[  7 ]|

Finding Littlepip in the crowd wasn’t too difficult; he knew what to look for at this point. Convincing Rita to keep her distance was another story, but somehow he had managed that as well.

With so many ponies standing around, excitedly shouting about how Red Eye was pulling his ponies out, it was very easy to hide in plain sight. He shadowed the tiny unicorn as she moved through the market foyer, but something else had caught his attention.

There was another mare in her company; one that wasn’t in the file. From what he could hear through the chatter, as the two idly conversed about the sudden turn of events: her voice had an exotic flare. On top of that, her movements differed from that of the ponies around her. Every step was a precise, controlled motion, but simultaneously fluid and effortless. Her ears were constantly swiveling, her gaze sweeping her surroundings as she carefully maneuvered through the crowd, completely avoiding physical contact.

All signs pointed to either an expert in dancing or martial arts, and if this mare was in Littlepip’s company, he assumed it wasn’t the former.

As he continued to watch her, he noticed subtle differences in her physical appearance. It wasn’t the scars covering her body that seemed off. He had plenty of those. It was the way that the majority of her dock was exposed, only flowing into the hairs of her tail toward the tip. Her hooves seemed smaller, and the bridge of her muzzle was a much more gradual incline; not quite masculine, but not that of the typical pony mare, either. The way her mane stuck straight up was also unusual. Suddenly, it clicked.

She wasn’t a pony at all.

Xenith, you dyed your entire coat the color of your stripes, didn’t you? A grin spread across Tap’s lips. Clever girl.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Tenpony would probably object to the presence of a zebra, but there she was, striding right through their midst.

And she was gorgeous.

Tap shook away the feeling of longing, focusing on Littlepip again. They were on their way to the elevator. Fortunately, so were a lot of other ponies. He managed to squeeze into the far side of the car, waiting patiently for the doors to close. Half of the buttons on the panel were lit up. As the elevator began its ascent, he began to strategize.

I haven’t seen the rogue Steel Ranger or the other unicorn yet.  The elevator emptied slightly after coming to a stop. He relaxed, easing into the newly acquired breathing room. Maybe they don’t all come down at once. One or two stay behind to watch the room, make sure there aren’t any uninvited guests. Smart. I doubt they’re keeping a phoenix indoors, so I shouldn’t have to worry about that.

A soft ding signaled another stop, a few more ponies stepping out of the car. He caught a glimpse of Xenith through the thinning crowd. In that same moment, he noticed a unicorn about the same size as Littlepip, but with shocks of wild, blue hair. She was giving him the stink eye.

Still, there’s no way I can take down a pony in power armor without bringing security to their door. I can at least take care of some or all of the soft targets. The leader and the sniper will to be the biggest threats, next to the Steel Ranger. The medic shouldn’t be much of a fight. He looked over at Littlepip and her incognito companion again, chewing his lower lip. The car was now half empty, and it continued to rise. I’ve kind of been looking forward to fighting that zebra… better play it safe, though. I just hope they’re not all sleeping in the same room. A party that big, they’re probably in one of the suites. Probably wear a mask, just in case they wake up and I have to bail. Wait, shit…

Suddenly, Tap found himself in a one way game of chicken. The plan had been to watch them get off at an earlier floor, but his targets stayed put, casually looking around. Three more stops had been queued, and counting himself, there were six ponies remaining in the car. The elevator slowed, and the doors rolled open, but none of the passengers exited. The doors closed again and the elevator continued to rise. Littlepip’s idle gaze met his, and his heart stopped. She snickered quietly as the mare with the blue mane leaned in and whispered something to her. With all the speed of a glacier, he looked away, grinding his teeth all the while.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

The doors opened again, and Tap stumbled out with two of the remaining ponies, relieved that Littlepip and Xenith didn’t follow him. He turned back to the doors and watched the glowing indicator pause near the top floor. He recalled Rita mentioning something about DJ Ponethree’s studio being up there, and he knew for a fact that the upper floors were exclusively penthouses for the most wealthy and important residents. It made sense to Tap that Littlepip would be getting the hero treatment. Fairly certain that he knew where she was sleeping, he pushed the down button, already piecing together his plan. When the doors opened he put his plans on hold.

Xenith was there, staring back at him.

She had one hoof raised and out of sight, he assumed to either hold some sort of weapon or to keep the doors open. Possibly both. The dyed zebra remained silent, her gaze unblinking.

“Uh…” he finally uttered, “I missed my stop.”

“And I am holding the door open for you.”

“Yeah, I see that… thanks.”

Hesitantly, Tap stepped inside, never once turning his back to her. The walls of the car felt like ice as he backed into a corner. Her eyes followed him every step of the way, and then she stepped away from the panel and into corner across from him. His mind buzzed with half formed strategies, simultaneously cursing himself for stepping into the elevator at all. Fighting her hoof to hoof had been a pleasant fantasy, but in such tight quarters the odds were stacked strongly against him, even with firepower on his side. For the moment, she appeared to have no interest in fighting, but he knew that could change in an instant.

“Do you not know what floor you reside on?”

“No! Yes. I mean—I think I’m uh…” He slid to the other corner and reached for the panel, waving his fetlock over the buttons. She moved to the opposite corner. “Oh, you know what? I forgot something at the market.”

Xenith narrowed her eyes as he made his selection. Tap put on a big, fake smile.

“You are not what you appear to be,” she stated.

His smile vanished. “Neither are you.”

Slowly, Tap circled to the other side of the car. Xenith mirrored his every move. His plans began to solidify. If he could successfully defeat her, he would have to stash her body on top of the elevator and deal with it later. The idea fell apart as he realized that her blood would probably leak through the ceiling.

“I saw you earlier,” she calmly informed him. “Outside the restrooms.”

“I really had to use the toilet.”

She cocked a brow. “Did you intend to shoot the toilet?”

“I check my guns every so often.” He sniffed quietly. “It’s a habit.”

“And I am sure that keeping your weapons muffled is also a habit.”

Tap furrowed his brow, coming to a stop with his back to the door. Escape was the only viable option.

“Okay,” Tap finally managed. “Where are you going with this?”

“I do not like you. Stay away from us.”

A soft ding hung in the air. The doors rattled open, letting in a flood of background noise.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” He took a step back. “Your scars are beautiful, by the way.”

Xenith remained silent, looking him dead in the eyes until the doors clicked shut.

|[BAR]|[o’o ]|[o8- ]|

“You’re sure you don’t want me to just fly you up?”

Tap shuddered at the thought. “Never again. You ready?”

Paharita nodded, wiggling her haunches and half-spreading her wings. Tap bit his lower lip to stop himself from laughing. It was a wonder she could fly at all. After a few moments of readying herself, she leapt from her perch on the windowsill, opening up to her full wingspan and hooking left. The night swallowed her up in seconds. Tap leaned against the sill, a strong wind pulling at his mane and making him squint. Cradling a laser pointer in his telekinetic field, he began to rapidly push the button, aiming it skyward.

After a few minutes of this, a thick black cable snaked its way down the side of the building. He put the beacon away, fighting the wind to levitate the rope closer. He checked his harness, slipped on a mask, and fed the rope through the buckle, giving a few tugs to make sure it was secure. Satisfied, Tap took a long hit of dash and stepped outside.

Gravity immediately took over. He dangled against the side of Tenpony Tower as he tried to get his bearings. Another strong wind tore at him, rustling his holsters and the body bag strapped to his back. The full body catsuit he wore kept him warm. His hind hooves clicked against cement as he righted himself, pinching the cable between his forehooves and teeth. He stepped to the side, away from the open window and lifted himself higher, trying to ignore the taste of the cable as it slithered over his tongue. Slowly, he began the climb toward his destination. So long as it didn’t take him all night to get there, he was fine with the speed of his ascent. Most or all of them would hopefully be asleep by the time he arrived.

Tap’s jaw was on fire by the time he reached what he hoped was the correct floor. He reset the buckle with his telekinesis for the umpteenth time to make sure he didn’t fall to his death, then spat out the cable, letting his tongue loll in disgust. Rita drifted over to him over him, her brow cocked.

“Is it unlo…” His whisper trailed off, and he blinked in confusion as he studied the enormous panes of glass. “Can I even open this?”

She gave him a thumbs up, then pointed to the one she had tinkered with. “The lower ones are on hinges. You’re all set. I’ll settle for a souvenir since an autograph is probably out of the question.”

The unicorn sneered and steadied his hooves, sidestepping along the wall toward the softly glowing window. A barely audible zap sounded from behind him, followed by the increasingly distant rustling of feathers. From within, he heard muffled music. Tap took another deep breath through a dash inhaler, closing his eyes to go over the plan.

He stepped in through the window. Littlepip was watching the door, revolver leveled, or maybe she was waiting for him, or maybe she was sleeping, or maybe Calamity was balls deep in her. The important thing was that she was oblivious to his presence. If she or anypony else noticed him and opened fire, and he managed to survive, he left a decoy and aborted the mission. If not, he put two in the side of her head and the heads of any other ponies present.

It would take too long to cut off her leg, so he put her entire body in the body bag, took the ears of any secondary targets he had dropped, and then stepped back outside and hooked back up to the cable. The slide back down was quick and easy. He strobed again, and Rita retrieved the cable, joining him soon after. They spent the rest of the night having victory sex.

-0-

When Tap opened his eyes, he stared hard at intended point of entry. He doubted they would expect him to come from the window, so in theory, he would have the element of surprise.

There were contingency plans, of course. He was counting on them being clever enough to smuggle ammunition into the tower, or simply being allowed to carry live rounds on account of being heroes. Alerts and returned fire were instant grounds for abortion. In the event of a lookout, he would take down the awake pony or ponies first and worry about identification second. Littlepip was the priority target, but he would settle for secondaries if he couldn’t take her down without risking his discovery. Taking them all on at once would clearly be suicidal, and if Steelhooves, or all of them, were awake and waiting, the plan was forfeit provided he could even get out alive. Steelhoves being in any state of alertness was the worst case scenario.

A nervous chill ran down his spine. He waited for the wind to die down, then grasped the latch on the other side of the glass with his levitation and slowly pulled the window open. Sweet, slow music crackled its way to his ears. Tap peered inside and gave the room a quick visual sweep. No sign of movement. He took a few cautious steps inside, unhooking himself from the cable and closing the window behind him.

As his eyes adjusted to the gentle, flickering light of candles, the number of books lining the shelves that lined everything else gave Tap the distinct impression that he was standing in some kind of library. He also noticed furniture that didn’t quite blend in with its surroundings. A bed occupied the space nearby, centered under the vaulted windows, the covers mostly in a heap on the floor. A musky, feminine scent lingered in the air. Somepony had been very busy very recently, and he didn’t have to think too hard to guess what they were doing. He flattened against a bookshelf as he recalculated with the new information.

At least one of his targets was awake. Unless they had laid a trap, he could assume they didn’t know he was there. Although the suite had a different layout than he had anticipated, the plan had not changed.

The phonograph on the nightstand continued to play as Tap swept along the bookshelf, pausing behind the occasional bookshelf-ringed column to check his surroundings. Both pistols floated in the magically dimmed light of his levitation, drawn in the event that his query returned. Barring Steelhooves, he was prepared to deal with any other member of Littlepip’s party. He waited at the door for almost a minute, counting to the beat of his heart, but they never came back. Gritting his teeth, he wrapped the door handle in his levitation. The door rattled as he tried to open it. He gritted his teeth, realizing a moment later that is was locked and remedying the situation by twisting a metal tab above the handle. With that taken care of, he cracked the door open far enough to give him a sliver of vision into the dimly lit room beyond.

From what he could see, it opened into some kind of enormous antechamber. His eyes followed a staircase that ran up to a balcony and another door. A sound like running water echoed to him from somewhere inside. He opened the door a little wider, cautiously slinking out of the study turned bedroom. The source of the trickling and splashing, he discovered, was a fountain in the center of the room that was shaped like an alicorn. The room was completely empty as far as other ponies were concerned.

Where is everyone? Did I tell Rita to pick a lock on the wrong floor? Am I just breaking into some random pony’s apartment here? Or are they all behind that door up the stairs, maybe?

He looked around the room again. Besides the door behind the balcony and the door to the athenaeum, there were two other entrances. One of them appeared to be getting smaller, narrowing horizontally. He realized that they were elevator doors, but there was no elevator car waiting inside the shaft. With his head cocked, he watched the cables shudder and sway until the doors softly clicked shut. Tap spent a moment watching them to see if they would open again, but nothing happened. The other door remained still.

Shit, what if Littlepip knew I was coming? Another nervous shiver ran through his body. What if she went to go get the others? Or security? She would! That cunt would rather humiliate me than—

Muffled laughter perked his ears, disrupting his train of thought. It had come from the other door. As he continued his circuit of the room, walking on eggshells as he passed the elevator, he realized that there was running water on the other side of that door; a spattering sound, like a shower. Tap raised his pistols as a long, shuddering moan reverberated through the wood. He swallowed and wrapped the handle in his levitation.

A click echoed through the atrium. His heart nearly jumped out of his throat. He spun around, pistols leveled. No one was there. As his eyes frantically searched the room, he noticed the door he had come through was now closed.

Son of a bitch!

He crossed the room as swiftly and quietly as he could, stacking up against the wall as he prepared to sneak in behind whoever had just gone into the study. Tap cast one last glance around the atrium and a sharp, wicked smile cut through the darkness, fading again just as quickly.

“No one here but us ghosts.”

Tap squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake Lady Luck out of his head. Go torment someone else. I’m busy.

“Torment?” she repeated with feigned offense. He was thankful for her silence after that.

The scarred unicorn spent a moment collecting himself, taking deep breaths as he squeezed the library-bedroom door handle. Whoever had closed it had also left it unlocked. A grin tugged at the corners of Tap’s lips, feeling like his luck was becoming favorable again. The door opened just as quietly as before. He slipped in unnoticed, his eyes on a hooded pony that slowly and carefully walked through the room. The pony paused at the bed. Tap held his breath, crouching behind a pillar. When he looked out again, the pony had shed their cloak. More importantly, that pony was Littlepip.

While she was busy with her PipBuck, he slipped out from behind the pillar and closed in. She turned as he lined up his silencers, practically pressing them against her forehead when her wide eyes focused on him.

“Um…” she squeaked. “H-hi?”

Two dry clicks filled the air, barely echoing in the enormous library. Littlepip fell limply at the foot of the bed, landing in the heap of sheets. Without delay, he grabbed the closest corners of the sheets with his telekinesis and lifted, Littlepip’s weight settling in the center as the sheets drifted away from the floor. He reached back and undid the clasp on the body bag, shaking himself to make it slide off. From there, he pulled the zipper open with his teeth, spread the mouth of the bag as much as he could, and stuffed Littlepip into it, sheets and all. He draped the body bag across his back and fastened it back into place.

Tap exhaled a long sigh of relief and glanced back at the door to make sure he was still alone. Not wanting to spend any longer behind enemy lines, he stepped away from the bed and climbed back into the windowsill. The cable easily supported the extra weight, and he rappelled back down to his room in only a few minutes. On the way down, he began piecing together the next phase of the plan. Seeing as he left no evidence of her murder, the remainder of Littlepip’s party would no doubt break off in search of her. Xenith might present a problem, but he could worry about that when the time came. He was still fantasizing about false leads and all sorts of traps when Paharita fluttered back into their room.

“You were supposed to signal me, glue-for-brains! Thank goodness I was watching the window when you came out or who knows how long I would have been circling up there!” She dropped a heap of coiled cable into the corner, stretching her neck afterwards. “Hey, are you even listening to me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He grinned and undid the clasp on the body bag, shouldering it off and levitating it to the floor. “I was too busy thinking about the fucking Light-Bringer I just bagged!”

“Ohmygosh you really did it? Did you bring me her whole body? That’s so sweet!  I didn’t think you would bring the whole body back! Let me see! Let me see!” She nearly fell across the pony sized bag, eagerly tugging the zipper down and pulling the sheet wrapped body out onto the floor. “I’m gonna have to talk to Steel Trap again! I wanna get her taxidermied and have her rearing up, with her forelegs out. We can use her like a gun rack!”

“Still gotta deal with the others. I kinda want to clear out of here soon. I ran into—”

“What is this?!”

Startled by the outburst, Double Tap looked down at Rita and the now uncovered body of Littlepip, but he simply lacked the mental capacity to process what had occurred.

Littlepip was gone.

There was definitely still a body sprawled out on the sheets, blood pouring out of a pair of fatal head wounds, but it no longer resembled Littlepip’s. What lay before him now was insectoid in nature, while still being reminiscent of a pony. Her coat had been replaced with a black carapace, and her horn lacked spiraling grooves. Blue, iridescent eyes stared lifelessly across the room, and a set of four transparent wings stretched out from her back, raised in what he could only guess had been alarm. Her mane, tail, ears, and hooves seemed tattered and decayed. The blood wasn’t red, either. A thick, green ichor pooled in the fabric, glistening.

Rita glanced up at him, then back down at the bizarre corpse. “Well?”

Tap went slack jawed. “How the fuck am I supposed to know? It looked like her when I put two fucking bullets in her head!”

“Well somewhere between then and now,” she pointed a talon, stabbing in his direction, “you goofed!”

“How do you know Littlepip wasn’t this thing the whole time?!”

The griffon puffed out her cheeks “Littlepip is not a changeling!”

“What the literal fuck is a changeling?!”

“It’s like a bug thing! Anyway, good job killing one, but now you’re gonna have to go back up there and kill the real Littlepip!”

“No fucking way! I’m sitting right here and I’m not doing shit! Xenith probably told Littlepip about what happened in the elevator and…”

“Xenith?!” Rita interrupted. Tap continued rambling at full speed.

“…another one of her fucking tests! Ugh, I’m going to wake up one day and she’ll be standing over me, probably pissing in my mouth or something! Ha-ha,” he said in his best Littlepip voice, “you’re not so hot after all, are you—”

She grabbed him by the withers, shaking him. “When did you see that zebra? Zebras aren’t allowed here! This is an esteemed, high class establishment!”

“I talked to her in the elevator! And fuck you, you racist asshole! She’s beautiful and I would totally bone her!”

“Ugh! You see?!” Rita folded her arms, glaring at him. “You talked to her, and she put her hoodoo on ya! Now you wanna bang her, and you’re killing monsters! For Littlepip!”

Tap’s eyes widened. “Zebras can do that?”

“Uh, yeah! Duh!” Rita sulked her way into the bathroom. “A zebra! Great! Now I'm gonna have to change the locks!"

Later, after calming down with a sip of Southern Comfort, Rita busied herself with the PipBuck on the changeling’s foreleg. Tap lay mostly on the floor beside her, propped up against the side of the bed and nursing the rest of the bottle.

“It seems like every time I’m going to try something, she’s two steps ahead of me already.” His head rolled back, and he stared blankly up at the ceiling. “How the fuck am I supposed to beat her?” 

Rita suddenly perked up. "Congrats, you assassinated Littlepip's assassin."

“I mean, she…” Tap looked back to his companion. “Wait, what?”

“Well, more like Littlepip's assassin who would go on to assassinate and replace DJ Ponethree.” Rita patted the changeling corpse next to her. 

“I guess this little bugger came up through the elevator shaft around the same time you snuck in, and... long story short, it looks like tonight was supposed to be their big night, and you inadvertently ruined several decade’s worth of careful planning.” She glanced up at him, waggling her brows. “Not that it wasn’t something Littlepip couldn’t handle on her own but, you know, nice job!”

“So Littlepip not only knew I was coming, she baited me so that I would kill another threat. That is just…” He put the mouth of the bottle to his lips, taking another swig.

“I don’t think she knew this was gonna happen. Yeah, it’s a big coincidence, but come on!” She spent a long moment staring at the changeling, a grin slowly curling the corners of her mouth. “You wanna investigate this some more?”

Tap tilted his head until the room was diagonal. “Are we getting paid to investigate it some more?”

“Well, no...” Rita met his slanted gaze, smiling. “But it could be fun to—”

“Fuck no.” Tap felt the bottle slipping out of his levitation and lurched forward to catch it between his hooves. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a deep rumble. “I fight raiders, mutants, cyborgs, and cyborg raider mutants. Not fucking alien-monster things! Unless I’m getting paid to deal with it, this shit is not my problem.”

The griffon deflated, pouting. “Fine, jeeze... stick-in-the-mud. What about Littlepip, then?”

“She has more luck than me. That’s the only explanation.”

“What?”

He leaned closer, staring deep into her eyes. “And she’s going to kill me and take my luck and become even more invincible.”

Rita pushed him away, cocking her brow. “I’m pretty sure luck doesn’t stack.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Well, at least this wasn’t a total loss.” She reached around the changeling, withdrawing her talon with something that looked like two dicks stuck together end on end. He didn’t remember grabbing it, but he realized that it must have been in the heap of sheets he used to wrap the body. “I’m gonna go clean this off and claim it as my own!”

Watching her from the bed, Tap decided consolation sex would be just as good as victory sex.

|[  7 ]|[o8- ]|[ /_\ ]|

Double Tap gave the bed one last longing glance. At the sound of snapping fingers, he returned his attention to Rita. Her expression was stern, but far from angry. If anything, he thought her serious face was kind of cute. She took a deep breath, puffed out her chest, and spread her wings.

“Are you gonna do this?!”

Tap reared up, kicking at the air. “I’m gonna do this!”

Rita jabbed him in the breast with a talon when he came down. “Are you gonna get money?!”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I’m gonna get paid!”

“Alright! Let’s kill Littlepip!”

“Let’s… let’s kill… oh fuck.” Tap turned away from the door. “I can’t do this!”

“Come oooooon!” She stomped after him, grabbing him by the mane and forcing him to look her in the eyes. “How many more times do I have to get you worked up before you’re ready to leave?!”

The mattress uttered a metallic creak as he roughly sat down on it. “She’s untouchable, Rita! I would have killed any other pony four or five times over by now!”

“Okay, well, since you’re crazy enough to actually believe she knows what you’re gonna do before you do it, how about I make up the plan?”

He narrowed his eyes as he looked up at her. “What do you even know about tactical strategy?”

“First off, I don’t think you can use those two words together like that. Second, I planted a tracking beacon on their Sky Bandit last night just in case you screwed up, which you did!”

“I’m an adult, I do what I want.” He paused as the last part sunk in. “And thanks for the lack of faith, you beak-faced cock wringer!”

Paharita grinned. “It pays to think ahead!”

“You dumb motherfucker, why didn’t you tell me their thing was parked up there? I could have put a fucking bomb on it! Those passenger carriages are just begging to explode as is!”

“Oh.” Her grin vanished. “Well, I didn’t, and we wouldn’t be having this discussion if you hadn’t killed the wrong Littlepip! It’s still totally your fault!”

“Whatever! So what are you suggesting, then? An ambush?”

“Yes! An ambush! Glad I thought of it!”

“That… could work. I let her come to me, snuff her out, and anyone else that might be with her. No rules out in the wasteland. Don’t have to worry about waking neighbors or blowing shit up.” He nodded, easing back onto his forehooves and slipping his hinds off the bed. “So the question is where. We have to figure out where she’s going before she gets there. Isn’t that what we were already supposed to be doing?”

“We got a little distracted, I guess. Don’t worry, though, I’ll get right on it!” Rita stepped away, approaching the dresser. “After breakfast.”

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah.”

While Rita was busy digging through the drawers, Tap was drawn to the window, staring out into the damp grey that had settled over the Manehattan ruins. The soft patter of rain against the glass lulled Tap into a state of tranquility. A yank on his tail brought him right out again. He saw a jagged grin in his reflection before he turned away.

Rita ruffled her feathers with impatience. “Let’s get going already! You can space out as much as you want when I have food I my tummy!”

|[(  ) ]|[BAR]|[BAR]|

“I hate getting wet,” Rita whimpered.

Tap shared the sentiment, to a degree. He was very fond of baths, and showers, and swimming, but getting his clothes and gear soaked with cold rain did not fall within those boundaries. Another strong wind whipped by, and he gritted his teeth in an effort to resist shivering. It was Rita’s suggestion that they leave Tenpony before the rain let up because, apparently, that’s what Littlepip and her crew were doing. When he and Rita made a pit stop at the workshop to drop off the new robot, she had turned down her rain gear. Now that she looked like a wet feather duster, he could see in her eyes just how much she regretted making that call.

Amusement aside, the downpour continued to intensify, showing no sign of slowing down. With everything covered in a humid haze and sheets of rain, visibility was very poor. On top of that, flying in this kind of weather was not particularly beneficial. The sky bandit was moving at a snail’s pace as Calamity fought the winds and rain, and they had already come to a complete stop once already. Tap and Rita were having no problem keeping up, and Tap guessed that it probably would have been faster if they had just traveled by hoof, like he was doing. It was a blessing and a curse rolled into one.

He glanced back to check on Rita, watching as she pecked at her PipBuck and ambled along on three legs. She let her talon drop back to the ground, splashing into a puddle.

“They’re slowing down,” she groaned. “Kill them so we can go back home.”

Within a few minutes, Rita cawed twice, the signal that they were approaching their target. Fragments of their conversation reached his ears as he crept closer, interrupted by the howling wind and relentless rain.

“…bathroom again.” He recognized Littlepip’s voice.

“…just a suggestion, but if you have such a tiny bladder…” Unfamiliar, but it wasn’t Xenith or Calamity, which left Velvet or Steelhooves. It certainly wasn’t Steelhooves.

“…figure ya’ll can jus’ piss out the windows, really.” Velvet raised her voice to protest, but Calamity just snickered. “Ain’t like anyponys gonna notice a ‘lil extra wet on a day like this!”

They had touched down in an intersection. The street was uneven, broken up into enormous chunks of concrete that jutted skyward. Tap crouched behind one of them, peering over the jagged edge, and caught a glimpse of them moving around in the haze. The silhouette of the sky bandit sat in the center of their blurred movement. Blowing up the passenger carriage seemed much more practical than waiting for one of them to break away from the group. He levitated a grenade from his bandoleer, putting tension on the pin.

A pit formed in the concrete slab with a loud thump, just a little to the left of Tap’s head. Following that was the powerful crack of a revolver. He fell back and let the grenade, pin still in place, tumble harmlessly out of his telekinetic hold.

Shit!

With two unicorns now alert, he doubted a grenade would stay where he had intended to throw it. The Comedies left their holsters. He was expecting one or more of Pip and company to come charging over the ridge at any moment. Instead, he heard Velvet shouting over the storm, her voice greatly amplified.

“Whoever or whatever you are out there, we’re just passing through! We mean you no harm, and we’ll be leaving presently!” At a normal volume, she scolded, “Really, do you have to try and kill everything you come across?”

“They showed up as hostile,” Littlepip whined. “What if they were going to ambush us?”

Rita cast a glare in Tap’s direction as he holstered his pistols and crawled past her.

“Well,” Velvet replied, “if they were, they’ve clearly lost their nerve. Let them go, and let us be on our way.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” the soaked griffon quietly hissed. “Get over there and shoot them!”

Tap slowed to a stop and turned his gaze, calmly looking her in the eyes. “Four heavily armed ponies, an expert in Fallen Caesar, and a phoenix. And you want me to just shoot them. After I’ve lost the element of surprise, and they know exactly where we’re sitting.” He began crawling again, moving in the direction of a nearby building. “Fuck. You. Paharita.”

It was mostly dry inside the building he had set his sights on. The presence of coolers with smashed doors, tipped shelves, and an empty register told him he was sitting in what used to be a corner store. He kept listening, constantly checking behind him, but Littlepip had apparently listened to Velvet’s advice. The wet silence outside told him that they had taken to the air again. Rita essentially confirmed his assumption as she barged in behind him.

“Just what is your problem, huh?” She stomped up to him, jabbing him right in the nose with an extended talon. “Making me trudge through this awful weather, and then, when they’re all right in front of you, you can’t even do your job? Well, you get right back on your hooves, mister,” she swung her pointing talon toward the door, “because we’re going after them!”

“Chasing them around is really fucking stupid. The plan was to let them come to us, you know, so we can ambush them. Also, I just learned something.”

Paharita looked up from a trash can, in the middle of pulling the bag out. “You learned something. Oh, this should be good.”

“PipBucks can detect intent.”

“Well yeah.” She dumped the contents of the two century old trash bag onto the floor, then bit down on the plastic and tore a hole in the top. “It’s really cool how it works, actually!”

“Rita.”

“I read an article about it once. When it’s scanning for life, it’s simultaneously—”

Tap snorted, pegging her in the side of the head with an empty soda can. “Rita, shut your fucking beak for a second.” She scowled and rubbed the point of impact. “If Littlepip knows where we are before we can even see her, and she can judge our intentions before I’ve fired a shot, we need to figure out some way to hide in plain sight as far as motives go.”

The griffon pulled the bag over herself, her beak protruding from her improvised poncho. “I don’t get it.”

“How can we show up as non-hostile?”

“What, on an EFS scan? Uh…” She slit the front open with a talon, waving her forearms around to make sure she had a free range of motion. “Not wanting to kill her would probably be a good start, but good luck with that.”

“I figured…” Tap fished through the broken glass at the bottom of a vending machine, retrieving a granola bar. “So what if we get the drop on her when she’s fighting other ponies? PipBucks can’t tell the difference between targets, right? Just who’s an enemy and who’s not.”

“So you’re saying… you’re gonna hide behind other enemies, and kill her while she’s busy with them? Like, wait until she has to reload?”

He nodded. “Pretty much.”

|[(  ) ]|[  7 ]|[ /_\ ]|

“Why the fuck did she come out to Fetlock?”

From behind, Paharita bubbled, “Stable Twenty Nine was constructed here! She’s probably feeling homesick or something. I dunno.”

A flicker in the distance caught Tap’s attention. He stopped abruptly, and his companion plowed into his haunches.

“Hey!” she squawked. “What’s the big—”

“Hail, followers of Applejack,” boomed the now familiar voice of Velvet Remedy. Tap threw himself behind a mound of concrete slabs, dragging Rita with him via telekinesis. “Littlepip and her Entourage bid you welcome and request an audience with SteelHooves.”

Double Tap quickly realized that Steelhooves had not been among Littlepip and company for the entire duration of time he had spent stalking them around the wasteland. He gave himself a solid crack on the forehead to accompany the revelation. Rita cocked a brow and grinned, but remained silent.

“So wait,” he whispered. “Does this mean the Steel Rangers captured Steelhooves? Are they negotiating now?” He got back to his hooves and continued his cautious approach toward the flicker in the distance. A mechanical sound nearby gave him reason to pause. Before he could decide his next course of action, a bright light cut through the darkness, blinding him. He shielded his eyes with a foreleg. “What the fuck!?”

“Stay where you are,” a stallion sternly command. “This area is under the control of Applejack’s Rangers.” Even though the light was overwhelming, he knew the sound of a power armor’s speaker system when he heard one. “What is your business here?”

“Business?” Tap snorted. “Littlepip just came through here, right? We’ve got some business with her.” He took a step forward, squinting, barely able to make out the silhouette of the Steel Ranger, and at least two more behind him. “Don’t you assholes put out memos or something? You hire us to do a job and then you let her—”

The rest of his sentence was lost as Rita muzzled him with her claws, kicking him in the stomach with a hind paw.

“I’m so, so sorry mister Applejack Ranger sir,” Rita shouted. “This little guy hasn’t been right in the head since the accident! I knew I shouldn’t have let him listen to the radio without supervision!” The Steel Ranger glanced to Rita, and then back at his support, bathing them in the light from his helmet. The red streaks they had painted across their armor stood out in the damp darkness surrounding them. “So, we’ll just be on our way... sorry to bother you!”

“I can’t take you anywhere,” Rita loudly scolded, though clearly trying to suppress her laughter.

The rain continued as a gentle drumming against the windows of the house he and Rita had taken shelter in. It was a two story structure about several minutes trot from where they had encountered Applejack’s Rangers, and it had weathered the last two centuries surprisingly well. They had chosen the bedroom for their temporary lodgings. The air was a little dusty, but by some miracle, the plumbing still worked. As soon as Tap had slipped out of his wet clothes and taken another shower, he sprawled across the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He was starting to form a better understanding of why the Steel Rangers had hired him to take out Littlepip, but more than that, why they wanted Steelhooves dead as well. At first, he had just assumed it was due to his association with Littlepip. Now that he had started to put the pieces together, the fight between the power-armored ponies he had witnessed the other night suddenly made a lot more sense.

“So if Littlepip and Steelhooves are heading up this coup…”

“I already told you that Littlepip isn’t actually a part of it.” He turned toward Rita, who was huddled over a television in the corner, busy tinkering. “Steelhooves and the Steel Rangers that agreed with him broke off into a faction calling themselves Applejack’s Rangers. They’re not staging a coup d’état so much as they’re just ponies that have dissented with the longstanding goals of the Steel Ranger administration and decided to form their own faction.”

“How the hell do you know that? That wasn’t in the file.”

“That wasn’t in the file,” Rita mimicked. She looked up and tapped her PipBuck several times. “Radio! You should seriously listen to DJ Ponethree. He’s fantastic when it comes to staying up to date on stuff.”

“Too much preaching. Anyway, these outcast chuckle-fucks are all set up in Twenty-Nine. What do you think Pip’s next move will be?”

“Well… Even though Littlepip is a total killing machine, Velvet is kind of a pacifist, as you saw earlier, and I’m sure that Steelhooves would rather find a peaceful solution to his quarrel with the Steel Ranger Classics.”

He blinked several times. “The what?”

“Steel Ranger Classics!” She grinned back at him, fluttering her wings. “I just made that up! Catchy, huh?”

Tap stuck out his tongue in disgust. “So you’re saying they might try for diplomancy?”

“Diplomacy, silly. There’s no n in there.”

“Whatever.” He rolled over, staring down at the map he had found in one of the rooms. Nothing was where it was supposed to be. “This is the official map of Equestria? What a joke. Whoever let this thing get printed was a fucking moron.”

Rita finished what she was doing, sat back, and twisted a dial on the side of the television. It buzzed to life, displaying colored bars and the words “Please stand by.” She turned another dial, and the image was replaced with a black and white cartoon. Tap grinned as he watched a diamond dog get smacked with a frying pan.

“No, it’s accurate.” She tilted to the side, propping herself up with her forearm, but she kept her eyes glued to the screen. “Equestria looks a lot different from the air. It just feels like everything is in different places because you have to weave around stuff while you’re traveling by hoof.”

“I guess that makes sense. So I’m thinking we get a few hours of sleep, then head to Bucklyn Cross. I doubt the Steel Rangers really give a shit about negotiating if they hired us in the first place.” He pushed himself parallel with the bed, resting his head on the musty pillows. “We should probably act fast just in case they change their mind, though.”

Rita said nothing. He knew he had lost her to reruns.

|[ /_\ ]|[BAR]|[o8- ]|

“She hasn’t been here.”

Tap’s mouth hung open. He hadn’t spent another day traveling to hear that. The rain looked like it was close to letting up, at least. “Oh, what?! But she passed us on our way here! Right, Rita?”

“Well… I never said they came here. They kinda circled around and then went to Arbu.” She checked her Pipbuck, then looked off into the distance with her binoculars. “And now I think they’re hunting radigator.”

The Steel Ranger remained still as a statue. “She hasn’t been here, and you’re extremely lucky that we’re even allowing you to stand on our doorstep, tribal.”

Rita let the binoculars dangle on their strap as she stood on her hind legs, folding her forearms over her breast. “We’ll see how you feel about that after we speak with Scribe Tea Leaves.”

“That’s Senior Scribe Tea Leaves to you, tribal, and she has already been informed that you wish to have an audience with her.” The Steel Ranger leaned closer to Tap, his reflection staring back at him on the helmet’s visor. “And if she doesn’t want to have an audience with you, and you’ve just been wasting my time—”

“Yeah yeah.” Tap snorted. “We’ll see.”

What a fucking pussy… it’s so easy to act tough with a suit of power armor on.

He wanted to pry the suit open and beat the living daylights out of the pony inside, but settled for joining Rita instead. She pointed in the direction Littlepip had supposedly gone.

 

The Steel Ranger’s Manehattan fortification, Bucklyn Cross, occupied the last remaining pier of what was once the Bucklyn Bridge. Since they were up high and sitting out in the middle of the river, the view of the surrounding ruins was largely unobstructed. Visibility was much better now that the downpour had eased up as well. He looked through the binoculars and saw Littlepip’s sky bandit parked on the roof of the radgator farm. Seconds later, the roof gave way under them, but Calamity managed to get the carriage airborne. An enormous radigator leapt after them, grabbing the sky bandit between its jaws. Tap shook his forehoof in anticipation. The sky bandit slipped free, and they quickly relocated, Velvet floating along behind them.

Tap lowered the binoculars in disgust. “You have got to be fucking kidding.”

“What are you doing here?!”

Tap, Rita, and the Steel Ranger all perked up in unison. A vaguely familiar-looking mare in a Steel Ranger scribe getup was galloping toward them. It was safe to assume that her name was Tea Leaves.

“Hellooooo,” Rita began, flashing a nervous smile as the scribe got right in her face.

“And why is Littlepip still alive?” Tea Leaves spat. “Why are any of those tribals still alive?!”

Tap could tell Rita was trying to use her girlish charm. The look of rage on the scribe’s face told him that it wasn’t working. “Well, see, we figured that maybe we could wait here in case they decide to swing by and try to talk things out. And then, you know, we’ll kill them nice and quick!”

“No! Absolutely not! Having a pair of assassins standing around outside our fortress is bad enough as it is!” Her gaze swept around, as though she were looking for something. “You’re supposed to be professionals! Why aren’t she and Steelhooves dead yet?! They have our elder now and it’s your fault!”

“Funny story, really! See, it seems like—”

“There are no excuses for this incompetence! No one can see you here!” Senior Scribe Tea Leaves turned away, storming back toward the fortress. “Now leave at once and do what you’ve been hired to do!”

“Well, this was productive,” Rita grumbled. She looked up at Tap as they were escorted away. “Any more bright ideas?”

“Yeah. I’m fucking starving.” He nodded toward the little town on the nearby shore. “Let’s hit up Arbu.”

|[ /_\ ]|[ /_\ ]|[BAR]|

Chapter 6 - Accountability

~~~|*/\*|~~~

So I should probably actually start talking about my dreams. That’s what this was supposed to be about.

And what dreams would you like to discuss?

Uh… I guess the earliest ones. I started having this one right after my dad and I got split up. Last time I had it… maybe a month or two ago? I try to black out so I don’t remember my dreams. Probably had it sooner than that and I just don’t remember it.

That’s quite alright. What is the dream about?

Well… it changes sometimes, but usually I’m a foal again, standing on one side of a stream, and I see my dad on the other. He turns around and starts to walk away, so I try and follow him, but when I step into the stream, suddenly it’s like a whole river. The water gets deeper and the river gets wider as I try to cross, and soon I’m swimming after him. While all this is happening, he’s just walking away. I usually try shouting, telling him to wait, but… he just keeps walking… until I can’t see him anymore. Hold on...

Oh, do you want to get up?

Nah, I’m just getting comfortable… but yeah, no matter how fast I swim, I can never get to him. I’ve tried jumping over the stream before, and I just splash down in it like a jackass.

What if you weren’t to try and follow him?

I’ve tried that too. Same thing happens. And then I’m just alone, and crying, and I wake up.

Do you blame him, perhaps?

For what?

For leaving you. In the dream, of course.

No… I mean… I don’t understand why he has to go… There’s nothing out there. I want him to come back, but he never does. I… I just… I wish there was something I could do to make him stay. Some way to make him come back.

It’s alright. Just relax… there… Our dreams don’t always make sense. Believe me, I know exactly how troubling that can be, but I also know that your father loved you very much.

What do you think it means? The dream, I mean.

Well… I’m no expert, but… I know how you feel it was unfair that he was taken from you. Your dreams are reflecting that, in my opinion. You are helpless to stop him from leaving, no matter how hard you try. You were too young to stop them, and… well, it sounds as though you feel guilty.

Yeah… that’s pretty spot on…

But he told you to run. He wanted you to be safe, because he knew that you wouldn’t survive if you stayed with him. You shouldn’t feel guilty for doing what he wanted.

Yeah… yeah, I know.

And you know what else?

Hmm?

I think he would be proud of the pony you’ve become. You’re very brave, and you’re very sweet.

Heh… well… I don’t know about that, but… thank you.

~~~|*/\*|~~~

Chapter Six – Accountability

|[  7 ]|[  7 ]|[o8- ]|

Arbu wasn’t as clean or as fancy as Tenpony, and it certainly wasn’t as safe as Tenpony. Naturally Double Tap felt very much at home there. Several familiar faces lit up at the sight of him as he and Paharita passed through the front gate, exchanging nods and greetings. The residents of Arbu were a very friendly lot, for the most part. He prided himself on the fact that he mostly remembered their names.

However, something didn’t seem quite right as he walked through the Arbu commons. A stale tension clung to everyone’s smiles. A colt sat, sobbing and alone. Several other ponies had redness to their eyes, as though they had been crying recently, fighting to maintain their cheerful demeanor as Tap met their passing gazes. Several ponies stood around the cooking fires, staying warm as the rain continued at barely a sprinkle. He immediately recognized the green mare and her milk-colored, one-eyed companion. They looked to be having a heated discussion, frequently jabbing their hooves off toward the residence of Arbu’s craziest, oldest stallion.

The green mare arched her brows as the one-eyed mare gestured toward him, abruptly halting their conversation. Rita had already parted ways with him, haggling for a bowl of stew.

“Good to see you again! What brings ya round these parts?”

“Hungry, same as always.” Smiles and nods were exchanged. “Emerald, did something happen here earlier?”

“Well, shoot, ya got me… we had a lil’ scrape with some bandits.” She flashed her smile again as Tap’s expression darkened. “Nothin’ we couldn’t handle, mind you!”

He nodded slowly. “Any losses?”

“Only a few on our side, but you know we always try an’ look on the bright side o’ things.” Emerald gave a single nod. “We’ll be jus’ fine.”

“And did any of them survive?”

“Mmhmm, but we shouldn’t be havin’ no trouble from that lot in the days ahead.”

“Good,” he breathed.

“If you do, though,” Rita interrupted, suddenly at his side again, “you know we have a discount rate for bandits and raiders!”

“Ah remember!” Emerald said with a smile. “Don’tchu worry yer feathery lil’ noggin.” Rita giggled and bounded off again. Emerald returned her attention to Tap. “Might not need hired help much longer, though.”

He cocked a brow. “Oh yeah? You started training your guards better?”

The mare snickered and waved her hoof dismissively. “Naw, nothin’ like that. That Stable-Dweller an’ her friends stopped in right when we needed her! She’s really changin’ things ‘round these parts.”

Tap felt a jolt down his spine. He couldn’t decide if it was anxiety or excitement. “Really now…” His eye twitched as he feigned disinterest. “I hear she’s a pretty big deal. Nothing I haven’t heard of before, though. I don’t think she’ll be around much longer.”

“We’ll jus’ see, won’t we?” Emerald shrugged, laughing. “That DJ Ponethree sure loves to talk about her, though. Ah recon he’s got a crush on her.”

 

“Wouldn’t know. Not a fan.” Tap glanced away, chewing the inside of his cheek. “That Stable-Dweller say if she was coming back?”

“Well, Ah recon she would be, seein’ as we told her to come back fer dinner.”

 He nodded and cleared his throat. “Anyway, gimmie something to eat, yeah?”

One delicious bowl of radigator stew later, he was approaching a home that occupied a shop on the very edge of the former strip mall. There were no holes in his memory regarding the family that lived there. An enormous, grizzled-looking stallion looked up from the tanning rack out front as Tap came closer. His entire left ear was missing, and a dozen long, deep scars ran along his fore and hind legs. He wore a thick leather vest that was covered in bite marks and a necklace of sharp, pointy teeth. A grin curled his lips.

With a smoker’s gravel in his voice that almost sounded like it belonged to a ghoul, he shouted, “I thought I heard you yapping around, you scar covered son-of-a bitch!”

“Steel Trap, you fat fuck,” Tap retorted, “take a look in the mirror!”

The pony burst out laughing, lumbering toward Tap and rearing up to give him a hug. Tap felt his spine pop in multiple places. “How’ve you been, little man?”

“I’m still breathing, aren’t I?” He took a deep breath as he was released from the masculine embrace, grinning up at the stallion that towered over him. “I heard you had some trouble today. Did any—”

“Nah, we’re all doing just fine. Shook up the wife, though.” Steel Trap looked over his wither at the door behind him. “Skimmer was just out here a minute ago. You watch yourself around her, now. No funny business.”

Tap gave a toothy grin and held up a forehoof. “No funny business. You have my word.” He stepped past Steel, then turned, ears perked. “Oh, and Rita might be stopping by to talk about a taxidermy project. You’ve been warned.”

Steel Trap snickered, nodded, and picked up his tanning knife between his teeth.

The home of Steel Trap and his family had supposedly been a hardware store in the pre-war days, which was coincidentally appropriate. On the outside, it didn’t look drastically different from the other homes in Arbu, but they had renovated the interior to make it into a proper home. Most of Arbu’s residents specialized in cooking or hunting, and while Steel Trap’s family could certainly hunt and cook, they seemed to favor crafting over everything else.

The interior of their home had a stale, wooden scent that was supposedly considered pleasant once upon a time. The large, cluttered chamber he stood in acted as a living room, and also where they sold their goods. Painted carvings lined the pony-crafted shelves and hung from the walls, and half a dozen mannequins were spread around the room, each of them wearing radigator leather that had been crafted into clothing and armor. A few taxidermied animals also occupied the space, the largest of which being an enormous, rearing bear that looked to be missing patches of fur. It was no fault of Steel’s; yao guai were simply hideous. Some of Skimmer’s artwork seemed to be on display, but he couldn’t tell if they intended to sell any of it.

All in all, Tap considered it a testament to what a pony could accomplish if they stopped whining about the state of the world and did the best they could with what was available.

Several colts of varying age stampeded toward the door. He stepped out of the way, receiving an unintelligible barrage of hellos in passing. Their mother nodded to him as she took her time following them. She was a sturdy mare, with an air of experience and intelligence about her that most of the residents of Arbu just seemed to lack. A long, pale scar stretched from her left cheek, over her muzzle, all the way to the right side of her forehead. She wasn’t wearing much in the way of clothes besides a series of bracelets and necklaces decorated with bones.

“Evening, Nette.” He glanced back as she walked by. “Where’s the fire?”

“Oh, they’re just getting all the jitters out before I send them to bed for the evening.” Annette paused at the door. “Steelie already talked to you about Skimmer, right?”

Tap chewed his lower lip. “Kinda.”

“She’s almost old enough that we won’t be able to tell her what she can and can’t do…” She looked beyond the doorway, watching her children playing outside. “I know that we can’t stop her from running off after you, but she’s still my little girl. My only girl. Promise me you’ll keep her safe.”

“Anything so much as brushes against her; your husband will have new body parts to make jewelry out of.”

Annette took a long, slow breath through her nose, smiling. “That’s what I thought. You’re a good pony, and I know you’ll make her happy.”

She stepped out, the sound of laughing foals echoing into their home.

Tap turned and headed for the back of the ground floor. A painting caught his attention. Skimmer had painted the silhouette of a unicorn leaning against a concrete wall, with a pair of silenced pistols levitating and ready to fire. Grinning, he shook his head and pressed on. Through a doorway in the back lie the kitchen, full of appliances Steel and Nette had hauled in from Manehattan. Along the back wall was a pair of staircases. The staircase to the right led up to the bedrooms. The staircase to the left led down to the basement.

The basement was a dimly lit maze of half-finished projects, and the low lighting allowed him to see that some of the wood they had harvested emitted a soft glow. Tap exhaled quietly, arching his back as he began to slink through the unfinished merchandise. A lone couch sat in a clearing on the other side of the room, surrounded by easels and buckets of paint.

“Long time no see,” came a small voice from behind him.

Double Tap glanced back, meeting the yellow-eyed gaze of a filly that was just a bit too young to be called a full grown mare. She wore a finely oiled and intricately crafted radigator hide, its toothy snout hanging over her head like a hood. A few locks of her curly mane had fallen across her face, reminding him of algae floating on the surface of pond water. Her smile practically radiated warmth.

He shook his head with a grin. “You say that every time you see me.”

Skimmer nudged a stuffed radigator aside and stepped next to him, giving an affectionate nuzzle. “And how often do I see you?”

Tap shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Once or twice a week, usually.”

“Well, that feels like a long time!”

Tap snorted out a laugh, and she giggled along with him. “How have you been?” he asked.

“I’ve been getting by, like always.” She shrugged, then bolted up straight. “You know what’s coming up, though, don’t you?”

“Uhhhh…” Tap furrowed his brow, pretending that he had forgotten. “Shit, I dunno.”

She frowned and prodded him with a forehoof. “Oh come on, guess!”

“Your…” Tap glanced down at her, fighting back his smile. She grinned, her radigator hood bobbing as she nodded. “Birthday?”

Skimmer pranced in place, the zipper of her radigator suit jingling along. “My birthday!” She giggled quietly, wiggling in a bit closer. “So… when are you going take me with you on one of your adventures?”

The smile on his lips lost some of its brightness, his brow weighted down with concern. “Come on now, we talked about this…”

“Aw, please?” She leaned away from him, meeting his gaze with big, pleading eyes. “I’m getting much better at sneaking around! Honest! I’ll bet you didn’t even know I was behind you until I said something!”

“Skimmer, you know I can’t let you come with us.” He lifted a fetlock to her chin, gently rubbing. “It’s too dangerous, and you’re too young.”

The young mare pouted. “But you said that last year!”

Though her display was very cute, Tap maintained his resolve. “And I meant it. I mean it this year, too. I don’t want you to end up in a ditch somewhere, especially not because of me.”

“Fiiiine…” she said with a deep sigh. “It just gets so boring around here. Pa wouldn’t even let me take shots at the bandits. I know that there’s a whole world out there, and I want to see it with you more than anything.”

“You’ll see it soon enough.” He nuzzled her on the forehead. “But not until I know that you’re ready.”

Skimmer stepped away, then turned back toward him, lidding her eyes and batting her lashes. “Well… if you won’t let me go with you, can we at least—”

He narrowed his eyes, grinning. “Not a chance, Glade Skimmer. Your dad would skin me alive.” Skimmer nickered and scowled, but Tap just stuck his forehoof under her hood and tussled her mane. “Plus, I promised no funny business, so… maybe on your birthday.”

She nodded slowly, her scowl melting back into a smile. “Pa still thinks you’re bad for me, doing what you do for a living, but…” Skimmer looked away, her ears briefly folding back. “He’s killed ponies before. I’ve killed a pony before. I don’t really see what the big deal is.”

“What I do is different, and you know that. You and your family do what you have to do to survive. Sometimes, that means you’ve gotta kill a few ponies if they try and fuck up your day, but that’s life. Me, though… ponies come to me when they want other ponies dead, and they pay me to get it done. It’s not really clean work.” He grinned. “Sure beats splashing around hunting radigators, though.”

Her face scrunched up at that, leaning closer to him. “Don’t you start talking shit about hunting radigators or so help me I will lay you out!”

Tap snickered, glancing down at the back of her head as she rested against his shoulder. “As long as he doesn’t hold it against me, I guess.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I mean, I’m not trying to drag you off into the night or anything.”

“No, he doesn’t blame you. He knows that you’ve been trying to change my mind, actually. I think Ma understands. She told me that, way back when, her Pa wasn’t too fond of what my Pa did for a living. But she followed her heart, and me and my brothers happened, so I guess it wasn’t so bad.” She giggled again, nuzzling the underside of his chin.

“You’re really serious about this, huh?”

“You’re the only boy I’ve ever had these feelings for. I knew from the first time I saw you that you were the one for me.” Tap took a breath to protest, but Skimmer cut him off. “And before you say it, yes, I know you get around. Thank Rita for that. I don’t mind sharing you if it means I get to be with you. I mean that.”

“But—”

Skimmer stomped her forehoof. “No buts! Ma and Pa have been trying to talk me out of it at every turn for the last year and a half, and I’m not about to give up now!” She raised her head proudly, donning an eager grin. “Someday soon, I’ll be leaving this shanty-town with you to live the life of an assassin.”

“Well,” he smiled, lifting a hoof to her breast, “you’ve got the attitude down. I’ll give you that.”

|[ /_\ ]|[ /_\ ]|[ /_\ ]|

Paharita was wrapping up her conversation with Steel Trap when Tap and Skimmer made their way up the stairs. From the amount of enthusiasm in her muffled voice, he could only assume that Steel had agreed to do the project. Tap could also assume that Rita would expect him to bring Littlepip’s entire body back after completing the hit.

I hope that cum-chugging feather-duster didn’t give him specifics. He flopped down on a couch that was in fairly good condition, and Skimmer settled beside him. Would he even get mad if he knew who I’ve been tracking? She did help them out when she and her crew were here earlier.

“You’ve got that serious look on your face,” said Skimmer, bringing him out of his thoughts. She had her lips twisted into a frown. “Is there something troubling you?”

“Been having a hard time with my latest contract.” He glanced away, one ear flicking. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Skimmer tilted her head. “If you’re worried about it, I’m pretty sure I should be, too.”

Tap grinned and gave her a sideways glance. “I’m pretty sure I already have a manager.”

“You don’t really think you’re getting off this couch without telling me what your deal is, do you?” The young mare cocked a brow.

“A threat?” He leaned back, feigning shock. “You’ll regret that, little lady!”

Both of his forehooves sank into the couch as he rammed her in the side with his head, bowling her over. She giggled and flailed all the while, trying to squirm away from his playful jabs. Moments later, her brothers stampeded back into the house. He and Skimmer paused as several sets of eyes focused on them. She looked up at him and grinned. In seconds, Tap was covered in colts, all of them biting at him and tugging at his mane.

“Cheating!” he shouted from under the pony pile, shaking a hoof at her as she stepped around her mother and out the door, laughing every step of the way. He attempted to levitate them off, but they refused to let go. “A little help, Nette?”

Fighting back her own laughter, Annette trotted closer. “Boys, that’s not very polite. You’re all supposed to be getting ready for bed, anyway.”

“Glade Skimmer doesn’t have to get ready for bed!” one of the younger colts whined.

“Glade Skimmer is just a few weeks away from being an adult.” She met Tap’s gaze as the colts dismounted him. “And she also has a guest.”

“More like she has a boyfriend,” muttered the oldest.

Tap snorted, using his telekinesis to flick the oldest colt on the forehead. Outside, Skimmer had clearly crossed Paharita’s path.

“Isn’t it past your curfew, little girl?” he heard the griffon ask.

Skimmer glanced back at Tap as he opened the door. She cocked a brow and turned her attention back to Rita. “The only little girl I see out here is you, chicken-puss.”

“Come to think of it, you’re bigger every time I see you!” Rita leaned forward, getting right in Skimmer’s face. “What are they feeding you out here?”

Skimmer glanced to Tap again, suddenly very pale.

Tap’s gaze sharpened into a glare. “You’re an asshole, Rita. Go annoy someone else.”

“It’s okay,” Skimmer offered, regaining her composure and grinning as she locked eyes with the griffon. “I know I’m not pecking around for worms, at least.”

“Well aren’t you just precious.” Rita pinched Glade’s cheeks, then reared up and yawned, the tip of her tongue curling. “You kids have fun playing with dolls or whatever. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

Rita shoved her way between them, letting the door slam behind her. Tap looked to Skimmer, sighed, and shrugged. Skimmer nudged him several times.

“So are you going to tell me what’s got you down or what?”

In an attempt to change the subject, Tap mumbled, “Wasn’t your dad out here?”

“Um…” The filly did a quick visual sweep of the Arbu Commons. She lifted a foreleg, gesturing in Steel Trap’s direction. “Yeah, he’s right over there. Nice try, by the way, but you’re not off the hook.”

With a long groan, Tap tilted his head skyward, staring off into the clouds. He realized that the rain had stopped. She nudged him with her nose, but he continued to avoid eye contact.

“I know you’re concerned and all, but I really just want you to…” He trailed off as he noticed a blur of movement in the air, rapidly approaching the settlement.

Instinctively, he fished a dash inhaler out of his pockets and took a hit to sharpen his vision. The distant blur was resolved into a sky bandit, Calamity beating his wings out in front. With dash coursing through his bloodstream, there wasn’t a split second of hesitation. He bolted out of their line of sight and hid behind several drums of rainwater in the time it took Glade Skimmer to identify his use of narcotics and call him out on it.

“Yoooooooouuuu        beeeeeeetteeerr    nnnoot  leet Pa see you doing that around me.” She stood there, blinking for a moment. Finally, she turned and furrowed her brow, marching up to him. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

Tap peered around the side of one of the drums, his brow twitching as he watched the sky bandit touch down less than a dozen yards away. “Okay,” he whispered, ducking back into cover. “I’ll tell you what has me so freaked the fuck out, but you have to promise me you won’t tell anypony, and I mean an-ee-po-ne. Are we clear?”

“I still haven’t told anyone about that time you let me watch you and Rita fuck.” She shivered, nickering, biting her lower lip, and flicking her tail all at once. “Can we do that sometime? With the blindfold and everything?”

“Birthday. Now listen close, cause I’m not repeating this.” He took a deep breath and checked his surroundings before looking her in the eyes again. “I’ve been hired to kill Littlepip, and every member of her posse.”

“Oh…” she glanced in the direction of the sky bandit. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“And I’m pretty sure they know, so I’ve been following them around and trying to figure out a way to ambush them.”

Skimmer nodded along, frowning. “No offense, but that’s kind of shitty. Littlepip has been helping ponies all over. She’s a hero.”

“Yeah, everyone keeps saying that…” He sighed quietly. “I don’t really feel that great about it either, but it’s a contract, so I have to do it. This is part of being an assassin.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to hope that they leave soon, because I’m not turning Arbu into a war-zone for caps.” Tap peeked over the top of a barrel, gritting his teeth as Littlepip looked right at him. He dropped behind the barrels again. “If I can just figure out where they’re going ahead of time, I can probably rig the area with explosives or something. Maybe bring a building down on them.”

Skimmer looked from Tap to the Commons several times, her lips pursing into a wide grin. For a moment, Tap was clueless to her intentions. As she turned toward Littlepip and started to walk, it clicked. With wide, panicked eyes, he threw his forelegs around her hind legs, dragging her back behind the barrels with him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Skimmer waggled her brows. “I’m going to go spy on her.”

“What? No!” He chomped his teeth together with a loud clack, hissing “No you’re not!” without unclenching his jaw.

“She doesn’t even know who I am. How can she possibly know that I’m spying on her for you?” She tensed up and pushed him off, getting back to her hooves and attempting a second approach.

One of the drums nearly tipped as Tap pulled her back with his telekinesis. “You don’t understand. She has more luck than me.” She gave him a blank stare, her brow leveled. “I’m not fucking kidding. It’s like she’s invincible.” The young mare crossed her forelegs over her breast. Tap released her with a snort. “Fucking fine. Just don’t get yourself killed, okay?”

Skimmer snickered, shaking her head. “She’s. A. Hero. Shooting unarmed mares in public isn’t exactly in character for ponies like her. Besides, this will prove that I can be useful. You’ll see.”

He watched her depart with anxiety slowly crushing him into the dirt.

Fucking hell, there they are.

Littlepip, Steelhooves, Calamity, Xenith, and their phoenix, Pyrelight. Velvet Remedy was there too.

For whatever reason, Littlepip and her death squad weren’t putting holes in him, despite the fact that she had looked right at him no more than a few minutes ago. His first thought was that they were in public, and it wasn’t public knowledge that he and his feathery companion had been hired to assassinate the wasteland’s newest hero and her entourage. He couldn’t tell if it was professional courtesy or a just desire to maintain a good reputation, but he appreciated their restraint either way. On the other hoof, he began to wonder if Littlepip was playing some kind of mind game, waiting to see if he would lose his cool and make some kind of mistake.

Skimmer walked right past the sky bandit and its famous passengers to join her father, looking over her wither to give Tap a very obvious wink. It was more than he could bear; Skimmer had made her decision and gone past the point of no return. He turned and headed back inside. Rita had claimed a couch for herself, sprawled across it with both wings half spread, snoring quietly as one of her paws twitched in her sleep. She muttered something unintelligible and reached down to scratch her exposed tummy. The urge to wake her up and escape was overwhelming, but he was certain that everyone was enjoying the peace while she slept.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a small and comforting possibility that Littlepip had failed to notice him. As he explored that possibility, the possibility that Rita was right—and that Littlepip had no idea who he was—also began to seem credible. Not entirely believable, but maybe, just maybe.

Upstairs, he could hear Annette reading her foals a bedtime story. He began to eavesdrop in an attempt to calm himself. At first, listening in made him feel warm and fuzzy, but the longer he listened, the more he felt an intense sadness welling up inside. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake it. As he came down from the dash, he felt sluggish, his eyelids growing heavy. He climbed into a chair and tried to forget about everything. A swig from his flask helped. The noise outside and the noise upstairs melded into a uniform hum, and the chair was very comfortable.

 I just need to rest my eyes, he told himself. Just for a moment.

“You can’t drink it away; no matter how hard you try.” His breath caught in his throat as he felt Lady Luck caress the side of his face. He could feel his eyelids fluttering, but they refused to open. “You must ask: should one weep for a bringer of death, or celebrate his passing?” 

She stood before an enormous bay window, wearing an expensive looking dress and grinning her sharp, wicked grin. Miles of Equestria spread out behind her, partially blanketed in clouds. The landscape below was a patchwork of farms and towns surrounding a dense urban center, but he could also see the silhouette of a city that seemed to rise out of the clouds themselves. He realized a moment later that they were aboard some sort of airship. Much closer, in the reflection of the window, he could see ponies in fancy suits and dresses that slowly sashayed around the room, ignoring them. A live band played up on a stage at the far end of the room. Lady Luck narrowed her eyes, putting her hooves at the base of his neck, the heat of her breath rolling against his face.

“The die have not yet been cast.” A series of flashes lit up the sky, many of those towns and cities swallowed up by balefire. The music abruptly stopped. Screaming followed. “It’s not too late to change your wager.”

Tap jolted upright, blinded as light flooded back into his vision. Glade Skimmer looked up at him from the floor, frowning and slowly putting her hooves back under her.

“You jerk! What was that for?” She nipped him on the shoulder once she was standing again. “I was just trying to wake you up to tell you what I found out.”

“Sorry…” Lady Luck’s grin lingered behind Skimmer, and he looked away. “You startled me. What uh…” He lifted a fetlock to his eyes, gently rubbing. “How long was I out, actually?”

“Not too long.” She shrugged. “Littlepip and her friends left, though.”

Hearing her say that brought on a wave of relief. He sighed softly and nodded. “Did you find out anything good?”

Skimmer nodded excitedly. “Mmhmm! I know where they’re going!” Tap leaned closer, ears perked. “Bucklyn Cross.” Any eagerness he had felt moments before was instantly evaporated. He felt his jaw go slack, and the young mare cocked her head. “Is that… bad?”

|[  7 ]|[o’o ]|[o8- ]|

“Water talismans?” Rita glanced away from the binoculars for a moment, locking eyes with Skimmer. “She went to Bucklyn Cross for water talismans.”

“That’s what they were talking about right before they left, and well…” Skimmer cradled a rifle scope between her fetlocks, squeezing one eye shut as she looked through it with the other. “There they are. The Steel Rangers don’t look too happy about this. Oh…”

A single explosion lit up the night just shy of where the Sky Bandit had landed. It was visible even without something to magnify the bridge.

Tap jumped to his hooves, eyes wide. “Fuck shit!”

“Nooooo! This is really, really bad!” Rita ruffled her feathers, dragging her free claw against the gnarled wood of the pier. “Okay, it looks like they’re talking now. That’s good.”

“Why didn’t they let us camp out up there? We would have been in the perfect spot for an ambush!” Tap spent a few moments stomping and thrashing around, bucking at the air. “Fucking Steel Rangers!”

Rita ran a claw through her head-feathers. “I hope they don’t dock our pay for this. I mean, we did ask if we could wait for them there! This is kinda their fault!”

“So why do the Steel Rangers want Littlepip dead, anyway?” Skimmer passed her rifle scope to Tap and leaned forward onto all fours. Tap noted her arched brow before peering through the scope at the bridge. She added, “All she’s been doing is cleaning up the wasteland. It seems like they would actually benefit from having her around. Is it like an ideological thing?”

“Ideo-what?” he muttered without looking up from the levitating scope.

All along the remaining strut of the Bucklyn Bridge, there were ponies training their guns on the invading party. Tap was surprised to see that not all of them were armored. He chewed his lower lip. Against anyone else, the odds would be in their favor, but against Littlepip, he doubted that the odds favored the Steel Rangers.

“They didn’t really say why they wanted her dead,” answered Rita, “but I think it has something to do with Steelhooves going AWOL and taking some of their guys to form Applejack’s Rangers.”

“Oh,” said Skimmer.

An uncomfortable silence settled over them as they continued to watch from a safe distance. That silence was broken as a single gunshot rang through the coming night. Velvet dropped before the echo had faded. The brief quiet that followed was punctuated with a roar of gunfire and the shrieks of missiles. Tap lowered the rifle scope and sat back on his haunches as bursts of light fitfully illuminated the night sky. The three of them watched without a word until the sounds of a firefight gradually faded into infrequent pops, and then nothing.

Rita stood and stretched her wings. “I think I should go make sure we still have an employer.”

“Yeah,” Tap mumbled, still staring at the bridge. “You do that.”

|[ /_\ ]|[  7 ]|[o’o ]|

Paharita had yet to return, and enough time had passed that Tap was beginning to worry. He glanced to Skimmer, who followed him with her eyes as he paced in front of her couch. The basement lights dimmed every so often, buzzing back to life moments later. Every time it happened, his ears perked and he stopped and looked around, expecting to see a griffon appear out of thin air. When no such griffon materialized, he felt more anxious than disappointed.

“I should have gone with her,” he muttered.

“Just calm down. I’m sure she’s fine.” The young mare reached out for him, getting him to pause by resting a hoof on his shoulder. “She waited a good long while before flying over there, so I’m sure things had blown over by the time she arrived. If it was really that bad, she would have turned around and come right back.”

“Any normal pony would do that, but she acts like such a damn child sometimes…” He went back to pacing, her hoof sliding off of him. “That stupid, feathery cunt. I’m gonna go over there and make sure she’s okay.”

Skimmer got up to follow him, moving to bar his path. “What if you leave now, and she comes back while you’re out? Just stay here.”

Tap groaned and tapped a forehoof against the floor, then turned back toward the couch. “She’s such a fucking headache!”

She cocked a brow. “Why do you work with her if you hate her so much?”

“Don’t ever tell her this, because I’ll never hear the end of it, but she’s the best damn locksmith, gunsmith, and computer technician I’ve ever come across. If I worked with anyone else, they wouldn’t be able to do her job nearly as well as she can. Also, she’s the one with the connections.” He glanced away, adding, “And she’s really good in bed.”

“Is that a fact,” snorted Skimmer. She flopped down on the couch, propping her head up with a knee. “Well I doubt she’s anywhere near as good a sharpshooter as I am. I just wish my rifle wasn’t so damn loud.”

A tiny spark of glee flickered in Tap’s mind as he realized what to get Skimmer for her birthday. He realized, as Skimmer cocked a brow, that he was grinning.

She inhaled, intent on speaking, but the words died on her lips as a muffled gunshot bled into the building. They looked up at the ceiling, in the direction of the neighboring residences. Tap turned and made his way to the exit, his ear flicking as he heard hooves behind him.

“Wait here,” Double Tap commanded from the stairs.

He heard Annette and Steel above him, their exchange too frantic and muffled for him to comprehend. He scrambled up the stairs, getting a glimpse of the loft. One of their younger colts was sobbing hysterically. Steel was in the process of barreling toward the stairs, still looking back at his family.

“Stay down and out of sight,” he barked.

Outside, there were more shouts, and then screams.

“What the fuck?!” Tap called as Steel Trap stormed past him.

The lumbering stallion glanced back at him, double barreled shotgun rigged to his side. “Probably those damn bandits from earlier!” Tap followed him, but Steel flicked his tail, pausing at the door. “We’ll take care of this; you keep Skimmer and the kids inside!” Steel took two steps outside and froze. “Oh hell,” Tap heard him rasp.

He wasn’t the first to fire. The crack of a low caliber rifle sounded from the far end of the Arbu strip. After that, the air outside filled with the reverberation of gunshots. Steel Trap pivoted, bit down on the trigger, and charged out of sight. Tap pulled both pistols and started after him, but faltered when he remembered what Steel had asked. He spared a glance back through the kitchen, noting that the staircases were clear. Somewhere in the commotion, he heard a mare repeatedly cry “Rape!” until her shouts were cut short. The boom of an anti-machine rifle rattled dust from the ceiling directly above the front door. Seconds later, a shrieking sound cut through the night.

Tap was already lunging away from the door as Annette screamed from the floor above, “Get down!”

An explosion tore through the ceiling, scattering debris and burning chunks of meat and bone in front of him. Flames licked their way around the edge of the hole, slowly spilling over the floor where larger bits had landed. As Tap lifted himself back to his hooves, a feeling of rage induced nausea swirling in the pit of his stomach, a single pony stepped into view, her zebra-patterned rifle levitating at the ready.

Double Tap met Littlepip’s cold, furious gaze and felt his blood boil. He couldn’t afford to blink, but his mind began to fill with scenarios.

Both pistols snapped forward and he advanced, squeezing the triggers until both magazines were empty. She bled, but remained standing. His brains exploded through the back of his skull.

-^v-^v------

She was a sharpshooter. A straight charge would be suicide. He threw himself sideways just as she leveled her rifle, several rounds tickling over his coat the instant before he landed behind a stuffed yao guai. He pulled the pins on three grenades and lobbed them in her direction. She threw them right back, repainting the living room with his insides.

-^v-^v------

She was also a unicorn. Grenades could only be used if he had the element of surprise. He threw himself sideways just as she leveled her rifle, several rounds tickling over his coat the instant before he landed behind a stuffed yao guai. He picked the yao guai up with his levitation and hurled it at her. She caught it, as he expected she would, but in that time he had closed the distance between them, knives as the ready. He was too fast for her to stop the hailstorm of knives he unleashed. He cut her to ribbons and put two in her forehead just to be safe.

-0-

The variables were uncertain, and his gut told him the odds were against him, but the stakes were too high to back down. All bets were final. He lunged, but never hit the ground. Instead, he was flung sideways, slammed against the wall and held there. His breath caught in his throat, an unseen force squeezing it shut. Littlepip’s horn glowed in the flickering firelight. He tried to pry his pistols from the wall, but her telekinesis was far stronger. She stepped closer, her eyes sweeping over him, inspecting him.

“Did you know?” she growled.

“Go fuck yourself,” he hissed.

Littlepip narrowed her eyes and leveled her rifle. At the same time, Tap focused on the floor under Pip’s hooves, his horn flaring. She was thrown across the room in the same instant that she pulled the trigger, three rounds from her rifle missing their mark.  Her concentration broken, he dropped to the floor, snagging both pistols before they could do the same. He had seen Littlepip crash into a shelf, taking it with her as she fell behind the couch Rita had been sleeping on earlier.

Tap crouched behind a mannequin dressed in radigator-leather armor, peering out around the side of it. The airy sound Littlepip’s rifle had made gave him the distinct impression that it was silenced. Meanwhile, the fire continued to spread, slowly trickling down the walls as it rolled along the ceiling.

“You asshole!” he shouted over the roar and crackle of the fire. “Who the fuck do you think you are? These are just fucking radigator hunters! They haven’t done anything wrong!”

“They’re cannibals! Everyone with the Arbu mark is a fucking cannibal!” He couldn’t see her, but her voice carried with all the intensity of the blaze above them. “They’ve been selling pony meat to every trader that came through here!”

“Have you lost your damn mind? That’s bullshit! You don’t even know these ponies, and you’re just blowing them away like a fucking raider!”

“They’re a blight on pony kind!” she spat. “Whether you believe me or not, if you try and stop me, I’ll consider you one of them!”

“One of what? A good pony with a wife and children?”

As the words left his lips, the reality of it all hit him square in the breast. Steel Trap, Annette, and one or more of their sons were dead. There was no telling how many other Arbu residents she had already gunned down. He felt a shuddering gasp rise in his throat, but he gritted his teeth and choked it down until he felt bile in its place.

“These were my friends, you mother fucker!” His throat felt raw, but he screamed even louder. “You’re fucking sick and I’m shutting you the fuck down!”

A shadow danced along the wall as she got back to her hooves. Tap knew that Littlepip had accuracy and telekinetic strength to her advantage, which meant that speed and evasion were essential. Now was not the time to let emotions lead to careless mistakes. He owed them all that much, at the very least.

Double Tap took a deep breath through a dash inhaler, slowing the chaos around him to a crawl. His altered perception made it easier to ignore the rising temperature and thickening smoke. A decoy manifested from his horn and galloped to the far side of the room. As expected, Littlepip broke cover, firing another three rounds into his illusion. Tap held both pistols over the side of a mannequin and fired in her direction. Before he had even stopped squeezing the triggers, the mannequin began to glow, lifting a few inches off the floor. He pulled the pin on a grenade and rolled it to her side of the room, counting heartbeats until it went off. Scraps of furniture and wooden fragments sailed through the air, and the mannequin dropped.

Suddenly, three solid thumps caused it to rock on its base, and it burst into flames. The muffled report of Littlepip’s rifle was nearly lost under the roar of the growing inferno, but the muted glow of his telekinesis was similarly concealed by the wavering light all around them.

With the mannequin levitating in front of him, he sprinted forward. She tried to yank it out of his levitation field, forcing him to sidestep to stay out of her line of fire. He responded with more blind fire, attempting to force her back into cover. From behind his moving barrier, he caught glimpses of tufts of foam exploding from the couch as he punched it full of holes. She retaliated with blind fire of her own, her bullets striking the mannequin and his immediate surroundings in groups of three. One of the rounds skimmed his flank, leaving a burning line in his flesh.

It had become evident that she had the rifle set to fire in three round bursts, and it had been enchanted with an incendiary effect. He filed the new information under the growing list of things to keep in mind while fighting her.

Before Tap could squeeze off another volley of rounds, a loud crack hung in the air from above them. The ceiling lurched, and then a large section simply dropped. Tap threw himself out of the way as the front half of the shop was blanketed in jagged, burning wood. The mannequin he had been hiding behind and the couch Littlepip had been using as cover were lost under the flaming wreckage, and the front exit was completely blocked. Tap’s stomach lurched as he noticed the remains of Annette and two of her children smoldering in the debris. He had lost track of Littlepip, but with a quick visual sweep, he caught a glimpse of her as she ducked behind a crate.

There was still half an immolated room’s worth of clutter between himself and Littlepip. He focused on a sturdy looking table and upended it, but when he tried to step behind it, his hooves met nothing but air. The lift of her levitation left him feeling weightless, all points of reference gone, his hooves scrambling to stay in contact with the increasingly distant floor. He grabbed the stuffed yao guai with his telekinesis before she could finish lining up a shot. It promptly erupted into flames as her bullets tore though it, and he sent it flying in her direction. She caught it, but not before he could lob another grenade her way as well. She caught that too, forcing it just a little bit closer to him between his attempts to push it to its intended destination.

It was a shoving match he couldn’t win. Slowly, Littlepip lifted the yao guai out of the way, her rifle lying in wait. Tap focused on the burning yao guai and squinted, readying his flash spell.

After the burst of light, he felt her grip weaken just enough to break it with a downward push. His hooves made contact with the floor again, and the grenade made contact with the ceiling, blowing another hole in the floor above them. A burning bed tumbled through, completely obscuring her. Tap vaulted over another mannequin, slowing the bed’s fall with his magic as he tried to close the gap. He was just a few yards away when the bed was flung aide, meeting Littlepip’s furious glare.

Nothing in his immediate vicinity was thick enough to use as cover, but he knew he could cross the distance to her in just a few paces. He threw all his weight into a gallop and shifted left as she attempted to line up a shot. The glow of his horn was all but invisible in the flickering blaze that was rapidly spreading through the room. Tap’s telekinetic kick caused her rifle to jerk just as she pulled the trigger, unloading another three rounds that zipped past his ears. He tried to shove again, but her rifle barely budged. She gritted her teeth, one eye closed, and pulled the trigger. Tap dropped to his side, sliding along the floor with both pistols leveled.

Another three rounds streaked toward Tap, each one closer than the last. The tip of his horn caught fire as he felt a bullet clip it. The wall behind Littlepip splintered and rattled until he clicked empty, his armor piercing rounds missing their mark, save for one that skirted her cheek and etched a thin, bleeding line in her flesh.

The crate shuddered as he struck it with all four hooves, giving it a magic assisted buck to send it sliding back in an effort to pin Littlepip against the wall. He coiled in on himself, holstering his pistols and heaving himself upright as the barrel of the rifle swung down toward him, and then he released like a spring. His forehoof lashed out and struck the silencer of her rifle with enough force to send the rifle flying out of her telekinetic grasp. The whole room spun as he twisted his body, his rear hooves thumping down on the crate. She was drawing a revolver, eyes glowing like embers, but his knives left his sleeves much faster.

Littlepip’s eyes widened as he swung his forelegs down in a wide arc, filling the air with glittering strips of sharpened metal that twirled end over end toward her face and throat. Her horn flared.

Even with the dash in his system, the speed with which he had been flung straight upward was almost too fast for him to process. Down on the floor, everything in a forward radius of Littlepip had been thrown clean across the room or similarly pinned against a ceiling that was now little more than a grate of glowing embers and dancing flame. A searing wave of heat and pain prickled along his back as his nerves caught up with the recent turn of events. He tried to squirm away, but she held him in place, peering up at him down the barrel of her revolver.

A long, loud creak filled the air all around them. Littlepip lowered her gun, her gaze distant, as though she were in awe. Tap felt himself falling, casting an upward glance to see what was so important.

The whole ceiling was coming down in uneven slabs, breaking into burning planks and beams mid fall. Everything that had been on the second floor came down with it; tables, dressers, beds, and bodies, all of it striking the floor with such force that it gave out under the weight. He lost sight of Littlepip as they plummeted into the basement. It was a rough landing. Shocks of pain shot through his legs on impact, but none of the debris had pinned him in the collapse.

Almost immediately, the heat and smoke became near unbearable. Before, he had been able to ignore the smoke for the most part. The majority of the fire had been raging on the floor above, and he had been moving so fast that even after part of the ceiling came down, the room hadn’t yet filled with smoke. Now, he was in the thick of it, his eyes and lungs burning as he tried to move through the wreckage.

Somewhere nearby, a series of tiny coughs reached his ears. He un-holstered the comedies and changed magazines mid stride, then stopped dead in his tracks. Just before going to investigate, he had told Glade Skimmer to wait in the basement. Tap bristled, his voice strained and distorted as he called out for her, falling into a coughing fit as he tried to refill his lungs. A heap of ember studded beams shifted in response. He tumbled out of the way, smouldering stakes sizzling past him and embedding in a bookshelf. The ballistic crack of a revolver followed, and a pock mark appeared in the cement just a few hairs from his forehead. He twisted onto his back, firing wildly into the smoke. Another round zipped by, strafing the side of his neck before embedding in a chunk of the first floor.

Everything began to speed up as he focused on his own body, curling himself toward his head and releasing. The magical shove made his muscles ache as he rolled through the air, hinds over head, still firing at a target he couldn’t even see. He became disoriented as his hooves struck a warped segment of wooden floor, his ears ringing, overwhelmed as the world returned to full speed. A distorted pop cut through the air from somewhere in the room, and he crouched behind a jagged, flaming hill of fragmented wood. A single blackened foreleg projected from the pile, but he fought off the urge to pull out the rest of the body for verification. Tap pulled a fresh dash inhaler from his bandoleer and put it to his lips.

“Help,” he heard Skimmer whisper behind him.

Tap whipped around and laid his eyes on an enormous safe that occupied the nearest corner of the room, its door only partially open. Skimmer’s eye shimmered with reflected flame, peering out into the hell beyond her shelter. A large, metal trunk and a heap of burning debris had fallen in front of the door, trapping her.

“I’m gonna get you out of here,” Tap managed between coughs. His eyes swept over the room, then back to Skimmer. “Just hold on.”

The words had barely left his throat when he felt himself lifted from the floor. Tap struggled to focus, dragging a metal drum and the dash inhaler with him. A hollow, metallic clang preceded what he counted as the fourth report of Littlepip’s revolver, knocking the barrel right out of his levitation field. He took a long hit, riding the amphetamine rush as everything slowed to a comfortable crawl. Littlepip was just barely visible through the smoke, the glow of her horn like a beacon. She was trying to choke him, but it was too late for that. He focused on the glowing wooden shards littering the floor between them, gritting his teeth as he punched them all into the air at once. He spotted a silenced rifle with a zebra pattern tumbling in the midst of it all.

Littlepip’s fifth shot went wide, plowing through the shrapnel and striking the concrete wall somewhere behind him. To his surprise, she held the debris there, slowly pushing them toward him like a wall of glowing spikes. Tap tensed as he grabbed the trunk that had fallen in front of the safe, his light dampening spell wearing off in the process. His horn flared, swirling light illuminating the smoke around his head as he lifted the trunk above himself. He used it as an anchor, turning himself over, and then, once his hooves were firmly planted on its underside, he let it drop. The weight of the trunk ripped him free of her telekinetic hold. He kicked the instant he felt himself slip her grasp, pushing himself away from the trunk and twisting to land on his hooves.

Wooden shards sparked and crackled as they struck the wall that had been behind him moments ago. He could hear Littlepip’s hooves pounding closer, the sound of her breath made fitful by the thick smoke. When she emerged, squinting down the barrel of her revolver, he was ready.

A burst of light erupted from his horn, slamming Littlepip in the side of the head with raw telekinetic force. She staggered sideways, swinging her revolver, firing, and missing. The tiny unicorn stumbled and collapsed.

Double Tap reared up and pounced like a hellhound, hundreds of knives just a blink of an eye from slicing into his prey. Littlepip made no effort to grab him with her telekinesis, not even so much as flinching as he reached the peak of his arc, angling his forehooves down for her throat. Her lips began to move, one eye squeezed shut, her revolver still levitating in front of her. He realized what she was saying before she had finished saying it.

“Gotcha.”

Six shots. He told himself. I heard six shots. 

The hammer fell, and a jet of flame spilled from the barrel, escorting a single point-forty-four slug down the rifled corridor.

I must have miscounted.

And then his mind went blank.

A feeling like someone had pushed an entire brahmin through his breast became the only thing he could focus on. He hit the ground in a heap, sprawling out next to Littlepip. His knives slid limply out of his sleeves as he struggled to take a breath. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear Glade Skimmer screaming. He rolled his head toward the safe as the young mare forced the door open, galloping toward him and ignoring Littlepip altogether. He tried to tell her to run, to hide, but the words just wouldn’t come. She fell at his side, barely feeling her hooves on his breast, the sound of her sobbing faintly audible.

Behind Skimmer, Littlepip reared her head, looking over the young mare with that same predatory glare she had trained on him. Skimmer bared her teeth, narrowed her eyes, and shifted her weight to buck. Her hooves never connected, and she was levitated straight off the ground. Her zipper descended, tooth by tooth, as Skimmer squirmed and screamed in protest. Buttons popped off their sinew threads as Littlepip ripped the radigator leather from Skimmer’s body. Littlepip’s question was lost to his ears, but he could see Skimmer’s lips moving.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, over and over again.

Tap noticed the zebra-patterned rifle levitating next to Littlepip, pointed at Glade Skimmer. Skimmer closed her eyes, screaming and thrashing. There was no emotion on Littlepip’s face as she pulled the trigger.

Not like this.

Skimmer dropped to the floor beside him, still thrashing, even as fire licked its way out of the bullet holes in her back. She looked Tap in the eyes and went very still, letting her head drop to the concrete. Flames rolled along her foreleg as she lifted a hoof to the side of his face. His pistol trembled as he struggled to wrap it in his levitation field.

Darkness swallowed him.

|[     ]|[     ]|[     ]|

Littlepip was gone when he opened his eyes.

His eyes were all he could move, the rest of his body reduced to dead weight. Panic seized him as his gaze swept over his surroundings. The remains of Skimmer’s home continued to burn above and around him, but the blaze no longer made a sound. Skimmer had gone completely still, little more than charred meat and bone. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he could still see her corpse on the insides of his eyelids.

With a soft click, a set of hooves stepped into view, just behind Glade Skimmer’s fire blackened form. There was a mare attached to them. A few droplets of blood rolled away from the bullet hole in her forehead, staining the white of her coat. Several locks of strawberry blonde hair fell across her face. Something about her seemed so familiar.

And then she smiled down at him as he met her gaze.

“Do you believe in fate?”

His eyes rolled toward Glade Skimmer as she began to twitch, slowly twisting onto her belly, putting her hooves under her body. She lifted herself upright, standing beside Lady Luck. Her charred flesh flaked off as though she were a reptile shedding its skin. Fully restored, she began to smile as well, her eyes so tranquil.

“No, of course you don’t. You and I both know that fate is an illusion constructed by those who fear uncertainty.”

Every inch of him was numb, but he found himself able to draw breath, able to move freely. He lifted himself off the ground, regarding the mares across from him.

“The existence of possibility, the potential for events to unfold differently than planned...” Lady Luck looked past him, narrowing her eyes. “It is a fear of these that lead the foolish to cling to a belief that they are destined, that their lives flow along a predetermined path, and that surely, some force is guiding them.”

Skimmer giggled quietly, biting her lower lip and containing her laughter as Lady Luck turned toward her. Lady Luck’s lips curled into a sharp grin.

“Yes, it is rather amusing, in a tragic sort of sense." She turned her attention back toward Tap, smirking. “Of course... you and I both know that they are wrong. There is chance, and only chance. Nothing is set in stone, and everything is the result of sheer luck.”

She glanced past him again, her grin fading as she lifted her head. “Walk with us, won’t you?”

“Am I dead?” he whispered.

Her grin returned. “The outcome has yet to be determined, but fortunately for you, the odds are in your favor.”

A shiver ran through him. “And Skimmer?”

The mare in question averted her gaze. Lady Luck cocked a brow and murmured, “Let us not allow ourselves to be distracted by such affairs as life and death. There are far more important matters to discuss.”

“Fuck. You. Where were you when I needed you? When we needed you?” He stomped toward her, gritting his teeth. “You let this happen!”

Lady Luck pursed her lips, still wearing her wicked grin. “And if I recall, it was you who misjudged the variables and made an ill fated wager. You bet your life and her life when you made your decision. As such, the consequences are yours, and yours alone.

“But I can say for certain that, should you remain in this place, you forfeit all chance of survival.” She looked to Skimmer, and the pair of them began a slow trot through the curling inferno that the basement had become. “The choice is yours.”

Tap stayed glued to the spot. He looked from Skimmer to the ashen outline still by his side. She glanced back at him, but kept walking. Another shiver ran down his spine, and he felt heavy, his ears splaying with the weight.

He nearly choked as he asked, “What will happen to her?”

“You need not worry about her,” Lady Luck mused without so much as looking back at him. “She will be well cared for. But, as I said before, this is neither the time nor the place.”

At a glance, Tap could see a smear of blood from where he had fallen. He turned away from the spot and watched as they moved straight through the fires, unhindered. Cautiously, he followed in their wake. The fire felt cold against his flesh, rolling in slow waves as he stepped across a sea that glowed orange. They ascended the stairs and paused in the kitchen. Skimmer stepped back as Lady Luck approached the rear wall. She seemed to flicker for an instant, and the wall splintered outward into the night.

The three of them passed through the freshly made exit, but the moment Tap set hoof outside, he felt a surge of white hot pain rush through him. He squeezed his eyes shut, grinding his teeth as every nerve cried out in anguish. Just as quickly as the sensation hit him, it faded away.

|[     ]|[     ]|[     ]|

When he opened his eyes, he was staring out over the rooftops of a pristine cityscape. The sky was open, with only a few puffy clouds rolling across an endless stretch of blue. A strong breeze pulled at his mane as he searched his surroundings for familiar landmarks, but he could find none. The feeling of numbness remained in him, but beneath that, he felt something else; a feeling like something had gone wrong within.

“So glad you could join us,” Lady Luck whispered at his right side.

He jolted, whipping his head toward her. “Why are you helping me? What do you want from me?”

“So many questions, and yet, you already know the answers. You’ve asked them all before, but I know that you’ve simply forgotten.” She narrowed her eyes and smiled, staring off into the horizon. “Truthfully, there isn’t a thing you could offer me that I would willingly accept. Any amount you might place on the table pales before what is already in my possession. But...” Her smile faded just slightly. “I should say that my presence is due to a sense of obligation. One that I fear may never be completely fulfilled.”

“Obligation?” He cautiously leaned closer.

“If I were to fully explain myself, it would be a book in its own right, I’m afraid. A chapter, at the very least. We have time for neither of those at this particular juncture.”

Tap lifted his head, perplexed. “I don’t understand.”

A sharp peal of laughter rolled up from her throat. “Who and what I am are not important. What is important is where you go from here.”

Tap looked down at his hooves, but found himself staring over the edge of a building. Far below, ponies and carts moved along the street like insects. He lifted his gaze again, looking to his left. Glade Skimmer offered a sad, timid smile. His lips tensed.

“From here? Why does that matter? I wanted—” Tap closed his eyes and exhaled bitterly. “No, I actually had the chance to make a difference for once, but I still couldn’t save her... I just wanted to kill Littlepip so badly that I jumped the gun, and I fucked us both because of that. I mean, yeah, I wanted revenge... for Steel Trap, for Annette, for their children and for all of Arbu...” He paused, running his tongue over his teeth. “What Littlepip said, about them being cannibals. Was she telling the truth?”

Lady Luck pursed her lips. “Did she strike you as the sort to wipe out settlements on a whim?”

“No... she was a professional, like me. Always one step ahead. But does that make her right?” He looked the the horizon, tapping a forehoof. “I’ve never liked the concept of slavery, but I didn’t go and clean out Old Appleoosa over my beliefs.”

“That would make her an extremist,” she nodded slowly, “would it not?”

“Yeah... and I never really felt like was my place to change anything.” He met Lady Luck’s gaze, furrowing his brow. “Fuck Littlepip. When I realized she was the one raising hell, that just proved that the hero thing was a load of shit. She had no right to do this. Even if they killed and ate someone here and there, they were still my friends, and they were good ponies. Death is as much a part of the wasteland as life.”

“But she is changing the wasteland, just as Red Eye changed it before her. What part will you play in a world shaped by her ideals?”

“I’m an assassin.” Tap spent a moment thinking about the implications of his statement. “I don’t think I’ll have a place if she keeps going the way she’s going. Should I give up, then? Should I find a new line of work if I’m eventually going to be judged for my actions by some holier-than-thou psychopath?”

After what felt like an eternity of silence, she raised her voice in response. “Your decisions do carry more weight than you’ve been willing to admit in the past. It would be wise to try and consider the long term effects of your influence. However, one such as yourself should avoid falling by the wayside. I strongly suggest that you do not squander your talents.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are an agent of potential.” She reared up, spreading her forelegs toward the horizon. “And you are every bit as much of a catalyst as Littlepip! You simply haven’t found anything to stand for just yet.”

Lowering his head, he said, “You’re saying I should join a cause?”

She dropped back to all fours, giving him a sideways glance. “It would be in very poor taste to allow yourself to become an instrument of someone else’s agenda.”

“Should I...” Tap gritted his teeth as his thoughts came up blank. “Should I try playing the lone hero or something?”

She cackled again, closing her eyes as her whole body trembled with laughter. “Goodness no! You and I both know that it wouldn’t suit you to restrict yourself along a moral guideline. Always act in your own best interest.”

Tap cocked an ear, looking around with uncertainty. “I don’t get it.”

“And at this moment, I would hardly expect you to.” She smiled, and for the first time, he found it comforting. “There is still plenty of time for you to decide on your next move.”

A long stretch of silence came between them. Tap’s eyes swept over the rooftops laid out before him, searching for meaning in what Lady Luck had told him. A rattling screech drew his attention. He looked down the street, watching as a train rolled by on an elevated track.

“Where are we?”

No sooner than the question had been asked, he laid his eyes on Tenpony Tower. Only, it wasn’t Tenpony as he knew it; the building looked clean and new. It lacked the patch jobs and none of the windows were boarded up.

A certain wildness came over her, her eyes widening. “At the end of the world,” she whispered, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

There was a blinding flash on the other end of the city. Tap squinted into the glare, taking in the contour of an enormous fireball that rolled up into the sky. In an instant, buildings had been vaporized. Bodies, vehicles, and chunks of buildings were displaced by the blastwave, filling the air with debris. He could feel the heat peeling away at his skin, pulling him apart. His flesh sizzled and his eyes blistered, but he couldn’t look away. Under the roar of the explosion, beneath the tearing winds, he could hear the screams in every direction.

And then he heard the laughter. Lady Luck’s face fell away in molten hunks, revealing more and more of her jaw, her fangs glowing in the arcane fire. Her laughter was shrill and fitful as her eyes boiled in their sockets, drinking in the death and chaos that stretched out before them. She turned her head to face him, scraps of meat hanging from her skull, but her grin remained as vicious as ever. 

“Perhaps you’ll be joining us after all,” she gurgled. A green fire danced in the empty, blackened pits of her eye sockets.

“Run,” he heard Skimmer whisper.

All at once, Double Tap had a horrible revelation. Lady Luck nodded slowly, confirming his fears.

His heart had stopped.

Lady Luck leaned in closer, her cackle echoing out into infinity. “The more, the merrier.”

|[     ]|[     ]|[     ]|

Chapter 7 - Bereavement

~~~|*/\*|~~~

For a while, I had this dream where I would see this town from the top of a hill; full of ponies shopping and talking and going about their lives. Real peaceful, you know?

And then, when I start walking toward the town, it just kind of empties out. By the time I actually get there, it’s a ghost town. All the buildings are empty, like there was no one living there to begin with.

Why do you think you would have a dream like that?

I was alone for a long time, and it’s not something I want to go back to ever again.

Well, I’m not planning on going anywhere without you, if that makes you feel any better.

Oh, don’t give me that look. It was a joke.

Yeah, I know. I guess I don’t think it’s that funny since it seems like every time there’s something good in my life, it gets taken away from me. I’m tired of starting over.

I’m tired of saying goodbye.

We all are… But maybe, some day, we won’t have to say goodbye until we’re good and ready to do so.

Yeah, that would be nice.

~~~|*/\*|~~~

Chapter Seven – Bereavement

|[     ]|[     ]|[     ]|

Time stopped as Double Tap stood transfixed, unable to break Lady Luck’s gaze. A shrill beeping cut through the silence like a hacksaw, washing out the world around him as it grew in intensity. Lady Luck cocked her head, but maintained her ghastly smile.

“Just as well,” she whispered. “We’ll meet again many a time before your luck truly runs out, I think.”

Lady Luck turned away as Skimmer held out a hoof to him. And then they were gone, everything vanishing under a searing white light.

Tap gasped, convulsed, and went limp, his head bouncing against something soft. The buzz in his ears slowly began to fade. He peeled back his eyelids, his vision focusing on a looming silhouette. Gradually, the silhouette resolved into Paharita. She looked like she had been splashed with paint. He realized a moment later that she was smeared with blood, holding something close to his face between her dripping talons; a crumpled wad of metal.

A spent bullet.

Bobbing and grinning, she exclaimed, “I’m keeping this!”

“This hell is even worse,” he groaned. “Send me back.”

The words left him with the weight of a lead brick. Everything began to blur together, bringing a nauseating dizziness with it. Paharita said something, but it was too muffled for him to understand. His eyelids drooped, and darkness followed.

Glade… Skimmer...

|[  7 ]|[o8- ]|[(  ) ]|

“How long have I been like this?” Tap murmured, taking a sip from a water bottle as he waited for Rita to return to his side.

Beneath the mesh of bandages covering the majority of his body, his skin couldn’t decide if it was itchy or in agony. The bed under him felt foreign. More comfortable, maybe, but smaller than the mattress he was used to, and much higher off the ground. He was fairly certain that it had wheels, which meant Rita had likely pulled it out of the ruins of a hospital. The griffon fluttered her wings and landed neatly on a bar stool next to the bed.

“And where is Glade Skimmer?” He rolled his head toward her, made even more uncomfortable by a sloshing feeling in his skull. “What happened to Arbu?”

Before saying anything, Rita peered up at the ceiling and did a little spin on her bar stool. “You’ve been in and out for a couple days. Had to keep you medicated and stuff, but you’re healing pretty nicely.” She came to a stop and pointed, grinning. “Trust me, after all the digging around I had to do, you’ll be thanking me for that. You’re still gonna be pretty sore once the good stuff wears off, but nowhere near as sore as you would have been a day ago.

“Also, you might have a teeeeensy little addiction to morphine now,” she said as her extended talon drooped against her thumb, “but that’s no biggie if you ask me.”

She hadn’t answered his other questions, but the thought of Rita performing any kind of surgery on him made him bristle.

“What do you fucking mean digging around?” Tap made an effort to sit up, thwarted by a sharp pain in his chest. With a grunt, he let his head hit the pillow. “Rita, I told you I didn’t want you doing any weird surgical shit to me.”

“You said you'd only let me play doctor over your dead body, if I’m not mistaken, which I’m not!” Tap clenched his jaw as he met her excited gaze. She didn’t have to say it, but he knew she was going to anyway. “And you were pre-tty dead, mister!” Rita crossed her forearms and turned her head to the side with a huff. “You’re welcome for saving your life and all.”

Tap scowled and looked away, sighing softly through his nose. “Yeah, okay, fine.”

“That wasn’t a thaaaaank yoooou,” she sang as she gave him a sideways glance.

“Fucking thank you!” Tap threw his forelegs into the air, weakly flailing them about. “Now what did you do to me you fucking quack?!”

“Weeeeell...” Rita pulled up her pipbuck, tapping for a few moments. She nodded and met his bitter glare. “Your adrenaline glands were pretty much burnt out, and so was your liver, but those are unrelated and I was probably going to have to get you new ones at some point anyway!

“The biggest thing was you coming down with a case of bullet to the chest. See, Littlepip didn’t get you square in the heart, but she did a lot of damage.” She glanced down at her pipbuck, tapping the screen, “She put a great big hole through your lung, too, but that was actually one of the easier things to fix!”

Grinning, she locked eyes with him again. “Anyway, I was able to fix most of the damage with healing potions, but your ticker had to get swapped out.” Double Tap’s eyes shot to their widest, but Rita continued. “You’re lucky that your popsicle buddy from Tenpony was a match, and that our freezer in the basement wasn’t too rough on his insides, cause artificial hearts—”

“Woah woah!” Tap put both hooves on his chest, staring down at the slightly pink-stained bandages covering it. “You did a heart transplant on me? Are you fucking kidding?!”

“Well, no! I had a little help too!” She glanced back and made a beckoning gesture with her claw. “Say hello to our new friend, Surgeon General Gutsy! And yeah, I know she’s technically a Handy, but I’m gonna call her Miss Gutsy since she plays with your guts!”

It was a hovering sort of robot. The kind with lots of long, spindly limbs, painted bright yellow and decorated with butterflies in groups of three. Instead of blowtorches and buzzsaws, it was equipped with scalpels, needles, and what appeared to be defibrillator pads. Tap had seen Handy models that had been repurposed for surgery, but as far as he knew, they were fairly hard to come by, and actively sought after by the Steel Rangers.

Impulsively, his next question was, “Where the hell did you find that?” A mental kick followed as he realized what was to come.

“I’m glad you asked!” Rita spun all the way around, wings and forearms spread wide and waving. “Gather round, all you clankers! It’s story time!”

One by one, the robots shuffled and rolled closer, forming a half circle around the side of the bed, with Rita in the center. Grinning madly, she spun back toward Tap, scooting her stool closer with a series of obnoxious screeches. Looming over him now, she took a deep breath, and reached over him.

“I had almost reached the Bucklyn outpost when I heard the gunshots. I knew that Littlepip had finally figured out Arbu’s deepest, darkest, tastiest secret, and—”

“You knew they were cannibals?” He gawked at her in not-quite disbelief. “Skimmer and her family, too?”

“Uh, yeah? A-doy! Don’t you think I know what pony tastes like? I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner!” She tapped her beak, grinning down at him. “I’m surprised you ponies don’t know what you ponies taste like, while we’re on the subject.”

Tap growled and started to raise his voice, but she put a talon to his lips and shushed him.

“Anyway, hush! I’m talking! So Littlepip figured out they were all cannibals, and started doing what she does, being the grim reaper that she is. As much as I wanted to watch you and her duke it out, I didn’t want to risk getting blown away while she was in super murder mode, so I decided to just let you handle it. But hey, look how that turned out.” She reached out to jab him in the shoulder with an extended talon. “All you had to do was kill Littlepip. Nice job, chief.”

“FUCK. YOU.”

Tap had lunged for her, ignoring the searing pain that rolled through his body, but he stopped just short of striking her. Every single robot in the room had pointed their weapons at Tap in one form or another, and they kept it that way until he let himself fall back against the bed. He closed his eyes and swallowed, trembling with rage.

Rita went back to clicking her beak as though nothing had happened. “Anyway, so I get there, and it’s corpse city. Big, tasty smelling funeral pyre, blood everywhere, busted up security hardware scattered around… I didn’t think they left any of the Steel Rangers or their bots alive, but I popped a stealth buck just to be safe. Can’t be too careful when looting, you know! So there I am, poking around, looking for their safe, and I come across their medical bay. I figured you were probably gonna get a little scuffed up fighting Littlepip and her friends, so I started to stock up, and hey, what do you know?”

A quick glance up at her revealed that she was staring at him expectantly, claws on her waist. He said nothing and looked away, trying to shut her out and go back to sleep.

“They’ve got a medical robot in a charging bay! What a find! I spent a few moments tinkering, powered her up, and had her play pack mule while I went through their stock. After I had pretty much grabbed everything I thought was valuable, I realized that the shooting had stopped. My first thought was that you had taken care of business, so I figured I’d patch you up and you could help me look for our payment.”

Grunting, Tap shifted his weight and rocked to one side, facing his entire body away from Rita. “But I didn’t kill Littlepip.”

“Yeah, no kidding. We didn’t make any money on this little cluster-cluck either, because I never found the safe. When I caught up with you, keeping you alive kind of took precedence, and when I checked the place out again the other day, it had already been cleaned out.” She sighed quietly, and despite himself, he imagined her rolling her eyes. “Totally lame, right?”

Tap rolled onto his back again, staring up at her. “What do you mean you caught up with me?”

“After that little episode in Splendid Valley, I sewed a tracking beacon into your bandoleer since you never take the stupid thing off.” She lifted her pipbuck and tapped the screen a few times. “Your blip popped up outside of Arbu, on the shore, and since Arbu was smoking like a chimney by then, that made plenty of sense to me. When I swooped in to rendezvous, though…”

Rita grinded her beak, brow furrowing. “Yeah, you’re honestly really, really lucky you have someone like me looking out for you, cause you were all kinds of messed up. You were in the water, but I could see that you had been burned pretty bad around your hooves and stuff, and uh…”

“Skimmer?” he asked, brows shooting up.

“No! No.” Rita shook her head, took a deep breath, and straightened up. “Your cutie mark. It got kinda… burned. It’s probably going to scar up pretty badly, so—”

Double Tap gnashed his teeth, thrashing against the bed. “I don’t give a flying mother-fuck about my cutie mark, Paharita! Tell me what happened to Skimmer!”

“Well!” The griffon crossed her forelegs and looked away with a huff. “Excuuuuse me for trying to be sensitive about your super important butt-sign! I thought that sort of thing was what you ponies based your whole lives around!”

“I do not give one single shit about that, or any of this other fucking garbage.” He narrowed his eyes, growling and gritting his teeth. “Now tell me what happened to Glade Skimmer. Was she there with me? Is she okay?”

Smiling, Rita asked, “You’re joking, right?”

“No I’m not fucking joking!” Tap kicked his hind legs in frustration, glaring up at her. “Where is she?!”

Paharita stared at him for a long moment, her smile somewhat diminished. Her sudden silence made his hair stand on end. “Tap,” she said plainly, “she’s dead.”

In that instant, Tap began to suffocate, as though every breath of air had left the room. The helplessness he felt was suddenly amplified, its weight crushing down on his chest, and for a minute, he could do nothing but stare. No matter how hard he searched her expression, no matter how desperately he wanted it to be another one of Paharita’s sick jokes, the words “just kidding” never left her beak.

Tap choked, drawing in a stale, shallow breath. “No she’s not, Rita,” he calmly corrected her, shaking his head. “I don’t know where you got a half baked idea like that, but Skimmer isn’t dead. She got up, and I followed her out.” Satisfied with his explanation, he nodded.

“Yeah, no,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation. His entire body tensed. “Littlepip killed just about everyone in Arbu. I think you’re one of the few ponies who made it out in one piece,” she held up her pipbuck, pointing to the speaker, “cause DJ Ponethree—”

“Don’t fucking say that!” he spat, shaking. His vision began to blur as a feeling of dizziness gripped him. He struggled to replace the helplessness with anger. “She’s not dead! She can’t be dead!”

Rita leaned away from the bed, then stepped away from it entirely. “Ooookay, someone’s getting a little cranky. Let me go get the morphine.”

Tap struggled to sit up, but his body simply refused to follow orders. He felt a needle pierce his skin, painkillers washing through him, weighing him down. A chemical haze seeped into his mind. Even as consciousness slipped away, he railed against what Paharita had told him, as though his defiance kept Skimmer alive.

|[  7 ]|[o8- ]|[ /_\ ]|

Double Tap reached across his chest, took a deep breath, and peeled back the layer of bandages spread across his torso. A fresh, whitish-pink scar stretched right down the center, stopping just below his ribs. Its path was horizontally intersected by a few equally fresh, but much smaller scars where the stitches had been holding him together. The bottle cap-sized patch of uneven flesh just to the left of his heart signified another addition to his already obscene collection of bullet wounds.

The bandages on his legs were next in line. Scarring from burns was minimal on his left side, but much more obvious on his right, centered mostly near his backside. His genitals had survived the experience without as much as a scratch, for which he was greatly relieved. The dice on his right flank, however, had a big, nasty-looking, furless splotch that marred at least half of the image. Unphased, he flexed each of his legs in turn, then rolled over the side of the bed.

The floor rushed to greet him. Somewhere nearby, he heard Paharita snickering. He ignored her and shakily lifted himself onto all fours. A few deep breaths later, he had his bearings, and stopped leaning against the bed.

“Alright, that’s good.” She fluttered over to him, grinning as he met her gaze. “Miss Gutsy wants to give you a full physical or something, but you look fine to me!”

Tap limped past her, head low. “Where’s Littlepip?”

“Huh? I dunno.” He could hear her claws and talons clicking the floor behind him, slowly following. “Canterlot, I think. Why?”

His eyes swept the room, searching for his equipment. “Because I’m gonna go kill the bitch.”

With another burst of fluttering, Rita hopped ahead of him, turning to block his path. “Oh, yeah, okay.” She had her good hind paw planted firmly on his singed bandoleer. “'Cause you did such a great job the last time.”

Horn flaring brightly, he wrenched it out from under her, nearly sending her sprawling. “Shut the fuck up! Where are my guns?!”

Rita ruffled her feathers and steadied herself, jabbing him in the chest with a talon. “You didn’t have your pistols on you when I picked you up, so you probably left them in Arbu. If they were in a fire that nasty, I’m just gonna go ahead and make you a new toy.” She upturned her beak. “But only if you ask me nicely!”

“Whatever,” he grunted, not the least bit discouraged. He turned toward the gun rack and muttered, “I’m taking a stock piece then.”

“Lookie here, mister!” He bristled as Rita put her claws on him. She had enough sense to immediately back off. “I didn’t drag you back here and perform the surgery of the year just so you could stomp off and get killed again!”

Tap snorted and flicked his tail back at her. “I have a score to settle with that little self-righteous shit.”

“Do you even have a plan?”

He didn’t.

Tap clenched his teeth, trying to shut her out as he picked through the available firearms. Nothing caught his eye. A sawed-off, double-barreled twelve gauge and a point forty-five pistol seemed to be the only weapons that really suited him. He levitated them off the rack and slipped them under his bandoleer.

When Tap turned around, Rita was staring, reared up with her forearms crossed. “Uh-huh. And let’s not forget— Where is she?” She spread her forearms, waving them around her head. “Oh yeah, Canterlot! Even if the deal with the Steel Rangers wasn’t kaput, there’s no way I would chase her through there! You’re not going after her!”

Tap sneered, showing his teeth and widening his stance. “You’re gonna stop me?” He lifted a forehoof, then slammed it down and dragged it back, snorting at her. “Well come the fuck on then! Stop me!” Eyes wide, he growled, “I dare you to try!”

Paharita took a few steps back, ruffling her feathers again. “Hey! I saved your flippin’ life! You have no right to be snotty with me!” Once she had a robot between herself and Tap, she added, “I’m not the one who let my cannibal girlfriend get killed!”

The next few moments seemed like a blur to Tap. He could remember screaming and charging, but everything after that was a sharp buzzing sound. There were stars in his eyes as his mind caught up to his body. He was on his back, staring up at the pipes that laced through the ceiling. Rita slowly loomed over him, tilting her head from one side to the other.

Tap made a low, groaning sound. His limbs refused to budge, and his spine felt as though it had fused into one solid piece. He could blink, and his heart and his lungs were definitely working, but everything else seemed to have shut down. The shock quickly wore off, and he narrowed his eyes and gurgled, instead of releasing the string of profanity he had intended.

“Oh thank goodness,” Rita said, looking up and away. “You didn’t kill him.”

The brain-bot rolled up on the other side of his vision, swirls of grey matter flashing pink as it spoke with its hollow sounding voice. “Empress has repeatedly expressed her urge for us to refrain from executing her subjects unless prompted to do so. Accordingly, I stunned this heretic, rather than putting him to death.”

Rita giggled and clapped her claws. “Good work!”

The medical handy floated over to him as well, further crowding his vision with metal. “Shall I administer sedatives, Empress?”

“Yep!” She nodded enthusiastically, patting the medical bot on its rounded body. “Dope him up ‘till he gets this little tantrum out of his system.”

|[  7 ]|[ o’o ]|[BAR]|

“Not even a little hit?”

Tap nudged the green button on the basement door’s control panel. The hatch lifted open with a low hiss. “No.”

“You’re gonna make me empty this inhaler all by myself?” Rita whined after him.

Without even looking back, Tap started his descent, focusing on the dusty floor at the bottom of the stairs. “Yep.”

“Wow. Who is this new boring stallion and what has he done with the Tap I used to know?” Her tone shifted from droning back to whining. “Come oooon, hit this thing with me. I just got an offer for a contract from that Fatty-Fats over in Friendship City and I wanna run it by you.”

Tap said nothing, pushing the red button on the corresponding panel at the bottom of the stairs. The door started to hiss closed.

“What are you, going anti-chem on me?!”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Fuck off, Rita.”

“Okay well—”

Tap whipped around, glaring up at her. “I said fuck off! Please!” Rita seemed genuinely startled, her beak hanging open. He frowned and turned away. “Just leave me the fuck alone, okay?”

“Alright, jeeze-louise… You know what would make you less cranky?” The door above him had already closed. Despite this, he heard her shout, “A nice, big hit of dash!”

But he knew that taking any sort of drug would make it more difficult for Lady Luck to find him. He stepped through the clutter of the basement, looking for a suitable spot to settle down on. A pile of newspapers seemed like the best candidate. A few of them tumbled away and spilled open as he climbed to the newsprint mountain’s peak. His gaze idly wandered over the dimly lit landscape of scrap and salvage. The dull hum of electricity guided him into a state of tranquility, lowering his head until he felt old paper crinkle against his chin. Tap took a deep breath, preparing himself for the encounter to come.

“Come and get it,” he murmured, and slowly closed his eyes.

There was only darkness there to greet him.

No wicked smiles, no cruel laughs, and no tingles down his spine. He was completely alone. An odd pang of disappointment flickered in the back of his mind, but he continued to wait. Impatience gradually settled in the pit his stomach. Eventually, he resolved that if she wouldn’t haunt him while he was awake, she would come for him in his dreams.

Tap did his best to try and fall asleep, but several days of prior rest were making sleep difficult. His makeshift bed of newspapers wasn’t the best place to try and drift off, but going back upstairs was not an option, and he doubted Rita would let him go anywhere by himself. Every so often, he shifted his weight in an attempt to get comfortable, ears swiveling in anticipation once the rustle of paper had died down. Nothing stood out beyond the electrical drone of machinery.

Restless and anxious, he peeked out of one eye. While he had been expecting some sort of sign, seeing nothing out of the ordinary instilled a sense of desperation. He changed tactics.

“Hey,” Tap murmured, focusing on a spot on the far wall between the freezer and the generator. “Hey! I know you can hear me, you bitch!” Paharita mumbled something above him, then laughed. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at the wall as though his anger would make Lady Luck manifest. “I bet you think this is funny, don’t you?”

The freezer’s compressor sputtered to life, and the wall remained devoid of any sinister mares.

“Yeah, ha-ha, I’m actually trying to get your attention.” He lifted his head, glowering. “You had your laugh; jokes over. Come out and fucking talk to me.”

The stillness of the air felt oppressive, and the near-silence nerve-wracking. His gaze darted, expecting to catch her in the corner of his vision, laughing at him. No such apparitions appeared.

“Look, I…” A lump caught in his throat as he struggled to push the words past his lips. “I’m sorry, okay? I know I try to ignore you most of the time because… well, let’s be honest here, you’re a really creepy motherfucker. Right now, though, I need to talk to you.” He hesitated, shifting his weight. “I need your help.”

Upstairs, something heavy thumped to the floor. Rita let out a stream of not-swears. He glanced from the ceiling back to the wall, but again found no sign of Lady Luck’s presence.

“Fine, you don’t want to show your face or whatever, but I know you’re listening to me.” Tap lifted his head slightly as he took a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes. “I want you to let Glade Skimmer go. She doesn’t belong to you.”

Tap’s mind buzzed as he tried to imagine how Lady Luck would respond. His ears swiveled, anticipating denial, but hearing nothing besides white noise. He opened his eyes, only to be disappointed once more. Doubt seeped into his mind.

What if Rita is right? he mused. Maybe Lady Luck isn’t real. Experience reminded him otherwise, and he shook off the apprehension.

Believing he needed a better argument, Tap added, “You’ve kept me from death before. I know you can do the same for her.”

He remained silent for a while, waiting, hoping, and receiving nothing in response. Tap’s heart sank. He considered a different a different approach.

“Please, I…” He choked and swallowed, ears splaying. “I know that I fucked up, but she doesn’t deserve this. She hasn’t done anything worse than I have. Shit, she’s a clean slate compared to me.”

A distant rumble shook the building, knocking loose dust that cascaded to the floor like water from a faucet. Again, he heard Rita above him, chattering excitedly with her robots. The rattle of the front door sounded a few minutes later, and then the sound of her voice faded into the distance, punctuated by the door rolling closed behind her. He returned his focus to the wall, discouraged that it remained blank.  

“If you do this for me, I won’t block you out anymore. I promise. Okay?”

An intensifying pounding inside his skull struck him with tension, adding to his frustration. He tried to wince away his headache, determined to continue his attempts at conjuring the creature he despised.

“Please,” he whimpered, one eye squeezed shut. “Fucking say something!”

Every movement he made caused the newspaper under him to crinkle, and the sound was becoming more irritating than he could bear. He faltered on his first attempt to stand, but once he had lifted himself back to his hooves, he began to pace the room, hoping to find Lady Luck hiding somewhere in the clutter.

A single thought stood out in his anxious, aching mind. Maybe I need to make a better offer…

“What if I trade places with her, then?” he asked as he peered into a half opened cardboard box.

Tap lifted his head and held his breath as he waited for her to take the bait. When he couldn’t wait any longer, he screamed, “You can make me your bitch and do whatever you want with me whenever you want! I won’t even fight you!”

A sigh hissed through his gritted teeth. “Think about it, at least! It sounds like a pretty fair trade to me!” He kicked over a mannequin, its wide brimmed hat floating down beside it. “You have such a hard-on for me, so why can’t you just take me instead?!”

He didn’t realize he had started running until he tripped over a stack of singed magazines. “Please!” he screamed from the floor, stumbling as he got back to his hooves. “I’ll do anything you want, just let her go! That’s all I’m asking!”

His voice went hoarse, coughing as he inhaled, and his head felt as though it would split open, but he refused to give up. “Come on! Give me something! Anything!” His hooves ached as he pounded the concrete under them. “You can’t do this to me!”

Regret flooded his thoughts. Every time he had tried to ignore Lady Luck, every insult he had carelessly thrown her way, and every instance of denial that she had assisted him in a time of need; it all came into sharp clarity.

“Stop fucking ignoring me! This isn’t funny!” He was powerless to halt the playback in his mind. The blame fell on him with crushing guilt. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m fucking sorry! Maybe I’m not worth your sympathy, but for fuck’s sake, don’t—”

And then, all he could think of was Glade Skimmer. His chest ached, as though his heart would just drop out. “You can’t take this out on her! She hasn’t done anything to you!” He shook his head so hard he thought his neck would snap. “It isn’t right! It isn’t fair!”

The last of his resolve disintegrated. He fell to the floor, feebly thumping the concrete. “Fucking hell…” He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in his hooves. “It’s all my fault, Skimmer. All mine.”

It was clear to him now that he was truly alone. The isolation he normally craved now left him feeling hollow. All he could do was replay his memories and wish to turn back the hands of time.

With a slow exhale, the will to live slipped away like sand in an hourglass.

|[o8- ]|[  7 ]|[(  ) ]|

Déjà Vu was the last thing Double Tap wanted to experience, but once again, he found himself on a salvaged hospital bed with Paharita bumbling around just within his peripheral vision. The last time he had been in this situation, he felt numb and tired. This time, he felt like he could run to Old Appleoosa and back. He could see the world around him with razor sharp clarity, and the headache he had endured was no longer with him. More concerning was that he had no memory of being brought upstairs.

At the very least, he figured the absence of fatigue could be attributed to one of the new additions to this scenario. A pole with a hanging medical bag stood beside the bed, with a long tube running from its bottom to the back of his right fetlock. All the symptoms of a light Dash high were present, which meant that he was being given drugs intravenously. Were he still interested in contacting Lady Luck, this would have made him furious. Now, he just felt indifferent.

There seemed to be straps holding him to the bed as well. That didn’t really concern him, since he wasn’t interested in moving.

“Oh, the patient is awake,” came a tinny voice from nearby. The medical handy hovered into view. “These are very good readings. I think you’ve made a full recovery.”

Paharita was at the bedside in a heartbeat. For reasons that Tap didn’t care to understand, she had donned a paper hat with three butterflies on it.

“Lemmie see!” She met Tap’s gaze, grinning widely around her beak. “I really like that you’re letting me play nurse again and all, but you’ve gotta cool it a little. We kinda have things to do and having you sulking around and going into shock isn’t gonna get us paid, so!”

She reached to the side of the bed, and with a little click, the straps undid themselves and slid away from his body.

Tap’s expression remained blank. Her words, and his reacquired freedom, bored him. “Shock?” he droned on full autopilot.

“Uh, yeah! I was gone for like, three days, Tap!” She waved her claws around, brows arched. “I didn’t think I’d have to make sure you ate and drank while I was gone but I guess I was wrong! That’s not even what almost killed you, anyway.” She leaned closer to him, reaching into her vest and producing a dash inhaler. “Don’t you know what withdrawal is?”

Tap stayed silent, already sick of hearing Paharita click her beak. He closed his eyes and tried to shut her out. The dash in his system made this impossible.

“It’s what happens when you don’t drink alcohol or take dash, dummy! Anyway, like Miss Gutsy said, your vitals are pretty good, and you’re all healed up, so let’s get going.” He felt her talons on his skin, pulling the IV out of his fetlock. “We’ve got caps to make!”

“You should have left me at Arbu,” Tap murmured.

Rita huffed, but he remained as still as he could, breathing through his nose. His sense of smell was also sharpened by the dash. Even though he hadn’t showered since his stay in Fetlock, Paharita still smelled far worse than he did.

“Come ooooon!” He felt her claws on his shoulders, shaking him. “Friendship City got gutted by the Enclave a few hours ago! Oh! I forgot to mention, all those Enclave pegasi finally came down after about two hundred years and now Equestria is being occupied, so, you know, travel at night.”

Tap hadn’t asked, nor did he care.

“Anyway,” Rita continued, “if we don’t go there now, all the good loot is gonna get looted before I can even lay a talon on it! Now are you gonna be a good little colt or not, cause I’ll strap you right back in, mister!”

There was nothing for him to say. She let him flop back against the mattress, but she persisted. “Tap! I can’t go without you!”

With a growl, her greasy chest plumage mashed against his face as she leaned across him to bite his ear. The pain barely registered, even as she bit down harder, even as he felt her break the skin. Her talons dug into his foreleg, raking through his hide, but he refused to move. A long, exasperated sigh escaped her as she let go, warm blood flowing in her wake.

“Y-you’re being a real jerk, you know that?!” She jabbed him in the chest. “I just wanna go out and have a good time, and you’re being a total bummer!”

After another short span of silence, he heard another click, and felt the straps lash across his body even tighter than they had been before. Her feathers rustled against the air, and the clack of her claws touching down reached his ears from the other side of the room.

“Fine! You wanna mope around, you do that! But if you keep it up, I’m… I’m gonna hire a new partner, you hear me?!”

Rita’s threat was punctuated with the squeal of a guitar, and then the screech of a vocalist. He could hear her furiously hammering away at something under the blaring music. Without the IV in his arm, the effects of the watered down dash began to fade. Slowly, he was able to tune out the rest of the world.

Memories of Glade Skimmer flowed freely through Tap’s mind, bringing him more distress than comfort. He lingered on the moment of her death, and considered putting a grenade in his mouth. Just as he began to imagine himself biting down and pulling the pin, something tingled in his chest, telling him that he was being watched.

From beside him, a familiar voice whispered, “Hey…”

Tap opened his eyes. He glanced to the side of the bed, and felt his heart skip a beat.

Glade Skimmer giggled at him, smiling, her lime-green eyes as radiant as ever. She looked to be completely unharmed, though she seemed a bit naked without her radigator suit. A necklace of pointy teeth still hung from her neck; a cherished trophy from her first radigator hunt, as he fondly remembered. There were no words he could muster, fearing that any spoken syllable would make her vanish like a wisp of smoke. She stood there, smiling, breathing, and slowly tilting her head as he did nothing but stare and blink.

The curls of her mane bobbed as she finally murmured, “Well hello to you too.”

The urge to remain stationary left him in that instant. Tap struggled against his restraints, but Skimmer just shook her head, her smile vanishing.

“I know you really wanna hug me right now, but you can’t.”

He felt a needle skewer his heart. Ears splaying, he asked, “Why the hell not?!”

“Cause you’re all tied down, jackass.” She shook her head and chuckled, her smile slowly returning. “And I know that if you hug me now, you’re not gonna want to let go, and I’m gonna have to pry myself away. I don’t wanna do that to you. You’ve had a rough week as it is.”

“I…” He choked on his words, trying to wrap his head around this turn of events. “I don’t understand. Lady Luck, and— What happened to you? Shit, I thought—”

Skimmer smiled and shook her head again. “Shhhh… Don’t freak out on me, okay? That would make this a lousy visit.”

Tap nodded slowly, shuddering as he exhaled. “I’m uh… just a little emotional, I guess. What the hell, though? Where have you been? Rita told me you were dead!”

“Hah! That fuckin’ liar!” Skimmer let out a low, laughing sigh. “Listen, I’m not dead, but it’s…” She tapped one of her hooves, the curls of her mane bobbing gently. “It’s complicated. Like, really complicated. Mostly, though, I’ve been watching you. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Are you hurt at all?” he asked, swallowing heavily. “Skimmer, I saw—”

“Hey, don’t worry about that. I stopped in to let you know I’m alive, and that’s what matters.” She smiled, then glanced over her withers. “Look, I’ll visit you again as soon as I can. Just, please take it easy. You’re embarrassing both of us.”

        

Tap fought against the straps, trying to sit up. “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“Yep!” She leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek. He could feel the teeth of her necklace dangling against him.

He reached out for her with his levitation, but she evaded his grasp. “Please, don’t go!”

“Sorry!” Tap blinked, and she was already in the corner of his vision, heading for the exit. “Remember, just relax, okay?” As the steel door rattled up, she cheerfully shouted, “I’ll be back, I promise!”

Another blink and she was gone. The door rattled closed behind her.

A sea of white noise washed over him in her absence, as though someone had suddenly cranked up the volume without pressing play. The silence was stifling. He realized a moment later that Rita had stopped banging around in her makeshift haven. When he glanced toward the dense wall of hanging cables, Rita was in the process of pushing her way out. She paused as she met his gaze, cocking her head, and then smiling.

“Rita…” The rest of the words just wouldn’t come. He gasped through his nose.

“You feeling chatty finally?” she chirped as she fluttered to his side. “You know I don’t wanna keep you strapped in this stupid bed all day, kinky as it is.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet!” Tap didn’t realize he was laughing until he heard Rita giggle. “Was this supposed to be a surprise or something? Why didn’t you tell me she was here, you feather-brain!?” He couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled, but it felt good.

Rita tilted her head again, arcing a brow. “Who was here?”

“Glade Skimmer!” He glanced down at the straps holding him to the bed, wiggling his forelegs. “Let me out of this thing, she said she would be right back.”

When Tap met Rita’s gaze again, her smile had gone missing. “Are you really gonna do this again? She’s dead. What aren’t you getting here?”

At a loss for words, Tap could only stare at her, his mouth agape. “I was just fucking talking to her!” he finally shouted.

“No, you were talking to yourself.” Rita shook her head, propping herself up with a forearm. “I thought maybe you were trying to talk to me, but no, you’d rather talk to imaginary ponies, I guess!” Rita chuckled her way into a long sigh. “Are you gonna be crazy for the rest of your life, or is this just a phase?”

The air felt stale as Tap filled his lungs, exhaling slowly. “Rita, I want you to let me up. I need to take a walk.”

“Are you gonna do something stupid?” she asked, frowning.

Tap shook his head, taking another deep breath. “Trust me, I’m not. I just have a lot of shit on my mind right now, and I’m not gonna get it sorted out strapped to this fucking bed.” He paused, and sniffed, wrinkling his nose. “Also I need a shower.”

Paharita’s claw hovered over the side of the bed. Her brow furrowed as she studied him. “You’re not gonna try and go after Littlepip?”

“No,” he muttered, looking away and swallowing his pride. “I’m just gonna go to Tenpony and back. Honest.”

“And then we can go loot Friendship City?!” she squealed right in his ear.

Wincing, Tap grunted, “I’ll think about it.”

With a nod, Rita reached down to undo the straps, taking a step back once he had been freed. Tap remained on his back, taking deep, slow breaths. After a few moments, he lifted a hoof to the cheek Skimmer had kissed. When he glanced down at that hoof, he noticed that something black had smeared across it.

Ashes…

|[(  ) ]|[BAR]|[o’o ]|

“I don’t understand.”

Skimmer opened her mouth to reply, but hesitated as the workshop shook and the lights flickered. A rumble of an explosion drowned everything out for several seconds. Tap had long since stopped counting the blasts, and their persistence had long since worn out his patience. The headache brewing just under his forehead certainly wasn’t helping to improve his mood, either. Dash was out of the question, as even the smallest hit would cause Glade Skimmer to flicker, like some sort of mirage.

“That was only a block away!” the griffon excitedly squawked from the other side of the room, eyes glued to a monitor. Tap and Skimmer remained seated, doing their best to ignore Paharita. “The Enclave would be better off if they didn’t even try to aim! They can’t hit the broad side of a cloud!”

“I told you already, it’s complicated! It’s like…” Skimmer held up her hoof, waving it around. “It almost feels like I’m dreaming. She won’t explain it to me. She says I’m not ready.”

Tap nodded slowly, chewing his lower lip. “So what do you think it means?”

Another explosion rocked the workshop, the lights dimming to near darkness until the tremors had passed. Tap noticed several new cracks in the ceiling as he dusted himself off.

“Skimmer,” he continued, turning his gaze toward her.

“Can we please not talk about this?” Skimmer looked away, brow knitted.

“What the hell are we supposed to talk about, then?” He snorted softly, ears folding back. “I’m kind of worried that I may have gone batshit here!”

Her eyes snapped forward, narrowing into a glare. “And you think I’m okay with the way things have turned out?” She slammed a hoof against the floor. “This is awful! I fucking hate it!”

“I didn’t fucking say that!” he spat, leaning toward her.

Skimmer slowly lifted herself to her hooves, avoiding eye contact. “I should go.”

“Go fucking where?” He got up to follow her, flicking his tail in frustration. “Where do you go when you aren’t here with me?!”

“That’s it! I’ve heard as much as I can stand!” Rita slammed her talons down on the desk with the monitor, and then whipped around, staring daggers at Tap. “If this tulpa malarkey keeps up, I’ll invent my own imaginary friend, and then I’ll annoy the horse-apples out of you all day for once!”

Tap gave Rita a sideways glance, mouth hanging open in disbelief. “Are you fucking serious? Go take a nap in a fucking ditch, Rita!”

A chorus of sharp pops from high powered rifles sounded from the street just beyond the alley, accompanied by shouting. Tap glanced to the door and held his breath, expecting some form of armored equine to come charging in. Evidently, the robots all felt the same way, because they all aimed for the door. The charge never came, and the sounds of gunfire gradually faded into the near distance.

“Wait,” Skimmer whispered, staring down at the floor. “What if she’s right?”

His eyes darted toward the griffon in question, who had resumed watching the war through a camera feed. “Who, Rita?”

“Yeah… I was scared to think about it but—” Skimmer looked up at him, eyes wide. “What if I’m not real? What if you’re just imagining me right now?”

“What?” Tap shook his head, his heart sinking. He did his best to drown out the doubt. “That’s stupid.”

“No, I’m serious!” she shouted with a wavering voice.

“You can think and stuff, right?” He lifted his hoof to the side of his head, waving it in a circle. “If you were imaginary, I would know what you’re thinking right now because I would be thinking it too.”

Skimmer gritted her teeth, her brow furrowing. “But what if you’re imagining that I can think and feel? What if you put up a mental wall or something to keep me separate from you?”

The thought of that sent a chill down Tap’s spine. He shook his head. “I don’t—”

“I mean, yeah, I feel like I’m real, and she seems real too, but what if you thought us both up?” Skimmer wasn’t even looking at him anymore. Her eyes were frantic, darting around the room. “Of course she would tell me that I’m real if she thinks she’s real too!”

“Skimmer, you’re real, okay?” He nodded, as though the motion would make it a fact. “I believe that you’re real.”

She was staring down at her own hooves now, sliding them across the floor. “But does that actually make me real? What happens if you stop believing that? What will happen to me?!”

“Hey, just calm your ass down, alright?” He lifted a hoof to her shoulder, and this time, she didn’t try to slip away. She felt warm, and soft, just like he remembered. “I don’t want you to be imaginary. I’m happy that you’re here, in whatever weird way that is.”

Glade Skimmer looked to his hoof, then met his gaze. “What if that isn’t enough?”

Tap forced himself to smile, pleading with his eyes. “It’s enough for me.”

A fluttering sound drew his attention. He looked to the other side of the room just in time to see Paharita flapping toward him, frowning intensely around her beak. She forced Skimmer to duck out of the way as she touched down in front of Tap, inspecting him like a piece of scrap.

Tap glared up at Rita as she stood up on her hind legs, forearms crossed over her chest. “Who the fuck—”

“Nope! I’m done playing this game.” Rita reached into her vest, producing a worn looking pack of playing cards. Skimmer scowled from behind her. “You’re worried if your imaginary friends are really imaginary or not? Here’s where we find out once and for all.”

Skimmer stepped around her, glancing nervously from Rita to Tap. “Wait… wait, what is she going to do?”

“Alright, you chicken-shit.” Tap narrowed his eyes, lifting his head defiantly. “How are you gonna prove this?”

Rita pointed a talon toward the mattress in the far corner. “Tell your imaginary friend to stand on the other side of the room, facing me.” She thrust her talon back at Tap, wiggling it for effect. “But you stay right where you are, and you can’t watch what I’m doing, ‘cause it’ll ruin the experiment.”

Tap nodded slowly as Rita continued. “I’m going to turn around, pick cards out of the deck at random, and show them to her without showing them to you. If she can tell you what is on each card without you having to look at them, then I guess she’s real, or you’re a mind reader, or some bizarre thing like that.”

Surprising himself, he gave the idea consideration. It sounded easy, quick, and painless. More importantly, it would shut Rita up once and for all regarding Lady Luck and, more recently, Glade Skimmer. Feeling confident, he gave another nod. It was at this point that Skimmer whimpered. When he looked toward her, he realized that she was quietly sobbing.

“I’m scared…” she whispered.

Rita cleared her throat. When he glanced up at her, she gestured impatiently toward the deck of cards.

“Hold the fuck on, okay? Damn.” Tap tried to smile as he locked eyes with Skimmer. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.”

Almost immediately after saying that, he felt guilt welling up inside. Skimmer shook her head, a few tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I need to know, Skimmer.” He lifted a hoof toward her face. “I need to find—”

She swatted his hoof away, shuddering and gasping. “I don’t want you to find out! What if you’re just imagining me after all? What then?!”

“I… I don’t know.” He shook his head and furrowed his brow, snorting softly. “But we won’t ever know unless we try, okay?”

“No! It’s not okay!” Skimmer wrenched herself away, galloping toward the door. “I-I can’t do this!”

Tap shoved Rita aside as he chased after Skimmer. The door had rolled up enough for her to slip under it, letting in the ambient rumble of warfare. Rita squawked with frustration in his wake, but he ignored it and slapped the panel to keep the door from closing.

“Skimmer!” he called after her. She had already reached the end of the alley.

“You’re not seriously thinking of going out there, are you?!” Rita screeched from behind him. “Your imagination is trying to get you killed!”

“Fuck it!” he barked, slamming the panel and ducking out into the chaos. “I’m going to Arbu!”

The door rattled shut behind him, and he cautiously made his way toward the street. At the end of the alley, Double Tap saw that the usual ruin and decay of Manehattan had been freshly ravaged.

Thick, black smoke filled the air, pouring out of burning infrastructure and fresh craters alike. All the fires had caused a red haze to build up under the cloud cover, and for a moment, Tap believed that he had stepped right into hell. All around him echoed screams and shouts, laced with the sounds of gunfire and explosives. Corpses, armored and unarmored, had been scattered around the street, sometimes quite literally. He felt naked in the midst of all this, as he had not bothered dressing or arming himself. The apparent descent of Equestria into all out war was also troubling, but his priorities were elsewhere.

Tap turned toward his usual route to Arbu, took a deep breath, and stepped into a gallop.

|[OUT]|[OF ]|[ODR]|

Glade Skimmer was waiting for him, just within the opened, unguarded gates of Arbu.

The entire town had been reduced to a charred husk of its former, cheerful glory. In the time between the massacre and this moment, the local wildlife had its way with the place. There were a few bones of equine origin lying around in the open, but no actual bodies to speak of. A distant rumble made him look back, his gaze lingering on the firefights raging in the distance. Someone, or something, was attempting to maintain a hole in the cloud cover over Tenpony. He could see figures darting through the columns of sunlight stretching down over the tower, accented by glimmers of multi-colored light and the occasional explosion.

“Why do you want to figure this out so badly?” he heard her say. “What if you don’t like what you find? What if it makes you hate me? What if it makes me disappear?” At barely a whimper, she added, “Why did you come here?”

“Because I’m ready to know the truth.” He turned, locking eyes with her. “And I want you to know that whatever that truth ends up being, no matter what, I’ll still love you.”

Skimmer nodded slowly, seemingly at a loss for words. When she finally found her voice, she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“That I never told you about… what I really was.” She pawed at the ground, breaking eye contact. “You know, about being a cannibal?”

Tap snickered and shook his head, lifting a hoof to her withers. “It’s kinda silly that you didn’t tell me, really.” She lifted her head slowly, sniffling. “I get paid to kill ponies,” he continued, grinning. “My job literally makes fresh corpses. I could have brought you some, had a nice, romantic dinner...”

They burst out laughing, leaning into one another until the chuckling faded into nothing. After a while, he eased back, looking into her eyes. The fear was still there, just beneath the surface, but she had stopped crying. He smiled briefly, and the gesture was half-heartedly returned.

“I’m gonna start poking around,” Tap gently told her, rubbing his hoof over her foreleg before letting it drop back into the soot blackened soil. “Do you wanna tag along?”

Skimmer shook her head. “I’m gonna wait here. Be careful, okay?”

The entrance to Glade Skimmer’s home was mostly collapsed. From the look of it, the debris had settled in a way that he would have to climb through the wreckage of the second floor before he would be able to descend into the basement. Tap took a few steps toward that once familiar place, then glanced back at her. She took a deep breath and nodded, standing brave and tall.

Double Tap smiled before returning his attention to the task at hoof.

It was not a difficult climb. His hooves slipped once or twice on the way up, but after reaching mostly level terrain, he was easily able to move through the charred debris. Jagged sections of the second floor bordered the scorched walls, allowing him to move more freely toward the rear stairs. Portions of the roof had also survived, allowing long beams of sickly light to filter in through the dust and into the enormous hole that went all the way down to the basement. He could feel the floor trembling and creaking under his hooves, threatening to give, but never making good on such threats.

The landscape felt alien, as though it were his first time in that space, and in a strange way, that felt comforting. This was not the home away from home he so fondly remembered. The wonderful meals he had eaten, the stories he had heard and shared, and the pleasant company he had enjoyed all belonged to another place and time.

At the rear of the building, the staircase was still mostly intact. He began a slow, careful descent, avoiding the steps that the fire had nearly licked through. The hole in the first floor’s back wall gave him reason to pause. This was the hole he, Skimmer, and Lady Luck had escaped through. He briefly looked the other way, out into the gaping, burnt out chasm that the first floor had become, and then continued down.

A humid sort of gloom awaited him in the dimly lit basement. It had clearly rained since the massacre, and though the foundation wasn’t flooded, most of the moisture lingered in the air, just a few notches below fog. Most of the wooden wreckage had been burned away, leaving nothing but long shards of charcoal jutting from piles of damp ash.

Tap moved with caution, thinking back on his battle with Littlepip to retrace his steps. He chewed his lower lip as he approached the safe at the far end of the room. He had been in such a hurry to get here, but the possibilities of what lay ahead made him hesitant. Anxiety tied knots in his stomach as, slowly, he stepped around several scorched barrels and into the clearing where he had taken a bullet to the chest.

His wilder notions were instantly dismissed. There was no monster waiting for him, Lady Luck or otherwise. There were no notes, or clues, or puzzles, either.

The remains of Glade Skimmer lay across the floor, one foreleg outstretched. She had burned away to little more than a skeleton.

It was what a large part of him had expected to see, but actually seeing it left him feeling strange. He stood there for a long while, almost expecting something to happen, but nothing changed. It was the stillness that made him uncomfortable. Her suffering had ended, and now, she was nothing but tranquil. Swallowing, he turned back, making his way to the surface.

What should I tell her? He asked himself, ascending to the second floor. Should I tell her at all? As he skirted the edge of the massive hole in the second floor, his questioning changed course. Is that even her body? If she died down there, then who, or what, have I been talking to?

Tap was still struggling with his next course of action when he reached the collapsed front wall of the building. He had a full view of the town from where he stood, and looking out over the square, he felt horribly alone once more.

Glade Skimmer was nowhere to be seen.

The urge to call out for her died before her name could leave the tip of his tongue. A shudder ran through him as he exhaled. For what felt to him like hours, he sat amongst the rubble, watching the clouds roll across the sky and listening to battles raging in the distance.

There’s something I need to do, he told himself, getting back to his hooves.

Despite the fire that had obliterated Arbu, he was still able to find a blanket and a shovel in mostly good condition. With the blanket over his back he returned to the spot where Skimmer had fallen. A cloud of dust rolled up around the edges of the blanket as he spread it out beside her. A pang of dread settled in his stomach as he carefully levitated Skimmer’s remains, fearing that he might break or somehow damage them. He set her bones down on the blanket with no such complications, and carefully wrapped them, lifting again by the fabric surrounding her.

His return to the surface was a slow one. There was no reason to rush anymore.

Through the hole Lady Luck had made in the back wall, he stepped out into the sickly light of day. He set his sights on a hill that overlooked the radigator farm. The tree at the top was where he gently set down her remains, digging her grave between its gnarled roots. He set the shovel aside once the hole was deep enough, and found himself staring down at the bundled blanket.

“I don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore, but… I need to do this for you. I owe this to you.”

“And I’m sorry,” he whispered, glancing across the scorched threads.

“I’m sorry that this happened to you.”

He grinded his teeth, his chest rising fitfully as he drew breath.

“I should have killed that bitch before she could hurt you and your family. Should have fought harder. Been fucking better. I…” He glanced away, exhaling.  “Sorry. You probably don’t want to hear shit like that when I’m supposed to be saying goodbye. Talking has never really been my thing, but the least I can do is say something nice and bury you proper.”

When Tap closed his eyes, his thoughts lingered on Skimmer’s final moments. The sad, peaceful way she had looked at him as she burned. She had reached out for him, he remembered. He swallowed, feeling a tremble in his hooves.

“But you did deserve better than what I could give you.” He looked down at her wrapped form again, imagining the skimmer he used to know was sleeping peacefully beneath the singed fabric. “Maybe you thought I was some kind of hero, or someone to look up to. Not like, going around and saving ponies, or making the world better, ‘cause I never saw a problem with the world to begin with. I just... it seemed like you saw me as someone to follow and model yourself after. You definitely made me feel that way, at least.

“The truth is, I don’t think I’m any of those things.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the pony you thought I was.”

He sighed softly, shaking his head. “You and I got pulled into all this Littlepip shit, even though it had nothing to do with us, and we got chewed up in the process.” Deep wrinkles formed along his snout as he briefly sneered. “I guess that’s what world changing ponies do. They do what they think is right, no matter who gets hurt in the process. It’s definitely fucking not for me.”

The blanket began to glow. He lifted Skimmer off the ground and lowered her into the earth. He thought back to all the times she had fallen asleep beside him, and how he had gently pulled a blanket over her whenever there was one available. It felt strangely similar, but not unsettling.

The glow of his magic shifted to the shovel. He took it between his forelegs, leaning against it. “This is probably the part where I’m supposed to vow revenge, or something, but I just…” He shook his head, his vision blurring. “I don’t have it in me.”

“When I think of my dad… I’ve killed enough assholes now to have avenged him plenty of times over, but I pinned all that anger to his memories, and now I’m just reminded of the pain losing him because I was so determined to make them pay.”

He felt warmth rolling down his cheeks when he blinked. “I don’t want that to happen again. If my memories of you are all I have left now, I don’t want them to turn sour. They should remind me of when things were good, and they should make me happy, even if there’s a little bit of sad mixed in. They shouldn’t be ammunition, you know?

“And a big part of me feels like you wouldn’t want me to do that anyway. Rita is probably right. Littlepip would lay me the fuck out if I tried to kill her again, and what good would that do you?” He sniffled, dragging a fetlock across his nose. “But… If I’m wrong, I hope you don’t hold it against me.”

The silence stretched on. He looked up, through the branches, and into the cloudy sky. It was time. Bracing against the shovel in his grasp, he eased onto his hind legs, and started heaping the earth over her. His tears dampened the soil as his quiet sobs fell on deaf ears. When the work was done, he sat back, looking over the mound of dirt.

“There were so many things I wanted to show you and teach you. So many things I wanted to share with you.”  A smile crossed his muzzle, though his brow furrowed with sadness. “But, even if the time I spent with you was short, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. You were a beautiful pony, Glade Skimmer, and I’ll never forget you.”

On shaking legs, he slowly stood, taking a deep breath.

“I guess I… I just hope that, wherever you are, you’re getting a good laugh at all this sentimental shit.” He laughed through the tears, then gasped, choking down a whimper. “I’m really gonna miss you, kid.”

As he turned away, a delicate sound rang through his ears.

Laughter.

“Skimmer?”

Something was hanging from a low branch when he glanced back. His eyes widened as he realized what it was. Polished radigator teeth glimmered even in the muted light of day, held together by a black, leather cord. The necklace swayed lightly, making the branch bob under its weight. There was no breeze, and the other branches remained completely still. He hesitated to reach for it. After it had stopped moving, he wrapped it in his levitation and brought it closer.

It was still warm.

Double Tap clutched the necklace to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Thank you.”

|[ /_\ ]|[ /_\ ]|[ /_\ ]|

Beams of near-blinding light stretched into the sky over Tenpony Tower in frequent, erratic bursts as Tap made his way through the burning ruins of Manehattan.

At first, he thought the tower was being struck by some sort of weapon, likely being wielded by the Enclave that Paharita occasionally whined about. As he continued to watch, he realized that the light seemed to be erupting from the tower itself, disappearing through the hole in the clouds and out of sight. Some of the ponies waging war on the ground seemed to be in a similar state of awe. He passed by several ponies in various flavors of power armor that had stopped fighting outright, staring up at the brilliant display.

As he came within a few blocks of the workshop, he rested against the corner of a building, watching airborne ponies and griffons clash along the undersides of the clouds. His hoof brushed against the toothy necklace, briefly clutching it to his chest.

It fit snugly, as it had been intended for a smaller neck, but wearing it gave him peace of mind.

If this is the end of the world again, or something, he thought, flicking one of the teeth, I guess I’m going out on a pretty high note.

Not more than a moment later, the clouds all seemed to tremble, as if something had shaken the sky. His eyes widened as the clouds began to peel away, dissolving, and an overpowering light poured in through the gaps. He cringed and shielded his eyes. Believing his idle thoughts about the end of the world to have become a reality, he braced for death. No harm came to him, and after a while, he cautiously lowered his hoof, squinting into the glare.

He was familiar with the concept of the sun, and he had seen glimpses of what lay beyond the clouds, but never once had he been exposed either in their entirety beyond his cryptic dreams. As his eyes gradually adjusted to the vivid brightness, he began to survey the deep, endless blue that had been revealed. Its beauty was overshadowed by its unfamiliar nature. High above, he could see pegasi zipping and darting frantically through the air, almost flying in circles. He could only guess that they were just as surprised by this turn of events as he was.

It occurred to him as he came out of his daze that the rumbles and thumps of battle had nearly ceased, now distant and infrequent. Even so, he was less than eager to remain out in the intense, uninhibited light of day. Something about the absence of the overcast he had grown up under made him feel especially vulnerable.

The rest of the trip home was traveled at a brisk canter, with the occasional, curiosity fueled glance upward. He rounded the corner, into the alley to the workshop, and brought his gaze back to ground level. Paharita was sprawled out on some kind of reclining chair, wearing sun glasses and some kind of fold-out, reflective screen around her feathery neck. The sight alone made him stop in his tracks, as did the robots and turrets in defensive positions around her.

Rita casually lowered the sun-reflector and lifted her shades.

“Oh, good!” She flashed a toothy grin around her beak. “You’re not dead! Are you done being weird now?”

Tap scowled, flicking an ear. “Eat a dick.”

“That’s more like it!” Rita gave a thumbs up, which Tap assumed to be a gesture of vulgarity.

“So what the fuck just happened?” He resumed his advance as the robots lowered their weapons, motioning toward the sky with a tilt of his head. “Why are the clouds gone?”

With an excited little clap, Rita bubbled, “Littlepip did that! You know what that means, don’t you?”

“I—”

“It means the good guys won!” The reflective paneling fell away from her as she sat up, forearms and wings spread. “Isn’t that totally awesome?!”

Tap wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. As the griffon reached for what she had dropped, Tap droned, “Rita… we’re bad guys.”

Paharita blinked several times, scratching the side of her head. “Oh yeah...”

|[o’o ]|[  7 ]|[BAR]|

Chapter 8 - Employment Opportunities

~~~|*/\*|~~~

I’ve had dreams where I’ve saved my dad. 

Sometimes I save him when I’m still a colt through dumb luck, and sometimes I’m as old as I am now, and those sneering fuckers don’t stand a chance. It feels so good, you know? To make it right, to stop them from taking him from me, because all I’ve ever really wanted is to get him back. But, honestly, those dreams are even worse than the ones where I watch him die.

May I ask why?

It’s the worst kind of false hope you can get. When you’re dreaming, and you don’t know it’s a dream, it’s so easy to believe what you’re seeing. That feeling of joy and satisfaction, doing what you couldn’t do before, getting that second chance to stop everything from changing. 

But then, when you wake up…

It breaks your heart, doesn’t it? Oh, you poor dear. I know exactly how that feels.

I’d rather live in the present, where I know that what has happened can’t be undone, than fool myself into thinking that I can change the past.

And the future?

Hmm?

Have you ever thought about how you can change the future? So that history cannot repeat itself.

I’ve really never thought about my own future. I always assumed that sooner or later, my luck would run out.

And what if it doesn’t?

Hah. That would be pretty wild, but no one has that much luck. Not even me. History repeats itself because that’s just the way things are. There’s nothing I can do to change the world, and I’ve never really wanted to change it, either.

But, are you happy living in the now, with no hope for tomorrow?

No. But what else is there?

Whatever you make for yourself.

~~~|*/\*|~~~

Chapter Eight – Employment Opportunities

|[ /_\ ]|[BAR]|[(  ) ]|

The novelty of seeing a blue sky was quick to fade for Double Tap. Having grown up in a world where sunlight filtered through overcast, he quickly came to the conclusion that this was not a welcomed change. Adding to this sentiment was the vague indication that Littlepip had something to do with it. He was still struggling to adjust to the overwhelming brightness when Paharita rolled off of her folding chair and beckoned for him to follow. Going inside suited him just fine, especially when he began to hear the distant whoops and cheers of ponies singing praise for their Light-Bringer. Nausea and resentment mingled at the back of his throat.

“I don’t see what the big fucking deal is,” he muttered as the last robot trundled over the threshold behind him. “I’ve screwed in plenty of light-bulbs. How come I don’t have a stupid-ass medal for that?”

“You’re so jealous!” Paharita sang as she crossed the room, wings fluttering at her sides.

Tap stomped. “I’m not fucking jealous!”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she glanced back at him. “Oh, this is priceless. Let me get a camera so I can remember this forever.”

Double Tap sneered and trudged over to the mattress in the corner. It had been a very, very long day, and drinking until he passed out was a comforting notion. Paharita had other plans. In the same instant that he put a hoof on the ragged sheets, a pint sized griffon bounced into view, grinning as she met his narrowing gaze.

“I made—”

Tap cut her off with a snort. “No. Not in the mood for this shit.” He flicked an ear as she began to pout. “I’ve been through a lot and I don’t want to be awake anymore.”

Rita threw her claws in the air, wiggling her talons. “Wow! Cry me a river!” She let one claw drop, the other prodding him in the chest with an extended talon. “We have business to discuss first, bub!”

“Fuck my life— what do you need to discuss with me you salmonella cunt?”

She had crossed her arms over her chest at that point, shrugging exaggeratedly. “Oh, I dunno, you racist! Maybe the fact that we’re broke?”

“Wh—” It took a moment for Tap to completely comprehend what had just been told to him. His jaw went slack until he shouted, “How did we go broke?!”

“And that was the hook!” She flashed a toothy grin. “I bet you wanna watch my presentation now, huh?”

He didn’t dare admit it, but she was right. A bad memory surfaced moments later. “You’re not gonna do the projector thing again, are you? You almost melted a damn wall the last time.”

Rita laughed and waved her claw. “Please. I’ve made improvements since then.”

Tap did not find her statement reassuring. The brain-bot shambled up beside the bed before he could make any further arguments. As its transparent brain case sloshed to a standstill, Rita tugged a cord from the side of her PipBuck and plugged it into the idling robot. The lights dimmed, and then the case began to glow continuously pink. A projected line graph illuminated the far wall via a wide, thin beam. Rita fished a laser pointer out of her vest and aimed it at the graph.

“So as you can see, a few months ago, we were getting a little low on funds. It dips every time we had to bribe our way past Red Eye’s guys to get into Tenpony Tower.” The red dot followed the steadily declining slope to a star. “And this here indicates when we got hired to assassinate Littlepip. The dotted line there shows how much money we should have made from that job.”

The glowing point hovered on a cliff, high above the star, while she gave him a sideways glance.

A defeated sigh washed over Tap’s lips. “Suck my dick, Rita.”

Her look of disapproval was replaced with an eager grin. “Later! So anyway, more bribes, the anti-machine rifle I bought off of Gawdyna because you wouldn’t keep your mouth shut, and all this time we’re trickling funds on food and drink—”

“I want to sleep,” Tap interrupted, rolling his eyes. “What’s your point?”

“And your Tenpony freakout cost us waaaay more than I would have liked.” She clicked her beak a few times, then gestured to the projection. “My point is, you took so long to screw up the Steel Ranger contract, and then you sat on your butt, ignoring new contracts, so now we’re practically in the tank! If I had known you would blow it this badly, I’d have never taken that job!”

The struggle to come up with a defense was not going well for Tap. In an attempt to buy time, he shouted, “When the fuck did you mention smaller contracts?”

Rita threw up her claws again. “How about Mayor Blackseas over at Friendship City? Tub-o was gonna pay us really good for that, and I only told you about that one like, twenty times!”

When it clicked, Tap grit his teeth and glowered, thumping his hoof on the mattress. “I was mourning, you fuck!”

“You don’t get paid to mourn! Duh!”

He looked back at the graph, realizing that it briefly spiked after the skull and crossbones labeled ‘Arbu’, before it continued to nose dive. “So what is that shit, then?”

“Oh, that’s all the stuff I grabbed from the Bucklyn outpost!” Rita grinned and nodded. “I made a few thousand caps selling it to Applejack’s Rangers!”

“Then why the hell does it keep going down?” His ears began to splay, dreading what her answer would be.

In a matter-of-fact way, Rita stated, “I spent it on parts to upgrade my robots.”

Speechless, he continued to follow the graph. It spiked a second time, then dipped even farther.

“Friendship City looting,” she cheerfully informed him. “Also thanks for helping with that. Not.”

Tap bolted up, looming over her. “What the fuck are you doing with the money you make on salvage shit, Rita?!”

“I bought myself something nice!” She upturned her beak and looked away. “Jeeze, you’re not the police of me!”

“Are you fucking serious right now or what?” He could feel his face burning red, wrinkles cascading down the bridge of his muzzle like a landslide. “You knew we were running out of money! What the hell is your problem?!”

With a brow raised, Rita sighed and gave him another sideways glance. “You need to calm your butt down, mister. Like always, I know how to make this all better.”

There were so many vulgarities on their way up Tap’s throat that all he could manage was a groan of frustration. He sat back on his haunches and covered his face with a hoof, slowly dragging it downwards. Rita continued her presentation, un-phased.

“As it turns out, it’s actually okay that we didn’t take the Blackseas contract, because a much, much bigger fish is dangling over the frying pan now.” She waited, bobbing and grinning as she looked him in the eyes. Tap remained silent. “Now this is super confidential, but one of the Applejack’s Rangers that I made nice with while selling them back their junk sent me some juicy info. A lot of the refugees from Friendship City are supposedly pooling their caps to put out a pretty hefty bounty. It doesn’t hold a candle to the Littlepip contract, but—”

“For fuck’s sake,” Tap growled, glaring at Rita with one eye open. “Spit it out already.”

Rita ruffled her feathers. “Oh. My. Gosh. I was just getting to it! Ahem. If what I heard was true, and I can seal the deal on this contract, we’re going big game hunting!” Tap maintained his cold, blank, one-eyed stare. She scratched the side of her neck. “Do I have to bludgeon you with this? They’re after Fatty-Fats! From Friendship City!”

Tap blinked once, and Rita grabbed him by the withers, shaking him. “Raspberry Tart!” She let him go, still shaking her claws. “That’s why I was making all those fat jokes! Jeeze what happened to your sense of humor?!”

“Are we done?” he droned.

“You’re such a grouch lately.” She lidded her eyes and extended a claw, brushing down the side of his foreleg. “I know something that’ll cheer you right up, though!”

“Rita—” he began, but he allowed his protest to fall short.

Reluctantly, he lay out on his side, with Rita eagerly looming over his flank. She leered up at him, licking her beak as she lifted his hind leg to expose his sheath. There was nothing unusual about what was unfolding, but something about it didn’t feel right with Tap. His brow furrowed as he watched and felt her start to nudge, the upper curve of her beak just a bit cold against his flesh. Experience told him that he should have been starting to show. Instead, for whatever reason, he felt almost numb. After about a minute of this, with no results, Rita peered up at him.

“What gives?”

“I just... I feel like there’s something wrong with me.” He sighed and shook his head. “I dunno.”

“You dunno?” She gave him a flick across the sheath. “It looks to me like your pecker needs a jump start. I’ll go get the drugs!”

Tap looked away. “I don’t really want to do this right now.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.” She crawled around until the feathery corner of her beak was inches from his lips. “Maybe you just need momma to give you some sugar.”

He leaned away as she tried to move in for a kiss, and then again. He felt her claw wrap around his foreleg as she came in for a third attempt, and his blank expression became an angry frown.

With a little shove, he pushed her off. “I said I don’t want to do this. Fuck off.”

“Ugh!” Rita pushed herself off of the bed, unplugging her PipBuck mid-stride. “Whatever! Have fun sleeping, you jerk.”

Sighing again, Tap reached out with his magic, snagging a bottle of vodka. As he pulled the cork, he noticed that the wall she had been projecting on was now emitting wisps of smoke. The outline of the graph glowed like an ember, etched into the wall. He shook his head, tipped the bottle up, and chugged his way to a blackout.

|[  7 ]|[o8- ]|[  7 ]|

Tap could scarcely recognize the outside world the following morning.

The carnage was so fresh that scavengers had yet to harvest from the power armor clad corpses that littered the streets, and there was also stillness to it all, like something out of an old photograph. Only now, it wasn’t a black and white photograph. He could reach out and touch the metal in the shape of ponies, scorched by blasts and riddled with bullet holes, painted with rivers of dried blood. He had seen plenty of death in his lifetime, but the nature of this was somehow awe inspiring; a combination of the scale of it, and the fact that it hadn’t been a skirmish with lawless raiders, but a war between legitimate military forces. He couldn’t help but wonder if this sight would become regularity.

Beyond that, the landscape was the same, but now there was too much light, too much color, and the sky seemed naked without a blanket of clouds. Dash and alcohol failed to make it any more familiar or any less alien. More important and troubling was the sharp decrease in the amount of shadows. Unobstructed sunlight meant that there were fewer places to hide until the sun went down, which made him feel particularly vulnerable.

All of this worked together to ensure that the anxiety in the pit of Tap’s stomach could not be quelled.

He had donned a pair of round-rimmed sun glasses to avoid squinting for the duration of their trip to Stable Twenty-Nine, which had the added bonus of giving everything an amber tint. He had not accounted for the heat, however. The presence of the sun seemed to cause the temperature to shoot up, and he was regretting wearing his usual vest and sweater on account of the sleeves. Rita had been able to slap together more knives for him, but with almost no money left to buy components for modifications, he had to settle for stock as far as primary firearms. The forty-five pistol felt too heavy in its holster, and strapped to his back, the Punchline was just as cumbersome as ever. No amount of wishing could send the Punchline to take the place of his trusty Comedies during the blaze of Arbu. Its continued presence felt like an insult.

Occasionally, a few distant cracks of gunfire would break the silence; a callback to the familiarity that had been stripped away, a reminder that not everything had changed. He clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t last, and everything would go back to normal. Even Rita was unusually quiet, her PipBuck’s earbuds buried in the feathery sides of her head as she skipped along beside him. She may well have been the most annoying individual he had ever had the displeasure of associating with, but at least she was still Paharita. Against his better judgment, he provoked her.

“How does anyone know for sure that little shit caused this?” he asked, leaning over far enough that he could hear a few notes trickling from her ear-buds.

She donned a wide grin, glancing over at him. “As usual, I heard it from DJ—”

“Nevermind,” he grumbled, looking down at the dirt and regretting his decision. “But Red Eye is probably already doing something about this, right?”

Instead of answering, Rita started to giggle.

Tap raised his head and a brow in quick succession. “I mean I know he was supposed to ascend and all and maybe he would have done something like this himself but he wouldn’t—” He trailed off as Rita’s giggling developed into a full fit of laughter. “What is so fucking funny?”

“He dead!” she shouted between cackles.

His hackles stood on end. “What?!”

The two of them had slowed to a stop, Tap out of disbelief and Rita because it was too difficult to walk while laughing hysterically.

Rita took a deep breath and held up a claw. “He got shot in the butt—”

“Nobody dies from getting shot in the butt!” He stomped a hoof in outrage.

“And!” She waggled an extended talon. “And he got dropped into a vat of alicorn goop!”

“Holy fucking shit! How?!” But he already knew the answer. It was the sickeningly smug grin plastered on either side of Rita’s beak. It was too much for him to bear. He collapsed into the dust, gripping the sides of his head as his world fell apart all over again. “I’ll fucking kill her!”

Her cackling continued. “You kinda missed the boat on that, buddy! I hear she’s all holed up in some kind of Enclave weather machine, and those pega-sickos have been trying to crack that egg for centuries! That’s how she did the trick with the clouds, by the way. She is so cool.”

Tap’s jaw hung slack. “Well she’s gotta come outta there sometime!”

“Mmmno. I think there’s some kinda suspended animation thing in there, so she can stay in there forever!”

Tap let out a low groan and closed his eyes. Moments later, he felt a wing drape over his back.

“You’re not gonna mope around for weeks because of this, are you?” She had seated herself nearly at his side, gently rubbing her feathers over his withers. “Look on the bright side! Now I don’t have to worry about that long-winded dummy getting in the way of my plans! Plus, this kind of a power vacuum is great for us. Think of all the contracts we’ll get!”

Too distraught to sling profanity, he rolled his eyes up at her and sighed through his nose. She had a point, however irrelevant it may have been. Her feathers fanned his mane and tail as she gave him a few pats on the back, and he slowly got back to his hooves.

“Let’s just get this over with,” he mumbled, blowing strands of his mane out of his eyes.

“That’s the spirit!”

Tap decided to complete the rest of the trip without conversing with Rita, at the risk that she might say something else that would shake him to the core. His thoughts lingered on Red Eye as they put the freshly war-torn cityscape of Manehattan behind them. Surely, by some miracle, his idol had survived the wounds and the toxicity of his chemical bath. There was a strong urge to ask if anyone had actually seen the body, but Tap decided it was a question better left unasked. With Arbu and Glade Skimmer gone, and the entire wasteland bathed in sunlight, his faith in Red Eye was all he had left.

They were stopped briefly on their approach to Fetlock. Like Manehattan, the remains of the town had been recently bombarded, though to a lesser degree. The Applejack’s Rangers were still on high alert. After being stripped of their weapons, a pair of ponies with painted armor escorted them down to the foyer of Stable Twenty-Nine. The foyer had been outfitted with numerous defensive positions, all facing toward the only way in and out of the structure.

Stables had always made Double Tap uncomfortable. Growing up on the surface, he felt more at home in open spaces. Part of him felt as though it was the lack of windows and alternate exits, and there was also the fact that the majority of stables were constructed underground. Paharita had called him claustrophobic once or twice, but it was only stables and similar constructions that made him uneasy. He rationalized it as a fear of being trapped more than a fear of tight quarters.

To the stable’s credit, however, there seemed to be no issue in housing both Applejack’s Rangers and the refugees from Friendship City. Various signs of life adorned the corridors, from toys and crayon drawings to stray articles of clothing and scraps of garbage. Numerous ponies passed in the opposite direction as Rita led him toward the cafeteria, most of whom gave them funny looks, none of whom he recognized. The buzz of conversation echoed from every direction, growing louder and clearer, until they arrived at their destination. He noted that, for ponies that had just recently been uprooted from their homes, they seemed to be in very high spirits. Most of them were eating and conversing, but a few of them seemed to be singing, others dancing on the tables, some doing both. There were multiple power-armored ponies in their midst as well, laughing along, enjoying their meals and their company.

A smile crept over his lips, which he didn’t notice until moments later.

“Helloooooo?” Paharita sang as she edged into view, waving a claw in his face. Tap blinked, his smile vanishing, and the griffon snickered. “You wait here, okay?” She was already several paces away, following an armored unicorn that had her helmet dangling from her shoulder. “Gumdrop is gonna show me to our client!”

“I don’t have any money for food,” he called out to her, ears splayed. She shrugged and kept on walking.

For a few minutes, he stood at the mouth of the mess hall. There was a compulsion to join in their celebration. As he gave in and approached, one of the singing ponies began banging on a trash can. Eventually, the entire room fell into hushed murmurs. The pony that had gotten everyone’s attention climbed awkwardly up onto a table. Tap could practically smell the booze from across the room.

“I wanna make a toast!” he almost slurred. “First, to our brothers and sisters of the Applejack’s Rangers, who have showed us so much compassion in our time of need!” The volume of the gathering began to increase in agreement, but he stomped on the table to quiet them again. “And I wanna toast to the toaster repair-pony! The mare that brought light back to Equestria! Our savior and hero!”

Tap’s opinion of the festivities instantly tanked. He seethed as cheering and hollering reverberated through the room, and decided to express his disgust. Glaring at the smug looking pony on the table in the middle of the crowded room, Tap hawked up a glob of saliva and snot and spat on the floor. This only brought marginal satisfaction, because he knew the floor didn’t belong to the toast-giver, but it was the dissent that counted.

It occurred to him a moment later that this act had not gone unnoticed. He turned to see that more ponies had filed in behind him in the time since his arrival, and they were giving him looks of scrutiny and disapproval. Tap snickered, but his amusement was dampened as he saw that there was no longer a clear path to the exit, either. He began going through the motions of slinking away when that same partially-slurred voice thundered unintelligibly behind him.

The crowd was letting him stumble through with no problems, but they seemed to form a net against Tap, barring his escape. They surged and forced Tap forward a few paces. He grunted, flicking his tail, but kept his eyes on the approaching earth pony.

He may have lacked a horn, but he looked much bigger up close. “You gotta problem with my toast, fucker?!”

“It left a bad taste in my mouth,” Tap monotoned.

The drunken pony swaggered to the left, and Tap did the same, circling the edge of the crowd. “Oh, you’re a funny guy, huh?”

“Sure, I’m hilarious.” The other stallion’s face folded with anger, and as Tap began having second thoughts about fighting him. He was completely surrounded. Will this turn into a lynching? Will the Applejack’s Rangers step in before that? 

Before he could respond, Tap added, “Look, you all want to have a good time and eat and drink and fuck or whatever. That’s great. I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday, and I don’t have any money, so I’m real fucking sorry that I’m not a ray of sunshine like all of you.”

To Tap’s surprise, that seemed to change the pony’s demeanor. Chuckling a little, he slurred, “Tell ya what; you toast with me, and I’ll buy you a meal.” He lifted his hoof toward Tap, holding it out for him. “That’s what Littlepip would want, right?”

Free food was a tempting offer, but Tap wasn’t sure that if he played along, he would be able to stomach it. Tap studied the offered hoof, meanwhile clutching Skimmer’s toothy necklace through his clothes. A spark of mischief flickered in his thoughts.

Grinning, Tap nodded and shook the offered hoof. “Right. To Littlepip.”

He choked down the bile and followed the pony to a seat. In minutes, there was a hot meal before him, which he devoured with gusto, occasionally yessing along whatever nonsense his inebriated host would spew. Rita’s voice cut through the murmuring crowd not long after Tap had finished. He thanked the earth pony and parted ways having experienced the magic of friendship.

-0-

Tap let his hoof drop to the floor with a heavy thump.  “On second thought—” His eyes narrowed into a glare. “You can go suck Littlepip’s dick.”

There was an immense satisfaction in this moment of defiance. The drunk stallion was completely speechless, his offered hoof wilting. Several of the faces around him looked downright horrified by what Tap had said. Grinning ear to ear, Tap prepared to make his escape. However, everyone’s shock was fading fast. Once the moment had passed, the uproar was deafening.

Unfortunately for Tap, his escape plan hinged on being able to get his flash and decoy spells off in time. The mare to his left wasted no time physically reprimanding Tap. He spat blood as he was slugged right in the face, the sunglasses knocked clean off his nose, but he remained standing. Impulsively, he wheeled around and kicked her so hard that she was thrown onto her back. A gasp went up from the crowd, which was effectively his cue to distance himself from the situation.

From somewhere nearby, a pony thundered, “That’s my sister you cunt!”

The blow had interrupted his spell casting. He made a second attempt at completing the flash spell, only to be rushed by five ponies at once. Tap actually managed to hold his own for a few swings, blocking and dodging and trading hits. One of the attacking ponies howled and toppled as Tap struck a group of nerves along the jaw line, only to be replaced by two more. Without a hit of dash in his system, and what may well have been an endless supply of reinforcements, the blows rained down faster than he could manage.

Someone swept the hooves right out from under him, and he landed on his side with a heavy slap. The beating continued relentlessly, his breath wrenched away by several blows to the stomach, his vision blurring as his head was stomped. He could see the outline of a pony in power armor standing in the crowd, but the Applejack’s Ranger didn’t seem to be in any hurry to stop the violence. If anything, from what he could hear through the ringing in his bloodied ears, the ranger was cheering them on.

All at once, everything came to a halt. It took him a moment to comprehend that someone was shouting, and another moment to identify the voice as Paharita’s.

“That doesn’t look like love and tolerance to me!” she squawked, her paws settling at the fuzzy corner of his perception. “So he’s kind of a jerk and he has really, really dumb opinions; that doesn’t give you the right to beat the snot out of him! What do you think Littlepip would say if she saw you all acting like this? In her name, no less!”

Tap could feel his brain sloshing around as he slowly rolled onto his stomach, several sharp pains buzzing his nervous system into overload. He wasn’t sure about his ribs, but none of his legs felt like they were broken. Trembling, he lifted himself up, nearly spilling back to the floor as his battered muscles threatened to give out under him. A few splotches of his own blood glistened on the floor where he had been laid out, added to by the rivulets flowing from his nose and lips. And yet, it had all been worth it for the chance to slander her name. He squinted out of one eye as he donned a bloody smile, levitating his sunglasses back onto his face.

She scolded, “For shame! We can be better than this!” All present cowered away like foals. “Let’s leave all of this violence in the past, where it belongs!”

“Wait,” shouted someone in the crowd. “Didn’t you do business with Raspberry Tart?” A hush fell over the room, all eyes on the Rita.

She cleared her throat and ruffled her feathers. “That was probably some other griffon! Me and my partner were actually here to ask about the bounty you poor, lovely ponies put out on her!” She reared up and clutched her claws together, smiling. “We’re just so eager to help bring her to justice!”

Another, closer voice cried, “That asshole is your partner?!”

Rita dropped back to all fours. Their gazes met briefly, exchanging looks of apprehension.

“Eeeeeyes! He’s a bit of a sourpuss, but he has a heart of gold! Really!” As grunts of disapproval filled the air, Rita turned toward the exit and, mid-stride, muttered, “Let’s go, loudmouth.”

The Applejack’s Ranger Rita had identified as Gumdrop escorted them to the lobby to make sure they were allowed to exit unmolested, but that didn’t stop anyone from giving him the stink eye on his way out. This treatment felt similar to what he was used to at Tenpony Tower, and yet, it differed strongly. He had been threatened and cursed out many times for slandering DJ Ponethree and adamantly supporting Red Eye, but no one had ever actually gotten violent about it. He was still thinking it through as he stepped out into glaring light of day once again.

They stopped about a block from the stable entrance, and Tap lowered his aching body to the dust. Rita sat beside him and offered a healing potion, which he snatched without hesitation. When she offered him his weapons, however, he shook his head and started chugging. She started going over her wings with her beak as the potion went to work.

“Love and tolerance, Rita? Really?” He wiped a bit of potion from the corner of his mouth, clenching his teeth as one of his ribs cracked back into place. “Did DJ Ponethree tell you to say that?”

Rita snorting out a laugh. “Pfft! No!” She glanced over at him and rolled her eyes. “DJ Ponethree would never say something that stupid! And what is your deal, anyway? You can’t even pretend to like Littlepip?”

The bruises and welts began to lift as his cuts and scrapes closed up like zippers. “I’d rather break my fucking back.” He winced as he prodded experimentally. “Did we get the contract at least?”

Rita looked up when she had finished preening her feathers. “Okay so, it turns out that this wasn’t an exclusive contract.” She hopped up with a little flap and started walking.

Tap followed her example and heaved himself upright, the ache in his body severely diminished. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that we technically didn’t get hired, but we technically don’t need to, either.”

It clicked, and Tap’s eyes widened. “This is a fucking bounty gig, isn’t it?”

“Okay okay, so it’s not anything glamorous like what we usually do!” She looked over at him and shrugged. “But, we seriously need the money.”

Tap uttered a groaning sigh. “Fine, whatever. Where is she?”

“Last time any of them saw her, she was leaving the city in a lifeboat.”

He raised a brow. “Yeah. Great. But where is she?”

Rita immediately looked forward, putting on a grin that screamed nervous. “Theeeey don’t know.”

“What do you mean they don’t know?! How are we supposed to kill this bitch if—”

 “Hold it right there, mister!” She came to a dead stop, barring his path with her wings. “We are not killing her. If we bring her in dead, we might as well not bother doing this job at all.”

Tap pushed right through her plumage, undoing her recent preening. “I fucking hate you, Rita.”

“Anyway, she’s enormous!” she called after him, skipping back to his side. “How hard could it be to track her down? All we need are a few clues, and then we just need to make sure we’re a few steps ahead of everyone else. Once we find her, we drag her back to Stable Twenty-Nine and rake in the bits! Piece of cake!”

|[  7 ]|[o’o ]|[(  ) ]|

The search for clues brought them to the gutted Statue of Friendship. It was the torch bearing foreleg, of all things, that seemed to have been damaged the least in the Enclave’s attack. The rest of the city, however, had been thoroughly blasted. He could see a great deal of the interior from the bridge leading into the former settlement. Green struts of metal lingered in the open, stripped of their outer plating like exposed bones on a mutilated, rotting carcass. Friendship City had been abandoned, and all that remained were scavengers. A few shouts about lock picks reached his ears, and he could see several lights flickering in the darkened innards of the statue, occasionally obscured by a passing silhouette.

Rita slipped Tap’s pistol into its holster halfway across the bridge. Ahead of them, and at ground level, there was a crackling fire with a few ponies seated around it, eyeing Tap and Rita apprehensively as they approached. They had partially enclosed their fire pit with rubble and sheets of metal to shelter themselves from the strong sea winds. The salty breeze carried the smell of cooking fish.

“Howdy strangers!” Rita chirped.

“Place has been mostly cleaned out,” called a mare, slowly getting up from the group. “Are you buyin’ or sellin’?”

Paharita ambled right up the fire and nestled in, to their bewilderment. “I’m actually looking for information!” She gestured to Tap. “Me and my associate here—”

Bored already, Tap began to wander.

Scrap metal littered the grounds, discarded rubbish mingling with rubble from the ravaged statue looming over the area. He paused at a row of dirt mounds, noting a heap of bloodied sheets and a dirty shovel nearby. Someone had come through at some point to try and bury the dead. He could smell the decay as he continued to meander, and the occasional bits of equine debris caught his eye. Familiar sights caused him to reflect on his last visit to Friendship City. Those freshly dug graves had been a garden once, where he had impulsively stolen several tomatoes. A bench laid just a few paces away, partially crushed under a scorched slab of metal. He recalled seeing a mother teach her foal how to count there. Air that had been alive and full of chatter was now empty, save for the distant calls of gulls.

Suddenly, Double Tap was in Arbu again, watching his friends get cut down by a pony with the title of hero. He set himself down on the remains of the bench and sighed. Littlepip was out of reach, but he had been presented with a new name, even if he couldn’t associate it with a face. His understanding of the part Raspberry Tart had played in the downfall of this settlement was vague at best, but he was aware that she had been a key player in the Enclave’s attack. Though he felt the refugees of Friendship City were idiots for supporting Littlepip, he could at least sympathize with them as far as the loss of their friends and family, and the destruction of their home.

The chance to settle things personally was more important to him than the bounty, and this time, he would not let the opportunity slip away.

“How very selfish,” he heard her whisper. Lady Luck grinned beside him. “Am I to understand that the guilty will become judge, jury, and executioner?”

Tap shook his head, snorting. This cunt has it coming.

Her lips pursed. “A sense of morality is a caution-worthy creature. You’ve seen how righteousness cuts both ways.”

Somewhere overhead, he heard Rita call out to him. His ears swiveled as he looked around, eventually spotting her hovering just outside of one of Friendship City’s many, recently added exits. She swooped down and grinned as he met her gaze.

“Well! In exchange for opening a safe for them, they shared what they knew.”

Tap slipped off the bench. “And?”

Rita scratched the back of her other claw. “They don’t know anything we don’t, and they told me that Fatty-Fat’s loft has been looted pretty hardcore. But,” she raised a talon, “the average looter isn’t too bright, so I might have an ace up my sleeve.”

“Show me the way, I guess,” he murmured.

“There’s one other thing.” Tap looked her in the eyes, raising a brow, and she cleared her throat. “The Dynamic Duo is apparently up there right now.”

“Ah shit.” Tap kicked at the dirt, feeling a knot forming in his stomach. “Do they know we’re here? Can we come back later?” Rita shook her head and frowned. “Let’s go say ‘hey’, then.”

Ascending through the warped, metal walkways and leaking pipes of Friendship City brought them to a pair of battered double doors. “Fat piece of shit” and “I’ll see you at the gallows” were among the colorful obscenities scratched into the wood. There were still shavings clinging to and scattered around the frame, meaning that they were fairly fresh. He was in the process of examining them when one of the doors swung open, nearly bowling him over.

Suddenly, there was a painted bamboo tube in his face, colorful ribbons fluttering against his lips. A slate-blue unicorn held it from the other end, her cheeks puffed out, her cold, green eyes narrowed. Tap blinked first, and her expression lightened. She exhaled through her nose and the blowgun levitated away from her lips. A forehoof followed it, brushing a few short locks of her dark blue mane out of her heavily scarred face. Her hair was so greasy that it stayed exactly where she pushed it.

“Hiiiiii,” she hissed, smirking.

“Cobra Juicy!” Rita sang from behind him. “Good to see you again!” Almost hesitantly, she asked, “And where’s that rascal Dandelion?”

“Here I am!” A diminutive griffon squawked as he sprang up from behind a filing cabinet. “And I’ve got terrific news, Paharita! They put out a bounty on Raspberry Tart!”

“Yep!” Rita stepped into the room, leaving Tap with Cobra Juicy. “That’s why we’re here. Got any tasty tidbits you wanna share with me?”

Tap and Juicy exchanged stares for a long moment and then she leaned forward and kissed him on the horn. “I missed you.”

He swallowed, feeling a cold sweat prickling up along the back of his neck. “Uh-huh.”

“Every time I’ve come looking for you at Tenpony, they say you’re not around. Now, I don’t want to sound offended, but it almost feels like you’ve been avoiding me.” She pouted, but she may as well have been a weeping radigator.

“Dunno what gave you that idea.” He shrugged and looked away. “Rita and I have just been busy.”

She snorted and raised a brow. “I’ll bet.”

Juicy turned away and slowly cantered into the room. She was wearing a baggy, grimy, grey hoodie, like always, which she kept tight to her waist with a utility belt. The cobra design on the back of the hood seemed to wink with every step she took. Where she wasn’t clothed, the chemical burns marring her hide almost resembled some kind of pattern, and her cutie marks had been burned clean off on both sides. She had told him this scarring was intentional, but he sincerely doubted it. Her greasy, ratty tail flicked over her exposed rump in what he assumed was supposed to be an alluring fashion, considering that every few paces she would leer back at him.

The urge to plow her was effectively subdued by the fact that she may well have been a villainess out of a pre-war comic book.

Tap clenched his jaw and followed, trying to suppress his goose bumps. “So what have you and Lion been up to?”

“Do-gooding,” she droned, rolling her eyes. “There isn’t even a blurred line anymore.” She turned and dropped onto a torn up couch, then started jabbing and waving her hoof around. “It’s all black and white, right and wrong, good and evil. I’m pretty sure most of the ponies we’ve been running errands for actually needed our help.” She shrugged, sighing. “But, if doing the right thing pays well enough, I guess I can’t complain.”

She paused for a moment, squinting up at Tap. “Also, I heard about what happened to your friends at Arbu. Total bummer.”

A wrinkle formed along Tap’s muzzle, lips pulling back into a snarl, but Juicy held up a hoof.

“I meant that sincerely. The ponies of Arbu were a good lot.” She licked her lips. “Excellent cooks, too. They will be missed.”

“Thanks.” He began to sit beside her, but felt a sharp pain in his left haunch. Shooting up, he whipped around and glared. “If you poisoned me again—”

Juicy doubled over with laughter. “Oh please! You sat on a spring!” She reached over and plucked it out, spitting it at his hooves. “You know I’ll ask first.” She looked away, smirking. “Usually.”

A fresh wave of revulsion swept over him, bringing bad memories with it. He stomped a hoof. “That’s not funny!”

“Ohhh, don’t be a pussy. You liked it.” She leaned against the arm of the couch as Tap scowled, propping her head up with one foreleg. “Look, I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you, so let me give you some advice.” She gestured with her other forehoof. “You see that little feathery cunt over there?”

Tap glanced over to the opposite side of the room, where Rita was practically hiding behind a smashed up desk as Lion gestured wildly from the other side.

Dandelion wasn’t much bigger than she was, though he certainly looked a lot cleaner. The feathers of his face practically sparkled white, and the tuft of his tail was neatly trimmed. There were no patterns dyed around his bright, yellow eyes, but the tips of his combed plumage shown a faded purple. A thick leather collar hung around his neck, d-ring jingling as he waved and bobbed and shouted excitedly. His kevlar vest had only a trace of dust on it, and the navy-blue suit coat he wore under that was ironed and wrinkle-free. The pipbuck adorning his left forearm fit his wrist snugly, and it also looked to be in much better condition than Rita’s.

Tap spent a moment longer watching them, then chuckled and asked, “Which one?”

Juicy took a deep breath. “I’m just gonna come right out and say it; that dumb bitch is going to get you killed. I’m sure you’ve seen how times are changing.” She gestured toward him, a serious look on her face. “Ponies like you and me? We need to blend in and lay low if we want to survive. Now, I have Dandelion. He’s a goodie four-shoes, sure, but he’s in good with the Justifiers and Gawdyna’s Talons and the Steel Rangers of Fillydelphia. We’re always going to have work, and as long as we’re working for the winning side, we’re going to be ahead of the eight-ball.”

He stood in silence for a moment, studying her as he processed what she had said. “So what’s your point?”

“I can’t see her begging the Enclave for odd jobs any time soon, so who’s backing her? Red Eye? Raspberry Tart? Who does she have left to turn to?” Juicy leaned back in her seat, looking him over with contempt. “I’m not gonna pretend that there’s no use for assassins anymore, but she has a reputation for riding the line between warring factions, and that’s something ponies are starting to pay attention to. Sooner or later, that shit is gonna catch up with her, and you better not be in the crosshairs when it does.”

“I asked what your fucking point was, grease-ball.” He blew a few strands of his mane out of his face without breaking eye contact. “So far all you’ve done is jerk yourself off.”

A dry laugh crowed in her throat. She levitated a single dart out of a pouch on her belt, turning it end over end in her telekinetic grasp. “My point… is that you should work for me. I’d say that she can come too, but I don’t think she’d be interested.”

“I may hate her,” he looked over at Rita, who noticed his wayward gaze and huffed with distress. His eyes snapped back to the sleazy mare seated before him. “But I trust you even less.”

Leaning forward, Juicy smiled and sighed. “That’s okay. I’m patient.” The dart landed point down between her hooves and Tap’s. “You make me wait too long, though, and I’m gonna punish you.”

Cobra Juicy licked her lips, giggling, and then whistled sharply. Dandelion was at her side in a heartbeat, smiling brightly and swaying his tail. She was grinning, staring Tap dead in the eyes as she commanded, “Say goodbye to Paharita.”

“Goodbye, Paharita!” Dandelion shouted, waving so intensely that his whole body shook.

The two of them slowly made their way to the door. Just before stepping out, Juicy droned, “And good luck finding Raspberry Tart.”

The door slammed, and Rita fluttered back over to Tap. “Idiots! There’s at least like, five different hidden compartments in this room that haven’t been opened!” He looked over at her, tilting his head, and she shrugged. “Well, there were six, but that desk is totally trashed. How was your chat with Snake Jizz?”

“Awful.” He stuck out his tongue and glanced away.

“Yuck, mine too. All that lunkhead wants to do is get me between the sheets and knock me up.” She shook her head and stuck out her tongue as well. “I don’t want anything to do with his barbed baby-maker. He can go pee up a rope.”

He snickered. “Did Lion know anything we don’t?”

 

“Supposedly, he heard through the grapevine that Fatso was spotted on the shoreline south of Manehattan the day of the Enclave’s big fireworks display. I know it’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.” She cringed. “I had to let him kiss me on the beak to get that, by the way.” A little shiver ran through her, feathers ruffling.

 

“You poor cock-tease,” he chided through pursed lips, feigning sympathy.

 

She upturned her beak. “You’re welcome.”

 

“You think maybe he was bullshitting?”

 

Shrugging, Rita replied, “Maybe. But if he knows more than that, and I doubt it, he didn’t say. Even if it’s bogus, that’s as good a place to start looking as any.” She swept a claw over the room. “So yeah, let’s get to work.”

Tap nodded and followed her. Raspberry Tart’s loft had probably looked very nice at one point. It was very spacious, and there were big, open windows. Scattered around the room were smashed up picture frames and shreds of canvas, along with broken porcelain. Whoever had come through first had clearly just wanted to vandalize the place, but after the initial wave of desecration, anyone that passed through had been much more sensible. There wasn’t anything of value to be found, bit, gem, or otherwise.

Rita paused over a spot in the floor, pounded twice, then tapped with her claw. A tiny hatch swung open, revealing a stash of drugs. She glanced back at him and waggled her brows, waiting patiently for him to scoop up their findings. There was another, similar holdout not too far from that, but it had already been mostly cleaned out. Frowning, she led him to the torched remains of a lounge bed behind the busted desk, then studied the closest wall.

He squinted and craned his head over Rita’s back, trying to see what she could see. “How do you know where these things are?”

“Because I was planning on having you rob her blind eventually, so I’ve been casing this place ever since the first time I was in here. Fatty-Fats is a huge history buff, like me, so she had a lot of valuable artifacts decorating the place.” Rita idly waved a claw toward one of the ruined portraits. “Some ponies clearly aren’t as appreciative of that sort of thing as I am. But, if I know her like I think I do, she has the really good stuff locked away.”

Her tail flicked as she leaned a little closer to the wall. “And some of these hiding spots, she wasn’t so secretive about. I’ve seen her fish contract details and payments out of them.”

“And the others?”

She giggled. “Call it a woman’s intuition.”

One of the recently acquired dash inhalers levitated to his lips around the same time that Rita gasped softly. His vision sharpened so acutely that he could see the near-invisible seam lines in the wall that she was reaching for. This time, she slid her talon down along the thread’s-width of a gap, and was rewarded with a soft click. The panel opened just a hair, which was enough for her to pull it the rest of the way. Stashed inside were a riding crop, a bit, reins, and a saddle. Tap felt a stirring between his hind legs.

“Wow,” Rita uttered.

Tap chuckled. “I guess you’re not the only one that likes getting rode around.”

She reached in, holding up the saddle and the reins for him. “You’re joking, right? There’s no way these would fit her.” The griffon pulled a waded up duffel bag out of her flak jacket, shook it out, and then stuffed the bondage gear inside. “Yoink!”

The next hidden compartment was located on the opposite end of the room, and yielded nothing more than photographs. Tap spent a moment studying them as Rita began her search for the supposed fifth and final stash.

After finally getting a glimpse of Raspberry Tart, the fat jokes made a lot more sense, and she only seemed to get larger as he flipped through the stack. Despite her size, every image of her practically oozed confidence and charisma. The very last picture was different. It had been taken on the torch of the statue, looking out over the bay with the ruins of Manehattan sprawling in the distance. There was something very gentle about Raspberry’s expression. A comparatively tiny mare stood, smiling, beside her.

Something else about the smaller mare caught Tap’s eye. Is that a pegasus? He levitated the picture closer.

“Knock-Knock!” she called from behind him. “Anyone home?”

His ears folded back. He tossed the pictures back into the compartment and flicked it closed. “I’m not in the mood for any shit right now, Rita.”

“Sure, whatever, but I need your help.”

Rita was standing by the wrecked desk again, but this time, she looked like she was trying to push it. Without a word of warning, Tap focused his magic and gave it a telekinetic shove, sending it sailing past her and crashing against the rear wall. She looked between him and the desk several times, ruffling her feathers and glowering, but whatever scolding she was going to give was put on hold. Her attention had centered solely on the splintered desk.

“Oooooh my gooodnessss!” she cried, hopping over to the wreckage.

Tap didn’t bother asking what had caught her eye, knowing that she would tell him in moments. Sure enough, she reared up from the splinters with something clutched in each claw.

“Socks?” He could see some sort of insignia on the both of them; a trio of blue diamonds.

“Not just any socks!” Rita was hopping toward him on her hind legs, wings fluttering so fast that she was practically hovering. “These are genuine Ministry Mare articles! They belonged to Rarity, head of the Ministry of Image!”

He scratched the back of one forehoof with the other. “They’re fucking socks. How can you tell?” Rita took a deep breath, thrusting them in his face, and Tap took preventative measures. “Okay, I don’t actually fucking care. If you say they belonged to what’s her face, then I’ll take your word for it.” Something acrid hit his nose a moment later. “Ugh. Get that shit out of my face, they smell like a sweat-rag.”

“Well that’s probably because Fatty-Fats has been wearing them.” Rita held them even closer. “Look, they’re all stretched out!”

Tap tried to push the socks away, but she went right back to dangling them over his nose. “You can wash the smell out, at least.”

Finally, Rita lowered them, gazing down at her raunchy prize. “Oh, you’re so silly. I would  never wash these!” She lifted them up and started rubbing them against her cheeks. “Two hundred years ago, Rarity was wearing them, and I don’t want to ruin her essence!”

“Paharita, you’re fucking gross.” He looked down at the floor and noticed a square depression where the desk had been. Curiosity got the better of him and he took a few steps closer. “Is that the uh—”

Rita skipped past him, skidding to a stop and plopping down on the other side of it. “It is! That’s why I needed you to move the desk.” She reached in and pried out a square section of the floor, revealing what looked like the face of a floor safe. The grin plastered around her beak slowly faded. “There’s no lock to pick.” She looked up at him, glaring. “There’s no combination dial either! What is this crap?!”

Casually, Tap approached for a closer look. The face of the safe was completely flat, and the door laid so snugly in its frame that there was no visible seam. There was, however, the image of a hoof-print set in the very center, with three tiny, parallel LED strips above it.

“Is it electronic or something?” he asked, squinting.

“I dunno! Maybe?” She leaned to the left and the right, still scowling. “But I can’t see any ports into the stupid thing, so I can’t hack it!” Rita balled up her claw and thumped on the door. “Thanks a lot, Tubbo!”

The image of the hoof-print held his attention. After studying it for a bit longer, he reached out and covered it with his own hoof. The three lights flashed yellow, and then glowed a solid red. His ears perked as he looked back up at his feathery companion. She blinked, looking back and forth between his eyes and his hoof, then held up her claws to him.

“Fan-freakin’-tastic!” She gestured to his hoof, frowning. “But we would need her hoof, probably!”

Tap tilted his head and raised a brow. “We could cut it off.”

Rita threw her claws in the air. “What if she needs to be alive, though? Mad science can only do so much when it comes to these kinds of things!”

Sighing and shrugging, Tap withdrew his hoof, and the lights went dark. “So this was a huge fucking waste of time, basically.”

She shook her head vigorously. “Not even close! I got these socks, so it was totally worth it!”

“We barely have a single clue, though. How are we gonna track her down?”

“Just gotta ask around! Somepony has to have seen her waddling through.” Rita snickered and added, “Leave the talking to me though, okay?”

|[o’o ]|[ /_\ ]|[(  ) ]|

“And you said the trip to Friendship City was a waste of time!”

Double Tap stared dully back at Paharita. “I’m asking for five fucking minutes to visit Skimmer’s grave. Just shut the fuck up and let me have this.”

Arbu was as desolate as he had left it, made to seem even more eerie by the sun hanging low on the horizon. All around him were deep, long shadows.

While he made his way to the burnt out ruins of Skimmer’s house, he found his mind wandering back to the day she and her family had been taken away from him. His resentment for Littlepip burned hot as ever, but he began to compare what she had done to Raspberry Tart’s involvement in the destruction of Friendship City. The Enclave was responsible for the death and destruction, whereas Raspberry Tart had only been the catalyst. For a reason he didn’t comprehend, they considered her betrayal to be even worse than the swath of carnage left in the wake of Littlepip’s heroism.

Even if the thought of it made him sick, he could understand that Littlepip had been forgiven her atrocities at Arbu because the ponies she had slaughtered were cannibals. Most outsiders didn’t know them, so it would be easy to label them as monsters and write them off. But now everyone was singing her praises for killing Red Eye and opening the sky, even though she had essentially sparked a war between the Enclave and the remains of Equestria in the process. Everything Littlepip had done seemed to carry some sort of horrible weight to it, and he felt as though he were the only one to recognize this. Worse still, he had been in the position to assassinate her and prevent it all.

The forced transformation of the post-war world he knew was a direct result of his failure.

Tap’s eyes widened with his realization, a chill running through him. It hit him even harder than the beating he had received hours earlier.

He was just a few paces from the rubble of Skimmer’s home when he noticed movement inside; a tall, bipedal figure lumbering out into the open. It was the faded white letters spelling out “MARIPONY M.P.” that he noted before anything else. A reddish-brown hellhound wearing a kevlar vest emerged from the shadows, her fangs bared and her intensely blue eyes squinted. Tap gritted his teeth as he backpedaled. Somewhere in the distance, Paharita shrieked. He glanced back just in time to see her frantically trying to get airborne, hopping twice before finally getting off the ground.

“Wait,” he shouted, briefly putting his eyes back on the hound. “I need the fucking Punchline you cloacae-plunging slut!” A second glance revealed that Rita was already a shrinking speck in the distance. “Damn it.”

The hellhound swaggered forward, taking her sweet time striding through the rubble. He could hear her growling all the while, her claws scraping as they cleaved through whatever happened to get caught under them. The odds were most assuredly not in his favor.

A chill of dread ran down his spine as he turned away, yanking a dash inhaler out of his bandoleer and chomping down on the mouthpiece. The narcotics hissed into his lungs and the world slowed down just for him. His hooves thundered against the ashen earth, the acceleration blurring the edges of his vision, but he could see the terrain in front of him with razor sharp clarity. All the while, there was dull, dry crumbling sound that steadily caught up to him. The soil loosened under his hooves. He lunged forward, feeling her claws comb through his tail, hearing her snarling in his wake.

The sound of digging reached his ears once more. This time she passed him, and the ground shifted and sank just a few paces ahead. He turned, all four hooves digging into the dirt as he tried to stop. Massive paws erupted from the earth and slashed at the air, missing him by inches. He leapt around the sinkhole and stepped back into a gallop, but she was already burrowing again.

For the second time, she passed him, but this time she kept going. The hellhound emerged well ahead of him, crouched and ready to charge. He changed course in a wide arc, galloping toward Arbu. Only moments later, as he stood before the burnt-out shell of Glade Skimmer’s home, did he realize that she had just corralled him.

At a glacial pace, the hellhound advanced. She dragged the claws of one paw through the claws of the other, sharpening them, and then she paused. Her eyes closed and her muzzle tilted skyward, hanging just slightly open. A long, eerie howl filled the air.

Escape was not an option. He didn’t have armor piercers loaded, but standard rounds were better than nothing. Slowly, he un-holstered the forty-five and widened his stance. She picked up the pace and came lumbering toward him, but Tap stayed still as a statue. He took a deep breath and prepared to unload when he was just outside her reach.

The moment came. He ducked under a whistling swing, sidestepping and squeezing off a full magazine at just about point blank.

Every single bullet crumpled harmlessly against her vest and her tough hide, falling away like wads of paper. Her momentum carried her a few steps further, and then she yelped and spun wildly, clutching her chest and her stomach. It was clear that he hadn’t so much as left a scratch, but she continued to groan and sway anyway. It quickly dawned on him that he was being mocked.

Tap snorted and reached around himself with his telekinesis, but there were no spare magazines to be found. He hadn’t bothered reclaiming his spare ammunition from Rita. He had no bullets, but his knives had never left their hiding places.

The hellhound’s dramatic performance came to an end as she staggered forward and shook herself off. On her second attempt as mauling him, Tap cast a flash spell right in her eyes and jumped clean over her as she doubled over. He started pelting her with knives before he had even reached the ground. Some of them stuck in her back, but most of them bounced away and landed point down in the dust. Again, she began to cry out, reaching back and brushing several of the knives out of herself with a lazy sweep of her claws.

A wave of nausea crept over Tap as he watched her shrug off, and then lampoon another legitimate attempt at wounding her. He inhaled through his nose to try and calm himself, and noticed a very familiar smell filling hitting his nostrils. Downwind of her, he could clearly tell that she stank of whiskey. Moments later, she went back to charging, but Tap held his ground, watching her more closely. She was practically stumbling. When started to growl again, she interrupted herself with a wet belch. Her swipes were slow and clumsy, easy to dodge, and each swing nearly sent her tumbling. It had become readily apparent that she was very drunk. He sidestepped her awkward attacks, trying to piece together some kind of plan.

With the speed of cooling wax, she started to turn to face him again, hiccupping in the process. He kept circling, trying to close in behind her, but she tripped over her own leg and swung around. Everything blurred as she battered him with the back of her oversized paw and sent him sprawling into the soot.

Tap frantically tried to get back to his hooves as he shook the stars out of his eyes. He could hear her coming closer, see her long shadow draping over him as she loomed just a few paces away. Visions of her tearing him apart and picking his bones clean flashed in his mind, his remains discarded amongst the ashes of his friends. A spark of rage radiated in the depths of his soul.

Glaring up at her as she towered over him, he snarled, “I will not die here you motherfucker!”

With all the strength he could muster, he lunged, putting every ounce of force behind his hoof and connecting with her nose. Her head turned, she staggered back, and for several seconds, she stood there, swaying. She lifted a paw to her nose as though just realizing she had been punched, and then she toppled over onto her back, whining and squirming. Tap’s jaw hung slack as he watched. After a full minute of listening to her whimper and watching her roll around on the ground, she went completely still. He could plainly see that she was still breathing, and stared in disbelief.

“Okay,” she finally muttered. “I done. Pony can kill me now.”

On cue, Rita landed on a blackened stretch of rooftop, peering down at the situation, while Tap lifted a hoof to the side of his neck. He glanced up at her, then back at the laid out hellhound in front of him.

“What the fuck.”

|[(  ) ]|[BAR]|[BAR]|

Chapter 9 - Job Hunting

Chapter Nine – Job Hunting

|[o’o ]|[(  ) ]|[o8- ]|

“I say pony can kill me now,” mumbled the hellhound, still spread eagle in the ashes of Arbu.

There was something oddly familiar about the mutant diamond dog, but Double Tap couldn’t put his hoof on it. Part of him felt as though he had misheard her, despite hearing her repeat herself. A much larger part felt as though this were some kind of trick to lure him in close for an easy meal. It was possible that she was just lazy, but even drunk; a hellhound was still to be considered a vicious killing machine. He struggled to find the words to convey his confusion and reluctance.

The best he could come up with was, “Why?”

The hellhound groaned and hiccupped, one paw lifting to the side of her head, idly rubbing. “I fight with honor, and pony beat me.” She peered up at him out of one eye. “You kill me or not?”

“You heard the monster,” Paharita called from the rooftops. The sun was low enough that it hung directly behind her, and even with sunglasses on, he could only make out her silhouette against the glaring light. “Get on with it!”

His horn glowed as he hefted up the empty forty-five and waved it at Rita. “I can’t kill her with this gun, jackass!”

Magic crackled along the fissure in his horn. The levitation field popped, sending the gun hurtling toward the griffon. It struck her in the chest, and she tumbled back with a squawk. Empty or not, now he had no guns at all.

“Shit.” Tap looked down at the hellhound again and took a deep breath. “Okay, look, this has already been a really fucking weird day. I’ve got a lot of shit on my mind as it is, so if you’re not gonna try to use my spine as a chew toy or what-the-fuck-ever, I’m just gonna go.”

He turned and made it three steps before he heard sniffling. “Oh no,” he muttered.

She was sitting up and sobbing hysterically by the time he turned to look back at her, her face buried in her massive paws. No, no, no, no, no. He fought to turn his head and keep walking, but found himself rooted to the spot. I don’t need this shit. I don’t want this shit.

“Please!” she wailed. “Please! You have to kill me, pony!”

Tap sighed, circled around, and stomped up to her side. “This has already been a really fucking weird day, so I guess a little more weird shit on top of that isn’t gonna make much of a difference.” He settled roughly on his rump, adding, “And if you really wanted to kill me, you’d probably be gnawing on me by now, so… you wanna hug it out or—”

“Not fair,” she whimpered, her whole body shaking. “Not fair! Pony supposed to kill me!” She tucked her knees into her chest and wrapped her arms around them, curling up. “Not supposed to be like this.”

“Yeah,” he droned, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He looked around, chewing the inside of his mouth. “What the hell is a bone-chewer like you doing all the way out here, anyway?”

“I was tracking you, pony,” she said simply, pointing one claw toward him. “Pony and griffon, but mostly pony. Track you far from home, away from valley. So much fun to chase! I follow you for days, even in rain. I only catch up one time, though.”

A chill ran down Tap’s spine. “Oh.” He looked the hellhound over, taking new stock of her now that he remembered her from their previous encounters. “That was you in the computer shop.”

She grunted out a chuckle. “It was! I try so hard to keep up, but you so quick and sneaky, pony!” A little smile broke over her toothy maw, but faded as another sniffle worked its way out of her. “I follow your scent all the way here, but this where trail break.” She frowned, looking down at her paws. “I think maybe you die here, pony, and that make me sad.”

He nodded. “I kinda… I was out of commission for a while.” His hoof ran impulsively ran along his chest, nudging the toothy necklace under his clothes. “I almost died here.”

The hellhound scowled. “No fair. You my hunt, pony.” She sighed, wiping her eyes with the back of her paw. “So many bodies here… I sniff and search and none of them yours. That give me hope, but not sure what to do. Maybe pick up trail again?” She shrugged. “Waste days searching. Never find it.”

“Why didn’t you just go home?”

She started to speak, but her words faded into a whimper. “W-when I start to think maybe I should be going home, there was bright flash in distance. I… I just—” She buried her face in her paws again, heaving and sobbing. “I not even need to be there! I just know.” He could see her eyes through the gaps between her claws, wide and red and wet with tears. “I hurry home as fast as I can, and when I get there… home gone. Pack gone!” Her eyes vanished behind her paws. “Nothing left but deep hole.”

“A megaspell,” he murmured.

“I know ponies do this.” She balled her paws as much as her claws would allow, shaking. “It always ponies! Ponies are monsters! They kill, kill, kill. Not enough to kill each other, they kill everything else!”

At a loss for words, Tap cautiously lifted a hoof to her back, gently patting. He withdrew his hoof as he felt her fur bristle. “Yeah, uh… ponies are pretty shitty.” He looked around again. “But why did you come back here?”

“I come here because this last place I track you, pony. When I get here second time, I smell fresh trail, so I wait and hope maybe pony return again.” She took a deep, wet breath through her nose, turning her head just enough to look at him out of the corner of one eye. “And when pony return, I fight pony until pony kill me, so that I join my pack with honor.”

A frown tugged at the corners of his lips. “Okay… so you’ve got a death wish? What do I have to do with that?”

“It has to be you, pony,” she said quietly.

Tap shook his head. “Yeah, no, I’m sure there are lots of ponies that wouldn’t think twice about blowing your brains out.”

“I fight many ponies, since I was pup. You different. You only pony that ever escape me so long.” She began to smile again, through the tears. “You only pony that challenge me. Never not fun to chase.”

“Thanks,” he said with an air of uncertainty, flashing a halfhearted smile. “So you’ve just been waiting here for me… to put you out of your misery?”

The hellhound nodded. “Want to die hunting you.” She closed her eyes and tilted her muzzle skyward. “Want to die doing what make me happy.”

There was a loud thud, which startled the both of them. Only Tap had leapt away, however. A moment later, he noticed the Punchline lying in a cloud of settling dust. Glancing upward, he could faintly see the grin Rita had plastered around her beak, nodding and giving him a thumbs-up. Tap sneered as he collected the weapon. He looked to the hellhound, and saw that her eyes were wide, her paws clutching the sides of her head.

“You alright?”

“I fine.” She exhaled and let her paws drop. “Thought maybe you pull trigger, pony. Startle me.”

He levitated the Punchline and flipped it open, noting that it was loaded, then flicked it closed with a click. “That’s what you want me to do, though, right?”

“Dogs supposed to die with honor,” the hellhound explained as he rejoined her. “Dogs are brave hunters. We not fear death.” She nodded, then looked down at the ground. “I little scared, though. I know pack waiting for me, but death is one-way trail. Scary to think about, you know?”

It was his turn to nod. “That’s why you got hammered.” She looked up at him and tilted her head, and Tap waved a hoof. “Drunk. That’s why you got drunk.”

She sighed deeply. “Yes. So I not think about it. But now I think and talk about it with pony that supposed to kill me.”

“Yeeeaaah.” Tap looked away. “I was ready to do it out of self defense, but I’m kinda getting cold hooves now that we’re talking and you’re not trying to claw me to death.”

“We don’t have all day!” Rita loudly whined. “Quit being such a wuss!”

“Want me to fight more?” The hellhound bared her teeth and growled, then interrupted herself with another hiccup.

Tap’s ears splayed as he leaned away from her. “Now hold the fuck on.” He shuffled his hooves as he tried to think of an excuse. “This is what I do for a living, right? I’m not just gonna shoot you dead for free.” She stopped growling and tilted her head. He continued. “You have to pay me, and I doubt that you’ve got any bottle caps.”

The hellhound shook her head. “What’s bottle caps?”

“Oh! My! Gosh!” Rita yelled. “Are you really trying to be economical about this? Who cares! Just friggin’ shoot her!”

Ignoring Rita entirely, he nodded to the hellhound. “That’s what I thought. So look, I’m not trying to say that you wasted your time tracking me all the way to Arbu, but—” An idea flickered to life in his mind. He lifted a hoof and pointed at her. “How did you follow me this far from Splendid Valley?”

Her face lit up with a bright smile. “I know how you smell, pony! Was a little tricky, you wash a lot. Not stinky like most ponies.” She chuckled and added, “Griffon extra stinky, though. That helped.”

An indignant huff reached his ears. He flashed a smug grin up at Paharita, and she shouted, “It’s not like we have stuff to do! Any time you wanna kill that thing is fine by me!”

“Actually, I’ve got a better idea!” Tap turned his gaze back toward the hellhound. “I’m not really feeling up to killing you in cold blood right now, but how about this; you help me—” He gestured toward himself, and then toward the rooftop Rita had perched on. “And that feathery fuck up there—track down this pony that we’re looking for, and then I’ll fight and kill you.”

“What,” Rita barked from above. “Absolutely not!”

The hellhound glanced up at Rita, cocking an ear.

He snorted and murmured, “Ignore that cunt,” then he gestured to her, asking, “I mean, what else are you gonna do? Mope around here and wait for me to come back?” He shrugged. “We don’t even know where this pony is, so who knows when that might be. You might as well help us out.”

She lifted a claw to her chin, squinting as she studied Tap. “Okay, pony,” she said after almost a minute of silence. “We have deal.”

“Fantastic.” He squinted up at Rita, pointing. “Hey chicken-puss, we’re gonna need to see those socks!”

|[o’o ]|[o’o ]|[o’o ]|

For the third time, the hellhound circled an enormous mound of dried-out seaweed. She was crouching, practically on all fours, with her nose hovering no more than an inch above the sand as she sniffed and snorted. Double Tap frowned, watching her carry on as she had been for the last several minutes. The length of their shadows had grown considerably as the sun hung over distant hills.

At his side, Paharita murmured, “We passed seven different lifeboats.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And she’s more interested in some shriveled plants.”

Tap sighed. “What the fuck do you want from me, Rita?”

He wasn’t looking at her, but he could see her talon wiggling in the hellhound’s direction out of the corner of his eye. “I want you to get my socks back, and either kill her or tell her to get lost! This is pretty obviously a huge waste of time!”

“Do you have a better idea, egg-brain?” He glanced over at Rita, brow furrowed. “We don’t have any idea where to find Raspberry Tart, and this bitch can literally smell her way there if she can pick up the trail.”

“Or, and this is just a thought—” Rita balled her claws, shaking them up and down. “We can ask anypony if they’ve seen her!” She thrust a talon in the hellhound’s direction. “Or at least we could, if we didn’t have that thing leading us around! It’s kinda hard to ask for leads when everyone either runs away or pulls their weapons when they see us coming!”

Tap rolled his eyes. “Some of them were probably bandits. There’s all those prospectors hauling stuff out of the ruins of Friendship City, so there’s gonna be some sleazy motherfuckers hanging around.”

Rita puffed out her cheeks. “So you shoot ‘em! Don’t be a sissy!”

“You’re a sissy, you little bird-shit.” He stepped away with a snort and a flick of his tail, slowly and cautiously approaching the hellhound. Rita shouted something, but did not follow. “Yeah whatever, have fun standing over there by yourself!”

The hellhound slowly stood upright, paws against her lower back as she thrust her pelvis and belly forward. “Griffon afraid of me, pony?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, “she acts real fucking tough but she’s kind of a scaredy-cat.”

“But not you.” The hellhound gave him a sideways glance, grinning a toothily. “You brave, walking up to big, scary dog all alone.”

Her grin made him a little uncomfortable, but he snickered and shrugged. “Yeah, well, you know.” He gestured toward the seaweed. “So… what’s with this shit?”

“Help me move it, pony,” she said as she stuck her claws into the salty tangles.

A brow was arched, and his lips twisted with confusion, but he sighed, shrugged, and his horn began to glow. He ended up doing the bulk of the work, but that became irrelevant the instant he noticed the small boat that the seaweed had been concealing. Tap’s eyes widened and the hellhound put her paws on her hips, her smile positively radiant.

“Hold applause, pony.”

She reached into her vest and produced the socks. The socks dangled in her grasp as she lifted them to her nose, and then began to sniff. A few sniffs later, she knelt down and leaned closer to the boat, her nose wiggling as she inhaled in fits and starts. Then she went back and forth between the socks and the boat, until finally, with one long, deep snort, the socks adhered to her snout, remaining there even as she let go of them. Tap felt his stomach turn, trying to stifle his gag reflex.

“This sock-pony boat.” She pointed further down the shoreline, and then peeled the socks away from her nose. “I pick up trail from here.”

Tap grinned and nodded affirmatively. “Fuckin’ awesome.”

In the distance, Rita shouted, “Can I have my socks back now?”

The three of them set out without delay, making their way across the dunes as waves crashed against the shore. While Tap felt much more confident in his decision, Rita refused to decrease what she considered to be a safe distance from the hellhound.

All the while, the sun continued to descend toward the horizon. Tap removed his sunglasses as nightfall approached, and noticed that something strange and wonderful had begun to unfold. The sky had taken on a rosy hue, blending together with bands of orange and purple. High above, clouds soaked up the light of the setting sun, displaying a similarly vibrant and painted appearance to the point that they almost seemed to glow. The sun itself had gone from blindingly white to a more bearable red, like an enormous ember slowly sinking behind the mountains. There was something awe inspiring about it all, as though he were observing some sort of living painting.

He didn’t realize he had come to a stop until Paharita leaned into his field of view.

“A parasprite is gonna fly down your throat and eat you alive if you leave your mouth open like that.”

Tap pushed past her away and snorted. “I thought you were staying away from the dog.” He shot her a sideways glance. “Are you done being a pussy, you pussy?”

“You mean, am I done being safe? No, and she’s way over there, sniffing around.” Rita pointed, and he looked. The hellhound was carefully inspecting a disgusting toilet, club-tail wagging. “I guess she didn’t notice that you spaced out. Oops.”

“I notice,” she called, making Rita’s feathers ruffle and hair stand on end. The hellhound continued sniffing, but he saw that she had one ear turned toward them. “I just not bother pony. He admiring sundown.”

Rita snickered and prodded him with a talon. “Now who’s a pansy? What’s wrong, you’ve never seen a sunset before?”

He looked down at the dirt, avoiding her eyes. “Fuck off.”

“Awwwww! That’s soooo cute!” She leaned over and managed to pinch his cheeks. “I didn’t know you could be so sentimental!”

“Go fuck yourself!” Tap’s horn flared, and Rita was launched into the air with a squeal.

As Rita shouted childish insults and fluttered back to the ground in his wake, he pretended to have no interest in the brilliant display spread across the horizon. He kept his eyes forward as he approached the hellhound, who had found a cracked sink to investigate.

“Two ponies,” she murmured, glancing up at Tap when he came within a few paces of her.

Tap came to an abrupt stop, cocking an ear. “What?”

“I smell sock-pony.” She sniffled audibly, rubbing her nose with the back of her paw. “But I smell second pony, following sock-pony.”

“Damn,” he grunted, kicking at the dirt.  “Someone else might be tailing her already.” He chewed the corner of his mouth. “Let’s hope they don’t start the party without us.”

The hellhound raised a brow. “Party?”

He nodded. “Kinda. I’m thinking I’m gonna kill her when we catch up to her.” Shrugging, he added, “I have my reasons.”

“Oh.” The hellhound flashed a toothy grin, holding up her paws and kneading at the air. “I can eat sock-pony when party over?”

“Most of her.” Lifting a hoof, he tapped the side of his head. “Gotta bring back evidence that we did the job.”

The hellhound nodded and knelt over an opened, empty can, her nose twitching. Not long after that, Tap found himself idly drinking in the scenery once more. Rita’s distant cackling disturbed him moments later. He immediately heaved himself back to his hooves, scowling.

“It okay,” the hellhound said, motioning toward the setting sun with a nod of her head. “I think world ending, first time I see sundown. Never see nothing like it before.”

“I’ve seen the sun set through gaps in the clouds before this, just… I’ve never seen the whole picture all at once. It’s weird.” He looked off into the distance again, a trace of a smile on his lips. “Weird and kind of beautiful.”

The hellhound stood upright and joined him, tilting her head to one side, the pair of them lulled into a state of calm by the sounds of the ocean. Overhead, and on the opposite end of the sky, pinpricks of starlight began to show. Faintly visible points of light, twinkling against deep and seemingly endless blue that rolled in like a tide as the light of the sun continued to fade. He gazed into the heavens with the awe and wonder of a foal.

It was during this moment of peaceful admiration that he felt something warm under all the cold spite and bitter depression. He had lost everyone he loved and cared about, and the world he knew had been completely stripped away; that was something he would never and could never forgive or forget. But, if something so magnificent and breathtaking could emerge from the nightmare Littlepip had put him through, then maybe—just maybe—things would be okay.

Not good, not bad, but okay.

They stood in silence long enough to watch the last traces of the sun disappear behind the rolling landscape.

“Wish I see color,” the hellhound eventually muttered.

Tap snickered quietly, then cleared his throat and gestured toward her. “So what do I call you, anyway?”

The hellhound seemed troubled by Tap’s question. “Name momma give me not mean much now.” She put her paws on her hips, shifting her weight to her left leg. “What you want to call me?”

Double Tap attempted to play back his conversation with Rita regarding potential names for the very hellhound standing before him. Of the three names suggested, only one immediately came to mind.

“The Brutalizer?” he offered, shrugging.

“Nuh-uh!” she barked, shaking her head.

He blinked. “What?”

There was a toothy smirk on her lips. “Try again, pony. Less edgy.”

“Uh—” His brow furrowed as he struggled to remember. “Fuckles?”

“Is this joke to you, pony?” She had raised a brow and crossed her forearms.

He only managed a syllable more before Rita interrupted him, shouting, “Leaf Marine!” The hellhound looked past him, eyes wide and ears perked. “As Empress of the Wastes, I, Paharita, dub thee Leaf Marine!”

“Leaf Marine,” the hellhound repeated. “I like!” She smiled at Tap and nodded. “Call me Leaf Marine.”

Dumbfounded, Tap closed his eyes and slapped a hoof across his face. “You can’t be fucking serious.” He peered up at her with one eye. “Do yourself a favor and don’t listen to anything that cock-sucker says.”

She snickered and leaned toward him. “You not boss of me, pony.”

“You tell ‘em, Leaf Marine!” Rita yelled. “Don’t take any guff from that swine!”

|[BAR]|[(  ) ]|[(  ) ]|

“What’s up?” Double Tap asked, meeting Leaf’s gaze as she looked back at him.

A little more than two days had been spent following Leaf along a meandering trail composed of places Raspberry Tart had walked, eaten, slept, or relieved herself, and though it was slow going, quite a bit of distance had been covered. The urban skeleton of Manehattan had been left far behind, and even the sand and foam of the sea shore had disappeared beyond the horizon. Their query had abandoned the coastline, heading inland on what almost seemed to be a course for Fillydelphia.

“Hear that?” Leaf Marine stopped and pointed toward a dilapidated shed, and then the barn to the far left of it. “Armor ponies ahead.”

Their immediate surroundings had been farmland a couple centuries ago, now completely overgrown with sickly weeds and trees. They were, at most, an hour out from Fillydelphia at a leisurely trot. Some of the larger buildings were just barely visible behind the next ridge, obscured by a damp haze. Storm clouds had settled over the area. Though it had yet to rain, there was an occasional flash of lighting and a distant rumble of thunder.

“So what?” Paharita clucked as she strutted right past the pair of them.

Rita was still clinging to her reservations about their new canine companion, evidenced by things like passing on Tap’s side and not Leaf’s. But, the fact that she passed near Leaf at all was proof that her reluctance toward Leaf was gradually fading.

“Being near Fillydelphia means two things: Red Eye and the Steel Rangers.” She clicked at her PipBuck, glancing up at the two landmarks Leaf had indicated. “Since Red Eye is out of the picture, that means it’s definitely Steel Rangers, and we’ve done plenty of jobs for the Steel Rangers!” She paused and lifted a claw, waving it around in the direction of the barn. “If I say hi there, I bet you a hundred caps they’ll say oh, hello, Paharita! So good to see you again!”

“Sound good!” Leaf replied, nodding as she followed after Rita.

Tap leveled his brow and gave Leaf a disapproving glance, then hurried after the two of them. “Wait damn it! Are you both fucking stupid? Don’t just—”

“Not another step!” someone bellowed through a crackling speaker.

Rita flinched, trying to turn and run, but doing little more than stumbling on her bad hind and falling over onto her side. Three black figures darted over the roof of the nearby barn with startling speed. They silently cut through the air and spread out, kicking up dirt as they came to a dead stop. The three of them stood in a wide circle—surrounding Tap and his traveling companions—with their wings unfolded, their weapons at the ready, and their heads raised proudly, or arrogantly, or both.

Tap had never seen an Enclave soldier in action before, but there had been enough of their armored corpses littering Manehattan and the surrounding area that he recognized them without much difficulty.  He could clearly see the finer details of their armor now that they were at a standstill; the jet black plating that reflected light like the carapace of an insect, with barbed tails and wide, bug-like lenses set into their helmets. It was as though someone had decided to make a pegasus wear a scorpion, and these ponies were the end result.

Leaf immediately began to growl, baring her teeth while widening her stance and fanning out her claws.

“Leaf Marine, stay cool,” Tap muttered through clenched teeth. A drop of rain splashed against the ridge of his muzzle. “Fucking great.”

“Well well, what ‘ave we ‘ere?” inquired the pegasus closest to Leaf, with a male cockney so thick that Tap’s ears pinned back against his mane.

The soldier standing over Rita—who had curled into a shivering ball of fur and feathers—answered just as haughtily. “A Talon without ‘er flock, a stray dog, an’ a mud-icorn!” Her voice was somehow even more annoying.

The soldier to the left of Tap added nothing, and he instead began to laugh, with the other two joining in. They kept their plasma barrels locked and crackling all the while. It was becoming readily apparent that this was a shakedown. The soft patter of raindrops began to pick up.

“Alright you lot,” said the first, “no sudden movements, no magic, no nonsense.” He lifted his shiny hoof, pointing at Leaf. “We’ll be takin’ that pooch an’ givin’ ‘er a nice, new ‘ome.”

“I’ve got the one on the left,” Tap whispered, so quietly that he was sure only Leaf could hear him. She glanced back at him and nodded. “Wait for my signal.”

Even without Rita running the numbers, he figured the odds were about even. Leaf could probably take a hit from a plasma weapon, but he and Rita were not nearly as durable. Both sides were likely to suffer casualties. A crack of thunder split the air, and rain began to fall in sheets. His mind filled with scenarios. None of the outcomes were acceptable. Only moments later, the situation changed dramatically

There was a loud, metallic groan and all of the pegasi went completely still. Tap whipped his head around to see what had halted them. Several Steel Rangers had emerged from beneath the metal roofing of the collapsed shed. They had their grenade machineguns and heavy assault rifles pointed at the Enclave soldiers, and by extension, Double Tap, Leaf Marine, and Paharita.

The Enclave soldiers turned to face the Steel Rangers and in seconds, both sides erupted into shouting, each demanding that the other stand down and surrender. Two more pegasi popped over the roof of the barn, belting out their threats and demands from a distance.

“We’re in the middle of a shit sandwich,” Tap flatly stated, looking over at Leaf. “I hope you don’t mind dying here.”

Leaf’s brow twitched, framing her exposed teeth with a frown. “Still not made up mind about dying!”

A dash inhaler levitated to his lips and he filled his lungs with aerosol amphetamines. Everything slowed to a nice, comfortable crawl. Each splash of rainwater stood out on its own, becoming a rapid and frantic tempo. The quiet one, which Tap had initially marked as his target, was stepping around to put Tap between himself and the Steel Rangers. The possible leader of the three began to flap his wings, intent on ascending.

Tap shifted his weight, leaning forward and slipping the Punchline out from under the strap of his bandoleer, swinging it around until the barrel had lined up with the closest soldier’s left lens. Tap doubted that the pegasus even had the time to close his eyes. The lens shattered as Tap pulled the trigger, punching an enormous, gushing hole through his head and out the other side of his helmet. In that same instant, the Punchline went flying in the opposite direction, launched by the kickback. To his right, Leaf had crouched low to the ground, her body rigid with tension, her claws hooked inward and ready to slash.

The closest Enclave soldier was now the mare of the initial three. She was definitely still shouting, her every syllable drawn out unintelligibly under a distorted crack of thunder. Her feathers shuddered as she beat her wings against the air. Several rounds just barely missed her as the Steel Rangers opened fire. The Enclave soldiers returned fire, a bolt of sizzling plasma zipping past Tap and toward the Steel Rangers. A grenade machinegun round whistled by in the following instant, blowing a hole in the second floor of the barn. Tap threw himself into a gallop, hooves pounding against the dry grass. The forty-five had been loaded with armor piercers, but he was unsure of the forty-five’s penetrating power against such a heavily armored target.

A new variable was introduced to the encounter just a few steps into Tap’s charge. An awful sound; a static like talons against a chalkboard, blood-curdling screaming, and high frequency buzzing all rolled into one. Even with dash in his system, he could hear it clearly screeching through every armored combatant’s speaker. A red haze welled up around the edges of his vision, his pistol dropping right back into its holster as a searing pain wrapped around his horn. He struggled to keep advancing, dragging his hooves through the dirt and grass.

Over the static, he heard someone slowly and distortedly scream, “They won’t turn off!”

The Enclave soldiers winced, those attempting to get airborne dropping out of the air, the ones on the roof tossing their heads and stomping. The Steel Rangers were doing exactly the same, frantically trying to shed their helmets. At a glance, Tap saw that Leaf had been completely halted as well, with deep wrinkles etched into her face and muzzle, her paws clasped over her ears as she doubled over. Her target put on a similar display, thrashing violently on the ground until he finally managed to wrench his head free of his helmet. The screeching static faded only after all soldiers present had similarly abandoned their helmets or collapsed outright. The pain faded with it.

Looking forward once more, now just a few paces from the Enclave mare, he could see the blood rolling from her eyes and ears as she threw her helmet aside, her face contorted with agony. A moment of recovery was collectively taken, many of the combatants struggling to regain their bearings after such a jarring experience. The Enclave soldier glanced up at Tap as he pulled his pistol, her confusion resolving into anger as she started to swing both glowing barrels his way. Tap held his breath. He was too close to dodge if she managed to squeeze off a shot first.

Before the Enclave soldier could pull the trigger, she was violently interrupted. A new pony had joined the fight.

It was the dash in Tap’s system that kept this pony from becoming little more than a blur of motion because, like Tap, she appeared to move at normal speed while the rest of the world had been slowed to a crawl. She passed in front of Tap, rearing up, but turning away. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of mirrored lenses, reflecting a distant flash of lightning. He couldn’t read her expression because there was no expression to read. Her mane flowed free and untamed, concealing her ears and brow. Everything below the cheekbone was wrapped in a shredded scarf, red as flowing blood.

The rest of the scarf whipped through the rain in her wake as she twisted her body like a corkscrew, her hooves passing inches from Tap’s face. They didn’t resemble pony hooves. They were scarred and cloven; carved. The gaps between her bisected hooves held thin, glimmering strips of metal, like the blades of an ice skate. She brought them over her head, and then swung in a wide arc, splitting the Enclave soldier’s neck so severely that her entire head canted to one side. Crimson bubbles swelled and popped at the mouth of the enormous gash in her windpipe as gouts of blood gushed around the wound.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the scarved pony kept moving, leaving the hemorrhaging pegasus to stagger. Her lips moved breathlessly, her bulging, horrified eyes fixed on Tap. Tap put the barrel of the forty-five to her forehead and squeezed, two empty casings twirling through the air. Behind her toppling corpse, the scarved pony leapt toward the wall of the barn, clearing several feet, then scaling the rest in just a few bounds.

On the roof of the barn, the two pegasi—now helmetless—were just starting to take aim when she arrived. She was too close for them to properly open fire. Tap could feel the effects of the dash draining from his system as the pegasi tried their hardest to bludgeon their uninvited guest, their movements becoming difficult to follow. They seemed incapable of landing a single blow. She weaved and dodged their attacks as though it were some sort of elaborate dance, the sheer speed and grace of her attacks making it seem so effortless in the process. The Enclave soldiers were just barely able to defend themselves as they were both attacked simultaneously, with sparks flying every time her hooves struck their armor.

There was a dull buzz in Tap’s ears as he sluggishly turned his head enough to glance over his haunches. The Steel Rangers were reassessing the situation. Some of them returned their attention to the original targets, tracking the increasingly battered pegasi on the roof of the barn. Others seemed to be more interested in the hellhound standing just a few yards in front of them. She was in the middle of carving up her opponent, rending flesh and metal as though it were tissue paper and cardboard, occasionally chewing and swallowing parts of the eviscerated pegasus. Tap swung his gaze toward Paharita and found her still curled up in the fetal position a few paces from where he stood. He reached for her with his levitation, attempting to drag her out of the potential line of fire.

Tap barked, “Leaf Marine!” and the hellhound looked up from her kill, her grinning muzzle drenched in blood.

The intensity of the buzzing skyrocketed. Suddenly, a deep and flickering shadow fell over the area. Tap looked up just fast enough to see the swarm of parasprites descending on the Steel Rangers, their horrified cries filling his ears. Already, the vivid and glistening hues of fresh meat began to show through the buzzing cloud, the air full of thick, wet sounds of flesh being torn and chewed. The Steel Rangers were firing wildly into the swarm, bullets and high explosives zipping by, tearing up the landscape. That seemed to be enough motivation for Leaf to abandon her meal, and she quickly ambled over to Tap. No longer satisfied with dragging Rita, he heaved the trembling griffon onto his back.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here!” he screamed, readying himself to gallop.

As Leaf nodded, he noticed something overhead. There was a figure hanging in the air, just above the screaming, thrashing soldiers. An equine form suspended by a smaller cloud of parasprites, forelegs spread to either side, hind legs dangling.

“Fear not,” the floating pony shouted, his voice muffled and distorted. “On this day, it is not your flesh we crave!”

A loud thud drew Tap’s attention. His eyes darted toward the barn, spotting a pegasus in a crumpled heap on the ground. The pegasus reached skyward, only to be swarmed with parasprites. Back on the roof, the last Enclave soldier was fighting a losing battle.

Tap briefly wondered why the soldier didn’t just fly away, but he soon realized the answer. Enclave power armor didn’t fully cover the wings, and the scarved pony had exploited this to the point that the armor was likely the only thing holding that pegasus’s wings together. Bloodied and weary, the pegasus only managed to ward off her attacks for a few moments more. It ended with one simple stroke. She brushed a hoof across the pegasus’s throat, and the Enclave soldier stumbled back onto their haunches, clutching forehooves to their neck as it erupted in a spray of blood. As the scarved pony stepped away, the final pegasus was engulfed in a swirling cloud of parasprites.

Gracefully, the scarved pony dismounted the roof, and the pony held aloft by parasprites slowly descended. All of the parasprites dispersed when he reached the ground, leaving behind stained bones and power armor caked in blood.

“Wrong power armor,” he heard Rita whimper.

“No shit!” He looked back at her, noting her tiny pupils and twitching eyelids. “You owe me a hundred caps, dumbass.”

“Hello, Paharita!” called the pony that had been hovering via parasprites, slowly advancing. The scarved pony followed close behind. “So good to see you again!”

“Voided by technicality,” Rita cheerfully murmured, slowly crawling off of Tap’s back.

Tap scoffed. “Bullshit.”

The griffon grinned, but made no further comment. “Pestilence! How the heck are ya?” She tilted her head, and leaning to the side, added, “Is that Steppin’ Razor?” Rita lifted a claw, waving. “Hey there! Long time no see!”

Steppin’ Razor—the mare wearing the scarf—said nothing, but she did bow deeply. Tap had thought she was wearing goggles, but he quickly realized that her eyes were the lenses, cold and vacant, set into the sockets.

The pony Rita had identified as Pestilence answered for both of them.  “We’ve had our ups and downs, my dear girl. Things have changed quite a bit in the last few months, and not entirely to our benefit. I apologize for the delayed assistance, as well. We were waiting for an opportune moment to strike.”

A gas mask was the source of his vocal distortion, but he also wore what appeared to be a riot helmet over that. The word “CANTERLOT” was just faintly legible above the visor. He had clothed himself with something akin to a bright red button-up raincoat, its color somewhat muted by the gloomy downpour. The hood of the coat hung around his neck, rolled up to keep it from accumulating rainwater, but there was something else just below his jaw line. It looked to be some kind of collar, a long antenna jutting into the air from the left side. The rasping hiss of his breathing became audible as he stopped just a few paces from Double Tap.

“Well your opportune moment almost got us blasted!” Rita huffed. “Did you know those jerks were hiding out here?!”

Pestilence nodded. “We did. But, these days, we’re rather outnumbered. Taking them by surprise was our only option.”

There were no longer any parasprites in the area, but under the patter of rain, there was a distinct and irregular rhythm of buzzing, underscored by a soft, but high pitched tone. As he tried to figure out where it was coming from, he noticed that Leaf had vanished from his side. He looked over his withers and saw that she was standing well away from the group, her ears folded back.

Tap raised a brow as he met her gaze. “You alright?”

“Too loud,” Leaf whined. “Hurts ears.”

Pestilence cleared his throat and stood up straight. “Ah! Yes, terribly sorry.” He lifted a hoof to his neck, reaching into the hood of his rain jacket.

The tone cut out, though the buzzing continued. It was at this point that Tap realized the buzzing was coming from inside Pestilence. Tap felt his skin crawl. He looked over at Leaf in an effort to distract himself. She had visibly relaxed, her ears pointing up again as she returned to Tap’s side. She cradled the Punchline in her paws and happily offered it to him. Rita reached over to grab the Punchline from both of them, and then immediately distanced herself, as though she were a magnet of the same polarity.

“I do hope you’ll forgive me, my dear.” Pestilence bowed deeply to Leaf. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting a hellhound before, and I would hate to spoil the opportunity.”

“You think that’s an opportunity?” Rita snorted out a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re definitely still a weirdo, Pestie.”

Pestilence chuckled deeply. “Quite! Now, how about we take shelter from this dreadful rain? Our camp is just around the bend.”

Rita glanced over at Leaf, grinning slyly. “I dunno… do you want a pony-eating monster dog wandering around your tents? Maybe you’ve got a kennel or a post or something you can leash her to?”

“Rita!” Tap turned his attention back toward the ponies standing before him. “She’s seriously not a dick. You won’t cause any trouble, right Leaf Marine?”

Leaf nodded enthusiastically. “Just passing through. Not even hungry anymore.”

“It’s quite alright,” Pestilence reassured them. “If she’s on her best behavior, I doubt the others will mind.”

“Others?” Tap cautiously questioned.

Steppin’ Razor nodded. With a synthetic sounding voice, she gently stated, “We’re all monsters here.”

|[(  ) ]|[(  ) ]|[(  ) ]|

After ten minutes worth of following Paharita’s acquaintances in rainy silence, Double Tap came to the conclusion that their destination was a very large patch of thorn bushes. Rita clearly had the same idea, but as was her custom, she was far more vocal about it.

“Pestie, that’s just some pointy shrubs,” she squawked. “You said you had a camp here!”

Steppin’ Razor glanced up at Pestilence, nodding toward the brush.

The gas-masked pony chuckled, reaching low. “And I am not one to lie.”

He lifted several of the branches, and as he raised them even higher, they were no longer branches. They had melded into some sort of mesh net. A few of the surrounding branches shifted, and they too dissolved into a textured mesh, the fabric folding against his hoof.

“A unicorn well versed in the art of illusion is worth their weight in diamonds.”

Rita stepped forward, seemingly unimpressed. She ducked under the raised edge of the net and vanished within. By contrast, Leaf Marine had a look of wide-eyed shock across her canine face. Tap raised a brow. He couldn’t decide if her jaw was hanging slack because she was pleased or terrified, but either way, she had gone as still as a statue. Shrugging, he took a few steps forward, and she followed, though clearly still dumbfounded. He snickered and nodded to Steppin’ Razor and Pestilence, then he crouched through the opening.

The thorn brush illusion was purely external. As the net rolled and shifted gently overhead, threads of dim light painted the earthen floor with moving color.

There were several grizzled, armed ponies and one haggard alicorn watching Tap as he stood up straight inside. All of them maintained defensive positions behind stacks of cinder blocks and sandbags, two of which were manning mounted machine-guns. They were, themselves, nothing of real interest. What did catch Tap’s eye was the insignia that they wore, sewn onto their armor or worn as leg-bands; a stylized white eye with a crimson iris. Suddenly, Steppin’ Razor’s red scarf and Pestilence’s red raincoat became more than just a choice in attire.

A few of them gave him funny looks as his face lit up with glee, murmuring to one another. The alicorn squinted at Tap, and then she started to giggle. He assumed that she recognized him from his magical evening with Fillydelphia’s super alicorn and gave her a wink. Behind him, Leaf Marine gasped softly. The guards’ expressions changed from amusement and confusion to surprise in the very instant it took her to duck inside.

Tap bristled as they took aim at the hellhound. “Woah-Woah-Woah!” He reared in front of her, waving his forelegs. “Don’t shoot! She’s cool!”

“No need for alarm, gentlemen,” stated Pestilence as he held the net back for Steppin’ Razor. “I’ll be keeping a close eye on our canine guest, though I sincerely doubt that she’ll be causing any mayhem during her visit.”

Hesitantly, they lowered their weapons, but not their guard. The alicorn among them stepped aside, begrudgingly nodding toward an opening in the wall she had been positioned in front of.

“You’ll find the mess hall to the left,” she muttered. “We ask that you keep your pooch on a short leash.”

Tap peered through the opening to find that there was a fairly narrow passage running through the barricade. He caught a glimpse of Rita as she rounded a corner, her tail tuft vanishing in the blink of an eye. Several foals and a stallion galloped past the moment he set hoof into the makeshift corridor, laughter and paternal scolding lingering in their wake. It was a very tight fit for Leaf. She had to crouch down and practically sidestep in order to move forward, since the passage had clearly not been intended for anything larger than a pony, but that hardly seemed to bother her.

“Can you do that, pony?” Leaf murmured, her eyes glued to the enchanted camouflage above. “Turn things into other things?”

“I uh… I can kinda do that. I’m alright at it, I guess?”

Leaf tilted her head. “Alright?”

A mare strolled into view further down the winding passage. She recoiled and immediately went back the way she came, wailing something unintelligible.

Tap shrugged. “Illusions spells like that are really hard, and I don’t have a lot of practice with them. Mostly I just do simple stuff.” He nodded up at the net. “Unless it’s a one-time thing, I’d have to be there keeping the spell refreshed if I wanted it to stick.”

“Unfortunate,” Pestilence murmured from behind them, “but hardly unforgivable. Your skills clearly lie more with the art of war than the art of deception.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Tap muttered.

Leaf’s next question was, “What about sound that make ears and eyes bleed?”

“Oh, that’s— I don’t think that’s a thing a unicorn can just do.” Tap looked past Leaf, trying to make eye contact with Pestilence. “Were you the one broadcasting that awful shit?”

Pestilence chuckled quietly. “That is correct. And, to my knowledge, only a radio that has had prolonged exposure to Canterlot’s pink cloud is capable of transmitting static with such volatile properties. I happen to have one such radio in my possession.”

Tap nodded. “I figured.” He chewed his lower lip for a moment, carefully considering the question on the tip of his tongue. “Hey so… you guys are with Red Eye, right?”

Pestilence cleared his throat. “Were is the better term.”

Tap felt himself deflate. “So it’s true.”

“We wish it weren’t,” Steppin’ Razor confirmed.

“This would be better discussed over a meal, I believe,” stated Pestilence.

Following the gradually intensifying din of conversation, Double Tap emerged into what appeared to be some kind of crowded dining area.

A tangy, spicy aroma hung in the air. Nearby, a trio of enormous metal tables stretched out in front of him. He suspected that they were as much intended for use as cover as a surface to eat off of. A few of the ponies seated at the closest table had paused mid conversation to look his way, but others carried on uninterrupted. An enormous cauldron was being tended on the other side of the makeshift enclosure; the likely source of the wonderful smell. As Leaf Marine shuffled out into the open, the room fell into near complete silence. The soft patter of rain, the bubbling of the cauldron’s contents, and the crackling of the fire beneath it were made distinctly audible by the uneasy quiet.

“Smells tasty,” Leaf remarked.

A dozen ponies simultaneously drew their weapons.

“Oh, come on!” Tap groaned.

“Yeah, let’s bring the big, pony-eating dog into a pony camp,” Rita called from her seat at one of the tables. “What did you expect, genius?!”

“Now now, everypony!” Pestilence stepped out in front of Leaf. “There’s no need for that! She is our guest!”

Only a fraction of the ponies stood down, while the rest of them kept Leaf in their sights.

Leaf didn’t seem particularly worried by this, though she did roll her eyes and give a toothy sneer. “Jumpy ponies.”

The pony seated next to Rita slowly got to his hooves, glancing back at the griffon. “Shit, when you told me you had a hellhound with you, I thought you were joking.” He looked Leaf over, then locked eyes with Tap. Chuckling, he added, “Well, at least you didn’t come charging through the camp, this time.”  

Tap had the faintest spark of recognition flickering in the back of his mind as he examined the approaching pony.

He had a stocky build with a pastel-purple coat, his off-white mane and tail cut short. There was something dull and weary about his faded yellow eyes. A few blood-stained bandages clung to his neck and forelegs, and a tattered, zip-up denim jacket hung loosely off of his body. The sleeves had been torn away at the knees, with the Red Eye emblem sewn into the breast of the jacket. He certainly looked familiar, but there seemed to be something missing. Tap tried imagining him in the usual garb of a Red Eye soldier, and suddenly, the picture came together.

A little smirk tugged the corner of Tap’s mouth. “Aren’t you that guy we kept bribing to get into Tenpony?”

“That guy.” The pony burst out laughing. “That’d be me, yeah! Name’s Palace.” He lifted a hoof, which Tap firmly shook. “Good to see you’re both still on our side. Lately, we’re not too popular.”

Tap nodded slowly, looking down at the floor. “I’ve heard a bit about that... about Red Eye. Damn shame.”

“Yeaaaaah… seems like, once he was out of the picture, everything just started to fall apart. First the Cathedral went to shit, and then the whole damn city just came unglued.” Palace lifted a hoof, gesturing. “The Enclave came at us from above and below, the Steel Rangers attacked us from the ground, and on top of that, they were bombarding us with some kind of artillery super-weapon.”

“We believe the source of said weapon to be Tenpony Tower,” Pestilence commented.

Palace let his hoof drop and shook his head. “We held them all back for as long as we could, but it was hopeless. In the end, we grabbed all the weapons and research we could carry and tried to get as many ponies out of the city as safely as we could.”

“Fuck,” murmured Tap.

Palace heaved a deep sigh. “All that’s left of us now are foals, scientists, a few alicorns,” he snickered, lifting his head proudly, “and soldiers too damn stubborn to die.”

Tap glanced around. The ponies present had calmed considerably. Guns were no longer being aimed at Leaf, and Leaf had stopped baring her teeth. A little filly cautiously approached the hellhound, but was quickly snatched up by a mare in combat armor and scolded. An alicorn wearing a flight jacket took the filly’s place, tilting her head as she examined Leaf. Leaf mirrored the alicorn’s motions, her club-tail wagging.

He returned his attention to Palace and asked, “Are you the only ones that made it out?”

Palace shook his head. “Oh, not even close. This group was five times as big, but we all got split up fighting our way out. There were a number of units stationed around the wasteland when Filly fell, too. We’ve been trying to get everyone to rally so that we can make a push to take back the city.” Palace snorted, looking away. “The few other groups we’ve managed to contact seem more interested in pillaging and raising hell than reclaiming our home, though. I guess you can’t expect much more from former raiders.”

A colt scampered up to Palace and tucked himself between the stallion’s forelegs, peering up at Tap. The resemblance between the two was unmistakable. Palace smiled and rested a hoof between the foal’s ears, gently tussling his mane. “Anyway, are you and the griffon lady and your hellhound thinking of hooking up with us?” He looked back toward Rita. “We could sure use the help.”

Before Tap could answer, Leaf barked, “What you mean your hellhound, pony?” She had stepped around the alicorn with paws on her hips, one brow raised.

He tried again, and was again interrupted, this time by Rita. “Sorry, we’re trying to help ourselves.” She gestured to Leaf with one claw, rolling her eyes. “And we already have a whole lot on our plate.”

Tap grumbled and his stomach followed suit. He perked up. “Hey, speaking of plates—” He glanced down at his hooves and cleared his throat. “I uh… I know you guys are going through some shit, and we kind of don’t have any money or gear to trade with, but—”

Palace snickered and nodded. “Yeah, sure, don’t even worry about it.”

“Wait—” Tap blinked, flicking an ear. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. This little refugee camp is under my command, and I think it’s good to know that there are ponies out there who are still on our side.” He glanced over at the cooking cauldron, then back at Tap, grinning. “So, yeah. Food and drink is on the house, and we might be able to part with a few mags and some grenades. We don’t have any beds to spare, but if you wanna crash here for the night, that’s on the table too.”

“Well!” Rita had already acquired a plate piled with food and started stuffing her face, but continued to speak with her mouth full. “In that case, we accept your offer.” She looked back at Palace, her tail tip whipping about. “If I have to so much as help with math homework, though, we’re outta here.”

Obnoxious griffon aside, it was impossible for Tap to hide his beaming smile or his excited chuckle. “You’re really sure?”

Palace laughed and nodded. “I get the feeling that it’s gonna be a while until we see another friendly face, so there’s no reason to hold out on the hospitality. Anyway, I’m done repeating myself. Let’s eat.”

Tap nodded, swallowed a mouthful of saliva, and set out to procure a meal.

|[o8- ]|[o8- ]|[o8- ]|

The gathered ponies gradually quieted as Double Tap thumped on the table. Leaf Marine grinned from across the table as she imitated him, her big paws pounding in rhythm with his hooves. Someone had given her a spiked collar, hopefully as a joke, and she had repurposed it as a bracelet. Paharita grumbled and turned away. No one had given her anything.

“I just wanna say,” he slurred, grinning from ear to ear, “that you’ve all been really, really cool, showing kindness like this to us even when you’re already down on your luck. Yeah, things are shitty for all of us now, but you know what? They won’t always be!” There were murmurs of agreement in the crowd, smiles and nods exchanged as he looked around.

“Fuck Littlepip, and fuck the Steel Rangers, and fuck the Enclave! You’ve just gotta stick together and ride it out, and some day, we’ll be on top again!”

“What is this?” Palace called, from his seat beside his son at the head of the table, “A toast?”

Several ponies laughed, but the notion sat well with Tap. “You know what? Fuck it! It’s a toast!” Tap levitated his mug high into the air. Some of the beer splashed against the table, but no one seemed to care, himself included. “To Palace Caravan! May he lead you all swift and safely back home!”

A round of cheers and clinking, sloshing cups went up from the crowd. Palace grinned and nodded his way, raising his own glass, and then drinking. However, Tap felt as though he had more to say. He lifted a hoof to Skimmer’s necklace and found the words he was looking for.

“But… let’s not forget all the ones that couldn’t make it here, to share this food and drink and be a part of these memories; the ones that were taken too soon, or taken unfairly.” The room had fallen into complete silence. He lifted his mug again, eyes closed. He could see Skimmer on the insides of his eyelids, smiling back at him. “To all the ones that we’ve loved and lost.”

Hundreds of names were spoken at once, some more softly than others, by friends, siblings, parents and children alike. Palace held his son closely as they whispered a name in unison, the pair of them seeming to console one another. Across from him, Leaf was slowly listing off names, her lips moving without any sound. Rita did nothing but sigh and roll her eyes. The quiet of the room persisted; a moment of silence, unannounced, but near universally observed. He waited until Leaf had finished, and then he raised his glass one more time.

“And this one is to Red Eye. He’s with the ones that are no longer with us, and his city may have fallen, but we’re still alive!” He struck the table with one hoof. “Proof that somepony tried to bring order and civilization to the wasteland!” He hit the table again and again, and others began to join in. “Let’s never let them forget what he tried to accomplish!” Over the thundering of hooves, he bellowed, “To Red Eye!”

“To Red Eye!”

The whoops and cheers had just barely subsided when Rita groaned, “Gimmie a break!” A hush fell over the gathered ponies, but Rita either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She waved a talon in Tap’s face. “If I hear one more sappy toast from you, I’m gonna puke!” Tap gawked at her. She sighed. “Please tell me you’re done.”

Tap levitated his beer over her, then poured it out over her head. As she squawked and sputtered, the crowd fell into a fit of laughter. Rita frantically wiped the beer from her face, glaring at him from between her talons. He smirked and nodded.

“Now I’m done.”

 

|[BAR]|[BAR]|[BAR]|

“After Fluttershy’s squealing had calmed to breathless whimpers of bliss atop the mountain of zebra corpses, Rainbow Dash cradled her and said—” Paharita slipped into what Tap had come to understand was the Rainbow Dash voice, “I’ve been having wet dreams about this since the day I met you, but you made it twenty percent sexier.” Rita lowered the small stack of paper and announced, “And then they snowballed and had even more sex! The end!”

Double Tap sighed into his hooves, refusing to open his eyes. They had left Palace’s camp two mornings prior for this. At least the campfire was warm and the log he shared with Leaf wasn’t too uncomfortable a seat.

“Great story!” Leaf Marine cheered from beside him, her claws clicking as she clapped enthusiastically. “Fun characters! You make yourself, griffon?”

He could just imagine Rita tilting her head. “The Ministry Mares? No, those are real ponies!”

Leaf gasped. “This actually happen?!”

There was a moment of silence before Rita said, “Well no one can prove that it didn’t happen!”

“Ask them.”

“Ask them? I wish, but I can’t!”

Leaf sounded confused. “So, you hear story from others, griffon?”

There was mounting frustration in Rita’s voice. “No, I wrote it. This is my story!” She cleared her throat. “And anyway, nobody has talked to them because they’ve all potentially been dead for like, two hundred years.”

Tap peered up at Leaf. She was scratching the side of her neck, semi-squinting at Rita from across the fire. “How you know what they like if you never meet them, griffon?”

The paper began to crumple as Rita tightened her grip. “Because they’re documented! I know more about the Ministry Mares than anyone! That makes my fanfiction the most canonical!”

This is getting good. Tap propped up his head to watch. I wish I had some popcorn.

Leaf leaned back, giving Rita a look of scrutiny. “Story make believe about real ponies you never meet because ponies die a long time ago.”

Rita nodded aggressively. “Fanfiction!”

Slowly, Leaf stood up and stepped over the log. “Need to think about this.” She smiled back at Rita. “Still like story, though.”

Rita huffed, her feathers ruffling. “Whatever.” She turned a page, and grinned at Tap. “You get the privilege of hearing the sequel: Gushing Rainboom Two; Red Tide of Despair!”

Without a moment’s delay, Tap swiftly followed Leaf’s example. Despite the fact that she was a bipedal mutant who had, at one point, intended on killing and eating Paharita and himself, there was something about her that made her company genuinely enjoyable; probably because she didn’t actively antagonize him or try to read him poorly conceived Ministry Mare fanfiction.

Leaf hadn’t gotten too far from the campfire by the time he caught up with her. She smiled over at him, but kept walking. The campfire was a flickering glow in the distance when she finally stopped, then dropped onto her rump and leaned back. Tap glanced over his withers, then back to Leaf.

“I dunno if we should leave that little cunt all alone like this. She’s kind of a wimp.”

“I can hear if danger coming,” Leaf replied. She patted the grassy earth beside her. “Look at stars with me, pony?”

Tap smiled and lowered himself to one side, rolling onto his back. She put her paws behind her head and lay out with him. The night sky was a sea of glittering lights above them, with a full moon rising over the mountains in the distance. He let himself get lost in the swirls of distant, colorful light, briefly forgetting all of his troubles. As with watching the sunset, gazing into the beautiful and endless starscape brought him a feeling of inner peace that he deeply cherished. It also brought feelings of nostalgia. Memories that, somehow, did not fill him with sadness or anger.

“My dad showed me this book once,” he said softly, a little smile on his lips. “It was all about stars and these things called constellations.”

Leaf murmured, “What’s constel-lations?”

“So it’s like… back before the war, the sky was like this every night. And there were these ponies that used to do what we’re doing right now, but they made shapes and figures out of certain groups of stars for fun or something.”

She gave him a glance. “Want to make some?”

Tap shrugged. “Sure, why not.” He scanned the stars for a moment, then grinned. “Okay, do you see that star there? In that kinda white, cloudy spot?”

Leaf lifted a paw, pointing. “Which one?”

“It’s like… reddish-yellow?”

“I no see color, pony.”

“Oh… right.” He scooted closer to her and pointed with a hoof, then looked over at her. “Right there.” When he looked back to where he was pointing, he couldn’t pick out the star he had been pointing to from the stars surrounding it. “Uh, nevermind. Maybe we need a telescope for this.”

“Oh. Okay.” Leaf folded her paws behind her head again. A few moments later, she quietly asked, “Why you go there, pony?”

“Where?”

She shrugged. “Where I meet you second time.”

Tap raised a brow and gave her a sideways glance. “Arbu?”

Leaf nodded. “Nothing there. Only pony bones.”

He sighed. “It wasn’t always like that.”

She went very quiet, turning her head to look him in the eyes. Hesitantly, she whispered, “Your pack… die there?”

“Yeah.” Tap nodded and looked away. “You could say that.”

A dead silence came over them for what felt like hours.

Finally, she whispered, “I think… they in better place now.” He met her gaze and she donned a delicate smile, waving a claw toward the glittering sky. “Maybe my pack chase your pack through stars, like I chase you. Ponies like to run, dogs like to chase.” He met her gaze again. “No more hurt. No more hate. Just fun.”

He smiled with her, nodding. “That’d be nice.” There was another long, awkward pause. He cleared his throat. “Sorry about your family, by the way.”

“No need for sorries,” she said as she waved her paw. “On day we bring down cursed-pony building, the dogs you and griffon kill die with honor.”

Grimacing, Tap looked down at his hooves. “Shit. I meant the megaspell thing, but yeah, I’m sorry about what happened at Olneigh, too.”

She exhaled slowly. “No need for sorries about megaspell, either. Cowards kill my pack. You no coward. Not your fault they die with no honor.” She sighed and shook her head, then started chuckling. “Would have eaten you and griffon, if you not fight so hard, run so fast. Fight so hard, want to track you for honor of hunting you.” Her cheer seemed to evaporate again. “In strange way, you save my life, pony.”

Tap had nothing to say to that. He smiled awkwardly and shrugged instead.

“Mean to say,” she smiled, “thank you.”

After thinking that over for a moment, he waved a hoof dismissively. “Shit, you don’t have to thank me for that. And honestly, you’re doing me and Rita a huge favor, helping us out like this. We’d be fucked finding this lady without you.” He snorted, giving her a sideways glance. “Also, I’m sorry that Rita has been a piece of shit to you. She’s kind of a bag of dicks.”

Leaf shook her head a little. “It okay.”

“I don’t think it’s okay. She treats everyone like assholes. I’m on my last fucking straw with her. She has to realize that you’re not a monster, or at least that you’re useful.” He sighed sharply, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “She really needs to pull her head out of her ass.”

That got a chuckle out of Leaf. “Not her fault she scared of me, pony. Dogs scary. Most things not dogs scared of dogs. You different. No fear.” She turned her head toward Tap, smiling. “Make me think, maybe not all ponies so bad.”

He started to feel a little warm and fuzzy, and tried to laugh it off. “No, they’re mostly pretty awful.”

“Dogs too. All ponies monsters,” she said in a slightly deeper voice. “That what momma used to say. Tasty monsters. Only good for hunting and eating.” She stuck out her tongue. “If she meet pony like you, maybe she not say those things.”

The next thing out of her was a gentle sigh. “Miss her. Miss my pack… funny, though. Never much liked them when they alive. I rather be out hunting than at home. Pack always pick on me, beat me up, make me eat last, but they still my pack. Now… now, I—” She trailed off, gazing up at the stars.

“You feel alone?”

“Not so much. Miss my pack, but… feel less alone now than when pack alive.” Leaf smiled, rolling onto her side to face him. “Glad I meet you, pony. Make it not so bad.”

“Yeah, well, you know—” The warmth in his face persisted, and then intensified. “You’re good company.”

Leaf Marine giggled softly, covering her muzzle with one paw. There was suddenly something different about her, but Tap couldn’t place it. Perhaps the moonlight was hitting her in just the right way, or maybe it was the way her eyes reflected the glimmer of the stars above.

Whatever the reason, he felt his heart flutter as she lidded her eyes and asked, “You like me, pony?”

Tap tried and failed to hide his grin. “Yeah,” he breathed, squirming involuntarily. “Yeah, you’re alright with me.”

She exhaled a happy sigh and closed her eyes, still smiling. “I like you, too, pony.”

As the words I like you, too resonated in his mind, Tap closed his eyes and pursed his lips, craning his neck toward her. I’m really going to do this, he told himself, simultaneously excited and bashful. I’m going to kiss a hellhound. Whatever. This is my life now, I guess. 

He felt her breath against his nose, a shiver running down his spine. The idle musings came even faster. Her teeth are so sharp, though. What does a dog tongue even feel like? Oh jeeze she’s probably a really wet kisser. He could feel himself getting stiff, cold air on the head of his shaft. I wonder if this is gonna escalate to fucking. 

When he couldn’t stretch his neck any farther, it dawned on him that he had yet to make contact with her lips. Double Tap peered out of one eye, and saw that Leaf was staring back at him, her head tilted, and a baffled look on her face. She had been leaning away as he advanced. They were still nearly nose to nose.

“What you doing, pony?” she murmured.

“I, uh— we—” Tap swallowed, letting himself drop back. “I thought you wanted to kiss.”

Leaf blinked. “What’s kiss?”

“Well, you know!” He squirmed again, his erection throbbing in the open air. Leaf tilted her head the other way, ears twitching. Tap’s jaw hung slack as he realized that she didn’t know. “It’s when two ponies are in the heat of the moment, and they—” Leaf started to snicker. “What are you laughing about?”

She didn’t stop snickering, but she did point to his cock. She started to laugh even harder.

Tap turned his gaze toward his genitals, then back to Leaf. “What’s funny about this?!”

“Pony wiener!” she said between giggle fits.

He wrinkled his nose, frowning intensely. He could feel his erection rapidly wilting. Being blunt was clearly his only option. “Leaf Marine… do you wanna fuck or what?”

Leaf sputtered and fell back, laughing hysterically, clutching her middle as she rolled around. “You wanna mate me, pony?” She curled up, trying to stop laughing long enough to catch her breath. “Gross!”

Tap rolled to his hooves. “What?!”

“I don’t wanna mate with pony!” She stuck out her tongue with a “yuck” and shook her head. “Pony weiner is grrrrross!”

Tap stood in utter disbelief for a moment, as she continued to laugh uncontrollably. When he was too frustrated and embarrassed to endure any more, he groaned and shambled back to the camp fire.

“Wait, pony!” Leaf called. “Come back! I sorry! No angry!”

Rita was waiting for him at the fire, giggling under her breath as he came closer.

“Did you really just try to pork the pooch?!” Rita squealed, wiping tears from her eyes as she doubled over with laughter.

Double Tap gnashed his teeth and stomped off to find somewhere else to sleep, tail flicking angrily. “I don’t wanna talk to anybody, just leave me the fuck alone! Good. Fucking. Night!”

|[o8- ]|[o’o ]|[(  ) ]|

Chapter 10 - Unsolicited Interview

~~~|*/\*|~~~

But after being alone for so long, it’s kind of weird to have friends with me all the time. I mean, there was Glade Skimmer and her family, and I’ve been with Rita for years, but... I wasn’t visiting Skimmer every day, and... I never really thought of Rita as a friend.

Well, Paharita was absolutely dreadful, so that’s understandable. But, if I may, you sound troubled by this turn of events. You do like it, don’t you?

It’s… different. In a good way, I think. I like that I don’t have to do things all by myself, at least, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve had my ass saved by my friends more than once, it’s just—

I’m scared.

Oh, darling—

When I was by myself, I didn’t have to worry about anyone but me, and I barely worried about me. When it was just me and Rita, even if she annoyed the shit out of me, I knew that I could keep her safe... and I never doubted that Steel Trap and Anette could protect Skimmer when I wasn’t around, but then—

Then Arbu… and Rita—

Please, just relax. It’s okay.

It’s NOT okay! I can’t protect my friends! I’m just one fucking pony watching everyone I love and care about get picked off one by one! I don’t want to go back to the way things were before I met you! I can’t live like that again!

What wrong in there, pony? Why you shouting?

He’s just having a moment and we would sincerely appreciate some privacy, thank you!

Sorry, pony.

It’s alright, now. I’m here... and I promise you, it’s going to take quite a display of force to bring me down. And, you’re also neglecting something rather crucial.

What?

You’re not the only one watching over us. We all watch over one another, and keep each other safe. That’s what friends do.

I… never really thought of it like that.

Does that take a bit of the weight off your withers?

You know… yeah. A little bit.

~~~|*/\*|~~~

Chapter Ten – Unsolicited Interview

|[  7 ]|[(  ) ]|[BAR]|

“Sock-pony close,” said Leaf Marine, holding an empty can before her nose.

Paharita craned her neck forward, leaning as close as she could to the kneeling hellhound without actually stepping into claw’s reach. “You said that a day ago! How close is close?”

Leaf stood and tossed the can over her shoulder. “Very,” she replied.

Double Tap glanced up at Leaf, then around her, making eye contact with the receding griffon. “How long are you gonna keep this shit up?”

“Until Rainbow Dash rises from her unmarked grave!” Rita stuck her tongue out at the pair of them. “And you’re cuckoo-crazy for trusting her!”

“She caught breakfast for the three of us this morning!” He looked to Leaf, who smiled and nodded enthusiastically, then jabbed his hoof in Rita’s direction. “Granted, she doesn’t know how to cook either, but still, she’s still a good pon— er, dog!”

Leaf gave another enthusiastic nod.

Rita laughed and quickly said, “Yeah sure okay.”

“I have question,” Leaf said, pointing.

Tap came up beside her for a better look. They stood at the top of a hill, up high enough to get a decent look at the surrounding terrain. An enormous, sickly forest stretched across the landscape ahead of them, bracketed to the north and south by mountains. Rising out of the depths of that forest were a number of tall, decrepit buildings. The mountain range to the south sported several enormous craters, starting near the peaks and reaching down for the forest. The forest itself seemed to have taken a direct hit, indicated by an immense and patchy depression near the treeline, but the city within appeared largely unscathed.

At the bottom of the hill, in the direction that Leaf was gesturing an outstretched claw, were several bright green figures.

She looked to Tap and asked, “Why those ponies glow?”

“Oh, those aren’t—” Tap paused for a moment, taking a second look just to be sure. “Those are ghouls, Leaf.”

Leaf Marine leaned into Tap’s field of view to ask, “What’s ghouls?”

Before Tap could get a word in, Rita stepped right between them and began her own explanation. “Ghoul is slang for a pony that has been horribly deformed and mutated by large amounts of magical radiation, to the point that they’re just mindless, irradiated flesh-eating machines.” She smirked. “Kinda like you, Leaf Marine, except your kind came from diamond dogs and you aren’t very slowly decomposing.”

Tap snorted and pushed Rita aside. “Okay, first off, not all ghouls are mindless monsters. Over time, some of them experience mental de… deter—” He looked over at Rita. “Uh, what’s the word?”

“I’m not going to help you because you’re being a dumb brat,” Rita haughtily stated, her beak upturned.

“Fuck you Rita, you’re the worst.” He returned his attention to Leaf. “Pretty much all ghouls are a couple hundred years old and sometimes their brains don’t work so good after that much time.”

“Oh! I know what you talking about now, pony. No taste good at all!” Leaf let her tongue loll with a sound of disgust. “Withered, growly, hissy ponies.”

“They’re not all like that, though.” He smiled. “There’s this one ghoul lady that kinda sorta looked after me when my dad died. I’d like you to meet her some day. I think the two of you would get along.”

Leaf nodded. “I’d like that, pony.”

“Awwww,” Rita cooed. “You wanna introduce your dog-friend to your zombie-mom? Too bad she’s boner blocking you, huh tough guy?”

Tap levitated the empty can Leaf had been inspecting and pelted Rita with it. She scowled and rubbed the side of her head.

“But why they glow?” Leaf asked again.

“Oh, uh… if a ghoul soaks up enough radiation, it starts to kind of leak out of them as light I guess. I dunno.” He glanced over his withers. “Rita?”

Rita shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care. Just go take care of them for me.”

Tap turned his attention forward again, squinting. “Unless feral ghouls have learned how to play dead, or these guys are just out sunbathing—” He fished a small pair of binoculars out of his bandoleer, peering through them. “I think someone already took care of them for us.”

There were many, less luminescent corpses sprawled out at the bottom of the hill as well, but the glowing ones stood out immediately. With Leaf at his side, he began a cautious descent, levitating his pistol out of its holster.

The closer he got, the more obvious it was that they had definitely been dispatched. Empty shotgun shells littered the scene, but there were also deep hoof marks on many of the bodies. Heads were splattered across the ground, and chests had been crushed in like rotten fruit. It was impossible to determine how fresh the kills were, since ghouls had such a ridiculously long shelf life. Tap and Leaf exchanged glances, and then Leaf knelt down to begin investigating.

“Great!” Rita fluttered over the carnage, landing neatly ahead of them both. “That’s one less thing you need to have a moral dilemma over killing. I’m so happy for you, now let’s keep moving.”

“Sock-pony do this,” Leaf said, as she sniffed one of the glowing corpses.

“Whaaaat,” Rita squawked. “No way. Fatty-Fats couldn’t fight her way out of a wet paper bag.”

Leaf looked up from the kill, one brow raised. “Sock-pony scent all over bodies, griffon. I know what I say.”

Rita shook her head. “So what? It’s not like ghouls decompose. These bodies are probably super old, and Tons-O-Fun is super greedy.” She puffed out her cheeks, spread her legs wider, and started rocking side to side. “She was probably looting these corpses, and she gave them a good stomping while she was doing it just to make sure they were dead.” She nearly lost her balance as she tried to stomp with her good hind.

“Pony following Sock-pony also come through here.” Still sniffing, Leaf started to wander away from the dead ghouls. She pointed toward the forest. “Both ponies go this way.”

“So we’re pretty near to Hollow Shades and it’s gonna get dark in a few hours.” Rita brought up her PipBuck and started clicking away. “Let’s set up camp there.”

Tap squinted at Rita. “Uh?”

“Oh,” she sighed, “let me guess; you have a problem with that, too, Mister Whiny-Whinny?”

“Maybe all the feral ghouls?” Tap droned, staring blankly at Rita. “And aren’t you terrified of ghouls anyway?” He raised a brow. “Why the hell would you want to stay the night in a place that’s full of them?”

Rita smiled pleasantly, giving Tap a sideways glance. “Because honestly, I’m already traveling with one of my greatest fears, since someone won’t just put her out of her misery. A few shamblers will be a cakewalk at this point.” She snickered. “Also it would be kinda cool to watch one big monster fight a whole buncha smaller monsters.”

“You’re fucked up, Rita.”

“Besides, it’s already on our itinerary and I’d like to sleep on a bed tonight!” Rita shrugged, flashing Tap a smug grin. “Might as well stay the night, unless you horses actually like sleeping standing up.”

Tap sneered. “Whatever. Why don’t you fuck off or something while the grown-ups deal with the scary monsters, then.” He waved a hoof skyward. “Don’t you usually pop a stealth buck and go hide in a cloud right about now?”

Rita raised a brow. “Do you see any clouds, dummy?”

“Aw, darn,” he said with feigned sympathy. “Don’t forget to thank your fucking Light-Bringer.”

“Wasting time,” Leaf murmured, pressing on without them. “Never catch up to sock-pony if pony and griffon argue so much.”

“You’re right, Leaf Marine.” Rita stepped away from Tap, though she kept several paces from Leaf. “He is wasting time.”

“You’re a waste of time, you dick,” he grumbled.

Leaf glanced back at the two of them, her teeth just starting to show. “Enough.” In the blink of an eye, she had stopped snarling. Her eyes widened and she raised a brow. “Oh, I have question!” she announced as she looked ahead again. “What sock-pony do that make you track her?”

Rita was first to chime in. “The dirt on Fatty-Fats is that she made a deal with the Enclave in an attempt to take over Friendship City, which was really stupid because I trust the Enclave about as far as I can throw them.”

She unfolded her wings and started flapping alongside them, gesturing with her claws. “Anyway, I guess she screwed up her half of the deal, and the Enclave came in with guns blazing. The city got blown up, lots of ponies got killed, and I got to do some totally sweet looting while this loser was still sulking around about Arbu.” She waggled a talon in Tap’s face.

Tap looked away, ears folding back. “Fuck you.”

“So sock-pony destroy city and get ponies killed. Like what happen to our packs, pony?” Tap met Leaf’s gaze, a sad look on her face. He nodded. She nodded as well. “That why you want to kill sock-pony.”

“Kill?” Rita dropped back to all fours, cocking her head. “I wanna haul her in for the full bounty!”

Leaf glanced back, her head tilted. Tap knew what she was going to say before she said it. “But pony say—”

“Damn it, Leaf.” He sighed and looked off into the distance, anticipating more bad noise from Paharita.

“What I do?” Leaf grumbled.

Suddenly, Rita was right next to him. “Hey,” she shouted in his ear. “We talked about this, mister!” Tap tried to push her away, but she just flew right over him and sank her claws and talons into his back. “We need the money! Don’t screw this up for me!”

After several moments of trying and failing to shake her off, he grunted with frustration. “Fucking fine! Whatever!”

“I don’t know what he told you,” Rita began as she pulled her talons out of his clothing, “but the plan is to capture her alive. We’ll get the biggest reward that way. Besides, this doofus is gonna give you what you want as soon as we find her, so you don’t even need to worry about what we’re gonna do with her!”

Leaf arched a brow at Tap, then shrugged and kept walking. He heaved a quiet sigh of relief as Rita went completely silent.

The edge of the forest stood a short walk from the scattered ghoul corpses. Two centuries of neglect had concealed any roads into Hollow Shades, but two centuries with minimal sunlight meant the undergrowth wasn’t particularly dense, either. Because of this, it was fairly easy to spot any shambling figures amongst the trees. Paharita’s PipBuck chittered softly as they came to the tree line. She reached into her jacket, producing a small pill bottle. Rita took one and Tap took one, but Leaf declined, he assumed, because she was not as susceptible to radiation. They spent a few moments more surveying their immediate surroundings and making sure they hadn’t been spotted. Once Rita had activated a stealth buck, the three of them began their cautious passage through the forest, careful not to disturb any of the locals.

|[o’o ]|[BAR]|[  7 ]|

It seemed darker behind the tree line, even with the sun still shining brightly above. Tap was reminded of the Everfree forest, but this place was diseased, its leaves struggling to cling to their branches. A dry rustling and creaking filled the air as trees were stirred by the wind, accompanied by gurgled, rasping growls in the distance. Decayed luggage littered the ground, their contents rotted away from exposure to the elements. Like the city, these possessions had been abandoned hundreds of years ago as ponies fled. The number of ghouls in the area, and the countless bones jutting out of the forest floor, made him question how many had actually made it out before radiation from the megaspells could fry them.

There were what he assumed to be more recent kills as well. A trail of dead ghouls ran just about on top of the scent that Leaf was so diligently tracking. Whoever had come through with shotgun blazing had gotten the attention of nearly every ghoul within earshot each time they fired their weapon. The number of spent shotshells dwindled as they approached the edge of the city, which gave him the impression that the shooter had caught on.

The forest did not thin out as they neared the city. Without any ponies to maintain the grounds, trees and shrubs had crept right in amongst the buildings. Ancient concrete lay in jagged and uneven slabs, uprooted by tree trunks and roots, with scrawny branches and pale leaves jutting out of crumbling shop fronts and smashed windows. Carts and wagons had been left in the middle of the road, rusted and deteriorated by time. Some of the buildings had collapsed, rubble strewn across the streets and neighboring structures, their rebar skeletons laced with sprouts.

There were fewer ghouls wandering the overgrown streets, but their mindless laments echoed endlessly. Tap wondered if they were aware of their fate; like Hollow Shades, they had become nothing more than irradiated and empty.

Leaf Marine stayed low to the ground as she continued to diligently sniff, leading them block by block into the depths of the city. As she did, they passed the occasional ghoul corpse. The killer had clearly learned their lesson. Most of them had been beaten or trampled, and past a certain point, the kills became more creative. One such ghoul had been crushed under an avalanche of barrels from the back of a wagon, its mangled foreleg jutting out from the top of the pile. Not far from that, bits of stagnant meat and bone were scattered around a small crater. Someone had laid traps and these ghouls had unwittingly set them off.

“Sock-pony scent everywhere,” Leaf whispered.

Tap was startled by the sudden break in the silence. He regained his composure and hissed, “What?”

“Over there,” Leaf murmured as she pointed. “And over there. back there—” She lifted her muzzle skyward and began to sniff furiously. “She here. Sock-pony still here. Scent so fresh I taste it.”

“Why would she stay in a place like this?” whispered Paharita.

Tap shrugged. “Maybe because it’s swarming with ghouls and too poisonous for non-ghouls to settle.”

“Other pony still following sock-pony,” Leaf said quietly. “Maybe force sock-pony to hide.”

“You think they’re the one setting the traps?” Tap asked.

Leaf shook her head. “Haven’t smelled other pony on traps yet. Think sock-pony set traps to catch other pony?”

Rita snickered quietly, stepping around an overturned Sky Bandit. “I think Lardo is a little too big to be playing cat and—”

Double Tap spotted the trip wire a split-second too late. Rita sputtered as she tumbled forward, snapping the line in the process. Tap frantically yanked her back with his levitation, expecting an explosion or some other sort of trap to spring, but nothing happened. A few syllables made it past Rita’s beak before she was completely drowned out by a revving air raid siren on a nearby rooftop. Tap went completely still as the siren reached its peak, the sound resonating in his teeth. Leaf clutched her paws over her ears and began to howl. Just as suddenly as it had started, the wail of the siren began to fade.

“Ouch,” whimpered Leaf, rubbing the sides of her head.

With a dull zap, Rita vanished. “Alright! I’m gonna take your advice.” Tap felt things being dropped into his bandoleer, and then heard the fluttering of wings. “Good luck with the scary monsters!”

Tap heard distant screeching not long after Rita had taken off. “Yeah, thanks.”

He fought to suppress the chill running down his spine as he un-holstered the forty-five and checked the load. Armor piercers wouldn’t be particularly effective against ghouls, since most ghouls weren’t wearing much in the way of clothing or armor. He checked the pocket Rita had deposited into, finding it full of magazines loaded with hollow points.

“It sucks that they don’t taste good, huh?” Tap muttered as he swapped magazines. Leaf tilted her head, and he added, “Otherwise this would be a galloping buffet for you.”

Leaf chuckled and murmured, “Awful shame.”

Tap levitated a dash inhaler to his lips and took a long hit, closing his eyes.

He stood his ground with Leaf, struggling to maintain his composure as the ghouls came in like a rising tide. She thrashed and swung, mutilating ghouls with ease, but there were so many that no matter how many he killed or stabbed, he never gained any ground. Less than a minute and two magazines into the encounter, he was separated from Leaf, overwhelmed, trampled, and devoured before she could come to his aid.

-^v-^v------

Fuuuuck that, he mused as he opened his eyes, glancing around frantically. The closest and most structurally sound-looking building stood to his left. A four story structure that appeared more residential than commercial. An uneven, uncoordinated thundering of hooves echoed to his ears.

“I’m gonna sit this one out,” he said, feeling as though it had taken him years to push each syllable past his lips, when in reality he knew that he had spoken so hurriedly that Leaf probably didn’t understand a word.

Leaf stayed put as he rushed away from the middle of the street. The front door was closed, and he didn’t want to waste time checking it or attract attention by kicking it in. Instead, he leapt through a broken window to the right of it and crouched down inside, waving his pistol around as he did a visual sweep of the room he had landed in. It was empty, and had likely been that way for quite some time. Book cases had toppled away from the walls, the furniture wearing a layer of mold and moss. He turned back toward the street, peering over the grimy window sill.

A bit of dust shook from the ceiling as he heard a rumbling explosion just a few blocks away. Ghouls were pouring in from every direction, and as the withered ponies stumbled mindlessly toward the source of the recent commotion, they tripped a variety of traps. A metallic clanging rang out on the other end of the street and he turned in time to see a construction scaffold come crashing down, its rusty beams impaling or outright crushing the ghouls unfortunate enough to be standing near it. This hardly slowed the horde down, nor did it significantly decrease their numbers. The only thing that could stop them from instinctually investigating the disturbance was death itself.

None of the ghouls seemed to notice Leaf at first. They weren’t looking for her specifically so much as they were looking for anything that wasn’t one of them. As soon as one ghoul spotted her, however, the entire swarm was alerted and charging from both ends of the street and from alleys as well. Tap considered relocating to the second floor as a shower of crumbled plaster cascaded over his back. If he was going to watch Leaf slice her way through countless ghouls, he wanted a better view.

Out on the street, Leaf Marine bared her teeth and widened her stance, her forearms bulging as she flexed her claws. She dropped down to all fours and lunged toward the advancing wave of ghouls, tackling four of them at once as she met them head on. Almost instantly, she was completely surrounded. There were so many of them that they were practically scrambling over one another trying to get close enough to bite and strike her. That didn’t seem to matter. Limbs and heads began to fly, oozing a thick, black sludge that had been blood once upon a time.

Another rain of plaster dust sprinkled down on him, accompanied by a big chunk that broke over his withers. Tap turned away from the window, glanced up at the ceiling, and froze. Milky eyes stared back at him through a jagged hole. With dash in his system, the ghoul’s gurgling, rasping screech was even more unnerving. He swung his foreleg toward the protruding face, but the hole in the ceiling widened around the ghoul’s body, and it lurched far enough forward that his knife sank into the ghoul’s back. It continued to scream as it tumbled through the air, hitting the floor with a heavy thump. A knife through the eye socket abruptly silenced the ghoul, but he knew that it was already too late.

Tap raced through the room, taking the nearest left and finding himself in a stairwell. The front door had not been barricaded, not that it mattered considering that the windows were completely bare. A hair-raising din of growling and rasping flooded in behind him. He made for the stairs, climbing in leaps and bounds. The front door splintered as he reached the summit. Without so much as looking back, he yanked the pin of a grenade and lobbed it down the way he came. The shrieking was muted by the blast, but only briefly, and the uproar swelled back to full volume as he continued to climb.

They were behind him. Not close enough that he could see them when he rounded the third floor landing, but close enough that he could feel the stairwell shuddering as they stampeded over one another in pursuit. He dropped another grenade in the hopes that it would damage the stairs enough to slow them down, or stop them altogether. The explosion shook the floor and sent fresh cracks spider webbing along the walls as he reached the fourth level. His vertical escape route terminated with a railing, overlooking just enough of the stairwell below that he caught a glimpse of the leathery equines charging in his wake.

A sinking feeling lumped up in the pit of his stomach. The railing led to a door which came right off the hinges as Tap tried to push through it. There was no ceiling in this room. Time had worn the roof away completely, exposing it to the world and weather outside. He could see the neighboring rooftop through a collapsed section of the far wall. The floor lurched under his hooves as he galloped toward the opening, and that sinking feeling in his stomach spread to the rest of his body. Even the dash in his system couldn’t prevent him from taking a plunge when the floor fell away beneath him.

He descended with a downpour of rotted debris, rusty metal, and the skeletal frames of furniture. A table broke his fall, its legs splintering to the sides as he came down on it with a heavy thud. The door from the fourth floor splintered as it made contact with the third floor, and with a loud and resonating crack, the third floor began to crumble as well. Tap slid sideways, his hooves scrambling against the table, frantically trying to find purchase. He forced himself into the air with a telekinetic shove, grabbing for the edge of the gaping hole with his forelegs. Jagged bits of wood poked into his chest, but he ignored it, trying to lift himself to his hooves.

These efforts were halted as a distorted scream reached Tap’s ears. He looked back just in time to see a ghoul hurl itself across the gap. Its withered forelegs wrapped around him before he could draw his pistol, biting into the back of his neck and dragging him away from the rough ledge. He landed on top of the ghoul, its ribs crunching like dead leaves on impact. Tap rolled away from the writhing figure, pistol out. He had landed in a bedroom now mostly buried in the debris of the two floors above it. High overhead, ghouls hissed and shuffled around the edge of the pitfall. It didn’t take long for them to start throwing themselves after him.

Double Tap hugged the walls as ghouls hit the dusty floor like sacks of rotten meat, spattering their surroundings with black, viscous blood. This only killed the ones that landed head first. The ones that had landed on their legs reached for him with their shattered limbs, still intent on apprehending him. He tried to keep his composure as he looked around the room, but there were no alternative exits, and the windows behind him overlooked a street already covered in writhing, irradiated masses. I’m fucking cornered, he realized.

The door on the far side of the room shuddered, chunks of plaster falling away from the frame and hinges. It shook and rattled with building intensity until it came off the hinges in pieces. He emptied an entire magazine into the advancing swarm—killing, crippling, wounding—but there were so many of them that no amount of casualties would slow them. The wounded vanished beneath the stampeding while he reloaded, losing precious ground in those few moments. He could feel the effects of the dash rapidly fading, leaving him too disoriented and sluggish to manage another magazine swap after squeezing off the last round.

All the dash in the world couldn’t buy him enough time. He knew that he had passed the point of no return. Gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut, Tap lifted one of his last grenades over his head, putting tension on the pin.

“Come and get it you mother fuckers!”

A thunderous crash shook the building as Tap felt himself being yanked through the window. He pulled the grenade with him and whipped his head around, expecting to see an emaciated equine face with a gaping maw. Instead, he found a pair of intensely blue eyes staring back at him. Leaf Marine had her thick forearm looped under his forelegs, cradling him to her chest as she clung to the side of the building.

“Hang on, pony!” Leaf shouted as she pulled her claws free of the brick façade.

With a grunt and a blur of motion, they were airborne. Leaf twisted herself around mid-leap and braced toward the concrete rooftop across the street. Tap felt her grip tighten. Dazed as he was after coming down from a dash high, he felt the wind knocked out of him when she touched down. The hellhound lurched forward and steadied herself with one paw against the roof, then almost hesitantly, her other arm began to ease off. Tap crumpled to a heap beneath her, gasping.

Before he had even recovered, she got in his face and barked, “I right outside the whole time! Why you not call for help, pony?!”

A second face hung down beside hers, snarling at Tap. He recoiled, but Leaf just rolled her eyes and stood upright. There were still ghouls hanging from her by their teeth and forelegs. She casually ran her claws down her back and shoulders, shearing them off and flinging their shredded remains aside. Tap rolled to his hooves, considering taking a smaller hit of dash to relieve some of the comedown.

“Could have died, pony,” Leaf scolded from behind him. He was about to tell her off, but then she added, “Don’t want bad to happen to you. You my friend.”

Out of nowhere, an overwhelming sense of guilt clouded his thoughts. He glanced back at her, then down at the concrete, sighing. “I’m sorry. I’m not really used to working with a partner that can actually bail me out like that.”

Leaf took a few steps closer, and she smiled when he met her gaze. “It okay, pony.” She rested her paw on his head, one claw gently scratching behind his ear. “Just remember for next time.”

Just as Tap began to close his eyes and lean into the scratching, it abruptly stopped.

He opened his eyes to look back up at Leaf, but she was nowhere to be found. The world around him was somehow different; cleaner, and more vibrant. He turned as he searched for her, looking over the side of the building. All of the overgrowth had vanished. The sidewalks were lined with produce stands and full of ponies in suits and dresses. Passenger carriages rolled up and down the street. Tap looked up, toward the apartment on the other side of the street, and saw Lady Luck grinning back at him. She tilted her muzzle skyward and spread her forelegs. The mountainside lit up with blinding flashes.

When his vision returned, he found himself standing where he had started, and the world around him had returned to its crumbling, washed out state. Leaf stood at his side once more, with her paw still resting on his head. He was about to ask her to keep scratching when a quiet giggle reached his ears. At the same time, something moved in the corner of his vision. His eyes shifted to follow, and for a moment he could see Glade Skimmer standing at the edge of the roof. She smiled and gestured toward the enormous building that stood several blocks behind her, her hoof waving just below the trio of weather-worn butterflies that adorned it.

A hospital.

Tap blinked and Skimmer was gone, reduced to ashes on the breeze. Her laughter echoed in his ears.

“You smell something burning, pony?” Leaf whispered.

Double Tap sniffled quietly and rubbed a fetlock across his eyes. Before he could comment, the sound of feathers against the air hailed Paharita’s arrival. Disappointed, he looked over at the griffon. She was fully visible when she landed, which meant either her stealth buck had run out of juice or she had deemed it unnecessary while in flight.

“Leaf Marine that was so wicked awesome!” Rita bobbed and shook her balled claws as she spoke, grinning around her beak. “The way you just ripped through them like they were made of paper!”

Leaf smiled and shrugged. “Was nothing special.”

Rita raised a brow as she turned her attention to Tap. “And what happened with you, back there? You can’t handle some mutant ponies all the sudden?”

“Are you shitting me?!” He furrowed his brow and stomped. “There were dozens of the fuckers chasing me! I almost fucking died!”

“Well,” Rita began, smirking, “I guess it’s a good thing you were too much of a wuss to shoot Leaf Marine when she wanted you to after all.”

Leaf snickered and added, “This true!”

Tap sneered and shook his head, too angry for words. He looked to the hospital in the distance again. “So Leaf could have led us right to Raspberry Tart, but the streets are pretty much overrun right now because one of us couldn’t avoid setting off a fucking trap.” Rita started to retort, but he gave her a telekinetic shove.

“If all the old apartments and shops are as shitty as the one I tried to hold out in, I doubt she set up camp in one of them. Wherever she is, it’s probably big enough that at least some of it is still intact, so that she could barricade herself inside it to keep the ghouls out.” He pointed a hoof toward the hospital. “I wanna check that place out.”

He let his hoof drop, then glanced to his companions. Leaf nodded idly, sniffing in the direction of the building he had pointed out. Rita gave him a skeptical look, one brow raised. At any moment, she was likely to voice her disapproval.

“Do you have any better ideas, empress?” he muttered, hoping to beat her to the punch.

Rita rolled her eyes and shrugged. “We’ve already wasted a whole lot of time already, so I guess trying your dumb idea won’t make too big a difference.” She spread her wings and gave a few flaps. With a wiggle of her rump, she took to the air. “Good luck getting over there, though.” She stuck out her tongue, and then fluttered off into the distance.

“Fucking asshole,” he snorted. He sighed and trotted up next to Leaf. The street below was squirming with hissing, growling ghouls. After a moment, he mumbled, “Hey uh… could you give me a ride?”

|[BAR]|[ /_\ ]|[o8- ]|

Entering the hospital at street level would have been a monumentally bad decision. There weren’t quite as many ghouls crowded around the entrances as there had been on the street near the air raid siren, but ghouls almost seemed to behave as a singular organism. If one ghoul tried to follow them in, the rest would very quickly do the same.

This was rendered a non-issue by Leaf Marine’s exceptional agility. With Tap clinging to her back, she had leapt from rooftop to rooftop, getting closer to the hospital with every bound. The hospital itself was not a single building, but several interlinked structures of varying heights and widths. Long ago, the pillars and archways decorating the exterior might have been very extravagant, but time had not been kind to these decorations. Rather than try to land on a balcony or one of the lower sections of the hospital’s roofs, Leaf had opted to cling to the side of one of the buildings, her claws sinking into weathered concrete without any real difficulty.

Double Tap climbed over her shoulders and through a window. He stood at the end of a long, dark hallway. The light of the setting sun filtered in behind him as columns of light that glowed a golden orange. He knew that window frame wasn’t nearly large enough to accommodate Leaf, but he also knew that wouldn’t be a problem. He took a step back, and her claws raked through concrete, rebar and plaster until the hole was wide enough for her to crawl through. Once again, the height of the ceiling forced her to crouch.

“Ponies bad at construction,” she muttered, her ears and mane flattened against a light fixture.

Tap snickered and shrugged. “I don’t think they had hellho— dogs in mind when they built this place.”

From behind Leaf, he heard the sound of flapping wings. Paharita peered around Leaf without getting too close to her. “I think I saw her on one of the other roof tops while I was circling the place.”

“What do you mean you think?” Tap asked. “Did you see her or not?”

“I dunno, I didn’t exactly swoop in for a closer look!” Rita waved a claw at him. “Anyway it was on the roof with the great big pool.”

“What’s pool,” Leaf idly murmured.

“It’s like a swimming hole,” Tap answered.

Leaf gasped quietly, eyes widening. “I hate swimming.”

Tap squinted and cocked a brow. “For real?”

“I almost drown in drinking reservoir when I was pup!”

“Can this wait?!” Rita interrupted. “If we’re gonna nab her today then let’s just get it over with! I’m tired of being so poor that I have to wander around behind a hellhound.”

Leaf and Tap exchanged glances, and then Leaf began to sniff. “Trail not fresh.” She gestured toward a hoof print in the dust. “But sock-pony definitely been here.”

She slouched forward onto all fours to continue sniffing, but her sniffs soon turned to snorts, and then she began to paw at her nose. Tap ducked into a doorway just as her whole body jolted with a sneeze. He snickered and raised a brow at her, to which she responded by wiping her nose and shrugging. Rita groaned in frustration, but didn’t seem to want to try squeezing past Leaf. That suited Tap just fine, as he didn’t want Rita to stumble into any more traps and risk hurting herself or giving away their position.

Visibility dwindled as they ventured deeper and deeper into the ancient hospital, its catacomb-like passages illuminated only by the glow of Tap’s horn, the screen of Rita’s pipbuck, and the increasingly infrequent rays of sunlight that shone through windows or collapsed walls. Every so often, they came across a skeleton or two; some sprawled out, others in the fetal position, or clinging to one another even in death. There were occasional ghoul corpses as well, though not nearly as many as there had been on the way into the city. They had been dealt with exclusively through brute force delivered via hoof, or the creative use of trip wires and heavy objects with sharp points.

Eventually, they came to a reception area with a faded map of the hospital painted next to a directory on the wall. Rita spent a few minutes studying it, holding up her pipbuck for reading light. She nodded as she let her forearm drop, the click of her talons echoing.

“We’re looking for the rehabilitation center.” Rita pointed toward the directory, then traced through the air with her talon. “Just follow the green line.”

 

Leaf frowned.

“It’s cool,” Tap offered, gesturing for Leaf to follow.

The section of the hospital devoted to rehabilitation was in no better shape than any of the other dilapidated areas that they had passed through. It was better lit, however, as it had many windows facing toward the sunset. They ascended through a stairwell with shattered bay windows, passing through bands of pink light and deep shadow, while darkness rolled in like a rising tide in their wake. The sun was little more than a glowing sliver on the ridge of the mountainside by the time they emerged onto the roof.

As advertised, there was a long, six lane pool situated in the middle of the roof, though the water had become a sludge of algae and dead leaves after more than two hundred years without cleaning. A dense layer of moss carpeted the edge of the pool, with grass and shrubs sprouting up through cracks in the cement. On the far end, an enormous, pomegranate-red figure reclined in a foldout chair, with a mostly intact umbrella hanging overhead. He didn’t even need to guess that this was Raspberry Tart.

“You could at least have the decency to announce yourselves,” she called, her voice as thick and heavy as she appeared to be. “It’s not as though you’ve been at all discrete on your way here.”

Tap had already drawn his pistol before stepping out into the open, but as he pointed it toward her, Rita put her talon on it and pushed it toward the ground.

“Sheesh, let me at least see if she’ll go peacefully first.”

Rita stepped away from Tap and took to the air, flitting over the pool toward the immense pony on the other side. Tap gave Leaf a sideways glance and sighed, then cautiously made his way around the pool to catch up.

As Tap approached Raspberry Tart, he had a brief moment of nostalgia, recalling a book which his father used to read to him about the exotic animals that inhabited zebra territory. She very much resembled a hippopotamus, not only in mass, but her stature itself seemed to be much larger than that of the typical mare. Somehow, she had managed to stuff herself into the undershirt and coat of a business suit, though her clothing clearly had other plans if the ruptured seams and straining buttons were any indication. Her hindquarters were bare, which allowed him to get a look at her cutie mark. He had been expecting something pastry related, given her namesake and portly build. Instead, her flank bore the image of a wooden mortar and pestle, three green leaves protruding from the rim.

She remained seated, her blue eyes idly sweeping over the three of them, one brow raised beneath her tidy blonde bangs. Her equally well groomed tail gave a single flick, then she leaned toward the drink on the table beside her, sipping through a straw. The chair emitted a mournful creak as her weight settled again.

“So, you must be her errand boy,” she remarked as she looked Tap over. “Now that we’re finally meeting face to face, I suppose I should thank you for all the work you’ve done for me in the past, but, well, seeing as you’re here on business—” She smirked and shrugged, then looked over at Leaf and added, “By the way, Paharita, I never took you for a dog lover. Is she a new acquisition, or were you just waiting for an auspicious occasion such as this to introduce me to your pets?”

“I not pet!” Leaf barked, waving a claw in Raspberry Tart’s direction.

Rita gave Leaf a sideways glance. “She’s totally not my pet.”

“Yeah,” Tap snorted, “me neither!”

Raspberry Tart’s eyes darted to Rita, then Tap, and she stifled a chuckle. “Oh, how precious. Of course you aren’t.”

Rita stepped forward, but attempting to stand over the massive pony was just about impossible. “Alright, Fatty-Fats, I know you know why we’re here.” She grinned, shifting her weight and pointing with one extended talon. “Are you gonna play nice, or are we gonna have to play rough?”

“So that’s what you’ve been calling me behind my back. Well, Paharita darling, are you asking me to just roll over for you?” Raspberry Tart sighed quietly. “I thought our relationship meant more to you than this.”

Rita stuck out her tongue. “Uh, ew.”

“But, if I were to be stabbed in the back by someone who has previously handled my affairs, I would prefer it be done by someone who clearly possesses all the loyalty of a feather in the breeze.” She flashed a toothy grin to Rita, at which point Tap realized that Rita had just been insulted. “Were it anyone else, I might actually be incensed by such a stark betrayal.”

With a roll of her eyes, Rita waved her claw dismissively. “Puh-lease! The only reason you’re insulted is because we didn’t bring any snacks for you!” Rita reared up, putting her claws on her hips. “If you agree to come with us, though, I promise to let you raid the Fancy Colt Snack Cake factory on the way back to Stable Twenty-Nine.”

“Oh, but that’s such a long walk.” Raspberry Tart shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I would much rather stay here.”

“It wasn’t an offer,” Tap muttered.

Raspberry Tart giggled dryly, lifting a thick foreleg to cover her mouth. “Paharita, is it safe to assume that you haven’t trained him to only speak when spoken to?”

Tap furrowed his brow and raised his pistol, only to have Rita slap it down again.

“He’s a little unruly,” Rita answered, snickering. “Anyway, this has been a fun little talk, but you’re coming with us.”

“I must insist on declining, I’m afraid. I’ve grown rather fond of Hollow Shades, and it was so very peaceful before you and your lackeys started stumbling around and upsetting the locals, so if you wouldn’t mind—” She waved one hoof toward the other side of the pool, where they had come in.

This time, when Tap leveled his pistol, Rita did not stop him. Raspberry Tart stared down the barrel at him, her overly-charismatic smile replaced by a look of boredom.  She rolled her eyes and leaned toward her drink again. Tap tilted his pistol and fired, shattering the glass, leaving the straw hanging between her lips.

“Now that,” she said as she closed her eyes and upturned her nose, “was completely uncalled for.”

Her other foreleg, the one she hadn’t used to gesture with, jerked suddenly. Something fell out of the umbrella, making a sound like shattering glass as it struck the concrete. In the split second that it took Tap to reflexively look down, he realized his mistake. A blinding flash and a deafening bang robbed him of his perception, leaving him staggering. As his senses gradually returned, he felt as though he were hearing splashing. He glanced around, and through the blots of color, he could see Leaf Marine yelping and flailing around in the pool. Rita was nowhere to be seen, but he had almost expected that.

Leaf thrashed her way to the edge of the pool before Tap could even do anything to help her. She took enormous chunks out of the cement as she clawed her way up and out. Satisfied that she wasn’t about to drown, Tap struggled to scan the area with his blurry vision, looking for a trace of Raspberry Tart and finding nothing.

“Shit, she’s gone.” He looked to Leaf in time to see her wiping slime out of her face and rubbing her eyes. “You alright?”

“You say something pony?” Leaf whimpered. “Can’t barely see or hear anything!” She stumbled over a folding chair after several awkward steps and growled, “Gonna tear sock-pony apart!” Continuing on all fours, her nose twitching furiously, she paused only briefly at the chair Raspberry had been seated in. Her whole body leaned toward a door to the right like some kind of pointing gesture, then she kept right on sniffing along the floor. “Follow me, pony!”

She was off and running before he could argue against her taking the lead.

Tap galloped in Leaf’s wake as she barreled down the dusty corridors on all fours. All the caution she had displayed on her way to the hospital had been cast aside now that she had a fresh trail and a reason to be furious. He assumed that she was making an effort to check for traps, or that her senses had at least returned enough to allow her to detect traps. These assessments were quickly dismissed as she stepped onto a sheet spread across the floor and fell right through. She scrambled up out of the hole, snarling, shreds of the sheet tangled around her, and kept right on going despite Tap’s protests. A few twists and turns later, she plowed through a door and got herself sprayed with buckshot. The pellets hardly slowed her down. Neither did a centrifuge turned flechette gun, the needles bouncing harmlessly off of Leaf’s tough hide.

Just as Tap began to feel confident that none of the traps could halt Leaf’s pursuit, he was again proven wrong. When he noticed the bed frames strapped to the ceiling above where Leaf was about to step, he had assumed that they would simply fall on her, but when she snapped the trip wire holding the trap at bay, only one side of it came down. The free falling side was weighted with circular weights, and the thing came swinging into her like some kind of improvised, inverted mouse trap. If she had been a pony, or somehow less durable, he had no doubt that the legs of the bed posts would have impaled her and possibly killed her instantly. Instead, Leaf was pinned up against the wall, cracks radiating out from the imprint she had left in the plaster. She groaned and struggled to push the bed frames away, looking more miserable than angry.

Tap gritted his teeth, leaning closer to the sprung trap and the hellhound behind it. “Uh… do you need help?”

“You go on ahead, pony,” she said breathlessly, shaking her head. “Sock-pony real close. I catch up when I get second wind.”

He nodded and turned away, continuing on with a much greater degree of care.

A sort of humming sound reverberated through the walls as Tap crept down the hall. There were no more traps in his path, only an open door, and a flood of light that stretched toward his hooves. He caught a glimpse of Raspberry as she stepped around some kind of barrier, but did not hasten his pace. This turned out to be a wise decision. A thin line of wire spanned the doorframe, just about at neck level. Had he been charging, his momentum would have caused the wire to slice his throat, or potentially take his head right off. He gave it a telekinetic tug, just to make sure there wasn’t some other secondary function to the wire, and then swiftly ducked under it.

The room he had stepped into was lit by a series of fluorescent lights set into the high ceiling. Dust clung to the walls and mostly blanketed the tile, corrupting the sterile look of the place to more of a dingy grey. In addition to multiple fresh hoof prints and scuff marks, there was a discolored spot in the middle of the floor, as though something had been there, but recently moved. Suspended above that was the source of the humming. It appeared to be an enormous, off-white tube, held aloft by several mechanical arms so that the circular opening pointed toward the floor. Just behind that, he spotted an observation window. Raspberry Tart grinned and lazily waved her hoof from behind it. The barrier he had seen her duck behind was actually the far wall, interrupted by a door that no doubt led up to the observation room.

“My, aren’t you persistent.” She giggled dryly, and Tap went for the door. “Now now, I’ll be down to see you in just a moment, but first—” The hum of the device in the center of the room began to intensify. “You magic users have such an unfair advantage. What say we level the playing field, hmm?”

Tap wheeled around, the humming sound rattling his clenched teeth, and began to get a sensation as though he were being pulled. Not him, exactly, but his clothing. He glanced down as he felt his pistol rattling in its holster, the many knives concealed by his sweater vibrating against his coat. The hum reached a fever pitch, so overwhelming that he couldn’t even think straight. Suddenly, the buttons and zipper began to pop off of his jacket, flying across the room and vanishing up the tube with a series of loud pings.

There was no time to run. Realizing what was to come next, he swung himself around, forelegs extended toward the machine. The back and sides of his jacket erupted into a storm of knives, his sleeves reduced to tatters as sharpened strips of metal were wrenched away from his body. His entire bandoleer was next, taking all his dash inhalers, grenades, spare magazines with it. The forty-five, holster and all, was stripped from him as well, disappearing into the tube. Seconds later, the tube muffled a quick succession of blasts, belching out fire and shrapnel as it crashed to the floor. His grenades had gone off inside the device.

“Do you have any idea how long it took me to set all of those traps?” Raspberry droned over the intercom. “You could have at least had the consideration to be wounded by one of them on your way here.” She sighed, then lifted some sort of flask to her lips, downing the contents in several gulps. “Oh well. It’s of no real consequence. You traveled this far to find me, so I shan’t disappoint.”

The door he had come in through slid closed, hissing softly. She stepped away from the window, and he could hear her coming down the stairs soon after.

It was plain to see that the force of the blast had demolished his pistol and his dash inhalers, and many of his knives had been reduced to scrap metal, but there were still a fair amount that appeared to have some use left in them. He gathered them up with his levitation, making them orbit his head with the points facing outward.

The very instant that Raspberry emerged, he shouted, “This ain’t a social call, lady! I’m gonna fuck you up if you don’t give up in the next few seconds!”

She began practically strutting toward him, smiling as she purred, “Such harsh language! Where are your manners, darling? I had hoped Paharita would have at least educated you in basic etiquette.”

Raspberry canted her head to one side then jerked it to the other, cracking what sounded like the entire length of her spine mid stride, her tail snapping at the air in her wake.

“But don’t you worry.” Her eyes narrowed, her toothy grin widening. “I’ll be sure to teach you some respect.”

Her grin vanished and she broke into a charge. The floor shook so violently under her hooves that Tap wondered if it would collapse under her and spare him the effort. It did not. He snorted, leapt a few steps back, and sent his knives whistling her way, one after another. They hit their marks, striking her knees and shoulders in places that he thought would cripple her, and then he had a very unpleasant flashback to his fight with Leaf Marine. His eyes widened as more than half of the knives simply fell away, shaken off by the rolling motion of her body. She didn’t even bleed and she certainly didn’t slow down.

Ducking to the side as she came barreling up to him was not enough; she pivoted on her forehooves and swung her entire back end toward him, forcing Tap into the air. The wall audibly cracked as her hip collided with it, blowing up a cloud of dust below him. He landed on the other side of her, stepping right into a gallop and making for the door he had come in through. Without any dash in his system, he struggled to reassess the situation. Raspberry was unarmed, but he had seen how her hide was somehow tough enough to render his knives ineffective. Initially, his rationalization was that she was too fat for the knives to penetrate, but he quickly realized how stupid a conclusion that was.

Either way, the odds were not even close to being in his favor.

The door refused to yield to his hooves as he pushed and pulled, trying to slide it back open, but failing to budge it any visible amount. The door controls were, he assumed, in the observation room overlooking the area. He pushed himself away from the wall as he felt the floor rattling again, skidding to a stop close to the center of the room. To his surprise, she slowed to a canter, marching right up to him without any sign of hesitation. It would be easy to reach the controls and open the door, but she was so big that she could just as easily corner him in the process.

“Far be it of me to critique your performance,” Raspberry chided as she stepped across cracked ceramic tile, approaching him once more, “but my time is rather valuable, so I do ask that you take this encounter seriously.”

Tap spread his stance a little wider. Incapacitating her was the only way out.

When Raspberry stepped into range, he reared up, slid one hind back, and came across with a right hook. Her head was still swinging as he caught her uppermost chin with an uppercut, lifting her head with the force of the blow. Her body followed in recoil, forelegs briefly rising up off the ground, but she did not topple. Instead, she heaved her weight forward. Her forehead came crashing down against his muzzle. Tap staggered back, stars in his eyes and blood gushing from his nose. The floor shook as Raspberry threw herself into another charge.

Hoping that her eyes weren’t as durable as her skin, Tap went for his knives again. Raspberry skidded to a stop when he darted past her, whipping him across the cheek with her tail. He winced it off and kept going, meeting her sideways glance while he gathered up a swirling cloud of sharpened metal. Her head dipped to avoid the first knife, deflecting the second with a raised foreleg. He needed to get closer. The knives kept flying at her face, forcing her to stay on defense, but she turned to counter his advance. The floor shuddered with each step as she distributed her weight between three legs. At the very least, he realized that he could stall her like this until Leaf Marine arrived.

Raspberry had other plans. She reared up as he managed to step in front of her, then her hooves dropped like lead. Tap lunged back, feeling the aftershock of the impact. The cracks in the tile nearly reached him even from several paces away. He didn’t give her a chance to recover. Their eyes met as for a split second as Tap raced toward her, his horn glowing. Raspberry grunted and recoiled as he cast his flash spell, raising her foreleg defensively. He leapt over her head and landed on her back. For all her bulk, her hide felt strangely dense and firm under his hooves. He whipped his knives down against her, trying to gouge her squinting eyes and meeting nothing but her forelegs as she shook furiously in an attempt to throw him off.

Her head dropped nearly to the floor, and then, with a roar, her posture shifted drastically under him. Tap threw his forelegs around her neck as she rose up on her hind legs, but she kept going, leaning farther and farther back. He bristled as her intent dawned on him. Now nearly parallel with the floor, Tap simultaneously kicked and telekinetically shoved himself out from under her, just narrowly avoiding being crushed under her back. As she hit the floor, the shockwave nearly knocked the wind out of him. His ears continued to ring, but his vision stopped shaking just in time to see the jets of steam snorting out of Raspberry’s nose, a furious look across her face. Tap was first to his hooves, scrambling away from the crater she had made to find a knife before she could follow his example. His search became increasingly desperate as he heard her grunting, heaving herself back upright, and then shaking bits of tile out of her coat.

Tap stepped back into the fight with a pair of knives floating on either side of him. Raspberry was waiting, holding herself up on her elephantine hind legs, forehooves raised protectively around her face. She breathed heavily, growling with every exhale, but she wasn’t showing any signs of fatigue. Tap strafed to her left, slashing and stabbing for her eyes and throat, blocked by a broad sweep of her foreleg. He ducked right to avoid a swing, and tried again on her other side. She had anticipated it. Her hoof flew on a collision course with his face and without dash in his system there wasn’t enough time or momentum on his side to evade. Tap brought up his forelegs and braced. A searing pain rippled up his legs and through his entire torso. It took him a moment to realize that the blow had sent him sliding back, and his forelegs went completely limp as his brain processed the sheer amount of blunt force they had just absorbed.

He was given no quarter. Raspberry came stampeding toward him, and he threw his aching forelegs around her neck to avoid being trampled, just barely managing to hang on. She kept going, and as he struggled to piece together a plan, he noticed the far wall getting farther and farther away. He glanced back just in time to get a face full of plaster.

The next several seconds were little more than a garbled blur for Tap. When his senses returned to a degree of functionality, he was greeted by the sight of Raspberry’s forehooves bearing down on him. Tap twisted to one side, narrowly avoiding getting his head smashed in. His teeth were still rattling when she lifted her heavy hoof to try again. He jerked his head as close to her grounded hoof as he could, wincing as her second attempted stomp scraped fur and skin off the side of his cheek. His eyes struggled to come back into focus, vision blurred anew from the sheer weight and power behind her strikes. He tried to squirm out from between her forelegs, but his hinds were pinned all the way to the hocks by her gut. She was far too heavy to move with his magic. The way she leered down at him confirmed that she knew he was at her mercy. Her forehooves squeezed against the sides of her head as she leaned forward, tensing up, and then she reared with him still in her grasp.

Double Tap briefly felt weightless. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fell back, trying to brace for impact. His mind went completely blank as she slammed him down, the back of his head crashing against the pulverized tile. He couldn’t see straight, he could barely hear anything, and he was too dazed to even think. Her blurry hoof hovered over his face.

Glade Skimmer appeared above Tart’s fuzzy silhouette, clear as day, hooves clasped to her chest.

“I’m sorry,” Tap whispered, closing his eyes.

A strained, gurgling scream broke through the buzz in his ears. His eyes snapped open involuntarily, every muscle in his body suddenly tensing to an agonizing degree, his lungs and heart seizing in his chest. Raspberry tilted to one side, then toppled completely, legs sticking straight out. The motion forcefully knocked Tap away from her, and just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Tap went completely limp, gasping. Raspberry continued to scream, getting increasingly shrill until she went completely silent. He rolled his head toward her, seeing that she had also gone limp, her chest heaving as she squirmed on the floor. A pair of claws stepped over him, accompanied by a fuzzy, feline underbelly.

“Jeeze,” Paharita sighed, “do I have to do everything for you?” She raised one of her claws as Raspberry struggled to get back to her hooves. “Whoops! Looks like she’s not a one and done kinda girl.”

In her raised claw was a black, plastic gun with the word CAUTION and an image of a lightning bolt on the side. She pulled the trigger and he heard a sharp zap, followed by a crackle. Raspberry began to convulse again, rocking on her bulky side. He could faintly see the barbs sticking out of Raspberry’s chest, connected by thin wires to the plastic gun in Rita’s claw.

“I can keep this up all day, Fatty-Fats,” Rita shouted triumphantly. “I’ve got a full battery and spares!”

Tap went from relieved to furious in the blink of an eye. “You didn’t think to use that when she was sitting in the fucking chair you feathery piece of shit?!”

Rita stepped away from him, lifting her beak snobbishly. “Well excuuuse me, princess!”

“She just beat the piss out of me you fucking idiot!” He thrashed on the floor, heaving himself onto his side and swinging a foreleg at her. “Where were you with that fucking taser?!”

“The plan was to see if she would come along quietly, not run off after her!” Rita waggled a talon at him, the taser swinging wildly in her grasp as she did. “Since you and bonehead decided to chase her, instead of regrouping, I had to rewire the door and wait for an opportunity to step in where she couldn’t stomp me into griffon paste.”

“What the fuck ever!” He shakily tried to roll back onto his hooves, stumbling forward as his left foreleg gave out at an unpleasant angle. “I think my leg might be broken,” he grunted through clenched teeth. “Where’s Leaf Marine?”

“I here, pony,” Leaf muttered from nearby. He looked in the direction of her voice, meeting her gaze through the enormous hole Raspberry had made in the wall. “Sorry I late. Got hurt more than I thought.”

The section of wall around the hole crumbled as her claws sheared through, the hellhound crouching through the freshly widened opening. She had wrapped her right thigh and forearm in bandages, stained a soft red, doing her best to keep her weight off her right leg as she came closer. Once she was beside him, she offered a healing potion, which Tap accepted without hesitation.

“Thought you were going to kill sock-pony,” she whispered. “What happen?”

Tap’s response was interrupted, first by the sharp pains caused by the mending of his foreleg, and again as Raspberry groaned in agony. Rita stood over her, grinning wickedly while she tased Raspberry for the third time. Raspberry’s head hit the ground, forelegs weakly scraping against the floor.

“You’re not getting away that easily,” Rita teased. Raspberry muttered something as Rita began tying her legs, and Rita burst out laughing. “A safeword? How’s this for a safeword: Butterball!”

“Killing her didn’t work out,” he grumbled, pushing himself up off the floor.

Leaf raised a brow. “What about deal, pony? You say I could eat sock-pony after you kill her.”

Tap shrugged. Leaf narrowed her eyes and stood up as much as she could, making her way over to Rita.

“I made deal,” she began. Rita cut her off.

“Sure sure, I just need to finish tying up Princess Porker here!” She tied a knot around Raspberry’s hinds, then pulled another length of rope out of her duffel bag and went to work binding Raspberry’s forelegs. “Thank you so much for helping us, Leaf Marine. I had to admit it, but that dumb idiot was right about how useful you would be.”

Leaf appeared somewhat embarrassed by the compliment, covering her muzzle with both paws, her tail wagging excitedly. “Thank you, griffon. You don’t need to tie up sock-pony, though. I eat her fine like this.”

Rita stopped what she was doing and glanced up at Leaf. “Whad’ya mean eat her? You’re not eating her!”

“It okay,” Leaf said, smiling and pointing a claw toward Raspberry’s increasingly panic stricken face. “I leave the head so you and pony can turn it in for capes.”

“I strongly object to being eaten alive,” Raspberry Tart weakly chimed, writhing on the floor.

“Yeah, just because I said something nice doesn’t mean you get to call shots like that. You are definitely not eating my big, fat, golden goose here.” Rita patted Raspberry on the flank. “Anyway, this has been kinda fun I guess, buuuuut—” When Rita had finished tying Raspberry’s forelegs, she turned toward Tap, drawing the Punchline and holding it out for him. “Would you please do the honors so that we can put all this behind us?”

Tap stomped, nearly losing his balance. “I’m not going to fucking shoot her, Rita!”

“Did you hear that, Leaf Marine?” she exclaimed with feigned shock. “Sounds like a breach of contract to me!”

“I don’t want pony to kill me anymore, griffon” she calmly replied. “Made up mind when I watch stars with pony. Want to stay alive, see world outside valley. Maybe more dogs out there.” She shrugged, leaning toward Raspberry. “And deal change, too. Now deal is I help you and pony, then I eat sock-pony and leave head.”

“That is appallingly barbaric,” Raspberry murmured, then gave Rita a sideways glance. “I can see why she’s traveling with the likes of you.”

Rita swatted Leaf across the nose, shouting, “No way!” She reared up between Leaf and Raspberry with her wings at their full span. Leaf did not seem the least bit intimidated, baring her teeth and flexing her claws. Rita flashed a nervous smile. “That wasn’t his deal to make ‘cause he and I are partners and we already agreed to take her in alive.”

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, pony,” Leaf growled, shooting Tap a cold stare.

“So, yeah, sorry! You’re not eating her,” she said as she shrugged in Leaf’s direction, then swung a talon toward Tap, adding, “And you’re not killing her!” Rita sat down on Raspberry’s side, crossing her hind legs. “We’re all going to get some shut-eye, and tomorrow, we’re heading up to Stable Twenty-Nine for one heck of a payout.”

“If your attire is any indication, you’re in desperate need of the blood money my live capture would grant you.” She smirked, upturning her nose. “Such a shame, then, that I must again refuse.”

Rita snickered. “Is that a good idea in your position?” she sang.

“You may be seated upon me, but you are all still so far below me that you may well be lowly insects in the presence of Celestia herself.” Raspberry shrugged. “Besides, there are few things I can imagine that are worse than your mournfully poor excuses for knots, having your repulsively greasy fur on my immaculate coat, or having to entertain your brainless goons with physical violence.”

Paharita rolled her eyes and gave Tap a bored look. Tap snorted and limped up to Tart, levitating a knife out of Rita’s claw. Raspberry peered over at him casually, even as he brought the knife to her backside.

This time, when he pressed down, the knife sank into her hide with startling ease. He blinked, bringing the crimson tip up, and stabbing into her again just to be sure it wasn’t a fluke. Her skin had inexplicably and dramatically softened between his fight with her and that moment. Raspberry  flinched every time he poked into her with the point of the knife, but made no attempt to squirm away.

“And this is when he’s not even feeling creative.” Rita cooed. “Imagine what he could do if he hooked up the leads from the taser to the blade of the knife.”

Raspberry chuckled deeply, her middle quivering under Rita. “If you were more than a collection of mediocre amateurs, that might actually qualify as a threat.” Tap whipped the knife down right into her gut. Even as her blood began to ooze around the blade, she did little more than grit her teeth and narrow her eyes. “But truthfully, you’re more likely to kill me than you are to motivate me. There’s not a thing you can do to alter my decision, and so, you may as well execute me like the petty thugs you are. My deepest condolences for your stunted payout.”

Rita sighed, retrieved another length of rope, and set about the task of gagging Rasperry with it. Tap lifted the knife again, levitating it toward Raspberry’s throat as she resisted, but Rita shook her head sternly and pushed it away. They glared at one another for several seconds, until Tap noticed the grip of the Punchline sticking out of Rita’s jacket. His horn started to glow, but her claw swiftly covered what he could see of it.

“Fine! You don’t wanna walk, whatevs.” Rita shoved the Punchline deeper into her jacket, then went back to tying. “Leaf Marine, you’re gonna carry her for us.”

“What?” Leaf leaned toward Rita, ears folded back. “Is that joke, griffon?”

Rita’s resolve broke, and she glanced around anxiously, shrinking behind Raspberry. “You could lift her up no problem!”

Leaf barked, “Why I carry sock-pony? You have pony right there!” She gestured to Tap.

Tap glanced between Leaf and Raspberry several times. “Leaf, I can’t carry her. She’s too heavy.”

“Not my problem,” Leaf scoffed, putting her paws on her hips.

“Why not,” he asked, squinting up at her. “You carried me here on your back!”

“That different! You friend!” She crossed her arms, frowning down at him. “Sock-pony not friend and I not beast of burden!”

It had become obvious that the situation was at a standstill. Tap put a hoof to his forehead and sighed. “I’m so fucking done with this. Let’s just kill her, give Leaf her body, and take her head back to the Stable.”

“Let me ask you something,” Rita said as she propped her head up with one claw. “Do you like living in Tenpony, with hot, running water and comfy beds and food that was cooked by someone who actually knows what they’re doing?” Without waiting for him to respond, she continued. “Well, if we don’t bring her in alive, you can kiss all that goodbye, because we don’t have enough to renew the lease.”

“Shit.” Tap turned back toward Leaf. “Okay, what about this… if you carry Raspberry Tart for us, we’ll talk to the ponies at Stable Twenty-Nine and see if they’ll let you eat her when they’re done with her.”

Leaf shook her head. “No, I not gonna carry sock-pony. Home gone, pack gone, all I have left is my dignity. Dogs no carry things like work horses, understand?”

Suddenly, Rita sprang up on her hind legs. “Okay! Forget your deal with him since he obviously can’t make good on it. I got a new one for you!” Tap sneered and folded back his ears, but observed curiously, as did Leaf. “So, you wanna eat this pony here, who is admittedly pretty juicy looking—”

Rita paused as Leaf nodded eagerly, while Raspberry grunted and flopped under her.

“Well, normally I would just fly home, but with the Enclave hovering around and the cloud ceiling gone, that’s a little risky!” She raised both claws, waving them just below her beak. “What if you escort me back to my workshop, so that I can make something to carry Raspberry Tart for us, and then when we deliver her to the Stable I’ll ask them if they’ll let you eat her later. There’s some stuff I’ve been meaning to scavenge anyway, and most bandits and raiders would think twice about attacking a hellhound, so you’d make a perfect scarecrow while I do it!”

Leaf Marine scrunched her lips from one side to the other, studying Rita. “And you honor this deal?”

“Let me put it this way; those ponies are really mad at her. I don’t think they’re offering such a big reward if they’re just gonna slap her on the fetlocks, stick her in a cell, and call it even.” Rita grinned. “If I rub them the right way, they might even let you eat her alive as punishment. Heck, if they agree to that, I might get in on it with you.” She leaned a little closer to Raspberry’s face, meeting Raspberry’s furious glare with her own twisted grin. “I’ve always wondered how you would taste, Fatty-Fats.”

Tap felt overwhelmingly uncomfortable.

“Okay,” Leaf said as she licked her lips. “Okay we have deal! Don’t wanna wait till morning!”

Rita smiled, nodding. “We’ll have the cover of darkness on our side, too! You may be a flea bitten monster, but you’re honestly not so bad past that.”

Stepping forward, Double Tap muttered, “Sure, who needs sleep. We’re just going to leave her here while we go back to the workshop, though? What if some ghoul comes by and eats her? Or someone else finds her and they haul her back while we’re gone?”

Instead of an immediate answer, Rita started to giggle. “Oh, no, silly, you’re not coming with us. You’re going to stay here and guard her until we get back.”

Tap blinked once as Rita kissed him on the cheek. “Wh—”

“Stay here and keep sock-pony safe, okay pony?” Leaf waved an enormous claw in his face in a worryingly Rita-like fashion. “Don’t kill her, either! Want her to be fresh! Taste better that way!”

“Ready when you are,” Rita called from the hallway. “Oh, and one more thing!” She leaned into the doorway and said, “Do not listen to anything Tubbo has to say! Not one word! Keep her gagged and feed her through a straw!” Without any further explanation, she vanished back through the door and shouted, “Come on, poochie!”

Leaf glanced back and nodded, then smiled and gently scratched behind Tap’s ear. “Be good, pony.”

She bounded off, squeezing through the doorway and out of sight. In seconds, the sounds of his companions became echoes, and then nothing. He looked back to Raspberry Tart, her nose wrinkled, her brow furrowed and twitching.

“Fuck my life.”

|[o’o ]|[o8- ]|[ /_\ ]|

Chapter 11 - Unqualified Personnel

Chapter Eleven – Unqualified Personnel

|[(  ) ]|[(  ) ]|[ /_\ ]|

Double Tap stood in the middle of a dim and dusty room, dumbfounded. He went over the facts to try and get a handle of the situation. Paharita and Leaf Marine had seemingly bolted, leaving him without food, supplies, or weapons of any kind. The city surrounding the abandoned hospital in which he currently stood, and the forest beyond that, was teeming with mindless, flesh eating ghouls. To top it all off, just a few paces ahead of him was Raspberry Tart, the mare that had disarmed and nearly beaten him to death less than five minutes ago. Rita had at least bound and gagged Raspberry before abandoning him. The little bit of light spilling through the hole that Raspberry had made in the wall was the only thing keeping the room from being as pitch black as the rest of the hospital.

Raspberry lay on her side, staring daggers at him from her place on the floor. Tap stared back, still as a statue. Her eyes harbored a cold, blue intensity that the roundness of her face and figure did nothing to soften. The smug confidence he witnessed earlier had been stripped away, replaced with a tensed expression that screamed ruthless and predatory. Tied up or not, he made sure to keep his distance, scanning his peripheral vision for sharp objects. This being a hospital, they were situated in some kind of stock room. Most of the shelves had been knocked over, lying across one another like toppled dominoes. Cartons and boxes of all sizes lay scattered across the floor, but none of them seemed to hold anything particularly useful.

How the fuck am I supposed to keep her here without a gun, he asked himself. How the fuck am I supposed to protect myself from her?

In the back of his mind lingered the hope that this was all a very poorly conceived prank and that if he waited long enough, Rita and Leaf would spring into view and laugh. He stayed rooted to the spot until he couldn’t bear it any longer. Quick, anxious glances to the doorway turned into backpedaling. He kept Raspberry in his line of sight until he felt his rump press against the cold, chipped wall behind him. The hallway was a dark abyss. It took a moment for him to remember how to cast a proper illumination spell. Soon, a bubble of light expanded on the tip of his horn. Tap took a deep breath and leaned out into the hallway. His hopes that Rita and Leaf would be there waiting, snickering under their breath, were immediately dashed.

What was waiting for him were six dash inhalers, three cans of beans, and three cans of green peas, discarded amidst the paw prints on the dust-caked floor. A single, yellow post-it note had been slapped on one of the cans, displaying a crude drawing of Rita giving a thumbs up. Tap sneered.

“Fucking bullshit,” he muttered as he scooped up the meager supplies. “I hate peas.”

Discouraged and angry, he stomped back into the room where he had left Raspberry. The moment he entered, she locked eyes with him again, sending prickles up the back of his neck with her piercing stare. She had visibly moved, leaving wide path where she had scooted through the dust. Tap swallowed and strafed around her, until she couldn’t see him past her own bulk. He darted through the hole in the wall and scrambled to gather up some knives. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Raspberry inching her way across the floor like some kind of massive caterpillar. With a dozen strips of sharp metal hovering around his face, Tap felt much more confident. He strolled right up to her and pushed a hoof into her gut. She whipped her head toward him, eyes narrowed.

“Cut that shit out. You’re not going anywhere.”

He could see her jaw clenching against the ropes that gagged her. She snorted and turned her nose up at him, haughty as ever.

“Yeah, great. I know you think you’re better than me or whatever.” She gave him a bored, sideways glance, and he continued. “I may want to keep living in Tenpony, but—”

Raspberry rolled her eyes and shifted away from him, nearly dragging Tap’s hoof with her.

There was no doubt in his mind that keeping Raspberry under control was going to be a monumental task. He sighed and made for the far wall. It was too dark to find a more defensible place to hole up, and he was still sore and exhausted from his earlier struggle. This meant forcing Raspberry to do anything but lay there seemed like far too much work for the time being. Staving off mental exhaustion was an easy fix, at least. Double Tap levitated one of the dash inhalers to his lips and squeezed as gently as he could. A puff of amphetamines whispered over his tongue, so slight that he barely even tasted it. It was enough. His vision sharpened and rekindled alertness was not far behind. He eased off of the wall and shifted his weight from hoof to hoof. Everything still ached, but standing in one place all night was not an option.

Tap trotted around the edge of the room, keeping plenty of distance between himself and Raspberry’s mostly motionless form. He returned to the examination room that Raspberry had trapped him in, occasionally peering through the hole in the wall to make sure she was still there. Raspberry Tart remained where he had left her. From her brief and violent introduction, he sincerely doubted that she had given up. She was either asleep or waiting for a better opportunity. He stayed by the hole for a moment longer, then ascended to the control room, where he had seen her down the contents of a flask. It was still there, standing neatly on a dusty, glowing terminal. He levitated it closer and sniffed the mouth of the vessel. A flat, earthy aroma filled his nose.

I wonder, he mused, peering into, and then holding the flask upside down over his tongue.

A few droplets splashed against Tap’s tongue, the taste somewhere between tooth paste and stone. He swallowed. All at once, a shiver ran through him, starting at his mouth and reaching every fleshy part of his body. It reminded him of drinking a healing potion, only this left him feeling very tense. He lifted a foreleg with no difficulty, despite the sensation of stiffness. Two steps remained in testing his theory. The first was putting his teeth to his own hide, biting a spot on his raised fetlock. The skin barely budged. He bit down harder, but felt barely anything, and left no marks. Without a moment’s hesitation, he brought one of the knives to his skin, poking and prodding. The tip seemed incapable of penetrating at first, and then, just as suddenly as it had happened, the tension left his body. His skin softened against the blade, a spot of blood welling up where he had inadvertently pricked himself.

“Son of a bitch,” Tap announced, his suspicion confirmed as he nursed the cut.

|[o’o ]|[o8- ]|[BAR]|

Sunlight filtered through some kind of crack along the seam where the wall met the ceiling. With no nearby windows to check, Double Tap couldn’t be sure what time of day was allowing for this sort of illuminative penetration, but light was light. Raspberry had definitely fallen asleep at some point. For such an immense mare, her snore was jarringly dainty. Tap envied her. He had been awake for an indeterminately long stretch of time, and even with the occasional amphetamine pick-me-up, he had reached the point where he was starting to feel sluggish. Shaking himself off, Tap followed one of his many hoofprint trails through the dust, breaching the one yard minimum safe zone around the dormant pomegranate volcano that was Raspberry Tart.

A carton of medical face shields dropped unceremoniously out of his levitation field and landed squarely on the side of Raspberry’s face. Her eye snapped open, pupil contracting and brow furrowing. A heartbeat later, she had fixed her cold stare on Tap.

“We’re moving,” he flatly stated. “And I know you don’t have any of that thick-skin potion in your system now, so I’m not gonna hesitate to poke holes in you if you try to start shit.”

Predictably, Raspberry turned up her nose at him, the carton sliding off her face in the process. Tap snorted, bringing one of his knives around, putting the point right between her eyes. That got her attention. She turned her head just enough to glare.

 

“I’ll start here,” he said, shifting the knife a few inches to the right, holding it just above her tear duct. “Since you can’t make up your damn mind if you want to give me the stink eye me or pretend I don’t exist.”

Her composure faltered, brow trembling, going cross-eyed as she looked up the scratched strip of sharpened steel. Finally, she snorted and turned to face him, ears splayed, looking more frustrated than defeated.

Tap smirked. “Welcome to earth, your highness.” He levitated the knife away, swinging it around to the rope binding her forelegs. “I’m going to cut you loose, but remember; no bullshit or I’ll carve out your fucking eyes.”

Raspberry sighed and rolled her eyes, but nodded. She shifted her weight, rolling onto her back and holding up her fore and hind legs.

“Shit, I should have thought of this before feather-fuck and Leaf bolted.”

He went to work. It occurred to him shortly after trying to cut through the braided fibers that it would probably be faster to just untie the knots. He changed tactics. Shortly thereafter, his magic backfired with a sharp pop as he struggled to correctly manipulate the rope. It wasn’t a simple knot, like the kind he used to lay traps. He recognized it as one of those weird knots that Paharita had tried to teach him for use in kink play. Raspberry began to wobble, making a muffled sound in the process. He glanced up and realized that she was giggling.

Tap raised a brow. “What?”

She stopped and shook her head. Tap gave her a skeptical look, but glanced down at the knot again, resulting in another failed attempt.

Frustrated, he muttered, “Stupid ass fetish knots.” Raspberry’s belly outright rippled, her laughter slipping past the gag. He folded his ears back and shouted, “What is so fucking funny?!”

She mumbled something, grinning and rolling her eyes away from him. Tap frowned and went back to the knife, eventually managing to saw through. He threw the rope against the floor, snorting triumphantly. As he brought the knife toward the rope binding her hind legs, she raised a hoof. He looked over, and saw she was pointing toward her gag with the other hoof.

“Hell no,” he quipped.

Apparently unsatisfied, Raspberry brought her forelegs up around her head and started trying to pull the gag off. She stopped as soon as he waved the knife in her face again, letting her forelegs and head drop with a low groan. Eventually, all four of her legs were free. Tap gathered up both lengths of rope, which were really four lengths bound together by two very ornate looking knots. Raspberry spent a moment rubbing her hind legs, then tucked and heaved her weight to one side. Tap took another step back as Raspberry rose up off the floor, mane and tail flying as she shook herself off. The stab wounds on her rump and stomach had scabbed over, dried splotches blood matting her coat. He kept the knife floating at her throat, close enough for her to feel the point beneath her second chin.

“There’s a waiting room not too far from here.” He raised a hoof, pointing out the door. “Lots of big, comfy couches and shit. That’s where we’re gonna go, alright?” Raspberry gave him a blank stare. “Alright, let’s go.”

Tap held the knife just far enough away from her throat that she could move without gouging herself. She flicked her tail, seemingly in his direction, and began to lumber forward. Faint columns of dust speckled light filtered into the hallway, failing to really illuminate the passage. He fired up his illumination spell to compensate, causing Raspberry to cast an enormous shadow ahead of them. Tap chewed his lip as they approached the first intersection.

“Okay, take a left."

He held his breath as Raspberry stood there, expecting her to bolt or try to attack. Instead, she slowly turned in the requested direction, shooting him a bored glance. It happened again less than a minute later. This, he felt, was her attempt at psyching him out. He countered this by telling himself not to think about it. Just moments after deciding that this was the best course of action, a low growling made his ears and hackles stand up straight. He whipped his head around, readying a knife, expecting to see a ghoul mid lunge. No such threat was to be found. A few paces ahead, Raspberry had stopped, because he had stopped and so had the knife at her throat. Tap swiveled his ears as he stepped back into a trot, eager to get out of the hallway.

A dash inhaler hissed softly as Tap took another hit. Things slowed down for a moment, which meant he had squeezed harder than intended. Even running on fumes as he was, all the small doses were adding up. The canister barely sloshed when he shook it, and the shadows continued to shift and sway even as his vision focused.

He made use of the perceptive distortion, his gaze sweeping over their surroundings. The waiting room was a bit bigger than the stock room, with rows of seats across the middle. It had two entrances, but the other was locked, making it slightly easier to guard. There were a pair of vending machines against one wall, but they had been smashed and emptied. The water cooler beside them was similarly damaged, the jug smashed in and left on the other side of the room. A table against the far wall held stacks of magazines and a few children’s books. It wasn’t a significant improvement, but it was better than lying on the floor.

“This is it,” he said, each syllable feeling like tree sap.

Raspberry stepped into the room, looking around and sighing. She turned toward him, then settled back on a couch, making it creak and squeal under her wide rump. They stared at each other in silence. That silence was broken as Tap heard growling once more. He turned, ready to fight, and again found nothing but dust and empty space.

Tap looked to Raspberry and asked, “Did you hear that?”

She wore a disinterested expression, like the sort she had given when turning up her nose. She wasn’t turning up her nose, but she was definitely avoiding eye contact. Tap squinted, one ear cocked. He wondered if she was hoping a ghoul would ambush him if she played coy. Snorting at the thought, he got the rope out.

“Alright, get comfy. I’m tying you up again.”

Raspberry let out another long sigh, her brow twitching. This was clearly an agonizing experience for her, but she cut the act short when Tap waved the knife in her face. She flicked her tail and heaved herself fully into her seat, lying on her side with her fore and hind legs extended. He made short work of it, tying the rope tight against her fetlocks and tugging to make sure it wouldn't slip past her hooves. Raspberry watched boredly, lazily moving her legs against the restraints once he had finished. As Tap was turning away, he heard the sound again; louder this time, and more of a rumble.

It was coming from Raspberry. She rested her hooves over her middle, briefly glancing at him before looking away again.

“Oh,” he said simply. Tap had eaten during the night. As far as he was aware Raspberry had not, since being captured the previous evening, eaten anything. “That sucks, lady, but I don’t know when they’re coming back so there’s only enough food for me.”

His own stomach chose that moment to remind him that the single can of beans he had eaten the previous night was not adequate. Tap cocked an ear and grimaced, more at himself than anything. Raspberry watched him, one brow raised, as he opened the bindle he had made from his jacket. He levitated knife to the second can of beans and punched a hole in the top, carving around the tin ridge until he could push the jagged lid up. Just as he tipped the edge to his lips, Raspberry grunted and mumbled around her gag. Tap hesitated, chewed his lip, and sighed.

"Yeah, fine, okay." Tap brought the can of beans and the knife to Raspberry, begrudgingly cutting through her gag.

The very moment the rope fell away from her round face, she said, "You aren't seriously considering eating out of the can, are you?"

Tap blinked. "Yeah?"

Raspberry's expression of concern swiftly became a look of disgust. "Would you at least heat them, first?"

He looked down at the can, then back to her. "Fine like this."

"Unbelievable," she muttered before he had even finished. "And you expect me to partake in this asinine excuse for a meal?"

Tap narrowed his eyes and folded back his ears. "Look lady, I don't have to share shit with you—"

Raspberry cut him off again, her nose wrinkling. "That's an apt description of your current course of action, no? If you'll pardon my vulgarity, cold beans out of a can may as well be shit."

"Fuck you," Tap spat, yanking the can of beans away from her. "Now you're not getting any."

"What an absolute tragedy," she droned as she canted her head to one side.

Glaring at her out of one eye, Tap upended the can, dumping the thick, cold contents into and around his mouth. Raspberry's comparison stuck in his mind. He gagged as he struggled to push it out of his thoughts.

"Truthfully, I was hoping to have this fiasco resolved by now, but I can plainly see that won't be the case." She heaved a dramatic sigh. "You leave me no choice."

"What the fuck are you gonna do?" he said with his mouth full. "Sass me some more?"

"I'm going to tell you where I stockpiled food and weapons," she said simply.

Tap swallowed and locked eyes with her, brow creasing as he squinted. Raspberry casually held his gaze.

"This is a fucking trick."

Raspberry shook her head without breaking eye contact. "No trick."

"Of course this is a trick! I'm not fucking stupid! I’m an adult!" He jabbed a hoof in her direction. "Why else would you want to help me like that?"

"You think this is for your benefit?" Laughter bubbled out of her thick chest, her belly quivering. "You misunderstand, darling. I simply refuse to eat raw ingredients out of the container like some kind of scavenger. I wouldn't be able to stop you from plundering my reserves, of course, but that's a negligible consequence by comparison."

Tap shook his head and stomped off. "No fucking way."

Raspberry chuckled. "Very well then; I invite you to listen to the soothing sounds of my unabated appetite."

He glanced back at her, arching a brow. As if on cue, her stomach gurgled even louder than before. Raspberry shrugged, a smug grin across her face.

|[  7 ]|[BAR]|[(  ) ]|

"Not much farther now," Raspberry Tart called back, over the sound of her own growling stomach. She slowed down, arching her back like some enormous cat as she stepped over something. "Mind the tripwire."

Sure enough, a wire had been rigged to what appeared to be a circular weight, keeping it suspended over the valve of a tank that read "Liquid Nitrogen." Double Tap waited until she was well away from the wire before quickly hopping over it himself. He kept his knives levitating around her face, poised to strike at a moment's notice, but Raspberry had been surprisingly cooperative. Suspiciously so. Tap was almost certain that she was trying to lure him into a false sense of security and that the moment he let his guard down, she would make her move. Despite the fact that she was currently leading the way, he was determined to keep one step ahead of her.

Equally concerning was the exhaustion creeping up on him. He took a tiny hit of dash to no avail, lamenting as the inhaler felt just a bit closer to empty. Even with amphetamines in his system, he had caught himself nodding off on several occasions, unsure of how long he had been asleep, or if he had even fallen asleep at all. There was no real way to tell time, but Tap was certain that literal days had passed since the last time he had gotten proper sleep. He agonized over this fact at nearly every moment.

Raspberry slowed out of her waddling trot, taking a few more swaying steps before coming to a complete stop. She glanced back at him, past the knives hanging in her face, and nodded.

The golden glow of sunset flooded the hallway as she pushed the door open. Hollow Shades' eroded skyline stood before Tap, partially obscured by vines that spanned the broad, vacant window frames. Vegetation had crept into the room, the tile displaced by grass and shrubs, a blanket of moss over the seating. If all the tables and chairs were any indication, she had brought him to some kind of dining hall, though it more resembled an overgrown indoor garden in its current state. Raspberry casually moved through the brush and clutter, toward a long counter that occupied the left wall of the room. He slinked along close behind, tensed like a spring. A rusted door behind the counter was her next stop. The door opened with a tug and a screech, revealing a dark, dusty kitchen. A much larger door stood on the far side of the room, the surrounding wall looking to be paneled with dull, textured metal. He quickly recognized it as a walk-in freezer.

Raspberry nudged a lantern on a prep counter as she made her way to the freezer door. In the pale yellow light, he noticed smudges and hoof prints though the thick layer of dust, the counter tops wiped mostly clean as though an effort had been made to tidy up. He also spotted a shotgun, rigged to a saddle and propped up in the corner of the room. His telekinetic grasp brought it closer, and he quickly ejected the shells.

"Well, here we are," Raspberry stated, blowing on the handle before biting down and pulling.

The freezer door swung outward, revealing shelves of canned foods, and to his surprise, a selection of fresh vegetables and flowers. He could also see a few strips of some kind of meat hanging over buckets toward the back of the enclosure. Raspberry stepped aside, looking at him expectantly.

Tap shook his head and then waved a hoof toward the doorway. "You first."

Frowning, Raspberry turned and trundled in. He kept her moving until she stood against the rear wall, held in place by the sharp objects in his telekinetic grasp. First on his inspection were the vegetables. The carrots looked a bit gnarled, and one of the potatoes almost appeared to have a face, but he had seen and eaten much worse in his time. He swiped as many carrots as he could carry. Immediately, Raspberry began to protest.

"A bit of variety never hurt, darling." She tried to wiggle past the knives, but Tap repositioned them. "Maybe you'd like to make more than roasted carrots with a side of carrot soup?"

Tap already had a carrot hanging out of the corner of his mouth when he replied, "Who said I was gonna cook them?"

Raspberry stared blankly and silently for several seconds. "You honestly intend on eating everything as is."

"Yep," he said after swallowing.

"Of course you do." She started to chuckle and shake her head. "How foolish was I to think otherwise. Well, if you're satisfied with your looting, I'd like to make something a bit more palatable for myself."

Tap paused. Her cutie mark was a mortar and pestle with herbs jutting out of the bowl. She had consumed some kind of potion when confronted, and it had temporarily given her exceptional durability. Tap narrowed his eyes.

"You can eat out of a can like the rest of us."

"That's hardly fair!" Raspberry whined. He prodded her in the back of the neck with the pointy end of a knife. "So be it, but I intend to at least heat the contents before eating them!"

"Whatever," Tap sighed.

Five weird carrots was all it took for Tap get sick of eating them as they were. The texture was much too spongy, and the flavor had a strange, metallic tang to it. Similarly, Raspberry looked none too pleased with her meal, even if the smell of her soup made his mouth water.

"This is terribly bland," she announced. "I can barely taste it." She looked over the counters at him and asked, "Are you certain you won't allow me to make something from scratch? I suppose I could bring myself to share it with you if you did."

Tap snorted out a laugh. "Yeah, sure, why not let you poison me?"

"I'm insulted!" she said with a theatrical gasp. "I would never waste perfectly good food in such an underhooved way." Tap raised a brow, unconvinced. She gestured to her bowl and added, "Would you at least permit me to add some spices to this?"

"Ask me that again," he droned, "and I'm gonna put the fucking gag back on you."

Raspberry sighed. "Your cruelty is truly boundless." She paused and tilted her head, smirking as she spoke. "Although, you're hardly following orders as is. Aren't you worried that your superior will reprimand you for un-gaging me?"

He recalled that Rita had given him specific instructions on this subject, then he wrinkled his nose. "I do what I want, and she's not my superior."

"Is that so? Forgive my assumption, it's just—" She trailed off to loudly sip her soup.

Tap rolled a wad of chewed carrot around the roof of his mouth. "Just what?"

"Well, for someone that isn't your superior," Raspberry rolled her eyes just slightly to the side, "she rather seems to have you eating out of her claw."

"Fuck you, you're not getting in my head." He dropped the uneaten half of his carrot and started searching the room. "Where did I put the fucking rope?"

Raspberry stayed put, casually sipping her soup. "And I suppose it was your decision to remain here by your lonesome?"

"She's an asshole," Tap said, knocking over cans mid stride, "but that doesn't make her my boss."

"But you have done quite a bit of work for me in the past," she continued, a note of amusement in her voice. "Haven't you ever wondered why she never wanted you and I to meet?"

Tap swept up the rope in his levitation and turned toward her. "Nope."

"And you've never questioned your cut of the payouts? You've never considered if you were being paid fairly for doing the bulk of the dirty work?" She laughed and took a step back as he advanced.

"Not really!" he lied, folding back his ears, trying to smother the valid questions she presented.

"Do you even know how much those contracts were worth? Do you know how much any of your contracts were worth?" She backed up against the wall, grinning. "Did you ever have a say in which jobs you would do?"

Tap swung the rope, hitting her across the face with a knot. "Shut the fuck up!"

He froze, feeling a strange pang of guilt amid his frustration. The frustration, he realized, was not because Raspberry was mocking him, but because she had hit the nail right on the head. His guilt eluded him, however. The force of the blow had caused Raspberry to turn her head. She was entirely silent for the moment, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye, nostrils flaring as she inhaled slowly.

"Whether you want to admit it or not," she said with cold and even measure, "Paharita has been taking advantage of you for who knows how long, and I sincerely doubt you've been entirely oblivious to this fact." Her cheek rolled as she pushed against the inside with her tongue. "But if you want to silence me for speaking the truth, be my guest."

"Stop acting like you give a shit about me, alright?!" He waved a knife in her face, his face twisting up in anger. "None of that changes a damn thing!"

Raspberry held his gaze, looking past the knife just inches from her eyes. "Nor would I expect it to. Despite the jeering, I'm well aware that you're not a simpleton."

He eased back, still glowering. "Then stop trying to fucking trick me already! I'm not letting you go."

"In the name of living with convenience, no?" She rolled her eyes, stepping away from the wall. "What a fine reason to escort someone to the gallows."

That was the last straw. Tap snorted and stepped away from the counter, wrenching open the door to the walk in freezer. He began pulling things off the shelves, throwing them into heaps on the floor of the kitchen. Immediately, he heard Raspberry's heavy hoofbeats behind him. He brought up his knives defensively, like the quills of a porcupine.

"What in heaven's name are you doing?" she cried. "I had everything organized!"

"If I don't get some damn peace and quiet and sleep soon," he growled as he added to the pile of cans, "I'm gonna do something you really aren't gonna like." He glanced back at her with a dead, vacant look on his face. "You're going in here, and I'm gonna take a nice, long nap, got it?"

She glanced away, frowning. "As if I had any say in the matter to begin with."

Tap shook his head with disgust. "How can you act so damn high and mighty? I know what you did."

"You know what I did?" she repeated, arching a brow, but still looking away. "Somehow I doubt that."

Squinting in disbelief, Tap said, "Don't play fucking stupid. You sold out Friendship City and killed hundreds of ponies."

Raspberry Tart shot him a sideways glance and narrowed her eyes. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Tap stepped away from the door, keeping the knives between himself and Raspberry . "You're just another fucking Littlepip, stepping on whoever you can to get what you want." He jabbed a hoof in her face, sneering. "I'm gonna make sure you get what you deserve."

A pained sort of noise whispered past her lips, as though she were lost for words. An anxious feeling bubbled up in the pit of Tap's stomach as she looked down at the floor, going still as a statue. When she spoke, her voice was soft, trembling, but clear as day.

"You don't know the first damn thing about me, boy." She looked up at him, but he could only one eye through her bangs. That eye was wide and furious. "I helped Friendship City grow. I helped it thrive. That was my city." She stomped a hoof. "My home!"

Tap wanted to move, to push her away, to do anything but stand in range of her, but his legs refused to budge. He was rooted to the spot, paralyzed with fear and regretting his decision to unload the shotgun sitting just a few paces away.

Raspberry bared her teeth, now just a hair's width from his face. "And you think I wanted to see it razed? You think I somehow benefitted from losing everything I worked for?!"

Tap didn't realize the knives had fallen out of his telekinetic grasp until he heard them clatter to the floor. Raspberry heard it as well, her ears swiveling. He stayed frozen in that moment with her, expecting her to charge the moment he tried to pick up the knives. Her eyes flicked from him to the floor, visibly considering it as they hesitated on their next course of action.

Raspberry snorted and looked away, trudging into the fridge and slamming the door behind her.

Double Tap felt himself deflate as he exhaled a sigh of relief. A nagging in the back of his mind demanded that he tie her up again. The idea of confronting her while she was still furious was less than appealing. He wedged a chair under the handle, then spent a few minutes wiring empty cans to the door, nudging them with his hooves and nose to make sure they rattled when provoked. Unsatisfied, but too tired to care, he curled up in a corner with the shotgun and a can of cooking sterno and drank himself to sleep.

|[o8- ]|[ /_\ ]|[o8- ]|

A loud bang jolted Tap awake. He whipped his head around the kitchen, swinging several knives in a panic. He heard it again, ears swiveling toward the freezer door. As he watched, it visibly shook with the third bang, rattling the cans he had strung up around it and shifting the chair under wedged under the handle.

"What the fuck?!" he shouted, ears pinning back.

From within, Raspberry boomed, "I have been patient and civil for as long as I can stand!" The door shook again. "I need to visit the mare's room and I refuse to relieve myself in this wretched box! Release me this instant!"

Hesitantly, Tap pulled the chair out from under the handle and opened the door. Before he could say anything, she shoved her way past him and his levitating knives. He followed her to the closest bathroom in silence, escorting her back to the kitchen just as quietly. Her cooperation continued to arouse as much appreciation as it did apprehension. He dreaded the thought of having to fight her again, and wondered how much longer she would bide her time before making a move.

A short while later, Tap was looking down at the bowl of stew in front of him, swallowing a mouthful of nothing as he weighed the safety of the opportunity against his hunger. The deal was that he would leave her ungagged and unbound if she would heat up food for him. Tap had watched Raspberry Tart prepare the stew, from the can to the burner to serving, and she had talked him through the whole process, but he still had reservations. Raspberry had not yet started eating, either. If anything, that was a sign that she had somehow poisoned the stuff.

She cleared her throat, bringing him out of his anxious thoughts, watching him from the other side of the counter.

"How long did I leave you in there?" he asked, stalling for time and looking down at the bowl.

"Long enough. You realize that I didn't have access to a clock while confined, I hope."

"So," he glanced up at her, "what happened to the pony that was tracking you before we got here?"

Raspberry arched a brow. "I wouldn't doubt that there are others who are eager to cash me in for a reward, but you are the first non-ghoul I've seen since arriving in this city."

"Bullshit." Tap shook his head and pointed. "Leaf said their scent was as fresh as yours. Now are they still wandering around here or did you kill them?"

"Your stew is going to get cold," she replied, adding, "and I take offense to how quickly you assume I would resort to violence."

Tap furrowed his brow. "You almost fucking beat me to death!"

"And I was pursued into a corner," she said with a grin. "I assure you, my actions were purely in self defense."

"Look, I know that two ponies came here before us." He waved a hoof at her. "One of them was you. Was the other one your body guard or a bounty hunter or what?"

Raspberry rolled her eyes. "If I had a bodyguard traveling with me, do you really think I would allow myself to remain in this wonderful predicament?"

"Maybe they're waiting for a good chance to attack," he said with a shrug.

"Oh, how precious." She laughed and shook her head. "As if one had to wait for an opportunity to overwhelm you."

"Fuck you."

She met his gaze again, a sly grin on her face. "And darling, if you're not going to eat the stew I made, I'm going to eat it for you. Wasting food is an intolerable offense."

Tap felt certain that if he could just swap bowls, he would get to eat and she would unwittingly suffer her own trickery. He grinned and glanced across the room as he figured out the appropriate distraction.

"What did you do with the salt and pepper?" He put his hooves on the table, leaning back. "I like a lot of pepper."

She raised a brow, but heaved herself to her hooves and crossed the room. Tap quickly switched bowls, his horn going dark again before she had turned around. She set a pair of shakers down and seated herself again, watching Tap intently. Still grinning, Tap lowered his muzzle to the bowl and took a long slurp. Raspberry smiled and did the same.

"I switched the bowls," he announced after she had swallowed several mouthfuls. "I know that you poisoned mine." He swallowed and added, "Serves you right."

"I poisoned both bowls," she replied calmly. "But the poison loses potency based on body mass, so while I'll get quite the belly ache, you, on the other hoof—"

Tap stumbled back, eyes wide. He clutched a hoof to his belly, clenching his stomach as tightly as he could and forcing himself to vomit. Between heaves, he watched as Raspberry lifted her bowl, gulping down the rest of her stew. She then circled around to his side of the table and sat down, starting on his stew as well.

"Or," she said aloud, carefully holding the pepper shaker over the bowl with her hooves, "I was lying because you don't deserve to enjoy my culinary mastery." She sipped again and made a pleasant sound. "You were right, this did need more pepper."

"You asshole," Tap managed between coughs.

He focused on the bowl, levitating it right into her face with a satisfying splat. She sat completely still for a moment, then wiped a hoof across her face.

Without turning toward him, she muttered, "Your lack of maturity continues to astound me." She uttered a long sigh. "Even if I may have deserved that, there was no reason to take it out on the food. For shame."

"Back in the freezer," he grumbled, thrusting knives in her direction.

Raspberry shuffled to her hooves, smirking as she waddled toward the door. "Be a dear and clean up while I'm in containment, won't you? I would hate to share with any more vermin than I already am."

Tap slammed the door against her rump, hearing her yelp on the other side. The satisfaction was minimal. He shoved a chair under the door handle and dragged himself out of the kitchen, hoping to distance himself from the smell of bile. The moon had traded places with the sun, hanging low on the horizon. Pale light cascaded down the mountains, flooding past the vines and in through the bare window frames. Emptying out his stomach had left him weary. His hooves felt so heavy, head hanging low as he looked for a place to sleep.

Walk with me for a while, won't you?

Lady Luck tilted her ill-defined head and smiled, standing in the swaying grass.

"I'm too tired for this shit," Tap muttered.

"Perhaps, but there's something I'd like to show you." She waited patiently, and as Tap began to follow, she led him through the room, toward a door on the far side. "Something I'd like you to consider."

Tap followed her through the door, and everything went blank.

|[    ]|[    ]|[    ]|

A warm breeze blew through his mane. and he found himself standing in Arbu. He glanced back the way he had come, and saw the interior of Glade Skimmer's home. Anette and her children waved, smiling.

A feeling of dread gripped him. "Please," he whimpered, "I can't watch this again."

"Sometimes we have to look back, even if it's painful." Glade Skimmer smiled as he met her gaze, standing where Lady Luck had been. "How will we learn if we don't see where we went wrong?"

Tap felt comforted by Skimmer's presence, if only slightly. "But what went wrong?" he asked as he stepped closer to her.

"I think we all started taking things for granted. For us—" She clicked her tongue. "Arbu, I mean; we just figured we could keep on eating whoever we thought no one would miss." Shrugging, she added, "It was supposed to be a temporary thing to get us through a hard winter, and it just kinda got out of control."

Tap nodded, frowning.

"Then you've got the Steel Rangers who figured they could do whatever they wanted." She shifted her weight, lifting a hoof and rolling it. "You know, like all the tech in the world belonged to them as soon as they laid their eyes on it, whether it actually belonged to them or not."

"Alright," he said, cocking an ear. "But what does that have to do with you?"

Skimmer huffed. "I meant where we went wrong in a broader sense." She chuckled and shook her head. "We take this stuff for granted, like we're entitled to it, and then when it gets taken away we think that lashing out will make things right."

Tap furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes. "You mean like revenge?"

"Exactly," she said, pointing. "But revenge doesn't fix anything. The Steel Rangers send an assassin to do their dirty work, but that doesn't bring back any of the rangers they lost when their mission went south." She looked down at the ground, and everything went dark. "Someone shoots up Arbu because they find out it's full of cannibals, but the travelers that never left Arbu aren't any closer to rising from the grave."

His lips tensed. "She didn't have the right."

"No, she didn't." Skimmer whispered sadly. "Do you?"

A chill ran through Tap, from his hooves to the tip of his horn. His surroundings changed, starting with a dull, orange light that flickered as it grew more intense. The air was full of smoke, but he could make out shapes in the haze. An easel, buckets of paint, a few metal drums. He was standing in the basement of Skimmer's home. A pale glow radiated from his horn, keeping a rifle levitating just in front of him. Skimmer herself hung in the air, staring calmly at him down the barrel of the rifle. Her radigator armor was wrenched away, leaving nothing but her necklace on her exposed body.

"No no no!" Tap tried to drop or throw the rifle, but his magic resisted any attempts to control it.

"Friendship City is destroyed, and hundreds of ponies killed or left homeless, because someone tried to make a deal with the Enclave." She closed her eyes. "Do you really think that revenge is going to undo all that death and destruction?"

Tap could feel his grip tightening on the trigger. "Please! For fuck's sake— Don't make me do this!"

Her eyes snapped open. "Vengeance is not justice."

The hammer fell. Three rounds tore into Glade Skimmer, their incendiary effect searing the entry wounds as they burned her from the inside.

"NO!"

Tap squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, his perspective had shifted, now lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Skimmer dropped to the floor across from him. The set of hooves between them slowly clicked out of sight.

"If you have to choose between the two," she whispered, smoke and flame pouring out of her mouth with every word, "don’t pretend that one is the other."

His vision blurred and faded.

When it returned, he saw the horizon stretching before him, hazy pink with swirls of clouds and pinpricks of starlight. He felt sand under his haunches and heard the crashing of waves. Someone nestled in against his side. He looked and saw Skimmer, her forelegs wrapped around him, smiling as she looked out over the ocean.

"We should never forget the past," she said. "When we forget, we make the same mistakes and lose the lessons we learned from them." Her eyes shifted, lidding as she met his gaze. "But it's okay to let go. If you chain yourself to the past, you can never move forward."

|[    ]|[    ]|[    ]|

"Skimmer."

Double Tap sat up and tried to blink his eyes into focus. He hadn't left the cafeteria. The grass moved in waves, shifting and sliding against his coat as they were disturbed by a gust of wind that rolled through the room. Outside, the sky wore a vibrant blue. He guessed it to be about noon. He sat there for a long while, feeling sad and happy and full of dread all at once. As he prepared himself to roll to his hooves, something caught his eye. A sheet lay out before him, fluttering gently in the breeze. The edges had been weighed down, he realized, to cover something. Tap pulled on a corner, lifting until he could get a look.

The face of a pony greeted him.

Tap fell back, teeth clenched, but the pony stayed where he had left her. He waited a few moments, then he got to his hooves, circling around for a closer look.

A mare had been laid out beneath the sheet, surrounded with flowers now wilted and dull. Her grey coat was patchy, rashes and discolored splotches showing through her fur, and the black strands of her mane were thin, as though a great deal of it had fallen out. She had wings as well, their sparse plumage tucked against her sides. He recognized these as symptoms of severe radiation poisoning. She almost resembled a ghoul, minus the decomposition, but something about her seemed strangely familiar. He tried and failed to recall where he had seen her face before.

Immediately after that, he recognized that this was intended to be her grave, and he was blatantly violating it. He quickly covered her back up, feeling ashamed of himself. His curiosity was no less prevalent. As he stood there, trying to remember, something shifted out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up just in time to meet Glade Skimmer's gaze, the warmth of her smile making his heart ache. She shook her head, brushing a hoof over the side of his face.

"You're not alone," she whispered, dissolving into ash on the wind. "I promise."

|[ /_\ ]|[(  ) ]|[  7 ]|

Tap sat across from Raspberry, looking enviously at the plate of mixed greens with grilled meat, radish and potato that she was eagerly tearing into. He pushed a spoonful of dry, burnt beans into his mouth, sighing quietly as he looked down at the blackened can. Skimmer's words and the face of the mare under the sheet lingered in his mind. He wondered how he could mention the corpse in the next room without being too obvious.

Studying Raspberry closely, he asked, "So you came here all by yourself?"

"That's right, darling," she said without so much as a glance.

"And you haven't seen anyone here since me and Rita and Leaf?"

Raspberry sighed softly, her brow twitching. "As much as I cherish these little exchanges, I'm not fond of repeating myself."

He chewed his lip, deciding that he should just say it. "Alright. Who is that, then?"

"Who is whom?" she asked, still focused on her meal.

"Out there," he said, gesturing toward the cafeteria. "Under the sheet."

Raspberry thumped her hooves against the counter so hard that it shook. She stared daggers at him and in that cold, level way, she slowly demanded, "What did you do?"

A shiver ran down Tap's spine, the hair standing up along the back of his neck. "I didn't— I covered her back up, okay?" He raised his hooves toward her. "Chill."

She sat back, keeping her eyes fixed on his, but said nothing. They stared in silence for an uncomfortably long time.

"She's the other pony that Leaf smelled, isn't she?" he finally said. Raspberry looked away, her hooves sliding off the counter. He leaned closer, one brow raised. "Did you do that to her?"

"I would never," she said as she glared over at him out of the corner of her eye.

"But she was tailing you, right? She was after the bounty?"

She shook her head slowly. "No."

"Then why—" He suddenly remembered where he had seen the mare's face. He imagined her standing next to Raspberry with the ruins of Manehattan behind them, as they had been in the photograph he found in Raspberry's loft. "Who was she?"

Raspberry opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She heaved herself to her hooves, slowly making her way to the freezer. "Please excuse me."

Tap got up and started to follow. "What the hell. Did she come here with you from Friendship City?"

She paused in the open doorway, looking back, but not at him.

The freezer door clicked softly behind her. He hesitated. Common sense told him not to press the issue any further, but now there were questions that only she could answer. Just a day ago he had cherished silence on Raspberry's part.

Moments later, the silence was broken. Clattering followed by a loud, metallic clang were clue enough that Raspberry Tart was up to something on the other side of the freezer door. In the instant it took him to wrench the door open, the only glimpse of Raspberry was her rapidly retreating backside and the swishing locks of her tail through an enormous hole. At a glance, she had apparently managed to peel away the paneling of the rear wall of the freezer and charge right through exposed insulation to the other side.

"Come the fuck on," he called after her, doubling back as he remembered to grab the shotgun.

He couldn't see her, but her thundering hoofbeats echoed back to him. Once more, he found the speed and endurance she displayed were startling, considering her size. His horn lit the way. She had chosen an escape route laden with traps, he assumed, to slow him down. The tripwires were easy enough to spot  and avoid. He weaved through them as swiftly as he could, seeing a flash of blonde vanish around the next corner as he slid into a sunlit hallway.

"There's nowhere to go, fucker!"

A crash reverberated through the walls. He turned out of the hallway fast enough to lock eyes with Raspberry at the other end of the room. She had knocked over a shelf, bringing down the rest in a domino effect, and there was something glowing in her hooves. A bottle containing with a fluorescent blue liquid.

"Hey!"

Tap whipped a knife across the room, shattering the bottle before she could bring it to her lips.

She scowled at him, turning tail again. "So inconsiderate!"

The toppled shelves were barely an obstacle. He dismounted and resumed the chase, keeping her in his sights while she plowed through a reception area ahead.

Raspberry grunted as he stuck her in the backside, the blunt end of the knife jutting out of her right haunch, but she did not slow down. He closed the gap, throwing another knife, but narrowly missing her left hind leg as she rounded another corner. A wall of pomegranate and a pair of rear hooves awaited him around the same bend, much to his surprise. Tap crumpled, his hooves and body managing another step while the side of his face molded to the contours of Raspberry's hoof. His vision blurred and he hit the floor, Raspberry's hoofbeats already sounding distant. He shook it off, one eye squeezed shut as he tried to ignore the pain and swelling.

"I'm gonna fucking blast you!" He levitated the shotgun off his back and pumped a shell into it. "You hear me?! I'm gonna blow your legs right the fuck off!"

And then, just as surprising as the kick to the face he had received moments ago, he heard Raspberry shout, "Don't shoot! I surrender!"

"Well… fucking good," Tap yelled, brow and nose wrinkled with anger and a bit of confusion. "You almost knocked my fucking teeth out, you—"

Tap blinked as he emerged into a foyer. Raspberry stood several paces ahead of him, all four hooves spread wide, her head raised. She was bathed in an intense white light, her shadow stretching across the floor behind her. Several paces ahead of her was a heavily armed, heavily armored equine figure. Immediately, their spotlight swung to him, blinding him in the process.

"Who the fuck—"

Through a megaphone, someone ordered, "Lay your weapons down, and keep your hooves, mouth and horn where we can see them."

Again, Tap tried to shout, "Who the fuck—"

"We are the Justifiers, and we have come for the fugitive Raspberry Tart. Please cooperate, we mean you no harm."

Double Tap gritted his teeth. He could just barely make out several silhouettes through the glare. Slowly, he lowered the shotgun and knives until they touched the ground, but he kept one knife hidden in the tangles his mane. The prospect of using it was unappealing in the face of unknown variables. He kept quiet, hoping to learn more about them before making his next move.

"What do we do with the other one?" he heard one of them hiss, as though she had intended it to be a whisper.

"We must consult Brother Flint," answered another, his hushed tones carrying the telltale accent of a zebra.

There was a short pause before a third grunted, "Ya mean Rhino?"

"Yes, initiate," the zebra stated simply. "That is what I said." There was a heartbeat of a pause before he added, "Brother Flint, we have reached an unexpected complication."

"It would appear so," someone rumbled, his voice like a rockslide, accompanied by heavy hoofbeats and a sound like rattling chains. "What do you make of it?"

Much less quietly, the mare from earlier asked, "Is he a bodyguard?"

"Unless his employment very recently ended on poor terms," replied the zebra, "I do not believe so."

The spotlight went dim with a clicking-thump, revealing six equines of varying size. The smallest of the group didn't look much older than a foal, dressed in light-looking leather armor and brandishing a silenced pistol. The zebra stood at about average height, peering out from beneath a combat helmet, armored vest hugged tightly to his striped body. A shotgun bit-trigger hovered just before his mouth, teeth bared in anticipation. They appeared unusually sharp. The pony in heavy armor rigged with a spotlight was the one that had tried and failed to whisper. She neglected the trigger of her heavy machine gun to chew her lip, her eyes darting anxiously between Tap, the zebra, and a pony that Tap could only assume went by both Rhino and Brother Flint.

The pony in question was the largest of the group, towering over them all. More than half of his body was draped in heavy iron armor that was held together with a series of chains. What drew Tap's attention first was the helmet topped with a long, curved spike, stained red all the way to the base. The little that was visible of the pony underneath was coated in brown with patches of white. His hay-colored tail flicked to one side, matching the few errant strands the escaped his helmet and clung to his lantern jawed face.

It took Tap a moment to realize that the metal plate along this pony's jaw was not simply armor, it was his jaw, set into his cheekbones about where the jaw should have been. The right side of his face and neck were badly scarred by what appeared to be burns, and in the shadow of his helmet, a dull red light glowed from the right eye socket.

"You were chasing this fugitive," the immense pony stated as he stepped forward. His prosthetic jaw moved at it should. The absence of a lower lip didn't seem to hinder his ability to speak. "I am to assume that you are a bounty hunter?"

Tap raised a brow. "Oh, I can actually get a word in now?" The pony said nothing, and Tap flicked an ear. "Sure, I'm a fucking bounty hunter."

"We will safely escort you and your claim to Stable Twenty-Nine for a small fee."

"Yeah, I don't have any money, sorry."

Without any shift in tone or expression, the pony replied, "Then we will accept payment after you have received your reward."

Tap sneered, lifting his head. "You will, huh? It sounds like you're not giving me much of a choice here."

"You were chasing this fugitive, by your lonesome." Without gesturing, he added, "And you appear to have injured her without effect. Our assistance would be to your benefit."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I would have gotten her under control just fine." He sniffed once, shifting his weight from hoof to hoof. "And anyway, I'm just waiting for the rest of my team to get back. I don't need your help or whatever." The entire group stayed put, staring at him. "That means fuck off."

"The cost of our services—"

"Look, when Rita—" Tap glanced to Raspberry, a wave of revulsion coming over him as he realized that what he was about to say would have validated her. "I mean, my partner and I—"

"Rita?" the immense pony repeated.

"Yeah, Paharita.” Tap flicked his eyes over the group, then back to the ironclad stallion. “I need to discuss this with her first, and she's not here, so you can either fuck off or get comfy until she gets back."

The pony was silent for a long, uncomfortable stretch of time. Finally, he rumbled, "Very well." He turned and receded through his squad. As he did, Tap realized that his left hind leg was also prosthetic. "Should you find need of our services, we will be nearby."

And just like that, the entire group lowered their weapons and turned to follow. Tap stood his ground, watching closely, occasionally checking his surroundings to make sure he wasn't being flanked. The last of them disappeared around a corner less than a minute later. Tap grabbed up his weapons without a moment's delay, pointing barrel and blades at Raspberry as he circled around her. Her expression was anything but fearful. Instead, she almost seemed disappointed.

"That settles it then," she said with a sigh.

"Settles what?" Tap grunted.

Raspberry shook her head and turned, casually trotting back the way she had come. Without looking back, she answered, "I'm stuck with you."

|[o’o ]|[  7 ]|[ /_\ ]|

"Her name was Digit."

Tap blinked his good eye. "Wh— Oh."

The swelling had gone down on the side of his face where he had taken the full force of Raspberry’s buck, but it was still very sore with no healing potions to speed up the recovery process. He kept quiet for a moment longer, watching Raspberry bring the pot to the counter. She had cleaned and bandaged all of her wounds, her rump bearing several bandaids.

"Why are you telling me now?" he asked.

She shrugged, sliding a pair of bowls to the side of the pot. "Telling you her name does not put me at any sort of disadvantage, and it's disrespectful for me to deny her name over my own personal grievances." She poured both bowls full, and slid the closer one to Tap. "In short, I'm telling you because you asked."

"I asked who she was," Tap replied, briefly glancing down at the bowl in front of him, "not what her name was."

Raspberry Tart was wrinkling her nose at him when he met her gaze. "You'll forgive me if I don't feel inclined to divulge information about her personal life."

"Uh-huh." Tap stared at her, his expression vacant. "If she wasn't your bodyguard, then—"

She gave him a stern look from across the counter. "I would sincerely appreciate it if you would stop asking me about her. Might I ask why you've taken such an interest in my personal affairs?"

Tap chewed his lip, glancing to the side. "Just trying to make sense of things, I guess. I don't understand why you did what you did, or why you came here of all places, or where that mare fits into it."

"Digit," Raspberry snipped.

"Right, Digit," Tap said, cocking an ear. "Sorry."

Tap stared into the bowl of soup in front of him. It smelled vastly different from what he was accustomed to, but that made sense considering it didn't come from a can. Wisps of steam curled away from the amber broth, several freshly boiled slices of carrot floating just below the surface, obscuring chunks of potato that had settled in the murky stock at the bottom. He glanced up at her, then gestured to the bowl. Raspberry rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, then leaned forward and took a long, loud slurp from her bowl.

"As if I hadn't already explained that I'm willing to cooperate from now on."

He arched a brow. "That doesn't mean I believe you."

"Oh, darling, if I had really wanted to poison you, you would already be dead." She paused to take another sip, then added, "Thank goodness I didn't when I had the chance, otherwise I'd be on my way to Stable Twenty-Nine in the custody of the Justifiers, and you, well—" She giggled dryly. "I suppose we're both lucky that I was too hungry to bother."

"You're a riot," Tap muttered. "Anyway, are you gonna explain what happened or what?"

Raspberry's brow twitched. "I don't owe you an explanation."

"But I did ask," Tap said with a smirk.

"Yes, I suppose you did." She took a long, slow breath and looked away. "The short of it is, I turned to the Enclave in the hopes of receiving their support, and paid a very heavy price for my foolishness."

Tap swiveled his ears. "I already knew that part. I mean why did you think that was a good idea?"

"Because, truthfully, I was getting desperate for results." She set her eyes on him, a frown etched into her rounded face. "In her infinite wisdom, Mayor Black Seas saw fit to shoot down my attempts at being diplomatic on the grounds that my business interests were selfish and non-beneficial to the community."

"Business interests?" he asked as he leaned against the counter.

"I had plans for expanding the housing areas of Friendship City. We would have been more than capable of supporting an increase in population, but Black Seas insisted that opening the island to more residents would turn it into a shanty-town." She upturned her nose. "As though we weren't already living in a once abandoned relic of the old world!"

Tap stopped chewing the inside of his cheek to ask, "How would that be selfish, though?"

"Black Seas saw it as selfish because all she could focus on were the bottle caps. Would I have made a substantial sum of money out of the project? Absolutely. But I would have re-invested it into the community!" She gestured to the countertop with her hooves. "Happy residents and satisfied merchants benefit everyone, so even if the city became a bit more crowded, the end result would have been a positive one!"

Raspberry snorted and turned her head. "But Blackseas wouldn't listen to the head of the merchant's union; oh no. What could a pony with a profound understanding of socio-economics possibly know about the dynamics of a growing community?!"

Double Tap opened his mouth to say something, but quickly realized the question was hypothetical. Raspberry continued uninterrupted.

"So, since Black Seas refused to even try my plan on a trial basis, I began looking for the push necessary to make her reconsider." She flicked her hoof around idly as she spoke. "I started within the city, of course.  Even after reminding Chief Lantern of favors owed, and Doctor Freshwater of all the funding I had provided, neither of them dared oppose the word of the almighty mayor. The merchant's union was already willing to help finance the project," she shook her head, "but they lacked the political sway necessary to make changes."

"I thought this was about how you made a deal with the Enclave," Tap monotoned.

Raspberry gave him a glaring sideways glance. "Yes, I'm getting to that. I want you to have context."

She cleared her throat. "Anyway, support from beyond the city limits was the next logical choice, the idea being intimidation. Red Eye's diplomats weren't interested in backing me as I was not interested in selling off residents of Friendship City as slave labor, or scrapping and salvaging parts of the city for whatever project he happened to need metal for. The Steel Rangers would only be interested in stripping the city of it's technological resources, so I never even considered them as an option."

She sighed quietly. "I began to believe that I had run out of options, and then, one day—"

"Is this the part—"

"Yes," Raspberry hissed. "Now do you want me to tell the story or not?"

Tap leaned away from the counter, hooves raised.

"Thank you. Ah-hem." She rested her hooves neatly on the counter. "After centuries of silence from the pegasus war machine, suddenly, the Enclave was once again a very real military force in the Equestria. They had made its presence known when they obliterated Canterlot, and through their broadcasts. Naturally, everyone was terrified—"

"Not me," he interrupted, chuckling. "I don't give a fuck about the Enclave."

"Really." Raspberry raised a brow. "Well, everyone sensible was terrified, but I also saw potential in that military might. Digit had a means of contacting them, and so, we began to plan." She exhaled sharply, not quite snorting. "Initially, the deal was that I would turn over Radar, an Enclave deserter that had taken up residence in Friendship City. In exchange, they would provide the muscle necessary to perform something of a change in management."

Tap nodded along. "Right, you were going to kill the mayor."

"Well… yes. It wasn't the most subtle approach, but killing Black Seas would have made things go a great deal more smoothly than simply incapacitating or exiling her. In hindsight, I should have planned on having Chief Lantern removed as well, but she wasn't the one inhibiting my agenda. I couldn't think of anyone that might make a suitable replacement, either. She was very good at her job." Raspberry furrowed her brow. "Too good. You'd think she would have the sense to suggest surrender to the Enclave even if Black Seas was still alive."

"So what happened there?" He waved a hoof and added, "With this Seas lady."

"What happened is that you weren't available," she said with a scowl, thrusting a hoof in Tap's direction. He shrugged. Raspberry's brow twitched briefly as she continued. "You and Paharita were my first choice for the job, as the pair of you had done an excellent job of discretely handling my affairs in the past. As fate would have it, you were out of commission at the time, and I had to settle for less reliable services."

"Yeah, well, you know." Tap shrugged again. "I was kind of down because all of my friends had been murdered recently."

Raspberry widened her eyes. "Oh… I’m terribly sorry." She looked down at the table, lowering her head. "At any rate, not only did the buffoon I hired get himself caught, but I'm told that he had the gall to say Tart says hello as he was attempting to carry out the assassination."

Tap raised his brows. "Wow. That's really fucking stupid."

She nodded slowly, sighing again. "I'd hire you to track him down and kill him, but I'm currently your captive, and I have a feeling that he didn't make it off the island." She looked up again, but her gaze seemed distant. "Regrettably, the plan hinged on that assassination. Since Black Seas was still in the picture, my transmission to the Enclave was intercepted. Even with the knowledge that they were coming, against all rationality, Friendship City put up a fight against an organized military force."

"That's also really fucking stupid."

"Yes," she breathed, closing her eyes. "And the Enclave responded accordingly."

Tap clenched his jaw. "And that's when you took off?"

"No… no, Digit and I fled Friendship City well before the Enclave arrived." Raspberry opened her eyes, staring down at the bowl in front of her.

"So why didn't you just kill Black Seas yourself?" he asked, cocking an ear.

Slowly, she looked up. "I could have poisoned her at any time before then, certainly, but if security traced it back to me and I were arrested, the plan would still have fallen apart. She had to be taken care of on that day, and within a reasonable span of time before the Enclave's arrival." She paused, as though lost for words. "I… did consider taking care of the matter personally once the assassination failed, but it's just as likely that I would have died in the process, and by that point, I— The moment I heard that Enclave bastard say that he would prefer to do things the hard way—" She swallowed. "I don't think they ever intended on holding up their end of the deal. Not really."

She closed her eyes again, shaking her head. "And if they were just going to lay waste to the city… Celestia help me, I didn't even want to consider what they might do to a pegasus that had lived her whole life below the clouds. There was no choice. There may never have been, once I made that deal." She locked eyes with him, breathing heavily through her nose. "We had to flee."

Tap tilted his head. "Why come here, though?"

"My family is from Hollow Shades." Tap squinted at her. She paused, then waved a hoof. "Not recently, of course. When the Stable under the city opened, several generations ago, my ancestors were among those who emerged into the Equestria we know today."

He tilted his head the other way. "You came here because you're the descendant of some Hollow Shades Stable ponies?

"Friendship City was our home. I couldn't think of anywhere else in Equestria that we might go where we wouldn't be bothered, and I thought that, maybe, coming here might give me some sense of direction." She sighed and shook her head. "But… for a number of reasons, that turned out to be another poor decision in a recent spree of poor decisions."

"It happens," he offered.

Raspberry propped her head up with one foreleg, moving the bowl around with the other fore hoof. "It shouldn't. She didn't deserve any of this." Raspberry sighed once more, pushing the bowl away from herself. "She just wanted to help. She always wanted to help."

Double Tap's brow furrowed. Before he could say anything, she pushed herself away from the counter, slowly trotting through the kitchen.

"Help yourself to the soup," she said, holding the freezer door open. "I'm going to lie down for a while. I've lost my appetite."

True to her words, she laid out on her side, blanketing the bedroll with her pomegranate bulk. He watched for several moments, then turned his attention to the soup.

It wasn't visibly steaming anymore, but he could still feel warmth radiating from the broth as he brought his lips to the edge of the bowl. Suppressing the anxious chills, he took a sip and swallowed. The taste cascaded over his tongue and down the back of his throat like liquid gold. Several sips later, and he had not yet dropped dead. He spent a moment staring at the granules of seasoning at the bottom of the bowl as he swallowed the last mouthful. The aftertaste complimented the warmth in his belly, and death never came.

He glanced over at the freezer again. Raspberry noticed his gaze, but didn’t quite lock eyes with him.

"Well?" she asked, turning an ear in his direction.

Tap nodded. "That was really good."

|[BAR]|[BAR]|[BAR]|

Chapter 12 - Probational Period

Chapter Twelve – Probational Period

|[o’o ]|[ /_\ ]|[  7 ]|

Double Tap nudged the dial with the back of his hoof, making the flame from the pre-war stove climb high enough to lick the sides of the pan. A moment later, Raspberry swatted his hoof away and turned it back down. Tap frowned.

"It's not hot enough," he explained.

Raspberry Tart smirked and shook her head. "No, but it will be soon. You need to be patient or you'll burn it."

Tap sighed quietly and sat back on his haunches, restlessly watching the slab of raw meat in the center of the pan. A dry, crackling sound very gradually rose up out of it. He looked to Raspberry expectantly.

"Now what?"

"Now you need to make sure it doesn't stick." She lifted a hoof as Tap wrapped the pan in his magic. "It's okay to leave it alone for now, since it just started to sizzle, but if you leave it for too long it will burn to the pan."

"How did you learn all this stuff?" he asked without looking away.

"Hmm?"

Tap spared a quick glance in her direction, noting her tilted head. "You know." He flicked his hoof idly. "Like cooking, or potion making."

"Well, I taught myself a great deal through books and the like, but I have my mother and father to thank for instilling such a passion in me." She had a fond, thoughtful look on her face when he glanced her way again. "I dare not imagine who I would be without their guidance."

"Must be nice," Tap murmured.

Raspberry pursed her lips. "Your relationship with your parents was not ideal, I assume?"

Tap shook his head. "I loved my dad." His ears wilted. "He was just… taken away from me, when I was still young."

"Oh." The sizzling of meat filled the lull in conversation. "I'm sorry," she eventually offered.

He shrugged. "Nothing I can do about it."

"Now," Raspberry answered.

Tap blinked. "Well yeah, there's nothing I can do about it now; it happened when I was—" He gave her a sideways glance.

Raspberry was gesturing to the pan. "I meant now as in, it's time to move the meat."

"Oh, uh, fuck. Right." He levitated it off the burner, glancing over for additional instructions.

"You have to shake the pan around, darling." She moved her hoof in a sawing motion. "Back and forth." The pan and meat moved as a static object in his telekinetic grasp, and she added, "Hold it by the handle."

The glow of his magic receded until only the handle remained in his hold. He shook the pan around until the sizzling meat began to slide with the motions. "So your parents were cooks in Friendship City or something?"

"Or something," Raspberry repeated with amusement in her voice. "They were not chefs by trade, nor did they operate out of Friendship City. I come from a family of alchemists and herbalists." She waved a hoof at the edge of his vision. "You can set it down on the burner. We don't want the pan to cool."

Tap did as instructed, then looked over at her. He had seen her smirk and grin in shades of spite and smugness, but presently, her smile was something genuine, even content. It faded as she met his gaze and arched a brow.

"Alchemists and herb-a-whats?"

"Herbalists," she corrected. "What I mean to say is, my family's profession was potion crafting."

"Isn't that, like—" He paused, trying to find the words, but settled for, "Zebra stuff?"

Raspberry furrowed her brow. "Do you use healing potions?"

"Well yeah," Tap answered.

She lazily pointed in his direction. "Are you a zebra?"

He blinked, glancing down at his forehooves. "Uh, no?"

She nodded slowly. "Then it follows that potions are not exclusively for zebras." With a chuckle and an eye roll, she added, "Though, it doesn't surprise me that some ignorant pony with active magic at their disposal would think it alien to rely on the combined properties of flora and fauna."

Tap snorted. "Fuck off, I didn't mean it like that. And if you're such a damn good potion maker, why don't you whip up some healing potions for this?" He gestured angrily to his black eye and bruised cheek.

"I lack the ingredients at present." Raspberry shrugged, smirking. "I would need to either procure them in the wild or purchase them from an apothecary." She looked over at him, eyes flicking to the stove. "You should flip that now, unless you prefer your meat well done."

"How cooked is that?" he asked.

"Very."

Tap levitated the slab of meat off the pan, turned it over, and let it flop back down. The sizzling swelled in volume. "A-poth-e-canary?" He turned his eyes toward her. "Is that like, that weird little shop in Tenpony with all the salts and plants and animal parts and shit?"

Raspberry snorted out a laugh, shaking her head. "You certainly have an interesting way of describing things. But yes, that would be an apothecary." She paused, glancing to the side. "Though, given the choice, I'd prefer to purchase my supplies from a traveling merchant. Their prices tend to be more reasonable."

"Yeah, my dad used to sell stuff like that pretty cheap when he could find it." He shrugged. "I never really understood why people would want to buy leaves and sticks or carnicero wings."

"Your father was a merchant?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Yeah. Actually, I kinda remember him trading with this family of herba-whatevers whenever we ran this one route." Tap smiled fondly. "He would make a list with little drawings of plants, and tell me to find as many as I could. I would get to keep whatever caps he made selling the stuff to them."

Raspberry's expression had become very serious when he met her gaze again. He cocked an ear.

Very slowly, she asked, "Your father… what was his name?"

A series of sharp pops cut through the silence. Double Tap looked up from the stove and pulled the shotgun to his side, turning for the door.

"Turn off the burner first," Raspberry scolded from behind him. He was already two steps out of the kitchen.

Tap prowled through the cafeteria, sticking to the shadows cast by the late day sun. His ears flicked and swiveled, listening closely for the popping, and instead hearing an unearthly, rasping choir. The screams echoed in from the street, through the vacant window frames. He approached cautiously. Being pursued by a mob of ghouls was not an experience he wanted to repeat. Peering through the vines, he could see the ghouls swarming through side streets and over hills of rubble several blocks away. Their distant cries reverberated off the trees and buildings, but he couldn't see what had gotten their attention.

A series of rockets suddenly shrieked up over the rooftops, erupting into brilliant and colorful displays that trickled down into crackling trails of light. Fireworks. There was another sound, slowly getting louder with every passing moment. A sound like a wailing guitar. He recognized the riff after several seconds.

Rita? he mused. What the fuck are you doing?

The sound of hoofbeats drew his attention. He glanced over as Raspberry came up beside him, trying her best to step lightly.

"What is that?" she whispered, squinting through a gap in the vines.

Tap shrugged. "I think it's Leaf and Rita? I can't think of anyone else who would be playing music or setting off fireworks in a place like this."

Raspberry frowned. "You're not really willing to allow them to eat me alive, are you?"

"Nah," he said with a chuckle. "I owe you that much for showing me how cooking works."

She gave him a sideways glance, lips tense. "And what would it take to make you reconsider turning me in?"

"You know I can't," he sternly replied.

"I could pay you," she said, turning to face him. "What are they offering? I'll pay you double... triple. You can do whatever you like with it; split it, keep it for yourself, give it to charity—"

Tap cocked an ear, brow furrowing. "Raspberry."

"You've been under her talon for years," she continued, eyes wide. "This is your chance! You can retire and live freely!"

"Raspberry, you fucked up." He took a step toward her, eyes narrowed. "You really fucked up, and a lot of ponies were killed because of it."

Raspberry sneered, shaking her head. "Who the hell do you think you are? Don't try and take the high road, assassin!" She stomped, snorting. "As if you weren't guilty of your own misdeeds! Your own mistakes!"

"Knock Knock!" Rita's voice boomed over a crackling loudspeaker. "I'm here! Gimmie some kinda signal!"

Tap floated the shotgun between himself and Raspberry, glaring at her as he threateningly pumped a shell into the chamber. He looked out the window again, keeping her in the corner of his vision. The swarm of ghouls was a lot closer now; so close, he could see that they weren't charging in any particular direction. Instead, they were surging around a single point like a swarm of insects, literally crawling over one another. He still had no idea who or what was at the eye of the storm, but it certainly couldn't be Rita. He imagined Leaf Marine with a speaker on her back, while Paharita broadcasted from a safe place. The whole squirming mass was less than a block away now. Tap gritted his teeth, anxious about doing something that might bring them charging. He pointed his horn out the window and fired off several flash spells in quick succession.

"I seeee yoooou!" Rita sang. "If you would be so kind as to escort the esteemed Fatty-Fats to the main entrance foyer, I'll be joining you shortly!"

"Alright, you heard the bitch." He stepped away from the window, vaguely pointing the barrel of the shotgun in Raspberry's direction. "Let's get moving."

She looked to Tap, tail flicking. Tap snorted and maintained a hardened expression.

Raspberry inhaled sharply and said, "As much as I would love to—"

"Cut the shit, Raspberry. Let's go." Tap waved the barrel toward the other side of the room.

Raspberry pawed at the floor, looking back and forth between him and the exit. "If you would simply allow me—"

Tap narrowed his eyes. "You're not getting out of this. It's time to own up to what you did."

"I—" Raspberry looked to the floor, ears splaying. "I want to say goodbye first," she said quietly.

Tap suddenly lost his nerve. "Alright," he said after a short pause, lowering the shotgun. "Go ahead."

Raspberry nodded and stepped away from him, slowly trotting through the moss and grass. He followed for several steps, then abruptly stopped. This, he realized, was something she probably wanted to do alone. Tap watched as she knelt down at the spot where Digit had been laid to rest. Her eyes closed and her head bowed as her lips moved silently. It all seemed very familiar. He looked away, moving back to the window.The swarm of ghouls was right outside now, their withered forms thrashing and pushing past one another several stories below. He looked over his withers and saw that Raspberry had gotten to her hooves, though she continued to stare down at the grave.

An explosion rocked the building moments later, shaking dust and chunks of concrete from the ceiling, followed by another not long after that.

"Good grief," Raspberry groaned, looking up from the grave. "Would another minute have been too much to ask for?!" Tap stayed rooted to the spot, unsure of how to respond, but shortly after her outburst she came trudging up to him, a miserable scowl on her face. "I'm ready."

|[o8- ]|[  7 ]|[(  ) ]|

The hallway leading into the main entrance foyer had collapsed. Slabs of concrete lay in a great heap, with jagged ends of rebar and pipe jutting out through the dusty air. Water, brown with rust, splashed over the debris. It was barely audible, because somewhere on the other side of the blockage, the thunder of guns raged so intensely that the floor trembled. Tap held the shotgun close and stayed low to the ground. Raspberry's heavy hoofbeats sounded at random behind him, as though she were anxiously shifting her weight.

"Is it the Justifiers?!" she shouted over the roar of gunfire.

Double Tap didn't answer. His ears flicked and swiveled as he picked up a new sound, coming closer by the second; thumping, accompanied by hissing and rattling. He pointed the shotgun down the corridor and backpedaled. The mound of rubble heaved, stirring up more dust. Raspberry's shocked exclamation was lost as the hallway shook so hard that new cracks spiderwebbed under Tap's hooves.

For several seconds the shooting and rumbling ceased, replaced with screeching vocals and a screaming guitar. And then, just as suddenly, a doorway and the surrounding wall on the left side of the hall shattered outward around a massive, lumbering figure. Even through the dense cloud of dust, it was plain to see that the silhouette did not belong to Leaf Marine. Several beams of light swept over the hall, settling on Tap. In that same instant, ghouls began to pour in through a doorway on the other side of the hall. The spotlights swung around as the figure turned. Every heavy step sent shockwaves through the floor, and then the dust cloud lit up with muzzle flashes.

Tap turned and saw that Raspberry was already in the process of retreating, tail flying as she galloped as fast as her elephantine legs would carry her. He followed her example. The thick, wet sound of splattering meat echoed with the gunfire, drowning out the guttural cries of pain that were cut short mid-scream. An explosion tugged at his mane and tail, pelting him with fragments as he neared the double doors at the end of the hall. He glanced back just in time to see the hallway coming down behind him. Tap barreled through the doorway, coughing as he emerged from the thickest of the dust. His ears buzzed, muting everything but his pulse. Raspberry paced anxiously ahead of him, ears folded back. Her mouth moved, but he could barely make out what she was saying. He was about to call out to her when he felt the floor shudder behind him.

He wheeled around, shotgun leveled.

A broad metal face stared back at him, streaked with copious amounts of the black ichor that ghouls bleed. Six points of yellow light pierced the heavy air, joined by spotlights on its head. He stumbled back, keeping the shotgun between himself and this hulking machine. Several tense seconds of stillness followed as he debated pulling the trigger. The sound of griffon music flooded his thoughts as his hearing returned.

"Oh man!" Rita squawked through a speaker. "You should see your face right now!"

Squinting, Tap lowered the shotgun took another step back.

The figure before him resembled an industrial boiler with legs. It was definitely power armor, if a suit of power armor had been scaled up to the point that it nearly filled a doorway. The faceplate appeared vaguely equine in shape, smooth and streamlined, but completely lacked lenses or a visor. Six small, yellow lights were set into the metal, arranged in triangular groups of three around where lenses would have been. Beyond that, only a few faint seam lines were visible where he assumed it had been welded together.

Its neck was short, thick, and segmented, disappearing into a solid metal collar that came up around the base, where the neck met the torso. Some bands were black and iridescent, like Enclave power armor, while others bore the cold, galvanized look of the Steel Rangers. The legs had the same mixed appearance, broad as tree trunks, but with much heavier plating over the joints. Thick slabs of metal were also arranged horizontally over the immense barrel of a body, like plate-mail, obscuring it for the most part. The plating didn't appear to be Steel Ranger or Enclave in origin, looking drab and worn, charred black around the rough edges.

An enormous cannon was mounted over its withers, protruding past the neck on the left. He could see some kind of drum magazine with a shielded feed ramp hanging over the left side, bolted into place. As a clear afterthought, a launch tube had been duct taped to the right side with a trigger mechanism crudely wired into the armor, a curved magazine of rocket propelled grenades protruding atop it.

The whole thing had Rita's name all over it.

A sharp hiss cut through the air as the armor knelt down, and the music cut out as the back splayed open like a hatch. His eyes focused on Paharita as she climbed up out of the suit. She hopped off, gave her wings a shake, and dusted herself off with one claw, then the other. Apparently satisfied she looked to Tap with a big, toothy smile around her beak. The gesture was not returned.

Rita pouted. "Aw, it's been like, two weeks! Don't mess up our reunion by being a sourpuss!"

Tap took a deep, slow breath through his nose. "You fucking abandoned me with—"

"Why is Chunky Butt not gagged?" she interrupted, waving a claw at Raspberry.

"Because it's in rather poor taste to talk to oneself extensively." Raspberry Tart chuckled and added, "But don't fault him, darling. Even a foal could have undone that knot."

Rita shook her head. "I told you to keep her tied up and gagged, dummy!" She stepped past Tap, giving him a look of scrutiny in the process. "And why’s your eye all jacked up? What the heck have you been doing?"

"Rita," he roared, "shut the fuck up! You fucking ditched me here with no way to defend myself, barely any supplies—" Tap took a step forward, looming over Rita as she shrank away from him. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!" Rita opened her beak, but he lifted a hoof to close it. "Seriously! Don't even start with me you fucking cunt!"

Rita sat completely still for a moment, the pin-prick pupils of her wide eyes reflecting Tap's glaring face. Her brow trembled, eyelids twitching, and then she put on a glare of her own.

"What-ever!" She put her palm in his face and shifted away from him. "You can cry and moan once we cash this big, flabby paycheck."

Raspberry raised a brow. "Well darling, now that you've gotten the attention of what is likely the entire city's rather ripe population, how exactly do you plan on extraditing us?" She tilted her head, smirking. "Would you like us slip out the back and slink away like rodents while you continue your joyride in your glorified security blanket?"

Rita waved a claw, shaking her head. "Puh-lease." She then gestured to the enormous suit of power armor behind her. "You're riding out of here in style!"

Raspberry looked from Rita to the mechanized armor and back again. She frowned and said, "Absolutely not."

"Mmmmkay, you don't actually have a choice here." Rita fished the taser out of her flak jacket, donning a wide grin as she waved it in Raspberry's direction. "Get in, tubbo."

"Yeah uh, you wanna put the fugitive in the big, weaponized suit of power armor?" Tap asked as he leaned in front of Rita.

She raised a brow. "Psh, really? You think I didn't program the thing with weapon locks when I made it specifically to carry her?"

"And I'm truly and sincerely flattered that you would go to such lengths for me," Raspberry interjected. She turned up her nose and added, "But I refuse to board that awful contraption."

Tap sighed quietly as Raspberry looked to him. "Just climb in the damn thing and get it over with."

"I will do no such thing." Raspberry focused on Rita again, furrowing her brow. "I'd much prefer to avoid being crushed and mangled by your shoddy workmanship."

Rita chuckled and retorted, "I know you're just worried you might break it, or it'll be a tight fit, but don't you worry. This bad girl is built for comfort." She narrowed her eyes and thrust the taser in Raspberry's direction. "Now get in."

Raspberry took a step back, wrinkling her nose. Tap could plainly see that the situation was going nowhere fast. Rita was still grinning when he wrenched the taser out of her grasp with his telekinesis. Her claw opened and closed reflexively, then she scowled in Tap's direction.

"What is your problem, mister?" She took a swipe at the floating taser. "If you wanna zap her, just ask!"

Tap ejected the leads from the taser, keeping it well out of Rita's reach. "Raspberry, you can either leave with us, or with the Justifiers, or get ripped apart by ghouls. Take your pick."

"Are you worried I'll wound her pride by insisting on traveling by my own hooves?" Raspberry asked, sneering.

"No, but there's a fuck-ton of ghouls out there," he said as he waved his hoof toward the collapsed hallway. "Rita can fly, I can run and hide, and we're not giving you a weapon or letting you make one of those thick-skin potions, so that makes you a big, walking snack for them." He waved his hoof at the power armor. "So stop wasting time and get in the fucking robot, Raspberry."

Raspberry stared at him for a long moment, frowning intensely. She sighed deeply and nodded. Tap hesitantly returned the taser to Rita, raising a brow as she snatched it out of his levitation field.

"It's reassuring to know that at least one of you possesses some degree of patience and rationality," Raspberry said as she waddled around to face Rita. "And I do hope piloting this monstrosity does not require your level of obsessive finesse."

Paharita smirked. "Don't worry, it practically drives itself."

Wearing a look of suspicion, Raspberry slowly approached the kneeling power armor, beginning her awkward climb. Tap glanced around anxiously, listening to the muted growls and hisses echoing through the building. He stepped up beside Rita, glowering down at her.

"You think maybe Leaf can give her a boost to speed this along?" He looked around again, ears perked. "Where is she, anyway?"

"She's not here," Rita replied simply.

Tap blinked, then scrunched up his face. "What do you mean she's not here? Where is she?"

A shrug was her only real response. Tap gawked, mouth hanging open. Rita tapped her pip buck a few times as Raspberry hesitantly squeezed into the the suit. Raspberry raised her voice to say something, but managed little more than a yelp as the hatch closed on top of her with a sharp hiss. Rita grinned with satisfaction and gestured for Tap to follow. The floor began to rumble, and he turned to watch the power armor stomp around in a half circle, demolishing the doorway in the process. Seconds later, the speakers began to blast heavy metal at teeth rattling volume. The suit plowed through a wall and out of sight, bringing the ceiling down not long after.

Brow furrowed, Double Tap stepped into a hurried trot to catch up with his migraine inducing partner.

"Rita, where the fuck is Leaf Marine?!"

Rita let off a long, frustrated groan. "She got all mopey when we were done salvaging, cause she thought she was the only hellhound left or whatever, and I was all oh you don't know about the hellhounds living around the Everfree Forest? And she was all thanks for the hot tip gotta go!" She glanced back at him, flicking her tail in his face before he could say anything. "And why is it my responsibility to know where she is? She's your dog!"

The growling from down the hall prevented Tap from cursing her out. Rita's PipBuck went dark with a click, followed by the dull, telltale zap of a stealth buck. Tap flattened against a wall, muttering under his breath.

|[  7 ]|[BAR]|[o’o ]|

"Hello?!" Raspberry shouted, muffled by the armor she had been effectively trapped inside. "I can hear you out there! Release me at once!"

Double Tap frowned as he looked at the power armor, still caked with rancid ghoul blood and shreds of leathery flesh. He almost felt sorry for them, how easily they had been ripped to pieces by gunfire and utterly trampled by the suit's heavy, metal hooves. Despite the way they had ferociously chased him, he found himself hoping that they were as mindless and feral as their behavior led most to believe. The nature of feral ghouls was not the only thing on his mind, however.

"So it's like a toy, then?" he asked, glancing between Rita and the power armor.

Rita rolled her eyes, perched on a towel spread over the back of the suit. "Just because something is remote controlled doesn't make it a toy, dummy." Tap scowled, and Rita snickered. "Look, the important thing is that The Potbelly does what I tell it to do."

Raspberry Tart made a sound like a growling animal. "Paharita," she screamed, "could you at least turn the monitors on so that I can see where the hell we're going or what's happening out there?!"

Laughing, Rita thumped on the back of the helmet with a balled claw. "Quiet down in there, canned ham!"

Tap chewed his lip for several moments, then said, "She was going to come with us without a fight, you know."

Rita looked over at him from her rotund, mechanized steed. "Hah! Yeah right."

"The Justifiers showed up while I was guarding her."

A series of blinks followed. Rita narrowed her eyes. "The Justifiers, huh?" She shook her head. "Those bozos are super sketchy. You know their leader has refused to meet with me or give us work?"

"Yeah well, I met the guy, I think. Big motherfucker called Rhino." He glanced over his withers, ears swiveling. "Anyway, I thought they were gonna kill me and take Raspberry for themselves, but when I mentioned you, he just kinda backed off and all his reinforcements followed."

Rita had sat up when he looked over at her again, holding the underside of her beak with two talons. She finally shrugged. "What a buncha weirdos.” She flexed her forelimbs unconvincingly. “But at least they know better than to mess with all this!"

Tap snorted and rolled his eyes. "So like I was saying, she said she would rather stick with us than get grabbed up by them."

"Uh-huh," Rita said boredly.

He looked ahead. "And since we're not in Hollow Shades anymore—"

Rita thumped on the side of The Potbelly, jolting his attention back to her. "Uh, hello? You better not be suggesting what I think you're suggesting!"

He raised a brow. "Without her potions or a gun, she won't be that hard to keep in line, so yeah, I'm saying you should let her out of there."

"What is wroooong with you," she whined. "We don't take requests from prisoners!"

"Yeah I know she's a prisoner and whatever but—" Tap looked at the head of the armor, then back to Rita. "Are you really gonna keep her locked in that thing all the way to Stable Twenty-Nine?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "I sure am!"

"What if gets hungry or she has to use the bathroom?" He asked, frowning.

"Lard-and-in-charge has been way overdue for a diet, and I'm gonna hose it out after we deliver her!" She tapped the side of her head. "Duh!"

Tap sneered with disgust. "That's fucked up! Let her out of there!"

Rita shook her head.  "No way! You give her an inch and she'll take a mile, and then strangle you with it!"

"I already told you that she said she was going to cooperate, jackass!"

"Ughhh! See, this is why I told you to keep her gagged! Fatty-Fats opens her mouth, and now you want to let her be all free range pork!" Rita shook her head and jabbed a talon down at him. "I don't know what she said to you, but you work for me," she said, hooking her thumb toward her chest, "and don't you forget it!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, squinting. "I work for you?"

Smirking, Rita crossed her forearms. "It means that what I say goes, glue-for-brains! I'm the boss!"

Tap's jaw hung open as he came to an abrupt stop. "Holy shit. She was right."

"Wait, what?" she squawked. The power armor under her grinded to a halt.

"We're supposed to be fucking partners!" He stomped and thrashed, glaring up at her. "But we're not partners, are we?! You've been making me follow a carrot on a stick this whole fucking time!"

It was Paharita's turn to stare down at him, beak agape. "Okay, obviously she's feeding you lies, and you bought into them like a total sucker!"

"Bullshit!" He jabbed a hoof at her, ears laid back and teeth gritted. "Every time I suggest something or disagree with something— say I'd rather take a different job, or ask to know how much a job is worth, or what my cut will be when we get paid— it's, oh you don't know what you're talking about! What a dumb thing to say! I'm not going to let you put it in me if you don't do what you're told!" He slammed his hoof down, grinding it through the dirt. "You've been doing this shit to me for years!"

"Yeah well—" She furrowed her brow, eyes darting. "I uh—" She threw her claws in the air. "You're a chem addict who used to pay jerks to let you hunt down raiders. You aren't good with caps and you steal everything anyway, so excuse me, princess, for looking out for your best interest!"

"Fuck you! I can't believe I let you get away with this shit!" He turned away and trudged ahead without them. "Go fuck yourself! I am fucking done!"

Rita let out a roar of frustration in his wake. "Oh! My! Gosh!" she shouted after him. "You little cry baby! Fine! You want to take the pearl out of the oyster? Whatever!"

He glanced back at her as she stabbed at her PipBuck. She slipped over the side of The Potbelly and the back hissed open soon after.

"But since you're having such a fit about getting paid all the sudden, if we get less money because she gets injured or killed thanks to your stupid decision, it's coming out of your half of the bounty!"

Raspberry's enormous backside wiggled up out of the hatch, accompanied by a grunt of effort. Her tail flicked about as her haunches shuddered, struggling to step out of the armor one rear hoof at a time.

"Oh, and P.S." Rita yelled, trudging up to him, "she's only alive because I wouldn't let you and your dumb dog kill her!" She jabbed a talon into Tap's chest and added, "So why don't you think about that for a minute, genius!"

Scraping and thumping pulled Tap's eyes back toward The Potbelly. Raspberry had finally managed to get traction, now in the process heaving herself through the opening in reverse. Her hind legs splayed over the rear of the armor, belly spreading out under her, and then a foreleg clamored against the ridge of the hatch, followed by the other. Gasping and even more red than usual, her head finally emerged from the depths, mane clinging wetly to her face and neck. She pushed herself away from the hatch, sliding roughly down the rear of the armor and landing shakily on solid ground. Her wide eyes scanned her surroundings, sweeping over Tap before settling on Rita and narrowing.

"You sicken me," Raspberry hissed.

Rita rolled her eyes and without so much as looking back at Raspberry, she quipped, "Right back at ya, Jabber Jowls." She stepped away from Tap, waving her tail in his face. "Zero out of ten for the dismount, too."

Raspberry wrinkled her nose and shook her head. She next turned her gaze on Tap. "You, on the other hoof— Thank you for once again showing the compassion that some of us clearly lack."

"It's not a big deal," he offered with a shrug.

"Still," Raspberry continued, approaching slowly, "you have my thanks."

He shook his head, shifting his weight. "Really, it's nothing. Just, you know… you're our prisoner, but you're still a pony."

She smiled. "Of course. Well, before I reach my final destination, you're welcome to more cooking lessons if you'd like them."

Tap smiled too, nodding. "Yeah, that'd be pretty cool."

Paharita clasped her claws together, holding them to her cheek. "Awwww, you guys are like best friends now."

She reached into her flak jacket, producing a holo-tape recorder, which she then threw on the ground and pounded with her fist for nearly a minute. Tap and Raspberry exchanged looks.

Through a clenched beak, Rita growled, "I have to go fix this.” She scooped up the fragments of the holo-tape recorder with her bloodied claws and yelled, “Seeya later, Knock Knock!"

"Yeah bye, fuck-face!" he shouted with a sneer.

Rita leapt up onto The Potbelly with a flap of her wings, blowing up a cloud of dust. In seconds, she had disappeared into the armor, closing the hatch behind her. Drums and guitar and vocals resonated through the hull. Double Tap snorted and shook his head.

He looked to Raspberry, and furrowed his brow as he noticed that she was staring at him with one brow raised. "Uh, what's up?"

"What did she just call you?" she asked as her head canted to one side.

Tap glanced away, idly pawing at the dirt. "It's uh—" He met her gaze again, trying to suppress his embarrassment. "That's my real name."

Raspberry tilted her head the other way. "I thought that your name was Double Tap."

"No. It's not." His ears splayed slightly. "I just thought it sounded cooler or something, I dunno."

"I should have guessed that was a fake name," she said, snickering. "To be perfectly frank, Knock Knock sounds much less ridiculous than Double Tap."

Tap grinned awkwardly and shrugged. "It's not any dumber than walking up to someone and saying, hi, my name is Knock Knock!" Tap let out a long sigh. "But, yeah, that's the name my dad gave me. Every time he said my name and someone fucking said ‘who’s there,’ he would bust out laughing. He loved bad jokes."

"Your father—" Raspberry's expression become distant, lips pursed in silence for several seconds. Her eyes shot wide open and locked with his own. "Wait, you're Bargain Bin's son?!"

"That's— Yeah." He flicked an ear, giving her a cockeyed look. "How did you know that?"

He had never seen her grin with such enthusiasm. "Your father traded with my family!" She lifted a hoof, excitedly gesturing toward him. "The herbs and such you would gather, remember?"

Tap's eyes widened as well. "Oh shit. Are you fucking with me here or what?"

Chuckling quietly, she answered, "I am most certainly not fucking with you. How is that delightful cornball?" Immediately after asking, she gritted her teeth and glanced away. “Oh… terribly sorry.”

A sigh and a shrug was Tap’s reply.

Raspberry tilted her head a bit, craning her neck from side to side as she studied his face. "But goodness, I didn't even recognize you. You were such a tiny little thing back then."

He squinted as he tried to remember his time spent traveling with his father, gathering herbs and seeds to sell to a family of alchemists that lived along one of their routes. Very fuzzy memories began to surface; faceless ponies talking with his father and laughing at his jokes, or haggling intensely over the goods Tap had so proudly gathered. There were always several ponies in the background as well, busy with grinding or mixing or boiling, a few of them around Tap's age. Only one of them even remotely resembled Raspberry Tart. A young mare with a blonde mane and tail, and a pomegranate coat, several years older than him. He couldn't remember her cutie mark, but she had definitely been heavyset, and seemed to become moreso with every visit.

The last few times Tap could remember trading with her family, it was Raspberry that had been doing business with his father.

"Wow, what the fuck," he idly commented as he was finally able to associate her face with his memories. "I haven't been out that way in a long time. Is your family—"

Raspberry shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not. After my mother passed away, we dispersed."

Tap nodded slowly. "Sorry to hear that."

"Oh, not at all," Raspberry said, smiling. "She lived to a ripe old age. Anyway, my father moved down to New Oreins to live with my uncle and his family, and my brothers and sister went their separate ways." Her smile faded. "Of course, I fell out of touch with most of my family not long after becoming a prominent member of Friendship City's economic and political atmosphere. I felt that struggling in the dirt was a short-sighted approach to rebuilding society, and they disapproved of my business practices."

Tap shrugged. The Potbelly lurched and clanked, then began to lumber forward. He took a step after it and looked back at Raspberry. Sighing, she begrudgingly followed.

"And in the long run," she muttered from behind him, "I suppose they were right."

|[ /_\ ]|[o8- ]|[ /_\ ]|

Double Tap shook his head. "No, they're cool folks. Trust me."

"My experiences with Red Eye's diplomats have been less than pleasant," Raspberry replied, "so forgive my skepticism."

Tap glanced around. The barren fields on the outskirts of Fillydelphia were familiar surroundings. He could occasionally catch glimpses of the city skyline over the hills and through the trees. The flora in the area seemed to be responding well to sunlight. Tree branches rustled with stronger leaves, and the grass was growing in thicker and fuller than he had ever seen it. The unobscured sun did little to remove scars from the great war, of course; ponds of thick, bubbling, irradiated sludge and grossly mutated wildlife persisted in the adjusting landscape. They were coming up on the clearing that Pestilence and Steppin' Razor had led them to nearly a month prior, if passing the barn still littered with bones and segments of power armor were any indication.

"These aren't diplomats. These are soldiers and scientists and ponies that lived in Fillydelphia before the Steel Rangers took it." He nodded down the sunlit path, which was largely obscured by the enormous silhouette of The Potbelly ahead of them. "Rita knows a lot of them. They're not raiders or slavers or anything like that."

Raspberry raised a brow. "Their relationship with Paharita is not at all helping your case." She looked past him, toward the metal haunches of the power armor, and twisted her lips. "Speaking of, is this typical behavior for her?"

Tap tilted his head. "Huh?"

"Well, I'm grateful for the peace and quiet, make no mistake—"

Raspberry Tart nodded up at Paharita, who was seated on the back of The Potbelly, holo-tape recorder in one claw and beak clicking away with barely any pauses to breathe. She had been doing this for almost two days straight, taking occasional breaks for sleep, food, or thinly veiled attempts at getting Tap to pay attention to her. Sometimes she would ride out in the open, on the back of the power armor, and sometimes she would seal herself away inside of it. She had apparently become obsessed with talking to the recorder, and even stranger, speaking for the recorder, as though it were responding to her. It was admittedly not the weirdest thing he had ever seen her do, and this was not the first time he had ever seen her do it, but the amount of time she was spending doing it bordered on concerning.

"I had never imagined her to be someone who spends more time talking into a holo-tape recorder than to her traveling companions," Raspberry explained.

Tap sighed and shrugged. "Who fucking knows. This is probably some weird tactic to make me feel jealous or something." He folded his ears back, looking ahead. "It's like she doesn't fucking get it. All she does is piss me off, and then she acts like I'm the asshole when—"

Double Tap trailed off as he noticed movement further down the road; silhouettes shifting through the brush, much too large to be parasprites. He slowed and motioned for Raspberry to do the same. The Potbelly came to an abrupt, hissing stop and as Rita peered around the head of the suit, she lifted her PipBuck to her beak. The speakers crackled to life.

"Yeah, I know you're there and I've definitely got you outgunned," Rita droned. "You can either step on up and get destroyed or you can play nice."

Several seconds of tense and awkward silence followed. At last, a muffled voice announced, “Stand down.”

The owner of that voice was Pestilence, emerging from the brush on the left side of the road in a group of two other ponies. His gas mask protruded from the ghillie suit he had draped over himself, the others similarly dressed in camouflage. An alicorn followed from the right, stepping onto the path and gawking at the Potbelly, joined by others moments later. Tap bristled as a pair of armed ponies broke cover from a few paces behind him. They nodded idly in greeting as they gave the power armor a once over.

“Always a pleasure to see you,” Pestilence said, looking from Rita to Tap. “We haven’t much left in the way of supplies, but I’m sure we can part with a few cans of food if you’re interested in staying for dinner.”

Despite the shock, Tap felt a bit more at ease in the presence of the dozen or so Red Eye remnants. He may not have been able to remember most of their names, but their faces were mostly familiar. The alicorn in particular gave Tap a little smile from around the side of the Potbelly once she had satisfied her curiosity. She had been the one at the entrance on their previous visit, her dark green coat a bit less worn, her mane tied back in a pony tail. He returned the gesture, half listening to Rita as she clicked her beak at Pestilence. The Potbelly lurched forward, being led by Pestilence while most of the rest of the group returned to their ambush positions. The alicorn stayed put, waiting patiently for Tap to come nearer as he and Raspberry followed.

“What happened to your pooch?” the alicorn asked, stepping into a trot alongside Tap.

He shrugged. “Went off looking for family, I guess?”

The alicorn frowned slightly. “She must not have much left after what happened at Maripony. The hellhounds may have been a nuisance to us, but I know how she must feel.” She shook her head. “Poor thing.”

“Did you just refer to yourself in the singular sense?” Raspberry asked.

The alicorn looked over at Raspberry, smiling. “Would you prefer that I refer to myself otherwise?”

Raspberry blinked several times. “You’ll forgive me for being a bit confused, I was just under the impression that alicorns were a part of a sort of hivemind.”

“That was the case until fairly recently," the alicorn answered with a shake of her head. "Goddess no longer binds my sisters and I into a single consciousness. Since her death, the collective has dissolved and we are now free to be as we choose."

"How's that working out for you?" Tap asked as he leaned his head a little closer.

"It was… strange, at first. Strange, and confusing, and a little scary. Being able to think for myself again after such a long time, with no voice to guide me but my own; it's a lot to take in all at once." Her tail flicked as she shifted her weight. "I took it for granted before I became a part of Goddess, but now, I wouldn't trade it for the world.”

She paused, and donned a smile. “Oh, and my name is Honeyglow. I’m glad to see you again, Double Tap." She looked to Raspberry and nodded deeply. "Miss Tart, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Tap and Raspberry exchanged glances. "Yes, of course," Raspberry said awkwardly. "But how did you—"

“Oh!” Tap's eyes lit up, ears perking up straight. “You can still do the mind reading thing even without Goddess, can't you?”

Honeyglow giggled and bowed her head. “I also do hat tricks.” She straightened her long, graceful neck as the procession continued down the path. “But back to what I was saying, I am not a part of we anymore. I am me and no one else.”

Tap squinted as he tried to process that. “So you remember who you were before you became an alicorn?”

“That was a lifetime ago," Honeyglow murmured, her expression becoming distant. "Who I am now is not who I was... but yes, I remember.” She smiled again. "And my memories of you are among the few that I cherish from my time as a part of Goddess."

Raspberry looked between the two of them, one brow raised. "The two of you have met before?"

Honeyglow shook her head. "Aside from his last visit here, not directly." She gave him a sly, sideways glance, her smile becoming more of a grin. "But I definitely remember him."

A blank, confused look had taken residence on Raspberry's round face, her brow wrinkled as she looked to Tap for answers. Tap knew exactly what Honeyglow was talking about.

"So uh—" He chuckled, suddenly feeling bashful. "Was that you? In Fillydelphia?"

"No, but seeing as we all shared the same consciousness, I saw, and heard—" A little shiver ran through Honeyglow, her tail flicking. "And felt every moment of it." She giggled softly, lidding her eyes. "You're quite adventurous."

"Yeah." He grinned and shrugged. "But how many ponies can say that they got to fuck a super-alicorn?"

Raspberry narrowed her eyes at Tap, then turned up her nose. "Yes, well, I think I've heard enough of this conversation." She picked up the pace, her wide rump bouncing as she waddled on ahead.

Tap snickered and started after her. "I probably shouldn't let her wander off alone."

"I already took care of it," Honeyglow said.

On cue, a pony galloped past them, slowing as he came within several paces of Raspberry. Tap was about to ask, but Honeyglow craned her neck down until she was at eye level with him, waggling her brows.

Without moving her lips, he heard her say, "Mind powers!"

Tap tilted his head. "If you can read my mind, how come you used Double Tap and not my real name?"

"That's the name you prefer, right?" she said with a smile.

He nodded, then glanced to the side in thought. "And if you remember your name, what did you mean by... you're not who you were? Like, I know you're not the same pony on the outside, but if you remember who you used to be—"

"Who I used to be died almost a century ago." She frowned, avoiding his eyes. "All my friends, my husband, my children— That life is gone. I'll never get it back. All I have left of it are memories, and my name. While I was a part of Goddess, I didn't even have that. I—" She sighed. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Sorry," Tap offered quietly.

"It's alright. She's gone now, and these memories are mine again, for better or for worse." She took a deep breath and smiled. "And it wasn't all bad, I guess. I got to meet you indirectly, and I got to see all of Equestria and watch it change over the years. Plus, now I can read thoughts and I know spells that I never dreamed of learning."

Tap tilted his head. "Like what? Teleporting and stuff?"

"Mmhmm!" Honeyglow nodded enthusiastically. "I bet I could teach you, if you wanted."

"Uh, I dunno." Tap chewed his lip briefly. "Illusion spells are more my thing."

"Then I can at least show you how to turn invisible," she said with a grin.

"Yeah—" He paused, then nodded. "Yeah, alright. Show me."

|[BAR]|[BAR]|[BAR]|

There weren't as many ponies in the Red Eye camp's mess hall as Tap remembered. It had been so crowded before, and the smell of food had filled the air. Now the cauldrons were cold, and there were less than twenty ponies milling around under the tarp. Some of them were watching Tap with varying degrees of interest as he stood in the clearing in the middle of the makeshift enclosure. Rita was nowhere to be seen, but every now and then, he caught bits of the conversation Raspberry Tart was having with Pestilence. He only caught his attention wandering in time to hear the very end of Honeyglow explaining her invisibility spell.

"And that's pretty much it," she concluded. "When you perform it correctly, it looks something like this."

In the blink of an eye, she faded from view, the only indication of her presence being a hazy, distorted silhouette. It looked almost identical to the cloaking effect of a stealth buck. Just as suddenly, her silhouette solidified, now leaning forward in a deep bow.

"Tadaaaa!"

Tap snickered and stomped his hooves. "Very cool. Now uh… how do I do that?"

Honeyglow jerked out of the bow with a scowl. "I just walked you through it! Weren't you listening?" All he could do was put on a stupid grin and shrug. "Ugh. Fine, let's take this from the top. You start with an incantation. You'll probably have to say it out loud until you get the hang of the spell, but once you've practiced it enough—" She wrinkled her nose as Tap gritted his teeth. "What's that about?"

"I don't really do the incantation thing," he said, pawing at the ground.

Honeyglow tilted her head. "Then how do you cast spells?"

Tap looked away, one ear flicking. "I kinda like… imagine it, but really hard?"

Her expression softened. "You learn and cast through visualization. That's completely legitimate." She cracked a smile and shook her head. "Why didn't you say so sooner? I just wasted half an hour explaining magic theory."

"You sounded really into it and I didn't want to bum you out," he explained with a shrug. "But if I visualize or whatever, shouldn't I just be able to imagine myself becoming invisible?" He leaned his head to one side. "I've tried that and it doesn't fuckin' work."

"Well of course not." She tapped her hoof against the ground. "You can't just click your hooves and vanish. If you don't use incantations or glyphs, you have to understand and visualize how the spell is working to cast it." She lifted that same hoof to the side of her head, rolling it slowly. "It's kind of like meditating, in a way." She paused. "You know what meditating is, right?"

Tap frowned and snorted.

"Okay, okay. Just making sure." She lifted her head up high and spread her wings. "Okay, get nice and limber and close your eyes, then clear your mind of everything but the sound of my voice."

He glanced around, half-heartedly shaking himself off as he felt himself being watched. He turned toward her again and took a deep breath, exhaling as he let his eyelids descend.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

In the darkness, her words seemed to come from within him more than anything. Something about it felt comforting. He nodded, and again felt her voice reverberate through him.

"I want you to imagine a ray of light, as though it were piercing through the clouds. You are standing in it, illuminated by it. Now, I want you to focus on that beam and bend it. Just a little bit at a time. Make it shift and bend until it's just barely grazing your coat."

As Tap imagined it, she murmured, "Good. Just like that. Now I want you to imagine another beam of light, just like the first. Bend that one too, until it's barely even touching you."

Tap shuddered as Honeyglow emerged in his thoughts, his eyes snapping open. She blinked her own eyes open, staring back at him from just an inch away from his face. At first, he felt like recoiling; feeling her enter his mind felt too much like a visit from Lady Luck. But then he could feel her horn touching his. A chill of excitement rushed through him, making his sheath tingle. Honeyglow lidded her eyes and rubbed her nose against his.

"Keep that thing holstered until after the lesson, won't you?"

"Alright, alright," he murmured.

Grinning, he nodded and closed his eyes again. She was there waiting for him in his thoughts. The beams of light descended, and he focused on them until they warped around him. They shrank and multiplied, three turning into six, then twelve, then twenty-four, all of them bent around him, rolling off his coat like rivulets of water. Eventually, the beams of light became more numerous than he could count, smaller than he could see, but he was able to divert it all away from his body. This, he understood, would make him harder to see.

"Perfect," Honeyglow whispered. “I think you’re ready to give it a try.”

The air was still when Tap opened his eyes. He seemed to have everyone’s attention now. Honeyglow nodded as she took a step back, the magical resonance of her horn lingering for several seconds after she broke contact. Tap took several deep breaths, focusing all his energy into maintaining the idea of bending light. He narrowed his eyes, his horn glowing. With one more deep breath, he tensed and leaned forward, trying to push the idea through his horn and make it a reality.

Everything dimmed. His horn continued to glow, but the light didn’t carry past the end of his nose. Honeyglow tilted her head from side to side as she looked at him.

“What in the world—” she murmured.

“What’s up?” Tap took a step closer. “Did I do it?”

“You did… something.” She raised a hoof, waving it to the left of his face. Her brow furrowed as her jaw went slack. “What the hell, Double Tap.”

Tap let the glow of his horn fizzle, the dimness dissipating in blotches. “What?!”

Honeyglow visibly bristled, jerking her hoof back as her wide eyes centered on him. “Okay! That definitely wasn’t invisibility.” She cautiously reached out and touched him on the muzzle. “It was like, you were there, but you weren’t at the same time. You were all blurry and I couldn’t get my eyes to focus on you, and when I tried to touch you—.”

“I did what you told me to do,” he muttered.

"Okay, uh—" She glanced around, then looked to him and nodded. "Give it another shot."

Everything went dim again as Tap gave it another try. Honeyglow inhaled through her teeth, eyes narrowed apprehensively. She waved a hoof around, very near to him, but not quite touching him. When she finally bumped the side of his head, she gasped and retracted her foreleg. Frustration began to mount. On his third try, someone laughed. He let go of the spell with a huff, scowling down at the floor.

“Don’t get discouraged,” she said gently. “Invisibility as a concept is easy to understand, but actually grasping how to make yourself invisible takes a bit of time.” She reached out again, tapping her hoof against him before actually letting it settle on his shoulder. “You comprehend the core principal of the spell. I’m sure that if you keep practicing, it will click sooner or later.”

Tap sighed and muttered, “Sure, whatever.”

Honeyglow lifted his muzzle with the tip of her hoof, her smile so warm that he couldn’t help but feel a little better. “How about I show you a shield spell? That’s almost like an illusion spell.”

“Really?”

She shook her head. “No. Not really. But it’s like using telekinesis as defensive magic, and I know you know how to use telekinesis.”

After a few moments of consideration, Double Tap nodded. Honeyglow did the same, leaning forward and touching her horn to his. Tap shuddered again, but got himself under control as she wrinkled her nose at him. He closed his eyes, then cracked one eye open and peered out at her. Her eyes had closed, a look of soft concentration on her face. Waves of magical aura slowly rolled through her horn, making his horn feel very warm as the waves broke over it.

"Focus, Double Tap," she monotoned without opening her eyes.

He cleared his throat and shut his eyes again. As he imagined himself standing in the darkness, he could see Honeyglow standing several paces away, slowly coming closer.

"A shield spell uses a more passive form of telekinesis," she explained, a green bubble enveloping her. "It utilizes the same property of a projected force, but less to move objects and more to prevent objects from entering a defined space." 

Her bubble popped, and she stepped up to him, touching the tip of her horn to his. Tap fought to keep a straight face. She raised a brow, then smiled as he put on a more serious expression.

"I want you to imagine that the aura of your magic is like a balloon, and you're inflating it with the tip of your horn. Make it expand outward until it completely covers you." Once he was sealed inside a glowing amber bubble, she continued. "Now, imagine that aura is impenetrable, strong enough to hold up against the heaviest weights and most powerful of forces. Nothing can pass through it. Not heat, or magic, or bursts of energy, or projectiles. "

Honeyglow stepped back as Tap made a slab of concrete drop onto the bubble, shattering and sliding harmlessly over the sides. She produced a sniper rifle next, squinting down the barrel as she squeezed off several rounds, all of them crumpling harmlessly and dropping away from Tap's shield.

She smiled. "That bubble is your safe place, and nothing can hurt you while you're in there." Her expression became very grave. "Within reason, of course! Don't expect to be able to protect yourself from explosions and high powered rifles right out of the gate. The more you practice, the stronger your shield will become and the longer you'll be able to maintain it." She stepped around him, inspecting the bubble. "Think you're ready to try it?"

Tap nodded, but kept his eyes closed, trying to picture the bubble around himself and feeling his horn glowing fiercely. He peeked out of one eye, expecting to see some kind of barrier around himself. Nothing. He opened both eyes, and still saw nothing.

"Come the fuck on," he groaned.

Honeyglow shook her head. "It's alright. Like you said—"

"Maybe it's invisible or something," he suggested.

"Double Tap, I don't—"

He tensed, pointing his horn forward. "Throw something at me."

Honeyglow took a step back. "I really—"

"Just do it, alright?" he grunted, peering up at her.

Honeyglow frowned, but looked around for a moment. A small rock floated up off the floor and hovered in front of Tap. He clenched his jaw and focused on the idea of a protective bubble, trying his hardest to make the shield manifest. The rock fell forward and bounced harmlessly off the end of his nose.

"Fuck!" Tap spat. "Sorry. One more time, okay?"

"I think we should stop," she said, shifting around uncomfortably. "Maybe I shouldn't be teaching magic after all."

"I can do this," he asserted. "Just let me try."

Honeyglow grimaced, levitating the rock off the floor again. This time, Tap stared at it, imagining it bounce off the bubble that he seemed incapable of creating. She very gently tossed it toward him, and Tap squinted, watching it tumble through the air. Deflect, he commanded. It came within several inches of his face when suddenly, it shot off in another direction, hitting one of the cauldrons so hard that the cauldron made a sound like a tolling bell. Honeyglow looked back at the cauldrons, then locked eyes with Tap, visibly startled.

"That counts… right?" Tap asked with one ear cocked.

"Keep practicing," she said flatly.

He nodded. "What about the teleport spell?"

"Do you really want to—"

"Yes!" He cleared his throat. "Yeah, sorry." She squinted at him, but he shook his head and waved a hoof around. "I'm alright, really."

Honeyglow sighed quietly. Tap closed his eyes as she trotted up and touched her horn to his.

"Imagine a door. It can be in front of you, or behind you, above or below you. It can be anywhere, as long as it's so close that you're practically touching it, or the object you want to teleport is touching it. Now, imagine that there is another door. That door can be anywhere, but for now, we'll say it's within sight of you. On the other side of a room, more or less. The two doors are connected, and open simultaneously. You open the first door, and when you step through it, you arrive on the other side of the second door, and this happens in an instant."

|[BAR]|[(  ) ]|[o8- ]|

The illusion spell that had been cast on the mesh netting was not disrupted by having a pony sized hole put in it, and the camp of the Red Eye remnants continued to resemble an enormous briar patch even from high above. Of all the thoughts going through Double Tap's head, he found it bizarre that this one be given any sort of priority. Tap continued to tumble through the air, the feeling of free fall pushing his stomach up into his esophagus. The landscape that had seemed so distant and far below seconds earlier was getting bigger and closer by the second as he plummeted toward the ground with worrying speed. He tried to teleport again, but couldn't manage enough concentration to pull off the spell.

What a stupid way to die, he mulled.

"Yeah," Honeyglow agreed, "this is pretty dumb."

She appeared next to him in a flash, looking none too amused. The glow of her magic wrapped around him, and as she spread her wings and glided out of the dive, he floated with her. Moments later, she dropped him in a heap on the ground. Tap remained sprawled out on the grass, staring blankly up at the sky.

Honeyglow sat down next to him, sighing deeply. "Maybe practice that over a body of water or something next time. I dunno." She rubbed the side of her head with a hoof. "I suck at teaching."

"Well I teleported, didn't I?" he asked, rolling his eyes toward her.

"No, Double Tap." She shook her head slowly. "No you did not. You physically traveled from point A to point B, like some kind of pony bullet."

"I figured." He debated for a moment, then asked, "Are you still down to fuck?"

Honeyglow snickered quietly. "After that? Not really, no."

Tap sighed. "Yeah, me neither."

The adrenaline rush of a near-death experience left Tap’s legs a bit shaky, but he managed to get his hooves under him and stand without help. Honeyglow rose up beside him, and they slowly made their way back to the camp under the afternoon sun.

“So what’s next for you?” Tap asked, glancing up at her. “Now that you remember who you were and stuff.”

Honeyglow appeared thoughtful for a moment. “Honestly, I’m going to stick with Palace Caravan and his group. I know that a lot of alicorns abandoned Red Eye’s armies after he died, but really, they’re the closest thing to a family that I have left.” She smiled fondly, looking down at Tap. “Palace Caravan didn’t even think twice about letting me stay with them. They were very supportive while I tried to make sense of suddenly having my own identity and stuff.”

She paused for a moment as Tap nodded, and then she said, “You should come with us.”

Tap raised a brow. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I uh—” Her lips tensed as she looked off into the distance. “I’m not allowed to say. But do you really want to go with Paharita and turn Raspberry Tart over to the Friendship City refugees?” She tilted her head. “Or are you just doing it because you don’t know what else to do?”

“What the hell kind of question is that?” Tap muttered through a frown.

Honeyglow shook her head. “Take it from someone who was denied a choice for nearly a hundred years, Double Tap. You should think and act for yourself.”

"Oh, hey," Tap heard someone say from behind him. "When did you get here?"

When Tap twisted his head around, Palace Caravan and Steppin' Razor were staring back at him from the shelter of a rickety grain silo. Palace’s wounds had mostly healed, the dressings significantly smaller and cleaner. Steppin’ Razor looked exactly the same as the last time Tap had seen her, tattered red scarf wrapped around her face and neck, expressionless and unreadable.

Honeyglow stood up straight. "Sorry! Didn't mean to interrupt, had to save this guy's life."

Tap snorted.

"It's actually a good thing that you're here,” Palace said as he approached, stopping a few paces from Tap. “I've got a proposition for you."

Tap arched his brows, looking between the Palace and Steppin’ Razor, who had stayed put under the grain silo. "Yeah? What's up?"

"If you were in camp,” Palace said, gesturing to the illusion of a briar patch in the distance. “I'm sure you noticed that there weren't too many ponies hanging around in there. We're packing up and getting ready to move out."

"I thought you were going to try and take back Fillydelphia?" Tap questioned, squinting slightly.

Palace nodded. "We were, and we got a hold of a few other units to help us with it, but more important priorities have come to light.” He paused for a moment, then stated, “We're scrapping the operation."

Tap gawked in surprise. "What's more important than kicking the Steel Rangers out of your city?"

"I can't give you the specifics until I know for sure that you're with us," Palace answered with a shake of his head.

"Huh?” Tap glanced between the three of them, then back to Palace. “You know I'm on your side."

Palace shook his head again. "It’s not like that. This isn’t about loyalty.” He took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose. “Look, I know the last time you were here, Paharita said you’ve got a lot on your plate right now but whatever it is, you should think about dropping it and coming with us."

Tap shifted uncomfortably, looking to Honeyglow before returning his attention to Palace. "I've got to run Raspberry Tart back to Stable Twenty-Nine."

"Uh, Stable Twenty-Nine is under Steel Ranger control,” Palace said, narrowing his eyes. “That's not such a hot idea if you ask me."

"Yeah I… I dunno.” Tap sighed, ears splaying. “You can't wait till I get back from that?"

Palace shook his head. "If that's where you're going, definitely not.”

“We had come from there the first time we came through,” Tap argued. “It wasn’t a big deal then.”

“Yeah,” Honeyglow interjected, “but we can't risk you having sensitive information while you’re in their midst.”

Palace nodded. “This is different from knowing that we were planning a counter-attack, because in all honesty, I’d be surprised if the Fillydelphia Steel Rangers weren’t anticipating one even before they took the city.” He looked to Steppin’ Razor as she came closer, the razor blades in her hooves clicking softly. “It's not exactly a secret that Paharita has done work for Red Eye. If they decide to interrogate you, or they have an alicorn supporting them, and you know any specifics—”

“It could compromise the operation," Steppin’ Razor stated, her synthetic-sounding voice chiming.

Tap glanced between them. "What operation?"

"What aren’t you understanding here?” Palace grumbled, rubbing the side of his face in frustration. “If you're not coming with us, I can't tell you."

"What the hell.” Tap shuffled his hooves, tail flicking. “You can’t even say where you’re going?

Palace shook his head slowly. "I’m sorry, Double Tap. All I can tell you is that we're leaving Equestria."

Tap’s eyes widened. "Why?"

Palace Caravan glanced back at Steppin' Razor. She nodded, then turned to face Tap, his pupils reflecting in the mirrored lenses that sealed her eye sockets. For several long moments, she stared at him in silence, and Tap half expected her to attack.

Finally, she said, "We've received orders."

|[(  ) ]|[o’o ]|[BAR]|

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Fallout: Equestria - Anywhere but Here

Mature Rated Fiction

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