Chapter 21: The Bridge

((Special thanks to Adder1 for editing this messy pile of words to the point of mediocrity.))

When Dawn finally came back around, the Figure was sitting there patiently waiting for her, a small smoke trail rising from an invisible cigarette. Only the aggravated embers shone as he sucked on it, a small cloud developing overhead.

“Miss Black Dawn, we must continue. Time is of the essence,” he said in a serious, business like tone. It felt more and more like  he was urging her to show her money before browsing some shoddy goods at a ridiculous price.

Dawn groaned, her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the hot, stinking smoke stinging at them. Her stomach begged and lashed out at her for food. She had no idea how long it's been since her last meal; time was non-existent here. It was just blackness, a secluded alcove from the stream of time they could settle in.

“Fine, fine,” she complied, waving her hoof at him in dismissal as she clutched at her forehead, coming slowly to life. She sucked in some air, refueling. Her body instantly denied the respite as she choked on the smoke filling the small room.

“Do you have to smoke in here?” she asked in a slightly hoarse voice.

“Yes. Now please, what happened after where you stopped? As I recall, your group had been around a fire and Worthy had been retelling his prison days.”

“Oh yeah, well there was some idle chit-chat and what not,” she said, making small circles with her hoof, her eyes straying to the invisible ceiling. “We talked for a while and junk,” she shrugged, “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

The Figure sighed, knowing her short attention span may have cost him some critical information. “So when did you pay attention?” he asked condescendingly, blowing a smoke plume into her face.

Dawn coughed as the smoke flooded into her eyes and nostrils, causing her to wince and hack weakly. She rubbed her face, annoyed. “I was woken up in the middle of the night asshole,” she snapped back.

“Do tell.”

“Well, we just settled for the night. The plan the next day was to hit the bridge and I heard something about ponies from Phoenix. I dunno; I wasn’t really listening,” she rambled onwards,  “I didn’t really know what ‘The Bridge’ was either, and then for some reason Worthy left saying something about scouting I think and then-” The Figure rose a brown hoof with five black, metal digits to halt her.

“Enough; that all means little without details. Can we please cut to the fucking chase? I asked ‘when did you pay attention’ and you said ‘when you were woken up’. Now cut to the waking up!” he ordered, puffing smoke from both nostrils, the cigarette quickly burning out.

Dawn got comfortable giving him a scowl. “Fine then,” she retorted in vexation.

“It was I dunno, a few hours before first light. Everyone else was down for the night, myself included.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Dawn was in a light snooze, her mind too active to allow her to sleep soundly, a perpetual niggling and tingling inside her skull to jab her away from the chalice of deep, nerve dulling sleep.

The sounds of the world around her seeping into her inner brain, echoing and watered down noises that passed through her ears into the far recesses of her consciousness. The noises vibrated and bounced, wall to wall, ricocheting inside her head gradually gathering momentum and volume, stirring her senses.

Her eyes finally cracked open, the noise level resumed to its normal volume, her blurred sight line slowly came into focus as her eyes adjusted to the weak light. Only the smouldering, crackling embers of the fire giving her any visibility at all.

Her head slowly craned to what woke her, snuggled in the sleeping bag that was donated to her. It was Rico, mixing and shaking compounds and supplements from the briefcase in shakers and beakers, heating one with a lighter. Dawn watched with avid curiosity at the strange experiment he was performing.

Rico mixed and whirled the various containers about, dumping colourless goo into one, shaking it about then suddenly pouring green crystals into another, swapping them constantly over the small blue flame he had going.

After moments of quick smooth movements in a calculated and learned rhythm, Rico was done. He had a small glass jar of  bioluminescent green crystals as a final product. he inspected them through the glass, his red eyes riveted on every curve and contour on them. Thoroughly scanning them, Dawn watched him in interest.

Rico sighed in content.  Placing the jar next to him, he sat staring aimlessly into the dying fire before his eyes crossed over Dawn, his expression stayed the same, unreadable. He stared at her, she stared back. Moments passed, both exchanging blinks.

Rico finally got up on his tippy hooves and gingerly pranced over to her, scooching in low and close. “Ello, ‘ello, ‘ello,” he greeted her in a low hushed voice.

“Uh, hi,” Dawn responded, wide awake.

“So uh, were you watching me make those crystals there?” he said gesturing to the glowing jar.

Dawn just nodded. He didn’t seem all too concerned, so why lie?

“Know what it is?” he asked he asked with a sly grin.

Dawn shook her head.

Rico swallowed and quietly cleared his throat. “It’s commonly known as Bruiser, or Death’s Lantern depending on where you are,” he began in a very ‘manner of factly’ tone. “If you want a pony to fight joyously till they die, that's what you give em. Usually they live riding the psychotic thrill waves.” He laughed quietly, Dawn listening intently.

“Oddly enough, it’s in a sense how me and Trouble over there met,” he said pointing to the large, sleeping stallion mumbling to himself with his back to the fire. “Would you like to hear the story?” He asked, the tall stallion smiling down at her. Dawn could only give one answer.

“Sure.”

“It was six years ago. I was twenty and already a fucking rocking chemist. I was the Mintage around Phoenix. I was independent too- I didn’t sling product on someone’s account.” Rico started making gestures with his hooves that Dawn didn’t quite get.

“Wait, you were a chemist? Like a doctor?” she asked halting the stallion.

Rico found this amusing. “Drug dealer.” He grinned.

“Oh,” Dawn replied as if it were a surprise.

“Sure, I was making caps, but I was on the Prodigies’ turf. They didn’t take kindly to that. Me and my crew were out slinging one day when they jumped us. I don’t mean bats, knives and bricks- I mean automatic rifles,” he snorted.

“And as it turns out, Trouble was around. He just helped the losing side. Mowed them down,” he whistled waving his hoof across the both of them as he rubbed shoulders with Dawn, their backs placed against the Rap Mobile.

“By that stage, I was the only fucker left standing. My crew was dead and we had like, maybe two minutes before all hell splashed our assholes with hot lead.” Dawn gave a soft laugh to that.

“We had only one real option: to take my strongest drug -in this case Bruiser- and berserk our way through them. Insane, but feasible.”

Rico straightened himself to continue. “You see, Dawn, Bruiser is the wildest ride of a damn narcotic I know. There is no such thing as a good trip on Bruiser. It’s just blind adrenaline and fear washed down with a bucket of nails and chaos.”

“Then why take it?” Dawn asked, the damn thing sounded straight out of some pony’s nightmare or maybe from a Night Mare. It’s blood or something. Brain juice perhaps.

“Cuz, it’s the best thing ever if you wanna fight. Just raw blood drive. Your reflexes are razor sharp, pain just evaporates, you hit harder, move faster, and it feels like you're floating, but the shit going on inside your head,” he chuckled. “It’s some real heavy stuff.”

“How is it, um, taken?” she timidly asked eying the crystals.

“You can either chew the crystals- tastes like ass- or you can grind em up finely and snort it.” It vaguely reminded Dawn of that ‘Demon’ stuff Rico took earlier.

“So we took the Bruiser, one hit each, and charged through the damn city back to Boot Boy turf. It was bloody and messy, and unforgettable,” he sighed. “I’m keeping it vague. The shit was crazy. Ask me for the full story another time.” He mumbled out.

“Why not now?” she asked, a little let down that he started but didn’t bother to finish.

“Another time. I got a question for you,” Rico said turning to look Dawn in the eyes.

“Uh, sure,” she said unsure of herself. Personal questions made her a little anxious.

“You’re sixteen, right? When and who was your first kill, and with what?” he asked her in a serious tone. Dawn was caught completely off-guard. She hadn’t expected that. She was expecting something mundane, not so morbid.

“Uhh...” She droned out thinking. “Not long ago, when I uh, met Trouble.” She stopped to swallow thinking back. “It was a raider, and uh, it was with a, eh, pair of pistols,” she answered, the events replaying in her head.

“You still have the pistols?” Rico asked her, Dawn began to wonder if he was going anywhere with this.

Dawn shook her head.

“My first kill was at sixteen too.” He smirked at her. “I still have the knife,” he said patting himself down. A moment of rummaging later he took out a small talon-like knife, curved and short- a weapon clearly designed for slashing and concealing.

“Any coward can use a gun. Any bitch can detonate a bomb. Only a real killer can stab a pony till they die, watching the life drain from their eyes.” He eyed the blade, spinning it on his hoof. “My father told me that on the day of my sixteenth birthday, he would let me pick the knife and he told me to go and kill a pony who spoke shit about our family,” Rico sighed.

“I-I’m sorry.” Dawn managed to murmur out. “Sounds awful.” She added.

Rico laughed at her sympathy, “Nah, it’s tradition in my family. All my cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews went through it. You gotta prove yourself to the family.”

“Huh?” Dawn cocked her head in bewilderment.

Rico smiled at her. “Oh, I come from a very ‘interesting’ family.”

“What do you mean?” Dawn furrowed her brow. Rico’s smile broadened. He got up onto his hooves and tousled her mane. “Get some sleep Dawn.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Night,” she said, resting her head again. She slipped back into her middle ground of not quite awake but not asleep neither, waiting for whatever warzone awaited her the next day.

_____________________________________________________________________

“Before you go on a rant, we know all about Ricochet’s dirty little crook family and their businesses, slaves, drugs, whores and anything else under the sun that’s got dirt on it,” the Figure spat.

“I dunno,” Dawn shrugged, “his needles were pretty clean.” She laughed.

The Figure snorted. “I like that,” he remarked. “I’ll steal that for later. Now get a move on.” He waved his cigarette wielding-hoof in circles creating a smoke ring.

“Sure, sure. We got up, and I had a small chat with Worthy,” she sighed. “He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.”

_____________________________________________________________________

They were all up and about. Everypony seemed to have a task with the exception of Dawn. Trouble and Rico were joking and laughing and speaking to a pony over the radio. Night Light had decided to hold onto the M60, keeping her Valkyrie on her back. She took a small belt filled with those canisters she toyed with back in the penthouse. Gas grenades, if Dawn remembered correctly.

And Worthy, Worthy had stolen her from the group to have a few ‘words’ with her. Every day that passed it seemed the further she drifted from Trouble. There was just too many of them to have true one-on-one time.

“OK, listen up Dawn,” he started, his beautiful bolt-action rifle out of its scaffolding. He slowly loaded chrome-coated bullets into it. It seemed he wasn't the only one in his family with a thing for colouring cartridges.

Dawn snapped to attention, she was busy... Wasting time, his mask was off, his one eye looking lazily over his rifle as he puffed on a cigarette. “We’re up against the regular ramble, not those juggernauts you had to contend with,” he said, sliding the bolt back into place. He stopped to face her.

“These guys are just peasants with guns hoofed to them and given a bit of cloth to cover their backs and mind-fucking drugs,” he spat.

“Huh?” Dawn asked in bewilderment. Half the stuff he was saying going right over her head.

“There is a class system in Germaney, or there is now. Basically high-born fuckers are given the best shit, regardless if they’re fucking idiots or cowards. And you saw how they fight- in a fucking line! That passes over to the lower classes, who usually have just rifles and pistols. But they got raw numbers, plus they’re producing their own firearms, if only a little.” He stopped to wipe his nose.

“Gabriel is a good speaker and is good with fear. How he came to power is one hell of a fucking story.”

“How’d he do it?” Dawn interjected.

“Meh,” he said, waving a hoof at her, “I’ll tell you another day Dawn. It’s going to be a long night. If I get my way you’ll be on sniper detail.”

“Why, what’s going on ‘exactly’?” she asked. Nothing really made sense.

“Like we said, we’re helping in the effort to take The Bridge. The Bridge is all that links Germaney to the mainland, at least without a long ass detour. It’s going to be critical.”

“What will like, happen?” she struggled to ask, cocking her head.

“Trouble told me you got that scar there from mortar fire,” he said gesturing to the long spiraling scar on her forehoof. “They’re probably going to try and block us at a fixed point, flood us with troops and then pop some flares, and blow the shit out of us with mortars.”

Dawn was speechless, but Worthy anticipated her next question. “And we can’t blow it, we just can’t. There ain’t enough fucking explosives in Marizona. It’s a three-mile-long steel engineering wonder. It survived an apocalypse, so it can take some Coltic scum bags like me and my brother.”

Dawn exhaled slowly. “Ok... anything else?” she asked, hopeful of something a little less dire.

“The plan is fairly straightforward. We help with the main push as Trouble goes in from the water. I said I should be the one to go, but he insisted I stayed... because he’s a stubborn jackass- I ain’t gonna lie- we could be fighting for days straight. Every inch of ground is going to be a marathon through hell,” he snorted, puffing two jets of smoke out his nostrils.

“I’ll be giving a proper rundown on their unit composition and gear specs at the rendezvous point,” he said resting his elbow on the car.

“What’s a rendezvous?” Dawn asked raising an eyebrow.

“Meetup,” he retorted instantly.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, we’re leaving the car. We don’t want it getting blown to hell. We’re hoofing a lot of guns over to these rent-a-kills we’re attacking with.” He stopped to sigh out a relaxing jet of of smoke.

“You’re from the NCR right?” Worthy asked on an entirely unrelated note.

“Uh, yeah, I guess I am,” she answered a little unsure of her own words.

“That’s West coast. Germaney is East. You just crossed the breadth of the land mass.” He smirked.

Wow.

Dawn... wasn’t entirely sure what to think of that. She was a little astounded to be honest. She never saw the coast, but she always thought Equestria to be... bigger. So all she did was blink a few times, waiting for Worthy to continue.

“Whereabouts in NCR you from exactly?” he asked.

“Uhh, a place called Dry Town,” she answered scratching the back of her mane.

“I know the place. It’s a fucking hell hole.” He spat on the ground. “No offense,” he added.

“Oh, none taken. It is like you said ‘a fucking hell hole’. I fucking hated it,” she quickly replied to him.

Worthy snorted, “No school, no clinic, no nothing. They just needed a place to put up their fucking wall. You ever been to the Capital, like, Chicacolt?”

Dawn blinked. She knew nothing of NCR Geography. “Uh, no, never left Dry Town.”

“It’s nice. Coltsboro is nicer, that is, if you can avoid the packed, overcrowded ghettos,” Worthy said, extinguishing his cigarette on the side of the car, leaving a black smudge on the paint.

A lot of this was going right over Dawn’s head. “What’s a ghetto?” she asked next, feeling a little foolish.

Worthy again answered without pause, “An alarmingly impoverished and deprived town or area. Dry Town is a ghetto. More of a slum really.”

Okay No.2 for her next question. “What is Coltsboro?” she asked.

“Spectacular. It’s essentially run by Rico’s cousins. Real proud motherfuckers. His cousins are ‘made’,” he said making sure to mouth out the ‘made’.

“What do you mean by made?” she asked, furrowing her brow.

Worthy didn’t even so much as sigh .“They run a very successful business and are rather wealthy. My brother has money. Most of it he’s never seen, but they got serious caps. Rico is too proud to admit it, but his family branch has failed.”

Worthy’s eye trailed over to Rico as did Dawns’, the tall stallion laughing uncontrollably along with  a sniggering Trouble.

“His mother is living in Prance now,” he sighed, looking back at Dawn. “Interesting bunch. You know how many ponies were in me and Trouble’s family?” he asked, testing her. Dawn just shook her head, his voice keeping her silent. “There was forty-six of us at one stage, now there is three confirmed as alive.” He broke eye contact to stare over the desert. “Maybe a fourth,” he mumbled.

“There is me, Trouble and his mother. And she’s retired,” he snorted. “Funny to think there would be at least one of us to die of old age.”

“Why is that?” Dawn peeped up. It’s a horrible thought to think everyone out here was doomed to die a grotesque and degrading death.

Worthy was snapped out of a slight trance as if he all this time were just thinking aloud. “We were raised to be able to achieve more than an entire company of troops by ourselves. Sounds impossible. Usually is. That's why the creativity, bullets, chemicals, planning, and the best of us get insane money...  and since most of us are now dead that just means less marginals for Trouble.” He looked back over the desert.

“What, why, your family, I mean,” she stammered out, confused. “Why?” She finally reasoned was the best word for it.

“It’s... a fucking long story,” he chuckled, “dating back to the Great War.” He gave a slight grin. Dawn had to admit she was warming up to the stallion. He didn’t seem so chilling anymore. In fact, he had stated over and over he wanted to help her, if not directly. Maybe directly- she just had difficulty trusting him.

“Great War?” she asked baffled. She heard the NCR was in a big one at one time before she was born.

Worthy straightened up and waved his hoof across the air. “Look around, a vast sea of desolation, destruction and despair with the bones of an old, broken world left in its wake.” He always had a way with words.

“Uh, K then. ‘How’ did it happen?” she said, entirely unphased. To her this was just the world as it was, it’s hard to miss something you never had.

“Big bombs- no, the biggest bombs. Balefire they called it. Just threw them at each other like rival school children with rocks. Fucking idiots,” he grumbled.

Trouble spoke up, “Saddle up! We’re movin’ out,” he proclaimed turning the key to the ignition, the Rap Mobile hacking up weakly before being prodded into a deep defiant rumble.

Worthy climbed into the back, assuming his position on the large turret with the bullet-cracked shielding. Dawn sighed and climbed in after him, a slight sense of dread creeping down her spine.

_____________________________________________________________________

They drove on and on. The closer they came to their destination the more ruined buildings and pillaged land they encountered. Ash covered patches of the waste and smouldering ruins of already ruined buildings.

Dawn was offered another tape from Worthy, which she declined for now. The last thing she wanted right now was to be set even more on edge than need be. She was expecting any moment a trail of corpses, but she suspected it wasn’t just crops they turned to ash.

They drove on and on, Dawn in a world of her own until finally Night Light spoke up, “So that’s what it looks like, huh?” she droned in a disgusted tone.

Dawn’s ears perked up as her tiny mental world collapsed. Roused she looked up and around then finally behind herself where Night Light was gazing with a disgruntled expression. Dawn’s eye twitched at the spectacle. She hunched over as her stomach churned.

It was an endless sea of fermenting brown and khaki sludge. The salty, musky stench struck her nostrils. It reminded her of death. She looked over it, the endless eternity of it. Her heart sank in her chest and her ears fell, deflating her entirely.

“That’s the glorious Germane sea for ya!” Trouble cried out enthusiastically.

Dawn was transfixed by it. Uglier than any corpse, more deflating than a shotgun blast to a balloon and more saddening than a sixteen-year-old mare being carted off to war with a band of misfits and given a ragged, old mercenary that was closest thing she ever had to a father as a guide.

She scanned to the left. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as the pungent ocean breeze dried her mouth. Their goal.

Even in the distance it was colossal- The Bridge, ‘THE’ Bridge. It stood high and proud. The thick bulging supports rose from the sick sea to hold the large standing road. Tall pillars rose with suspension tendrils gripping it all up from the support pillars, the metal rusted and tarnished by time but standing firm. The most complete engineering work of art left behind from the Old World.

Smoke columns rose from random sections of the bridge, turning the cloud cover above a darkish grey as the cloud mixed with the dark smoke.

“There it is.” Worthy smiled at Dawn getting off the turret to sit next to her. “Death’s obstacle course,” he snorted.

They drew closer and closer. In the far off distance high dust clouds were visible from conjoining roads. “Look.” Worthy pointed at the rising dust. “That’s our support, or rather, we’re their support.

“From what I’ve gathered, we’ve got five squads not including us joining in with us. One crew whose leader is a guy named Bull Dozer- I heard he’s bigger than my brother- another squad belongs to this lunatic named Shell Shock, he sent his ‘Sick Squad’ to help, and along with that we got an elite squad from all three of the Phoenix factions: Prodigies, Boot Boys and the Mob.” Worthy quickly summarized. Night Light listened in too.

“A lot of familiar names in there Worthy,” she idly remarked.

“Know any of them?” Worthy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Shell Shock, that motherfucker, gave the rangers more grief than I care to recall. Never heard of this Bull Dozer guy and everyone knows the families.”

“Factions.” Worthy corrected her. “They ain’t families.”

“Sure, whatever. As I was going to say -- those guys in the so-called ‘Sick Squad’ are a bunch of bona fide raiders, complete with numerous rapes and pillages under their belt and every one of them has taken part in a certified mass murder,” she chirped with feigned enthusiasm.

“Then we’re in good company!” Rico piped up a wide grin plastered on his face.

“As for this Bull Dozer guy, I dunno about him.” Night Light shrugged.

The air seemed thicker now to Dawn. She couldn’t explain it, but she could feel the world compacting and shrinking. Compressing her thoughts as they grinded to a halt regardless, there was a tingling sensation in her tummy. None of this felt ‘right’ to her.

When was it ever right?

Everypony resigned to silence. There was an eerie, out-of-place silence for this place. The only thing that could be heard was the perpetual rumbling of the engine and the soft, sucking, bubbly, sound of the sludge waves rubbing and retreating off the beach they drove alongside. They kept away from the putrid marshy sand, condemned to have that nauseating frothy liquid washed over it for all eternity.

It felt like there should have been more. All of it just seemed like a build up, just stacking and stacking waiting all to be released in a mighty wind that would blow them all away. And nopony even spoke about it.

Only thought.

Black clouds formed overhead, casting an ominous shade of grey light around them, a foreboding omen.

And all they could do with all the power in them was just think.

Dawn had a lot of thinking to do. Her thoughts varied from ‘Why was the sea so wrong?’ to ‘I think it’s going to rain’ and the ever green ‘You know, maybe I’ll just hide.’ Worthy noticed her angsty behaviour. She was staring aimlessly at The Bridge, her eyes unmoving as they drew closer and closer, the imposing structure becoming larger and larger.

A little Jet would go a long way here.

Worthy nudged her with his hoof. Her neck snapped around to meet him in alarm. The creepy mask was back on his face. Joy. The bloodchiller pointed ahead of the car. Dawn turned to look, peeking up.

Ahead of them stood a band of vastly varying ponies, ranging from black, gothic-styled armor like Rico’s to thick, stocky combat armour (kind of like Trouble’s) to a few smaller ponies clad in leather armour that bore resemblance to Dawn, only shabby in comparison.

Trouble slowed, causing the car to jerk, sending lances into Dawn’s stomach. It was nothing short of a miracle she kept her food down- must just be a thing you adapt to.

The Rap Mobile drew to a halt, the ponies awaiting them scanning it, looking over the various crushed metal clumps lodged in the armour. Trouble gripped The Red Queen, resting it on his shoulder as he stood high onto his hind hooves. He dismounted the vehicle, dropping to the ground.

Worthy sighed through his mask and hopped off the back cover panel onto the asphalt beneath, his cloak whipping behind him on the vault. Silently, he jerked out the hidden stock railings. He caught Dawn staring at him and gave her a gesture of the head to Trouble, doing his most over-the-top eye roll behind the mask so she knew exactly what he was doing. Dawn couldn’t help but think that as a cyclops behind a mask, that was a bit redundant.

She rolled her own eyes in retaliation before looking to Trouble. Shit. Him and Rico were already joined in the large congregation of ponies awaiting a leader to step up for words. Night Light got up from her seat with a grunt, hefting the M60. “C’mon Dawn, time to make some friends.” Night Light vaulted over the side cover, landing gracefully below, her hooves splashing up a small dust cloud.

Dawn took in a rustling breath. She hated crowds of ponies. The thought of mingling or even exclusion terrified her. She exhaled slowly. With a small grunt she vaulted over her side cover panel.

Awh fuck. She left her shotgun behind. No matter. She took a deep breath, the air puffing out her cheeks as she took baby steps forward. She didn’t want to look like a fool in front of these ponies. Everyone of them had a fiercer demeanour and even carried themselves better than this timid out-of-place mare.

Night Light recognized faces, none of them benevolent agents for pony kind. Shell Shock’s ponies stood out, all clad in their desert camouflage combat armour. All of em carried a big automatic weapon of one kind or another as well as an oversized machete or axe at the hip.

There was half a dozen of those guys packed in a rusted, poorly-armoured jeep- no turret, not even an engine cover. Now they were loitering about, big grins plastered on all their ragged, ravenous faces, hungry for a little anguish.

Night Light sized them up. Nothing she couldn’t handle. She scanned the other crew that arrived by jeep. This Bull Dozer, he came with nine others. They looked a lot more ‘clean cut’ in her opinion- a lot fitter and more professional for the job, tactical shotguns, advanced assault rifles and carbines and one with...

No. Bucking. Way. Night Light’s left eye twitched once. Her mouth slowly fell open in disbelief as she blinked furiously.

Her eyes were locked on one stallion in the entire group, standing idly by their jeep.

He was young, early twenties or so, a unicorn. The top of his horn was chipped off, leaving a jagged spike rising from his skull. He had a charcoal coat and frosted, spiked-up mane. He wore a milky-coloured, thick armour vest with a tan jacket over it and dome-like shoulder pads over the jacket. On his back was a long tube with a scope mounted on it. He carried a Valkyrie as his primary weapon, identical to Night Light’s.

The stallion kept to himself, while the others conversed he rested against the car, head ducked low. Night Light cringed a little when she seen what had happened to his face.

What have they done to you?

The entire right side of his face was a pasty white, the skin droopy and wrinkled, melted. His right eye was discoloured, the pupil turned milky. The supposed white of his eye was black, like looking into a puddle of murky water.

The corner of his mouth had no lip, just two strips of flesh meeting, uneven. Night Light suspected what had happened- the flames welded them together and- if this was the stallion she knew- he didn’t hesitate to split them apart. Night Light averted her eyes and ducked her head low, hiding behind the brim of her hat. This could wait.

Trouble and Rico met with three ponies in the middle ground between the factions. The three squads from Phoenix had one representative dressed in light, black armour wielding a hefty assault rifle with a grenade launcher mounted under the barrel. On the pony’s head was a very peculiar mask with two tubes running into a mouthpiece with glowing yellow dots for eyes.

The first over to them was a huge stallion, dressed in a composite metal armour that enhanced his size, a tactical shotgun on his back. He was an earth pony with a blue coat and tight cut black mane in head-to-hoof armour plating. He was wider than Trouble and taller than Rico. “Family huh?” he asked in a gruff voice, wiping his nose.

“You’d be your fella, Bull Dozer, ah?” Trouble asked nonchalantly.

“Yep.” Bull Dozer confirmed with a nod looking over the Rap Mobile. “You meet some trouble on the way in? No pun intended.” He added the last bit raising a large hoof that could easily cover Dawn’s entire face.

“Grosavics, still gunnin’ for me!” Trouble chirped with a smirk.

The bigger-est stallion gave a small chuckle and a grin. The representative of the Phoenix factions arrived at their lil’ congregation. The pony pulled off the thick helmet exposing a middle-aged earth pony mare. She had a green coat and a tight, violet mane coming into a ponytail running down her back. She had small dark bags under her angry eyes, her face in a permanent frown.

She spoke up in a strange accent. “Pryvet.” She nodded to Trouble. “I’m Cigaro and these are my suka,” she said gesturing to the collection of ponies clad in combat armour, packing a little light. “You must be de Trouble my soup-eriors informed me of. We have secured a boat for you and we can all but guren-tee your infiltration.”

“You a Stalliongrad Stalker or something?” Rico asked raising an eyebrow.

“Eeks-Stalker. Now I’m running these bitches for better paying bitches,” she snorted.

“Speed Ball! Get your stoo-pid ass over here!” she cried over to Shell Shock’s ‘Sick Squad’. All their laughter and chit chat ceased as the entire group glared daggers at Cigaro. She just turned to stare back.

Night Light and Dawn hung back, waiting at the front of the car for Rico and Trouble to do whatever it is they were going to do, listening in instead. Night Light hung her head low, covering her face with the brim of her hat. Dawn did her best to mimic her. Remembering those pilot shades she found in Pegas, she put them on and looked down at the asphalt beneath, occasionally glancing up at the proceedings. She felt foolish. If it wasn't for her black coat, everyone would've spotted the light burning in her cheeks.

A muscular, well-toned, orange unicorn stallion approached the group from the Sick Squad. He had a dark red mullet and was carrying a large machine gun on his back- nothing compared to the M60 Night Light was carrying.

“So, so, so, so guys, these are the guys me and my guys and the guys over there are waiting on? And those guys are gonna get a taste of these guys when our guys and hitting their guys. Sound about right, guy?” The stallion who was assumed to be Speed Ball stammered in a jumpy excited voice.

“Does,” Trouble plainly answered with a nod.

“Trouble, my sukas need de firepower you promised us. I was told you are a stallion of your word,” Cigaro said, her words coming more like hisses and purrs.

“Around the back. My brother will sort yer bitches out.”

“Beeches! Report to de rear of their Automobile!” she howled over to the ponies from the factions. They broke into hushed conversation as they passed Dawn. She couldn’t tell if they were scared of Cigaro or loyal to her. She seemed like a bit of a bitch.

“We ‘ave some intel- former boy on the inside, me brother.” Trouble added to the group. Speed Ball seemed disinterested, paying more attention to scratching his nethers through armour than to the conversation.

“Go on.” Cigaro made small circles with her hoof to prompt him to continue.

“Worthy!” Trouble yelled out behind him. A moment later the cold figure appeared, still wearing his vindictive mask.

“He’s got their unit composition, unit specs, crew sizes, playbooks,” Trouble said turning to his brother to allow him to proceed.

Worthy looked around the leaders conference. “Best wait. Assemble everyone. I’ll address them then,” he coolly stated.

When Night Light could, she glimpsed over at the stallion. She had to be sure it was him.

Trouble spoke next to the group. “ ‘Ere lads, it’s fucking night fall in the next few hours. I say briefing at dusk, we all chip in what we know and what we’re at. Now where is the pegasus?”

Cigaro groaned, “That pussy! We gave him the biggest gun we could fucking think of giving a pegasus like him, and he’s fucking terrified of coming out during the day. He’ll be showing up tonight in the skies.”

Trouble and Rico looked to each other before Trouble sighed. “Gather everyone roun’, we’ll have a wee show’n’tell.”

_____________________________________________________________________

“Roughly how many ponies were there, including yourselves?” The Figure asked, his cigarette snubbed on the table, leaving a small black stain on the pale metal.

“I’d say around three dozen.” Dawn nodded with a fair amount of confidence. She didn’t count, but that seemed about right.

“Three dozen ponies to push into The Bridge? Sounds likes suicide,” The Figure snorted.

“Well, it was high risk. But like, all the guys there. We were on big caps if we could pull it off.”

“Essentially a suicide job then,” The Figure sighed. “It was evening when you arrived. Start again from the briefing.”

“Right, sure thing.” Dawn cleared her throat. “It was about dusk. We told all ponies to take a knee and anyone who had anything to contribute would step up. This one time, I listened.”

_____________________________________________________________________

All the ponies were gathered around in a semicircle facing the bridge, crouched down as one by one the ponies with something to contribute stood and addressed the group as a whole.

Night Light was nervously glancing to the black stallion with the mutilated face. He was just seated in front of her. She was acting worse than a school filly with a crush.

Dawn just hung at the back of the pack, out of sight and hopefully out of mind. The large Bull Dozer was erect before the group. He cleared his throat and began to recite some intel disinterestedly, looking everywhere but the faces of the ponies he was speaking to.

“The average Germane sniper has an effective range of six-hundred-and-fifty yards. Their rifle of choice is a bolt-action three-thirty-eight calibre rifle. The range is largely to do with the poorly-trained operator.  If one of my crew were to commandeer said rifle we reckon we could kill a pony at approximately... what did you say it was, Way Paver?” he said looking to the charcoal stallion with the melted face.

The pony being addressed sighed and spoke in a lazy and tired voice, “Eight-hundred yards, and they’d never hear the bullet that killed them.”

“That.” Bull Dozer nodded to the stallion, going back into his respective place in the crowd.

Dawn watched as Bull Dozer scooched in next to ‘Way Paver’, starting hushed conversation with him.

Next up was Cigaro. The stern, snappy mare she scanned over the group. “OK, my beeches know the score! But for those stoo-pid ash-holes here, let me explain!” she barked.

“Trouble is going with those pricks in the boat we got under The Bridge. He go in, he go arms factory, arms factory go boom, we make hold on Bridge, we wait for reinforcements, we kill ponies. Good?” she asked in her harsh and stern voice.

“Yes ma’am.” Half the ponies droned submissively.

“O-kay,” she sounded out, stomping back to her seating position.

Worthy got up next, taking long strides before the group. He looked over them before briskly beginning a fast speech. “I got a few things you all should know,” he began in his cold, emotionless tone. “There will be more ponies holding here than many of you have ever shot at in your lives. The base plan for the holding of the bridge is to clear it of all cover and hold it through sheer numbers and the fortified elevated catwalks essentially making the entire thing one gigantic killzone.”

That last part sparked some conversation. “Quiet beeches!” Cigaro barked, a wave of silence passed over the group.

Worthy continued beginning to pace up and down. “With the exception of various checkpoints, they are sparse and too minimal for a force such as this. I recommend allowing us to set our sniper detail on the first catwalk, which to my understanding is clear, and blow the subsequent ones. The resulting debris will prove to be sufficient cover and a line to hold.”

Cigaro nodded to herself, pleased with the suggestion.

“The Purists have cleared most of the cars from the bridge, stripped down for metal for their mills or parts for their industry. They will have no shortage of ammunition and we can expect constant and heavy harassment.” He stopped momentarily to let that last part sink in.

“The Purists’ forces comprised of columns of thirty peasant fighters they called ‘Serviles’. Their most base fighter, nearly no training and no medic and, most importantly, no armour, these are just conscripted fools with rifles. Very high-end assault rifles at that. They’re trained to kill their wounded instead of evacuating them- only if they’re not fit to carry a weapon. In theory that is a sound concept. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link, and the enemy is undoubtedly weaker fending for their incapacitated comrades. But, let’s take into consideration their circumstance- most forced into fighting, most incapable of fighting due to lack of training, and odds are they’ll be killing more of their own soldiers than ours.” Dawn’s opinion of these ‘Purists’ was rapidly changing. She looked to Night Light. She was unfazed, beyond caring.

“Next up we got some more serious combatants, called ‘Crusaders’. These are trained soldiers, many of whom come from a line of soldiers before Gabriel seized powe, so it’s generational. Their training is good- not outstanding, but good. They have fairly decent armour. It’s basically light combat armour but just as effective due to their technological superiority. Expect maybe some magical energy weaponry along with advanced tactics. These are proper soldiers. Their experience is questionable, though. They may not be used to real hardcore combat like most of us here.” Some of the more rowdy ponies in the crowd cheered, most from the Sick Squad.

“There is also the threat of Angel-tier forces in that armour, but my brother and his crew decimated their most elite unit in one day at Marizona Springs. They probably do NOT want to chance losing more of those suits. The suits in question are primitive beyond belief and come in two specs, the first being the heavy model. It’s only capable of walking, has slowed joint movements, heavily restricted field of vision, and it’s power supply is weak and only lasts about fifty hours. The entire suit is dependant on the processor in the helmet. If that gets impacted, suit locks and game over. However, it is practically bulletproof, and on an open field like this, that's a major fucking, fucking problem. Trouble was fortunate enough to only encounter Gabriel’s Trumpet without their logistical support due to overconfidence. Any other day and grenades and missiles would have been their weapons of choice,” he said staring over the crowd, a little uneasy by the prospect of that tier of hurt.

“The other model is the ‘light’ model and in my opinion the superior one. The light model can function without the helmet, but accuracy and overall performance suffers from it. The ponies wearing it can move at a brisk job at least and the armour is still tough as fuck, but I doubt we will be facing them. Our main concern is their unit specifically designed for the holding of the Bridge.”

“What ou-nit is this!?” Cigaro cried out standing up.

“Gun Wall. It’s a large thick wall of armouring with machine guns mounted in slots to fire from. It comes up at around a seventy degree angle and has a six pony crew- two machine gunners, four pushers. It’s only a wall on wheels, but on this Bridge, it may as well be a fucking Squad. Once deployed, the pushers turn into reserve gunners, another fine example of pony expenditure,” he snorted.

“And last of al,l but most importantly, beware of their mortars. If you hear that pop and a whistle, run. Scatter and make them lose their lock, then regroup for another attempt. You’re no good to any pony if you’re mince.”

“That’s all. One final thing. If one of us goes down, regardless of loyalty of creed, we help them out. We’re in this together.” Worthy concluded, stepping away from the group.

Cigaro assumed the lead of the entire group, standing ahead of them all, staring right down The Bridge, the catwalks, the miles of concrete and steel. The sun was setting behind them, casting their lengthened silhouettes across the cold, pale concrete.

“Let’s kill some sukas!” she growled.

“Yes ma’am!” the three squads from Phoenix syphoned in unison.

“Trouble, you follow me! I show you something!” Cigaro snapped gesturing him to follow. Trouble looked to Rico. The stallion nodded. Trouble rose onto his hind hooves. He looked back to Dawn, giving her a reassuring small wink as he followed the angry Cigaro on his hind hooves, resting The Red Queen on his shoulder.

Worthy galloped frantically to his brother, skidding to a halt before him offering him a small bag. They exchanged a few inaudible words and Trouble accepted, stowing it in his duster somewhere.

Cigaro lead him onto the beach and under The Bridge, the whole undercarriage cast in darkness. Waiting for them was a small, wooden boat with the white paint flaking off of it. Inside the boat were two ponies operating disintegrating oars.

“These is your ticket in and probably ticket out,” Cigaro chimed in her odd accent. “Team goes now, other boat on other side for you, we checked.”

“Awrite then,” Trouble mumbled.

“You know arms factory when you see it, big fucking building, smoke stacks,” she said, slapping him on the back. “Good luck.”

Trouble laughed to himself, “Whoop-de-fucking-do.”

Cigaro smiled. “Go kill something for us.”

“I plan on it dear,” he said, stepping into the boat, setting himself next to the two ponies operating the oars. He examined them.

Both were earth ponies dressed in tight leather armour, lightly camouflaged. At their sides were small compact SMGs. They both looked tired, both worn down and drunk on fatigue.

“You’re Trouble then, huh?” the one on the left asked.

“I am.” He nodded.

“So, that’s cool.” He yawned

Trouble studied the two a while longer. They were about to drop any fucking minute and they were his fucking ride.

“You guys, scouts or something?” he asked, hoping to glean some information and make casual chat.

“Eeyup,” the one on the right drawled out.

“Why aren’t we going?” Trouble asked quickly, getting bored of the scouts.

“We were told to wait for gunshots.” The one on the left shrugged.

Trouble facehoofed. “Right then, we’ll wait.”

Above, the troops were already marshalled. All stood in their groups, readying their weapons. Dawn, Night Light, Rico and Worthy all stood by the Rap Mobile, going over the plan.

“Alright, me and Dawn hang back on the catwalk. As far as we know we’re the only snipers available. As for you two, you’ll be heading with the rest of them. We’ll cover you best we can.” Worthy’s mask was on. He did his best to try and sound sincere but he was failing.

Night Light was in a world of her own, thinking, scheming. The one thing making her nervous was Way Paver.

“Ranger, you alright?” Rico asked giving her a light nudge.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled, staring down at the ground.

Worthy nudged Dawn, pointing to the orange evening sky. “See it?”

Dawn followed his hoof to where he was pointing. It was a speck, barely visible. She had to squint to make it out. Whatever it was, it was sailing rapidly through the sky, bouncing up and down at a distance.

“What is it?” Dawn asked. She already knew.

“That pegasus. My suspicion is that he’ll prove useless.”

“Why do you think that?” Dawn asked, losing the speck and turning back to Worthy.

“He’s an idiot,” he simply said, wandering away.

“Well, I guess it’s time,” Rico sighed, following him leaving the two girls alone.

Dawn stared at Night Light. The ranger was distant, perturbed. It was clear on her face.

“Night Light?” Dawn timidly spoke. “What’s wrong?”

Night Light glanced shyly up at Dawn, her grey eyes glistening as the last red rays of sunlight struck them. “Just, an old friend,” she sheepishly smiled.

“His name is Way Paver,” she continued, looking back down to the ground. “He was a ranger too, but... I thought he died.” She gave a hollow chuckle.

“Oh fuck, Dawn,” She pleaded, “you should see his goddess damned face.” Her voice cracked as she shook her head, laughing a mirthless and empty laugh.

“Why don’t you just go and... say hi?” Dawn timidly offered, not sure of what else to say.

Night Light shook her head. “He hasn’t recognized me yet. He was one of the six of us who told the NCR to fuck off. I don’t think he wants to see me,” she murmured in a forlorn tone.

“Night Light, what happened?” Dawn asked, cutting to the chase.

Night Light was silent for a moment, rubbing her forehoof. “I’ll tell you another time, K?” She weakly offered, giving Dawn a strained smile.

Dawn hated to see her like this. It broke her heart. She sighed in defeat, “Fine, fine.” She nodded, matching Night Light’s smile.

“Ok,” Night Light mumbled quietly. “I should say something, anything just to let him know.”

“Know what?” Dawn asked curiously.

Night Light sighed, “So he knows he isn’t alone, not yet.”

_____________________________________________________________________

“Way Paver- he was assumed KIA but his corpse was never found,” The Figure remarked.

“Uh, yeah, whatever,” Dawn replied, not really caring. “We got in our groups. The Bridge was clear for a bit. Far enough to the first catwalk or overhead barricade. Or whatever you wanted to call it.”

“Right then. So between Night Light and Way Paver, what happened?” The Figure asked.

“Well, she didn’t speak to him for a long while. We’ll get there. Night Light and Rico were moving up ahead of us. Me and Worthy were all back of the pack, out of earshot.”

“Why?”

“It’s the way Worthy liked it.”

_____________________________________________________________________

The group moved along the concrete path. The only sound for miles was the quiet pitter patter of their hooves on the hard, ancient surface, the constant stinking breeze defiling their sense of smell- a constant annoyance. The wafting, stomach-churning gust formed a lump in the pit of Dawn’s stomach.

Rico and Night Light were in the midsection, keeping themselves in the centre of the group, just blending in. Dawn and Worthy were falling behind the main group, strolling casually side by side.

It wasn’t long before they crossed the source of the distant, black smoke columns, all but burned out. Charred carcasses, dusty piles of them at the sides of The Bridge.

The entire group passed by, barely giving it any notice. Night Light glanced at one. Spotting a scorched limb, she turned her head, forming a dark scowl and quietly chambering a round into her Valkyrie.

Dawn shuddered. The smoke jammed her nostrils up, the ash being gently carried away by the breeze into her coat. She grimaced, her hooves trembling as she struggled lifting them. She slowed with every step. Her teeth chattered loudly against her will.

Enough!

She stopped, stopped everything, stopped thinking, stopped moving, and stopped fucking shitting herself. Her head sagged, muscles locked up. Worthy halted alongside her, they weren’t far from their spot- third catwalk, the last free one. Every seven-hundred yards there was another catwalk, or garrisonable position

He kept his silence, staring at their position. It was just an overhang, some makeshift stairs up and a bunch of metal panels and sandbags to rest on. That’ll do perfectly.

Worthy looked to the mare at his side. There she was, small, weak, too skinny, too inexperienced and too dumb. Yet. She had braids and a finely crafted piece of armour. She had a rifle he desperately craved, and she had lasted this long.

What Trouble seen in her, he was slowly beginning to understand. The group moved on. Worthy didn’t care for them. It was her that enthralled him, the rigid mare who just decided to lock up.

The cold stallion wrestled off his mask, inspecting her with his own eye, pacing around her. Her muscles tensed, planted firmly into the ground, her head hung low in defeat, the utter deflation keeping it down.

Worthy halted. He could wonder, or he could ask. She had business being here. Not yet.

“What do you want Dawn?” he asked, resuming his pacing.

She kept her silence, unable to speak.

“You wanna be raw? A killer perhaps? Maybe not? Maybe so?” he sighed. “Let me rephrase, what do you ‘need’?”

Dawn kept her head down. “I don’t know.” She admitted in a low, frail voice.

“Maybe you want to need something.” He offered.

Dawn didn’t answer. If he wanted to be ominous and speak in riddles she’d let him, but it doesn’t mean she’d answer him.

“I don’t think you understand a thing,” he began. “You’re scared, feeling lonely, feeling depressed.”

Dawn raised her head, breathing slowly, not able to face Worthy. She only glimpsed his hooves as he passed.

“You WANT to be able to kill, you WANT to be needed, but you’re scared of dying, scared of what’ll it take or what they’ll do to you. It’s the only reason you’re here. You want glory, a better life.”

Dawn took a deep breath, the air unlocking several of her joints. Listening to Worthy’s voice.

Worthy chuckled, “You know, when I was young, very young, I used to check every alcove and dark corner I could think of before going to bed. I was petrified of being attacked by a monster in the depths or a hidden assailant from my nightmares.”

Dawn’s breathing quickened, her heart thumping gradually faster in her chest, causing an uneven rhythm. Her soul sunk in her chest, the hooves stopped right before her. She glanced up, her panicky state causing her teeth to chatter loudly as her entire body quivered.

Worthy was staring right into her, a dark grin on his face. He continued with another chuckle. “But, after I killed for the first time, I stopped. I noticed that I stopped. I was only a kid, very young.” He nodded, keeping his tone even, reliving the events behind his big amber eye.

“I stumbled upon something very... true.” He broke eye contact, looking around in thought. The stallion sighed, leaning in close to whisper. His chilling breath on her neck caused her entire being to shiver.

“We stopped looking for the monsters when we realized the monsters were inside of us,” he laughed quietly. “It’ll be our secret.”

“But I know all about your monsters, and I’m gonna give you some advice,” he whispered to her, pulling his head away,\. Dawn looked up to him, her body still shaking. Worthy laid a comforting hoof on her shoulder.

“Become the monster,” he firmly told her, turning to walk away, leaving her to think.

The feminine voice spoke to her again, cooing in an affectionate tone, “Even monsters have the right to live, my dear.”

Her thoughts cleared. She looked to the ash pile to her left, the half-ash limbs jutting up from the heap, the burned black bones poking out.

Not me.

She wouldn’t allow them to reduce her to ash, not now, not ever. Not so long as she had breath in her lungs and blood in her veins. All these ponies have done was kill and destroy. And all she had done is kill and destroy. There was no difference anymore, only who was better at it.

Her fear turned into determination. Worthy was ahead of her, stepping up onto the catwalk as the group moved ahead. She gulped down her fear and galloped after him. Fuck all of it. She could kill. She was more ready to kill than any cutthroat or thug in the whole NCR.

And she was eager to prove it. Let them come, let them fire their guns, she’d fire back and then we’d all see who’s left standing.

“Worthy!” she panted, skidding to a halt next to him. The dark stallion turned his head to look back. “I’m ready,” she spoke between breaths, giving him a stiff nod.

The stallion smiled to himself. “Pay close attention and do as I instruct.” He firmly asserted stepping up the metal staircase, his hooves clanking down on the creaky metalwork.

Dawn nodded briskly, following Worthy eagerly up. Her mind racing, thoughts of violence spurred her up. Angry threats and promises of death cycled through her psyche.

Worthy flexed his shoulder. With the loud clank of metal locking in place, his bolt-action jumped out from his cloak folds. Dawn hadn’t really paid it much heed till now, but it was quite beautiful.

The black, laminated wood, polished and glistening, the gold-plated barrel and action that by some miracle dulled enough to not quite catch the light but maintaining its beauty. Worthy clamped his teeth down on the rifle and yanked it, the rifle ripping free with a loud ‘clank’ followed by the shifting rustling of springs.

He gently placed the rifle against on the lowest cover available, the sandbags in the centre of the catwalk. Ducking low just so his head was below the cover, Dawn watched curiously, still behind the tall metal sheets.

“Come here, duck low, plant your rifle alongside mine and stay to my left,” Worthy ordered.

Dawn nodded, crouching low, carefully planting each hoof. A metallic note chimed with every hoof she placed. She slowly levitated Bad News adjacent to the bolt-action, keeping to the left half of the sandbags as instructed.

“Seven-hundred yards from here is another catwalk. We’re going to make sure it’s empty. It’s alongside a barricade, one of the few checkpoints left. It’s going to be a struggle. Once we take it out, we sprint to catch up and set up once more. Then the real fighting breaks out,” Worthy confidently stated. Dawn nodded in compliance.

“Odds are the hostile snipers - if any are active - are staring right at us, and if that’s the case, as soon as either of us pokes our heads up, one of us will die or come very close to at least,” he told her calmly, his tone staying even and confident.

Dawn swallowed and licked her lips, nodding again.

“Take your rifle,” he ordered her.

Dawn did as she was told, hurriedly snatching it, awaiting her next order.

“Now, press your back against the cover and duck her head low, resting the rifle on your lap,” he instructed her calmly.

Dawn did as instructed, scooching in awkwardly against the bags. She looked to Worthy expectantly.

“Your scope has a digital display. Do you see the knobs on the scope? The big one on the top is range. Since this is a more sophisticated scope, the onboard systems do most the calculations. Look down the scope and twist the knob to the right till it’s set to seven-hundred yards or about five-hundred metres.”

Dawn did as she was told without a word. She pressed her right eye against the scope. It definitely wasn’t glass she was looking through- it was a perfect display. Tiny lines were apparent on the display as they moved horizontally across, giving it a tiny but insignificant amount of blur. On the crosshair was a red dot bobbing around. She reserved her questions, twisting the knob as instructed, the scope magnifying making a low, squeaking noise as it adjusted. In the top right corner of the display a small counter appeared:

400 yds *Squeak*

450 yds *Squeak*

500 yds *Squeak*

550 yds *Squeak*

The scope continued its squeaky, grind-like noise as the picture intensified up to 700 yds the display studying the finer details of a scratch on the metal panels.

“It’s set,” she said in an exhale.

“The red dot, that’s roughly where the bullet will hit, roughly where. I’ll take the first shot,” Worthy told her, easing his rifle to rest on the sandbags, the stock pressed firmly against his shoulder, nestled against his cloak. His movements slow and careful he rubbed the lens with his muzzle, clearing it off dust.

“Step one, control your breathing. Slow and steady- you’re in no rush,” Worthy murmured soothingly, aiming down his scope.

Dawn inhaled deeply through her nostrils, letting the air fill her lungs to capacity, a steely calm determination sweeping over her body as she was slowly coerced into obedience by Worthy.

“There are no snipers, good. I can see the barricade. They got sandbags set up at ground level as well as machine guns on the catwalks, heavily fortified, a rudimentary wall. Have a look, but don’t shoot. There’s plenty of time for that,” he cooed gently.

Dawn slowly turned, raising her rifle only to gently lower it onto the sandbags. She telekinetically flicked out the legs of the bipod mounted underneath, moving into a more comfortable position.

A barricade, like Worthy described. Some diligent ponies went to the great effort of erecting a large, catwalk-integrated checkpoint building turned into a miniature fort complete with metal walls to stop bullets and machine gun positions .The machine guns in question were identical to the ones the Angels used in Marizona.

Through her scope she saw it all, even to the most minute detail. It felt like she was standing little over twenty yards out. Through the powerful scope, she could go as far as to study the finer features of a pony’s face with ease.

The sandbags were lined up to allow passage on The Bridge and only to choke little over half of it. The small portcullis under the midsection of the catwalk stood three times higher than any pony alive.

Dawn finished her survey with a quick glance over the guards- two dozen or so, half a dozen on the catwalk lazily pacing around in boredom, the rest packed behind the sandbags down below, bunched together in cliques paying no heed to the road.

They all wore the same uniform, a pale-blue tunic with a blood-red ballistics vest, if a poor one. They carried the same weapons too, a stocky, scrunched-up-looking assault rifle that the earth ponies wore at the side, mounted to a battle saddle.

Dawn kept her eye pressed against the square-shaped lens, waiting for Worthy to decree judgement.

“Eyes on the catwalk,” Worthy began in a hushed tone.

Dawn swivelled her view onto the overhang, scanning for the threats.

“Step two, ID targets and prioritize. The machine gunners are the main threat. Inside the checkpoint is a pony operating a radio. As soon as shots go off they’ll radio for backup... nothing we can do about that.” He assured her in a soft tone.

Dawn accepted this. It was getting bad regardless. Her smaller world was a slower one and calm as long as she gazed through that scope and listened to the voice of reason next to her, guiding her aim.

“Step three, take aim. Use the red dot to line your shot up. Aim for the nape of the neck or breast. No need to try and blow their skulls apart, that’s for the show-offs, when you get better you may. A well-placed shot to the body is just as effective- in some cases, more so. Your target is the machine gunner on the left side of the catwalk. He’s at his turret.” Dawn found her target, a pony perched on the sandbags with its back to her. Sexless, she couldn’t determine the gender, only the base features.

“Do you have the target in your sights?” Worthy asked in a calm tone.

“Yes,” she murmured in response.

“Study the target. Track their movements, even to the most subtle degree- their figure, their frame. Learn to be able to spot them from a crowd of thousands,” Worthy hissed, his voice stimulating her senses.

Earth pony, medium sized.

Blue mane, long mane.

Grey coat, scruffy, flea ridden - constant scratching.

The pony turned its head to the side, looking disgruntled over the sea from its viewpoint.

Mare.

Blue eyes, like me.

Sad eyes.

No.

Lonely.

Dawn rested the red dot that hung under the crosshair on the broad of the mare’s back. She exhaled slowly, apologetic for what she was about to do.

“Do you feel for her?” Worthy asked in a deflated hiss.

“Yes,” Dawn sighed. It pained her to admit it. This mare didn’t have it coming.

“That’ll leave you, in time. I’ll count you in. On my mark, her life will end.” Worthy promised keeping his even calm, soothing voice.

“Are you ready?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes.” Dawn swallowed. He was making this hard. Maybe it was never supposed to be.

“Three.”

Dawn steadied her aim, picking a higher, protruding bone in the mare’s spine.

“Two.”

The mare yawned loudly, rubbing her tired blue eyes, looking back down to the ground.

“One.”

The mare’s ears perked as she turned, looking over her shoulder in alarm, her eyes growing wide in terror as she spotted the band approaching.

“Fire.”

Sorry.

Dawn tensed the trigger. With a jump of the rifle, the resonating bang of the powder, and the flash from the muzzle, the mare tumbled backwards off the sandbags, plummeting to the hard concrete below as a cloud of sanguine erupted from her front. Her entire body went limp instantly, impacting on the thick surface, her body scrunching up as her innards were compacted and forced around, bones bending with the sudden force. She lay with a crumpled body in a pool of her own building blood.

“Perfect,” Worthy purred in grim satisfaction.

Dawn inhaled deeply again, sucking the air through her nostrils. The whole world was slowed and slurred, motions impeded and made sullen.

She turned her head to the guiding voice. His eye was an inch from the scope, his face pulled in an expression of raw concentration. The rifle rocked back, punching into his shoulder as a loud crack syphoned and a blaze burst from the barrel.

Worthy ducked low, bringing his rifle back down to its resting place. He grabbed Dawn’s hoof and yanked her down. Shrill, panicked cries rang out, followed by loud bursts of gunfire. It was on.

He held her down. Dawn didn’t object. Worthy dropped out a small two-way radio and pressed to transmit. “Trouble, you moving?”

The scrambled, crackling voice of Trouble answered on the other end, “We’re moving, thanks for the silencers.”

“I’ll keep her out of the fire like you asked, and for you, Flankfurt is huge but the factory is the biggest building in the place. There’ll be troops, guards, plenty of civilians and children, and the factory is gonna go up with hell of a bang. Quickly and quietly, keep to the outskirts. There are plenty of abandoned buildings,” Worthy instructed him. The pause between conversation was filled with loud cracks of high-powered weaponry.

“Where’s the pegasus?” Came the unfazed and disinterested response.

“Not here, and odds are never will be.”

“It’s grand. Just keep ‘em fucking busy and once it’s blown, leave. Our job is done. They can fend for themselves.”

Worthy looked to Dawn, his brow furrowed in thought. “Right, we make contact again at dawn.”

“Agreed, out.”

Worthy sighed, “Looks like we won’t be here as long as I thought?”

“We’re just going to leave them!?” Dawn exclaimed, astonished that Trouble, the pony who dragged her halfway across the world to safety, could so easily abandon ponies like this.

“Regrettable. We done our part. We got them the guns they requested and once my brother deals with the factory, our job is done. If they want extra, they’ll have to pay for it.” He smirked, finishing in a smug tone.

“Less work, more money?” Dawn shyly offered.

“Exactly.” Worthy gave her a genuine smile. “You learn quick. Now let’s get back to work.”

Dawn nodded, clutching Bad News as Worthy loosened his grip on her. “Listen to my voice. It’ll speak louder than any of the guns. It’ll guide you through this,” Worthy spoke back in his soothing and reassuring tone, lifting his rifle once more.

“Our ponies, they’re contending with reinforcements,” he told her, scanning the scene through his scope. “Kill only those foolish enough to try to operate the machine guns unless I tell you otherwise.”

“I will.” She promised in a sincere tone, raising the square digital lens to her eye. Packs of ponies were shifting clumsily behind the cover on the catwalk, too scared to lift their heads- and with good reason. Below them on the ground, the ‘Sick Squad’ were at the sandbags, a pile of corpses behind the cover. They had sustained wounds, bloodied hooves and holes in their armour. None of them seemed to care.

Dawn kept her red dot hovered over the machine gun, inhaling slowly through her nostrils, gently exhaling through her mouth. “Patience, Dawn. They are already dead.”

They're already dead.

She waited, and waited. The ground levels were cleared. The portcullis was flooded with corpses as the Purist forces were funneled through to die. A few made it into the structure and were putting up a tenacious resistance.

She blinked.

What the fuck!?

The entire line behind the catwalk cover was shredded, a heap of mutilated flesh and gore, a stream of thick soup like blood dribbled through cracks in the cover, staining the bottom of the sandbags crimson.

“That’d be our air support,” Worthy chuckled.

A pink blur whirred past Dawn’s scope. She swivelled the bipod rapidly to track it. The blur was moving at an incredible speed, ducking and diving, swirling through the air. Dawn watched as bright tracer rounds chased it through the air, the bright flashes illuminating the sky as the sun sank, the day turning dark.

The Sick Squad ponies were the first in the structure itself, clearing the rooms in seconds with long sprays from their machine guns, the echoes reverberating back to their position.

“What now?” Dawn asked, the voice’s guidance absent for too long.

“We take a walk, catch up and set up,” Worthy proclaimed snatching his rifle up as he stood tall, heading across the catwalk down the stairs.

Dawn took a deep breath and followed, keeping Bad News at the ready.

The gunshots perpetually rang out, the dull loud bangs, the

DU-DU-DU-DU-DU-DU-DU!! ‘s

and the

KA-KA-KA-KA-KA-KA-KA!! ‘s droning out for an eternity.

Dawn followed Worthy along The Bridge at their moderate pace, the shots increasing in volume as they drew closer, decibel by decibel, step by step.

She looked over her shoulder a final time, the last rays of the sun’s burning, orange radiance was falling behind the horizon leaving them alone in the dark.

This is going to be a long night.

_____________________________________________________________________

Trouble sat slouched over in the boat as the two tired scouts rowed with difficulty through the dense sludge. Above them was the echo of battle, the distinct sound of gunshots, the crack of the sniper’s rifle and the occasional shriek of terror and agony.

Trouble sighed. He just got off the radio with Worthy. He held in his hooves his ornate revolvers, two long silencers on the end of them- courtesy of Worthy. He gazed past the scouts to his distant goal.

Flankfurt was another four miles from the bridge. He could either round the edge of the coast and try to enter via the harbour or test his luck and walk in the front door... or...

“Here, would you lads know if the sewers are still standing?” Trouble asked, furrowing his brow, leaning forward.

The scouts blinked simultaneously, which deeply unsettled him for some strange reason.

“We dunno. We found an entrance but it stunk ‘a’ shit,” the one on the left answered.

“No shit.” Trouble rolled his eyes.

“No, there was plenty of that inside mister.” The one on the right objected.

He was clearly among scholars whose intellect far surpassed his own. He best weave his next words into a delicate but sophisticated sentence, so best to lull them into a firm state of trusting and reassurance.

“You lads are a pair of fucking idiots.” He deadpanned with the utmost good faith.

The two scouts went silent, staring at the burly, aging stallion with the metal talons and revolvers in his grip. Yeah, they weren’t dumb enough to give him back chat.

The coast on the other side was barely visible. It was going to be a while yet, especially since these guys had two speeds: Dog slow or Full stop.

“What are your names?” Trouble asked, palming a cigarette.

“Well he’s Dog Slo-” Trouble halted him with a hoof.

He spat, “Say. No. Fucking. More.”

Why are the stupid ones always alive?

Trouble lit up the smoke, taking a short puff.

This was going to be a long night.

_____________________________________________________________________

Dad was right. I should’ve stuck with the drug dealing.

Rico pushed up behind the group. The barricade was liberated. The entire group pushed through in the seconds of silence they had before gunfire sparked up once more.

Night Light was behind him. The mare’s shoulder was aching from using the M60, but she had to press on. Way Paver still hadn’t noticed her. Maybe he did but was keeping his distance.

Rico rushed through, following the single file line that had developed. They burst through the other side. It was pitch-black now. He couldn’t see the hooves of the pony next to him.

The cover here matched that of the other side- sandbags and a view from the catwalk with lowered cover, but this side lacked machine guns.

They emerged to the other side, ceasing their rushed movements and momentum. It was clear, or clear enough, the corpses of the mowed down  soldiers filling the road, the  constant sound of hooves splashing in the puddles filled the night air along with the smell of gunpowder, sweat and fear.

Maybe this was it for the nigh-

BAMM!!!

The distant crack came. Rico ducked down as a head exploded next to him, showering him in gore. Rico recoiled in shock and disgust, a smudge of grey matter striking the corner of his eye, temporarily blinding him as he tumbled into cover.

Gunfire started up triumphantly. Ponies dashed to cover, letting loose a volley or two, some taking hits with others throwing themselves to the ground or dragging the few wounded. Night Light skidded next to Rico.

“Hey Rico!” she yelled over the deafening bangs and ignition of gunpowder. “You good!?” She slapped his shoulder popping up from the sandbags to fire a burst into the darkness, the sparks and ejected cartridges falling onto Rico below.

“Fucking dandy!” He shouted back in frustration, rubbing his eye furiously, his hoof matted in the gooey substance.

“That’s the spirit!” Night Light cheered, spotting muzzle flashes and focusing her fire.

Rico rolled onto his elbows and knees, squeezing the eye tightly shut he sluggishly rose pressing his eye to the scope of his rifle ‘Overture’ he spotted a distant flash, a bullet whizzed over Night Light’s shoulder, gaspingly close to her throat, a jolt of panic ran through her, she ceased fire immediately to get down behind the cover, panting heavily watching as a lock of her hair wafted downwards gently onto the ground by her hooves.

Rico fired a single round back at the offending markspony. His rifle gave a chime as the round sailed through the darkness. He fell back to his knees, unsure and not caring if he hit his mark, splashing a canteen of water onto his face. He smeared it into his eye just to get the fucking viscera covered shit out of his eye!

It made sick, sucking, squelching noises. He groaned. He could open his eye with ease before long. The gunfire escalated on the defending side from the darkness. He was waiting for their defense to step up. This firefight had escalated into a battle.

Rico got pressed against the sandbags next  to Night Light. “I fucking hate this place already.” he swore angrily.

“Look on the bright side,” she chirped. “Think of the number of the cunts we killed already!”  She laughed over the gunfire, popping up to fire another burst.

Night Light ducked back down low afterwards, getting an idea. She flicked the bipod out and rested the M60 on the midsection of the sandbags, ponies either side of her firing into the night in their uniforms. On their side was Bull Dozer’s crew and the Sick Squad. Way Paver was at the end of the cover, six ponies separating him from a good look at her.

Night Light  drew a deep breath, drawing it up to fire a continuous burst at the blazing muzzles firing back. Her bright lead shone through the void. Loud dinks rang out as metal struck metal, her rounds exploding into a shower of dazzling sparks as the machine gun fire persisted and drew closer.

“Gun Wall!” Cigaro barked in her strange accent.

Night Light ducked back behind cover, the spray from the approaching machine guns  running over their cover. A pony from the Sick Squad fell down next to her, a dozen holes in his chest.

“Asphalt!” a mare screamed in terror, falling onto the fresh corpse, breaking into tears as the mare clung to the stallion’s perforated body.

Night Light’s expression softened. No pony would hold her corpse.

Hard Luck.

The bulky Bull Dozer threw his shotgun onto the sandbags and blind-fired. “Ranger! Fucking blow it!” he yelled furiously.

Night Light looked to Bull Dozer as if there was some mistake.

“Covering fire!” Way Paver shouted, rising up with the large tube on his shoulder. Bull Dozer’s ponies obliged. They rose in unison to lay down fire for Way Paver. The machine guns kept firing, their accuracy harshly affected.

The bullets smacked into the barricade behind with loud ‘Clanks’ or into the sandbags with soft ‘Pfumps’.

A loud hiss came from the tube as a large jet of smoke and a fiery warhead was launched from it. The warhead shrieked through the air, leaving a blazing trail as it soared, smacking against the invisible wall, momentarily illuminated by the fire before a blinding flash accompanied by a deafening boom reduced it to scrap metal.

Nearly everypony stopped shooting to stare up at the smug-looking Way Paver, a satisfied grin plastered on his face as he triumphantly held the tube on his shoulder.

Even the mare cuddling the corpse stopped to look up with glistening, teary eyes.

Way Paver casually lowered the tube, resting the launching end of it on the ground as he opened the rear end. A jet of smoke bellowed out as he slowly removed the spent -

Bamm!

Way Paver hit the ground, hard. He was propelled two feet backwards as he lay on the broad of his back, writhing in pain, the tube at his side. The distant crack was heard only after he had fallen.

Ponies rushed frantically to Way Paver’s side, including the large Bull Dozer.

The metal round was embedded in his chest armour, but the concussive force alone launched him. He mumbled to himself as they pulled him back onto his hooves.

On cue with a mechanical loud chime, the entire Bridge was bathed in a powerful wash of blinding light. Flood lights- the powerful rays were suspended on the tendrils high above holding The Bridge upright.

It was as if some strange god created their own bubble of day so they could fight in clearer fields. Rico squinted up at the dozens of tiny suns beaming down on him. He peeked up from his cover.

He immediately regretted it.

A small horde was moving up, the burlier of them carrying sandbags and deployable metal sheets as cover.

The approaching group steadily paced forward, laying down perpetual covering fire on the group. Night Light was drawing a total blank, stumped. Blinded by the overpowering lights, deafened by the overwhelming noise, panicked by the death and blood around her hooves like wet mud.

She gritted her teeth, her frustration building and building. Sick of all this shit, it would be an injustice to shit to call it shit.

Her horn glowed faintly, flickering weakly in a silver glow. She, just, couldn’t, FOCUS!

She shut her eyes tightly, dropping everything, the fucking gunfire was too distracting!

She jammed her hooves into her ears, blocking what she could, barely muffling the booming gunfire.

With a loud mechanical crank the lights on the Purist occupied sections of The Bridge fell under a cloak of impermeable darkness, returning to the rest of the world.

Know we didn’t even know what we were shooting at! The ineffective nature of their return fire lead to another pony dropping, the wails of pain scrambling her thoughts.

This was unfair, insane, desperate. They may aswell marched in with sparklers up their asses and neon crosshairs on their chests.

Night Light managed a steady glow, her magic feeling out the immediate area for all light sources, there were plenty. Even if they got to shooting them, it didn’t matter. They were running at 100% times X didn’t matter if they blew ten, they’d still be perfectly illuminated.

She forced herself, grinding her teeth as a bead of sweat trickled down her brow from the strained concentration. She began to grunt loudly, her entire body tensing up, the glow on her horn intensifying, building in radiance and flair.

The pressure on her temples hurt her skull, forcing her hooves deep into them, the lights flickered momentarily casting the group in darkness for a fleeting second.

C’mon bitch! Nearly there!

Night Light howled through clenched jaws, her face scrunched into a snarl, in a full on sweat, her horn’s overglow beaming brightly even under the scrutiny of the floodlights.

She let out a final howl, the strain of the spells’ exertion causing her entire being to convulse and knot, the horn’s magic collapsed with a resounding sonic wave, all at once the flood lights flared their powerful white lights burning with such intensity it bathed the group in a severe heat, the lights exploded with their own force. Each a dazzling explosion blinding any onlookers as the glittering glass fragments trickled down all around them, matting the road in a glistening layer of miniscule shards.

the magnitude of the casting generated a sonic boom, the force rendered Night Light limp, all the strength drained from her body as her head rolled on the neck joint, dazed and disoriented, back in the protection of the blackness. She played one of her few cards, she’d need a breather before she could play another.

Perfect. Her brain was in a hazy mess, if she could see actually see(apart from the flashing muzzle fire) she’d know her vision was blurred, the stock of the M60 was rested against her shoulder, she’d have to get back on that, wouldn’t she?

Way Paver was crouched down, stepping away from the combat to stare at the limp silver mare at the sandbags who just cast them in the cloak of darkness, the valkyrie on her back, the brown cowpony hat with a purple feather in the black band.

His discoloured eye twitched, he couldn’t have been that blind, could he? They took one eye, but that shouldn’t have meant the other could miss the obvious.

His ribs ached sharply and his chest felt tight around his organs, it pained him to breath, but that didn’t matter. She was little less than ten feet from him, a reunion, would have to wait.

Rico poked his rifle and head up, quickly taking aim he tapped the trigger several times at the source of several flashes. He didn’t risk checking to see if he scored kills, he was waiting, any minute now before they started getting explosives out, then this tightly grouped gang of expendables will be royally fucked.

Rico glanced down, Night Light was still laying there, staring aimlessly into the metal walls of the barricade. He couldn’t even get a laugh out of her right now, he got onto his knees and pulled her up the sandbags , bullets slamming into them, it was only a matter of time before they burst. Rico lifted her chin to look her in the eyes, twisting her head around.

Her blank, dazed and sweaty face looked right through him, Rico grunted in frustration, scrunching his face up, he gently slapped her cheek.

“Ranger! Snap out of it!” He ordered, his face scrunched up rapidly slapping her cheek. No luck. Just a small moan of objection from the mare, her brain too hazy and foggy to even register his words, let alone jump start a body in combat mode.

Her brain couldn’t, but he could.

Half a hit, no, quarter hit. Keep her somewhat in control, Bruiser may be too volatile for this situation, but what choice did he have?

Rico hurriedly fumbled out the small jar, pressing his back against the sandbags, in the same ninety degree position as Night Light, only a little less slumped.

The jarred glowing green crystals stood out in the absolute darkness, he arched his knees and rested the glass container on his stomach, this was one of the dumbest times ever conceived to prepare a drug to be fit for ingestion, specifically tailored for a down and out mare.

He’d only need a little, Rico gently broke of a single spike from a crystal and telekinetically rose it from the jar. The twinkling star rising from the depths of the darkness, if he were high he probably would’ve broke down in tears.

He gently placed the glowing green star in the flat of his outstretched hoof, drawing it in close to himself to best view the process.

He brought his other hoof down on top of the star, the small sound of the glass like composition shattering pierced his ears, he twisted his hooves around, the grainy, crunching sound of the small star being reduced to dust stood out to him. His ears trained to make out the distinct tell tale signs.

He parted his hooves, on his left was a blanket of twinkling star dust, the mystifying green powder glistening on his hoof. He looked at the starkly beautiful powder drug with an odd appreciation of it. With a small grin he turned to the mare on his right who was only sharpening up now, her brain duller than a cup of murky water.

Smashing.

Best get this over with, he parted her mouth by wedging his free between her teeth, she’d either be really pissed, or really glad. With the other hoof he gently tipped it onto her tongue, the dry grains cascading down, illuminating the walls of her cheeks and gums.

Okay now for the water, Rico telekinetically rounded his large canteen of water around to the mare, uncapping it and resting it on bottom lip in one quick motion. He tipped the water in, the pure translucent liquid gushing in, sweeping up and mixing with the star dust creating a glowing green whirlpool in her mouth.

He closed her mouth with his hooves and shook her head up and down, mixing it all up with the meaty sound of water being pushed around the mouth.

“Please, please swallow.” he pleaded out in exasperation, the last thing he wanted was for her to choke. And oddly enough, it’s not the first time he ever begged a mare to swallow for him.

He tilted her chin up high, Night Light’s body subconsciously gulped down the water, even if it was infused with a rather unsuspecting drug. The fluid landed in the bit of her stomach, he would’ve dissolved it and had her shoot it in a needle if he could, or if she could snort it, even easier.

A minute, a minute before it took effect. Rico took a deep breath, stowing the jar on his person along with the canteen, not before taking a healthy gulp for himself.

He calmly put it away, for a moment the raging battle around him dissipated, he could think, what was there to think about? His mother? His family? outside Trouble’s usual dumb dreams of loyalty and brotherhood inside this paramilitary gig of course. Not that it all mattered now, from slinging drugs on a street corner, to busting heads with his hooves, to busting slugs with his guns, one thing stayed the same. He needed the fucking money.

He looked to the mare he just gave half a hit of Bruiser to. Why was she here? A ranger, a proud self righteous fool with dreams of morality and harmony. Fighting alongside scum like him, she loved the sound of a stack of jangling caps as much as the next son of a bitch that waved a gun around for a living. But he doubted it was her main motive, the rangers were gone, long gone. She wasn’t even out of her twenties by the look of it.

Maybe she’d turn on them, she would wait for the ideal time and then pop them off, one by one, all unsuspecting like. Only time woul-

BOOM!!!

The wind rushed from Rico’s lungs, the concussive blast beating into his ribs, all sounds muffled apart from the high pitched ringing in his ear drums, the blinding flash leaving its imprint on his left eye, and a corpse to his left.

That was the grenade he was waiting on.

Now was a good a time as any to actually pick his rifle back up and start thinning their ranks, he glanced over the corpse to his side with disgust, the son of a bitch was wearing armour just like his. Another fucker from Phoenix, dead.

He snatched up Overture, peeking over the cover to see to what extent their cover was deployed.

Extensively.

In the shroud they stowed away in the industrious bastards had managed to erect a miniature labyrinth of sturdy cover, ponies behind each wall of metal, or bag of sand.

They’d have to start taking ground.

Rico picked out the continuous flashes, timing it to interrupt a burst. He tapped the trigger, a single shot cycled, the rifle’s acoustics chiming as the fire from the rifle ceased. He blinked, breathing shallowly in through his nostrils.  From above, hot brass casings fell, the metal chiming a pure note as they rained down on the hard concrete beneath, a group of four managed to occupy the catwalk, spraying wildly into the field of cover.

The pegasus had vanished, either that or gotten himself killed. No line of sight, for either the racing airborne pony or the defenders.

Night Light’s vision shook, a sharp pain developing behind her eyes, she groaned loudly, a sudden wave of heat washing over her body, the blood heating in her veins. Her breathing became harsh and deliberate, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Her coat was drenched and glistening in sweat, her heart beat began to throb in her ears and her face began to turn red with exertion. A high shriek burned her eardrums, internal, a feral beast inside her head, thrashing and foaming at the mouth, giving bloodlust howls and shrieks of insanity.

The pain behind her eyes was unbearable. She grit her teeth, the sound of the tooth on tooth grinding infuriating her further. She shut her eyes closed, the gunfire meant nothing now, only the beast inside of her, howling its high pitched, ear ripping shrieks.

The beast behind her eyes  was flailing and flound’ring frantically like it was cast in fire or lime. The scrawny, malnourished fiend. Its body covered in gaudy scars and lash marks,

ribs visible through it’s dull and flaking silver coat, clumps torn out of the scruffy, frazzled silver mane.

Thrashing out at the darkness, bitter howls of distraught and grovelling for release to live out sick fantasies of carnage, all incomprehensible, all understood.

Freedom.

That’s what it was so desperately craving.

Promises of pain and death and ecstasy came with more shrieks and shrill screams.

And all it would take, was for her to open her eyes. The beast went silent, fading into her being, fusing itself into her, resuming control. Her eyes cracked wide open, all the howls and shrieks replaced with an unrivalled clearness.

Night Light was gone.

The monster inside her was free now.

She kicked off the ground snatching her M60 up. She fearlessly vaulted over the cover dashing into the darkness in one impossibly quick blur. Her horn sparked brightly as a bolt of pure radiant silver shot high into the air, exploding into a shimmering beacon of radiant light, dazzling silvers and pearly whites shone down on the Purists, casting them all under a beautiful light.

Many stopped to admire the light, bask in its purity and beauty as the beast thundered forward, the pins were pulled on two of the gas canisters she was carrying, telekinetically hurled into the labyrinth.

Two plumes of a sickly yellow smoke raced across the air, lingering till they sullenly ascended into nothingness. The canisters landed in the very heart of the cover, the shimmering light overhead allowed the silhouettes of the guttering and choking ponies to be witnessed as they danced the desperate and terrified dance of death, convulsing and flailing as they collapsed, clinging desperately to life, falling one by one.

The beast’s face was curled into a furious snarl. It’s harsh breathing and blood lust outweighing the sensations of fatigue, fear and panic.

It barreled towards the first wall of metal, firing wildly at the ponies standing behind it. The M60 bounced uncontrollably around, one lucky stray hit a pony through the windpipe, dropping them hard. The beast was thrilled at the blood splatter, the sanguine fluid stimulating its drive, more fuel to the furious flames.

The beast crashed against the cover, shoulder first, swinging the M60 over to spray the bastards cowering behind, the force of the large round in this proximity triggered small spurts of blood to launch out the backs of the now butchered bastards.

The attackers efficiency was massively stepped up, spurred on by the rampaging beast that broke cover to take the fight further to them, the stark beauty of the burning silver flare overhead guiding their aim.

Night Light threw herself hind legs first over the cover, landing on the soft cushiony corpses, firmly planting her hooves to break into another blurry gallop. The survivors from the gassing dragged themselves from the cloud hacking blood and bleeding from the nose and eyes, they’re bodies convulsing as they’re entire system shut down.

Only by sheer force of will and luck alone she managed to get a final glimpse of the radiant beacon before gunning down any son of a bitch that stood between her and the end of this fucking Bridge.

One leapt up in a blind fit of bravery letting a burst off into her, the rounds struck her chest, staggering her, the beast ignored it, pounding the shooter with a continuous volley, the sheer volume of force and flimsiness of his armour standing no chance, chunks flew from him as he staggered backwards, stumbling six paces before finally keeling.

The resistance began to show cracks.

The disheartened fighters gave less and less effort to aim before randomly firing, too scared of joining their dead comrades, or the ones they shot themselves to stop the whimpering and wailing. As the thick gas cloud diluted and spread outwards, many purist fighters in a blind panic opted for galloping away from it, into the incoming fire. They fared no better than those unfortunate enough to inhale it.

The beast hurled another canister, spraying another line of cover, screaming an indecipherable battle cry filled with profanity and rage. She threw herself over the cover catching one of the ponies square on the chest with a double hoofed buck. The M60 swiveled around the line, gunning down the alarmed and frightened soldiers, if you could call them that.

The beast rose to continue fire into the labyrinth, chucking another toxic gas canister into its midst. A bullet grazed her neck, stumbling her slightly, but she stepped forward, gunning him as a dozen rounds punched clean through his torso.

In one swoop, the flying blur cleared another line, the bodies tumbling over as the aerial pony’s rounds impacted hard into the concrete. Zipping back into the darkness a fraction of a second later.

The best chuckled menacingly to itself as it moved up to the clear line, laughing maniacally at the ground it took single hoofedly, the gas clouds further in masking her as her rounds tumbled through the haze.

There was no return fire, no pony who dared to challenge her, the long draping of ammunition around her was running low, hundreds upon hundreds of spent casings littering the path of death.

The only fire was theirs. Others following the gallant bloodthirsty mare, why wouldn’t they? She had cast them in the safety of darkness, lit their path and led the charge. No fear, no remorse and no mercy.

_____________________________________________________________________

The row boat below the bridge had stopped, a restless Trouble on his seventh cigarette. The small red embers the only light for miles on the putrid sea ‘water’ around them.

The scouts had stopped for some midnight munching of bread and water.

Trouble sat across from them scowling. This was taking way too long. He was beginning to understand why Cigaro had these assholes in a boat instead of up there fighting. They wouldn’t be any fucking good in a fight. Incompetent, lazy and a waste of resources. These guys had two perfectly fine SMGs and he could see the safety was off and they were poorly maintained. If he had a place among their ranks, he swore to himself he’d either kill them, or make soldiers out of them.

Trouble let his head sag backwards, he was gonna fucking snap at them otherwise. He focused on the raging battle above. Not so long ago was an explosion, a loud one. He guessed it as around a 84mm recoilless rifle.

But who was on the receiving end?

The place not so long ago was burning brighter than a napalm piss pot. Then blackness, the gunshots never ceased, perpetually droning throughout the night. There was a split second of silence not so long ago. Some genius had the idea of packing illumination rounds, or a flare gun.

He couldn’t help but wonder what the battle would be like with him up there. Maybe Worthy should have taken his place, The Red Queen was an undeniable edge. He may have been an ageing, fat, drunk with a drinking and smoking addiction, but he knew war longer than most of his family members.

Worthy was a good, no, he was an excellent killer. But direct action was never his strong suit, he was unbelievably proficient at night, well, when he isn’t in a bottle neck. Once the gunfire takes a nap for the night a lot of those poor bastards won’t wake up.

Trouble blinked, snapping from his bored state, there he was.

The pegasus.

Look at that son of a bitch move. The pegasus was a blur, whizzing through the air, rising and falling effortlessly evading the incoming fire. Bending his body to just narrowly escape oncoming fire, rolling and dipping. It was impressive, beyond impressive.

He had a weakness though, Trouble didn’t need an optician to know he couldn’t see for shit. If it weren’t for the illumination round he would have never have shown his face, Or rather, grace them with aerial support.

A good set of eyes would have been capable of working their densely packed lines] down, with whatever weapon he was boasting. Still, his prowess in the sky was compensation enough. Nimbler than any griffin he’s ever seen. Faster too.

There hasn’t been any cracks of a sniper’s rifle in a long while, must be too hot for them at the moment. It wouldn’t have come as a shock to him if Dawn had just shot some jet. She needed a long break from that stuff, the last thing he wanted was for her to become dependant on a drug.

The girl had strength, not like him, more like Worthy.

Trouble watched the tracer rounds fly out fruitlessly towards the pegasus, he was just too quick.

Until.

A twin flak cannon sent huge rounds up at the pegasus, the gun echoed louder than any other, it was stationed far back on The Bridge and by Celestia it was loud. The flak rounds were getting the best of the pegasus.

He began to lose his grace and balance, he nose dived, trying to swoop under The Bridge to escape, despite being fast, he wasn’t fast enough.

His body went limp, momentarily visible as the flak rounds exploding feet from him. He plummeted into the darkness, his body in a downward tumble.

“Ah fuck!” Trouble snapped, stiffening up.

The two scouts looked up from their meagre meal disinterestedly. Their heads snapping to the side as the pegasus impacted into the sea with a loud ‘Sploosh’ sending rippling waves through the liquid.

Trouble turned to the two scouts, biting down on his cigarette  hard enough to segregate the butt from the tobacco, his face was alarmed and unforgiving, he spat the butt out pointing to where the pegasus fell “Get the fuck over there!” he ordered.

The two scouts turned their heads back to Trouble, shrugging in unison before returning to eating.

Trouble’s eye twitched, “Are you fucking deaf as well as daft!? Row this hunk of shite over there now!” he barked at them, his hooves trembling in contained rage.

“He’s already dead.” the one on the right reasoned nonchalantly.

Trouble had enough, fuming at them, he pulled his white revolver and cocked the hammer, the long silencer making the pistol less than five inches from his stupid head.

“Get the fucking boat over there, now.” he warned in a dark and serious voice.

The scout didn’t so much as blink. Trouble didn’t appreciate his stoicism one bit.

The scout with the gun to his head sighed “We’re here to get you to the other side, not go fish out a corp-”

Phfump

“Gaaaaahhhhhh!” The scout screeched, Trouble fired a round through his kneecap. He didn’t need a knee to row.

He cocked the revolver, the loud mechanical click spoke more effectively and clearly than he ever could, he slowly turned his sights on the other scout, the fool was petrified in fear, staring right down the sights back to Trouble.

The other scout broke down in anguished cries and tears, writhing around clutching his devastated knee.

“Row.” he plainly stated, the malicious intents conveyed clearly if he were to repeat he’s idiot partner’s mistake.

The other scout forced his partner to take the oar, the two together, despite one groaning in agony with every stroke were moving faster than they ever had before, the limp body of the pegasus was resting on the top of the sea, face down. The liquid that covered his back stuck to him.

Trouble grimaced, these cunts could’ve killed him.

The boat quickly pulled up alongside the pink pegasus. The limp body was clad in a shabby metal armour altered to accommodate wings. Trouble gripped the poor bastard by the shoulders and pulled him aboard.

He covered his mouth with his sleeve. Turning his head in disgust.

Sickly green worms had worked their way into the alcoves of his armour, one trying to tunnel itself through his thankfully closed lips. His front was matted in the putrid liquid. If there was one place he’s never want to be in his life, it would be at the bottom of the Germane sea.

Trouble wiped his eyes clear of the sludge for him, flicking the sickening liquid off his digits.

Trouble took out his flask of his own personal favourite drink, it was 95% alcohol but he left his fucking water behind.

He rested his hoof on the stallion’s jugular vein, it was selfish, but he didn’t want to waste his drink on a corpse, there was a pulse, it was dark but he was fairly positive he was breathing.

He uncapped the canteen and slowly poured the clear liquid into the stallion’s face, kid couldn’t have been twenty. He had a stupidly large snow white mohawk haircut, he was amazed the flak didn’t trim it for him. It washed off most of the worms, the tainted insects writhed and wriggled on the floor of the boat, the powerful alcoholic drink scorching them.

The armour was heavily impacted, shrapnel littered it’s skin, chunks of molten metal and concussive impacts had ruined it. How this kid’s face was intact was nothing short of divine intervention.

Trouble wrestled at the fastenings, freeing the pegasus of his metallic prison, he tossed the metal plates at the scouts and took a healthy swig from the flask himself.

He rested the pegasus gently against the side of the boat, staring at him. He was light, he guessed him to be about 285 pounds, forty below the 325 pound par for stallions. He had decent muscle tone, and above average body fat.

He was small, just about an inch or two taller than Dawn, sub sized stallion. But that contributed to his nimbleness and agility.

Trouble looked from him back to the two scouts, his expression hardening.

“What are you waiting for? Get rowing you cunts.”

_____________________________________________________________________

Back on The Bridge, Rico worriedly followed Night Light’s charge, gunning all those panicked fighters who leapt so eagerly from cover to try and unload a magazine into her.

Night Light had been raving and yelling indecipherably the entire time she was blocked from progressing due to the gas cloud. Firing frustrated bursts through, her cries of vexation escalating as they received no rebuttal.

The only thing that had been heard was the boom of the flak cannon that made short work of their air support. He was assumed dead and the only thing to honour his memory was a few disgruntled murmurings.

Worthy had halted Dawn at the barricade, waiting for the firefight to blow over, from the sounds alone Dawn severely began to have doubts about her own odds of survival let alone this plan pulling off.

The radiance of the light had put her in a state of sorrowful wonderment. This situation was desperate, dire and soul shredding. That light, whatever it had been, was beautiful beyond comparison. She wished it would linger forever, but even now it was slowly petering out, the beacon sullenly descending from its heavenly perch. Dying.

It struck a chord deep within her, it made her think of her mother, what she would’ve been like if she survived her, what she looked like, what her name was.

All she has... Had, was an abusive father, who never wanted her to begin with, and constantly reminded her of that sickening fact every day of her worthless existence.

Worthy, the cold calculated killer even stopped to admire it. Silence reigned, only the quiet sizzling sound of the star hovering above them mattered, the screaming and howling of one particularly horrific pony died out, along with the bursts of heavy machine gun fire.

Worthy patted her shoulder, snapping her from her trance, he made a head gesture for her to follow. The cloaked pony made off through the barricade in a brisk stride, silently running through. Dawn followed sheepishly, still in an emotionally sensitive state.

She carefully sidestepped the blood puddles, dabbing her eyes with her hooves she gingerly avoided the corpses... There was so fucking many of them.

All their eyes dead and devoid of any life, the fires of their life blown out by the brisk wind of a rifle round. She wondered who cared for these ponies, who’d cry for their corpse, cry for their lack of life, cry for their hopeless and dead eyes.

She had to block these thoughts out, she swallowed her sadness, now was not the time for tears, now was the time for actions, it was her or them.

Her or them.

What gave her the right to be more deserving of life than ten, or twenty or even a hundred of them? Marizona Springs was a massacre, but these ponies, they did nothing. Warranted no such death.

She began to think, maybe the corpse pyres weren’t just for the attackers.

Goddesses, there was a lot of blood. Worthy zipped up the stairs for the catwalk, it was unoccupied for now, at least, not by anything living.

Worthy stomped over the corpses, Dawn had a little more respect for the dead, she stepped over them, careful not to lay a hoof on them, or look them in the eyes. Worthy got to the edge where the metal walls turned to sandbags, he instead doing as before, skulking out low, he slid down the metal wall onto his rump.

“What are you doing?” Dawn whispered anxiously, she was half afraid if she spoke too loudly she’d wake the dead.

“Resting.” Came the immediate answer.

Dawn cocked an eyebrow “Resting?” she asked in bewilderment.

“It’s been a long night, it’ll be even longer tomorrow, depending on my brother’s work rate.” Worthy said as informatively and kindly as he could manage to voice it.

“I can’t sleep here!” she objected in a hiss.

Worthy rose an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

Dawn shuddered, “There’s... ponies, everywhere.” she whispered through clenched teeth, scanning the catwalk for the blood and bodies.

Worthy sighed, “I was going to suggest making a bed of corpses for you, but I suppose that’s out of the question now, isn’t it?”

Dawn blinked, he couldn’t have been serious.

Worthy stared at her for several seconds, she was very squeamish for a ‘killer’.

“OK, if ‘I’ as in ‘me’ go down into the building sections, clear the corpses for you and let you sleep on a desk would you be happy?” he asked almost threateningly.

“That’d be perfect.” she answered without thinking, adding a nod for good measure. She slept on rougher, pointier things than desks.

“Great.” Worthy grumbled to himself getting less than elegantly back onto his hooves.

Dawn smiled to herself, or maybe it was Worthy that made her smile, no matter, the disgruntled stallion stomped down the steps into the office below, Dawn gingerly followed. The majority of the group were on the edge of some kind of sick yellow cloud, cast in the pure light. She imagined the sleeping alcoves would be rather cramped. She grimaced at the thought of sleeping in the same cold secluded metal wall room with twenty bloodied soldiers, the stifling heat from their breath and the perpetual fidgeting. One or two pairs may even get... frisky.

That’d be awkward, she didn’t know much about that stuff, or how it really worked. But the sounds are rather... discomforting.

Worthy was dragging a corpse out by the mane with his teeth, jerking the corpse over to the sandbags.

“Things I fucking do for family.” he grumbled quietly, going back for another corpse.

Dawn looked at him curiously, a mixture of disdain and appreciation. Dragging bodies with his teeth, teeth.

“Beeches! Help the sniper with the fucking corpses! Over the edge!” Cigaro barked from behind her, Dawn turned to look at her. Damn. The green middle aged mare’s left cheek had a large gash on the bone, the fluid building on her jaw line before running off her chin.

She stomped over, slinging a corpse over her back and carting it off, she was totally devout to the task at hoof. A dozen ponies from Phoenix in their distinct black armour got to hauling away the perforated defenders in droves.  The once pale tunics of the soldiers now matched their weak blood-red ballistics vests in colour, leaving a trail as they were dragged off.

Cigaro dumped the body she was carrying over the railing of The Bridge. That was hell of a drop.

“Twelve ponies on watch!” she snapped, her face curled into a snarl, “Shift sleeps in four hours! Any twelve! That goes for you private fuckers too!”

“Yes ma’am.” the phoenix ponies droned in a disheartened  unison.

Where were Rico and Night Light? Dawn looked around herself, among the crowds of tired, dreary ponies drunk with fatigue she didn’t spot the two.

She looked back to the gas cloud, standing there was the silhouettes of several forlorn figures, one broken down on its knees, the one to its right, hunched over, giving a comforting hoof on the shoulder with the one on her left standing stoic, watching the proceedings.

Dawn blinked, in thought, she slowly lifted a hoof to begin trotting over to them before she was halted by Worthy, his grim mask back on.

“I got your accommodations.” his voice sending a chill down her neck, the mask murdering all goodness and emotions from his tone. Even a sentence so lackluster as that creeped her out.

She gave a stiff nod, glancing back at the trio before following Worthy back into the quickly filling structure.

Night Light was on her knees, her body heavily exerted to the point of pain. Every fibre of her being ached from the taxing quarter hit of Bruiser. She had the worst migraine of her life, the radiant light she produced driving nails through her eyes.

Her knees and elbowed trembled under her, the beast was gone, it fell asleep, not before beating the inside of her skull bloody.

She groaned in exhaustion and anguish.

Rico at her side chuckled, every note of merriment causing her to grit her teeth as lances of pain surged into her temples. If she had an ounce of energy she would’ve bashed his crotch with the M60, then she’d have her turn to laugh.

“And that was a QUARTER of the regular dose!” he joyously exclaimed. Night Light shut her eyes even tighter.

“Do you have to yell?” she whispered in a hoarse voice.

Rico leaned in close, pulling a understanding smile, rubbing her shoulder gently. He drew her short breath an inch from her ear “Yes!” he shouted before breaking into a fit of laughs. Night Light lost balance, falling flat out on her torso, her limbs shooting out from under her.

She didn’t have it in her to reply, or strike out against him, all she could do was feel bitter anger at his antics and swear to herself her revenge would be swift and sweet.

“So who’d you say you were again, handsome?” Rico asked the charcoal stallion across from him with the mutilated face with a wide grin.

Way Paver snorted, smirking “I’m, or was a Marizona Ranger, one of the six that revolted, along with that mare you just drugged.”

“Well shit,” Rico rose his eyebrows, “this is a heartfelt reunion.” he sarcastically intoned rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t think she made it out alive.” Way Paver remarked looking at the down and out mare, she must’ve passed out by now.

“I only met her like, two or three days ago, she seems pretty OK. Maybe a little too hot for this shooting game.”

Way Paver gave a soft laugh “Don’t chance saying that to her face buddy, what’s your name?” he asked slowly approaching Rico, keeping his one good eye on the unconscious mare, if Rico wasn’t standing right next to him he would’ve dived into her, hugged her tightly and tell her how much he missed her.

Too bad she was already out cold, best contain himself, for a while longer at least.

“Rico,” he said offering his hoof, “or as it will say on my tombstone ‘Ricochet le dèmon’, dumb name I know.” he smiled.

Way Paver took his hoof and shook it “Way Paver, just Way Paver.” He furrowed his brow, staring at Night Light’s limp body “What the fuck was that stuff you gave her? A quarter hit of what?”

“Bruiser,” he chirped, “I hate to be the drug hipster but unless you spend a lot of time in the back alleys of Phoenix, then I doubt you’ve heard of it.”

“Bruiser eh?” he mumbled to himself scratching his chin. Rico continued without prompt “A full hit puts you in a deep twenty hour sleep after it, and the stuff you see and hear and even think is just... Grim.”

“And you gave this to her, why?” he asked narrowing his eyes.

The corners of Rico’s lips curled into a small smile “It was hardly like I craved some intimidating sex, she was exhausted after the flood lights, so I gave her a little boost.” he articulated with a slight grin.

Way Paver had enough of this mock interrogation, his next question was ‘why not you?’, but honestly, the last thing he wanted was for a team member of Night Light’s to assume he was trying to get a rise out of him.

“Let’s get her inside.” Way Paver sighed, hefting her up by forehooves to dump her across his back, “Just like old times.” he mumbled quietly smiling nostalgically back at the mare.

“Ain’t you cute?” Rico snorted grinning at him.

“I was a vet when she joined, never seen a mare go up the ranks so quickly. She had a tendency of getting riddled or blown up.” he laughed, lost in his reminiscing.

“Well as far as I know, she only kept the ‘getting riddled’ part. That armour she’d wearing is some tough shit.” he drawled out, nodding on the last two words for emphasis.

“Nothing but the finest for our rangers.” he sighed, trotting off towards the barricade with her on his back.

Rico stood alongside him, matching his pace, “So, what are you going to say to her?”

“I’m going to say... anything that comes to mind, I thought she was dead, and I’d like to think the feeling was mutual.” Way Paver answered, keeping his voice friendly and calm.

A loud rumble was heard from above, signalling a sudden powerful downpour. The two stallions averted their gaze to the sky, the clouds dousing them in the heavy slugs of water, falling in innumerable quantities. Thunder rumbled, and lightning crack, sending a radiant bolt of blue lightning over the sea.

The droplets diluted the drying blood, the gathering water with a pinkish tint to it as it ran past their hooves, the two stallions looked to each other, no words need be exchanged.

Inside the left side of the barricade Dawn was curled up into a ball on a small metal desk in the far corner, there was about a dozen in with her, ponies running frantically to and fro to drop sandbags at the entrance to the metal hut, stopping the rain from flooding their sleeping space. Worthy sat next to her, back rested against the wall beneath her, mask on, staring at the rushed ponies, the pinkish water slowly seeping towards him.

Dawn listened to the ponies shouting out, barking orders at one another over the sound crushing power of the rain, the thunder rumbling and the lightning cracking, the gentle pitter pat of rain on the metal above relaxing her.

Worthy’s brooding presence stopped others from coming too close to their corner, Dawn watched as ponies paired off once the cover was sufficient, observing in curiosity as they chose a spot and got in very close proximity to one another, holding each other tight as they exchanged nuzzles.

It was... Thought provoking.

Ponies from all factions, it didn’t matter, one would approach the other, have a few short words, smile and lay down together.

Worthy remained stoic next to her, unwavering.

All the ponies in their hut had paired off, the view to the hut across the way was scrambled by the heavy rain, all but one cyan earth pony stallion was laying down. Poor guy, he stood isolated in the very centre of the room looking around himself at the various couple enjoying each others warmth. His soaked two tone green and yellow cropped mane. He was one of the few who dashed outside for the sandbags.

His downtrodden expression flickered with hope as his teal eyes fell on Dawn, a ray of hope in his eyes perking up instantly.

Her heart stopped.

Oh.

The stallion forced a smile, tugging at his tight combat armour’s collar. He approached her, doing his best to keep his eyes off the dark and brooding figure that gave off an air of belligerence as he drew near.

Dawn was nervous, her body stiffened as she rose her head off the table readying herself to speak to him, but she wasn’t just nervous, she was a little excited and hopeful too.

“Hey.” he nervously greeted her, with a more natural smile.

Dawn blinked, finding her own lips twitching upwards “Hey.” she greeted quietly in response.

“So uh, I was wondering,” the stallion anxiously began scratching behind his mane as he gave nervous laughs.

“Yeah?” Dawn asked, raising herself a little, smiling broadly.

“If, you, uh,” he looked her in the eyes, a small blush barely visible on his cyan cheeks.

“Touch her, I’ll break every bone in your limbs and hurl you off the side of this Bridge.” Worthy warned in a very serious tone, his head slowly tilting up to look the stallion in the eyes.

Worthy startled him, causing him to jump and back pedal, his heart sank and his ears fell low and timid soon as he stared into Worthy’s mask. The menacing teeth and eyes, he was his own frightened reflection in the tinted visor.

“S-sorry.” he meekly apologized before heading to the furthest corner of the hut, to lay alone in solitude, hugging himself tightly, facing the wall, away from the coupled and Worthy’s glare.

Dawn deflated, giving a soft sigh.

Why did he have to do that?

“You’re sixteen, and this is a loveless battlefield, you need to learn that your weapon is all the comfort you need. My apologies, but this,” he said looking over the room, “is not how it is truly. They should be scared, sleeping with their backs to the wall, facing the door. Weapon at the ready.” Worthy whispered.

Dawn sighed again, covering her face with her hooves.

A moment later the uncomfortable headphones from the red tape player were secured over her head, she didn’t look up. A moment later the soft crackling of the headphones filled her ears, along with the strange accented voice.

“Some would say you are obsessed with death, how do you comment?”

Worthy chuckled mirthlessly to himself, turning into a fit of weak coughs, he cleared his throat before speaking.

“I’d say they’re right. Dead right. They’ve never been righter had they said blood is red and that shit stinks. That fire is warmth and ice is cold, I. Am. Obsessed.” he drawled out in a dark, raspy voice.

“I did a job once, it was a long time ago against some baron of capitalism, rich, vindictive genius who exploited the weak and made a fortune from their toil, I admired him.” he finished before breaking into meek hacks.

He gasped to hurriedly regain what air he could before continuing, “I spent a year gunning for him, he devoted one percent of his focus to me, he knew there was a shadow in his wake, but didn’t have time to waste killing it with light. A year. Twelve long grueling months, and I couldn’t kill him, every day he came that one inch closer to me, closing in on me even as I licked the wounds from another failed attempt. Part of me didn’t want to kill him, couldn’t.”

“Why Not?” The peculiar accented voice asked.

“He was a genius, and he had so much to teach me. I studied how he conducted business, it was art, like a finely crafted instrument, a well oiled machine, a work of art. I could have aborted the job, cut my losses and made the same money offered in four months. But no.” Worthy stopped to take a few rattling breaths.

“I am. Obsessed. And my latest obsession, is this place. The darkness, the blood, the battle for survival, the inmates are often bigger beats than those that lurk in its depths. I like it here, out there I’m hated and abused, outcast and rejected from society. But in here, I’m the monster I always wished I could be.”

“I realized something here, and I thank you, thank you deeply for it.”

“I used to think, I could only ever act like a monster, that I’d never truly be one.”

“But, I realized, the monster was never conjured in my mind or yours, no, it was born by those who labelled me as such.”

“I am what I always wanted to be.”

“And you, the righteous and moral of the world, created me.”

“What have you done?”

Dawn lifted her head from her hooves, small streams of tears pouring from her eyes, she blinked them away looking for Worthy, he was gone.

A howling wind had picked up outside, rustling the loose metal as it swept the rain sideways. Past the rumbles of thunder, through the cracks of lightning, beyond the howls of the wind and muffling rain, far away screams echoed.

Her mouth hung open as her ears strained to distinguish them from the noises of the raging elements, faint and desperate, poor souls far away, were contending with a monster.

And she pitied them.

Footnote: Level up.

New Perk: Commando -- While using a rifle (or similar two-handed weapon), your accuracy in S.A.T.S. is significantly increased.