Darkness crept over us before we knew it, only this time we didn’t have the luxury of a shack to shield us from the things that go bump in the night. Using a lighter she’d taken from Stable 121, Jerry started a fire to keep us warm. Chalk another one up to Jerry’s special talent for helping out a great deal. The fire crackled into life, hungrily consuming the few dry sticks we’d plucked up and piled together for it. We huddled close to bask in its warmth in silence, staring into the flickering flames. Jerry yawned and leaned her head against my shoulder while I stared at the pip-buck. It had some sort of built-in map that was somehow updating as we journeyed through the wasteland. If it could be trusted, we were making good progress based upon our distance from the stable.

“You can get some sleep. I’ll stay up and keep an eye on things,” I said with a smile. She made a half mumbled argument even as her eyes drifted closed. She lowered her head, resting her chin on her hooves and was out almost instantly. I stared into the fire, nudging the burning sticks occasionally as the mood struck me. I was somewhat surprised we hadn’t run into any of the other escapees from our group, even though I knew they didn’t necessarily flee in the same direction we had. I guess I had just been holding out hope that there would be somepony else. Maybe that was years of being just one of a huge group.

I glanced down at Jerry where she slept next to me and smiled. Maybe keeping it small wasn’t so bad.

I sat in silence for a couple of hours, letting Jerry get her well-deserved rest. To pass the time I fiddled with the pip-buck, trying to figure out what it could do and how I could make it do it. I spent a lot of time looking at the various readouts on the status screen, all of them telling me just how little the magic bandages had healed from my fight with Bruiser and to seek proper medical attention. I smirked.

“At least Lash isn’t here to stop me this time, huh,” I muttered quietly. Jerry shifted slightly, but said nothing. Not that I really expected her to. She was exhausted, and not as used to the pain of a beating like I was. She needed her rest. When she woke up on her own, then I could rest. Absently I twisted a knob at the top of the pip-buck and a sultry mare’s voice filtered slightly by static spilled from a small speaker set in the device.

“-d evening, fillies and gentlecolts. It is the dead of night and that’s when the dead come out and play. Music that is. Your ever-living host, Ghost Widow here, to interrupt our usual playlist with a bit of news for all my fellow wastelanders.

“Keep an eye out, pun not intended, for bands of Gouged Eye skulking around out near Deepwater Gulch. I know you folks there are used to all sorts of danger, but still, a heads up is a mite better than a heads off. Am I right?” The voice over the radio paused. After a moment she cleared her throat. “That… made more sense in my head. But seriously, stay safe when venturing out of the Gulch for the time being.

“Likewise, a little birdy told me that EAF tolls will be rising this month. So hold on to a few more caps than normal when traveling their toll roads if you don’t want to be hassled by those crooks. And yes, I know they can get this broadcast just as easily as anypony else. But what’re they gonna do? You can’t threaten a dead mare.

“To finish off this batch of news, we’re still getting unconfirmed reports of dragons from some of the outlying settlements. As always I ask that you relax. Just because you hear roars doesn’t mean there’s dragons roaming about the Badlands. Plenty of beasties roar nowadays, including many that I really wish wouldn’t.

“But that’s enough of this old mare’s rambling. Before we get back to the music, I want to remind you lovely scavengers that if you can find new songs, I’d be more than willing to part with some caps to add them to my meager collection. It’s just as much for you all as it is for me, I promise. And to prove it, an enterprising group sent me one of their songs, so here’s the Wasteland Wailers with ‘When The Sun Comes Back’.”

The mare’s voice was replaced with silence for a moment then the music began to play. Another mare’s lovely voice began to drift from the speaker accompanied by instruments. The song was surprisingly upbeat and I found myself bobbing my head along with the music. When the song ended, Jerry lifted her head and yawned, rubbing sleepily at her eyes. I switched the radio off and smiled at her. “Sleep well?” I asked.

“How long was I out?” she muttered, only barely awake.

“A few hours. You really needed the rest,” I answered. She reached out with a hoof, weakly punching my shoulder.

“Free… you were ‘sposed to wake me…” she whinnied. “You need to get some rest too.”

I shrugged. “I’m okay. Did you get enough rest?” Jerry glared at me, fixing me with angry green eyes. I leaned away instinctively. “Right, well… uhh… guess I’ll take a quick nap…” I muttered as I crossed my forelegs and lowered my chin onto them. I stared quietly at the flickering fire as Jerry stoked it, rolling her head on her shoulders as she woke herself fully. I exhaled slowly, my eyes drifted closed, and I slipped into blissful, exhausted slumber.

I awoke to muttering voices, a soft chuckle and the tantalizing smell of cooking meat. My eyes opened slowly, as the vague remnants of a dream disappeared into the aether. I laid still, listening. I could make out Jerry’s voice, muffled by sleep numbed ears. But there was another with her. A stallion, if I had to guess. Somepony had found us in the night. I tensed, wondering just how quickly I could unsling Liberator.

Calm down, Free. Take in the surroundings first, I thought to myself. I opened my eye a crack and peered around. The fire was still going strong, perhaps stronger than before. A makeshift spit had been set up over it with a skewered shank of cooking meat. Jerry still sat next to me, but she looked across the fire at a figure. Dingy metal armor hung over his shoulders, partially covered in tanned leather, and a sun faded wide-brimmed hat rested atop his head. Lying next to him, propped up on a pack was a large hunting rifle.

“Your friend’s awake,” he said, nodding his head in my direction. Jerry looked down at me and smiled warmly, immediately quieting the worry that had begun to form. Quieting, but not silencing it completely. I sat up slowly, unsure of what was going on.

“Hey, g’morning,” she said, cheerfully. She gestured with a hoof at the stallion across from us. “Free, this is…” she started, pausing and scrunched up her face as she tried to remember. Perhaps taking pity on her, the stallion cleared his throat.

“Trapper. Pleasure.” he said flatly with a gravelly voice.

“Right, sorry. Trapper. He’s a hunter and he offered us some food in exchange for a place by the fire for the night,” she continued. I cast my glance back toward the stallion. He was carefully turning the spit, bubbling fat dripping from the meat and sizzling on the burning sticks and brush. I glanced back at Jerry, asking her the obvious question with my eyes. Her brow furrowed and after a moment her eyes widened as she understood my unspoken question. “He’s safe. He’s still being friendly even after I pointed my gun at him.”

“I’m safe. Ya’ll weren’t,” he said, not taking his eyes off the cooking meat. “Ya’ll shouldn’t be so brazen with a fire an’ no shelter out here. Plenty o’ folks would just shoot ya and take yer possessions rather’n talk all nice like.”

“So why did you?” I asked. His eyes peeled away from the cooking meat, scanned me up and down and then returned to the task at hoof.

“Guess I’m ol’ fashioned like that,” he muttered. I nodded slowly and turned to peer at Jerry. She was intently focused on the meat, as if under its sway.

“Don’t give me that look,” she said, never even breaking eye contact with the food.

“What look? I don’t have a look,” I muttered, glancing back at the stranger.

“Ya gave’r a look,” Trapper added.

“Fine,” I grunted. “I gave you a look. Why didn’t you wake me? This guy could be some sorta lunatic and you invite him over for dinner?” That got her to look at me, and I immediately regretted my success in the matter.

“I did try to wake you!” she said, “But you sleep like the dead! And I’m relatively confident that Trapper isn’t a lunatic! He called out several times to get my attention as he approached, kept his rifle slung, and never made any sudden movements! And, HE is the one who offered us some of HIS food!” I glanced across the fire at the strange stallion, who smirked but kept his mouth shut.

“Fine, I’m sorry,” I muttered. I wasn’t, but it was better than the argument brewing. “I guess I’m just… paranoid…”

“A lil’ bit o’ paranoia is a healthy thing in the Badlands,” Trapper muttered, “Helps ya avoid... undesirables.” He cocked his head to the side and a small knife levitated out of his saddlebags. My blood ran cold and I was on my hooves in an instant. He glanced up at me coolly. “Relax. Ain’t fer ya’ll. It’s fer the meat,” he said as the knife slowly moved to the roasting shank and cut into it. An enticing aroma spilled from the meat along with savory juices that sputtered on the fire. It smelled amazing. Inwardly I was clamoring for something better than centuries old food or the barely edible food-like... things given to the slaves. Slowly, I sat back down.

“What is that?” I asked curiously. The stallion looked up at me and he smirked.

“Ya’ll ever have brahmin?” he asked casually as he levitated a steaming slice of meat over to Jerry. She shook her head and held out her hooves to accept the proffered food.

“We... “ she started, thinking her words over carefully. “We were never so lucky.”

The stallion nodded, apparently understanding and offered a piece to me as well. A war broke out inside me between my rational, if a tad bit paranoid mind, telling me not to trust this stranger, and my stomach asking me what the harm could be in enjoying what might just be the finest smelling food I’d ever have a chance to eat. In the end, hunger won out. I held out my hooves and Trapper placed the steaming slice of meat in them before cutting himself a small piece. It was hot and I passed it between my hooves to cool it before biting down. Succulent juices burst from each bite and for a brief moment nothing else mattered but this. I allowed my eyes to close and savored each bite until it was gone. When I opened them again both Jerry and Trapper were staring at me.

“What?” I asked. Jerry was smiling wide and Trapper was shaking with silent laughter. “What?” I repeated.

“You moaned like you were having sex while you ate!” she said before breaking down into uncontrollable giggles. I felt the blood rush to my face and looked away.

“I… I did not!” I uttered defensively, but Jerry was too busy laughing to hear. I struggled to come up with something to calm her, but all I managed was a mumbled “I-it was just… the best I’ve ever had…” causing Jerry to lose it all over again. Even Trapper let out a guffaw which he diplomatically placed a hoof over his mouth to try and stop. I could feel my cheeks burning as it dawned on me just what I’d said. Sweet Celestia, just take me now. It was a solid couple of minutes before either of them was able to look my way without cracking up all over again.

Finally, Trapper cleared his throat. “There’s plenty more,” he said. He glanced at Jerry before adding; “That is, if’n ya got the stamina.” Jerry sputtered and flopped over laughing, kicking at the air as she held her stomach. I let out a sigh and held out my hoof for more. Might as well enjoy the good food while being the butt of the joke.

One incredibly awkward meal and several jokes later we were moving again. Jerry and I followed a pace behind Trapper as we slogged through drying mud. Despite my reservations, I was laying a certain amount of trust on the stallion. He’d offered us food (very good food) and now was leading us toward a place a few days trot away where he claimed we’d be able to sell the stuff we’d scavenged from the stable.

“So,” Jerry started, “what can you tell us about… the wasteland?” Trapper glanced over his shoulder at us.

“In general? Or ‘bout the Badlands in particular?” he asked. Jerry and I exchanged looks, the pair of us likely thinking the same thing.

“You’ve been pretty honest with us so far,” I started. Jerry looked down at the mud beneath her hooves, uncertainty on her face. “So I’ll be honest with you.” I took a deep breath, but Trapper stopped and held up a hoof.

“Lemme stop ya,” he said, taking the wind from my sails. I exhaled slowly as he turned to look at the two of us. “Yer prolly gonna tell me yer both escaped slaves. But, it’s kinda obvious.” He lifted his hoof to point at me. “I’ve been around awhile and I know whip scars when I see ’em.” I tensed, my paranoia amping back up. He must’ve noticed, because he waved me down. “Relax. I dun care none for slavers. But it seemed like y’all were tryin’ ta keep it secret. If’n ya want that, ya might wanna cover up your scars.”

I twisted and glanced at the jagged pink lines that crossed my hide. He was right. We would stand out amongst pretty much anypony we came across.

“I assume ya’ll was gonna ask about survivin’ in the wasteland?” he continued. Jerry nodded for the both of us. “Can ya’ll read? There’s a book from up north that’s perfect for this,” he added.

“Not well. Educating us wasn’t very high on Fortune’s list,” I muttered. Trapper frowned, but nodded.

“That makes this a bit more difficult,” he said, as he turned and started walking again. “Well, I can give ya some basics. First, the wasteland don’t forgive. Ya give it an inch and it’ll take a mile and then some. Ya got weapons, ya best git comfortable wit’ usin’ ‘em.” It was sound advice. Bruiser had very nearly killed the both of us. It was only a random fluke that I’d managed to get the upper hoof on him. That said, swinging around a hunk of metal and concrete didn’t seem to require the same level of skill as firing a gun.

“Second, an’ this’ll werk fer coverin’ them scars, ya’ll need some armor,” he continued. To emphasize his point he lifted a hoof and banged it against his metal armor. “Anythin’ is better than nothin’. Stingers, teeth, claws, bullets... Trust me when I say ya want something between you and it.”

“You left whips out of that list,” I muttered. Trapper glanced back, with a frown on his face.

“Right… sorry…” he muttered. “Look, work with me here. I ain’t usually one fer educatin’ folks but I’m doin’ what I can.” I lowered my head and nodded for him to continue. “Ya’ll are loaded for bear with stuff. I guarantee ya someone in Rust Rail with fork over a lot of caps to get their hooves on it. I also guarantee someone else will be willin’ ta take them caps fer armor. Once ya got yer gear, where ya go is up ta you.”

Up to us. The concept was so foreign that it seemed more than a little daunting. “Any suggestions?” Jerry asked. Trapped looked up at the sky briefly and then shrugged.

“I guess it depends. Most folks don’t stick ‘round Rust Rail more’n a few days, but there are some that like it enough ta stay. I got myself a little shack tucked somewhere nice ‘n safe that I call home. Its close enough ta do some tradin’ at Rust Rail, but secluded enough that I ain’t bothered by slavers or other… undesirables. Can’t say I’ve ever ventured much further though.”

Jerry and I were quiet as we thought over the information. We weren’t terribly far from The Dig, so staying at this Rust Rail seemed like a poor decision. Still though, if we could get some supplies there, at least we’d be better set for the journey ahead. “What about things or places to avoid?” I asked.

Trapper chuckled. “Well… that one ain’t so simple ta answer. The Badlands are chock-full of factions, both big and small. Some are okay, and some ain’t. Personally, I make it my business ta avoid groups of three or more. As fer critters… I tend ta go by the same rule. Much of what the wasteland has ta offer a pony is lethal.” Trapper glanced over his shoulder at us, deliberately looking past his rifle’s barrel. “There ain’t no catch all trick ta survival. Ya jus’ do yer best and hope the Goddesses are watchin’ over ya.”

For the next two days Trapper led us in the direction of what passed for civilization in the wasteland. Jerry talked Trapper’s ear off about what to expect when surviving in the wasteland, asking him question after question that he patiently answered. Mostly, I just followed behind in silence, listening but not asking any questions of my own.

It’s not that I wasn’t as invested in our survival. Far from it, in fact. Trapper seemed to know so much about the wasteland, and Jerry hung intently on his every word. I tucked away the odd nugget of information that I heard, but the majority he had to say was over this poor hole digging pony’s head. Truth be told, I was mildly jealous at the way Jerry hung on his every word. I didn’t have any such words of wisdom to offer unless it came to doing your best to ignore your own split flesh and infected wounds.

“So…” Jerry said, shaking me from my own thoughts, “once it’s been cooked, it should be safe to eat?” she asked. Trapper nodded sagely.

“Yeah, but it still tastes like crap,” he said with a chuckle. “Better to avoid it altogether unless you’re starving. But, it’ll do in a pinch.” Jerry nodded as Trapper looked forward. “Ah, just over this rise and you’ll see her.” Jerry glanced at the edge of the dune we were traversing and quickened her pace as excitement took hold. I smiled and hurried after her, leaving Trapper to patiently follow behind. Jerry hit the top of the dune and stopped.

“Oh, wow…” she breathed. As I crested the hill next to her, my gaze fell upon Rust Rail and it was immediately evident where it got its name. Several sets of rust coated railways crossed the ground leading towards the sprawling settlement. At one time it was likely the only railyard in the Badlands. Freight containers still sat upon the tracks where they’d been left to rust centuries before. Now, the few that were still intact had been cut open and makeshift shops set up inside them. A few had even been welded together or stacked. Flickering neon signs topped the larger ‘stores’ proudly boasting guns, ammo and everything in between.

While a few shops were set up in stacked and rusting freight cars, most were simple market stalls set up under awnings. At the center of it all, where the rails converged was a large, ramshackle building. I could see the remnants of flatbed train cars making up its walls and a large, painted sign that simply read ‘Violet’s’

Ponies of all types trotted along the rows of stores, browsing the offered wares. Dotted amongst them were the odd shapes of creatures I didn’t recognize. A trio of griffons in menacing armor worked their way through the crowd towards a weaponsmith. A little ways from them a hulking, armored form parted the crowd like a blade as it marched down the row with a purpose. The faint din of too many voices talking at once reached us, even this far from the settlement.

“There ya have’r,” Trapper said as he came up behind us. “Rust Rail. Down there ya should be able ta sell yer salvage and get any gear ya need. Ya might even find someone ta continue leadin’ ya through the wasteland in Violet’s, though they ain’t usually cheap.”

Jerry lunged at Trapper and pulled him into a tight hug. He looked tense and perhaps a little nervous. Carefully he reached up and patted her back. “A-alright, turn loose now,” he said. Jerry complied and took a step back to smile warmly at him.

“Thank you. For everything,” she said. “We would’ve just been wandering aimlessly without you.”

Trapper chuckled and started down the hill towards the settlement. “Wanderin’ yes. Aimless, no. You would’a figured yerselves out in time. Take care now,” he said as he trotted off. Jerry and I watched until he disappeared among the crowd of ponies.

We followed not long after, silent as we were bombarded with the calls from vendors extolling the virtues of their wares compared to the competitors around them. Dozens of voices, all of them crying out to be heard at once.

“Hey! You there! That armor looks like it wouldn’t protect you from an underweight radroach! Step right in and take a gander at what proper armor looks like!

“Ya call that a gun! That’s a pea shooter! Now this! THIS is a GUN! And if ya got the caps it can be YOUR gun!”

“Say friend, you’re lookin’ a little green around the gills. Oh goddesses, you actually have gills! Luckily for you, I have rad-away in stock!”

The press of bodies brought The Dig to the front of my mind. Too many ponies in too cramped a space. It was also every bit as loud as The Dig, though here it was the chorus of voices all talking at once rather than the constant clatter of tools on stone. I stepped through the crowd, my size and my weight allowing me to easily direct myself through the mass of ponies even as I had to force a path for myself. Jerry followed closely behind, unable to force her slender form through the crowd with quite as much ease but using my wake to her advantage. I kept my eyes peeled. Trapper had only said that we could sell our stuff here, but not to who or where they might be. All the stores seemed alike to me. Sure, some were big and some were small, but at a basic level they were the same.

I stopped mid-step, causing Jerry to bump into me. I gestured with my head and cut to the right through the ponies with Jerry in tow. The rusting cargo container was splayed open, a wooden facade added to the front and a flickering neon sign overhead read ‘Brass Tax’. Jerry and I stepped through the door and immediately the volume dipped to a more manageable constant rumbling. Inside was a large steel cage behind which hung a wide array of guns that I couldn’t begin to name or understand. A bored looking unicorn sat behind a counter in the cage, his attention fully engrossed with a somewhat burned magazine. We stood in awkward silence as the unicorn’s horn flared and a page carefully turned without a word. After a long moment, I cleared my throat.

“Excuse m-” I started, but the unicorn cut me off.

“No caps. No service,” he grunted without looking up from his magazine. My mouth hung open for a moment before I looked over at Jerry. She look irritated, but shrugged and gestured for me to continue. I turned back to the unicorn and took a step forward.

“We’re not looking to buy. We’re looking to sell actually,” I said. The unicorn’s eyes peeled away from the magazine and scanned Jerry and I up and down briefly before returning to his magazine.

“Ya don’t have anythin’ I want. Scram,” he said with a dismissive wave.

“Now wait just a-” I started, but a sandy blur choked off my words with a resounding clatter as Jerry launched herself at the cage. The unicorn started, accidentally tearing his magazine as he suddenly stumbled back from the cage.

“You listen here, asshole! Do you have any idea the hell we went through to get here?” she hissed. The unicorn swallowed hard and shook his head. “You’re goddess-damned right you don’t! And we didn’t come all this way to be dismissed with a wave of a hoof by a shit-pickle like you!” I stared at her in silence. I knew that Jerry could have a temper, but usually it was much more controlled than this. “Now you will look at what we have to offer or I swear I will tear through this cage and force feed you your own ass!” She punctuated her words with a bang of a hoof against the cage, causing the unicorn to startle again.

“Alright! Alright,” he muttered as he set his magazine aside and gestured me forward. Jerry lowered herself down and sat on the floor, silent and glaring daggers at the unicorn. I set my saddle bag on the counter with a heavy thud, the wood creaking under its weight. Jerry’s bags contained everything we wanted to keep or felt we would need, and we’d transferred all the rest to mine.

“How much can we get for all this?” I asked as I sat down next to Jerry. The unicorn enveloped the bag in his magic and pulled it through the little opening in the cage. He opened the bag and proceeded to dump out its contents. He lumped all the like weapons into their own piles and began to look over them each in turn. He lifted one of the pistols, turning it over with his magic and then disassembled with the casual ease of a magic user.

“Hmm, not bad,” he muttered as he reassembled it and set it aside. “Where’d you score these?” he asked as the next lifted off the table.

“A st-”

“Scavenged some old ruins,” Jerry interrupted. I glanced at her and she gave me her signature ‘shut up, stupid!’ look. I turned back to the unicorn as he expertly looked through all the weapons and counted the spare bullets.

“The guns are alright, I can part them out and make one good one. I’ll give you…” he started, waving his hoof in circles in the air, “Three hundred caps for the lot,” he muttered.

“I see,” Jerry said flatly. “Then give us everything back and we’ll take them to another vendor and see if they will offer us something better.”

The unicorn narrowed his eyes and moved the guns aside to lean across the counter and peer at her. “Listen here, lady, ain’t no one here that knows more about guns than me,” he said, angry clear in his tone.

“Then I’m sure you won’t mind us taking them to somepony else and getting another offer.”

The stallion scowled as Jerry reached out for the bag.

“Alright, ya damn thief. Two thousand caps and you bankrupt me. That’s my final offer,” he hissed. Jerry smirked and nodded. The stallion muttered angrily under his breath as he ducked beneath the counter. I heard the clanking of a safe opening and then twenty small sacks appeared over the edge and were deposited onto the countertop. I stepped forward and reached out my hoof to take the bags as the unicorn sat back up. His eyes widened and his magic wrapped around my leg and yanked it through the small window, pulling my face against his cage uncomfortably.

“Hey! What the f-”

“Been a long while since I saw one of these! And never one quite like this,” he said, twisting my foreleg side to side as he inspected it.

“Glad I could make your day! Now leggo!” I growled as the shopkeeper appraised my limb in the most uncomfortable way possible.

“I’ll give you ten thou for the pip-buck,” he said suddenly, tearing his gaze away from the computer.

“Hey! You said I bankrupted you!” Jerry interrupted.

“Yeah. I lied. It's called business, lady,” he said, glancing away from me briefly. “Ten not enough? Fine. Twelve. In cold hard caps. Right now.” I narrowed my eyes and pulled my leg back. The unicorn’s magical field popped and fizzled away.

“Thanks, but I’m rather attached to it. I’ll take the two thousand caps you promised for the guns AND my saddlebags back. Thanks.” I said flatly. The vendor’s eyes narrowed and he shoved my saddlebags back through the window plus the additional bags that jingled with caps.

“Fine. But that was a one-time deal. Don’t come crawling back to me all broke and beggin’ for those caps,” he grumbled. I dropped the sacks of caps into my saddlebags and then put them back on.

“My loss, I’m sure. Take care now,” I said as I ushered Jerry out of the shop. We stepped back out into the throng of bodies and shut the door.

“Can you believe that guy?” she grumbled, “What slime!” she trotted down the street, the crowd parting around her as I followed. “I can’t believe he did that!”

“Jerry, wait up,” I called after her, doing my best to keep up. She was several paces ahead, muttering angrily to herself as she shoved bigger ponies aside. A few cast angry glares at her back but most just continued on as though nothing had happened. I trotted up beside her and stuck out my leg, stopping her in her tracks. “Calm down!” I said.

“Calm down?” she parroted, “You saw how that scumbag treated us! He wouldn’t spit on us if we were on fire!”

“He’s just a nopony, forget about him.”

Jerry turned to face me, anger in her eyes. “Exactly! He’s nopony, but apparently we’re still lower than that!” she shouted. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be! We’re free now! It’s all supposed to be different!”

A couple of eyes turned our way, and more than a few ears. I stepped closer to Jerry, hooked my foreleg around her and pulled her close to whisper in her ear. “You need to calm down,” I said, glancing over her shoulder as a rough looking mare turned back to her own business. “Don’t shout that we’re escaped anything. We don’t know who might try to sell us back for a few caps.”

Jerry’s ears fell and she nervously glanced over her shoulder. Several heads quickly turned away, suddenly engrossed elsewhere. With a wince, Jerry turned back toward me. “Sorry… I was just… he dismissed us so easily,” she said, scraping her hoof across the ground. “We’re people too, Free.”

I reached out and placed my hoof on her shoulder. “I know that. And you know that. That’s the most important thing,” I said, offering her the best advice I could. She smiled weakly and pushed me back a step.

“That was cheesy,” she said with a chuckle.

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” I replied. “Though now I’m craving cheese. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any. A VERY long time.”

Jerry rolled her eyes and trotted away from me, shaking her head. “Dork,” she called back to me. She trotted a few feet away and then turned to look back at me. “C’mon. Let’s get something to eat.”

‘Violet’s wasn’t just loud. It was like a barely contained storm. The moment we’d pulled open the heavy wooden door the cacophony of dozens of voices spilled over us. A grizzled unicorn sat behind an equally grizzled piano, tapping away at the keys and adding another layer of noise on top of everything. From the back one of two doors flew open, smacking loudly against the wall as a maroon colt scampered out, a tray neatly balanced on his head. He wound through the crowd, depositing plates of steaming, food-like substances on various tables and then hurried back toward the door next to the one he’d come through only a moment before. It wasn’t just ponies, either. More than a few griffons stood out from the crowd, all of them heavily armed and armored.

But the biggest thing, literally, that stood out to me was the shaggy monstrosity that was planted next to the bar. It was easily twice my height and looked around the room with a distinctly bored expression. It was armored, but it looked less like it was put on and more like it was assembled around it each day, with thick rivets holding the heavy plates together. It dipped its head and spat a thick black gobbet of phlegm into a small container near its hoof. The spittoon clanged loudly as the beast resumed its silent vigil. I leaned over to Jerry, unable to take my eyes off it.

“What… is… that…” I whispered into her ear. Jerry shrugged and then trotted through the sea of tables and customers up to the bar. I hurriedly followed after and took a seat right next to her. A bored looking unicorn mare with pale purple hair trotted over to us. Her mane was dirty and disheveled and she glanced at the two of us briefly.

“What’ll ya have?” she asked over the noise, her horn flared with pink magic as a pair of dingy glasses floated over and were deposited in front of us.

“Actually,” I said, raising my voice to be heard over the crowd, “We were hoping you could help us.”

The mare raised a hoof, silencing me with the gesture.

“I only help paying customers, kid,” she said flatly. I glanced at Jerry who quickly piped up.

“We’ll have two whiskies and some food. Whatever you have will be fine.” The bartender looked us up and down again and shrugged. A brown bottle floated over from behind the bar and she poured a generous amount of amber liquid into each glass and then into her mouth before returning it to the shelf. She wiped her mouth on the back of her foreleg before telekinetically giving a small bell a sharp ring. The door in the back shot open again, banging the wall once more as the same small maroon colt came running out. As he neared the bar, the hulking brute in armor knelt down. The colt leapt, scrabbling up the armor until he was perched on the beast’s back and looked at the bartender intently.

“Two specials, sweetie,” she said. The colt nodded, and hopped off his armored perch to scramble back into the back room.

“Thanks, Tramples,” the colt called as he disappeared through the door. The beast simply snorted and then stood back up, apparently used to the routine.

I must’ve been staring... blatantly. Because the next thing I know the bartender is waving a hoof in front of my face to get my attention. “Huh? What?” I stammered, turning back to face her.

She gave me a flat look. “Ya’ll haven’t ever seen a buffalo before, have you?” she asked.

I glanced at Jerry who was suddenly staring intently at her drink, her face flushed. “Is it… that obvious?” I asked.

The mare smirked, the first bit of emotion I’d seen her muster. “Noooo, not at all,” she said so sarcastically I could practically feel the condescending pat on the head it implied. As quickly as the smirk appeared, it vanished into a wash of boredom. “Buffalo are people too, kid. Don’t stare. Especially at Tramples. He’s a bit self-conscious. Name’s Violet by the way. So, you two need some help with something?” she added. I nodded and stared down at my drink.

“Yeah. We were told we might find someone here who could… guide us through the wasteland?”

Violet blinked slowly. “Regrettably, I know someone who needs the work,” she said.

“Is he trustworthy?” Jerry asked as she carefully lifted her glass and sipped the contents. She winced and set the glass down, but didn’t look entirely displeased.

“I trust him about a far as I can throw him. However, the prick owes me caps,” she stated as her horn flared. A bottle lifted off the back counter and filled a stallion’s glass and replaced itself on the shelf without her ever breaking eye contact. “I hear he’s reliable for jobs though.” she added.

“Do you know where we can find him?” Jerry asked.

Violet glanced at her and then turned to the armored buffalo near the bar. “Tramples, would you be a dear and fetch the idiot please,” she said. The buffalo snorted and stomped his hoof on the floor. A dozen ponies scrambled from their chairs and moved the tables apart, creating a path for the behemoth to cross the room unimpeded. Carefully he picked his way through the created path and tromped up the stairs.

The bar quickly returned to normal as conversations were picked back up. The back door thudded open again, the maroon colt appearing with two bowls balanced on his back. He approached where Tramples had been standing and frowned. Violet smirked again, her horn flaring as she levitated the bowls from his back. “I got them, sweetie. Thank you.” The colt saluted and the hurried back to work as Violet set the steaming bowls before us. They were filled with a thick, brown stew that smelled far better than it looked.

“What in Tartarus’s name do you think you're doing!? Put me down, right now!” I glanced up towards the second floor where the shouting had come from. There was a crash and the sounds of frantic struggling as the person continued to shout. “Tramples, you’re a good mate, but you be putting me down ‘for things get difficult!”

At the top of the stairs appeared Tramples. In his jaws, he held a suit of drab green armor with what appeared to be a unicorn in it. The unicorn thrashed in the buffalo’s grip, swinging its limbs impotently, like a fussing child struggling to get free of mom’s grasp. The tables parted once more and Tramples sauntered over. He set the unicorn down near me and then raised a hoof to jab it into the stallion’s chest.

“Violet wants you,” Tramples grunted in a voice that sounded like he gargled gravel and nails each morning.

“Well, why didn’ ya say so?” The unicorn took a moment to straighten his armored barding and then looked up. At first, I thought he was just bald, but when he lifted his head I understood my mistake. His eyes were milky white, which was admittedly off putting, but not compared to the missing portion of his face. The right side was just gone, leaving his yellowed teeth exposed and only a bit of gangrenous tissue that faded into his gums. My heart stalled mid-beat as slavering ferals gnashing teeth at me filled my head. I must’ve been staring again, because his eyes narrowed and he stepped uncomfortably close to me. “Be ‘onest, mate,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “I got somefin’ in my teef?” He turned his head, giving me a much clearer view of the rotted right side. A conflicting series of emotions washed over me as the fight or flight instincts waged an internal war.

“Stop bothering the customers, Sentinel,” Violet grumbled.

The stallion, thankfully, looked away and sauntered up to the bar. “C’mon now Vi," He leaned a foreleg on the bar and smiled at Violet. "If ya wan'ta see me, all ya hadda do was ask,” he said softly.

Violet rolled her eyes. “I found you some work,” she said, gesturing a hoof at me and Jerry. He gave us a quick look and then back to Violet.

“Vi, no. Not again,” he said shaking his head.

“Fine. Let’s talk about your ta-” Violet started. Suddenly Sentinel whirled to face us.

“Hi! My name is Sentinel. What’s the job?” he asked, all smiles... or rather half-smile, half rictus grin.

“Cheap mother fucker…” Violet growled and trotted to the other end of the bar.

“Uhh… I’m Free. This is Jerry,” I said, gesturing over my shoulder. Jerry waved nervously. “We need a… guide.”

“Well, ain’ you in luck! I happens to know these parts like the back o’ me ‘oof,” he said holding up his foreleg and examining it. He narrowed his eyes at it and then shrugged and lowered it again. “Where ya going?”

“Away,” I answered.

“From?”

“Everything.”

“How very vague of you,” he said, adopting a bored expression. I deliberately glanced at the crowded bar, then back at Sentinel to make sure he’d followed my gaze.

“Yeah. It is,” I said flatly.

Sentinel sighed. “Right, I’ll ‘elp you. Pay me tab, an’ I’ll grab me stuff,” he said as he trotted past us and back up the stairs. I watched him go, breathed a sigh of relief and then looked to Jerry.

“What do you think?” I asked her. Jerry shrugged and turned back to her food. She lifted the bowl in her hooves and sipped it gingerly. Her eyes lit up and she took another, deeper sip before setting the bowl down. Looking to my own bowl, I sampled it myself. It might have looked like someone had already eaten it, but it tasted far better than what I was used to. Careful not to embarrass myself again, I downed the contents of the bowl in one, long drought.

“He looks like he can handle himself,” she said. “I think.” She shrugged again as Violet trotted back over.

“He agree to help?” Violet asked flatly as she took my empty bowl away and set it aside.

I nodded and offered the mare a friendly smile. “Yes. Yes he did. He also asked me to pay his tab?” I said.

Violet’s brow rose. “Your funeral, kid,” she said. “Sentinel owes me three hundred eighty caps. And I need twenty for your meals.” I nodded before dipping my muzzle into my saddlebag and retrieving four of the bags we’d gotten. I lifted my head and set them on the bar. I was instantly aware of several eyes on me and the general noise quieting ever so slightly as conversations halted and attention refocused. Violet’s horn flared and the bags disappeared in a flash of magical energy. She fixed me with a harsh look. “That was dumb as shit, kid,” she hissed as she leaned across the bar. “Good thing you just hired yourself a guard.”

Feeling the tension in the room, Jerry and I decided to wait for Sentinel outside. As we headed for the door, more than a few ponies began to mutter between themselves. I’d screwed up this time. Apparently ponies didn’t normally wander around with that many caps.

“And here I was worried we’d only have Fortune’s ponies after us,” Jerry said as we stepped outside.

“Yeah, sorry,” I muttered. “Still new and learning, remember?”

It was only a few minutes before Sentinel had returned. He still wore his drab green armor, only now he had a matching helmet strapped to his head. His saddlebags were a similar green and clearly worn with age and use. Across his back rested a large machine gun that was easily as long as he was tall. It had a faint shine to it that spoke of care and proper maintenance that put all others to shame. He trotted over and sat himself next to me.

“Right, boss. Ya got a particular ‘away’ ya want to ‘ead in?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Not really… we’re looking to put some distance between us and... The Dig,” I said.

Sentinel nodded slowly, a smile tugging at his features. “So that’s your deal, ey?” A cigarette floated out of his bag and deposited itself in the corner of his mouth. He lit it with a magical spark and took a long drag, streams of smoke filtering out of the ruined right side of his face. He scanned us both up and down again and then stood. “Well, I ain’t takin’ you into the wastes unprepared,” he said as he trotted past us. Jerry and I quickly followed, keeping him in our line of sight. “Ya not got a lick of armor tween ya, and we need to fix that quick fast” Sentinel blew smoke out the ruined side of his face, “Lucky for you I know a Pony” We just followed silently as Sentinel lead us through Rust Rail.

We approached a small, open-air store. It was little more than three walls and a roof standing on the bare dirt. The sign above the counter read ‘Fair Play’s Armor’ in a mix-match of paints. A blue earth pony stallion sat behind the counter, diligently working on a sheet of metal into shape with his iron-shod hooves. Behind him were several beat up old lockers and a small forge that glowed with burning embers. The stallion glanced up as we approached.

“Sentinel,” he said as he picked up the sheet of metal and slipped it beneath the counter. “What can I do for you this time? Need more plating?” he asked. Sentinel glanced over his shoulder at us smiling.

“Actually, I got a couple of ponies in need of some protection.” he asked. Fair Play craned his neck and gave me a very focused look.

“Hmmm, the big one might be difficult. I don’t think I have anything that could readily fit him,” he said as he turned his attention to Jerry. “I have a couple things she could use already. What kind of armor do you want, miss?” he asked, gesturing at Jerry to come forward. Jerry trotted forward and came to a stop next to Sentinel.

“Umm, something inconspicuous if you have it,” she said. “With lots of pockets, and some decent saddlebags.” Fair Play nodded and took a step back, looking beneath his counter. He bent down and reappeared with a key in his teeth. He trotted back to the lockers and opened one.

“What about a holster? Have you got a weapon?” Fair Play asked through grit teeth.

“I… I have a pistol,” she said to him. She turned to Sentinel and shrugged. “I don’t know anything about it. I’ve… never shot a gun before.” Sentinel nodded and his horn shone a hazy blue. Jerry jumped as the pistol she’d kept from the stable floated out and floated over to Sentinel.

“She’s gonna need a ten, Fair,” he called. Fair Play nodded and resumed digging through the locker as Sentinel moved the gun over the counter. It shuddered and then split into several pieces. Jerry watched keenly as Sentinel examined the pieces and made approving or disapproving grunts. When he was done the gun reassembled itself and then deposited itself back into Jerry’s saddlebag. “Gonna need cleaning, too,” he added.

“Can you teach me to do that?” Jerry asked. Sentinel chuckled.

“Not without a horn luv,” he added. “Now, the old fashioned way, wit’ yer ‘ooves, I can teach you that.” Fair Play trotted over and deposited a neatly folded bundle on the counter before her.

“Hold it up for her Sentinel,” Fair Play said. With a roll of his eyes his horn lit up again and the bundle lifted into the air and unfolded. “Right. So, armor that’s inconspicuous. I made this some time ago on a whim. It’s got reinforced inserts hidden in the fabric, subtle, but strong enough to stop small arms fire and turn a blade. Brown, to not stick out too much from the wasteland, and with a hood to offer some minor protection from the rain,” he said as the hoody folded back up and was put back down on the counter. “As for saddlebags,” he said, dipping his head beneath the counter and returning a moment later with a pristine pair of canvas saddlebags in his teeth which he set down next to the armor. “My standard saddlebags should suffice. The left bag has a built in holster that should fit a ten mil just fine.”

“They’re perfect! Where can I try them on?” Jerry asked, offering the stallion a warm smile. Fair Play seemed to brighten and gestured Jerry towards the back of the shop.

“There’s a spot between my shop and the next. Should be plenty of room back there,” he said. Jerry smiled again and trotted past, giddy with anticipation, and slipped out the back of the shack. Fair Play then turned his attention to me. He looked me over for a moment and then looked back at his wares. “I wonder…” he muttered as he trotted back to the lockers once more. He returned a moment later, dragging an old trunk by the handle. He sat up and wiped his brow and then popped it open with a swift buck.

Inside was a set of metal armor, polished to a silvery shine while certain things had been overlaid in black leather. The collar was thick and raised offering some protection for my face while the shoulders were made of overlapping layers that would still offer me some movement. “I uh… I made this for a griffon, but he never came and picked it up. It’s been a year now, I guess he ain’t ever coming back. The shoulders should fit you fine, but the helmet, legs and boots definitely won’t. I’ll have to make you something separate.” The armor, suddenly shrouded in blue magic, lifted from the trunk and floated over my head.

“‘Old still,” Sentinel said as he pulled Liberator and my ratty saddlebags free and then lowered the armor over my head. Even with the magical field I could feel its weight across my shoulders. But it was a comforting weight. One that promised protection. It felt… right. Straps were fastened and then tightened, holding the armor in place. Sentinel trotted in front of me and sat down next to Fair Play. “Fine work, Fair.”

“Thanks. Its capable of stopping heavy caliber rounds, particularly around the collar area. I’ll uh… get to work on a new helmet.” he added, rubbing a hoof through his shaggy brown mane. I twisted this way and that. Testing my range of motion. Even with the added weight, it didn’t bother me at all.

“I’ll take it,” I said, still shrugging my shoulders and getting used to the armor. “What do I owe you?”

Fair Play scratched at his chin absently. “Well, that armor was paid for upfront... But since you need a new helmet and such, how about we say a hundred and fifty for those.”

I nodded. “I need saddlebags too. What about for Jerry’s armor?”

“With the saddlebags and her armor, it’ll be another one fifty.”

I nodded, my gaze dropping to my old saddlebags and Liberator. “One last thing…”

I stepped out into the crowd once more, clad in my new armor, new saddlebags, and with Liberator resting in a pair of hooks on my left side that Fair Play had been gracious enough to attach. Now, in a fight, I wouldn’t have to work it out of its sling. It wasn’t as simple as a unicorn’s magic, but it would do in a pinch. As I waited for the others, I noticed something a little odd. The crowd seemed to flow around me, giving me just a bit of breathing room. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Jerry strode out next to me and I looked down at her, admiring how her hooded outfit fit quite nicely.

“Well look at you, a regular knight in shining armor,” she said with a smile as she used a foreleg to mock shine my shoulder pad. I felt my face grow hot and I deliberately looked away.

“Th-thanks,” I managed to croak. I struggled to think of something to tell her. Something that would also speak my true feelings. But Sentinel’s thick accent cut through the moment.

“There we are,” Sentinel rasped as he took another slow drag of his cigarette and then spat the smoldering butt onto the ground and ground it out under hoof. He exhaled a cloying cloud that mixed unpleasantly with his putrefying flesh. “Now there’s two ponies I feel can survive the Badlands.”

“You really think we can survive?” she asked. Jerry looked down at her armor and then looked meekly at Sentinel.

“With a little trainin’, a dollop o’ luck, an’ my not inconsiderable skill, you’ll be jus’ fine,” he said with a self-assured grin as he turned and trotted down the street. “C’mon Let’s get going. We got lotta ground to cover before dark.”

“Shouldn’t we stay the night?” I asked, trotting after Sentinel. He stopped and turned to fix me with his milky white gaze.

“We probably could,” he said. “‘Cept somepony thought it would be a good idea to go throwin’ caps around.” My ears drooped as he continued. “And that same somepony don’t have a good workin’ knowledge of ‘ow things work in the wasteland. Trust me, the sooner we’re moving the be’er. It’d put a real damper on my day if ya got yer throat cut in the middle o' night.”

“I’m not helpless you know,” I grumbled. Sentinel’s eyes narrowed and he took a step towards me, planting his hoof against my chest armor.

“No. But you’re green as grass. An’ that’s almost as bad,” he hissed. “You hired me. Let me do my job. Now come on, daylight’s wasting.” With that he turned and trotted off once more. Jerry stepped beside me, staring after him.

“Wow… he’s kind of a dick…” she muttered as she followed after him. With a smirk and a shake of my head, I followed her.

Footnote: Level Up!

New Perk: Brick Sh!thouse: Rank 1 -- You are big, muscled and scary. While wearing heavy armor you can more easily intimidate ponies.

Author's Notes:

Thanks for your patience guys and gals. Took a bit of time to finalize this chapter, but I feel it was all worth it.

Big thanks to the Wasteland Wailers for allowing me to mention them. :)

10-13-17: Just a little Friday the 13th editing.
12-21-17: The Perk is Mission rewarded.
2-16-18: Minor edits to fix some grammar and spelling errors