Fallout Equestria: Aurora
By CaptainSparx
Chapter Three: Ponyville Prodigal
“Sorry but we have an awful lot to do…”

The wagon bounced along slowly behind me. It was considerably lighter with the large metal cage removed. Though it was still slow going. Trotting, as best I could with my load beside Silver Apple. We were taking turns pulling the wagon with the mares riding on the flat deck. They were keeping their eyes peeled for trouble. I was thankful for the desolation of this place for once.

I had initially wanted to travel light and fast but given Static’s inability to walk, and that Rust was pretty beaten up already, I had opted to strip down the wagon for travel. It didn’t look pretty but it got the job done. A rotting flatbed atop a rusty chassis, we used the tarp from over the cage to cover the bed and tossed the bedrolls onto that. If looks weren’t enough, the ride was even worse. The mares bouncing with every rut and rock along what on vaguely resembled a road. The deck provided no cover, and offered nothing to hold onto. Thankfully the clouds prevented the sun from becoming a problem. You take what you can, when you can. It had been several days and I let my mind wander back.

After everyone had settled down for the night and we had all woken up alive I set about making preparations for travel. Static was surprisingly helpful with dismantling the wagon and even tried to fashion a set of leg braces for herself from the scrap. The results were less than satisfactory. Silver explained to me the importance of looting. And I spent the better part of the morning looking for the corpses I had left the night before. Everything sure was looked different during the day.

I found the unicorn and mare in the alley only after resorting to tracking my own bloody hoof prints back to the scene. The unicorn had a small satchel that had several small grenades and a bent, rusty knife. I grabbed the entire satchel and proceeded to strip off the ponies armour. Crude, blood-stained leather with crudely bent pieces of scrap fashioned in an attempt to provide some semblance of armour. Why hadn’t I worn my combat barding that fateful day two hundred years ago. It would make this stuff look like a fillies Nightmare Night costume. Still, pickers couldn’t be choosers. After collecting what I could I turned my attention to the mare. Her armour was only slightly better. A tough leather shoulder pad held on by a chest strap with a sheath holding a broken saw blade. Scraping as much caked blood and brains off as I could I but the armour on and replaced the saw blade with my own buck knife before returning to camp. I never did find the mares hammer-thingy.

We spent the rest of the day prepping the wagon and trying our best not to kill each other. Rust was kind enough to offer to help but had to take a break after the physical exertion nearly brought her to her knees. She really needed to just rest up. That and her continual bleeding was a grave concern. At night it wasn’t noticeable but after she woke in a small pool of her own blood I was pretty concerned. I figured the stallions must have really done a number on her. A healing potion would do her insides a world of good. Sadly we had to be content with bandages and lots of bed rest. I was now left with two effectively crippled ponies. This was becoming less and less of an escort mission and more a medical evacuation.

The wagon was ready by sundown so we decided to get one good night's sleep before setting off in the morning. We took inventory of what we had collected off the slavers. I had a shotgun, my buck knife and several grenades (which I quietly kept to myself). Silver had his rifle which he assured me was in perfect working order. Just a little finicky with the trigger assembly. Static opted for the knife while Rust said she preferred to fix ponies up rather than take them apart. Yeah, a pacifist. Or at least a really devoted medic. She had as much skill as any field medic, and I don’t doubt she would have been a doctor if given the chance and education. Still she had limited training so I made a note to step in if I felt something was beyond her skill level. I don’t need to go into my past more than I have to. They already thought I was a little loose in the head so I really don’t want on step on any hooves. The armour was practically worthless, being cut up into strips and packed into the satchel that now hung across Silver’s back.

In the morning we all ate a hearty breakfast, topped off whatever containers we could with water and set off in the direction indicated by our unicorn navigator. I figured we had enough food to eat well for four to five days. A little more than a week if we ration it. Oh and did I mention that this wagon is still rather heavy.

“I’m telling you, it’s a right pretty spot in that valley. I’ve only been there once but I’d sure love to go back someday.” Silver was in the middle of filling me in on the wasteland. I was only half paying attention. We had swapped out and I was more interested in the pair of binoculars static had found buried in the hoof locker. Only one lens worked, and it had a nice crack in it at that. Still, it allowed me to see quite a way off.

“Ooff,” stumbling over yet another rock.

“You should really put those down and pay attention to where yer goin.” Silver halted, sending the mares sliding along the wagon deck on the bed rolls. I passed the binoculars to Static and pointed out at a small collection of dots in the distance. A small collection of moving dots.

They were ponies as far as I could tell. But being out of range of EFS I wasn’t able to determine friend or foe. I really didn’t want to have to get close enough to find out. Especially with two ponies down right of the bat. “Yeah I know. I haven’t plowed dirt yet though. Hey Static, what do you make of those ponies up there? Friendly?”

The unicorn squinted into the damaged view piece, focusing the lens on the group in the distance. “Uh… no. Looks like a group of bandits. Or really well dressed raiders to me.” She passed the binoculars to Rust for a second opinion. “Either way looks like they’re traveling on the same road... toward us.” Frowning as she said the last part.

“I don’t like it, I count at least seven of them. Looks like assault rifles and two maybe three battle saddles.” Rust passed the binoculars down to Silver who promptly looked through the wrong end for just a little too long before flipping it around. “I don’t think we’d stand a chance against them.” Well if we were all in fighting shape, had weapons and the element of surprise we might be able to take them. Since we were lacking in two of the three it was time for a different plan.

“Damn,” pacing back and forth in a futile attempt to think of something.

“Yeah well it was nice knowing ya.” Static chirped, getting a scolding glance from Rust. “What? It’s not like you can just go a talk with them. ‘Um excuse me but there are more of you and you have better weapons so please let us pass and don’t hurt us.’ And I don’t think we can get very far with the wagon without them noticing.” She had a point. Negotiation was out. And so was running. That left giving up, or hiding. Well okay, hiding it was. Giving up wasn’t a viable option right now.

“The only good raider is a dead raider.” Silver quoted the wasteland axiom, getting a nod of agreement from the rest of us. I had only limited experience with raiders. Namely seventeen pieces of lead and running for my life but it was enough that I could share their sentiment.

Most of the morning had been spent on filling me in with little excerpts from the wasteland survival guide. A book written by a pony who lived in New Appleloosa. I would have to pick a copy up if we ever did get there. Still Rust and Silver could recall enough of it that they had been able to give me a brief overview. The section on raiders was pretty thorough though. My (friends, acquaintances, charges, patients?), well whatever you can call them, gave me a crash course in ponies you might encounter in the wasteland. To sum it all up you essentially had two types of ponies out here. The kill you on sight ones, and the others couldn’t care less if you died. Feral ghouls, raiders, and in a general sense, bandits in general filled up the first group. Then in the second group you had pretty much everypony else in the whole fucking wasteland. Your everyday wasteland survivors, merchants, opportunistic adventurers and the like. Slavers are kind of a gray area between the two. To them, their stock was bottle caps, which I learned was the currency everyone seems to use these days. Some took decent care of the slaves and others, like the group I had essentially massacred, didn’t. Still, I had been operating like a soldier. Red was dead, as the old saying goes (well as old as PipBucks and EFS have been around that is). Yeah great way to start out in the new world. I’d need to be more discriminating now, especially since Silver had been red and would have been dead if I had followed through.

“Hmm… that looks a little promising.” Static interrupted my thought process. She had the binoculars once more and was scanning the not-so-distant land in front of us. “There seems to be an old abandoned house about a mile or so off the road to the south. If we can get there it might be safe enough to hold up in for a while.”

“What makes you say that?” Rust asked as she was passed the optic and took a look for herself. “Um… oh dear. I don’t know how best to say this but um… minefield?”

“Well it would be a great thing to have between us and some bandits. What do ya say Feathers? Fly us across?” I looked up at the unicorn, only slightly bothered by the nickname. Mostly annoyed because I really didn’t want to have to explain the whole no flying thing. “Feathers?”

“Um, no. Any other options?”

“We could all get shot to pieces, get killed, or worse, get turned into sex-slaves for some deranged mutant zebra ghoul. Your pick.”

“She does have a valid point. If you ferry us over one at a time it shouldn’t be too bad. We could ferry over our supplies after.” Rust chimed in. Breaking a little of the tension yet still not getting the point.

“I don’t want to fly you all across.” I paused, receiving scolding looks from the trio of ponies. “I… I can’t fly. Well at least not without drugs.”

“But you're a pegasus? You have wings. Why would you need a drug?” Rust rubbed her chin with a hoof.

Sighing I sat down and held out a wing. It bent at a slight angle halfway to the first joint. “They weren’t set before taking a healing potion. It hurts too much to fly much more than a few paces.”

“But weren’t you flying when we first met you? You bowled me right over. What do you call that?” Silver questioned, unhitching himself from the wagon. I really didn’t want to be having this conversation right now. Especially when the clock was ticking.

“I can glide pretty much no problem. It’s the flapping that doesn’t work too well. I can ignore the pain with a dose of Med-X and some Buck gives me the endurance. I highly doubt it would be enough to let me heft any of you though and I’m all out of X.”

“So flying’s out. How about we hoof it?” Static said flatly. Oh sure, we’ll all just walk calmly through a minefield. Great idea, real smart. “Do any of you have a better idea?”

“Um, no. But I’m pretty sure that’s a one way ticket. One wrong step and BOOM, no more pony.” Silver clapped his hooves together for emphasis. I jumped slightly at the sound. Mines made me uneasy. I prefer dangers I could see, that way I could take them head on. None of this minding my own business and then getting blown up out of nowhere shit.

“Well they should have a delay built in with a proximity sensor. I can use my horn to sense the radio waves they emit. That way I can navigate our way through.”

“Well that’s better than anything I’ve got.” Honestly I would brave it on my own, but not with four ponies (two of which would need help). There are just too many variables. The odds of us surviving the minefield was significantly higher than even one of us surviving if we faced the bandits. A single battle saddle laden pony would be hard enough with our limited firepower. Not to mention two or more saddles and a hoofful of armed and armored support. “Well unless anypony has a better option I’m game. I don’t like the odds either way but I don’t think we have much choice at this point.” Everyone else looked to be in the same boat, err… wagon.

Hefting two Buck tablets in my hoof I tossed them into my mouth and followed it with a swig of water from my canteen. Within seconds I could feel the surge of energy throughout my body as fatigue left me. Splitting what gear and supplies we had between myself and Silver. We ditched the wagon at the border to the minefield, just as the bandits seemed to take notice and alter their course to intercept us. It was now or never.

Static clung to my back, hooves around my neck. Not the most comfortable of positions but then again we couldn’t let her scoot her little flank all across the field now could we? I was just thankful she was fairly light. Or was that the Buck talking? Eh, who cares? Rust followed closely behind me and Silver picked up the rear, carrying the majority of our food and water stores.

“Okay, left. Now a little to the right. Left some more…” Statics focused with her horn aglow as we weaved across the field. Silver and Rust making sure to step in my hoof steps. “Left, right, a little more to the right. Okay take a few steps straight.” A rifle shot cracked through the air. A bullet whizzed by overhead. We were within range of the bandits now. I just hope none of them are good shots. I couldn’t exactly turn around to face them, or run away at the moment. “Sharp right turn.” A bullet buzzed past my shoulder. Just a little too close for comfort.

“Damn it Static, hurry it up will ya.” Hissing as I made slow but steady progress towards the house. I heard another report from a rifle ring out.

“AH, damn,” Silver shouted out as he collapsed to the ground behind us. I couldn’t turn around we were only twenty paces to the door. I couldn’t stop or we’d all get killed. If he was still alive once the mares were inside I could maybe go back. Nopony left behind, not this time.

Bursting through the door Static rolled off my back to the side. A quick scan of the room and it seemed safe enough. A skeleton lay off in a corner with a pile of empty bottles and a rifle. Our generous host I presume. I didn’t have time for that though. Brushing past Rust I bolted back out the door. Silver was crawling as fast as he could towards the door. A bloody trail flowing out from underneath his thigh. He drug his leg limply behind him. From the way it was contorted the bone must have been shot clean through. I tried to remember my path as best I could as I rushed for him. beep… “Oh crap.” beep… A bullet whizzed by, tearing at my mane and embedding itself in the side of the house behind me. beep.. beep.. beep I dove towards Silver, covering his face with my body and wings as I covered my own head with my hooves. BOOM. The chunks of earth raining down upon us.

“You’re stupid! You’ll get us both killed!”

“You’re the one that got himself shot!” I yelled back. I could hardly hear with the ringing in my ears. I doubt he was much better off. A bullet passed through my feathers. Leaving a nice round hole in my plumage. “We have to move! NOW!!” I half dragged, half heaved the stallion across my back and stood to all fours. Even with the Buck he was heavy. I felt a bullet part my mane. But something was off about it. It was coming from the other direction! “Stop shooting!” I yelled towards the house. The rusty barrel of a rifle poking out the window withdrew as I made a mad dash for the door. Well as mad as anypony who was being shot at while running through a minefield. BOOM. I didn’t even hear the warning beeps as the ground erupted several feet to my right, throwing both Silver and myself towards the side of the house. We were plastered in dirt and debris and effectively deaf but other than that we were okay. Crashing through the door I dropped the heavy stallion to the side and kicked the door closed behind me. I looked around for the shooter pony and my eyes settled on Static sitting near the window. An old rifle levitating in her green magic. My hearing slowly returned as I staggered into the middle of the room.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you’d jump up that fast.” Static apologized. She had almost taken my head clean off! “But I got one of their sharpshooters.” She seemed quite proud of that fact. I would be too if it wasn’t for my near death experience from friendly fire.

“Keep that thing pointed OUTSIDE and see if you can’t pick any more of them off.” She gave me a corny salute and turned back to her post. I trotted back to Silver as she returned to taking shots at the bandits. Deterring them from trying the minefield themselves. Rust was carefully looking over her friend. His leg was obviously broken and he was bleeding pretty profusely. On top of that he seemed pretty battered from the explosions I had triggered. We need medical supplies stat. “What do you think? Is he going to make it?”

“He’s losing a lot of blood. I can stop it but he won’t let me touch it. I need to set his leg and then if we could find a healing potion he should be stable. Can you go look for medical supplies?” She was distressed. Silver didn’t have much time and we had no supplies other than bandages. I nodded and left the room, seeing what, if anything, I could find that would be useful. The kitchen was my first stop. It was a mess. The long since rotted remains of many a critter covered every flat surface. Oddly enough the fridge was filled with two hundred year old whiskey. I preferred hard cider myself but what can you do. Still I grabbed a few bottles and rushed back to the main room. Given the room’s large open space and couch it must be the living room. I popped the top and held it to Silvers lips. Tilting his head back to get him to take a swig.

“What are you doing?” Rust grabbed the bottle out of my hooves.

“Painkiller.” I sadly flatly, opening a second bottle and pressing it to his lips. I brushed her off with a wing when she tried to take the second bottle.

“Since when do you think that’s a good idea… and what makes you think you know enough to prescribe treatment” She pushed me aside, spilling some alcohol on the floor. Such a waste.

“Damn it Rust. He’s going to die if we can’t get that bleeding stopped. I know you know a thing or two about medicine but I was a medic myself back in the day. On the front lines you use whatever you have, and right now that’s whiskey.” She gave me a stern look. But I could see the fear in her eyes. She would do anything to save him, so much for love. I would have, did, do the same for my unit. They were family. I would have done anything to save them. “Alcohol helps numb the pain.” And it really helped ease the passing if it went that far. Before she could object Silver had snatched the bottle out of her hooves and started chugging it down as fast as he could.

“Silver, take it easy now. Normal drinks nice and slow now.” Rust warned, helping him hold the bottle. All the while she glared at me. I can play the bad guy from time to time. It was anyponies guess if there were medical supplies around here so I had just grabbed the first thing I could get my hooves on that would work. I pulled the bandages out of my saddle bag and bunched them up. As soon as Silver started looking a little loopy I jammed the wad against the hole in his thigh and wrapped it tight. It soaked up red really quick and I added more wadded up bandages to it. I repeated the process on the inside of his thigh where the bullet and several fragments of bone had decided to exit. It was pretty damn messy but at least we got the bleeding under control.

“Okay that should hold him for a bit. I’ll go see if I can find anything else.” Before anypony could object I got up and left the room. Back in the kitchen I popped the top off a whiskey and took a swig. Bletch, nasty stuff. I forced myself to swallow, a warm tingly feeling in my chest. Nothing like a little spirits to fortify oneself. I set the open bottle on the counter and trotted off to explore the rest of the house. I would be back for my drink later. I still had a good section of the house to explore.

One of the bedrooms was locked. Well I figured whoever the owner was wouldn’t mind. I faced away from the door, rocking onto my forehooves and kicked out and the door handle. A resounding smack and the door flung inward, showing the floor with several splinters from the doorjamb. “Well damn. I see why they locked you away.” I approached the medical cot lying in the middle of the room. The skeletal remains of a mare lay upon it, covered in IV tubes and bits of bandages that hadn’t quite rotted away. Hopefully the pony had passed in her sleep. It looked really painful. Many of the bones were broken, several in the process of healing when the patient had passed. I trust she wouldn’t mind if I helped myself to any supplies I could scavenge.

Two large bottles of Med-X were attached to some pumps that fed the IV lines. Several Ministry of Peace first aid boxes were piled in the corner. And two crates were stacked at the foot of the cot. Okay, now was the time to open that hospital. I popped open the first aid boxes. A few rotted bandages, and two empty syringes. I tossed the rags but held on to the needles. I was tempted to shoot myself up with some X for the dull pain in my chest from getting mined. Hesitating enough to question what it would do with the alcohol in my system. I had only taken a drink, albeit a rather hearty drink. The syringes were sorted by my PipBuck and pushed to the bottom of my bag. I stripped a few of the better looking IV tubes and added them and the two bottles of Med-X. Coiling the tube and placing them and the bottles in one of the MoP tins. Here’s hoping I saved the best for last. Pulling my knife I wedged it under the lid of the first crate. Once it was sufficiently stuck I reared up and pushed down with my weight on the handle. The corner popped up and I repeated the process several times before I could pry the lid off and toss it aside.

Eww, gross. Two century old hay clung to my hooves as I sifted through the crate for anything useful. Something brushed against my hoof, it was hard and made a soft clicking sound. I pulled out the glass vial. Score! A healing potion. Setting it aside I fished about and found two more potions and collected a small array of vary sized needles. Then I felt like an idiot. On the back side of the lid I had tossed aside was a packing list. I clearly spelled out everything I had fished out and even had expiration dates for the potions labeled. Well they still looked fine to me. Hell, they looked better than the one I had taken a few nights ago and that had done me wonders.

Turning my attention to the second crate I pried the lid off and read through the contents list. Tubes, straps and oh look, four leg braces. This crate wasn’t as tightly packed with hay so I didn’t have to fish about nearly as much. Two rear braces and several lengths of strapping material. Clicking the MoP tin closed I flipped it over. The back side had a few different mounting options for placing on walls or hang on posts. It also had a series of slits cut in an “X” pattern for carrying it with straps. Taking several lengths I worked them though then slung it over my back, opposite my bag. With the shotgun slung across my back it was really starting to feel like my days back on the front lines. Tucking the braces under my wing I gave the room one last look over before closing the door. Well closing it as best I could with the busted frame.

There was a second bedroom in this house. Actually I was curious. I pulled up my PipBuck map and looked for a location marker. Minefield was nicely labeled behind me. Didn’t need any more information on that. And a second tag was nestled on top of my orientation arrow. Zooming in so I could read it, ‘Custard's Last Stand’. “Welp, he’s dead.” Not much to see in this room.

I trotted back down the hall and peeked into the bathroom. Several ammo boxes littered the floor and were piled into the tub. Some .223 a heap of 12ga and oh look, more whisky. I’m pretty sure Custard drank himself into oblivion at this point. I could really use some twenty gauge shells and I had no idea what Silver used. We could sort through it later. Right now I had two patients to see to.

“Oh good, you’re back.” Rust let out a sigh of relief.

“Did I miss something?” I spoke too soon. Lying in the middle of the floor, forehooves and muzzle bound lay Silver Apple. Three empty bottles lay next to him. He actually looked rather… well...drunk. A loopy smile as he attempted to wriggle out of the bindings on his legs.

“He um… he uh...”

“Just spit out will ya.” Static interjected. “He was making a move on her.” The mare snorted from her seat by the window. Still focusing down the sights of the rifle at whatever lay beyond. She pulled the trigger and the sharp crack filled the room. “Take that you sick son of a mule.”

“Okay, yeah. I think he had a tad too much. Never know what we’re like when we’re all good and liquored up.” Actually I knew perfectly well what I was like. That’s why it was two mugs of hard cider or half a bottle of the hard stuff and I had to hit the hay. At least that’s what I’d been told. “So you bound and muzzled him?”

“Well I had to. He’s in no condition to be making merry as it were.” Rust snipped, making it pretty clear that this was all my fault. Hey, you can lead a pony to liquor but you can’t make them drink… or something like that. “Anyway, can you hold him down? I need to try and set his leg so I can splint it.”

“Okay, sure thing.” I set the MoP tin on the ground and flipped it open. “But first you need to take one of these.” Pulling out the flask with the healing potion and holding it out to her. “You haven’t been all too great yourself and I can’t risk you just passing out on me during this.”

“I can’t Silver needs it.”

“That’s why I have one for him as well.” Lifting out a second flask to show her. “You take yours and then you can help him. Not the other way around. “Oh and Static, when you have a minute try these out.” I tossed the braces over to her, landing in a clanging heap at her hooves. A nod of approval was all she gave me as she sent another shot down field.

“I can’t we… we should save it. We might need it later.” Rust ignored the potion, brushing it aside and turning her attention to Silver’s leg.

“I’m more worried about you getting worse. What those stallions did to you wasn’t right, but if you don’t take it I don’t know how long you’ll last. The internal bleeding will only get worse.” That got a reaction out of her. Well more a shameful one when I reminded her of her rapists. “Rust I know you want to help ponies, but you can’t do that if you don't take care of yourself.”

“But what about you? You got practically blown up out there, you can’t tell me you’re in top shape either.” I swear I was going to get this mare to take it one way or another.

“Some minor contusions and some small lacerations with a general soreness. Nothing some rest and a few bandages can’t fix.” Actually if I could just dose up on Med-X I’d call it good. “But this isn’t about me. You will take this. That’s an order soldier.”

“Who put you in charge, you can’t even fly you pathetic excuse for a pegasus.”

“You will take the healing potion or so help me Luna I’ll hold you down and pour every last drop down your throat.” The look of shock on her face paled in comparison to the one I must have gave as something hard connected with my head and sent me flying across the room. My hooves instinctively covered my head as I looked around for what had struck me. Standing beside where I had been sitting was the unicorn. A hoof still poised in the air as she looked behind her, admiring her work. Those braces had really done wonders for her and I could attest to the strength behind that bucking. “Ow, my head. Why’d you do that?”

Why head was still swimming as tears obscured my vision. “Oh I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with you being a complete ass!” Static hissed over her back then turned to the yellow hued mare. “And you, I don’t know what’s gotten into your head. You were dealt a pretty shitty hand back there, get over it. What’s done is done.” She picked up the potion in her magic and shoved it into Rusty Needles face, glaring over at me. “And drink up. Generals orders.”

“I’m not a general. Just a lieutenant.” I stated matter-of-factly. Still I don’t think anypony heard me. Rust drank down the potion. All the while giving an incredulous look to both Static and myself. After several seconds the potion had been downed and Rust sat itching her belly something fierce. “Try not to itch it. It won’t make it feel any less weird.” To my surprise she actually listened to me.

“Well if you’re done having yer marbles scattered I could use a hoof with Silver.” Nodding I wobbled over and pretty much laid on top of the other stallion in an attempt to hold him down. To his benefit he didn’t put up much of a fight. Maybe it was just the alcohol. Still I was barely ready when Rust started a countdown. “On three. One… Two…” CRACK

The sound of bone being snapped back into place was sickening. Despite being muzzled the stallion below me let out a scream more fitting a schoolyard filly. Maybe he wasn’t as drunk as he should be. I held him as still as I could as Rust used some of the strapping I had found and several old pieces of timber to tie up a makeshift splint. As soon she was confident it was properly set she uncapped the second healing potion and shoved it into the stallion's mouth, upturning his head, forcing him to swallow. At least it got him to shut up.

“There, all better.” Rust sat back and wiped a hoof across her brow. Then absentmindedly scratched her belly.

“I told you not to itch.”

“Sorry, it just… ugh. I’m just tired is all.”

“Sure, you go get some rest. There’s a spare bedroom in the back you can use. Much better than the floor. It’s all yours if you want it.” I clicked the lid closed on the first aid tin.

“Thanks. Um, could you… uh. Help me get Silver there? I don’t want to untie him till he’s sober.”

I chuckled. Yeah, that was probably smart. “Sure thing.”

Another shot rang through the air. “And another one bites the dust.” Remind me to never get on the wrong side of her rifle.

The dynamic duo was healing up nicely. Though Silver sure had a grand ole time with the splitting headache that came with his hangover. One thing a healing potion couldn’t cure. The room the pair occupied must have been the master bedroom. Static found that piling up several sheets on top of the old musty crate hay formed a nice substitute nest. I still can’t quite figure out how she managed to get herself to fit inside the confines of one of those crates. I got the couch. Or rather what hadn’t rotted away over the years. I sat fiddling with the shovel head I had found on my first day in the wasteland. Static had showed some skill in punching a hole in each corner so she could thread some strapping through. It wasn’t the most beautiful thing but it was thick enough to offer some protection. I decided to wear it under my utility jacket as a chest plate.

The bandits had eventually left, figuring we weren’t worth the effort. I took a Buck and some X and flew over to loot what I could off the corpses that had fallen. And see if they had left anything in the wagon. The wagon had been damaged beyond repair and stripped bare of anything useful. Even the hoof locker was no longer bolted down but was emptied and upside down roughly ten meters away from the rest of the wagon. The corpses yielded little better. The bandits had looted their fallen brethren and I was only able to scavenge some empty shell casings and two twenty gauge rounds. It was two more than I had so I was grateful for that at least. Still,when I had gotten back Silver surprised me with having sorted through all the ammo. He had found a whole case of twenty gauge under the master bed along with a gun so rusty it wouldn’t even make a decent club. Static took the gun apart and managed to salvage the trigger assembly to fix Silver’s rifle with. He had a box of bulk 5.56 for his rifle, I had thirty-eight rounds of buckshot and twenty-three slugs (according to my PipBuck inventory spell) and Static even had quite the pile of .223 ammo. The target rifle Static had looted had been kept in decent shape, with only a little rust here and there. The scope on top, with her incredible accuracy more than made up for the lack of stopping power.

We’d been holed up here for two days. That left three days of rations to get to Ponyville. Which according to Static was two days journey if we didn’t run into anything to delay us further. I was at least thankful all of us could walk now. Rust was doing much better and you could hear the metal clink of hoof steps as Static would occasionally pace back and forth in the kitchen. What she was doing in there I really didn't want to know. I never did go back to finish my drink.

KaBLAM! The sound echoed down the street as the raider was enveloped in a red mist and fell in a lifeless heap. Damn, I loved shotguns. “Silver, watch your six!”

“My what?” Silver threw a sideways glance as he blasted the hooves clean off a raider. The giant sledge falling on top of the now limbless pony with a sickening crunch.

“Your back, watch your back!” I barked back at him as I racked another round. Silver turned and ducked just in time to miss getting beaned with a bat. Only what sick bastard stuck rusty nails in the end and wrapped the rest in barbed wire? I no longer liked Ponyville. This wasn’t exactly the welcome I was looking forward to, dodging bullets and fighting for our life with a seemingly endless horde of mentally deranged freaks. I backed up and narrowly avoided a thrown spear. I turned to face the attacker and was about to fire when the ponies head exploded like a watermelon. Bits of brain and bone splattered me and the wall. Eww, gross. Giving a grateful nod to Static as I wiped brain juice off my face. The mare just pivoted on her hind legs and picked off another raider with a headshot yet again. So glad she’s on our side.

A pair of raiders bolted out from around the corner. One had a large plank held in its jaws, a long spike at the striking end. The other a crappy looking assault rifle. Just because it looked like junk didn’t mean I wasn’t going to dive for cover. I slipped into the magic of SATS. The world slowed to a slow motion blur, giving me time to plan out my move. The spell was still charging so I only had enough for two shots. At this range I’d be lucky to get a clean kill. SATS only showed fifteen percent for the head, and thirty three for the body. Something about that number sat well with me. Oh yeah, it was the stable number on my collar. Picking a single shot to the chest each, I exited SATS. The world sped back up and two shots ripped out of my guns barrel. The first shot was wide, showering the sidewalk with debris. The second shot did only minimal damage. Still it was enough for the unicorn to wince in pain and drop the rifle. Magic was so unfair.

“You fucking cunt!” Nailboard screamed as he charged. I dove behind several old crates to avoid his charge. “I’m going to rip the…” KaBLAM. That’s enough of your colorful vocabulary. I took a few second to glance back on how everyone else was doing. Silver had taken cover behind some barrels and was taking potshots at anything that moved. Rust was huddled up next to him, a pistol clamped between her teeth, though I still hadn’t seen her fire it. And Static… single hoofedly she was picking off more raiders than all the rest of us combined. Still they kept coming at her and falling just as fast as she fired the rifle, reared up on her hooves, stock to her shoulder. Good ole’ fashioned marksponyship.

My attention was rudely ripped back to my predicament as a barrage of bullets cut into the barrier and sent splinters into the air over my head. “Fuck,” the unicorn was back up. Waiting for a break in his firing I popped up and aimed down on him. Pulling the trigger. CLICK. Oh not now, come on. Hesitating just a moment too long as a trio of bullets sped my way. One bounced off the chest plate. That shovel might have just saved my life. A second missed completely, but he third grazed my shoulder and just missed my wing.

“Come on fluffy. I just want to pluck yer pretty little wings.” The raider heckled as I ducked in time to miss another barrage. He was advancing quickly. I didn’t have time to reload but one shot, I couldn’t run, and any ponies who might help were a tad busy at the moment. “Come out and play you fucking dashite.” Okay, that wasn’t even a word. I fished a syringe of Med-X out of my bag and jabbed myself in the shoulder. I was only going to get one shot at this. Okay, shoulder, not the best idea. I put some pressure on the tender spot left by the bullet until the X kicked in. Whipping out my knife in my teeth I jumped up on the crates I was using for cover. “You’re mine now!” He started firing. But he was just a tad too low this time. Leaping into the air as the bullets whizzed under me. Passing above the unicorn I pulled a half roll and flip, landing directly behind and facing my adversary. Unfortunately for him he had to turn around. “That was… GACK.”

The blood tasted coppery as it spurted out of his neck onto my face. My knife buried to the hilt. The rifle clanged to the ground and I slammed my shotgun under his chin. “My wings.” KaBLAM! I didn’t bother to wipe the blood or gunpowder from my face as I started a full reload of my weapon. At this rate I gave us five minutes tops before one or more of us started dying. I need options. I need… that’s it! “Silver, Static, Rust! This way! Follow me!” Shouting above the sounds of battle around me. It was a long shot, but if it worked we could get away to relative safety.

Cutting down a dark alley, my three troopers filing in behind. Silver was covered in little nicks and near misses, Static was oozing some green stuff from a glancing blow to the head. Even Rust had blood on her hooves. Well okay, maybe she had been just trying to patch Silver up but still. If she was willing to hold a gun, I had to hope she would be willing to use it. Dodging groups of raiders, fighting when we had too and fleeing when necessary we made the eastern border of Ponyville just as the sky was begin to glow red through the clouds with the sunset. A dilapidated old building sat off by itself. The building didn’t seem to belong amidst the more rustic architecture of the rest of the town. Steel girders and rusty metal roof had been exposed to the elements. Still the sign on the front matched the tag on my PipBuck, ‘Manely Mechanical’.

“Okay, hurry around back, there’s an old cellar door, get inside. I’ll be a moment.” I split off and paused at the door. On second thought… hefting out the shotgun I reared up and shoulder slammed the door open. The two raiders inside were caught completely off guard as I turned them into red paste. As the second one fell I swear I saw a flicker of yellow on my EFS. Don’t think about it. Red is dead. Any last minute change of heart was still last minute. They’d probably stab me in the back anyway if I let them live.

Hopping over the sales counter I opened the cabinet below. The store had been stripped of anything remotely useful ages ago. But I wasn’t interested in that. What I wanted was underneath. Prying off a false backing to the cupboard to reveal a safe. Without hesitation I punched in the code and was rewarded with a soft click as the door swung ajar. Bits, some old pieces of equipment that would be useless now, and a key. I scooped up the bits and took the key. I hope these are at least worth something if not for sentimental value.

Back outside I was relieved to find the doors open to the cellar and proceeded down, closing them behind me. What surprised me was the light. Several old spark lanterns lit the grungy interior and cast dark shadows on the walls as my friends tended to their ailments. “Everypony still alive? Good.” Not waiting for an answer. “We’re almost safe just have to find the keyhole…” Muttering to myself as I proceeded to tap a hoof along the stones that formed the walls.

“Um… I don’t know about you but no place around here is safe.” Silver quipped as Rust wrapped bandages around his injuries. “Just what are you looking for?”

“For…” my hoof struck a hollow note and I pulled the loose stone from the wall, “this.” I stuck the key in the hole and gave a quarter turn to the right. A low rumbling soon filled the room as the far wall began to crumble. No not crumble. It was sliding apart to reveal a large metal door.

“Sweet mother of Luna! What is that?!” Static back peddled away.

“That, would be a door.” Walking up and flipping down a control panel, typing with my wingtips. A few taps and a beep later and the door hissed, beginning to open inward. “And this…” pushing the door open and stepping through. The two hundred year old air felt stale as I took a hearty breath. “Welcome to the Storeroom.”

“The Storeroom? Really, what kind of pony names a… oh wow.” Silver stammered for words as he stepped through behind me. The large stable-like room was filled to the ceiling with shelves. Crates rested peacefully where they had been placed two hundred or so odd years ago. “But... but... how’d you know this was here?”

“Pfft, easy. I had it built.”

“You what?!” All three sang in chorus.

“Okay, look before this gets anymore awkward.” Ushering everyone inside and closing the door. The low rumbling was muffled as the false wall moved back into place. “I had this place built under the shop in case things went south. With all the plots and scheming, not to mention there was war going on, you never knew if you’d be safe. So I built this for my family. Though… it doesn't look like it was ever opened since I sealed it.”

“You had a… you built… whatawhahuey??” I could have laughed at Silver then and there. The confused expression on his face combined with the numerous bandages and he would be well on his way to a zombie. “Family… You had a mare too huh.”

“Yes I did, and before you ask, no. I don’t want to talk about it. Ever.” I turned away and focused on pulling down a few crates. Popping the lid to one of the crates I pulled out some army rations. “Here, may taste like dirt but it’ll fill you up. Those crates over there have some water.” Pointing to a stack of crates with a small puddle under them. I hope some were at least still intact.

“This place is pretty neat.” Rust walked up from the far end of the shelf aisle. “You’ve got a kitchen, workshop and two bedrooms. Not quite Stable-Tec standards but still. What did you say this was built for again?”

Sighing I took a bite out of a ration. It tasted like ass. Ehh, I’ve had worse. Taking another bite before chewing and swallowing. “I worked in intelligence for a bit. You dig up enough dirt on anypony and they’d tend to put a price on your head. I had a few well-to-do ponies just wishing they could get their hooves on me. And not just because I was head of the Canterlot branch either. I hated the job, getting shot at was so much more exhilarating. Heck, if it wasn’t for being based in Canterlot I doubt I ever would’ve lasted at all.”

“You’re a special kind of crazy aren’t you?” Rust put a hoof to her forehead, shaking it from side to side.

“Well a stallions got to do something exciting every once in a while.” Nudging Silver with my shoulder. He didn’t get the hint and I just shrugged it off. “Still, I figured I could use this instead of getting crammed in with all those hoity-toity, no-good, high society ponies in Stable One.”

“Silver, tell him about Canterlot.” Rust sighed. By the look she gave me I could feel myself deflate.

“Fine, but I’m keeping it short and simple. I’m hungry.” He set aside his ration pack and cleared his throat. “Ahem, Canterlot, and Stable One was wiped out. End of story.”

“Wait, what? That can’t be, I saw it on the mountain when we were coming in to Ponyville.”

“Just because the Cities standing doesn’t mean nothing. Whole city got hit by pink cloud. The only thing left there now is ghouls. Every once in awhile you hear of a pony who travels up that way to loot the ruins. Ya never hear from them again.”

“Well shoot. I guess I’ll have to call in sick then.” Yeah, humor wasn’t exactly my forte. “Still, I really wish I could get back to my old office somehow. There are access codes to override all sorts of things.”

“If it hasn’t been broken into, or rotted away, most things worth finding won’t do you a heap of good.” Static hissed. She had wrapped up the oozing green slime on her forehead as soon as she had gotten her hooves on some bandages. Blood wasn’t normally green so I’m sure she wanted to avoid any questions. “That reminds me, care if we take a look at what’s in all these crates?” I shrugged. Even I didn’t know what was in half of these crates. She started popping open crates and looking inside. Silver and Rust left to do the same. Leaving the group to find what they could I walked through the door to the large master bedroom.

The bed sat in the middle of the room. Adorned on both sides with matching bed stands, an exquisitely carved headboard matched the dresser that sat against one wall. I hopped on the bed and tugged at the head board. Even secret locations had their secrets. Wow, heavier than I remember. “Hey somepony give me a hoof?” I hollered back. A short while later I could make out the distinct clicking of Statics braces as she trotted to the door. “Could you lend… sweet Celestia! Don’t drop that!” My terse reaction sent the small object falling out of her mouth. Impacting the floor at her hooves, tiny shards of purple crystal flew in every direction. A cackling explosion of magical energy as the device hit.

“Argh! What the? What kind of bullet is that?!” Static shouted, rearing back. At least she knew it was a bullet.

I waited for the shards to cease glowing, becoming a dull purple before I swept them into a pile with my wing. “Those are enchanted bullets.”

“No shit, Starswirl. I get that, but what kind of enchant was on that thing?”

“That WAS an anti-magic bullet.” Magically enchanted bullets aren’t all that special. They were developed during the later years of the war to give more of an edge to what had become ordinary weapons. Small crystals would be encased in the bullet to house the enchantment, or for more powerful applications, the entire bullet would be crafted out of crystal. Specially balanced to focus and amplify the spell contained within. These purple crystalline bullets were never introduced to the war. In fact I didn’t even know they had gotten past initial testing, much less found their way into The Storeroom. They weren’t so much anti-magic as they ignored the effect of it. Got magically enhanced armour? Now it’s a tin can. Magical shield or barrier? No problem. It didn’t matter what kind of spell or how strong you used, it would just pass through like nothing. They’d be little use against the zebras since they used magic only sparingly. The main idea behind it was in case things went south and Equestria needed a change in government. Yes, these bullets had been specially designed to pass right through the shields that protected the buildings of the Ministry Mares… even those cast by the Princess herself. Nothing personal, just covering our bases.

“Um, you in there?” A hoof knocked against my head several times. “Uh hello?”

“Just thinking.” I hope she wasn’t reading my thoughts. “So yeah, anti-magic. They ignore magic actually. Passes right through enhanced armour and shields.”

“Sweet. Anti-alicorn bullets.” My eyes went wide at her remark. “What? Those things toss up nasty shields if you don’t get the drop on them. Takes forever to beat down with normal firepower. Damn, they’ll never see this one coming. Who knew?”

“Yeah, great, glad you’re happy. Now can you lend me a hoof?” I hopped back on the bed and tugged the headboard out a little more from the wall. We’ll just leave the bullet conversation at that.

“I’m coming, don’t get your tail in a knot.” She hopped up beside me and grabbed the other side of the headboard. After several tugs the board popped free of the wall. Setting it down Static helped pull the reinforced crate from the recess. “So what’s in here? Some magic, blow up all your enemies super gun?”

“I wish. Just a few weapons I stashed away.” Flipping the clasps and setting the lid aside. The guns were covered in folded layers of cloth. Carefully I unwrapped the first one and help it up in the light. The silver glean on the polished metal, still slightly wet with gun oil and hardly looking a day off the assembly line. If it had ever been mass produced that is.

“Whoa… What kind of gun is that?”

“This, is the Armistice. She’s a dual caliber submachine gun. Fires either 9mm or 10mm if I swap out barrels.” I ran my hoof down the side from the silencer to the field scope. Every piece delicately tuned to unleash a silent and accurate deluge of death upon any unsuspecting zebras. “I had her custom built from an Ironshod 10mm SMG. Once I got my commission I retired her. Still.... she’s the best gun I’ve ever laid my hooves on.”

“Sure, but I bet you can’t pick targets of at range with that thing.” Static flipped the next wrap of fabric over in the crate. “OH wow... now THAT is what I’m talking about.” Lifting the long rifle out and attaching the removed barrel in her magic. “What’s this one named?”

“No name. It was my wife's rifle. She was a rather accomplished sharpshooter till she got picked up to work for the Ministry of Wartime Technology, the shop upstairs was hers.” I gently took it from her and set it down on the bed. It too dripped a little oil, a testament to good gun maintenance. “It’s a Range Equalizer Hunter Class rifle. A RE-9. Only a hoofful were ever produced until the company got bought out by Ironshod. Still, in her hooves… damn. She’d give even you a run for your bits.” I pulled the clip out. Sweet Celestia! It was loaded! Emptying the chamber, a purple tipped cartridge fell onto the mattress. I quickly checked the Armistice and was relieved to find it empty. “Here. You might like this…” I hefted out the next rifle. It was heavier and bulkier than the RE-9 but then again it was a heavier weapon.

Removing the cloth cover for Static she lifted it briefly in her magic, gave a startled expression and promptly dropped the rifle back into my hooves. “What the heck was that!” She glared as I simply smirked. I had almost forgotten about that part. “It… it... no. It couldn't.”

“Or could it? I’m guessing you’ve never seen anything like this before either?” She gave a slight nod and I continued. “Well neither had I till a close friend gave it to me. It’s well… a rather remarkable weapon. It’s called a Reaper. It was a predecessor to the Anti-machine rifle. This one’s chambered in .308 and like all Reapers magically enchants the bullet as it fires.” I checked to make sure it wasn’t loaded. The rifle itself was very dark, almost black, with a few gunmetal gray parts showing here and there under the oddly angular construction. An angular scope matched the rest of the rifle and adorned the top rail while a bipod was folded under the barrel just behind the suppressor. “Here, hold it.” Then I added, “don’t drop it.”

Hesitantly she took the gun in her hooves. Only the slightest odd sensation when she touched it. “Whoa, this feels… I don’t know. Right?” She raised it up and looked through the scope. “I can’t read what it's saying.” Magical glyphs and script highlighted objects in the scopes view. I never really liked that either. Though at least I could read it.

“Those are target profiles. They tell you things like threat level, where to shoot, targets overall condition.” I put my hoof on the barrel, forcing her to lower her aim and stop squinting through the scope. “I’m surprised you can’t read them. Have you tried just listening to them?” Yep, must never have crossed her mind as she gave me one of those are you out-of-your-mind looks. “Look I know it sounds weird but the rifle was designed for telepaths. The writing is from what you would call the Dark Nest.” I waved a hoof in her face till she responded, looking oddly at me, her mouth moving but nothing came out. “It’s a changeling rifle. Punches right through armour and leaves a nasty little acidic plasma courtesy of Changeling magic. She’s yours if you want her. I never was much for it. Too messy in my opinion.” I trailed off as I started rummaging through the crate once more.

I was suddenly interrupted when a set of hooves wrapped around me and gave a tight, okay a really tight hug. Gasping for air as the unicorn look-alike muttered words and click of thanks as fast as she could. Okay hard to breathe. My mind raced back to that first night. Or was it day? Awakening in the stasis pod, struggling for air in a desperate attempt to break free. Without thinking I began kicking out, trying to break free. My lungs seemed to scream for air and the chorus of pain and suffering I had been entombed with rose to match it. I felt my hoof connect with something solid and I pushed off, sending us both tumbling off the bed onto the floor. There was a sickening crunch as I landed on my side, Static on top. Her grip loosened and I spat out more in fear than frustration, “let go of me, I can’t breathe!” To her credit she scrambled off and sat rubbing her foreleg as she looked studiously at an interesting nothingness on the ground. I could barely hear her mutter sorry as I peeled myself off the floor. Some red sticky feathers being left behind.

“Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’ll go get Rust.” She darted out at the sight of blood. She returned with a pony pair close on her hooves moments later.

“Dear me, what happened?” Rust gave one look at the wing, another at the splotch of blood on the ground, and starting fishing about in a bag she had with her.

Shrugging, I pulled out a Med-X and stuck myself in the shoulder. Letting out a sigh as the pain dissipated. “I fell off the bed… landed funny.” Static seemed really grateful for me leaving out her involvement. She needed all the save-face with Silver and Rust she could get.

“Here, let me take a look.” Rust reached out and took my wing in her hooves before I could protest. There was a little pain even with the Med-X as she stretched it out. “I don’t know much about wings but I don’t think they’re supposed to be bent like that.” Pulling my wing out at almost full extension. I jerked back, the wing folding to my side.

“It healed up that way, it’s normal for me.”

“Okay, then other than that I’d say you just lost a few feathers and have some bruising. Nothing to worry yourself too much about.”

“Who’s worrying?” Turning my attention back to the crate. There were three more small bundles. A pair of 9mm pistols and a .357 revolver. “Here, take one, can’t have you running around up there without a way to defend yourself.” Silver and Static both took a pistol. Rust refused to carry a gun, said it was ‘against her principle’. Whatever that meant. Still, that left the revolver.

“You might as well leave that here. Ammos hard enough to come by and you hardly ever find revolver ammo.” Silver Apple rolled the gun over in his hooves. Setting it down and trying to wipe the gun oil off his hooves on the carpet.

Still, I couldn’t let a good gun go to waste so I tucked it away in my bag for safe keeping. Fashioning some straps out of scraps we had we made slings for the rifles. The Armistice and RE-9 joining the shotgun slung across my back. Static had the target rifle and Reaper slung on opposite sides, pistol tucked in an old utility shirt she found in the workroom. Where Silver managed to place his pistol I had no idea. Together we split roughly a month's worth of army rations between us. We shouldn’t be on the road that long but then again we did have a knack for taking the long way around. There were several ammo boxes as well. Plenty for everypony to top off with more to spare. I grabbed every anti-magic bullet in .308 I could lay my hooves on. Still there was more than I could carry so I stashed some in the bedroom crate along with some other ammunition and re-hid the crate in case we ever came back. No sooner had Silver helped me replace the headboard when a loud clanging sound echoed through the chamber. Only one problem. We were all in the bedroom and the sound was from the front door.

“What. Was. That?” Silver Apple took a step back from the door as the tapping resumed.

“I think the raiders found us already. We need to go now!” Scooping up supplies we had sorted and dumped them haphazardly into my bag, letting the sorting spell do its thing. In under a minute everypony was geared up and ready to go. The tapping was intermittent and really sounded like somepony knocking. Though this was one door I wasn’t going to open for them. “Alright, everyone follow me, there’s a back door.”

“Um, if there’s a back door why didn’t we come in that way in the first place?” Rust adjusted her bag across her back. If we had more time maybe we could have found more medical supplies. As it were we still only had one potion and plenty of Med-X (which I kept to myself).

“It only opens from this side… and I don’t remember where it comes out…” I started shoving crates out of the way to reveal a small hatch in the wall. It was dark under the shelving so I turned on my PipBuck light, bathing the walls with a warm purple glow. “Okay, stick close and be quiet.” Disappearing into the hatch. I could feel the hot breath of one of the gang on my back. “Not that close.”

“Sorry,” Silver whispered backing off a little. One pony, check. The rattle of Rusty Needles bags, two.

“Static, close the door behind us.” She let out some happy clicking as the hatch sealed behind us. At least somepony was happy to be in a cramped underground tunnel. We were only down there for roughly ten minutes. That was ten minutes too long. The dark, damp, crowded space was messing with my mind. Images of Stable 33, radroaches and more. I tried to bury them with whatever thoughts I could but I couldn’t stay focused on them. A moaning chorus echoed in my ears, would I never be free from this nightmare? I could see their faces in my mind's eye. Those scared, standing with me in the stable when the door closed. Those whose looks of fear as we fled the balefire were burned into my memory. And others joined with them. The crass cry of the slaver mare before I silenced her stood out for a moment before it was drowned in the incessant wailing. Goddesses I was messed up. Two hundred years of sleep and it had to plagued by all those I couldn’t save. Just shoot me now.

‘Why would we do that? Without you we’d still be stuck in with those slavers. Or worse…’

‘I don’t care… and get out of my head.’

‘Sorry, it’s just your thoughts are kind of all over the place it’s hard not to notice.’

“Get. OUT!” I bellowed. “Just because my mind’s a mess doesn’t mean I want you in there reading it!” Huffing I pushed ahead a little further and stopped when I walked right into a ladder. ‘Ow, stupid frickin ladder’.

I started climbing and was rewarded momentarily when after pushing the ponyhole aside I could step into the cool open air of the surface. Silver and Rust followed closely and Static wasn’t too far behind them. “Well sorry if it bothered you so much. You were just so easy to read down there.” She grumbled as I put the cover back over the shaft.

“I don’t care. Stay out of my head. Why don’t you try reading somepony else's. I’m sure it's better than the crap in mine.”

“I did try Silver. No offense…” The stallion looked shocked and Rust just raised an eyebrow. “He’s thinks about mares WAY too much.” That got him to blush and Rust just chuckled, knocking him upside the head with her hoof. “Plus I like you when you're agitated. You get so poofy.”

“I do not get poof...” Oh yeah, right. Spoke too soon. My feathers were definitely fluffed up in a feeble attempt to appear bigger than my already small frame allowed. Not fair Static. She let out a muffled giggle and covered her mouth with her hoof as it was my turn to blush. Wings were a dead giveaway. They always seemed to have a mind of their own at times like this. I mean it’s not like unicorns started spouting magic or get a stiff horn when… oh goddesses. I felt myself turn redder as I buried the mental image that had popped up. *POMF* “Ah, crap.” My wings sprang up vertically into the air and Static couldn’t help it as she flopped onto her back, laughing.

“Five caps, pay up.” Static demanded of Rust once she had regained some composure. The other mare reluctantly fished out the hoofful of bottle caps and forked it over. “Told you I could get him to do it.”

“Hey! Not funny!” I growled as I stomped away. My wings swayed like battered banners in the night breeze.

“Pfft, and a dragons my uncle.” Rust chimed in, stifling a snicker better than Silver was trying to. Seriously? This was not a good time. “Pegasi are just so fun that way.”

“Ugh, just drop it already. Let’s go before some raiders find us from all your laughing.” Huffing off into the dark. As an afterthought I turned off the PipBuck light and the rest of the group filed in behind as we started to skirt our way around what was left of Ponyville. Through it all none of us noticed the dimly glowing glint from a pair of eyes watching us. The cross eyed gaze waited until we had left then made a quick dash for the ponyhole and, taking one last look around to make sure it was safe, disappeared inside.

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Footnote: Level Up.
New Perk: Toughness- +10% DR permanently