I was worried that they were going to shoot Rufus, but thanks to him being well trained, and the bandit not wanting to draw attention, I just needed to call him over to me to ease the tension. Turnip on the other hoof nearly passed out when a blade was brought to his face, and was unceremoniously thrown over to me. We were placed in the corner of the club, making it easier to keep an eye on us, and left with a guard to loom over us.

The club was mostly a large empty room, it had lights of different colors all over, but right now it was just the white ceiling lights. The walls were as if a rainbow had been splashed all over, and along the walls were black cutouts of ponies, the size of a normal pony with dim lights behind them. The ceiling had a big glass disco ball, currently still, and the floor was messy with hoof steppes all over, only a quarter clean. There was a second floor which connected to the DJ booth, currently dark and empty, but I could see a lot of tech blinking inside. The bar was closed down, except for one of the cabinets, which had been smashed open, and the contents on the bar table. A big sign above the bar read, “Party Hour, 10pm-2am, drink responsibly.”

Our guard, a bandit mare with obviously dyed bright blue mane, which was matted back, and ending in some ugly spikes. It was easy to tell her mane normally was done up in a mohawk, but was pushed back and down, to make her less easy to pick out for being a bandit. Her coat was greenish brown, and sported some nasty looking scars, a few looked recent, along with a burn mark that looked fresh. Brandishing a customized AG-3, the air powered shotgun had a shortened barrel, a bigger air tank, and a reinforced frame. It looked ridiculous, and absolutely deadly.

She spat at my hooves. “Bad timing girly, don’t cha know, no clubbing in the morn.” She had taken a seat, her shotgun lazily swaying at us on her battle saddle. “But good news for us, we got hostages now. The bitch better give herself up or have blood on the dance floor.”

I dared not to make any sudden moves, I got lucky that they missed my combat knife when checking me for guns, so I was not completely helpless.I had to think of a plan fast before I lose my usefulness. The thought of jumping behind the bar, getting smashed drunk, and winging it came to my mind. But remembered that alcohol is not some super drug that makes a pony a badass. I’d be killed as soon as I become imbalanced. My best bet was to wait for my guard to get close, slit her throat, and run for safety. Not as simple as it sounds, but my best bet.

I could feel Rufus tense up, so I lightly petted his head to keep him calm. “Risky don’t you think, I thought your kind avoided acting in such a populated place. What are, too…” the bandit whistled loudly, cutting me off mid-sentence.

“Ya think you're smart don’t ya. But I know what you’re going to say, that I’m too shit to work in the shit.” She laughed. “Sorry to tell ya this, but we're moving up in the world. Privileged folk like you will soon be kissing my hooves, groveling for me to fuck ya and not kill ya.”

I shut my mouth. The bandit was waiting for me to do something stupid, waiting for enough justification to shoot me. She was drug addicted, but not stupid. If I insult her, she shoots me. If I let her know I want her to get in close, she will suspect that I have a weapon, and shoot me. If I do nothing, she is going to shoot me when they no longer need me.

“So what cha doing going to the club at this time. My bits on you being a whore, but Drum Sticks says yous look the slugger kind.” She grinned, showing some of her rotten teeth. “So show me the goods. Or the goods.”

Turnip tilted his head. “What goods?” I sighed.

A nearly empty glass bottle of vodka smashed on the wall neared Turnips head. “Give me goods, or she show me her plot!” the bandit mare shouted out.

I couldn’t help but feel a bit demoralized, and scared now. Others always warned of male bandits being rapists, but having seen the aftermath of a bandit raid on a scave group myself, at least the male bandit leave survivors. Victims of female bandits would be raped with objects, often glass bottle, and later break the bottles inside their victims. Buy what the survivors told me, death having broken glass inside you is among the worst ways to die.

“Come on now pretty, take off that suit, and wiggle your plot for me.” The bandit was drooling now, her eyes jittered from withdraw, and she reeked of alcohol.

Compliance was my best option for survival right now, but I had a grim feeling about what waited for me if I didn’t get out of this situation. Standing up, I removed my scarf and jacket carefully, so not to tip her off to the gun holster and combat knife on the inside. Placing them on a nearby chair. Rufus gave me a little whimper, so I patted him on the head. “Don’t worry, everything’s going to be alright.”

Unzipping my jumpsuit I slowly peeled it off of me. I could hear a slurp from the bandit, she probably sucking in her own drool. Dropping the jumpsuit to the ground, I put the jacket back on.

“Hay! Did I say you can put clothes back on?” She shouted at me.

Taking a deep breath, I managed to keep myself calm, but I felt myself ready to crack. “Isn’t it more erotic id something is left on?”

The bandit pushed for a moment, scratching her chin. “Fine, keep it on, but the panties have to go. I want to see all the way inside you when you spread your legs.” I shivered, but with the shotgun trained on me, I complied, placing my frilly purple panties on top of my jumpsuit. I felt exposed, my body shaking, and my face struggling to keep myself stoic. Sweet and I always worried about a situation like this, but we had each other's back, and she was good at fighting up close, here I was on my own. Rufus and Turnip could help, but they were no gun support. “Now come here, give me a dance.” The bandit ordered.

I attempted to sway my hips as I walked over to her, but tripped over my own hooves. She bellowed in laughter as I struggled to get back up to my hooves. The fur under my eyes was starting to feel wet, my composer was almost lost. She directed me closer, and closer, until I was almost next to her. I just needed to get a little closer, and I could strike.

“Turn around!” She commanded, and I hesitated. “Turn around or I will make you spin with one shot of my gun.” This time I complied. “Now dance, shake your plot, give me a show.” I fought to hold in a whimper, trying to keep it together. Moving my back end side to side, I hoped that was enough.

*SMACK* A metal hoof hit me between my cyberlegs, right under my tail, and on a sensitive spot.

She kicked me in the cunt with her metal hoof, and I fell face first into the floor. As the bandit laughed, tears fell freely from my eyes, and my nose ran. “Now get the fuck up, and I’ll show you how to shake ya hips bitch.” I pushed up, getting back on all fours, I felt two hooves hold onto my waist. Instinctively I flattened my tail, covering myself. Another hoof strike hit me on the back. “Lift that fucking tail bitch!” complying I felt the mare press right up onto me, making me feel sick. “Now move like you’re getting fucked by a big meaty cock.” She used her own body to force me to thrust, further humiliating me.

It went on for over a minute, her drooling on my back as she forced me to move my hips. It reminded me of the pirate Duel, being as sickly twisted. When she was done, she pushed me down, and rolled me over, putting her legs between my own. In her TK spell was a full bottle of alcohol. “Now I’m going to make you feel real good, but you must do the same for me.”

I couldn’t take it anymore, having the digest in my right hoof come out, I pulled out my combat knife, and slashed at the mare. She leaned back, and dodged the blade. Falling on her back, she pushed her flank up and over, landing back onto all fours. “Now that was not very nice!”

I had managed to get myself back on all fours, at the same time she had. Not caring what she had to say, I lunged. She fired her shotgun, but without the time to aim it, I only caught the shrapnel on the side of my face. With tears flowing from my eyes, I didn’t care that I almost had the side of my face blasted off, I wanted to kill this bitch.

I got in close, and brought my knife down at her head. She lunged forward, having my knife go into her back, and head butting me. Pushing me off of her, the knife carved a gash from her back to her shoulder, stopping at her metal connection. I fell into my flank, and she talked me, stomping my stomach. I counter bat stabbing at her, again and again. Again and again. Again and again. Again and again. Again and again. Again and again.

The bandit fell over in a bloody mess, her neck nearly hacked all the way through. I was covered in her blood, and the knife in my hooves was bent.

“THE FUCK!” another bandit had come to check one the commotion. Luckily he didn’t get a chance to call his friends, as Rufus was on him in a second, lunging at the bandit’s throat, and tearing it out and she jerked the bandit to the ground.

Turnip quickly trotted over to me, helping me up. “You okay.”

I shook my head, holding onto the lurker. “No, no I’m not. Just give me a minute.”

“THE FUCK!” Another bandit showed up, but this time on a balcony above us. He reached over to talk on a radio, but before he could speak, one of his eyes was pushed back into his skull, and the combination of blood, bone, and gray matter splattered on the wall behind him.

“That’s three down.” Looking over to the voice, I saw the gangster looking pony from the show room. He had a guitar case on his side, aimed like it was a rifle “If my information is right, we got four more at least.” He pulled out a towel from a saddle bag, and threw it to me. “Fine work there, I can see why the syndicate is all abuzz about you.”

I quickly wiped the blood from my body, lots of it stayed in my coat, but the towel helped dry the rest, dry me enough to put my cloths back on. “Who are you?”

“Guitarrón, a shadowrunner.” He said with a bow.

I raised an eyebrow “So a criminal mercenary.” I knew of shadowrunners, whenever something goes wrong in a big way, an assimilation, or a factory is set on fire, it’s often done by a shadowrunner. They are often skilled ponies who had changed their names, and faces, taking on mercenary work for rich ponies who want illegal work done. Reaching over for my panties, I quickly slip them on. “What’s your kind doing here?”

He trotted past me, eyeing me. “A job, same job as you.”

“Hogshit!”

Seeing him look over at me, I quickly put my jumpsuit on, forgetting to take my jacket off first. “Okay, not exactly the same job. You can say, that were two rails on the same track.” I was able to get the vest on after throwing off my jacket.

Putting my jacket back on, the last peace was my scarf, of which I took extra care to put on. “Fine, just help me kill the bandits. But if I see you try to harm any innocents, I will end you.”

“Fair enough. I’m not some gun nut idiot. Harming civs is more trouble than it’s worth anyways,” Guitarrón trotted over to a door leading to the backroom, opening up his guitar case, and pulling out an AG-5 air rifle. It was painted black, with a shortened barrel, and two air tanks. “Their bound to know something up, so move fast,”

I picked up the AG-3, and five shrapnel shells the bandit had on her. “I know what I’m doing.” Looking at the case, it was actually half gun, half gun case. An air rifle was built into the thicker part of the case. The other part of the case held an SMG, and two heavy looking revolvers.

“I can tell.” He closed the guitar case and put it to its side. “Most ponies in your situation crack, often losing the will to fight, or attacking too soon and end up dying.” The rifle attached to what was probably a hidden battle saddle. “Takes some grit to hold out like that.”

I wiped my face, still feeling sick about being molested like that. “Do you know why they’re in here?”

Guitarrón shook his head. “All I know is that they were spotted coming in from a back tunnel, shot the lookout.” One of his wings fluttered a little, and slid into a slot on his suit, probably the firing mechanism. “My employer is mighty pissed, Orthrus was all over the tunnel after some pony saw the body. Now they have to pay a rival for use of their tunnel.”

“Let me play my hoof sized violin to show how much I care.” I placed the shotgun on my back, its strap over my shoulder, and sheathed my knife.

Slowly Guitarrón opened the door, taking a peek in. “I get it, you’re an Orthrus freelancer. All by the book, no braking the law, and maintain as a reliably clean reputation as you can.” He slowly pushed back from the door, and looked back at me. “Are you sure you’re good, you can sit this out.”

I shook my head. “No I’m not, and I’m not going to. Now is the way clear?”

He nodded. “Looks like the bandit your dog took out was the guard here. So we have a clear path to the DJ’s room, that’s where the rest of the bandits should be.” He opened through and trotted through. Signaling for the other two to stay behind, I followed the stallion in.

The hallway were far more muted in color, still an overall rainbow of colors, but far more dulled and easy on the eyes. A mop was left on the floor, the handle broken, and still visibly wet. In the distance we could hear shouting and banging, both sounding angry.

“Open the fucking door bitch, I ain’t playing around!” A red bandit mare spat at a metal door. A stallion bucked the door, not even putting a dent into it. A third bandit mare had her head in a box, digging out some random junk.

The stallion bucked the door again and the mare with her head in the box pulled back and chuckled. “You think we should just use the bomb Drumsticks? They didn’t say we needed her alive.”

The red mare, I presumed was Drumsticks, kicked the other mare in the face. “You don’t fucking think that I already considered that option. We need that bomb to distract Orthrus, not to call them right to us.” She walked over to the mare, and helped her up. “We need to gas them out, so keep looking for the shit we need.”

Guitarrón readied his rifle. “I’ll take out the leader, you take out one of the lackeys.” I nodded, and the stallion took aim. I readied myself, but with how this AG-3 had been modified, I had limited range with the gun. “On three.”

“One” The other mare knocked over a metal box, its contents spilling over the floor.

“Two” The stallion bucked the door again, only scuffing it.

“Three” Guitarrón fired his shot.

Drum Sticks kicked the metal box up in time to deflect the ball bearing, her eyes locking with Guitarrón, and she snarled. “Fucking shit, should have known you’d be here.” The bandit signaled to her subordinates, and they rushed out of the line of fire, around a corner.

We gave chase, following them up some stairs to the second floor of the club. The bandits had barreled through the doors, and taken defensive positions on what looked like the lounge area of the club.

*Pop, pop, pop,* Guitarrón and I had to dive to the side, avoiding the bandits shots from their air guns. I held up behind a couch, and my companion took shelter behind an overturned table.

“What the fuck are you doing Drumsticks?” Guitarrón shouted. “Last I heard you were fucking around on the big island.”

I heard a chuckle over from where the bandits were. “Give me back my foals, and I might tell you!” Drumsticks spat back, followed by a bandit taking a potshot at him.

Guitarrón shot back “They’re not you foals anymore, and never will be.”

“FUCK YOU!” Drumsticks jumped from her cover to another spot, taking another shot at him. “I’LL KILL YOU LIKE YOUR DIP SHIT BROTHER.”

I rolled from the couch, to cover that was closer. The bandits had spread themselves out, the leader, and the stallion were going after Guitarrón, and the mare with the black eye was looking for me. The mare had an AG-1, the old air gun looked over modified, and topped with a bayonet.

“Sorry, already have a wife.” Guitarrón retorted, taking a shot at Drum Sticks.

Lurking around a booth, I quietly attempted to flank the bandit, she trying to do the same to me. It was a cat and mouse game, but with the both of us being the cat.

Knocking over a table for cover, Drum Sticks shouted again “I’LL FUCKING KILL THE WHORE TOO.” Guitarrón took a shot at her, sadly missing.

I rounded a corner, and came face to face with the bandit. Pulling the shotgun out into my hooves, I fired at her face. Unfortunately the short few seconds it took to aim was a few seconds too long, and the bandit was able to knock the barrel away from her face as I fired. Some luck was at least on my side, and the bandit’s rifle got stuck on a chair, preventing her from making a counter attack. Not wasting time, I talked the mare and pulled out my knife. The fucking bandit was quick on the defense, and held back the strike with her fetlock, the blade but an inch from her face.

“Hay, let’s say you let me go. Not like I liked the bitch anyways.” The bandit pleaded with a smile.

“Okay.” I responded.

“Really?!” She said in surmise.

“After the shit your friend put me through.” The color on her face seemed to drain, she must have known the pony left to guard the prisoners was a rapist. I used my left hoof to punch her in the stomach. “Fuck no!”

Her block weekend, and the blade went down. The bandit managed to regain control, but I was able to cut her neck before being pushed back. It was a small cut, but the blood streamed out of her, I managed to nick an artery.

“Common, not all of us are that bad. I’m only doing it because I got no other place to go.” She looked me in the eyes, scared. “Honest really, I was starving and they had food.” Tears welled up in her eyes and I pushed down on her. “You don’t need to do this.” I rolled off of her, and she quickly covered her neck with her hooves, trying to stop the bleeding. “Thank yo…”

I slit her throat, giving her a quick death. Blood bubbled from the slit throat as the bandit mare attempted to speak. “You should have just yourself starve.”

“DRAGON SLAYER, A LITTLE HELP HERE!” Guitarrón was pinned down, Drum Sticks was on the other side of the overturned table, and the bandit stallion had picked up the rifle of the pony Guitarrón had killed earlier, and was not trying to flank him.

Placing my combat knife in my mouth, I slipped into S.A.T.S. giving myself time to plan my attack. The shadowrunner was only a few short seconds from getting killed, so I was going to need to act fast. Grabbing the bandit mare’s rifle would take too long to unstrap from her, and the shotgun was a pain to reload. Among the option for my actions was to use my spell talismans. I had stupidly forgotten that I had them, and the bandits probably didn’t think I had anything but basic spell talismans. I didn’t like the idea of just going at the bandit Vanguard style, but it was my best option.

The teleportation talisman would not be able to take me far, about half way to the bandit stallion, but if I galloped, I should be right on him before he knew what to do. The magic armor should provide me with enough protection to endure any hit I took, presuming I avoid taking a direct hit.

With a flash, I was on top of a table, plates of green magic covering me. Dashing, I pulled myself into a sprint at the bandit. He didn’t have time to aim at me, giving me the opportunity to tackle him. The bandit rolled hoof overhead, but quickly recovered. I spat the combat knife into my right cyberhoof, catching it in the digests. Leaping at him, he had time to fire off a shot at me, it deflecting on the magic armor. My knife came down on the bandit's head, right in one of his eye.

Time seemed to have frozen, the bandit looking at me eye to eye. He knew he was fucked, I had closed in on him hard and fast, and now he had a knife in his head. I twisted the blade, and the bandit collapsed, his body twitched as blood spouted from the eye socket.

A ball bearing bounced off the side of my head, the magic armored saving me from losing an ear, and possibly some skull. It was enough to make me stumble a bit, but not to do any damage to my brain. Drum Sticks had shot me, but in doing so opened herself up to Guitarrón’s attack. He tackling her to the ground, and restrained her by pounding her head to the ground a few times, and proceeding to remove her legs.

The now legless Drum Sticks looked around, now having trouble concentrating on me or Guitarrón, her head wobbling. “Fuck…. You.”

Guitarrón spat at her. “Not even with a ten hoof pole Sticks.” Trotting over to me, he offered another towel. “You alright?”

“I am.” Taking the towel, I wiped off some of the blood on my hooves. It felt surreal. The act of cleaning blood off my hooves gave me a feeling of dread, not because of who I killed, but just that I had, and three times now, with a knife. Sighing, I gave the towel back. “Why do you have two towels?”

“Three actually.” He said in a matter-o-fact tone. “Their super useful, so I never leave home without one.” He put away the towel, and trotted back to Drum Sticks.

Trotting over to them, I looked down on the legless mare. “So a friend of yours?”

The Shadowrunner spat on her again. “Sister in law sadly, drove my brother to suicide.” Drum Sticks laughed, and Guitarrón kicked her in the stomach. “Somehow convinced his doctor to give my brother antidepressants, and would switch them with narcotics when she was pissed off at him. The chemical imbalance was too much for him.”

Looking at the mare, I felt disgusted. “So that’s why she became a bandit?”

“No, she got away with that. It wasn’t until she dropped my nephew in hot oil when the law came down on her, and she ran.” I cringed, and he kicked her again. “Turns out she had relatives and friends who were bandits. Former equality death squad to be correct. She fell off the raider up until today.”

“Like you’re no better! I know…” Guitarrón kicked Drum Sticks again, and she puked on the floor.

Aiming his gun down at her, Guitarrón spat on her one more time. “Speak when spoken to you peace of hog shit!” He placed the barrel on her head. “Now tell us why you’re here, why are you attacking the DJ, what’s compelling you to do act so brazenly?”

The bandit laughed. “You’re all fucked. We’re going to tear down your fucking system, and make a new one. The age of the metro is over!”

She got another kick from Guitarrón. “What does that mean, explain”

“It means when we're done, you will beg to be my sex slave!” She said with a mocking tone

Guitarrón went in for another kick, but I stopped him. “ Does the name Flintlock Hook mean anything to you?” The bandit paused, no longer laughing. “I see. What can you tell us about their ship?” Her face scrunched up, and she looked. “No matter, I know Orthrus will be able to get the information out of you.”

“The syndicate has first dibs on this.” Guitarrón said, placing a hoof on Drum Stick’s neck, and looked over at me. “Any problems with that?”

Before I could respond, Drum Sticks started convulsing violently. Guitarrón took his hoof off of her, and her face exploded. Blood splattered everywhere, getting on everything.

Guitarrón looked shocked, I knew I was. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!” he shouted.

Looking over at the body, if there was still anything in my stomach, I would have lost it. The Drum Sticks head was hollowed out, her face now missing, with the back of her head the only thing still attached. The inside were scorched, some of it still burning, she was as dead as dead could be.

Pulling out the towel Guitarrón had given me originally, I wiped off the pieces of Drumsticks off of me. Guitarrón was doing the same, having walked a bit away from the body. Trotting over to him, I gave him a knowing nod, confirming how disturbing that was. “My guess, must have some information protecting countermeasures.”

He nodded, “That makes sense.” Finally cleaned up, he put the towel away. “I’m betting you know who is behind this?”

I nodded. “Vaguely. Had a run in with them on the big island. They’re from outside the islands, have ships and vertabucks. They captured a bunch of bandits two days ago, probably these ones.”

Guitarrón paused for a moment, thinking about what I just said. Sighing, he trotted over to the stairwell. “Sounds like shits going down. Let’s get to the DJ, so I can report this to my broker.” I nodded, and followed him down the stairs.

____________________________________

DJ Cerberus didn’t respond to us at first, but after talking to the door for a few minutes, the DJ opened up. The DJ was a golden colored mirage pony mare with a flesh and blood front left leg, a pipbuck attached to the leg, and her hoof was painted purple. Her glowing red mane was branded back, tied to a glow stick on the end. She was also pregnant, her stomach bulging at the sides bigger than I had ever seen a pregnant mare’s stomach bulge before. She had forgone on most cloths, only wearing rainbow colored panties, and a thin torn up rainbow color shirt. Dark Red tinted glasses hid her eyes from me, It was hard to tell if it was perception or simply for style, not that I was going to ask of she was colorblind or not. Overall, she looked excessively unusual, making me feel a little wherry about associating with her.

In the room with her as a far more plain looking mirage pony mare. A bit small, she had a grayish green cote, same with the mane, and her cloths were a gray jumpsuit, identifying her as a janitor.

The room itself was also toned down, with the walls a simple powder blue, the ceiling a concrete gray, and the floor a soft pink. The walls were sparsely decorated, mostly photos, but also a shelf full of trophies, and some metro cola promotional items. She had one large bed with a rainbow colored sheet, and next to it were two baby cribs. The door was a beast to look at, thick, and with five locks on it. A pony would have to cut through the door to get in.

The DJ waddled over to the bed and laid down, bags under her eyes. With a wide mouth she loudly yawned. “The assholes are gone, good, I can finally get back to sleep.”

Guitarrón and I looked at each other and back to the DJ. I cleared my throat getting her attention. “Sorry, but I was sent to see you, by Shamisen.”

Nodding, Guitarrón spoke up after me. “I to have dealing with you mam. It should be quick, and then I’ll be out of your mane.” She sighed, and waved at the janitor to leave. The scared janitor mare was stopped by Guitarrón before she could leave, and given a coin. “Give this to your boss, and don’t ask questions.” Nodding, the janitor galloped off, stumbling along the way.

Eyeing us, DJ Cerberus nodded. “I remember now, the syndicate’ trying to pull strings, and get information. So they sent their two best agents to ensure my support.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry, but syndicate agent? I don’t do busses with any crime organization.”

Guitarrón laughed. “Sorry to burst your bubble miss, but you do. You just do all the legal jobs, I’m the one who does the real dirty work.”

Cerberus whistled, catching our attention. “You two may care about who works with what, but I don’t. Now if I remember correctly-“ She pointed at Guitarrón. “Your owner wants to set up deal in my club, and keep any equalist spies from finding out. I can do that, but it’s going to cost extra, the pricks have been more active lately. I don’t know what’s going on, but if a shootout happens on my dance floor, the cost doubles.”

He bowed. “Trust that our best will be there, and on their best behavior.”

Her hoof then pointed at me. “Now for you, your employer was vague on the details. Something about getting the old radio station up and running. I don’t know why she needs it, or how she knows I have it, but I know she is good for the bits.” She pointed at one of the cribs. “The items is under that, it’s the pink box with the party balloons painted on it.”

I trotted over, finding a small odd pink box under the crib. A small rock was on top of it. Pacing it on the bed I poked at it. “What’s it do?”

Lifting it up, Cerberus pointed at two ports on the box. “Well the rock’s name is bolder, right now he protects the box. As for box itself, it’s a Ministry of Moral bux. One that was oddly made to be super durable. It also works as a signal booster, so everything tends to come in loud and clear. “

So it was an M.o.M. artifact. “How did you come across it?”

She took bolder off the box, and onto her head. “Been in the family for generations, same with bolder. My mom gave them to me for good luck when she found out I was going to have foals. It’s a family tradition, you understand.”

I lightly patted my scarf, and nodded.

She passed the M.o.M. bug over to me. “Good, then you know to be careful with it. Now what you’re going to want to do is head over to the old radio tower on the surface. It’s a historic sight, so the path there will be clear. There, you just need to get the tower up and running, and install the bug into the broadcasting booth. You will be looking for a big boxy computer that sends and receives radio signals.”

I placed the box in my pocket. “Anything else I might need to know. Not to be suspicious, but I’ve been running into one surprise after another lately.”

The DJ chuckled. “Smart mare. If it was a week ago, I’d tell you to watch out for the scouts. The adults like using the tower for a camp ground when taking the foals to the surface.”

I nodded. “Ya, I remember. Got my surface expedition badge from that. Went up there a few more times as a senior scout.”

DJ sighed. “I was one of the foals who pissed ourselves scared, and chose not to go all the way.” I held back laughing, it was actually quite common. Living underground your whole life, and being told about how horrible the surface can be, most foals were terrified of leaving the metro. “But sadly that’s not going on this week.”

I had a feeling that I was not going to like this. “What’s up there?”

“Short answer, the republic. Well the equalists to be exact. Don’t know why, but they’ve been really active for months now, and in the last week have been getting aggressive. They’ve been staying out of the way of the island's normal activities, so your best bet is to wait until a maintenance crew goes up to check on the tower. But that’s in a month or two.”

I sighed. “I don’t think I can wait more than a day.”

She nodded. “Then I suggest going in at night, and stay as below the raider as you can.”

“That should work for me. I still need to pick up my guns later.” I was not going to the surface with just a knife, or some air rifle cobbled together by a bandit. “Guess I’ll be going then. Thanks for the advice.”

Guitarrón and I turned to leave, but the DJ whistling caught our attention. “The stallion can go, but if you would be so kind miss, and help me out for a minute.” Guitarrón chuckled, and winked at me before trotting off. I turned around to look at the mare, who was struggling to get onto her hooves. “Sorry, my brother had been looking after me, but right now he’s out working. Good thing too, the stallion can’t stand violence.”

I helped her up. “What about the father?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know who the father is. Orgies tend to do that.”

I almost tripped over myself. “Well do you have any suitors, some pony who wants to be the father?”

She laughed. “You sound like my friends. But ya, I have a few. Being as well-known as I am finding suitors easy. But I’m not ready to settle down and do the family thing.” I cocked an eyebrow, and furled her eyebrow at me. “Yes I know I’m bolted up with two healthy foals, no need to get eye snippy with me. Just take me to the back parlor room, it’s just next door.”

She was able to walk on her own, if a bit with a waddle. I mostly moved the random bits and pieces that were left by the bandits, out of her way. The parlor room was about as toned down as her bedroom, but much bigger. It had its own bar, game table, and a big puffy couch sitting in front of a monitor.

I helped her onto the couch, she sinking into it with a satisfying sigh. “So if you’re not interested in starting a family, why have the foals?” I couldn’t but help to ask, or it would bug me.

She sad there for a few seconds, relaxing, with her eyes closed. “It’s for my brother. Him and his wife are sterile, so I asked them about it, and I was stuck in a hug for over a minute. Just didn’t expect it to be twins.”

“Oh,” was all I could bring myself to say.

She chuckled. “Ya, life’s little surprises, the names Cabrette Pieper.” She reached out a hoof.

“Vibraphone Echo.” I shook hooves with her.

“The foals will be in good hooves, and I can see them whenever I want. It’s the best thing I can do for them, which is what matters the most.” Cabrette placed a hoof on her stomach, looking satisfied. “Can’t say I’m not growing attached to the troublemakers, despite all their kicking.”

“Kicking?”

Cabrette smiled. “E’yep, last I checked, they have all their legs. The club is not the cleanest environment, but I’ve managed to keep myself clear of toxins for years. So after a quick stop at New Gen, and nearly half my savings, I now have two very healthy foals inside me.”

I couldn’t help but feel warm, like the events of just a few minutes ago were washing away. Making the humiliation feel worth it, knowing that I helped save Cabrette and her unborn foals. “So what can I help you with Cabrette?”

“Yes, can you grab a box from the fridge at the bar? It’s on the bottom.”

I trotted over, and opened the fridge. It was full of food sticks, and vegetable juice. Despite her outward appearance, Cabrette was a very health conscious pony. Picking up the box, I trotted back over to the couch, and placed in on the floor near her.

“Thanks.” She said with a smile. “Lately I’ve been getting cravings for my mother’s soup, so she’s been making extra batches for me. Never thought I’d crave rock soup.” I cocked an eyebrow at the last statement, and Cabrette chuckled. “It’s a family thing.”

I chuckled back. “Ya, my family has a few zebra recipes passed down through the generations. I even know how to speak a little bit of zebra.”

“Zebra, that’s rare.” She scratched her chin. “You know, I have a friend who told me that she had a griffin as an ancestor. Had an old photo to prove it. You think that the line was at zebras, but turns out ponies can mate with griffins too. Strange.”

I nodded. “Orthrus has a whole record on family histories. Mostly to help keep inbreeding from happening, but also to track the different birth defects in some families.”

Cabrette rolled her eyes. “let’s not talk about Orthrus. I got nothing against the group, but my family’s not on good terms with them. Something about a family heirloom no being given back.”

“Right, well is there anything else I can do for you?”

She thought for moment. “I could do with a cuddle partner.”

I shook my head. “Sorry, I’m into stallions.”

Cabrette sighed. “A shame. Well I’m covered here. If you come back later, I’ll have the VIP booth open to you, so just hit me up the next time you're over. Oh and before you go, take one of my hats as a reward, the ones above the bar. My employee’s will see it as your VIP pass.”

“A hat?” I asked.

She nodded. “Their good hats, custom made too.”

I sighed, and trotted over to the bar and looked for the hats. There were six hats on display above me. One was an old Sparkle-Cola cap, the front having a metal plate advertising Sparkle-Cola rad. I left that one alone. Two were for club Three Dog, and the last three were from Metro-Cola. I picked a red Metro-Cola cap, it was thick in material, had a flat top, and a stout and thick metal plate above the bill that was a matted silver and yellow. On the metal plate was ‘M-C’ which was simple enough for my liking.

The hat fitted nicely onto my head, it made to accommodate for a mirage pony’s horn. Trotting back over to Cabrette, she gave me a smile and nod. “Now that one brings back memories. The Metro-Cola’s emergency rush race. A pony would drink a Lurker-Blue and then try to run an obstacle cores. The hat was given to whoever got to the end, and the winner was the one with the shortest time. Only three ponies got the hat.

Saying our goodbyes, we parted ways. Making my way to the club’s dance floor, Guitarrón was waiting with Turnip and Rufus. My two companions were happy to see me, Rufus quick to jump on me and give me a lick.

Guitarrón trotted over, a slick smile on his face. “Nice hat, it goes well with your scarf.”

“Thanks.” I gave a little glare. “So I’m guessing you want something else?”

He nodded. “There’s some pony who would like to talk to you at the Lucky Rabbit's Foot. A free lunch, and show is included.”

I pushed Rufus off of me. “And what’s it about? And if it involves me dancing on a pole, you will be the fourth pony I stabbed today.”

Chuckling, Guitarrón trotted to the door. “No worry, this pony may work with the syndicate, but it’s all legal stuff. She just needs a pony with a clean record to do a job for her. Actually she’s the reason I’m here in the first place.”

Thinking about it, my real job started after nightfall, so I at least had time for a free lunch. “Fine, I’ll go see what that mare wants.”

______________________________________

The red light district doubled at the gray market of the station. Nothing sold here was illegal, but most of the stuff couldn’t leave the island, some couldn’t even leave the station.It was the drugs that had the restrictions, but there were services as well that were mostly illegal off the island.

One shop was for Cybernetic modifications, a pony outside the shop had altered wings that were three times bigger than normal, and in a rainbow of colors. Another pony had her back hooves end in wheels, and her horn extended.

A tattoo parlors specialized in risky inking, and even advertised using magic ink. The artist inside the shop had glowing blue eyes, and strips. Only the stripes in his mane did not glow, hinting that it was inked in, which means he inked his eyes.

There were a few less extreme stores, mostly porn shops. I had little interest in most of them, not being into BDSM, or other kind of roleplay, but an underwear store did catch my eyes. It sold cloths done in the Orphic kingdoms style, with lots of frills and lace. The clothes themselves were simply short paradise of the real thing, as sex was still the team of the shop, but I didn’t mind browsing the store. The mare who ran the store was also very friendly, and did let me try on a few outfits the last time I was over. Made me want to get socking friendly legs just so I could where some of the other outfits.

At the end of the street was the Lucky Rabbit's Foot, It reached to the ceiling, and was covered in lights. Next to the neon sign was the image of a mare in a red piece and rabbit ears, she looked down onto the street with a surly stare, almost beckoning every pony to come in.

On the ground, escort mares and stallions called out to other ponies, offering their company for the day. They weren’t prostitutes, though it was known that sex did happen from time to time, their main talent was stroking a ponies ego, and helping them have a good time. Most ponies who hire them tend to lose all their bits, but rarely seemed upset about it.

Guitarrón stopped at the entrance. “Just follow me, I’ll take you the place.” Nodding, I followed the Shadowrunner in, Rufus and Turnip behind me.

______________________________________

Footnote:

Item Obtained:

‘M-C’ Cap. A strong Mirage pony cap reinforced with a metal plate. The M-C stands for Metro-Cola, a popular soft drink in the Marewaii Metro system. +1 Per, +1 DT, +5 Survival