Chapter 5

"Wake up love birds," Stripe said the next morning, "Salty's here."

I groaned sleepily and stretched myself out. The ridiculous amount of popping joints next to me told me Token was awake.

"Fuckin' a Blue," Stripe said, "you need to see a doctor."

Token yawned, "I'm laying next to one right now, and she's said on multiple occasions that my joints are fine."

"Uh huh, you two do some freaky positions last night or what?"

"Is this really an appropriate conversation to have while there's a child in the room?" I asked as I stretched further.

"Shaky ain't in the room, woke up a couple hours ago like a normal pony, seriously, you two act like yer fuckin' hibernating."

"It's not that late." Token said.

"It's noon."

"Well shit." I muttered.

We squeezed into our barding and stepped out into warm (blinding) light of Celestia's sun. Salt and Birch were standing in the center of camp. Her White-Legs were down near the open space near the gate setting up camp and building sniper towers out of the leftover limbs. The Treeminders were digging trenches outside the wall.

As we approached Salt turned to look at me. She had her helmet on and her face mask down, but I could sense her smiling at me.

"Bandage." she said with a nod.

"Salt-Upon-Wounds." I said back.

She turned back to Birch and sighed.

"As I have told you Birch, my White-Legs are far more skilled than the Vipers, and your fortifications should give us quite the advantage."

Birch shook his head in frustration, "That's all well and good lass, but the fact remains that in total we've only got about seventy ponies to throw at their hundreds."

"I understand your concerns Birch, but keep in mind that we also have Bandage and the hybrid fighting with us. I am confident that their support will tip the scale in our favor."

Birch sighed, "I certainly hope so lass, otherwise, I think we're fucked."

"Indeed." she said dryly.

Birch rolled his eyes and trotted towards the greenhouses.

Salt shook her head and sighed, then pulled off her helmet, resting it in her saddlebags, and turned towards us, "Bandage, hybrid, would you mind following me? I would like to discuss the plan for the impending battle."

"I have a name, Salty." Stripe said menacingly.

She glanced over him briefly and coughed, "Yes, my apologies Stripe."

"So," Token said nervously, "am I going with?"

"Actually Blue I was hopin' you'd hang around and keep an eye on Shaky." Stripe said, an innocent request, but I had the feeling he was working to avoid an awkward situation. This zony was winning points with me every day.

"Why do I have to stay and watch her? She's your kid."

His emerald eyes could be relatively intimidating when he put his mind to it. He glared at Token, his lips curling into a small snarl.

"She ain't my kid, I'm asking you to stay and watch her because she's an emotionally unstable ten year old rape victim that's in a fort full of strangers. And I'm asking YOU specifically, because yer-"

I glared at him sternly, though carefully enough that Token didn't notice, expecting what was coming next.

He blinked, his expression and tone calming, "I'm asking you, because you seem very, er, responsible."

She looked confused for a moment, but then shrugged and trotted back into camp.

The rest of us started trotting towards the gates.

"Crisis averted?" Stripe whispered to me.

"Yeah," I whispered back, "thanks mate."

"Don't mention it."

Salt cleared her throat and looked back at us, "My warriors have been planting the powder charges you made, they should sufficiently thin the Vipers' numbers."

"Yup," Stripe grunted, "should keep 'em scattered too."

"I'm thinking the White-Legs can rush in once they're scattered," I said, "you lot seem better suited for close combat."

"Agreed," she said, "but what of the Treeminders?"

"We've got trenches and towers, I figured they could lay down covering fire."

She sighed, "That is another problem I've been meaning to speak with you about, the Treeminders barely have any suitable weaponry."

"Yeah," I sighed, "not much we can do about it though."

She smirked a bit, "Actually, there is."

"Cryptic." Stripe said dryly.

"Mind elaborating?" I asked.

"Of course," she said, "west of here, near the ocean but still in the forest, there is a bunker buried in a hillside that my scouts believe to be an old weapons cache. If it is not too much trouble, I would like you to go and loot whatever you can and return it here."

"I wouldn't mind, but I'm not sure we'd be able to get enough weaponry back here in one trip without some sort of wagon."

Stripe snorted, "I can throw together a sledge, that oughta be good enough for me to drag all that shit back here in one go."

She nodded, "Considering this is a farming community, I am sure that you will have no trouble finding the necessary materials. I need to oversee my warriors' progress.”

Stripe smacked me on the back, “I’ll go rig that sledge out, go make sure Blue didn’t kill the kid will ya?”

I rolled my eyes, “I doubt she killed Shaky.”

He chuckled and trotted towards the collection of tool sheds near the fields, “You can never be too sure boss.”

“You calling me boss makes me really uncomfortable!” I called after him.

“I'll keep that in mind boss!”

I chuckled to myself and trotted into camp, Token was sitting on a log, cleaning her rifle like I’d shown her. Shaky and the other children were playing what looked like a brutal version of king of the hill on a small dirt mound nearby, and Shaky was definitely winning.

“Pretty good scrapper our Shaky.” I said as I sat down next to her.

“Yeah,” she said absently, “I hate this damn rifle model, service it like crazy and the damn thing still jams.”

“Here, let me see.” Her blue magical field changed to my red one as I grabbed ahold of it.

I looked it over, opened the breech and illuminated the inside, everything was clean and well oiled, no parts out of place or damaged.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, and the IF-91 isn’t known for jamming all that often. Maybe your luck has gone to shit?”

“I guess,” she mumbled, “maybe it only works in the stable?”

I shrugged and passed it back to her.

“I need to find something better.” she said.

“Why? That rifle works fine.”

She stayed quiet for a while, looking it over, “It almost got you killed... I, almost got you killed,” she said finally, “back at that raider compound, remember?”

“Bollocks,” I said, “you saved me, remember? I was a bloody, dying heap of rags on the floor. You pumped me full of healing potions and got me moving again.”

She nodded slowly, still looking at the rifle, “I thought you died, when you blacked out. Never cried so hard in my life. Stripe hefted you onto his back and carried you all the way back to town, he kept telling me you were alive, I wouldn’t believe him though.”

I rested a hoof on her shoulder, “What are you trying to say Token?”

She sighed and stared at me sadly, “I’m useless out here babe.”

“Bullshit, you’ve got Security training, that’s a jump up on what I’ve got.”

She looked at me sullenly, “Security training in 80 involved non-violent crowd diffusing techniques, how to settle domestic disputes, and the occasional push up. I’m not worth dick in a fight.”

“And I’m just a medic, no more training than you.”

“And that’s what makes you amazing, you read a book on how to use guns and practically mastered the damn things, I read the book and barely understood half of it, let alone process it."

I sat quiet, trying to think of something to say to make her feel better, “Hey, you know how I said your luck went to shit?”

“Yeah?”

“I take it back, you’re my good luck charm.”

A smirk tugged at one side of her mouth, and her eyes brightened a bit, “How do you figure?”

“Well, think about it. Wounds like I suffered that day should’ve killed me, if you weren’t there, they would’ve, I’m lucky that you were there, and it’s because of your luck. Make sense?”

She smiled and rested her head on my shoulder, “Not a lick, but it makes me feel better. Thanks babe.”

I rested my head against hers and watched the Treeminders working the fields in the distance, “No problem Blue.” I paused for a long time, just enjoying her company, and the view, finally I said something corny, “You’re my rock, you know that, right?”

She giggled, “You’re such a dweeb Bandage, same as when we were in school.”

“Yeah, but I like being a dweeb, without my constant research and scrutiny, we’d be dead in a week.”

Another drawn out comfortable silence, I needed to remember to tell Sunshine about this place, she'd love a constant view of the sun.

“You need a new name, something badass that actually fits you.” Token said after several minutes of silence.

“Why?”

“I don’t like calling you Bandage, it’s such a shitty name.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “tell you what, you think of something, and I’ll change it. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” she said, “Oh! How about Triage?”

I sighed, “Something non-medical please? It’s so mainstream.”

“Hmm, how about Sugar?”

“What?”

“Well, you’re white, and you’re sweet.”

“That’s really dumb.”

“Just a suggestion. Let’s see, you’re really good at shooting, maybe something like Deadeye or Gutshot or-”

“Boss,” Stripe said, trotting towards us with a sledge harness on, “you ready t’ go?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” I replied.

“Done traipsing around the fort gettin’ nookie on the side from Blue?”

“Nookie?”

“Sex.”

I blinked at him a few times and stuck my tongue out, “You’re disgusting.”

He shrugged.

Token pressed her mouth to my ear, “Sounds good to me.” she whispered in a sultry voice.

I felt my face go red and I coughed nervously, “Well, uh... Let’s go raid an ancient bunker Stripe.”

I tried to get up but Token wrapped her legs around my chest to keep me put.

“Not yet,” Token said, she was unfortunately still using her ‘bedroom voice’ adding to my face’s redness “I wanna tell you something.”

She whispered several things she would ‘do to me’ when I got back, each time pressing her mouth further into my ear. All of this was an elaborate ploy to embarrass the ever living shit out of me, and it was working, much to Stripe’s amusement. The cheeky zony was restraining a laugh that could probably blow down these flimsy shacks, to the point where he actually collapsed from the strain of holding it in.

When she was finally done, Token kissed me hard on the cheek, ending with an over dramatic “Mmmwah!”

She finally let go, all the blood in my body had rushed to my face from sheer embarrassment, Stripe was dying of laughter, and Token had the nerve to grin that old cocky grin of hers and continue cleaning her rifle.

I sank my head down as I got up to hide my shame from the devious laughter of the judgmental children that had stopped their match of king of the hill to poke fun at me.

“Stripe, we’re going. See you later Token.”

“‘See you later Token’ what?” she said, batting her eyelashes in false innocence.

“I love you.” I mumbled under my breath.

“What was that babe?” I knew she had heard me, but she wasn’t going to let me leave unless I humored her.

“I love you.” I said loud enough for her to here.

“I love you too... see you when you get back.” she uttered the last phrase in that sultry tone she had mastered in the recent few minutes. I literally thought Stripe was going to die at this point, the hulking bastard was gasping for air worse than me when I’d had my chest perforated.

I gripped his harness with my magic and yanked him up onto his hooves.

“Come on you striped ass, we’ve got business.”

He wiped tears from his eyes, his epic laughing fit was now a series of occasional chuckles, “Whatever you say boss. Seeya ‘round Blue.”

We trotted towards the gate, he was still giggling a bit, but at least he was trying to hold it in.

"So," he said, "how much swag you think we're goin' to find?"

"I'm not sure what we're going to find, hopefully enough guns and ammo to supply a small army."

"Yeah, that'd be great. 'Cept then we'd have to teach all these yokels how to shoot."

"Don't remind me..."

I didn't mind giving these ponies a hoof, it felt good to help, but this whole venture was quickly becoming a headache. I was ready to get on the road and start making money again. Not to mention the odds were stacked against us, and I might not live long enough to bitch about not being paid.

I heard the sound of small hooves hitting metal, and looked to see Shaky riding on Stripe's makeshift sledge.

"What're ya doin' kid?" he asked.

"Going with you," she said, "these k-kids are lightweights and I'm getting b-b-bored."

"So you figured you'd tag along with us to delve into some ancient bunker that's probably filled to the brim with twisted monstrosities?"

"Yup."

He laughed, "I like yer style kid.”

***

“So,” I said, “anypony else get the feeling we’re all going to die?”

“Nah.” Stripe said.

Shaky just gulped and looked back and forth nervously.

We had made our way to the weapons cache bunker. Outside the entrance was a large heap of pony bones, next to that was an earth pony buck that was ripped in half, his intestines trailing behind him and leading inside. On the wall of the entrance, in his own blood, he had written RUN, the N streaking towards the ground where his bloody hoof was now laying.

“So Stripe, you’re the expert, what the hell are we dealing with?”

Stripe rolled the harness off his back, letting it land with a loud thud that made me flinch. He approached the mutilated stallion and inspected it closely, I winced and forced back a gag as he poked into the cavity around the intestines and lifted the corpse to eye level.

He snorted, “Ferals, best as I can figure it. They’re pretty tough, not invincible though, stick to headshots if ya wanna drop ‘em quickly, try not to let ‘em close the distance on ya either.”

“Great,” I said dryly, “actual zombie ponies.”

“Eeya,” he said, backing away after wiping the rancid blood from his hoof onto the corpse’s shredded barding, “blessing in disguise though.”

“How do you figure?”

“All these bones out here say that nopony’s been down there in a while, ferals probably keep folks away. Means that no one’s gotten the chance to loot it.”

I nodded and levitated my rifle out of its loop, “Alright, Stripe I need you up front, I’ll pop anything you don’t take down, Shaky I want you out here with the sledge, if you want to follow you stay behind me, and close.”

“Okay Bandage.” Shaky said. Stripe snorted again and descended into the bunker, I made sure to turn on my eyes forward sparkle and followed.

As we went further and further down, I began to feel oddly at home. The dim lighting of the ancient facility reminded me of the halls of Stable 80. Shaky had decided to follow, I didn’t want her down here but it was her decision. Her tiny hoofsteps behind me were occasionally followed by her bumping into me by accident, my eyes were better suited for dark spaces than hers, and she was nervously sticking close.

We finally reached the bottom of the stairs, opening up into a wide, dark hallway with several rooms, the only light was coming from dim electric signs that said Storage above each room. Red bars were starting to show up on my compass, and I could see glowing yellow eyes moving in the darkness. We went further into the hall, and I mentally berated myself as my hoof tapped a skull that clattered and rolled across the room, then all the eyes started turning to face us, and a long low growl echoed through the darkened corridors.

“Shaky,” I said softly, “back up the stairs, slowly.”

She wasn’t budging though, instead she wrapped herself around my back leg and stood frozen, I could feel her trembling, and a backwards glance showed me that her eyes were wide in terror as she tried to hide behind me.

More eyes started opening on the far side of the room, and more and more red bars were popping up on my compass. Stripe backed into me, I expected fear on his face as well, instead I saw a calm, calculating expression.

“Alright,” he said quietly, “you and Shaky get back up those stairs, enough that you have a good narrow view and some light, I’m gonna fight back as many as I can, you shoot whatever gets past me.”

“Got it.” I said, I tried backing up, but Shaky had me cemented to the floor. “Sweetie,” I said softly, “we need to move back okay? I won’t let anything get you, I promise.”

I heard her gulp, and felt her loosen her hold as she started backing up.

“Slowly sweetie, slowly.”

She nodded and continued moving back, I pushed her along gently, glancing back and forth at her and the ghouls. When we made it to the stairs I saw Stripe look back at us, then he reached into his saddlebags and pulled out a strapped injector, as he slapped it onto himself, he let his bags fall to the floor, the noise agitating the ghouls further.

“Ah,” he said loudly, the ghouls growling in response, “much better.”

Then he slammed a hoof on the floor, the old rusted metal denting slightly.

“Come on fuckers!” he bellowed.

A ghoul screamed a low, gravelly screech, the others followed suit and began to charge. Shaky wrapped herself around my leg again and trembled uncontrollably, I shouldered my rifle and prepared to drop into S.A.T.S.

Stripe was cackling loudly as the first ghoul met him and swatted at it nonchalantly, but in his chem crazed state the swat hit with enough force to crush the ghoul’s side and send it flying head first into the wall, a loud crunch followed as its neck snapped.

The next one jumped through the air at him, but he swatted it to the floor and crushed its head with his powerful front hooves, then pivoted at an unnatural angle and rear bucked the next in the forehead, effectively decapitating it. Then the mob hit him, a dozen ghouls all piled onto him, two others galloped past and screeched as they honed in on Shaky and I. I dropped into S.A.T.S, the ghouls slowing to the time frozen stop, I put a charge on each of their heads, and targeted a third charge onto one of the ghouls dog piling Stripe.

The first round slammed home and did its job, dropping the ghoul instantly, the next also hit, but did little more than tear off half the ghoul’s face and pinwheel it to the floor, the third missed my targeted ghoul but slammed into the midsection of another, knocking it off Stripe. I pulled back the bolt and chambered another round, manually scoping in the wounded ghoul and finishing it off as it tried to stand, then doing the same to the one I’d missed. There was a loud PING of bone hitting metal as the top of its skull separated itself from the rest of the head and hit the ceiling.

I reloaded desperately, Stripe looked like he was getting overwhelmed. Instead he started belly laugh, then bellowed “FUCKERS!!!” as he erupted from the pile, a triumphant grin on his face. One ghoul’s back was broken the instant he emerged, a few others were sent sprawling across the room. He stomped the ones laying around him into a gooey pulp, one tenacious bastard leapt onto his back and tried biting into his neck, my striped comrade just chuckled and slammed the thing onto the floor, a loud series of cracks echoing through the bunker as its spine was shattered.

I finished off the surviving ghouls as they tried to get up, which was proving difficult for them because of two or more broken limbs. Stripe chuckled and trotted towards me, he had some deep bite wounds across his midsection and back that were bleeding quite a bit, but he didn’t seem to notice them.

“Good work mate.” I said.

He smiled brightly, but he seemed... off, his smile was stretching farther than normal, and his eyes were bloodshot and twitching, he was breathing heavily through his nostrils too.

“What’s that drug did you injected yourself with Stripe?”

He frowned and looked down, then brought his head up slightly and chuckled silently, then looked up and frowned again, then shook his head and laughed.

“Oh, you know,” he said dumbly, his voice was too calm, it didn’t carry the same edge as when he usually spoke, “just some Stampede, it’s great when you’re fighting, gets you really... pumped,” his eyebrows jumped for emphasis, “makes it where you can’t feel it when you get shot or stabbed or whatever. The aftereffects are a bit like a double dose of Med-X though.” then he frowned again, “I miss my suit, used to filter this junk out pretty quickly.”

“Right...” I muttered, “Well, come here, I better look at those wounds.”

“Wounds?” he asked in genuine surprise, then he cocked his head and looked backwards at his torso, “Oh! Look at that, guess those rotting bastards got me a couple times huh?” He chuckled dumbly again, “Good thing I can’t feel a Goddess damned thing.”

I rolled my eyes and levitated a healing potion and a roll of magical bandages out of my saddlebags as I approached him, “Just sit down and hold still, okay?”

“Oki doki loki.” he said, then he sat down hard and smiled at me dumbly.

I had him drink the potion, which he sucked on like a foal would do a bottle of formula, then I started wrapping some of his worse wounds, the red glow of my magic slightly illuminating the immediate area. As I worked he started sobering up, shaking his head and blinking a lot.

He snorted, a thankfully familiar gesture, and his eyes went back to the keen piercing look they held before, “Guess I oughta start mixing in just one dose of Med-X with the Rage instead of two, that was a bit too strong for my taste.”

I poked him on the forehead with my horn as I finished and scowled, “Maybe you shouldn’t inject yourself with dangerous drugs, you oversized striped idiot.”

He rolled his eyes and nipped me on the ear, “Whatever, thanks for patching me up.”

I blinked a bit in confusion at the playful bite, it was something I would’ve expected from Token, not Stripe. He glanced at me with an eyebrow cocked like I was an idiot and trotted towards the first storage room, tapping the door control with a hoof. A dim light that was slightly better than the ones on the stairwell shone through the doorway and a small smirk crept up Stripe’s face.

“Paydirt.”

Shaky trotted quickly up next to him and let out an impressed whistle after looking inside. I took my place next to them, a similar smirk tugging at my mouth. The room was filled with ammo crates, and hanging on the far wall was an assortment of weapons, assault rifles mostly, but there was one lone sniper rifle to the left that was just begging for a fondle. I levitated the beautiful beast down from the wall and cradled it in my hooves, admiring every last inch. It was in pristine condition, all the weapons were, not a single speck of rust to be found. It had modifications as well, a built in suppressor, a 12x magnification night vision scope, a bipod attachment, a carbon-fiber stock and base, and a recoil damper on the butt. The only blemish was the word ‘Victory’ carved into the barrel, and that wasn’t as much a flaw as an act of admiration.

“This thing is... amazing.” I muttered.

“Calm down boss, it’s just a rifle.”

“She’s not just a rifle, she’s a magnificent precision tool, like a scalpel or a microscope.”

“Uh, she?”

“Yes, she, it isn’t a title fitting for something as beautiful as this. Somepony obviously loved this weapon, put a lot of care into improving her, maintaining her, they even made sure she was kept in an air sealed chamber to keep her from rusting.”

“Right...” he said, “Well, I’m gonna start gettin’ these ammo boxes upstairs and in the sledge. Try not to squirt on the rifle.”

“I’ll make my best effort mate, no promises.”

“How w-would she squirt on it?” Shaky asked, my face instantly turning bright red, “she d-d-doesn’t have any water or anything to squirt it with.”

Stripe was laughing his way back up the stairs, I was hiding my shame, Shaky was looking at me with innocently curious confusion.

“Shaky, why don’t you check out the other rooms?” I said around my hoof as I covered my face.

She shrugged and trotted out. I took a few deep breaths and then cracked up, the redness leaving my face as I laughed it away. I slid my hunting rifle out of its loop and replaced it with Victory. The old thing had served me well, I’d make sure it found a home with one of the Treeminders, not just left down here to catch rust.

***

This cache turned out to be an early Hearths Warming present, we had more than enough weapons and ammunition to arm the Treeminders and White-Legs. I had added a pristine condition .45 automatic pistol to my budding arsenal, (Shaky was kind enough to sew a hip holster into my armor to house it) and I’d found a 10mm SMG to give to Token. Shaky found herself a 9mm pistol and had scrapped the thick lining of some wrecked combat gear to make herself some barding. Stripe recovered a battle-saddle built for his minigun and a suit of plated combat armor that was conveniently just his size and painted jet black (his favorite color from what I gathered).

Even while he was dragging a sledge filled with nearly a ton of ammo and weapons, I was having trouble keeping pace with Stripe, who was eager to get back and hook his minigun up to his new battle-saddle. Shaky was sitting on the stack of ammo crates doing some touch-ups on her makeshift armor, the filly was a master with that sewing kit, the threading so tight not a single stitch was visible.

"Where'd you learn to sew like that Shaky?" I asked.

"I dunno," she said, "I've j-just always b-b-been good at it."

Then there was a bright flash that startled Stripe and I enough to stop.

"Shit..." Shaky muttered.

Shaky was staring at her flank, newly adorned with a cutie mark depicting a sewing needle and thread spool. My stable upbringing was probably most evident then, I scooped her off the sledge and squeezed her tightly.

"Congratulations Shaky!" I said as she tried to wriggle out of my grasp.

"P-p-put me down d-dammit!"

I set her down and smiled brightly, she scowled at me, then at her cutie mark.

"Aren't you excited?"

"Not really," she said with a disappointed huff, "I wanted somethin' c-cool, not a stupid sewing needle."

"It's not stupid! It's your special talent."

"Definitely better than a book or a roll of bandages..." Stripe muttered.

I scowled at him and he stuck his tongue out at me.

"It doesn't matter if it's 'cool' or not Shaky, it's your special talent, you should be proud of it, and we're celebrating."

Shaky just huffed and pouted, folding her front legs and looking away.

"Tell ya what kid," Stripe said, "if you don't warm up to it by the time we get back, we'll have the White-Legs brand it off you."

I grinned a bit, his tactic was obvious, but I was horrified to see that Shaky was actually thinking about it.

"He's kidding sweetie."

"Am I?" he asked, a sly smile on his face.

"Yes," I said sternly, "you are."

He shrugged and started moving again, Shaky leapt back onto the sledge and continued her work.

"We'll have to throw you a cute-ceañera when we get back." I said, trying my best to get her excited.

"A what?" she asked.

Stripe snorted, "It's some dumbass pre-war tradition where they celebrate a new cutie mark."

I balked at him, "It is not dumb, and it's not limited to pre-war times, we did them all the time in the stable."

"It's a waste of fuckin' time, hasn't been done outside for years for a good reason."

"And what reason would that be?"

"We d-don't have much to celebrate about out here." Shaky said solemnly.

"So," I said brightly, "let's add something to that list."

“I’d rather not...”

“Nonsense.”

I jumped onto the sledge next to her, Stripe let out a strained groan and I frowned.

“Now I just feel self-conscious.”

He snorted and picked his pace back up, “Not so much you as the uphill slope.”

“Good answer.” I said dryly, then I wrapped a foreleg around Shaky and smiled my most reassuring smile. She tried to wiggle away, but there wasn’t much room on the sledge for escapes.

“You t-touch too much.” she muttered.

I wrapped the other leg around her and squeezed her with a hug, “Admit you’re excited about your cutie mark or this gets worse.” I said brightly.

She huffed and pressed her face into my chest, then said something that was too muffled for me to understand.

“What was that?”

She pulled her face away and scowled up at me, “I’m excited about my stupid f-fucking cutie mark. Happy?”

I squeezed harder and smiled down at her, “Ecstatic.”

She pressed herself to my chest again and wrapped her legs around my midsection, then started trembling. I could hear a few muffled sobs escape.

“Hey,” I said softly, “what’s wrong? Please don’t cry.”

She looked up at me with sad golden eyes, tears streaming down her face.

“I miss my p-parents.” she said quietly, then pressed her face back to my chest.

I scooped her up and let her head rest on my shoulder, she hugged me around the neck and started crying softly.

“I bet your parents would be proud of you sweetie, this is a big day for you.”

She sniffed and nestled her head against mine, “I know thay’d b-be proud,” she said, “I just wish they were here.”

***

Shaky cried most of the way back and trudged to the shack when we got there. Stripe and I distributed the weapons amongst the Treeminders, Token showed the unicorns the basics of using them, Stripe showed the earth ponies how to work the rifles in their mouths.

"Brought you a present." I said to Token at the White-Legs' campfire later that evening.

"Aww babe, you shouldn't have."

I fished the SMG out of my bags and passed it to her.

"Shiny." she said absently as she turned it over with her magic. "You know, I remember back in the day we'd give each other extra ration slips as presents instead of automatic firearms."

"Yes, such a droll idea wouldn't you say?"

She giggled and punched me in the shoulder, "Such a dweeb."

"You love it."

"I really do." She rested her head on my shoulder and stared at the fire with a small smile on her face.

I was constantly shocked at how I'd failed to notice how attractive Token was while we were in 80. I was more shocked that I hadn't realised I preferred the mares. The signs were obvious when I looked back, I had terrible relationships with all my matches, when I went on sanctioned "vacations" to the Lower Deck I never really enjoyed the sex in the brothel (an unfortunate fate for the sterile males and females), and I never found myself attracted to any of the more... endowed stallions.

I had always chalked it up to me being a bit of a nerd. Token was the one that enjoyed parties and "vacations" to the Lower Deck. I enjoyed reading up on medical procedures and exercising, not social events and drinking. It was part of what made us such good friends, we balanced each other out.

I looked up and smiled as Salt approached us, this was the second time I'd seen her without armor (the second time she'd seen me without armor I realized), the first time I'd seen her mane without the cartridge braids. Her streaked mane was surprisingly messy. Her legs had the war paint washed off of them, something we'd seen on all the White-Legs that night.

"She doesn't look half bad for a war chief." Token whispered.

"Thank you." Salt said.

"Did I not mention she has really good hearing?" I asked.

"You did not." Token said as she blushed.

Salt chuckled and sat on the log across from us, then stared silently at the fire for a long time. Then looked up at us and smiled.

"It is good to see two mares as comfortable with each other as yourselves."

Token chuckled, "We got matched as friends when we were five, we've had a good fifteen years to get comfortable with each other."

"You were five," I pointed out, "I was six."

She poked me in the ribs, "Don't start bringing up the age shit again, or else I'm going to start calling you old."

I pressed my mouth to her ear, "If you get to call me old," I whispered, trying my best to copy her sultry voice, "I get to give you a spanking."

The blood red mare across from us coughed nervously, "You realize that I can hear you quite clearly, correct?"

"Oh she knows," Token said, "Stripe made us a bet earlier that we couldn't make you blush."

Salt shook her head and chuckled, "How much did you bet?"

"If he wins he gets to watch the next time Token and I, how did he put it, 'clean each other's pipes.'"

Salt's face shone bright red, even through her red coat, and a triumphant smirk crept up my face.

"What did you win?" she asked once her face was back to normal.

"Our arrangement with the devious striped bastard is private in nature." Token said.

I rolled my eyes, "He has to help us with Shaky's cute-ceñera."

Salt blinked in confusion, "Her what?"

"A little party we're going to throw to celebrate her new cutie mark."

"Ah, the hybrid told me she got hers today. She must be excited."

I sighed, "Not exactly, I don't think this day was how she hoped it'd be."

"In what way?"

"Up until two weeks ago, I'm guessing she thought her parents would be alive to see it."

Salt nodded and stared back at the fire, the flames reflected in her eyes, her face was expressionless, not even contemplating, just blank.

Token stared absently as well, but then started looking around the fort.

"Speaking of the oversized son of a bitch, where is he?"

Salt sighed, "He has been giving my warriors quite the thrashing in the sparring circle for the last few hours, I am almost ashamed to say that he defeated me."

"He is pretty good in a scrap isn't he?"

I laughed, "You should've seen him at the bunker, he tore a pack of feral Ghouls apart with nothing but his hooves, I barely had to fire a shot."

Salt nodded absently, "He is quite the frightening adversary."

I shrugged. Frankly I was glad Stripe was such a good fighter. He was a friend, and he had our backs, and I honestly couldn't think of him as frightening. Deep down, Stripe was a sweetheart, definitely ferocious and rough around the edges, but still a sweetheart.

"Speak of the devil." I said as Stripe sauntered over and sat on his haunches near the fire.

He wiped sweat from his brow with a hoof and whisked it into the fire, which hissed softly in protest.

"I'll give ya one thing Salty," he said, "yer boys ain't slouches."

"Nothing compared to you I fear."

He waved a hoof dismissively, "Hell, anypony that got trained the way I did could fight that good, even Blue I bet."

Token scowled at the zony and cocked an eyebrow, "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

A mischievous grin crept up Stripe's face and he trotted to us, then scooted me aside with a foreleg.

He pointed at me, "Alright, look at Bandage for a second. See her frame?" he poked me in the belly for emphasis, "She's firm, trim, pretty muscular. That's a soldier's body. Good for war, trench work, that kinda thing."

Then he pointed at Token, "Now look at your frame, you’re, voluptuous, curvy, that’s like old school, drop dead sexy. But ya ain’t meant to be runnin’ around brawlin’ an’ shootin’ an’ all that other fun shit.”

“I can fight!” she huffed.

“I know ya can, just sayin’ you don’t have the build for shootin’, lootin’ and other cordite filled activities, most’d figure you’re built for... recreational purposes.”

Token blushed, Stripe chuckled and trotted around behind us. Then his forelegs slid around my midsection and squeezed, I felt him press against my back, then he leaned his head over and rested it on my shoulder, grinning stupidly.

“Personally,” he said, “I prefer a body like boss lady’s here, tends to be more... flexible.”

I giggled and shrugged him off, “You’re a perv, you know that right?”

He chuckled and stepped over the log, then sat down in between Token and I.

“It’s been established.”

Token was still blushing and looking down, Stripe nudged her and smiled down at her.

“I was just messin’ with ya Blue.”

She looked up and smiled, “I know mate. You have a point though, maybe I ought to start working out?”

He shrugged, I yawned and rubbed my eyes.

“I think I’m gonna pack it in love, don’t stay up too late. Big battle tomorrow and all that jazz.”

Token leaned over Stripe and gave me an affectionate peck on the lips, “Sleep tight babe.”

I smiled back at her and got up, making my way towards the shack. I wasn’t really tired, in truth I wanted some alone time with Victory. Not the weird sort of alone time, I just wanted to... oil her.

I opened the shack door gently and peeked inside, Shaky was curled up fast asleep on the dirty sleeping bag I used for a bed. I didn’t blame her, it was the only cushioning available, and Stripe wasn’t there so she couldn’t sleep on his back. I trotted over to the corner where I left my gear, sat down on my barding as a sort of cushion, and cradled Victory in my hooves.

I took the clip out noticed a tiny slip of paper tucked into the magazine. I tugged it out with my magic and unfolded it.

To whom it may concern,

If you’re reading this, I’m dead, hopefully that just means some blighted zebra took me out, not that the world got blown up like everypony says it will. Victory’s a good rifle, she’s my baby in fact, saved my ass more times than I care to count. I stashed her away in this bunker when I got relieved so that requisitions wouldn’t recall her. Keep her clean and oiled and she’ll keep gunning, I can promise you that much. Do me a solid and cap some baddies with her, sort of an in rememberance for old Coats.

Yours truly, Major Fancy Coats

P.S. Better wiped than striped!!!

I set the letter aside and made a mental promise to ‘cap some baddies’ for Coats, I owed him for taking such good care of this beauty. I loaded fresh .308 rounds into the current clip and several others, then slid the magazine back into Victory and leaned her against the wall.

I didn’t dwell on Coats, didn’t think about his life at all, his work. He was a long dead sniper, that was the jist, and past that I didn’t give a shit. The past never really interested me, being born in a stable I was conditioned to look to the future, not the history of a nation that was nothing but dust.

I laid down on my barding and shut my eyes, trying to sleep for several minutes when I heard small hoofsteps approaching. Shaky snuggled in next to me and rested her head on my forelegs.

“S-sorry,” the filly muttered sleepily, “I d-don’t sleep well unless I’m near somep-pony, and I g-get nervous when Stripe’s not around.”

“It’s fine sweetie.”

“Where is he anyway?”

“Out at the campfire chatting with Salt and Token, he should be in in a couple hours.”

“Okay.” she yawned.

She started snoring softly several minutes later, I got as comfortable as possible and followed suit.

***

I awoke to a sizzling noise, and the smell of something beyond heavenly that tickled my nostrils. I opened my eyes and saw everypony in our little group sitting around a fire Stripe had started in the middle of the room. Token was levitating the tray he’d made from the old shack over the fire, and sizzling on it were thin strips of meat and small puddles of grease. Stripe was watching the meal carefully, like Cookie used to do. Shaky was watching the pieces of meat in anticipation, Token was just focusing on keeping the tray hovering at the same level.

“What in the bright brilliant glow of Celestia’s sun is that?” I asked as more of the delicious fumes filled my nose.

“Bacon.” Stripe grunted. “Figured we oughta have somethin’ delicious and unhealthy for breakfast on what could be our last day.”

“I f-f-f-fuckin’ love bacon.” Shaky said excitedly, bouncing slightly.

“You like yours crispy or undercooked boss?”

“Um, undercooked I guess.”

He snorted, “Tough shit, yer gettin’ crispy.”

“Why would you even bother asking if you’re just going to make it crispy anyway?”

“‘Cause I’m a thoughtful, considerate motherfucker.” he said with a touch of irritation. This was the first time in a week we’d all been up in the actual morning (6:30ish) and Stripe was apparently not a morning pony.

"It's done Blue." he said after a while, fishing plates from his saddlebags and passing them around, then Token scraped a few bacon strips onto each.

I ate my first bite apprehensively, then practically had an orgasm as the flavor hit me. I shoveled the other pieces into my mouth and chewed the crispy meat slowly, savoring the delicious perfection that was bacon.

Token actually moaned a bit as she slowly at her first piece bit by bit. Shaky was greedily devouring each strip one at a time, Stripe had done something similar to myself and ate all three strips at once.

"Stripe, this stuff is- I don't even-"

"I know right?" he said, his tone and expression had softened, the miracle food had actually calmed his nerves.

"Is all meat this good?"

He shrugged, "I don't much care for Ghoul meat, not so much the taste as the consistency."

I balked at him, he chuckled and adorned an expression that told me it was a joke.

We trotted out into the brisk morning air and moved to our respective positions. Stripe and his hulking minigun were posted with Salt's troops on the frontline. Token, to my dismay, had volunteered to help in the trenches around the gate. Shaky was with the non-combatants in the far back, Stripe had had to work hard to convince her to stay in the fort. My new protege Oak (Birch's unicorn son) was on tower duty with me, and I spotted him on the far side of the hill, watching the sun rise over the ocean.

Oak looked a lot like his father, only skinnier, shorter, not as cheery, and definitely not as wooly. I liked him quite a bit actually. His stony expression was that of concentration and focus, and he paid attention when I explained the use of my old hunting rifle, I never had to repeat myself. His eyes didn't share the same soft twinkle of his father's, instead they looked more like... Well, mine, sharp and attentive.

I was almost proud to see him checking his rifle and the spare magazines in his pack. I trotted up next to him and tousled his cropped red mane, he never looked up, just continued his preparations, his sharp blue eyes darting back and forth.

"Ma'am." he muttered absently in the same thick accent of his father.

"Good morning Oak."

He smacked a fresh magazine into the rifle and slid the bolt into place, then slung it into his pack's loop. The deftness of his hooves was strange for a unicorn.

“Aye.” That’s the other thing I liked about Oak, he didn’t talk much.

“Nervous?”

“Nah.” I believed him completely too. The main reason I’d picked him was most of the other unicorns were jittery to a fault, Oak was calm, reserved.

“Glad to hear it. Still on for being my spotter today?”

“Aye.”

“Got your scope sighted in properly?”

“Aye.”

“Got your spare mags all sorted out?”

“Aye.”

“Got your frilly panties on?”

“Aye.” he said absently, then blinked in realization and blushed.

I laughed loudly and tousled his mane again. “Gotcha.”

“Aye.” he said, scratching the back of his head nervously.

“Buck up mate, just trying to lighten you up a bit is all.”

"I know, just not much in the mood for jokes."

"Right, battle time, serious faces." I scrunched my face into an over-serious scowl and he chuckled to himself.

"Any news on when they're going to attack?" I asked.

"Aye, the White-Legs' scouts said it'd be a few hours, gives us plenty of time to prepare."

"Aye." I agreed, mocking his Shetlander accent.

He rolled his eyes and trotted off, "I'm gonna go check the ammo stock in the towers."

"Have fun with that."

I trotted towards the main gate, figured I'd go and see Token since we had a few hours. The gate was wide open, with trench workers moving supplies out. Token was sitting near the back trenches overseeing the process.

"How goes it love?"

She shrugged. "As well as it can I suppose."

I sat down next to her and gave her a reassuring nudge. She smiled at me warmly and gave my neck an affectionate nuzzle.

"What do you think of our chances babe?"

I sighed, "Honestly, I'm not sure. Really it all depends on how effective Stripe's explosives are at weeding them out. I'm afraid we're going to lose ponies no matter what."

She nodded and stared at Stripe and Salt barking orders off in the distance. I watched for a while as well, before the nagging feeling of dread I'd been experiencing bubbled to the surface.

"I really wish you weren't up in the shit love, I'm worried about you."

She let out a semi-aggravated sigh and gave me an oddly stern look, "Like I told Stripe, I know how to fight."

"I know you can fight Token, but that doesn't change the fact that bad shit can still happen to you."

"Bad shit can happen to everypony, it's practically a war."

"I get that you want to fight, but do you have to be in the trenches?"

"Oh I see," she scowled, "you'd rather have me in the back with Shaky, staying out of the fight completely?"

I shifted uncomfortably, "Well..."

She pressed a hoof to my face to silence me and sighed again, "Listen babe, I realize you want to keep me safe because you're worried, and that's very sweet of you, but these ponies need me. I may not have much combat experience, but it's a shite side more than what most of these lot have."

I frowned and wrapped her in an embrace, "I know, but, I don't think I could bear it if anything happened to you, I love you."

She hugged me back and gave me a quick peck on the cheek, "I love you too, but I'm still fighting, you just need to have faith that nothing bad will happen." She pulled away and smiled, "Besides, I'm super lucky remember? What could possibly go wrong?"

I smiled sadly, then pressed my head to her chest, "Don't jinx it, you silly blue bitch."

"Bollocks, it's impossible to jinx me."

I sighed and pulled away, "Anything else I need to check on?"

She scratched her chin, "Hmm, I think Salt-Upon-Wounds wanted to talk to you, she's at the front with Stripe getting things organized."

I squeezed her again in a quick hug and kissed her on the cheek before trotting through the gun line.

The Treeminders had done an excellent job digging trenches, some even had tunnels to duck into where the spare ammunition was being held. Everywhere there were ponies scurrying back and forth, making small additions with foxholes and sandbags.

Salt and Stripe were sitting next to each other at the front, she was barking orders at her warriors, Stripe was nonchalantly leaning against his minigun, scratching his chin and yawning. Celery was next to him, assigned to reload his minigun, his new battle saddle was missing the autoloader he'd enjoyed in his armor.

Stripe cocked his head to look at me as I approached.

"Great day for a battle ain't it boss? Sun's shinin', radioactive birds chirpin', hell, I bet even Salty here is feelin' chipper."

"Silence," she spat, "this is a time for preparation, not idiotic jokes."

He snorted, "Just tryin' to lighten things up a bit, no need t' be a bitch."

She sighed with frustration and shook her head, "Go and make sure our ammunition reserves are prepared for us in the event of a retreat."

He chuckled softly, "For your sake, I hope that was a request, 'cause if it was and order..."

He trailed off and took up a menacing grin, Salt coughed and shifted uncomfortably.

"Stripe," I said, "go do it please."

He looked at me and snorted then got up and sauntered off to the trenches, Celery followed, likely eager to get away from the tension.

"Sorry about him Salt, I think he has authority issues."

She sighed again, "It is not entirely his fault, I have been stressed all morning and taken to shouting orders at everypony in my near vicinity, including him. He has been bearing with it surprisingly well, but I fear he is near the end of his patience."

"Right. So, what're we expecting?"

"They should not be coming at us with full intent, as far as they are concerned this is another routine raid, they are not expecting resistance on this scale."

"How long before they catch on?"

"I would guess a few seconds after the powder charges detonate and we storm out of the trenches with a blind rage."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're being facetious."

She shrugged, "It was actually an attempt at sarcasm, I am not very good at either I'm afraid."

I laughed and she smirked a bit.

"How's Celery taking her new role?"

"She is nervous to be on the front, but eager to assist. It is Stripe that is lacking in enthusiam, being a support gunner is not his idea of fun."

I nodded, "Yeah, the crazy sob prefers to be up in other ponies' faces with that minigun, not in back laying down covering fire."

"I cannot blame him. The rush of close quarters battle is... exhilarating."

I shrugged, "Guess I'm too sane to follow that line of thinking. I'll just stick to my rifle."

"Sanity is unfortunately not a luxury I can afford. And I agree that you continue using your rifle, you are quite the shot."

She stopped our conversation to belt orders at a White-Leg in her native tongue. She sighed impatiently as the stallion galloped back to the gate.

"Which reminds me, I need you to eliminate any Viper leaders you can spot, it will give us an excellent advantage in the way of tactical control."

"Right, no problem. What exactly am I looking for?"

"The biggest males with the best gear and weapons."

"Yeah, I think I can handle that."

"Thank you." I nodded and started trotting off when she called after me. "Please shoot straight!"

Stripe's interpretation of checking ammo reserves involved lazily sitting on a crate of 5.56mm rounds smoking cigarettes with Celery.

"How's the ammo?" I asked.

"Comfy." he grunted around his smoke.

I rolled my eyes and sat next to him in a comfortable slouch. Celery waved her pack of cigarettes at me and I shook my head.

"Only about an hour left now, should be one hell of a fight."

I chuckled, "And to think, the only reason we're here is because you followed some tracks in the mud."

He shrugged, ceramic armor plates clanking together, "I'm a hardcore mercenary that wanders all over the wasteland, this ain't the first time I've fallen ass backwards into an adventure."

"I wouldn't necessarily call it an adventure..."

He snorted, "Hoppin' all over the damn woods hunting down special weapons and delving into the depths to fight monsters, defending a fort from evil doers, bitch, we're obviously in the middle of an adventure."

"Maybe you've read too many books... aren't adventures generally happy-go-lucky not violent and utterly just fucked up?"

He snorted, "The genre leaves room for innovation, granted I wouldn't call a post apocalyptic wasteland a great setting for an adventure, I'd prefer something like Daring Do. Ancient temples an' shit like that."

“So you’re saying you prefer traipsing around in the jungle looking for tombs over digging through old bunkers blasting monsters to bits?”

He shrugged, “Either way it’s desecratin’ a grave, in a way...” he paused and scratched his chin, “damn, maybe that’s what I’m into...”

I rolled my eyes, then a boom of a detonated powder charge sounded out, Stripe sighed and spat his cigarette.

"That's our cue, let's move Cel."

"Good luck mate." I said, smacking a hoof on his shoulder.

"Seeya on the other side boss."

***

I breathed out slowly, still staring through my scope, the buck had been in the middle of shouting orders, unfortunate last words.

I marveled at the sense of peace that came over me when I worked, a battle was raging below, but I didn't hear a thing, and I barely felt the soft push on my shoulder when Victory sent a round downrange. Concentration was a wonderful thing.

I brought my eye away from the scope and scanned the battlefield. Stripe was on a hill, decimating the Vipers making a futile attempt at overtaking him. Behind him, hunkered down in a foxhole, Celery was reloading her rifle and preparing to rush to Stripe's side with a fresh box of ammunition.

I spotted Salt, in the fray of things, crushing anypony foolish enough to stand in her way. Her helmet was gone, and in my heightened state I could pick out her furious face, her mouth open in what was likely a harrowing war cry. Her tribe was at her back, similar bellows spilling out, expanding the swath she was forging.

The problem with not hearing anything, I didn't hear the missile screaming towards our tower, and it was far too late to do anything by the time I saw it.

The world went black. As I blinked back to consciousness, I first saw that the tower had fallen, and we had tumbled out of the gate. Then I saw the flames in the distance, then Oak next to me, shaking as he tried to stand, no blood, he was just disoriented. Then I saw Token running at me, her face and mane were blackened with soot.

She reached me and shook me hard, and I snapped back into alertness, the ringing fading away.

"Are you okay?" she yelled.

I nodded and trotted to Oak, helping him stand.

"I'm fine." he grunted.

"The Vipers are rushing us with flamethrowers! We need to move!"

I was still looking over Oak, checking him for shrapnel, looking for signs of concussion.

"Bandage!" Token screamed, pushing into me, "Now!"

I stared at her, then nodded and scooped Victory up with my magic, then holstered her and pulled out my pistol.

Oak tried to limp after us but I stopped him with a hoof and nodded towards the gate.

"But-" he started, I raised a hoof to silence him and wheeled him around, he sighed and limped back to the fort, I turned and galloped to catch up with Token.

"We're meeting Stripe in triage!" she called back at me. It was hard to hear her, even though I was right behind her, rockets and 40mm grenades were impacting the hill to our right.

We reached the trenches, "Stick to the wall!" she yelled as a pony with a flamethrower appeared and blasted a Treeminder on the opposite edge of the trench with a gout of fire.

We hugged the wall as he continued shooting flame into the trench, my left side was getting hot, the fire only a few feet away, but I wasn't burning yet. Token fished a grenade out of her saddlebags, bit the pin and levitated it out of the trench in front of the pony. There was a loud boom, the flames stopped pouring in, a red bar disappeared, and mangled chunks of pony were flying through the air.

We continued through the trenches until we found the large dugout being used as a medical station. Several injured ponies were scattered about, being treated by impromptu tribal doctors. I saw Stripe laying down as we entered, a makeshift arrow protruding from his shoulder between the armor plating. I trotted up to help him but he shook his head and arched it to his left.

"Her." he grunted.

I turned to see Celery lying on a ammo crate being used as a sort of table, Borsh was holding her down while Carrots carefully worked to cut away the barding melted to her leg.

I trotted up as she peeled the ruined armor away, the burns beneath were beyond severe, at a glance, mostly 3rd degree burns, in certain pockets, 4th degree, charred bone was visible in a few places.

"Alright," I muttered, "let me see here. We need to work fast to avoid a necessary amputation."

I took out a syringe of Med-X, my combat knife, a healing potion, and a roll of magical bandages.

I injected my last dose of Med-X directly into her scorched leg, she bit her lip and clenched her eyes, tears starting to roll out.

"Sorry. Carrots, keep her looking away."

Carrots nodded nervously and started whispering conversation in her sister's ear as she held her head and turned it away.

Most of the dead flesh needed to be cut away, anything black and crispy, everything that could be saved was very red, blistered and swollen. On closer inspection the burns on the bone weren't as severe as I thought at first, I'd worried it'd been heated up enough to damage the marrow, but it was a surface wound, and it would heal eventually.

I poured the healing potion directly onto the wounds as evenly as possible, muscle and irritated layers of flesh started returning, I used my healing spell to knit all of it back into place. The blisters were still there, but their swelling went down considerably. I wrapped her leg in the magical bandages and gently set it down.

"Not quite good as new," I said absently as I cleaned my knife off, "but it's the best I can do without proper burn ward equipment."

"Thank you," Celery croaked out, "will I be able to walk?"

"With time, yes, but you'll most likely limp the rest of your life... sorry."

"Don't be, you saved my leg."

I heard strained grunting behind me, Stripe had bitten down on the arrow in his shoulder and was carefully working on pulling it out himself. It snapped in his mouth and he groaned in frustration. I focused on the wound wrapped the head of the arrow with my magic and pulled, and with a liquidy, sliding pop, it emerged, blood oozing out after it.

He pulled out a small pouch, opened it, and rubbed the powder inside on the wound, then stood up and shook himself.

He rolled his battle saddle off his back and cracked his neck, "Ready to go take it to these sonsabitches?" he asked.

"I believe these 'sonsabitches' are already taking it to us." Salt said weakly.

She limped in, one of her warriors supporting her bad side. She was bleeding immensely from a gash on her forehead, and I could see a dirty rag tied around her left foreleg as a tourniquet where I assumed a bullet had gone through. Blood was also slowly oozing out of slits in her armor, I guessed more arrows.

She glanced at Stripe, blinking blood out of her eye. "Healing powder?"

"I'll do ya one better." he said as he pulled out a small bottle of blackish red liquid.

Salt smirked slightly, "Bitter drink?"

"Eeya." he tossed it to her, she caught it in her teeth, pulled the cork with her tongue somehow (which I tried very hard not to think about out of respect for Token) and sucked the whole bottle down.

"Eeyuck!" she spat once she finished, "I loathe that swill."

"Did its job though." The gash on her head was shut(though still visible), the slits were no longer oozing, and blood was no longer trickling from under the tourniquet on her leg.

"Amazing." I said.

"Yeah," Stripe grunted, "tastes like piss though."

"We need a plan."

"Figured we could just hop upstairs and kick some ass."

"I was hoping for something a bit more detailed Stripe."

"Shit, not like I'm some sorta master tactician, I figure the A to B, let the in between sort itself out."

"We should keep to the trenches," Salt offered, "emerge when we are behind them, pin them to the fort walls."

"What's the fun in that?" he countered.

"Why not do both?" Token asked.

I nodded, "I see where you're going with that, the main force can keep them distracted from the front, we can hit them from the back as a sort of strike team."

Salt nodded in agreement, Stripe shrugged apathetically.

"We're in." Shaky said from behind me.

I turned around to look at her, she was glancing around the room, No-Bark was behind her, a massive sword(a claymore maybe?) strapped to his back, covered in armor that looked to be made out of logs.

I shook my head, "No sweetie, you need to stay here where it's safe."

"F-fuck that." she said with a small stomp, "We wanna help."

No-Bark nodded eagerly, "Ol’ Sticky's feelin' mighty ornery!"

"Hell boss," Stripe said, "if the kid and the codger wanna help, might as well let 'em."

Before I could protest, a Viper stormed into the dugout, none of us were fast enough to react before No-Bark was across the room, his sword buried in the other pony's chest.

"Damn." Stripe said. "Where the hell did you learn to do that old man?"

No-Bark pulled the sword out and sheathed it, his dentures staying gripped on the hilt.

"Cave rat taught it to me!" he said, his eyes momentarily going bonkers, “I told ya Sticky were feelin’ ornery!”

“Ornery indeed.” Salt muttered.

“Borsh and I will keep things locked down here.” Carrots said.

Token dumped her magazine and loaded a fresh one, “Let’s move people.”

Our small group blazed out of the dugout and moved through the tunnels between trenches. Stripe and Salt were in front, pummeling the occasional Viper and ordering any friendlies back to the front. Shaky was riding on No-Bark’s back, steering his head left or right with the weave of the tunnel. Token and I were bringing up the rear.

“You know love,” I said to her as we galloped, “you look rather sexy when you’re all gun ho like this.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself babe, and seeing you jump into doctor mode like that back there... positively yummy.”

“As adorable as all that lesbian lubby talk is to listen to,” Stripe said, “I think we’d all appreciate it if you two’d shut the fuck up.”

“Speak for yourself,” Salt said, “I rather enjoy hearing it.”

“I know ya do Salt, which is a damn shame, cuz I bet you and I could just destroy a fuckin’ bedroom.”

We finally emerged, the battlefield was littered with corpses, indistinguishable after the Vipers’ bombardment. We all charged in different directions, sticking with the same pairings as in the tunnels. Salt-Upon-Wounds and Stripe took on the main force, knocking ponies into the air with bone crushing force. No-Bark was hitting a flank, Shaky steering him and firing her 9mm at the enemy simultaneously. Token and I had bigger metaphorical fish to metaphorically fry, honestly, I wasn’t quite sure what a fish was at the time, some sort of scaly thing that breathed water?

Our target was the chief of the Vipers, Salt said he would be using something called a shishkebab, and that we’d know him when we saw him. We did indeed, the buck was about my size, but that wasn’t what stood out, he had a gas tank on his back, and was swinging a flaming sword left and right with his magic. Token tried to fire but her rifle only got off two shots before jamming. I rolled off my saddlebags and charged ahead while she fixed the problem, unsheathing my knife and pulling out my pistol as I ran. For some reason, a part of my mind was wanting this to be up close and personal.

I fired off rounds as I charged, but they deflected harmlessly off his metal barding. The unicorn turned, I tried shooting him in the face, but he wore a thick welding helmet for protection, and the pistol wasn’t accurate enough to hit the thin glass slit. He charged at me, kicking up mud as he galloped. As we drew closer, I dumped my clip and shifted left, but he positioned just right, and a searing pain arched through the area around my eye. I fell and skidded, he continued past. I clenched my right eye shut and slammed my face into the mud to extinguish the fire in the new gash as the familiar smell of burnt flesh filled my nose.

I opened my eye when I was sure the fire had gone out, it was still intact. I ran a hoof over the new scar, stretching from my forehead, down over my right eye, and stopping just below it. I was pissed now, really, really pissed.

“Why the FUCK, is it always my fucking face, that gets fucked up like this?!” I screamed at him.

“Awe, did the poor wittle cunt get a cut?” he mocked.

That familiar pang of rage coursed through my mind and took control, I picked up my knife, in my teeth this time, and gripped the hilt firmly, then shrieked around it as my adversary and I charged again.

This time as he drew near, I didn’t swerve, instead, I hopped slightly, got my back legs in front, and slid through the mud under him, plunging my knife into the soft under part of his armor and dragging it through his belly, hot gore spilling over me as I went.

I rolled over and stood, shaking the bloody filth off myself as best I could. He just stood there, swaying and trembling slightly. He dropped his shishkebob, and then made a strange lurching motion as his steaming intestines poured out of the split in his belly. Then he just, fell over, he wasn’t quite dead yet, I could see the plates of his armor moving up and down, ever so slightly as he breathed his last few breaths.

I trotted up to him, wiping his gore off my knife and onto the cloth pieces on his armor, and flipped his mask up. The buck underneath had a glazed look in his eyes, but was noticeably terrified. I lowered my mouth to his ear, and whispered to him.

“I really, don't like that fucking word.”

He gasped, trying to catch air through what I imagined was a considerable amount of pain.

“Kill me, please.” he croaked.

I shook my head and flipped his mask back down.

“Live with it,” I said through gritted teeth in a voice that didn’t quite seem like my own, “feel every bit of that fucking pain, and die knowing you deserved all of it, you worthless piece of shit.”

I walked back to Token, sheathing my knife and reloading my pistol as I went. Token ran to meet me, and gently stroked the area next to my new scar.

"Damn..." she muttered, "do you need a healing potion or-"

I kissed her on the cheek to stop her, "Thanks, but it wouldn't do much, wound's cauterized. I could cut the flesh away and heal it, but the scar would probably just get wider and nastier looking."

She dropped her hoof and glanced me over again with concern.

"You're alright?"

I smiled and winked, "Golden love."

Then I felt it, sharp pain spreading through my ribs, I felt myself being lifted and pushed, heard Token screaming, started screaming myself when I looked to my left and saw the lance protruding from my torso. There was a burst of gunfire as the large stallion behind the lance collapsed, blood, brain, and bits of skull spouting out of his head.

The lance turned blue, which was overlapped with red as Token and I worked to pull it out.

A weak and rasping "fuck" escaped my lips when it was finally pulled loose.

I looked around absently while I lay there in the mud, blood oozing out of my new wound as Token desperately pressed rags to it and fumbled to open potions with her magic. We were winning, not many Vipers were left, the rest were retreating, I saw ponies dragging the chief away, moving as quickly as possible while still trying to hold his guts in.

They were young ponies, not as young as Shaky, but definitely younger than myself. Something in me snapped when I thought of the bastard that scarred me getting away and being healed. I pushed Token off me, I think I did anyways, I didn't feel in control, obviously a reaction to shock.

I stood up, feeling the pain in my chest, but not feeling it, then limped to my saddlebags and lifted Victory. I stared through the scope, looked at the young ponies' faces, focused on the gas tank on the chief's back, breathed in, squeezed the trigger.

***

They burned to death, slowly, I was half conscious when I saw it, but I saw it clearly now, young faces screaming in agony, blistering, seeming to melt away.

We were trotting back to the gate, Celery winced as she limped.

"Here," Salt said, poking her head under Cel's bad leg and pushing herself under her, gently rolling her onto her back, "allow me to help."

"This is a bit embarrassin' ma'am." she muttered nervously.

"Nonsense, I am just lending a hoof."

"Right, thanks I guess."

"You alright babe?" Token asked me.

I nodded absently. The lance thankfully hadn't gone deep, and had only bruised a couple of ribs when it impacted. "Could use a mirror, now that you mention it."

"You still look lovely Bandage, and I think the scars give you a degree of character."

"Whatever." I mumbled.

We had regrouped with everypony that survived, thankfully high numbers. We'd started with 70 ponies, all in all only 11 were dead and only 20 wounded. Stripe was dragging two wounded Treeminders on his sledge while they chatted, a young White-Leg that had taken an arrow to a knee was riding on his back.

Shaky was walking next to No-Bark, laughing as he told a story that was mostly incoherent and made absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever.

Birch and Oak met us at the gate, both rushing up to Salt when they saw Celery.

"Are ya alright daughter?" Birch asked with concern.

"I'm fine daddy, Bandage fixed me up, again."

"My thanks lass."

I nodded again, I was exhausted, I wanted to shed my armor, curl up on my sleeping bag and just sleep for a good long while. But, there were still things to do, hurt ponies to look over, my hippocratic oath was kicking my flank up and down Trottingham this particular day.

Lot’s of gunshots and burns, a few more injuries due to those damnable arrows, and one White-Leg stallion had half a kitchen knife broken off in his gut.

I shambled back to my shack, blankly walking through the victory celebration. Stumbling through the door, I shed my gear and my barding, then promptly collapsed on my sleeping bag. My attempt at sleep was interrupted by Token laying down on me, I pried one heavy ass eyelid open and stared ahead at myself. There was a small, filthy mirror in front of me, illuminated with blue magic. Token’s face was next to mine, smiling at our reflection.

“See?” she whispered, “Still as gorgeous as ever.”

I sat up and took hold of the mirror, examining myself. Still basically the same, but with a lot more scars. The two on my face were thin, and black, very noticeable in contrast with my white coat. I had lots of faint circular scars dotted along my torso where I’d been shot not even a week ago. My mane was messy, but not filthy, like it felt on a daily basis, and my coat was in a similar state, though pockets of soot could be seen here and there.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

She nuzzled my ear and pressed her mouth to it, “Why just a guess? You should know that you’re pretty.”

“Sure.”

She shook her head and tsked, then wrapped her forelegs around my neck in a loose hug.

“Say it.” she said.

“What?”

“Say you’re pretty.”

“You’re pretty.”

“No idiot, say that you’re pretty, compliment yourself on your good looks.”

“I’m pretty.” I said awkwardly.

She overtook the mirror with her magic and set it down, then turned my head and kissed me on the lips.

“Yes, yes you are, now, let’s get some sleep.”

I nodded tiredly and laid down next to her, she turned me towards her, I pressed my face into her soft chest and fell asleep as she cradled me.

Sleep was not blissful, they haunted me, the burning faces. Melting away, screaming my name, begging to die, over and over and over. I couldn’t wake up, I wanted to, was pleading to, but something wouldn’t let me. I watched their deaths, the slow agony of burning to death, for what seemed like hours before finally being shaken out of it.

I was drenched in sweat, my mane matted, my sleeping bag soaked, panting like a frightened animal. Token was stroking my mane, trying to calm me down, whispering in my ear, nuzzling me, holding me. I didn’t sleep, didn’t want to sleep, it started raining again and I stepped outside and sat in a slouch against the shack in the downpour to cool myself off. Stripe asked me if I was alright, I nodded, he patted me on the shoulder and went inside. Shaky asked the same thing, I nodded, she said bullshit, I started crying, she sat in my lap and talked about some of the stories No-Bark had told her until I was laughing too much to cry.

I thanked her, she smiled and gave me a short hug before trotting into the shack.

Footnote: Level Up!

New Perk: Toughness (1): Damage threshold +3

Skill Note: Melee (25)