My first official act as Packrat’s companion was to swat her with my tail. The second was helping her loot Baker’s Cove. The sight of the room from the outside had been atrocious. Nothing could have prepared me for the smell. It was foul. It was moist. It was…-fresh. Cadance not above, some of this had been recent. Packrat had been right about these ponies. They were monsters not fit to live.

Packrat’s nose wrinkled, as she stepped into the room. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, I noticed a steely-glint in her gaze. The same eyes my sister had when she got serious. “I’ll check the ovens. You’re taller, so you look in the cabinets. Sound good?”

I replied by opening the first cabinet. Empty. I moved to the second cabinet. There were two large bowls, a wooden spoon, an eyeball, and an open bag of funfetti. I cringed at the eyeball and closed the cabinet. The third cabinet had a large open bag of sugar. The fourth cabinet held a dead foal clutching a teddy bear. Thankfully the foal’s body had not been desecrated. It was a small satisfaction. I closed the cabinet with a shake of my head. At this point, it was all I could bring myself to do.

Packrat was halfway inside the oven. Her front half scoured the insides, while her hindquarters protruded into the air. I looked, but I did not stare. The idea of running my eyes over Packrat’s body felt uncomfortable for a number of reasons. Aside from her having a similar coat color to Lyra, Packrat seemed on the young side. I was no fillyphile, nor would I ever be. Her leers also made me too uncomfortable to want to reciprocate.

She pulled her head out of the oven with a metal grate in her mouth. Why was she holding that? She shrugged. “Whhhhhhha?” She then made a face. One I assumed meant she realized she could not be understood. She promptly spat the grate onto the ground and caught it with her hooves. “What? You never know when you might need something like this. Find anything?”

I shrugged.

She chuckled and shook her head. “Okay, Savage. You don’t know me all that well, so let me explain. When I asked you that, I didn’t mean did you find anything useful. I meant if you found anything at all.”

I was not sure whether I should have laughed or flinched. Packrat’s voice fully cracked. It was kind of cute. But that glint in her eyes was still present. If anything, they appeared hungrier.

I pointed to the cabinets with a nod of my head. The four of them were enveloped in a dark green light and swung open. One by one, the objects I had found levitated towards Packrat. Strangely enough, the bag of sugar jingled as it moved.

“He, he, he.” She rubbed her hooves and licked her lips. She was almost like the villain of a cartoon aimed at foals. She cradled the bag of sugar with one hoof, whilst rummaging through it with another. “Come on. I know you’re in there somewh—aha!” She ripped her hoof out of the bag. Dangling from her hoof was a small purse. She opened it and breathed deeply. “Ahhh. The sweet scent of caps.” She gave me a grin, as she rattled the purse. “You see, Savage. Just because something doesn’t seem useful doesn’t mean it’s not valuable.”

Hmm. I supposed I would have to keep that in mind. Packrat was too engrossed in the contents of her purse to levitate the teddy bear. If there had been money inside the flour, perhaps the bear held hidden treasures as well. I took the demon’s knife from my bag. I grabbed the bear with my hooves and prepared to plunge the blade through it. But, I stopped. The filly may be dead, but robbing her of her bear felt wrong. It would be like ripping apart one of Missile’s comic books in front of his grave. I would never do that to him. I could not do this to her.

I returned the bear and caught Packrat’s eye. For once, she was not ogling me. The hunger had left her eyes, and the glint had subsided. She gave me a sad, knowing, smile, and she continued to loot the room. By the time she had finished, her bags were stuffed with a plethora of bottle caps, baking supplies, and funfetti.

The only thing of use I found was a blue-banded grenade in a bag of flour.

The next room was the Balloon Menagerie. The room was exactly what it promised: a menagerie of balloon animals. There were the heads on strings as well, but I chose to ignore those in favor of the animals. There was a small pond with balloon frogs, ducks, and even a shark. I noticed a small grove of trees with small balloon monkeys, spiders, and frogs. There was a sand castle with a balloon crab and a frog. Why were there so many frogs?

Another more pressing question formed in my mind. Why did the room smell of blood? I turned towards the source of the smell an—oh. I had forgotten about the hellhound. Even in death it was terrifying. Its fangs glinted dangerously in the light. To say nothing of its claws.

Packrat trotted around the hellhound with a sour expression. “Hmmm. How am I gonna fit this guy in my bags?”

The answer was simple. She could not. However, all she needed was proof of its death to reap her reward. I approached the beast’s maw with my knife drawn. I pried open its jaws and used my knife to remove one of its teeth. I presented her with the tooth.

Confusion molded into her sour expression. “Um, thanks.” She took the tooth with her hoof. She sniffed it, shrugged, and placed it in her bag. “Okay. Now, um, how are we doing this?”

Clearly there were still miscommunication problems. An old adage popped into my mind: actions spoke louder than words. So, I got to work. I used the knife to remove the hellhound’s remaining teeth. Packrat stared at me, but she said nothing. She only scratched her head with her hoof. The knife, which was already in poor condition, began to dull by the fifth tooth. I cast it aside and used one of the other teeth instead. It was a significantly better knife. Once I had finished with the teeth, I started with the claws.

“Ohhhhh.” Packrat gasped. “You’re cutting it apart so we can take it back.” She clicked her tongue twice and raised her head at me. “I got you. So, um, okay. You do this; I’ll loot the other rooms. See you in a bit.” Packrat sprinted out of the room and headed towards the Cupcake Room. Good. That meant I would not have to see all the horrors that room held.

Dismantling the hellhound was much quicker with its tooth. This could be a knife worth keeping. I began to remove the hellhound’s paws with its claws intact. Removing the claws separately would have taken too much time and energy. Time and energy I would spend on skinning the beast. The more proof the better. The fur was also so thick and coarse I suspected it could be used as armor. I doubted it was bullet proof, I had killed it after all, but it might be able to weaken the impact of a bullet.

I rummaged through its fur to find a place to start cutting. I was at its shoulder when my hoof touched something cold and metallic. Glimmer’s special bullet. Curiosity took hold of me, as I inspected the wound. It was not deep at all. It did not even break through the fur. The special bullet had killed the hellhound without even touching its flesh.

I fished the revolver out of my bag. It resembled an ordinary revolver. Aside from its unnatural sheen and pristine condition, it was the spitting image of Faith. I checked the chamber. One bullet left. I removed it and held it in my hoof. Glimmer’s special bullet was exactly like the gun itself. It was shiny but otherwise unassuming. Yet, it was one of the most powerful objects in my possession. Its only rival being Doctor Zimri’s vial of Goddess. I slipped the bullet back inside Glimmer. It seemed I had a second last resort.

With my curiosity satisfied, I resumed skinning the hellhound. I was not going to remove all its fur. Just enough for Packrat and I to have a section to cover our chests with. My barding had been damaged during my battles with ‘Chestra’s group and the demon. Any reinforcement was welcome. Especially if it was proven to stop bullets.

With my saddle bags full of hellhound parts, I existed the Balloon Menagerie through the broken window. Packrat stood by the reception desk chewing on something. When she saw me, she offered me a piece of meat. “Want some?” I flicked my eyes towards the Cupcake Room; a shiver crawled up my back. “Oh no no no no no. It’s radroach meat. It’s crunchy.”

I felt wary as I stared at it. It was not pony, but I was still eating a once living creature. It felt wrong. At the same time, I was hungry. Alas, my appetence triumphed over my moral decency. I took the piece of meat and shoved it in my mouth. She was right. It was crunchy. It was also disgusting. I spat out the meat. Immediately, I took a long, irradiated, drink from my canteen.

Packrat shrugged. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Clearly. I stowed away my cantee—why was there a large bowl in my bag? I pulled it out and glared at Packrat. Her eyes bulged as she flushed. “Um, he he. Heh. Um.” Then she started whistling. Hmph. I tossed the large green bowl aside. “No!” Packrat dove with her hooves outstretched. The bowl bounced off her hooves and clattered on the ground. I supposed Packrat had a flair for the overdramatic. Otherwise, she would have caught the bowl with her magic. Though since the bowl was plastic, it was not damaged by such a short fall.

Packrat lifted her head. “Okay, Savage. Confession time. I may or may not—” She paused at my condescending stare. “May have an ever so teensy.” She coughed. “Um, marginal?” She sighed. “I like stuff. I really like collecting stuff. And I’m out of room for my stuff. So, can you take some? Pls?”

First off, the word was “please.” Her awful verbiage almost made me reject her on the spot. It was also not acceptable for her to access my bag without permission. Though, she was my companion. I needed to keep her happy until I could save Carbine. Even then, Boulder Springs could be a sturdy community. Perhaps he and I could live there after I rescued him. Losing bag space was a minimal inconvenience for the benefit. Besides, there was no denying those puppy-eyes.

I put the bowl in my bag.

Her face lit up like a balefire bomb. “Yes! Yes!” She started pronking around me in a circle whilst repeating “Yes!”

I pushed her in the side and added a glare which asked, “Are you quite through?”

She stopped and coughed. “He he he…-we cool?” She outstretched her hoof. I returned the gesture. Then I pointed to my ear, and then my bag. “Ask you before I put stuff in your bag from now on?” I nodded, and so did she. “Will do.” She paused and removed all the items she had taken from Baker’s Cove. “Starting right now.”

I sighed internally, but I offered her my bag. I also presented her with the hellhound fur. The balefire bomb went off in her eyes again. I put a hoof on her shoulder to stop her from prancing around me. She chuckled and put the fur in her bags. “I’ll have Weaves fix this up for me. Thanks, Savage.” She swiveled towards the Party Room with her hoof pointing forward. “Now, onwards.”

Packrat marched towards the Party Room, and I followed. When I opened the door, I noticed two things. First, was the net full of pony heads dangling close to the doorway. Second was the telltale beeping. I wrapped a hoof around Packrat’s neck and pulled her back. The guttural sound she made was suppressed by the mines exploding.

I was knocked onto my back, and I slid backwards. Chunks of flesh dappled my body. Surprise, surprise. What did surprise me, was seeing Packrat splayed over me. She glanced at me with half-open eyes, and she flipped her mane. Given how short her mane was, it was not very impressive. “Well. Since we’re already here—” I flicked her forehead with my hoof. “Ow. Come on. I didn’t even finish my sentence. It wasn’t even going to be an offer. Just a joke.” She moved her head and mumbled. “Mostly.”

I pushed her off of me. Soft enough to not be aggressive but hard enough for her to know I heard her. Packrat rolled onto her hooves in one fluid motion. Once on her hooves, she galloped towards the Party Room. The essence of other ponies sloshed off her body as she ran. Hopefully there would not be another trap.

Once I entered the room I did discover another trap: the smell. It was exponentially worse than Baker’s Cove. Pony entrails were displayed like streamers. They had even been colored as such. In the center of the room was a large smiley face painted in blood. The face had been decorated with eyebrows and teeth. The eyebrows were made from the severed wings of pegasi; the teeth were unicorn horns.
I ran out of the room so I could breathe. Packrat took a solemn breath, as she produced a gas mask from her bag. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

She was. While I appreciated the fresh, or at least fresher air around me, Packrat was checking every nook and cranny of the Party Room. She returned levitating two packs of actual streamers, four cans of spray paint, three green-banded grenades, and a carbine rifle. I put the grenades on my necklace. I put the streamers and paint in my bag. I refused to take the rifle.

Packrat shrugged and stowed it in her bags. “Okay. Upstairs we go. I want to find that sexy mare in pink.” I doubted she was still “sexy” after Packrat blew off half her face. Packrat bounded up the stairs. “There’s a blood trail. She must have gone this way.” She ran off, out of my line of sight. Even if I could not see her, I could hear her just fine. “Savage, do you know how to hack a terminal? ‘Cause I don’t.”

I did not either. I reached the stop of the stairs, and I watched as Packrat paced in a circle. She was muttering something to herself that I did not bother paying attention to. What I paid attention to was the door. A large, metallic, sliding door blocked our path. Something was written on the door. I assumed it had once been a logical word. Now it only read: anagm. Attached to the wall beside the door was the terminal. I assumed it had an electric lock.

I approached the terminal and tapped my hoof on the keyboard. The screen lit up. A series of letters and symbols filled the computer screen. Some of the letters formed recognizable words, while others were just strings of gibberish. The top part of the screen was asking me for a password. I assumed the password was somewhere on the screen. Finding the password would take more time than I wanted to spend. At least I could tell I was making progress when I was skinning the hellhound. A terminal was a complete wildcard. I quickly typed in two possible passwords just in case they were correct. Funnn. Guest. Neither worked.

Fortunately, I had another idea. I kicked the door twice to get Packrat’s attention. Once she was looking at me, I pointed towards the staircase. She raised an eyebrow, but she obeyed my silent command. Once Packrat was free of the blast zone, I grabbed the pin of the blue-banded grenade. I pulled the pin, and it fell to the floor. I ran away from the door as quickly as I could. These types of grenades did not seem to affect ponies, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Blue electricity exploded from the apple. The sparks covered the door and terminal. The electricity hummed, but then it grew eerily quiet. A few sparks sporadically sparked across the terminal and the door. Other than that, the light show was over. I approached the door and attempted to slide it open with my hooves. It was almost easier done than said—thought. The door slid open to reveal a musty office. The smell in here was bad, but it was not as abominable as Baker’s Cove or the Party Room. I much preferred a musty smell to one of fresh blood.
Packrat tapped me on the shoulder. “Good goin’, Savage!” She gazed down at the device on her leg. There was a lone blue dot, which I assumed represented me. “Coast is clear, but there could still be traps. Cover me in case I blow up.”

I doubted there would be anything to cover if she blew up, but I understood what she meant. I followed her inside, surveying the room with each step. There was not much to the Anagm room. There were four large filing cabinets against the side wall. In the middle of the room was a weathered wooden desk, which was flanked by two dead trees. Twin skeletons hung above the desk like a chandelier. It was one of the more tasteful choices in décor I had seen today. I really was not in the Crystal Wasteland anymore.

“Ooh, a baseball.”

Hmm? I turned my head. Packrat was rummaging through one of the filing cabinets. She was stuffing her saddlebags with an assortment of useless junk. Soon, she would likely be stuffing said junk into my bags as well. I left her to her looting. I approached the desk. There was an assortment of files. Multiple bank statements, law suits, and a letter. I picked up the letter and started reading.

“Sugs. Sorry I missed your birthday. I had a meeting with the bank about the foreclosure. They said they’ll give us four more weeks. Hopefully the war will be over by then, and ponies will actually have time for fun….-I’m so sorry I missed you. I won’t let anything keep you from me again. I promise. –Party.”

I raised my head towards the skeletal chandelier. I wondered if Party had managed to keep his promise after all.

“Woah, cool!”

I jumped so high I thought I was going to hit the skeletons. Packrat had appeared beside me, and she was going through the desk drawers. In her hooves were a pair of binoculars made from balloons. She had them pressed against her eyes, as she surveyed the room. “Holy shit, Savage. These things actually work.” She removed the binoculars and started towards my bag. Then she paused, chuckled, and gave me a wry smile. “Um, do you mind?”

I tapped my bag twice.

“Thank you!” She put the binoculars, a baseball, two dozen screws, and a plastic fork in my bag. “Now. Let’s see what else we can—ooh.” She licked her lips and started rubbing her hooves together. “Ohohoho. Come to Packrat.”

Let me guess. She found a naughty magazine. Hopefully it would keep her leers off me for a while. Packrat reached her mouth into the drawer. When her head resurfaced there was a cigar dangling out of the corner of her mouth. She grinned at me and started chewing on the cigar. “I love me a good chew.”

I supposed it was healthier than the alternative. I looked away from Packrat and observed the rest of the room. There had been no sign of the mare on Packrat’s device, but I saw no sign of her in the room either. Which was strange, since there were no doors or windows. There had to have been a secret passageway somewhere in here. I peeked under the desk. Perhaps I would find a button that would reveal a hidden passageway. Unfortunately, there was no button. I glanced back at the terminal, which was still covered with sparks. I hoped there was a way to access the passageway without use of the terminal.

Then again, there was a bookcase at the back of the room. Would they really be so obvious? I approached the bookcase. Hmm. There were a number of business manuals, cook books, books about balloon animals an—what do we have here? Daring Do and the Alicorn’s Shadow. One of these things was not like the others. I pulled the book from the shelf. Creak. The bookcase slid open to reveal a long dark tunnel. This was surprisingly easy so far. Thus, it was only a matter of time before something bad happened.

“Woah cool.” Packrat cupped her front hooves in front of her face. “Hello?” Hello? Hello? She stared laughing at her echo and smiled at me. “You should try this, Savage. It’s really fun.” I pointed to the scar across my throat. Packrat winced. “Oh, right, sorry.” She turned away and pressed a button on her device. A pale green light burst forth and illuminated part of the tunnel. “So, um, shall we go?”

I tossed the book aside with a nod. Packrat ignored my nod and dove for the book. The book landed safely in-between her front hooves, and she clutched it tightly to her chest. “Mine!” She sprang to her hooves and cantered down the tunnel with her nose deep in the book. For some reason, she opened to the middle of the book instead of page one. It seemed she preferred to start in medias res.

I followed behind her. Her miniature lamp was helpful, but it was still too dark to see very far. I put on my night vision goggles for extra visibility. My battle saddle was loaded, and I gripped the hellhound tooth in my mouth. I was not looking for a fight; I hoped to be ready for one.

Packrat and I walked in silence. She was too busy reading to engage me in conversation. Though every now and then she would stop to—
“Thank you. Sweet Celestia. I mean, sweet fuckin’ Celestia. It’s about time somepony put Derring in her place. She’s always such a bitch. Thank Celestia for Mareton.”

—That. From what I gathered, Packrat was not a fan of Daring Do’s older sister, but would, and I quote, ‘Still give her a night to remember if I could.’ At least she was enjoying herself.

I, on the other hoof, was growing increasingly more bored by the second. I had to watch out for potential threats while Packrat was preoccupied with Ms. Do. However, the tunnel was about as threatening as a convent of Cadanite nuns. Actually, that metaphor was not quite apt. Some Cadanite nuns were known to invoke corporal punishment on those less pious than them. Which made them slightly more dangerous than the tunnel.

Though it seemed I thought too soon.

I could see a light at the end of the tunnel. I removed my night vision goggles and allowed my eyes to adjust. Once they had done so, I spotted a small herd of ponies at the end of the tunnel. From what I could tell, the ponies all shared two traits. They were all earth ponies; they were all stallions. One member of the group stood out from the others. While the others stood outside, this pony was leaning against the wall at the edge of the tunnel. I presumed he was the stallion in charge.

His coat was red and in terrible condition. There were chunks of flesh missing, plenty of scars, and the remaining portions of intact flesh were ungroomed. I doubted this pony knew the meaning of the word “shower.” His mane was almost nonexistent. A few black hairs sprouted from his head, but he was mostly shaven. He had been balancing a knife horizontally on one of his front hooves. When he saw us approach, he slapped the knife’s handle. The knife sprang into the air, and he caught the blade in his mouth. He then proceeded to use the knife as a toothpick.

Cadance not above, this stallion was the Equestrian Wasteland equivalent of Carbine. I wished I could go back to being bored. It was much better than feeling terrified.

“Well, well, boys. Look what we have here.” The Carbine-raider slid off the wall and stepped in front of the herd. “After we found that luscious unicorn hussy with the fucked up face, we just knew the ponies who fucked her up would come runnin’! And, now, here they are.” The stallion stepped forward with one hoof and bowed overdramatically. “Sorry if ya’ll wanted to fuck her first. But I just couldn’t resist a little magic.”

“Rot in hell, Lurker. It’s not like you could fuck much of anything with that tiny prick of yours.”

The group of stallions “Ooohed.” They parted to reveal a mare bound by rope. Her pink dress had been ripped apart, and she was bleeding from her hindquarters. None of her pain showed in her eyes. They were as fierce as when I saw her atop the staircase. Despite missing a chunk of her face, I still found her to be quite beautiful. I supposed true beauty truly was never tarnished.

Lurker’s eyes twitched. He spat his knife onto his hoof, and he ran his tongue across his lips. “Shit, nah. Did that bitch actually just talk to me like that? He. He he ha. He he ha ha ha ho!” Lurker spun and faced the mare in pink. He jumped towards her and landed in front of her. He pressed his face against hers, while he brandished his knife in his hoof. “Well, Lysandra. If I can’t do much with my. How did you say? ‘Tiny prick?’ Then what do you call those moans you were making just a few minutes ago?”

She raised her head and glared into his eyes. “Pity.”

“Ho ho ho ho. Pity, she says. Pity she fucking says!” Lurker slipped his knife back into his mouth and started chewing on it. Blood trickled out of his mouth, but he did not seem to notice. He continued to stare at Lysandra and chewed on his knife.

“Yes, Lurker. Pity.”

“Ha, ha!” Lurker raised his head and his front hooves. “HO!” He lurched forward and punched Lysandra in the face. More specifically, the part of her face that was missing. She let out a shrill scream, while Lurker started laughing again. “Yeah, that’s what I want to hear. Pity, bitch! That’s what fuckin’ pity sounds like.”

I was not how sure if that sentence made any sense. Then again, saying things without thinking was something Carbine would have done. Almost as if he knew I was thinking about him, Lurker turned towards Packrat and I. He spat his knife onto his hoof, and he pointed it at us. “Sorry about that, friends. I just. Really. Fucking. Hate. Unicorns.

“Especially this bitch right here. You know, I loved her once. And then this bitch.” He rammed his hoof into her ponytail and yanked on it. “This bitch right here. She told me I wasn’t good enough for her. Then she kicked me out of her nasty as shit castle to fend for myself. Well, guess what, friends? Lurker came back. Lurker always comes back. And once I’m done with Lysasndumbitch, I’m gonna celebrate with this glittery faggot, and his friend. Now, if you’ll excu—”

“Do you remember me?” Packrat had stowed the book into her bag. The glint I had seen in her eyes before had returned. Though I could not describe the look as hungry. Hell-bent was a better adjective. She took a few steps forward. “We’ve met before, Lurker. Do you remember me?”

Lurker licked his lips again. “He. He he ha. Ya know, what? I just might.” He breathed onto his hoof and ran his hoof across the top of his head. “Boys, watch over the bitch. I’ve got another unicorn to fuck.”

“And if I say no?”

Lurker ripped his knife out of his mouth. Blood dripped from his mouth like a leaky faucet. Drip. Drip. Drip. “Then I’ll give you more holes to fuck.” He crouched on his haunches and sprang towards Packrat.

Her response was to smile. I could not think of an adequate way to describe her smile. It was not a legitimate smile like the one I had seen on the filly in Hospitality. It was not wry or sad. It was closer to one of Carbine’s maniacal grins. This was not quite a grin though. There was nothing smug or humorous about the look on Packrat’s face. This was the smile of a pony who was truly happy for a malevolent reason. “Good. That’s exactly what I needed you to say.”

I had never taken Dash or Rainboom. I remembered the effects being described to me as the perception of time slowing down. I was experiencing that sensation now. Lurker was still moving, but his body crept forward rather than bounding. His stallions were barking encouragement, but their words were becoming heavily slurred. I tried to step forward to aid Packrat, but my own body felt heavy as it moved. Time had slowed down for everypony.

Everypony except for Packrat. She levitated her impressively large revolver from her bags. She pulled the hammer, and the chamber revolved to the next available cartridge. She aimed her weapon at Lurker’s head.

Two things happened at once. The first was time returning to normal. The second was Lurker’s face exploding into a pile of mush. His body turned sideways and slid towards Packrat. As his body slid towards her, Packrat fired two more rounds into his head. The second round struck him in the forehead and created a massive hole. The third struck him in the neck and decapitated him.

The head and body finished sliding just in front of Packrat. She spun her revolver in her telekinetic hold and placed it in her bag. In its place, she produced a grenade. “This is for Dartboard, you fuck.” She shoved the grenade into his mouth and kicked it like a ball. Being a small unicorn, Packrat’s kick did not send the head very far. It was almost as if she was passing it towards me. I bucked Lurker’s head towards the other stallions. Though it was more to avoid being blasted to smithereens than to attack them.

The grenade exploded, and it took Lurker’s head with it. The remains of his head splashed against the walls of the tunnel. If nothing else, at least it gave the tunnel some color. His blood covered both Packrat and I. As disgusting as it was, I preferred being covered in Lurker than joining him. Packrat did not appear to be fazed by her literal bloodbath. Her eyes kept their dangerous glint. She had proven she was not to be trifled with. Still, it was hard to view her seriously when she currently resembled a ponified watermelon.

Packrat glared at the remaining stallions. They quivered as they looked back at her. Some of them held each other. Most of them wet themselves. Packrat pointed to a light blue stallion. “You.”

Light Blue squealed and stepped forward. “Ye…-yes?”

“You’re in charge now. And if I ever hear that you’ve hurt anypony again, I’m holding you personally responsible. Is that clear?”

Light Blue muttered something as his response.

“I said is that fucking clear?!”

“Yes it’s clear, don’t shoot me!”

Packrat breathed deeply. “Good. Now all of you get out of here before I use you all as target practice.”

I had never seen ponies move that quickly. Some of them stumbled, while others bumped into each other. But one way or another, Lurker’s herd of stallions galloped away from Packrat as fast as they could. Once the stallions had left, Packrat approached Lysandra and started working on the ropes. “Are you okay?”

The ropes fell to the ground. Lysandra stood up slowly, and she ran a hoof across her wound. “You shot off half my face.”

Oh, please. I understood her pain. I assumed losing part of one’s face was as scarring, both literally and metaphorically, as having one’s throat slit. I could admit I partook in melodrama from time to time. But I at least understood the extent of my injury. Lysandra was missing part of her face; she was not missing half of it.

Packrat responded with a wry smile. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was aiming for between your eyes if that makes you feel any better.”
Lysandra’s glare eased up slightly, though only out of confusion. In her defense, I was unsure of how Packrat’s statement would make anypony feel better. Lysandra shook her head and switched her glare between Packrat and me. “I suppose you’re going to finish the job now. Fine.” She turned her head and struck a dignified pose. “Go ahead. I’m ready.”

“No.”

The dignified pose decompressed into an unimpressive slouch. “What did you just say?”

Packrat’s face was surprisingly expressionless, as she shrugged. “No. You’re not a threat anymore. So, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Not a threat. Not a threat, you say!” Lysandra tackled Packrat. The two mares tumbled on the ground. They switched positions a few times until Lysandra pinned Packrat to the ground. “I am Lysandra Margaux. The Pearl of Vanhoover.”

Packrat shook her head and shrugged again. “Not ringing a bell.”

Lysandra curled her lips and gasped. She turned her head towards me. “The Deadly Orchid?”

I made no response.

She did not bother gasping. She simply stepped off Packrat. The ferocity in her eyes was gone. They contained an expression of pure confusion. “I don’t understand. How can you ponies not know of me? I’m practically a queen around here.”

“Um, well, welcome to being a peasant.”

There was the ferocity I was used to. Lysandra scoffed. “I am no peasant. I refuse to associate with your kind.” Her horn glowed, and she whipped out an ivory revolver from her dress. She pressed the barrel against Packrat’s head and pulled back the hammer. “This is for my face, you low-class mongrel.”

I fired a shot from Memento. Queen or not, I was not going to let her do as she pleased to my friend. Ultimately, my aim was off. My bullet did not tear through Lysandra’s head. Rather….

Her only movement came from her hoof. Her hoof quivered as she raised it to the back of her head. She rummaged her hoof around in the empty air. The empty air where her mane used to be. “My hair. You shot off my hair.” She turned away from Packrat and gazed at the remains of her scarlet ponytail on the ground. “You killed my subjects. My pet. You destroyed my face. And now, my pride and joy.” She lifted her head and stared at me. The storm brewing in her eyes did not match the tranquil tone of her voice. And I had thought an Equestrian Wasteland version of Carbine was terrifying. Her revolver pointed at me. “I’ll see you in hell, handsome.”

She pulled the trigger before I could. Then she pulled it again. And again. And again. Click. Click, click, click. “No, no!” She continued to fire the gun to no avail.

“Well, yeah. I said you weren’t a threat remember?” Packrat rolled onto her hooves and started stretching. “If that gun was loaded, you wouldn’t have asked if we were going to kill you. You would have shot me instantly. You knew you couldn’t kill us, so you wanted to threaten us so we’d kill you.” Packrat walked in front of Lysandra and kneeled. “I know you really hate us. But, a Queen needs an escort.”

Lysandra’s face heavily soured. “I said I didn’t want to associate myself with low life peasants.”

Packrat waved her hoof. “Pfft. Just think of us as knights or something.”

“Knights.” The word sounded like a curse the way Lysandra said it. “My knights.” That time it sounded like less of a curse, although she still sounded clearly unhappy about the situation.

That made two of us. I would have rather left her on her own. After all, she tried to kill us once with her hellhound. Her gun may not have been loaded, but she still shot at me. I was not a fan of her in the slightest. She may have been in shambles, but she was a raider. No, more than that. She fancied herself as a queen. Her castle had been decorated with blood and bodies. With children. Packrat seemed to have forgotten that, but I had not. I lined the scope of Savage with Lysandra’s head. I would not miss this time. We had already overthrown the queen. We could always go one step further.

“Why are you willing to be my knight?”

“I already told you; you’re not a threat. I don’t have to hurt you. I don’t hurt ponies I don’t have to. And, since you don’t seem to have anywhere to go, I figure you could come home with Savage and me. Boulder Springs is always looking for new faces.”

“Boulder Springs?” Lysandra ran her eyes up and down Packrat. “That den of ruffians? No wonder you’re such a vial thing.”

Packrat grinned and rubbed a hoof through her dirty mane. “It’s part of my charm.”

Lysandra glanced at me. “You seem to have gotten over your ghoul friend quite quickly. Does your allegiance normally change so quickly?”

I did not bother replying. I had stopped looking into Savage’s scope after Packrat had finished speaking. I don’t hurt ponies I don’t have to. For a pony who used to a pacifist, I was becoming rather trigger-happy. Kill to protect my family and me. Slay monsters. But, do not rush into killing a monster. Monsters exist to be slain, but a monster could be reformed.

I already knew that first hoof now that I thought about it. If I had met Carbine with my slayer mentality, I would have killed him on the spot. Despite his violent tendencies, Carbine had shown a desire to want to change. He was capable of loving other ponies. If Packrat wanted to save Lysandra, then we would. I still decided I did not like her, and I would rather not interact with her if I could avoid it. But I could always change my mind later and come to see her as a friend.

Then I saw her smirking at me and decided I wanted to be adamant in my dislike. “Maybe you have worth as a knight after all.”

“Sooooooo, is that a yes?”

Lysandra narrowed her eyes. The anger seemed to be absent from her gaze, but she was wary. “I know there’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?”

Packrat sighed. “Um, okay, fine. If I’m being honest—do I have to be honest?” Lysandra and I both nodded. Packrat looked away and muttered something to herself.

“What was that?” Lysandra demanded.

“I said you’re really hot, an—”

Lysandra slapped Packrat across the face. Ouch. That slap was loud. I had not been touched, yet my own cheek was stinging. I wondered if Lysandra qualified as a threat now.

Packrat rubbed her cheek. “Well, it’s true. And Savage doesn’t want to fuck me, so I thought maybe I could try to work on you.”

Lysandra glanced at me again; her expression was sultry. The effect was weakened since she was missing part of her face, but she was still appeared…-appetizing. Oh, no. That was a disgusting choice of words. Though I knew Lyra would have appreciated it. She no doubt would have used it if she had thought of it. Lysandra sauntered towards me, batting her eyes. “Tell me...-Savage.” She hesitated before saying my new name. Not unlike how I had not been a fan of the name when I first heard it. “Do you agree with your friend? Do you want to fuck me?”

Her voice was as smooth and sticky as honey. I had felt her hot breath on my ear when she said the word “fuck.” I knew I wanted her, but I would not have her. I would not have another mare so soon after Lyra’s death. I doubted I would ever have another. Especially a raider queen. I turned my head away from her.

Unfortunately, Lysandra was not deterred. “Oh, don’t be like that.” She slipped her hoof under my chin and turned my head towards her. She held my face in her hoof and said nothing. She did not have to. Her eyes were so inviting. Her breath was so warm. I wanted to look away, but I found it impossible to do so. The smirk reappeared on her face. That was a major turnoff. I decided to turn away from her right then and there. I would have too. If she had not kissed me first.

Her hot breath and cool tongue mixed into a comfortable feeling. A very comfortable feeling. I closed my eyes and kissed her back. I wrapped my front hooves around her neck and kept her face close to mine. She was phenomenal. If her lips were this good, how much more would I love her flank? I wanted it. I needed it. I slipped my hooves down her back an—

—that was when she pulled away. She placed her front hooves onto mine and gently removed them from their back. She slowly ran her tongue across her lips. “I’ll take that as a yes. I think I can see why they call you Savage.”

Her tone was far more condescending than I liked. Not that it mattered. Lysandra was a monster. I did not want to experience the body of a monstrous pony any more than I wanted the body of a hellhound. She was a good kisser; I could give her that. I was caught in the moment. The moment was now past, and I lost all of my desire for the Orchid of Vanhoover. Or whatever foolish names she called herself.

She leaned forward and whispered into my ear with her hot breath. “I know you can’t speak. But when you think of me, I’d like for you to call me Lysa. Lysandra Margaux is much too formal. I’d prefer our relationship to be more…-personal.” She purred the final word into my ear, and then she kissed my cheek. Oh. She truly was a monster.

Lysa sashayed away from me towards Packrat. Packrat’s face was almost completely red, and her jaw had drooped. I also noticed she was heavily drooling. Hmph. Somepony needed a swat. The smirk was prominent on Lysa’s face. I had a sinking suspicion I would be seeing that expression more often than not. She reached her hoof under Packrat’s chin, and she lifted it till Packrat’s mouth closed. “Come, knights. Aren’t you going to escort your Queen?”

“Oh, yes, Ma’am,” Packrat said with a mouthful of drool. It was disgusting.

Packrat trotted beside Lysa, whilst I brought up the rear. Lysa shook her head. “Come now, Savage. No need to be so formal. Come walk beside me.”

I would rather keep my distance. I did not like how I felt when I was around her. She was like a syringe of Med-X. Wonderful, but carried a risk of addiction. I did not move to her side. Once Lysa realized I was staying put, she laughed to herself. “Two unicorns and a crystal pony walk out into the Wasteland. Sounds like the start of a bad joke, doesn’t it?”

It did. If I had learned anything in my brief stay in the Equestrian Wasteland, the Wasteland preferred its punchlines cruel.

Footnote: Level Up!

Perk Added: Boom Shakalaka. Who has time for fancy mathematics when you can just blow stuff up?! Not you, that’s for sure. Explosives increased to 50.

Author's Notes:

Author's Notes:

Hey, everypony! As always, thanks to Kkat for writing the original stories, to other writers for contributing to this universe, and to my readers.

In other news, Happy Halloween! This is one of my favorite holidays, so I hope you all have an awesome night. In other other news, season six is officially over. It's been a rollarcoaster for me. I watched it in two continents, a few of them out of order, and wasn't overly impressed with the premiere or the last couple minutes of the finale. It also had a couple episodes I really didn't care for. But it also had some of my favorite episodes in the series. Kind of weird how that all worked out. I hope you all enjoyed it for the most part. Here's to season 7!

And in other news for the third time, because three is a magic number, I finally released my second novel. While the first book is not pony related at all, the second one has a rew references and a couple recurring characters based on AJ and Rarity. Here's a link to it if you're interested and to the first one as well.
https://www.amazon.com/Moonpekian-Summer-Sw1tchbl4de-ebook/dp/B01MF5G11D
https://www.amazon.com/Moonpekian-Spring-J-N-Whitley/dp/1907732047

Later!