I closed my eyes, lifting my head to feel the hot water flowing through my tangled mane, its pleasant heat trailing down my aching back. The steaming liquid soothed my tense eyes and helped remove the dry, cottony taste in my mouth, as I rehydrated with the iron-tasting tang of the stream pouring forth from the showerhead. I released a pleased sigh as it poured across my face.

Damn, am I glad this place has a working water talisman and a spark generator sustainable enough to heat said water.

That plentiful fact in mind, I reared upright, forehooves pressed against the wet tiles. It afforded me a long moment of warm, pleasurable bliss. Seconds later I bowed my head beneath the flow, opening my eyes and glimpsed downward towards the grimy tile floor.

In the water which streamed towards the drain, a concoction of dirt, blood, sweat, and probably a great deal more undesirable substances flowed from my grime ridden coat to form a vile cesspool of disgusting liquids. Such a mess was quickly swept into the mysterious oblivion of the drainage piping by the falling water, leaving the modesty clean, enamel-coated, ceramic tiles and my white coat free of filth once more.

My fur was not the problem however, I just had to get the last of the hardened grime out of my mane, and that was proving more problematic. I paused to balance myself against the wall with one forehoof before dragging the other roughly through the thick mess of hair upon my skull, managing to painfully prune the light blue strands enough to at least make me look presentable, or as presentable as anypony could look out here anyway.

Regardless, the pain was only a minor inconvenience compared to the overall sensation and I was kind of lost in the relaxing fantasy. For what it was worth I only knew one other place in the wasteland that could offer such a comforting service and no way I was giving any of my caps to those stuck up snobs over at Tenpony. Besides, here freelancers got it cheap. Well, cheap as any hot water is in the wasteland, but damn it was worth the caps. They would frequently try to pay us scavengers as few caps as they could get away with, but…

Ah, just shut up brain. I told my irritatingly patronizing consciousness, turning the hoof I'd set to cleaning my mane into a blunt weapon as I whapped it soundly against my skull in an attempt to discipline my thoughts.

With that I pressed my hoof back to the wall and then sighed, water droplets flicking from my muzzle as the long breath escaped me. The few extra minutes of paradise I'd promised myself a moment ago were unfortunately up and I pushed back from the wall, falling back down onto all four hooves.

I really wished I had a spell to replicate this feeling, it being one of many things I wished there was a simple magical solution for. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a spell which could simulate this wonderful state of being, so with another soft sigh, I reached back with a hoof and once again dragged the limb through the hardened, encrusted forest that was my dirtied mane. This time I put in a little more force, resulting in a few more painful twinges. Nevertheless, I yanked most of the remaining grime free and left it to fall into the drains with the last shreds of its foul ilk.

A moment later I shook myself vigorously, flinging what dirt was left onto the tiles around me. Upon finishing the last of my grueling tasks, my eyes fell upon the aged faucet. The chipped, silver metal was covered in a patchwork of rusted spots and flaking blue paint. The same faded mess covered most of the vast network of pipes that ran throughout Churn.

After living and working here for so long I'd kinda gotten over the whole so close to perfection yet so far thing, which the ponies threw around here. I worked, earned a decent living, and even got a discount on a room, bed, and shower. All of which were private, might I add. It was at that moment that there was a loud knock, and my ears fell sharply.

It was almost private.

I looked out from the shower to the large metal door across from me, the sole entrance to my private quarters. As if waiting for the honor of attracting my gaze, the sound of hooves against metal continued. My frustration at being disturbed was lightened slightly, as I watched the huge metal wheel upon the door’s center struggle to turn, but to no avail.

Reluctantly, I placed a forehoof upon the faucet’s knob and finally forced the valve closed, sealing away that gorgeous flow of warm water.

Well, at least I still have the residual heat which I've absorbed through my coat and mane. I thought hopefully. Oh wait, that’s going to turn into a freezing inconvenience the moment I step out of here.

This place was so damn close to perfect, that the thought of leaving such comforts behind really did hurt.

"Dragon, you in there?" A deep, muffled voice asked from behind the thick, metal door.

I paused for a moment, eyes fixed on the steel mass as I raised a forehoof to my muzzle in thought.

Should I answerer him? Should I make him wait? I was certainly the only mare who could do so, and yet…

What was the point? I lowered my hoof in a light stomp.

"Yes, Star, where else would I be?" I told the door in a vaguely polite tone.

I could almost hear the relieved breath escape his muzzle as my response hit his ears.

"Griddle wants to see us upstairs," the buck stated, somewhat muted through the thick steel separating him and I.

I turned from the door, not caring to look at the silver-grey expanse now that there wasn’t something to engage my attention. As for the pony he’d mentioned, the only time I ever wanted to see her was when…

"She's got our pay," he added, his gruff voice breaking eagerly.

"I'll be right out!" I called swiftly, stepping out of the shower and onto the aged, metal-plated floor of my room.

"Be waiting for you up there," the stallion's voice added before the heavy clopping of hooves signaled his retreat.

Well, another job, another payment. I mentally told myself unable to help but feel a sense of pride.

No matter what I had to see of Griddle, she still had a pretty good place going here, not to mention the discounted rooms, caps, and…

You should really stop repeating yourself when it comes to your glorious benefits. My mind scolded.

I simply shook off the complaint as I looked about. Like most chambers down here in the underground, it was small, really it was just large enough for a bed and a place to put one’s luggage. Because the rooms were subterranean, they naturally lacked any windows whatsoever. The walls were a dull gray and made from a metallic patchwork of panels that, at first glance, created an illusion of smooth, solid surface only to reveal the network of rusted pipes and faulty wiring beneath through its many openings. And don’t even get me started on the spiders and cobwebs hiding everywhere.

I had to admit, it was not the most appealing interior decoration, but this wasn't some fancy pre-war masterpiece built by Stable-Tec. In truth, it was just so close to perfect, but still so far. The roof was almost identical, albeit there were sets of flickering white lights, the glow of which accompanied the dull, red ambiance that filled every room in Churn’s underworld. The floor was no different. In fact, the only break in the scenery was the dirty, enamel tiles of the bathroom and my torn and threadbare furniture.

There was a bedframe, adequately manufactured from old rebar that supported the best mattress I could find. Again, it was as good as one could get without restoring the world to how it was prior to the apocalypse. At either side of the bed was a small metal cabinet, each holding a worn out lamp and on the right an old radio. Across from me, pressed against the far wall, was a large gun cabinet and to the right of that was a workbench, a varied assortment of magical weaponry hanging upon an old tool rack above it.

Finally, a tall glass display case housed most of the rare or interesting curios that I'd found while traveling. Most of its contents consisted of gems, which I found uses for. There were also three or so memory orbs which contained memories that I was fond of, and a mint condition Red Racer scooter. Most of the other salvaged items were things that I intended to sell, including some guns and spare parts, and I knew some lucky foal would probably appreciate the scooter someday.

I also had some ammo which was just another thing I intended to sell to whatever shop was willing to buy it. Admittedly, I didn't use a lot of it as my preferable combat style (magical energy weapons) only saw me keeping things along the lines of spark packs and batteries. The more common variants of ammo like bullets on the other hoof gained me more than a little extra caps.

I grinned at that thought as I levitated a towel from its resting place upon one of the many heating pipes.

Well, at least it’s warm. I thought, as I dried off and turned my blue and cyan mane from a wet sludge, to a frizzy mess.

There was one other thing I'd forgot to mention. I recalled it as my gaze met a mirror sitting on the left wall near my bedside. Staring back at me from the faded surface was the image of a white-coated, unicorn mare with a deep blue mane, her parted bangs bordered on either side by cyan streaks, the color almost matching her electric blue eyes. Upon her flank was a cutie mark that sported a draconic wing, its flared surface formed from shimmering blue crystals as it was enveloped by a lighter blue flame.

Well, that pretty much described how I looked, my name was Dragonfire. But I'd looked into the mirror a thousand times and all that would change was how it hung as I repositioned it every time it inevitably fell off the wall. I really ought to do something about that, since having decent looking glass was a rare luxury. Having mine break meant that I’d not be able to determine if I was at least somewhat presentable before going out amongst the public. Moments later I shook the last of the water from my mane and looked to the end of my bed. Sure enough, sitting within my rumpled, disheveled quilts was my combat barding.

It was unlike that of any normal westlander's gear, however. One of my skills happened to involve the heavy customization of everything I owned, and my barding was no exception. It was made from a greatly modified mix of security enforcement barding and lightweight military gear.

You'll find nothing short of power armor that can beat my stuff. That was something I always told myself and I had no small amount of pride in my ability.

Even so, I'd bet a hundred caps that I could give any one of those fancy Steel Rangers a run for their caps in a fight. Firstly, most of the underlying plates were practically bulletproof, and add to that my special modification, a thin, but flexible layer of dragon scales and I was practically invulnerable to penetrative attacks. As for where I'd gotten such scales? Let's just say a pony doesn't earn the amount of discounts that the places I shopped at gave me, for being as standard as every other mercenary out in the wasteland.

As for the rest of the armor; it was pretty standard, saddlebags and holsters for all the weapons a pony could ask for. I also wore tail and hoof guards, thereby leaving my only potential weak point being the underbelly. But I was working on that, I certainly didn't want to lose anything down there after all.

Lastly, was my helmet. Modified for a unicorn of course, and taken from an old suit of power armor. I'd had to remove most of the heavy stuff, yet thanks to the scales, it was still just as strong. However, it wasn’t any of that stuff that set me apart from my fellow mercs. I'd always wondered why the stable ponies we always heard about over the years ever needed a targeting matrix, that was until I got one of my own. I mean, I knew I was a brilliant shot, and this was no stable-tec S.A.T.S mumbo-jumbo, nor anything like the helmet’s original systems. But I had something that I knew most ponies out there didn’t, a Pip-Buck.

It was a family thing, passed down from when some old relative first emerged from one of those iron, death tombs they called Stables. Yet as far as I knew, I was the only one who’d actually tinkered with the thing. I’d mainly looked at the E.F.S as well as using what I could salvage from the armor. Ultimately my efforts broke some of the Pip Buck’s programming, and I’ll admit to being somewhat proud of that because breaking one of those things was hard no matter how ancient they were.

Nevertheless, after a few long weeks of tampering, I'd finally managed to get some of the power armor’s old systems working again. I liked to think of it as my own deadly advantage, not too dissimilar from the original stable-tec technology. Granted, it wasn’t as good as the original programming, but it was far better than not having anything whatsoever. Even if I usually had to clip the thing to my side or leg and hook it up to my armor that way. Regardless, with my gear, abilities, and skills, I was almost the perfect combat machine, and whenever I teamed up with my partner Star Strike, we became quite the duo in a fight.

Star Strike, the buck who had been at the door, was an earth pony. Thanks to his heritage, he was stronger than me, but brute strength only took a pony so far in the wasteland. He preferred to blast his enemies to bloody mist with big barrelled guns like most bucks. A compensation thing among most of them, I was certain. To put it simply; however, I didn’t particularly care for his combat tactics. In fact, Star was lucky I even agreed to listen to him at all.

That thought made me snicker to myself slightly as I tossed the towel aside and turned to the door.

"Well super advanced, not quite perfect, but close enough barding," I stated happily to nopony in particular, other than my gear lying idly on the bed. "I need to go see the goddess of ugly herself, and unless you have suddenly upgraded yourself with a blackout filter..." I snickered again at the thought of my armor gaining sentience and performing upgrades and maintenance upon itself just to spare me the horror.

"I'll see you later."

Griddle was the mare in question, and I really didn't want to see her. Nevertheless, I ran a hoof over my mane as best as I could, trying to ensure that I looked somewhat presentable and that no stray locks interfered with my vision. I almost wanted to thank the steel door that greeted me for keeping Star out, even though I was the one to lock it. Goddesses forbid that stallion ever see me in the shower! In fact, I'll bet that when I show up to this meeting without my usual barding, that he'd get an eye full, even if every other mare wore the bare minimum too.

Oh well, I guess that this could work out in my favor. I thought wryly.

I still wanted to be the one alpha mare that was in control and in charge of her huge earth pony stallion. Figuratively speaking, of course.

With that in mind, I slid the lock clamps open and then turned the opening mechanism. Within the hulking door, there were a few mighty clunks as I enveloped the handle in an electric-blue colored magic and pulled it open. The metal groaned reluctantly as I swung it forward.

Beyond, a long, metallic, cylindrical tunnel greeted me. It was not too dissimilar to my room, though the walls in the claustrophobic corridor were made from even more water pipes and valves. They were just as poorly hidden away, as some of the paneling was either starting to come loose or was missing altogether and showed what lay beneath for anypony to see, like some cheap two-bit whore that flashed her goods for anypony that might be interested. Amongst the pipes and valves ran a web of waterproof wires. At least I assumed they were waterproof, the lack of electrocuted corpses suggested that much at least.

Somewhere far below, the dull hum of generators mixed with the much closer sound of water running through the pipelines. Intermingled with these noises was the hiss of escaping steam, the metallic tang of rusting steel and the humidity of non-siphoned steam that turned the tunnel into a sauna. It was hot enough here to begin with, considering the town was located in a desert and the constant, sweltering heat that often plagued environments like this one. Dull, red lights glowed from their attached spots on the top of the tunnel, thereby illuminating the steam. The crimson bulbs; however, were hidden among the thick pipework above as if somepony had gone to great lengths to shroud each one, while still allowing their light to illuminate the surrounding area.

In the end, I didn’t care what the place looked like, and the hostelry management possibly had their efforts wasted as some other pony had put up the occasional white bulb, the likes of which were hung from the mass of pipes on short wire cords. The floor clanked and rattled with each hoof step, the metal frame suspending the walkway millimeters above the warm pipes. As I moved along the corridors I passed several other large doors. The thick layers of concrete that surrounded them were the only disturbances in the constant stream of pipes which simply flowed around the obstacles like some strange metallic river, retaking their former alignment once they'd passed.

The thick steel doors were all the same, the only difference being the occasional splattering of paint and nameplates hammered in just above the central valve. First, I passed Winter Scythe's, or simply Winter's on the left, then Death Mark’s on the right. I just trotted on without so much as batting an eye. I'd walked through this corridor a thousand times, the other mercs that operated out of Churn were nothing new and neither were their rooms. As one may expect from competitors in our particular field of work, we didn't mingle much. It was a stretch that we could all coexist in the same town and goddesses forbid that the work should ever start to dwindle.

Star had told me about such a thing almost tearing the town apart once before I arrived. It was the major factor as to why we didn't mingle anymore. Only finding myself here after such a calamitous event, I'd kept thinking about it frequently in the back of my mind, especially when close to anypony but Star. Yet for all of my caution, I only ever occasionally got disapproving looks and heard the odd mumble of jealous muttering. I couldn't say we were any better, but I wasn't one for letting my guard down.

As I approached the end of the corridor, I passed a blue stained door, and it at least gained a glance from me. Star Strike was the name carved upon it. My partner had been an experienced merc for some time before I'd found myself here. I'd lost a lot at that point and I'd been anxious to find something worthwhile in this hell we called a world. That opportunity came only two days after I arrived in town and I'd proved just what I was made of, albeit nearly getting what I was made of eaten in the process.

Even so, that dragon was nothing compared to how Star treated me at first. The gray coated earth pony with coal black mane was far larger than me. His crimson comet cutie mark, hardened battle scars, and brutal attitude didn't do him any favors when it came to charm either, and that was before I'd even seen him in the tank-like gear he called barding. On the contrary, I had to admit that I was kinda open when it came to anypony naked, especially on a bed. But back then I'd come a long way and lost a great deal. I'd a good track record with bold bucks and I'd made that clear the first time he'd tried to have his way.

I couldn't help but giggle slightly at that thought, well aware that he was never gonna try it on with a frisky unicorn mare again, especially me, nopony ever tried it with me. Yet that was a long time ago, years even. A lot had changed since, and the intimidating brute I once found myself stuck with was now practically a brother to me, not a replacement for one but…

No, shut up brain! I hissed mentally, once again bringing a hoof to bear against the side of my skull in an attempt to change the direction my train of thought was going in.

It didn’t matter what he was to me, I'd stand by him and I was sure he'd do the same. It was practically marriage, only with less lovey-dovey crap and more killing, caps, and sex. Well, depending on one's preference, but like I said, I was about as straight as a blind Hellhound when it came to the latter.

I stopped again at that thought, grinning to myself.

Fuck you brain! What did I say about fantasizing? I mentally cursed, but my thoughts countered by reminding me how much I loved this life, doing so with a rather… Well, let's not go into the type of memory which had proceeded your inner monologuing. Type of tone.

Nevertheless, as hard as life was out there in the Marejarvie wasteland, I had made a damn good life for myself. It would never be as good to how life had been before the bombs, but it was pretty damn close to perfect.

"What are you smiling at?" a slurred voice mumbled, snapping me from my daydream.

See brain? This is why we don't fantasize like some little school filly! I told myself scornfully, turning to see a green coated buck leaning against a rusted railing at the tunnel's mouth.

His mane was a ragged brown and a rifle clip cutie mark dawned his flank beneath what appeared to be the loosely fitted leather under barding for a currently unequipped battle saddle. He scowled at me, eyes drooping lazily as he fought to keep them there. One of the town security ponies, one clearly off duty, I noted swiftly. Did he really need to ask that question, though? I was about to get paid. What else would I be smiling about?

"What's it to you?" I asked bluntly.

"Nothing, just that a pretty face like you shouldn't be wandering about at… Urm, what time is it?" he mumbled with a drunken gulp, glancing at the cloudy sky before staggering clumsily towards me.

Great, off-duty and drunk. By the goddesses, if us real fighters weren't around I swear this place could be overrun by a lone Radroach.

The idiots were the town's new security force, and they'd been sent down from up north. That was New Pegasus, NCR territory. The New Coltifornia Republic and all that their situation entailed. They liked to think all of the lands south of there were a part of their... country, organization... Confederacy? Whatever they called it. They didn't seem to realize that politics had died once Balefire engulfed the country.

That didn't stop them from trying to sweet talk all large settlements in the south Marejarvie into accepting their new republic, while still fighting their wars. They sure had a funny way of showing the benefits. The security ponies they offered seemed more like a group of paid off gang members they’d simply dressed up nice and pretty. I'd seen their real rangers and these stupid fuckers were about as far from them as a mosquito is from a dragon.

Eyes narrowing, I didn't even flinch as the drunken buck slumped forward, falling flat on his muzzle before me. The catwalk rattled as his rear followed him to the floor and slouched down, finally came the sound of his snoring. I rolled my eyes at the sorry state of this town’s security officer.

If he keeps drinking like that, he’s going to end up dead, either by the criminal element or one of the monsters that live outside. My mind remarked.

Firstly, how could anypony fall asleep so fast? Secondly, I didn't have time to deal with drunk little colts and fillies!

And to think that these chumps are supposed to protect us! Bah! No wonder the civilians are so desperate to have battle-hardened warriors stay in their town! Even they must see how lacking their so-called security ’is! I mentally added as I trotted out from the tunnel and onto the catwalks of Churn.

The city guards were supposed to protect all of the families, the food, and materials, and not to mention the water talismans themselves. These clowns were all that stood between the wasteland and everypony else in Churn. Ultimately, they would have descended into chaos and anarchy without us around. Actually, that last reason was why the city’s citizenry gave us better mercs perks to stay around. That, and the twelve or so of us could easily do the work of a hundred of these sloppy, undisciplined foals.

I sighed in exasperation and absolute utter disgust of Churn’s politics and bureaucracy. One got what they paid for after all and considering the town didn't pay its guards squat, my expectations were low, to begin with. Besides, it was none of my concern, so I swiftly shoved the thought from my head and looked about. Now outside of the tunnels, I could see the suspended metal maze that was the town of Churn. A ragged ring of rock formed the outer perimeter of the large sinkhole into which the town was built, the dull gray cloud cover and equally depressing shallow sunlight hung above the rim. It was a sight I was sure everypony in the wasteland knew all too well.

Running along the jagged inner walls of the sinkhole was a vast sprawl of metal catwalks, ladders, ropes, chains and stairs, which all connected to the cliff face like a massive spider web. The buildings hung from the metallic strands like trapped flies precariously clinging to the sheer rock. Most were used for trade, some of the buildings were homes to those ponies who didn't reside in the tunnel networks below. All of them were tattered and old, yet despite their rough and weathered appearances, they still provided a decent shelter. Those ponies who specialized in trade often found plenty of trading opportunities here, since the multiple trade caravans throughout the desert that frequently stopped by ensured that there was never too serious a shortage of goods.

There were some exceptions to the numerous homes and traders, however. One was Willow’s bar, a long metal shack down at the base of the cliff. Neon lights covered the front of the bar, at the very least displaying the establishment’s name amidst their orgy of color. Atop its roof sat a jagged metal plate cut into the shape of a palm tree. The rusted image of something that may have once been alive had been converted to look more like a willow tree, bands of fiber-optic cable hung in sheets from the sharp points covering the door. Finally, a bold neon sign read Willow’s; Good food, good booze, good fun.

Those illuminated words were supported by several flashing bottles, filled to the brim with what I assumed was the neon light equivalent of alcohol. Beside them, a stiffly animated outline of a pink, dancing mare implied the fun aspect of the title. To the left of the bar, suspended by metal stilts, was the clinic. It was a similarly shabby shack, made only slightly more interesting by the light from its far more colorful neighbor. All it boasted for itself was a clouded window and a weathered ministry of peace symbol upon its front wall. Above the door was a sign, a sheet of metal cut into the shape of a leg bone, exhibiting the chipped words Marrow’s apothecary, and no not the vegetable.

The only other major notable structure consisted of the Hydro plant, a huge concrete slab-shaped building at the far end of the canyon, the trademark Hippocampus Energies: Hydroelectric, Coal, and Sewage boldly written on the front. Four distinctive waterways rose up through rusted piping, heading toward the center of the building before disappearing within. Above them was the spillway, from which gushed a huge torrent of foaming water from the lake. The water came to rest in the deep reservoir at its base. Most of the bottom of Churn was built around the Slick, a concrete waterway that fed out from said reservoir.

More pipes added to the flow as it slithered out of the deep pool and into the shallow spillway, the likes of which crept steadily down the canyon. Some pipelines fed into the flow directly, while others had been severed by either the wear and tear of time or because of Churn’s new inhabitants that liked stripping sections of pipeline for some quick caps. As a result, water simply erupted from the severed pipelines in a horrid brown froth. From up here, it was hard not to think of the whole thing like some kind of rusted old water park.

Most of what else remained of the spillway lay beneath my hooves. A square pool where the water once again became deep and still, and was now used to farm Radigators. At least a dozen of the mutated beasts drifted in the sickly water. I'd heard ponies claim that they were a lot less hostile than their wild cousins, yet that didn't stop those same ponies from putting an electric fence above them as indicated by the buzzing of the wires running around the edge of the pool. It didn't stop the things from tasting good either, no matter what anypony said about ponies eating meat.

Below that, the water cascaded down into a black, churning pit, before being sent off into the mass of pipework within the rocks. The inky black mass gushed and bubbled like some ancient sea monster and was the very pit for which Churn was named. As for the water talisman? It lay down in that mess of hydro electrical systems somewhere. One thing was for sure, I certainly was glad I wasn't one of the ponies that had to risk their life down there to maintain the damn thing. In my opinion, such a marvel of the enchantment capabilities of Hippocampus Energies should be incredibly self-sustaining.

But this place was not a Stable, despite how close to perfect it managed to get. Other than that, there were only two other structures worth mentioning. The Spire, a rusted old bucket of a radio tower suspended close to the earthen depression of the sinkhole’s edge. It was the only building to have windows with a view of the wilderness above, most of which had been shattered. It was by far the most precarious building, not to mention the huge radio spire that reached up above the rim of the cliff and into the dull wasteland sky above. The crumbling old metal frame was far from new, as were the disintegrating dishes high upon its slanted peak. However, while we were lacking reception from Tenpony and therefore the famed DJ pony, we did get the stuff coming out of New Pegasus, and then there was Rapid.

She was the lone mare who spent all of her days up in the Spire trying to be just like all those other radio ponies. To give the filly credit, the broadcast wasn't terrible and she had access to all the records she could find. I'd even done the occasional odd job to get her some of those records myself. Besides, it wasn't like every town could boast its own radio station now, could they? Even if, once again, its quality was not quite perfect. That left just one structure left worth mentioning, the Spit.

No, Griddle’s office isn’t worth mentioning at all. I mentally sighed.

I was just stuck heading there so I had nowhere else to divert my eyes. Like everything else, it was a rusted box of corrugated metal, pressed right up against an undercut section of cliff. The dilapidated walls had been reinforced with beams of steel and pipes, as well as chains that ran down from the rock above. At the front, looking out over the rather obscured view, was a balcony. I'd never understood why anypony would want to have a balcony while practically living underground, but the rugged platform and red curtains that covered its entrance proved somepony did. Didn't need to guess who that pony was.

I felt my ears pressed flat against my head and my steps grow heavy as I approached the metal stairs leading up to the shack. Griddle. She was like a brooding dragon and the Spit was her lair. Sometimes I wished I could slay that dragon, I was no stranger to the art after all. But Griddle was the head of Churn and our employer. Killing her would only ensure she'd no longer have to suffer the horrible fate of having to give some of her precious caps away. Yet as much as I'd like to see her suffer so much pain and agony, she wasn't a monster.

That was my code, one I'd like to think I stuck by honorably. One that prohibited the slaughter of anything other than monsters, be it a beast or an equally monstrous pony. As I thought about that, an armored security pony stationed beside the Spit's stairs met me.

What is that mundane crap they called barding? It's a piece of shit compared to my own? I thought to myself.

Yet at least this pony seemed to be doing his job, and hopefully, he wasn't drunk. If he was, then getting in wasn't going to be as simple as I was hoping it would be. As I came closer, I saw the guard take notice of me, be it for my apprehensive looks or the fact that I was almost dragging my hooves while traversing the catwalk. Regardless, his head and ears rose sharply, his tired eyes widening.

Snoozing on the job? I assumed typically.

I couldn't see clearly, but his coat appeared to be crimson, his mane and tail a light purple and he was a unicorn.

"Ah, Dragonfire the boss is expecting you," he told me in a curious tone, lifting the social bar that firmly prevented him from being anything more than any random pony I'd just met and tossing it aside with a smug grin.

My ears instantly perked, noticing the mention of my name and his friendly tone, a little too friendly for my liking. I stopped before him, remembering that barricade of social status and frowning at its now dilapidated condition. There were two ways I could do this, the hard dragon slaying Dragonfire way, or the seductive, sly and brutally cruel Dragonfire way. I smiled, giving him an appreciative gaze as I lightly placed a hoof on the metal stairs.

"Thanks," I purred while passing him slowly.

His eyes widened further and he gulped in apprehension. My enticing glare had all but hypnotized him, and like a hungry predator stalking its cowardly prey, I could sense he knew he was in way over his head. He still went for it however, just like any typical buck who let their dick make decisions for them, instead of utilizing higher thought processes from the meat in his head.

"Don't mention it," he replied, trying to copy my smooth, suave, confident tone before his voice cracked from nervousness.

He squirmed, seeming to hope I didn't notice as he glanced downward sheepishly. Humoring him, I pretended I didn't, and wearing that sly, seductive smile once again, I teased him aurally as we parted ways.

"Well, see ya'."

I swiftly made my way farther up the stairs, putting an exaggerated sway into my hips and purposefully ensuring that my swaying tail flicked the tip of his broad, angular muzzle along the way. For now, I was feeling strangely generous, I was about to get paid, get drunk, and later tonight, get laid. Star had certainly earned it and I was only too happy to oblige. I'd give that security colt a chance, but if he was still gawking at my flank like he was right now whenever I came down…

Well, he was gonna get so much more than he'd bargained for. Not to mention what Star would think. With that in mind and a warm smile gracing my muzzle, I pranced happily up the stairs and through the thick iron door. Wait? Smiling? Oh, shit! Not a good idea! Fuck! It was too late…

Damn it brain, what did I tell you! I mentally hissed, as an unpleasant assortment of stern eyes turned my way, forcing my expression to twist into an awkward grimace.

The grim, unimpressed spheres that seemed to see the faults my happiness presented in my demeanor demanded otherwise however. The whole room had that dull, lifeless atmosphere to it, despite the ambient decoration. A tiny radio that sat on a shelf just to the left of where I'd entered gargled out ancient orchestral music that sounded more like a swarm of buzzing Bloatsprites than whatever it had once intended to be.

The crackling symphony shared the air with a damp, musky scent as well as the dull hum of the lights as they flickered. The interior walls were covered by sheets of untreated wood, one of the few places far enough away from any moisture to actually house the stuff without it rotting and they'd gone and painted them the same dull gray as the exterior. In fact, the only damn thing that made anything in here special was a lack of rust.

Under hoof, there laid an aged red carpet. Once it may have been something worth standing on, but now the color was faded and the scraggy fabric was just irritating, not to mention the acrid smell caused by a horrible over-usage of old detergents and carpet wash. The far wall was covered by a long row of filing cabinets, all neatly closed and ordered with metal plaques. In the wall to my left was the balcony, as well as a row of display cases containing a whole manner of useless junk.

And some ponies thought I was weird for having just a few? Then again, who was gonna question the leader of an almost perfect town?

To my right, in the center of the room, was an old oak wood desk. Displayed neatly upon its polished surface were a few intricately arranged pencils, a pot of old office supplies and a strangely pristine Hippocampus Energies branded coffee mug. The back wall behind the desk was formed from the cliff face into which the Spit was built. The walls merging less than seamlessly into the jagged rock, in fact, it looked as if a foal could have done a better job. In the center of the rear wall, a concrete block disrupted the naturally rough texture of the rock. It was similar to those that marked the steel doors in the tunnels, yet was far larger and held in its center a huge steel door.

I swear, did anypony really need a safe that big? It was basically a small stable!

Yet this was Griddle I was thinking of, the dullest, most boring, least likable pony around.

Oh, and did I mention the hoarding? The pony was a fucking lunatic when it came to keeping things.

The monstrous safe in the back was a testament to that entirely, and it wasn't solely reserved for the unknowable amount of caps she'd managed to scrounge up over the years either. Although, they probably took up a good portion of the space among the mountains of useless junk. It was almost like she was hiding things away in order to survive an apocalypse that had already happened. Well, that was her residence summed up in one mental rant, and I was yet to talk to her specifically. Speaking of which…

My smile faded as my ears pressed flat against my head. Those disapproving eyes I'd mentioned could only belong to one pony, and sure enough, that pony was still staring right at me. Griddle was a short, dark green coated unicorn mare with an almost black mane, laced with swampy green streaks. Her cutie mark was a sizzling grill, a cooked slab of some sort of meat upon it.

I'd never got that? How could she have a special talent for anything other than being a bitch? If anything her flank should be marked by a pile of useless shit or a picture of herself, not that there was much difference. Even so, according to everypony in town, the hoarder had once had a knack for cooking Radigator. I had another, more believable theory, however, supported greatly by the fact that the right side of her face was scarred. A hardened ridge of seared flesh crawling through her sickly coat and rather conveniently in the shape of a grill. To put it simply, my theory was the stupid fucker had burnt herself on a hot grill and got a cutie mark for it in the process, a rather sizzling special talent I had to say.

I had to fight not to smile again at the thought of that, lest I sour her gaze further. No matter what I thought of her, she was still the one with the caps, the jobs, and she ran the whole town. Although exactly how she did those things was beyond me.

Standing behind her, beside the demi-stable door, were two security ponies. One was a cream colored mare with a blue mane and the other was a gray colored buck. Both were earth ponies and I doubted either of the lazy pair would even move. At that, I almost felt sorry for them, anypony who was forced to spend a day in here, idiot or not, certainly deserved at least some sympathy. Yet they were not the only ones. Right beside Griddle was another pony. He was a larger unicorn, completely covered by black barding, his face encased in a similar dark combat helmet that covered his eyes and left all but his dark mane, tail, and horn to the imagination.

I'd never seen him before, but then again Griddle went through personal bodyguards faster than the wasteland chewed up ponies. Today's model must have been this, and it was certainly more intimidating than usual. Yet he did not scare me, in fact, my attention was focused strictly on his sides, and not for the reason most bucks were blessed with it. I had to fight back the urge to lunge at the magnificent magical energy weapon that was holstered there, the likes of which I'd never seen before, not even in pictures. Unfortunately, the holster covered most of it. The black metal emblazoned with a strange glyphic pattern as well as the symbol of an eight-pointed star. His barding also bore that symbol over where his cutie mark should be.

As I regarded him he seemed to notice me, glancing over without a word. In that moment I had a feeling a pair of eyes were looking at me in far more detail than I liked from behind that visor. I really hated it when ponies did that without my approval, and even when he looked away that irritation lingered. There were; however, exceptions to that rule, one of which was standing before the desk.

The large grey buck was still wearing his heavy under barding. Shreds of dirt and gore covered his metal shoes and I could imagine his actual armor and battle saddle were no less vile wherever he'd left them. Personally, I'd have welcomed the additional crap on my two-hundred-year-old rug, that was if I were Griddle. At that mental remark, I felt a strange lust to go back and get my dirty barding if only to stain her oh so precious carpet. My attention was focused too much elsewhere to sustain the idea for more than a few moments however. Looking over Star Strike, all I saw was the first buck who impressed me today, whether he knew it or not. Yet he was more than that. For beneath all the dirt, blood, and metal, I saw a friend. A friend who's eyes, as I'd expected, widened slightly at the sight me.

His grim expression quivered and once again I felt my mind threaten to force a smile onto my muzzle.

Brain no! I hissed scornfully. Stay professional!

"Loose the smitten look, you want to get paid right?" I couldn't help but snicker at the gawking stallion as I moved to his side.

His eyes rolled in exasperation, before returning back to their forward position.

"Whose payment would I miss?" he replied with an equally sly tone.

"Gawk at me again and you'll find out," I purred.

"Erm, ahem," Griddle coughed suddenly, interrupting the both of us as she raised a hoof to her muzzle in mild disgust.

She looked at us closely for a moment, her eyes scouring every detail.

Wow, hungry for shit and the sight of two ponies that aren't your tin foil guards? Arrr Griddle. I sighed to myself, still lost in a rather different trail of warm, lucrative thoughts.

"Are you two quite finished with your… ugh, pre-mating ritual?" The sound of her dry voice felt as if it sucked the fun right out of me, killing whatever lustful fantasy I had going with one swift swipe.

"Yeah, I think we are," I replied, almost challengingly.

Her eyes narrowed slightly and she scowled.

"Yes, well now that you are both here," she resumed, really reminding me how much I hated her voice.

It was like somepony had blown the legs off a Hellhound, taken a recording, thrown in some hissing ghouls for good measure and then shoved the recorder down her throat. Add to that a tone that demanded your full attention and a pony who believed every conversation was in her hooves no matter what, and you had that goddesses awful voice. Well, maybe the first bit was a bit of an exaggeration, but the wretched sound was still far from pleasant.

"I trust you can now provide the package?" Griddle asked in a strangely frustrated tone, before holding out a hoof towards Star.

The stallion gave a wry smile much to the green mare’s disapproval.

"Well, I don't know. What do you say, Dragon?" he asked, casually glancing down to me.

Oh, that was my Star Strike! I couldn't help but laugh to myself at the thought. Keeping what we'd retrieved from the last job out of Griddle’s hooves until I arrived? Awww, how sweet.

It was, after all, just about the only thing we could do to mess with her without getting our flanks kicked out of town, and my muzzle curled into a playfully appreciative grin.

"Go on, give her what she wants. I do wanna get paid," I told him nonchalantly.

He rolled his eyes again, a smirk still spread upon his muzzle. Then he reached a hoof back into his saddlebags and produced a golden trophy. One of the largest I'd ever seen and staggeringly well-preserved. Good thing too, we'd had to trot halfway across the wasteland to get the damn thing. The words 'Best Storm Chaser' were engraved on the rim of the bowl. With a thud, Star lightly placed the oversized golden mug on the desktop.

Griddle flinched slightly at the sound, before reaching out with her forehooves and clasping the two handles either side of the bowl. Star leaned forwards, resting an elbow across the rim, holding it down with his weight before Griddle could get a firm hold. The green unicorn stopped and stepped back, looking up with a scornful grimace at the smiling buck atop her prize.

"I take it the best young flyer tiara wasn't there then?" she asked, looking cautiously at his foreleg.

I sensed she was trying to deflect a question she knew was inevitable. Star meanwhile, shook his head.

"Your fancy golden headband wasn't there, but the contract was for whatever we could salvage if I recall, and I'd say this here's a might bit bigger then some shiny hat," he stated with a bored tone of disinterest.

Now it was time for my eyes to roll, then they swiftly fell upon Griddle as her expression contorted.

"I'm going to have to pay you first, aren't I?" the green mare finally sighed.

Neither of us had to give an answer before she dove beneath her desk, emerging a moment later with a jingling bag of caps. With an equally loud chime, Griddle placed her side of the trade upon the desktop.

"Thank you kindly," Star exclaimed, removing the impressive weight of his upper torso off of the trophy and scooping up the bag in his mouth.

Griddle eagerly retrieved her prize, grumbling to herself as she rotated it in her hooves.

"Well, I have to admit, apart from some disrespectful manners, I can't fault you two. The client will be happy to add this to their Rainbow Dash collection, I'm sure," she stated, while placing the trophy beneath her desk.

Wow, a compliment and a smile? Did that mean we were allowed to smile two? I certainly wasn't planning on competing!

I looked at Star Strike, only to see he was scouring the bag of caps more intimately than Griddle did her scrap.

"Don't worry, they're all in there," Griddle assured him as she moved from her desk and over to one of the filing cabinets.

I tried to divert my eyes from her as she walked, looking awkwardly around the room. As predicted, the two useless guards hadn't seemed to register anything, as for black barding pony? My eyes narrowed slightly as I saw him looking at me again, yet my disapproving expression did nothing to dismay his seemingly calculative gaze.

Goddesses, was he a damn robot under all that armor?

Yet his penetrating gaze was not like that I was used to, it was far from the instinctual drive that lingered within the mind of everypony. He was looking at me like I was some kind of object, no different than the trophy we'd just handed over to Griddle.

Rather strange for a bodyguard. My mind observed as I watched my weirdo meter spike.

I slowly glanced away from the buck, but then I looked back sharply as if to startle him. When that failed, I thought to blurt out something ridiculous in an attempt to garner the same response.

"If I'm anything, I'm a pony of my word." Griddle’s somewhat charismatic words stole my attention as she rummaged about in the cabinets and finally fished a piece of tattered paper from a draw named specialist jobs.

A pony of her word? I wondered.

Thinking back, I couldn't fault her on that one. Of all the things she may be, a fool, a hoarder, a grump, a miserable old bitch who stayed cooped up in this foul room all day. She had managed, with her weird ways, to keep this place going and keep all the ponies that lived here safe. Families and foals were spared the horrors of the wasteland and who was there to thank for that? Griddle.

I sighed to myself wearily. Putting it like that made heroism sound so dull, not to mention making me feel slightly guilty. I had to admit that I could be a real pain in the flank sometimes, but I still considered myself a good pony, not a hero though. Call yourself a hero out here in the wasteland and you're practically asking for it to chew you up. No, I did what I needed to get by, made use of the privileges I earned and helped anypony in need if I could.

But hey, look at me! I was opening up to–well... myself. I mean nopony other than me could hear these confessions right? I certainly hoped not.

Getting my thoughts back on track, Griddle never lied to us, maybe she was as obsessive-compulsive with being truthful as she was when it came to hoarding things. Wishing to just leave that mental topic in the dust however, I swiftly turned to Star.

"Come on, you know they're all in there," I told him jokingly, and he looked at me as if I'd dragged him back into something he'd tried to escape.

Oh, I see he just wanted a way to ignore Griddle. Damn, why didn't I think of that? I muttered to myself as Griddle trotted back to her desk.

"Arrr, I've been keeping this one for the past week," she muttered, glancing up at black barding pony before turning her eyes downward upon a piece of paper suspended in a green aura before her.

"It's another job for you two if you want it," she said, placing the tattered paper on her desk.

Firstly, I was surprised she wasn't flipping out at such a dirt-ridden thing being on her furniture. Regardless, the prospect of another job so soon was both intriguing and something I couldn't quite bring myself to care about. We'd gotten back from that stupid trophy fetch quest only last night. In fact, after falling asleep the moment I got back, all I'd done was got undressed, had a shower then came here. I'd not even cleaned my barding yet.

Yet if we were out on a job again I wouldn't have to, vigorously anyway. I'd done it before, back to back escort and retrieval missions. They all paid well and if we didn't take them then surely our competition would. Then there was that inevitably frustrating voice of reason swimming about in my head.

You need to rest, relax. You never know which job will be your last. By the Goddesses, it was worse than Griddle and I certainly wasn't gonna see the latter whisper transpire anytime soon.

That in mind, was I going to accept this job or…

"So where's this facility?" Star asked, leaning over the tattered note and looking at it closely.

Okay, so maybe we were accepting this job.

Well, all the more caps for us, was the new topic in my mind as I realized Star had already gone ahead on taking up the offer.

Moving closer to the table, I peered down at the tatted contract. Most was gibberish, scribbles that I took no time to read. I'd leave that to Star since he had the maps and the notes. I may have a tagging system, broadcaster, and half a Pip-buck, but like I said, it sure as hell wasn't one that liked to work. Destiny Corp. The faded title atop the paper was all I bothered to read.

"Client up north wants a code that they think is in the mainframe of the place," Griddle explained, pointing out that specific point of the written contract with a forehoof.

Even so, at her words I thought I saw a shiver run through her and she swiftly brought the outstretched limb back up to rub the scarred side of her face. Was she nervous, why? Had one of her snow globes gone missing again? Star didn't seem to pick up on it, instead, he looked up at her and sighed.

"The location?" he asked again, this time in a condescendingly slow tone.

Griddle snorted, any sign of nervous fading as her ego took a minor blow.

"Somewhere in the south Moohave mountains, across the Marejarvie. I don't have an exact location, but you should see it if you look around there," she explained, mocking Star's patronization with a condescendingly regal accent.

Neither looked amused as their eyes met again. I just watched and listened, one eye seeking to look and see if black barding pony was still gawking, only to see him standing as stoically as when I'd entered. At that confirmation, I focused on Griddle’s words. Around the south Moohave mountains? Well if I knew my wasteland, and I did, we'd be out there for a while and that would take us close to NCR territory as well as the western Marejarvie slaver towns. Then there was the idea of a job that involved terminals. I guess I'd be trying my hoof at hacking again. But we had things for that, most notably what still worked on my Pipbuck when it decided to function properly.

Yet I just liked to think I had a talent breaking into other ponies private files and extracting from hard drives.

Figuratively spanking... I mean speaking. Speaking! Damn it brain!

Regardless, I was grinning again. Griddle looked at my silly smile disapprovingly, Star just grinned in a similar fashion and the black barding pony at least had the decency to glance away.

"I'm sure we can manage," I chirped in a cheerful tone that didn’t betray my mental frustration with myself.

Nevertheless, the last of my thoughts escaped me with an uncountable giggle. That seemed to confuse my companions.

"But… " I forced what professionalism I could back into my tone as I floated up the bag of caps and shook it softly. "What's it worth?"

Star’s smile widened, Griddle’s frowned deepened. The large buck’s eyes turned to the sour-looking mare, the knowing smirk still parting his muzzle as he leaned in closer. Griddle stepped back, took a breath and said collectively.

"The client has offered a price of fifty thousand caps for the recovery of that data."

I could almost hear Star's jaw hit the desk as mine threaten to fall to the sour-smelling carpet.

Fifty thousand caps! Fuck yeah, we were doing this job!

There was no way I was going to let any of the others have it. Then again this was the wasteland and a client.

"Why so much? And why wait for us to get back?" I questioned, leaning forwards and raising an eyebrow.

Star seemed to recover at that, and instantly gave me a look that undoubtedly said; please don't fuck this up. All I gave him in return was a confident smirk. Thinking partly about how responsible I must look to him right now. Griddle looked at me curiously, she certainly didn't expect me, a lowly merc, to question the amount they were getting paid. Despite the fact I considered myself one of the smart ones. She opened her mouth, then closed it again when she ruminated upon whatever it was that she might have said. I once again saw that hint of nervousness in her expression. I edged closer until my forehooves brushed against the desk. Griddle straightened firmly, eyes glancing sharply to black barding pony, then to me.

"The client has failed to share that information with me. As for why I procrastinated, well you two are the most reasonable of our little group and I'd hoped you'd be less lightly to question this job."

I could almost see her gag on the irony, but goddesses had she got me wrong if that's what she thought, the others too.

I mean Death Mark and Winter were naive when it came to jobs maybe, but Cannon and Drake? I'd bet a hundred caps they'd have questioned this shit too. Regardless of my mental discussion, I just smiled and nodded. In the end, it didn't change anything.

"Okay, we'll take the job," I replied calmly.

I knew why a price was so high, this was probably a hive of fire ants we were going into or a Hellhound burrow. I wouldn't be surprised if this Destiny Corp. place was somehow filled with the goddesses damned pink cloud. Well either that or enough radiation to melt a pony's flesh to liquid. All I knew for sure was that it was gonna be dangerous...

Wait no, everything in the wasteland was dangerous, this would be especially, super-duper, ultra, mega dangerous!

I'd been in this business long enough to know that. But fifty thousand caps was surely worth it?

Fuck yeah, it was worth it! I snapped at my nagging concerns.

I straightened myself up, almost mirroring Griddle. An emphasis on almost, I wasn't nearly as ugly. Star looked at me before slipping our pay into his saddle bags.

"Mou fow fot bhen bou lct mart," he mumbled around the sack in his muzzle.

I was hot when I acted smart? That was the only thing my mind salvaged from his muffled sentence and what I immediately vocalized upon.

"Funny, you're the same when you're not," I teased.

He frowned, a fake and clearly transparent frown that was swiftly turned upside down.

"Well, the details are in the contract, as for the time limit? Well, there isn't one. The client only told me to get that data as soon as possible, but gave no specific limit," Griddle added, disturbing what to her must have been as awkward as fuck.

I turned to her, eyes closed and smiling merrily.

"Thanks, glad to make you feel that way," I practically sung, before turning to the door.

The green mare stammered before turning awkwardly red, then she fell timidly silent.

Ahh, Griddle you may have forbidden force, but you was practically a bullseye for this form of attack. I thought to myself giddily.

"Don't worry, we'll have that data back to you ASAP," I added, swiftly trotting toward the door and flinging it open.

Star followed, head slowly shaking as if he'd expected as much.

"Thanks again!" I called ecstatically, with a wave and grin to the green mare who was flushing so intensely she almost looked like a tomato. Well, she looked like the colored pictures that the few books I had showed in regards to tomato plants anyhow.

With that, I finally departed through the door and out onto the stairs, with Star Strike behind me. My horn flared and the rather satisfying slam of the door followed him.

This day is just getting better and better! I sang merrily in my head. Get paid, check. Now get drunk, get laid, then set out for fifty thousand caps in the morning!

I was almost like a school filly prancing down the stairs, the roar of water my backdrop and the metallic hoof steps my rhythm. That's when I glanced at the security buck at the base of the stairs.

Fuck, this couldn't go well.

My subtle glance was met with an equally anticipatory ogler.

Shit! Was all I could think as I recalled the way I'd acted toward him before. Urg... Now you're gonna have to do something to change that, damn it! My mind smirked.

I smiled back, all the while fighting the urge to face-hoof. When I'd passed him before, I'd been mildly pissed that I was gonna have to talk to Griddle. But then the job, that little twinge of guilt and mostly the promise of fifty thousand caps. Fifty thousand! Goddesses damn the irony! Now I was in a far better mood, lucky for him. Only now I had to think of a solution that didn't involve kicking his sorry flank for the way he spoke to me before.

The giddy smile on my muzzle slowed to a smirk as I reached the bottom of the stairs. Star's heavy hooves struck the metal behind me and unsurprisingly the large stallion’s presence did far more than arouse a sense of unease in the much smaller security pony. He squirmed, turning his eyes from me and pretending not to notice.

There, you could leave it at that. But.... Hurrr, goddesses damn my stupid sense of humor! I wasn't that cruel, well not on the eve of a payload I wasn't.

I looked back to Star.

"Hey, how's about you get that shit off, you look like a fucking zombie," I suggested, pointing to his still awfully dirty attire.

He looked back over his wide shoulders as if hurt by the suggestion. Then he raised an eyebrow curiously.

"I'll bet yours is no better?" he countered.

Touché. I mentally sighed to myself, my expression falling flat.

At least I'd the decency to take it off however, and take a shower.

"Just go take it off, Star. I'll meet you at Willow’s in about an hour," I told him dryly.

He gave me a wide-eyed look, the type that expressed confusion and in this particular stallion’s case, playful disobedience. My blank look broke slightly, as a smile curled across my muzzle.

"Do you want your caps or not?" I taunted suggestively, turning side on with a sly wink.

Okay so I wasn't made of Stubbornite, but still, even with the sight of me Star still managed to pull his eyes away long enough to roll them. Then with a playful snort, he made his way off and back into the tunnels. I sighed in relief. I didn't want to do that to him, but I didn't want him beating another pony senseless over me either, especially when it was my responsibility. I'd set up that joke and I'd grown tired of it. But in my defense, it had taken fifty thousand caps to bring me down a notch.

Swiftly, I turned to the security buck wearing the best smile I could muster. He looked genuinely surprised that he'd gotten me alone, despite the fact that I was the one to establish such a situation. Not that I could expect him to admit something like that anytime soon. Before he could get too excited however, I stopped in front of him and raised a hoof.

Fuck, you know this is really gonna damage your reputation if you slip up.

"Look, I'll bet you’re a real nice pony and all..." I whispered closely, leaning in toward his raised ear.

His joyful surprise was extinguished and replaced with a somewhat cheated expression.

Fuck! Why did I have to be in such a good mood, now he was looking at me as if I was the one underneath. Figuratively speaking!

"Right. Basically, I was just fucking around with you before, so... if you could just forget about the whole thing that would be real nice," I explained swiftly, my friendly expression replaced by my best cute, pretty please face.

His disappointment soon turned into a smirk, then an arrogant snort. Well, I'd tried to be pleasant, and he should know better. My eyes narrowed dangerously, ears flattening as I leaned in real close, my muzzle almost touching the side of his head.

"Take me up on the offer or I'll give you far more than the good time you're after," I hissed sharply.

Now it was my turn to grin as the stallion’s face fell flat and he gulped ever so subtly. I leaned back smiling with cringing pleasantness.

"Well, I'll be seeing you now," I declared happily, before swiftly trotting away.

A long moment of listening for hoof steps following after me later, and I let out a long breath of relief.

Well done Dragonfire, another sexual crisis averted. That was if that guard knew what was good for him anyway.

That settled, I now had about an hour before meeting Star, that was if he was marginally on time. I moved over to the rail and looked out over the Churn below. From over the cliff I could see the red rays of the desert sunset illuminating the cloud cover like a sheet of fire from below. Beneath me, the town basked in what little light the overcast sky and stone depression would allow to grace them. Only to be mocked by the vast amounts of sunlight received by the radio tower high above. The ponies went about their business and splashing sounded as the beasts in the water below sensed it was almost feeding time.

“Almost perfect,” I sighed, leaning on one of the rusted railings.

Well at least it wasn't raining, that was about the only thing we had to worry about down here, that and the damn fucking Radroaches, but they were a problem just about everywhere. Just as daylight's gradual deepening into the ever darkening twilight suggested the end of another day, the stores of Churn were closing and many ponies were retreating into the many tunnel entrances that dotted the sinkhole. I had to move to let several by me as I watched, a buck, accompanied by two mares, the last of which was with a young colt and filly.

I tried not to look at the latter pair too much. Foals and all the mushy side of sex were not for me.

Not that it could be...

Shut up brain! I warned dangerously.

This time my thoughts didn't continue to pester me with things I would rather not think about, and when the group of ponies was out of sight, I managed to loosen up a bit. Still, I needed a distraction. Shops? Most were closing and I already had about everything I needed, might as well use what we found during the last job to supply our next one. If this course of action was inadvisable, Star would get it sorted out. Should I check out the clinic or apothecary as Bone Marrow liked to call it? Nope, I had enough healing potions and chems from the last job too, and the only thing wrong with me besides being a pastel colored pony living in a post-apocalyptic shit hole was a lack of booze and sex, but both of those afflictions would be cured soon enough. Once again at Star Strike’s hooves. Then there was Willow’s, well…

My stomach gave a sudden grumble.

Yeah, Willow’s it was.

"Good evening everypony, this is your humble little station Rapid Radio R999, so close to perfect it hurts."

The crackling buzz of the speakers caught my ear as I sat at the bar, the wild mare’s voice a break in the low din. I really couldn't fault that filly upstairs on determination, knowing full well it wasn't the bar's speaker system that was making the reception a tad rusty.

"So how's everypony doing on this fine evening? Having a good ol' time in this dust bowl we call the Southwest? Well, let me tell you that if you're safe and cozy in your home or enjoying yourself in some bar..."

The moment she said that I felt my ears flatten and timidly diverted my attention from the long row of concrete barricades that was the counter before me.

"I have a little request of ya'. It seems an unfortunately high amount of raiders have been pouring across the desert and it would appear the vile creatures have some sort of deal with the slavers up north, not that any decent pony up in those parts will have any chance of changing how things are run up there."

As her broadcast continued, I found myself coming out of the mild cocoon of embarrassment that her witty comment had forced me to crawl into and once again my ears perked up. If there was something going on out there in the desert, I considered myself a pony who needed to know.

"Word is that Bucktown was hit last week by a small band of the scum and I have reports of even more incidents moving on up towards Crossroads. In other news, there's also reports of the Steel Rangers up in that region hindering travel and stopping caravans. We all know what those tin-can ponies can be like, and I know not one of you is thinking anything they're up to is any good, not even that little war they've still got going on with the rest of the scum coming out of Crimson Springs. Then there's the ghouls coming up out of the Sheen, now I know what I said about knowing how to distinguish a pony from your typical zombie and let me tell you that any pack of rotting flesh on hooves coming up out of that glowing pit would definitely take your leg off sooner than start a conversation."

As she continued on about a whole host of other deadly entities prowling the dessert, I leaned my side against the counter. Rapid had a habit of making things sound real bad out there, even if they were just as despicable as always. The rangers were as pleasantly murderous around here as just about anything else out there in the wasteland, and I didn't even need to think about the slavers and raiders. The only abnormal one was with regards to the ghouls. Yet the Sheen was home to a whole slew of radioactive beasts and something inevitably crawled out of it from time to time. All I could say was that anything from that glowing, glass crater was bad news.

"So what's the little favor I'm asking of you my little ponies?" Rapid’s voice went on from the crackling radio.

"Well if any of you have to go on traveling up that way then give all those abominations a good flank-kicking from little ol' me, and if you don’t have to travel up that way, then just think about how lucky you are. Now that I've got that out of the way I'll let you fine folks get back to your music, once again big thanks to the ponies downstairs who went out to get me some more variation when it comes to songs. So here's a new one for you all. This is Sweetie Belle with ‘The Dark Days are Over.’"

Her voice crackled out with a sharp pop, before being replaced a moment later by that of a gorgeously sweet mare. Well as magnificent as she could sound on a radio of such a shitty standard. By the goddesses, she was so close to perfect it hurt, and as for the big thanks? I snorted subtly.

Let me guess, Gold Sabre and Saw Blade? No, no, Tin Bits and Sepia?

As the many faces of my competition went through my mind I couldn't help but laugh slightly. They'd all missed out on a fifty thousand cap contract that had been sat under their noses for the past week. As a witty smile dawned upon my muzzle, I turned back to face the large concrete block that separated me from the orgy of booze displayed on the shelves just before me. My smile faded as I once again realized they were just out of hooves reach.

Beneath my rump was a metal plate, topped with a less than clean cushion and supported by a piece of rebar that protruded from the side of the concrete block. The same pattern of stools continued all the way along the blockade, ending at the far wall where the corrugated iron walls of the shack met the jagged stone of the cliff. Once again they merged less than seamlessly into the natural surface.

Pressed against the back wall was the stage, behind which, was a concrete bunker similar to Griddle’s demi-stable. This one however, wasn't a fucking fortress. Instead, it was covered by a pair of ratty green curtains, which were doused in water from the dripping cliff face. Behind it was the room labeled fun, just as the flickering neon sign displayed over the door to the left of the stage boldly suggested. Well, at least ponies round here used their bunkers productively, one was a vault full of useless shit, and the other a brothel. Oh and the one Bone Marrow had in the back of the clinic was full of refrigerated chems.

The right wall of the room was lined with makeshift seating booths, like those of the pre-war cafés we'd occasionally find out in the wasteland. Yet these were, like everything else around here, made from a combination of concrete blocks and rusted metal. The tables between the seats were painted sheet metal which sat atop a lonesome iron frame, and the seats were made more comfortable by dirty cushions. Spilled booze, Sparkle-cola, sweat, piss, and goddesses know what else had been so kind as to bless those cushions. That was why I made more of an effort to sit at the bar if I could. Not that the cushion under my haunches was any less dirty, there was just less material to be marred by such filth.

To my left, opposite of the stage, was the door, above which was a mangled bell that sounded more like a dying songbird whenever somepony entered. Sat on a shelf beside it was the radio filling the bitter, alcohol smelling air with the crackled voice of Sweetie Belle. Ironically, beneath it was a dusty old jukebox. Personally, I was slightly insulted by it. Rapid tried so hard to give us that radio, and a combination of admiration and the fact the cool blue coated mare was kinda cute, garnered her my respect. Still, there were songs on that old jukebox that she didn't have, the likes of which made even me feel a bit warm inside. One thing was for sure, none of it was as mind-numbingly boring as that orchestral shit the damn Spritebots blurted in their eternal crusade to cross the desert.

Looking to the flickering jukebox, my eyes surely came upon the opposite end of the concrete bar. There a hinged slab allowed entry, and a sign that had once said beware of dog had been changed to beware of Fog. A reference to Foggy, Willow’s private bartender, and muscle. Yet none of the crowded room really caught my attention, save for the stage that is. It was surrounded by lusty stallions and, to my admiration, a few mares. Their eyes were all wide and jaws dropped as a sunset orange mare with a yellow mane and blazing flower cutie mark danced about a pole in a tight fitting leather sex wear. I'll admit she'd drawn my curious eyes more than a few times already. I mean liking both fillies and colts ensured I'd never be without eye candy, besides they never showed stallions up there anyway.

Whoa, Dragonfire you can't go looking up everyponies rear. My mind scolded, recalling the situation outside the Spit, and preferring not have a repeat of it.

As much as I resisted that idea, I managed to reign in my thoughts. The fantasy of what I'd do to Star later was enough in the way of bait to get my mind back on track and with a shake of my head. Moments later I moved my eyes onto the bar where on either side of me, rows of ponies sat. Those that sat here were either much soberer, or out of it completely. It was lucky for one such mare and two bucks that Foggy didn't really take interest…

"Arr, good evening Miss Dragonfire!" I jumped slightly as the Mister Handy's tinny voice rang into my ears.

It was indescribably annoying, his artificial tone had been designed to mock that posh accent of a pre-war, upper-class, Canterlot pony. My fright nearly caused me to fall from my chair as I realized that in my scouring of the room, I'd failed to notice Foggy approach. Recovering, I leaned forward looking at the hovering thing distastefully, only to be met by a lone red eye atop a long stalk.

By the goddesses his accent even made a blind, unblinking eyeball seem annoyingly happy all the time!

"Err, Hi," I groaned wearily.

The robot’s irritatingly good mood didn't change, in fact, the positivity radiated from his metal case more so than the radioactive glow did from the Sheen.

"Hey, why the long face, that's if you don't mind me asking?" the robot questioned, flicking a metal arm as if to seem witty.

Ha, ha, funny joke, not heard that one a thousand times before you bucket of bolts. I snorted mentally.

All the while there was a long pause, my boredom and hunger battling against his overly charismatic charm. In what felt like an unwarranted surrender however, I finally opened my muzzle.

"I'm starving and I forgot Star still has all the caps, so I have to wait until he shows up," I said with a pout.

Wow, you're a real bitch when you're hungry. Was all I could imagine the robot’s irritating accent stating in response.

But he just continued to stare at me with that overly happy eyeball, then with a roar of his underslung thrusters, he moved back.

"Well, I'd be soiling Willow’s good name if I left an honest customer to sit around dissatisfied," he suddenly declared, reaching down into a chipped old fridge below the alcohol laden shelves.

Wait, he was going to give me something? That abrupt thought changed my mood slightly.

A moment later he returned with a raw Radigator kebab in his pincer.

"I trust your companion will be arriving shortly?" he asked cheerfully.

I sat up looking into his gleaming eye.

"What, Star? Yeah, he'd never miss a drinking opportunity for all the wasteland," I told him eagerly, my focus now completely on the prospect of food.

"Well, then I'll take payment when he arrives, in the meantime please do enjoy yourself!" he offered, holding up the speared meat. "Right, Urm, this is uncooked so—Urm…" he mumbled, looking more uncertain than any robot should as he gazed blankly at the raw meat in his claspers.

Never get a stupid tin can to do a ponies job. I mentally moaned, rolling my eyes at the machine's confusion.

I had spells that could cook it in an instant, he had a smaller blowtorch attachment on him.

In here? Yeah, the blowtorch sounds good.

"Give it here," I told the puzzled contraption levitating the kebab from his grip. "Right, now you cook it," I added, hovering the spit in the air above his small flamethrower attachment.

He turned to me with yet more nagging positivity.

"Arr yes, a brilliant idea if I do say so myself," he declared before torching the meat.

Luckily the thing had the common sense to do it down towards the floor and not at the alcohol, not that anything around her could burn for long, well besides Griddle’s wooden desk and the population. That is apart from my food, but that was not an image I wanted to hold onto. Fortunately, or more accurately, unfortunately, reality urgently called my focus elsewhere.

"Foggy, stop that's enough!" I called out as the meat began to singe.

He stopped and looked over his overly done work with the same irritating positivity.

"Oh my, I am terribly sorry," he stated bluntly.

I slouched back down.

"It's fine," I groaned sourly, pulling what was left of the black charcoal to my muzzle and chewing what felt like rock.

The robot’s gleeful eyes spun to me.

"Well, I am glad you are satisfied. Like I said, I would not want to tarnish Willow’s good name," he repeated proudly.

With that, I looked up at him chewing heavily.

"Speaking of Willow, where is she?" I asked around the tough mouth full.

"Arr yes, she is currently a little under the weather, as they say. But don't worry, she'll be back for good food, good booze, and good fun faster than a sonic rainboom!" he explained, waving a pair of his metal limbs as if to cheer.

If he'd intend that to be a joke, it fell flat, not that he could sense the awkwardness that followed. As for Willow, I'd believe that story when I saw it. She was never here, in fact, I'd only ever seen her a few times. Last I remembered was about a year ago. I'd hardly recognized the lime green mare with a long, straight, dark green mane that covered her face like that of the makeshift willow tree outside. Her cutie mark was apparently an emerald formed into the shape of the same tree, as her first and seldom heard name was; in fact, Emerald. But I'd never even seen her cutie mark in the first place, which was a shame because even in her work apron, the mare had a nice flank.

That lustful thought was swiftly silenced by a warning growl emanating from some sensible part of me that had torn my mind away from the show mare's butt just a moment ago. What survived was swiftly sucked out of my thoughts by the sight of the happy robotic sphere staring me down from across the bar.

"Thanks, I guess," I muttered, holding up the half-eaten Radigator kebab in my magic.

There was a long pause before finally, he responded.

"I'm glad to be of service, please do inform me if you require anything else." With that, and a whir of thrusters, the robot steadily moved on down the bar.

My eyes followed him as he sped down to the next group of ponies needing to be waited on.

Wow, eyes, that was a boring scene. Why go there? I mentally groaned, before shifting my newly board gaze a little to the right.

That's better. My mind sighed happily as I got another eye full of the dancing mare's flank. Well, Star isn't here and no other stallions are showing such fine tail so I supposed it's mares for me tonight. I told myself with dismissive content.

"What you eyeing there?" a recognizably grim voice questioned as if on cue.

I turned sharply to see a familiar buck standing beside me, a sly smirk on his muzzle. That sensible part of my mind laughed at the revelation. Then shook its head at me like I was some kind of filly that had disobeyed instruction after a multitude of warnings. Then it went wild for a moment so to avoid forging an answer to his question.

"Um, I... I wasn't looking at anything," I replied innocently, turning back to the bar nonchalantly.

"Right... So that fine flank over there is not appealing to you?" he questioned tauntingly.

I had to fight my lusty urge to glance back at the stage.

"Nope!" I choked, shaking my head.

Star’s smirk widened as he latched onto the crack in my voice like a hungry predator.

"So you won't mind if I go have myself some fun?" he asked tauntingly.

My eyes narrowed and I spun to him sharply.

"No, the only flank worthy of you is mine! So sit down and shut up you big oaf!" I demanded with a forcefully playful anger.

He continued to tease, with his confident, knowing, and smug smirk.

Wow, I'd let him take the candy from a foal, and I was that foal! Oh goddesses, why couldn't I had just seen him come in? There was a fucking bell over the door!

I gave up, my expression falling flat as did my ears,

"Yeah, her flank is pretty fine too," I admitted reluctantly as the dancing mare continued on oblivious to our conversation.

He gave a nicker before finally sitting beside me.

"Well in your defense, you ain't wrong," he chuckled while glancing past me.

My right eye turned upward to face his gawking expression.

"Well don't get any ideas while I'm here. Plus, when am I ever wrong?" I growled for the show mare’s sake.

Star laughed some more before turning forwards to the bar.

"Hey, you know you're the best fit for me," he added with a nudge.

I couldn't help but mimic him a little as I grinned. Sure we weren't loyal, we took all we could get. But he was the best I had, I was glad he felt the same way.

"Fine, for that you still get paid," I sniggered playfully, and waved a hoof dismissively.

"I trust you brought some caps," I added eagerly.

For a moment he raised an eyebrow.

Wait? Oh, shit. He'd forgotten them! Foggy is not gonna be happ…

With a metallic thud, the stallion dropped the bag of caps Griddle had given him on the concrete counter.

Or he could have just brought them all. I corrected swiftly.

"Ahh, nice to see you, Sir Star Strike," Fogy's mechanic voice interrupted suddenly.

He was like a fly to dead meat, the sound of currency drawing him in instantly, his happy eyes gleaming at the sight.

"Likewise, you fancy-flank bucket," my gray companion retorted, pushing the caps forward.

"We'll take what we can stomach!" he added winking at me.

Oh, Star was that a challenge? Well, it was time to get wasted.

Footnote: Level Up.

New Perk Added: Stallion's Kind of Mare - You're an expert in the art of seduction, and aren't afraid to show it. You gain +5 critical hit chance when targeting ponies of the opposite sex and gain unique dialog options with certain ponies.

Massive thanks to Kkat for creating the fantastic universe of Fallout: Equestria. Also, massive thanks to all of the editors, pre-readers, and artists who have made this story possible and worth reading. Finally, massive thanks to the readers. Updates on this story should be fairly regular depending on how occupied I and the editors are. Furthermore, any feedback would be very much appreciated.

Updated artwork kindly provided by: PonyEcho and Scarletsfeed respectively.

Once again; thanks, everyone and I hope you enjoyed reading!