Finally the day has come. I’m old enough to be a proper raider. I couldn’t live like a slave with these motherfuckers anymore.

The day started like any other. It was cold, I’ve stood up and put my clothes on. Got my knife and hid it in my bag. It was my only property.

I went out of the small shack, where everyone slept.

Outside the house, the raider camp welcomed me. The place where I’ve grown up. It was surrounded by walls in a weird six-sided shape. The camp had five main part.

Nearby the gate there was the sleeping shack. After the shack, there was the storage. We’ve kept all the food, water, weapons and armors we’ve had there. Only the gang leader was allowed to give anything to anyone. The storage was followed by our arena and jail. This was on the opposite side from our sleeping shack. I loved watching all those hopeless ponies fighting just to live another day in their cells. The arena was followed by our leader’s tower, the place where I was headed. That’s where the gang leader lived. It had a nice view on the arena and on the wasteland too, in case someone would get close. The whole camp was made out of steel scraps, and wood. It was pretty dull.

I’ve rushed inside the building. When I got in, I was in the restroom. It had some chair in it, a table in the middle and a couch full of patches. The room seemed comfy. On the second floor, all I could see was a closed door, so I went on. Finally on the third floor, there was the gang leader.

He was a red coated earth pony with white mane and a skull cutie mark. I could see in his eyes that he was a bit tired, since it was still quite early. He had a revolver on his side and was in armour already. His name was Dead Shot.

“I’m an adult now, get me a real mission,” I said.

Every time, when I was talking to him, I was forced to hold myself back from swearing. One wrong word, and he would execute me.

“Easy, Cold Blood, you haven’t even got your cutie mark,” said Dead Shot.

That was true, I was a blank flank and being a slave didn’t help you to find your “special talent”.

“I know, but come on, I’m older than a lot of your raiders, I even learned using weapons with magic on my own. I can care for myself in the wasteland,” I said.

“Hmm, you might be right,” replied Deadshot. “But you’ll have to prove yourself then.”

“After all these fucking years, I’m ready to do anything, just to not be a slave anymore,” I said.

“We’ll see,” - he said, with an evil smile that made me uncomfortable. - “You see other raiders started to organize a group nearby. They’re about an hour on hoof to north-east”

“And what do we care about those idiots?” I replied.

“They could mean a threat to the gang,” - said Deadshot. - “I want you to go there, and murder the one who’s behind all this. I give you twenty-four hours.”

“Uhm what? Twenty-four hours?! And what if I fail?” I said.

“Lets just say, that either you bring me his head, or I’ll get yours, ” - smirked Dead Shot. - “I don’t want to see crying foals around me, asking for a better life as a raider, so in your place, I would hurry.”

Twenty-Fucking-Four hours.

My whole life depends on just one day. Great, I’ll just need to get there, fight through myself a lot of raiders, kill their leader and get back in time. Sounds easy… right? Fuck I feel like I’m already dead.

Alright, think Cold Blood, think…

Dead Shot said, in an hour by hoof, I could get there. So, I could have plenty of time. Also, Deadshot told me I get to choose one weapon from our storage, just as a small help. I should choose wisely.

As I got to the entrance of the armory, a brown stallion stopped me. He had a bag on his head with two holes for his eyes. I assumed from his tail color, that his mane color was also gray. He had a knife as a cutie mark.

“The fuck,” I yelled.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” he said.

“Dead Shot told me that I could have a weapon for my mission, now get the fuck out of my way,” I said with anger.

“I know, you little bitch,” - replied the stallion. - “Here, you can choose from these weapons, but not from the others.”

He showed me 3 weapons. A 10mm pistol with a silencer, a Scoped Assault Carbine and a Combat Shotgun.

“And who the fuck says that?” I asked.

“Who else than, Dead Shot, now choose a weapon, I’m running out of patience.”

Fuck, no time to think through a plan. Alright, I obviously don’t want the shotgun, because I want to stay hidden. Fighting a lot of ponies at once would just get me killed after all.

In the end I chose the pistol. Staying in the shadows, and killing my target with one shot, that wasn’t loud sounded the best option. As I strapped it to my side, I just felt a bit more safer.

Weapon, check.

Now I’m going to need some armor, just for the worst case. I didn’t have any, and I didn’t think I’d get from the armory.

After a walking around, I found a small area full of junk.

“Of course, we throw here everything that we don’t need, ” - I said. - “I’m sure I’ll find something useful.”

Overall, I found some metal plate. I brought them to the workshop, and after about an hour of working on them, I managed to put armor on my flank and shoulders. It wasn’t much, but I could survive one or two shots thanks to them.

Armor, barely but check.

All I needed was now some water, food and some healing potions.

I asked the stallion before the armory, if I could get some, but he didn’t give me any. All he said was that I could have a last lunch.

The food was, as always, cooked radroach. I don’t think, I ever ate anything other than that, but this time it felt a tiny bit tastier. As if knowing that I’m going to die made me to appreciate it more.

After lunch, I went to a mirror. We had one in the shack.

There I was. Barely having any armor on my brown-ish orange fur. Under the armor, I still had the light brown clothes, I’ve put on this morning. I straightened my black mane, since I hated that usual ”Raider Hair Style” everyone had. I tried to get fond of it, but it just wasn’t me.

I was ready.

Footnote: Perk Unlocked: Unique style
+1 Charisma point.
You have a different mane style than the usual raiders. You can try to lie about your origins.