"You did what?" My mother's shocked voice demanded loudly.

I fidgeted beneath the covers that I'd fashioned into a makeshift shelter, hiding my growing embarrassment from her critical gaze. Deep down I felt a cold dread, the likes of which was slowly spinning into something greater the longer I withheld the truth. It had spawned the moment she'd realized what it was that I had done. After that, I'd just tried to hide from her, despite the fact I knew she was standing right over me.

"Astral Fire!" My mother demanded impatiently, her hoof tapping upon the hard metal floor of the train car we called home.

My eyes open, only to find the warm darkness of the covers pressed against my muzzle. Strangely, as bad as I felt, and as much as I knew I was gonna get into a lot of trouble for being so reckless, I was smiling. Rebelliously? Perhaps, I certainly felt slightly rebellious. Yet it was more of a satisfied feeling than anything else, as for what I'd done, well…

"But mom me and Dodge love each other and him and his brothers are teaching me some really neat stuff," I whined, lifting my head from the covers.

My mother’s name was Dragonfly. She was a dark blue unicorn mare with a light cyan mane and a yellow cutie mark shaped like the insect with which she shared her name. She was wearing an old Pipbuck on her left foreleg and it looked as if she'd been slapped across the face by my response. A part of me just wanted to laugh, I couldn't tell whether her lost expression was because of my confession or my smile. Either way, I knew I was in for it the moment her eyes narrowed.

"So... You? Astral, You're twelve!" she stuttered, her shock hindering her ability to shout. "You don't even have your cutie mark yet!" she added, her anger besting her surprise as she glanced to where my blank flank lay beneath the tattered covers.

I wondered how angry she'd be if I'd gotten my cutie mark for what I'd done? I even asked myself what a cutie mark in such a field would even look like? The more I thought about it, the more I was confused as to whether it would be a good thing to have on my rump for the rest of my life or not.

"I told you that I don't want you hanging around with those pyromaniacs anymore and now you've gone and... Astral Fire! Are you even listening to me, missy? You'd better be!" my mother hissed, snatching back my attention with a sharp glare.

"Urm... yeah, Mom, I'm lusting... I–I–I mean listening, I'm listening." I stammered clumsily, then blushed nervously.

As expected, her frown deepened, and her sharp eyes seemed to blaze with anger.

Nevertheless, my mother tried to keep the wasteland out of my foalhood, and by extension anypony who lived in it, best she could. In that moment my mother's mouth opened, and my ears and eyes fell as I realized just how much trouble I could be in.

Damn you, brain, and your sudden obsession with the local colts! Screw you for even getting me into this mess in the first place! It's not me that likes Dodge’s rear end it's you, buck you. brain! I mentally cursed.

Yet as the long moments of my internal conflict passed, no words came from either of us. I cautiously raised one eye to see my mother shaking her head disapprovingly. Confused as to why I was spared her anger, I looked about for anything that may have changed her opinion. Nothing but the bed, old dresser, and door surrounded us in the rusty, old train car. The thing was our home, for now. We didn't exactly hang about in one place for too long, though. My mom's job required us to be flexible with where we lived.

"Hey, Mom, you can't say anything, you're with bucks all the time. In fact, I've even seen you with some mares!" I stated bluntly.

The blue unicorn's expression turned from anger to confusion, not to mention a hint of embarrassment and untimely shame as she stammered.

"No, no! Astral that's different! That's—" She stopped, taking a breath. "I have to do that or we won't have any place to live. We’d find ourselves with no food and no water!" she explained, waving a hoof and gesturing toward the train car's interior.

My eyes followed her hoof like it was some irresistible lure and when she finally returned it firmly to the floor, I found my gaze locked upon her.

"That's no reason for you to go about doing the same thing though! I try my best to give you a life that you can live with pride, honor, and dignity. Not for you to go around well… Doing it," she stated firmly.

I winced, leaning back.

"Well, when you say did it? We didn't actually do anything so… " I explained, hoping the fact would dismiss her anger and we could be friends again.

Instead, she just scowled.

"Astral, you know I've not been feeling well lately, and yet you still put me through this? I'm doing what I do, I sully my body, soul, and self-esteem because I'm trying to give you a better life, and this is how you thank me?"

She stated, looking back at me over her shoulder as she turned towards the door. Okay, this was new, she wasn't shouting. So why did her words make me feel so—horrible? Yeah, she was ill, she'd been throwing up a lot for weeks now, not to mention she was more angry than usual. Maybe this sudden lack of anger was another mood swing? If so, I just hoped it kept back her wrath long enough for her to forget the whole thing. As my thoughts went on, my mother sighed wearily.

"I have to go to the clinic. You can stay here and think about what you did or you can come with me." She told me, trotting to the door.

I swallowed, wrapping the sheets about my legs and sitting up as if they would somehow anchor me to the mattress. The thing threatening to take me away eluded me, however. A deep, sickly feeling in my chest that told me what I'd done was wrong.

"I'm feeling okay, I don't need to go to the clinic," I muttered, my rebellious tone ebbing away.

My mother raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Astral, that's not what I meant, I just… "

I felt myself slowly slip down onto the bed resting my head against the pillows, turning away from my mother. Why did it make me feel so empty? I hadn't done anything other than sleep under the same sheet as him. No, it wasn't that fact that was making me feel this way, it was my mother's words and her tone. The elusive implication I failed to understand. But for whatever reason, I was almost crying. All of a sudden the room filled with a dull blue glow and the covers swiftly slid over me.

"Hey, you're a big grown-up filly now, and I know stuff like this happens, but no matter what I still love you." I heard the soothing tone of my mother wrap over me like a second blanket, one of an unfathomably greater warmth and protection.

It felt as if I could ride out a mega spell within its loving cocoon. It was the height of hubris to think like that, I knew. But I didn't feel like I needed a bunker or a stable to keep the wasteland away. I just needed the sound of her kind voice. I shuffled about in the blankets as I heard the door to the train car open, and felt the dull light slip in.

"I love you too, Mom," I mumbled from under the blankets as she left.

The warm blackness divided into a horizontal horizon, revealing a slightly less dark—well, blackness. Then my eyes closed again, returning to the previously darker gloom.

Wow, was that a strange foalhood dream? I’ve not had one of those in a while.

I may have thought upon that nostalgic idea more clearly had I been in an at least half-decent state. But as evident by my returning senses, I was far from presentable. My head throbbed, my ears rang with even the slightest hum of the water pipes and my muscles were no less stiff than the rusted metal about me. But I was so warm, so comfy, and content. My body was alive with a pleasurable buzz and I was still exceedingly satisfied. I may have been hungover as fuck, but last night was one to remember.

I could remember it, right? I thought, urgently searching through the blurred memories. Yeah, there it was.

I sighed in relief as I recalled the jackhammer, I mean Star Strike. I had no idea whether it was the prospect of fifty thousand caps or just the fact I was an extremely attractive sex machine that could never be tamed, but Star had broken me good. With that, I curled my hooves up to my chest pulling the cover over myself tightly.

Perfect, not close to perfect, this is perfection. I mentally stated.

A moment later, I turned to where the gray stallion had finally given up on his late-night siege. I didn't open my eyes, all I wanted was my buck. I gave a satisfied whinny, reaching out a hoof over the cold empty bed sheets.

Wait? Empty? My eyes reluctantly pried apart.

Okay, ambient red glow? Too bright! Despite that, my mind raced with thoughts. Where is he?

That wasn't a question I asked often, on account of how frequently I would pick up cute mares and one-night stands.

"Urg, just shut up brain!" I groaned, giving a dissatisfied grunt, the persistent nagging of my mind shattering my horny buzz.

Using the same hoof that had been dispatched to the far side of the bed, I dragged myself over the edge. The spot that I had scooted off was still slightly warm, I noted as I settled.

Where the fuck is he? My mind cried again like I was some lost puppy abandoned in the middle of nowhere.

As I stared at the bedside desk, the question of where he was repeated more times than Rapid's limited assortment of records. With another lazy groan, I sprawled out my hooves and stretched my aching muscles.

Well, at least that felt good! I thought, finally sitting up.

Moments later I realized just how much of a bad idea that was. Immediately my head began to pulse and throb like a Zebrican war beat thanks to my hangover. A moment later, I pressed my hooves to my ringing ears in a futile attempt to make the world stop spinning. I sat there for a long moment trying to squint past the dull red glow of the industrial lighting.

"Where's my buck?" I moaned, beating my forehooves against the mattress like some spoiled foal.

After another long moment of nursing my frustration of waking up to an empty bed, I finally stood up on my own four hooves. Another bad idea, I realized as I crumpled to the floor and the world spun like crazy. As I waited for reality to stop spinning, I looked to my right. Down on the small metal cabinet at Star's bedside was a note.

"A note? That's all that he can give me?" I grumbled to myself, pouting.

With a sigh, I picked up the tattered paper. It was faded and worn, just like any form of parchment in the wasteland, the writing wasn't much to smile about either, it was badly scrawled and the moisture in the air hadn't done it any favors.

Written by an earth pony? I mused. Bet I know which one.

'Hi, Dragon, gone to get barding clean and supplies. Would have woken you but you looked too adorable. XXX'

I felt my playful frustration simmer to boiling point at the word adorable, not to mention the school filly kisses. The irritatingly affectionate words were followed closely by…

‘Get your guns and get your hangover taken care of. See you later today for the payload.’

So it must have been the fifty thousand last night, not me. I assumed glumly.

I groaned at the fact that it wasn't my irresistible beauty that motivated him to fuck me that good last night. Then glimpsed something besides where the note had been left. Radigator meat and his portable stove. I sighed wearily. Okay, so maybe my buck wasn't that bad after all.

A few hours later, I found myself looking down at my workbench, focusing my slowly detoxifying brain into action. Broken gun parts and spark ammunition looked back, each one seemingly eager to be put to use. I'd found my Pipbuck sitting toward the back, beneath the shelf upon which I kept everything I needed in order to maintain it, even if it was almost beyond repair even for me. Mostly tools and books I'd salvaged from an abandoned Stable a few years back, those that had been handed down to me, or the occasional useful item looted from corpses. Notably, it had not been where I always left it, yet I suppose I could attribute that to the state in which I'd arrived after yesterday, as there seemed to be nothing wrong with it, nothing apparent anyway.

Beside it were a few gems as well as an equally rough copy of Applied Gemstones and various used and worn old rifle parts, all of which were dusted with a fine coat of pink ash. I'd just finished putting one gun back together after giving it a well-deserved cleaning. It was by far my favorite, the closest thing to a foal I could have. A magical energy rifle, or was it a magical energy shotgun? Not to say it was a normal variant of either. I'd tinkered with it, a lot. I mean a lot. It had been taken apart and put back together over a hundred times. I'd thrown in some more spark batteries, modified the gem matrix, and fitted the beam with splitting lenses so that it fired into extra prisms. Assembling it all together got me a pretty deadly light show.

Now that I think about it, the thing is a magical energy shotgun, only with little scatter and the effective range of a rifle. I liked to call it the Saddle Blaster, despite the fact it had nothing to do with saddles, battle saddles, or a similar entity of any kind aside from its holster.

But what else was I gonna call it, Beamy? Metal Blaster? Super Mega Ultra Blaster of Lasered Immolation? No, I had an imagination that's why I used energy weapons over anything that used bullets. All those boring ponies with their shotguns, carbines, and brush guns, they had nothing on my magic. The way I saw it, a magical unicorn used magical guns, I'd certainly like to see a bullet turn a Raider into pink dust, or a standard rifle liquefy a Bloatsprite.

Speaking of liquefaction, I had my twins. A pair of slightly less modified magical plasma rifles. All I'd managed to do with them as of late was up the rate of fire, and I still had to increase the clip size to compensate. Last was the oldest of my projects, a modified magical energy pistol. I'd had the thing for even longer than my Pipbuck, ever since I was a little filly. Back then I'd liked to call the thing Zap-Zap due to the amusing sound it made before turning somepony to dust, and trust me they were always turned to dust with this baby. Even so, my mind snickered at the idea.

Okay, so what if I modified the fuck out of my guns and they were less popular?

I hissed at my condescending brain as it challenged my idea with images of the many times I'd seen bullets kill a pony. Besides, if fewer ponies used those weapons, then ammo was way more available... Sort of.

There! How do you like that you psychopathic jerk? I mentally snapped.

Besides, I sometimes found spark batteries on my bounty hunter jobs, raiders always had random hoof fulls of scrap and slavers had slightly more organized loads of scrap. Then there was the Enclave, yet I had to admit the pegasi were far more worthy opponents, their shit was hard won. On top of the magical laser show I was packing, I also had several grenades. I carried two of my magical energy grenades and one matrix disruption device I kept handy for all those fucking robots we'd inevitably run into. Add to that my magic, which was far more than simple levitation. I mean, c'mon I'm not a filly. High-quality barding laced with dragon scales and you had yourself a battle-ready mercenary, purely my own style.

Every one of us had one, it's what separated the rookies from the battle-hardened merc. At the thought of the others, I was reminded that I still hadn't seen Star since last night. Even so, that train of thought had mostly been stolen when I'd first smelt my room. It was then I'd seen my dirty bed, slipcover, and blankets.

"Really! Was it too hard for my stallion to clean my bed when he came down here to get my barding?" I asked myself quietly.

Regardless, I couldn't be angry with him. Instead, my mind formulated a swift idea. With a spark of my horn, the sheets were enveloped in a magical glow and quickly lifted from the bed. Steadily I trotted over to the shower throwing the sheets inside. We'd be gone for a few days, maybe a week. So it would be dry by the time we got back. That was all that went through my head as I turned the warm water on and dowsed the filthy sheets in the steaming torrent. The foul brown mix of blood, dirt, and vomit wept from the dull white fabric and slowly fell away down the drain. I smiled happily before trotting back to my workbench, leaving the water running. My weapons deserved no less love and affection, and soon they were all as spotless as I could manage.

"Well, little guy I'll be sure to see you get used this time," I told my pistol Zap-Zap as if it were my own foal, turning the thing in my magic.

"Right, now I just have to find some way to carry you all to the yard," I stated, turning to look about my room as I slipped my Pip-Buck around my foreleg and clipped it closed with the improvised pins I'd installed, I'd have to hook it up to my armor later.

Star had my barding, which meant he still had all the salvaged miscellanea I'd left in my saddle bags, lucky for him those scavenged bullet guzzlers were not anything special.

Wait, no, he wouldn't sell them, what was I worried about? I mean if he did then I'd be upset, then angry, then there'd be no fun, and I like fun. I sighed lowering my head and ears a little, then the cloud of steam kissed my muzzle and I realized the cloud was leaking from the shower.

A moment later I found myself by the gushing hot, torrent, the soaked bedding warped into some sort of strange blob on the tiles.

Well, Star didn't exactly give me a time. Hell, I'll bet he thinks I'm still in his bed. I thought, raising a hoof to my muzzle

I smiled a little at that thought while retrieving the soggy mess from the water. The pile looked no better than a raider's display piece slapped down on the metal grill of the floor and I stepped into the warm water's embrace.

Oh, yeah! This was the life a hard-working pony deserved, not perfect, but so damn close!

Once again the warm deluge seeped through my mane soothingly, smothering my coat in a steaming pleasure. I bowed my head, letting the smooth torrent embrace my face and horn.

I was gonna have fifty thousand caps when I was next in here, or else I'd be dead, but that was a boring way of thinking. Death was nothing in the wasteland, the sooner a pony accepted that the sooner they'd be wasteland-proof, as I like to call it. It was never a good idea to let the horror seep into your head because basically, everything has gone to shit, don't do the same to anypony else, and most importantly don't be a hero. By Celestia, I heard enough about those on the radio, the only good part is when they've finally learned to stop fighting so I don't have to keep hearing their sob stories.

Nevertheless, I wasn't completely against trying to make the world a better place. I may be a mercenary, but I was all for protecting those who needed it. I'd save ponies from slavers, raiders, and monsters without needing a paycheck before. I wasn't some pony who could just sit by and watch things like that happen if they were right in front of me. There was only one rule. It was the rule that ultimately defined me, only kill monsters. It's okay to kill monsters.

I'd had many a discussion with myself regarding the definition of the word monster, too many times at gunpoint. A monster was something or even somepony who was doing what was wrong. There was no shortage of them out there, somepony just had to look at Fillydelphia. But it was me who ultimately had to make that decision, if somepony were a monster they were dead, no sweat off of my mane. But if they weren't, then they had nothing to hide from me. Then there were the blurs between the lines, those made my definition of monster waver.

My eyes were sealed for a moment, and my ears went numb to all but the water cascading smoothly over my face. I knew I only killed monsters, and it was okay to kill monsters.

My horn flared brightly as the saddlebags levitated beside me. This wasn't my barding. In fact, I'd borrowed it from Lynx, a stallion who lived a ways up from me in the industrial hall. At least every buck I knew seemed to owe me favors, and so did most mares. Nevertheless, I sat the saddlebags over my back and began putting my guns into each with my magic.

"Well room," I called back to the shower, naked bed and soaked sheets laying spread out on the floor. "When I see you again I'll be fifty thousand caps richer."

Twenty-five thousand actually. My mind reminded me. No, I bet I could get it to twenty-six, depending on how I played my cards.

One thing was for sure, this place was getting a renovation, well that was if I didn't blow it all on booze and good company. Regardless, I quickly swung the large metal door open with my magic and lept out into the corridor.

"Fifty thousand caps, fifty thousand caps. Fifty Thousand Caps!" I hummed to myself.

The words played out rhythmically in my head as I trotted eagerly among the pipelined steam tunnel, my hooves clopping against the metal to the beat of my mental song.

A few moments later, I found myself beyond the steam tunnels and out in the reasonably fresh air of Churn. Water flowed freely from the broken pipes and dam, ponies of all variants went about their business. The shops were open, Radigators snapping below and Griddle was locked up in the Spit. The morning practically shimmered as I descended the metal stairs to the waterfront. There my hooves met the concrete canyon floor, and I trotted merrily to the crossing.

Across the bridge, I could see several industrial sacks of supplies lingering just in the shadow of the surface elevator. The traders up top certainly had a good haul for the town this week, I noted as I glanced over the varied assortment of bags, crates, and metal barrels. All the day needed was some sunshine and it would be perfect, shame that was impossible in the wasteland. But I'd settle for what lay ahead under the cloudy sky instead.

Star Strike was waiting by the elevator, speaking to the shaft’s operator. The shorter earth pony was a dusty yellow color with a dark brown mane, his cutie mark was a cog and lever. My buck towered over him like the ruins of a Manehattan skyscraper. After last night, the sight made me both a happy pony and a slightly horney mare. Upon hearing what must have been my hooves upon the metal frame of the waterway crossing, the pair turned. The sharp armored hide that was Star's barding rattled like a wall of animated steel as he did so. Atop his head, a horned helmet dwarfed the tiny thing I called my own. His huge battle saddle was what set us apart the most, however.

On his left flank was a hulking minigun, its ammo chamber mounted on the left side of his back. On his right was a flame thrower, its fuel tank supported beside the minigun's ammo chamber in a similar manner. His saddlebags lay farther back than mine, covering his haunches. He said it was the only place they could go, but I was convinced it was because he didn't want me getting any free samples. Either way, his armor design was crude and barbaric. I mean with horns like that on his head I was surprised ponies didn't mistake him for a dragon or something. Then there was the fact he used it as a battering ram! I still didn't get that.

No, when I was in battle I conducted myself with swiftness and grace. It was only during a fight that I could use the latter of those two words while referring to myself. My energy weapons were far more elegant than his bullet-spitting rattler or flamer. Why, if he took just one round to that tank he'd be a bonfire. Fortunately, said round would have to penetrate an extension of his armor to even scratch the fuel. If that weren't so then I may have tried it once myself, it would be a great way to prove my way was better.

I both scowled and smirked at that. No, I wouldn't hurt him. Not again anyway. We were a team. A tank and a magical energy-wielding pyromaniac, and we were a damn good pair, so I suppose I couldn't complain. I approached him while looking up at his armored face.

"Seems I didn't leave you unable to walk," he snickered with a wry smile. I cocked an eyebrow, before giving him a smug grin.

"Yeah, you wish! You got my stuff?" I countered swiftly.

He gave an amused grunt before gesturing back to his saddlebags.

"Yep, gear‘s all cleaned up, it's back there," he told me motioning to the bags with a nod.

I continued to stare at him as I walked around.

Wow, taunting me when I’m so close to your rear, it's almost like you… My expression fell as did my ears, then I saw him smiling. Fucking bucks!

I swiftly pulled my barding from the sack with my magic. Sure enough, the smart, light blue scale-coated barding greeted me. It took me only a moment to remove Lynx's saddle bags and replace them with my own barding. Custom-made dragon claw knife, check. Full canteen, check. Pip-buck hooked up with short-range communications broadcaster, check. Twins on the left holster, Saddle Blaster on the right, Zap-Zap in back? Check, check, check. I stationed my weapons before head counting them. Twice. Then I slipped the spare saddle bags into Star's. Who knows, it may be useful, and besides Lynx wasn't brave enough to ask for it back anytime soon. That done I slipped on my helmet, sliding the custom glass of my visor up into a space above my brow, temporarily deactivating the display. I then looked to my companion, the virtual wall of flesh, steel, and guns he was, compared to the swift-scaled serpent with the nasty magical sting.

"You ready to get rich?" Star asked.

Really? Who did he think I was? Of course, my only answer was…

"Fuck yeah! I'm ready."

As usual, the elevator ride was painfully slow. The sounds of the corroding metal quite literally making it painful to endure. Yet, sure enough, we found ourselves back at the cliff top about a few weeks later, give or take. Regardless, here I was again, the Marejarvie wasteland. After only a day of such close perfection, I had to admit it was a depressing sight. Still, I wasn't frustrated, just sick of the endless expanse of scorched desert leading off over the bare hills in every direction. One of the few breaks in the heat haze rising from the sands was the distinct green glow of the Sheen to the northeast. The rest of the blasted view was broken only by smooth, red rocks and mangled cacti.

With a firm jolt, the elevator ground to a slow halt signaling the end of our escalatory journey, silencing the horrible symphony of worn metal and grinding gears.

"There you are," the elevator buck told us, yanking the lever that held the platform aloft.

I was first to get off the metal platform, happily avoiding the rocking as Star shifted his great weight from the rusty, old metal. From up here the town itself was almost invisible. The only indicators that civilization even existed out here in the vast stretches of nothingness were the crane and the tip of the spire's broadcast tower. The only other things to stand out from the dusty backdrop were the windblown tents of the trade caravans and the generators, all of which were rusted and half-buried under the sand. Above, the tattered remains of pylons hauled many thick wires up from the mass of weathered metal, carrying them far across the desert to the north. To my left, the shattered railings of the dam were only just visible as its curved peak formed a bridge over the gorge, allowing the scorched remnants of a road across the breach.

On the opposite side of the crossing, the lake stretched out towards the hazy horizon. A body of deep gloom that rippled and shivered in the dry wind as it crawled its way west toward the coast. Upon its far bank, beyond the distant side of the dam, the lakeshore rose into a set of weathered cliffs. The huge walls of rock and sand sagged wearily in the desert heat. Atop them were the crooked bones of an old, pre-war town. Most notable to me, however, was the mangled iron frame of what had once been a water tower, the likes of which had been plunged into the deep murky depths of the lake. I'll admit, I had a lot to do with that.

Opposite the cliffs, the lakeside was a smooth dusty beach littered with trash, bones, and the occasional small boat, all of which were as bone dry as the desert, slowly disintegrating into the harsh sand. Sure enough, when my eyes came back around, they fell upon Star. My ears perked as the hissing of worn machinery sounded and once again the platform behind us disappeared over the cliff edge.

"Guess you shook that thing good," I wittily commented.

To my amusement, he just shrugged.

Yeah, you just leave the talking to the pretty one. I mentally noted, turning to the scorched asphalt leading away along the smooth shoreline.

"So where we heading'?" I asked, keeping a steady pace at Star's side.

The stallion's eyes tore from the heat-scorched horizon to look down at me.

"Client's description puts this place a good few miles south of New Pegasus, about three days across the desert on hoof," He answered, eyes moving back up to the horizon.

For seasoned bounty hunters like us, New Pegasus was practically a stroll, and though I hated going close to NCR territory, it didn't seem that proximity to their turf was the reason for the number of caps being offered for the completion of the job.

Speaking of which…

"What does it say about the place?" I asked, fishing for any preliminary information I could get before arriving at the location.

Secretly, I really wanted it to be a fluffy bunny factory or something ridiculous, like a house full of toothless Radigators. Just something that was easier to shoot up. But in the wasteland, such harmless things had probably become ravenous monsters.

"I don't know much, looks to me like some sort of pre-war research lab or something," Star replied, sounding concerned.

Great! These types of jobs were always fun, I got to see all the fucked up experiments of a generation of ponies who just loved crazy in all its forms. Then there'd probably be some sort of damn security system and if we were really lucky, some kind of eldritch abomination.

I sighed, this time with a groan. My energetic buzz had all but evaporated into the scorched air, and there was no chem in the wasteland that could make me feel that way again unless sex was a chem, and if that were the case then I'd be all over it. Nevertheless, I'd done more than enough of these jobs to know what I was getting into, and trust me I knew what I was doing when it came to a cave full of muties or some haywire Robronco factory. I used an energy gun and shot whatever the fuck was trying to kill me.

Even so, I turned my attention to the passing wasteland. Who knew, maybe I'd see something to shoot, or some rare treat would just fall out of the sky. But alas, there was nothing but the bones and trash upon the sickened lakeshore. Broken shards of concrete and steel sat among the petrified remnants of ponies and all kinds of other fucked up wasteland creatures. I'll admit at least a dozen of them were probably my hoof work. Raiders, slavers, monsters, and feral ghouls mostly.

One, however, caught my eye. A horned skull, far larger than all of the others, and still clinging to the last shred of its sand-bitten flesh. A long neck snaked down into the grim water, and its back rose from the stagnant filth just a few meters from shore. Around its bony neck was a chain, the likes of which was now slack and rusted as it curled across the dust before me. I didn't know whether looking at it made me feel proud, happy, or just 'meh'. I'd only been doing my job.

Okay, so that particular job was what gained me most of my respect.

"Wow, Vanator you're looking worse for the wear," I sniggered, passing the adolescent draconic skeleton casually.

I heard Star's tired whiny a moment later and I could almost sense the grinding of his eyes as they rolled. This was Vanator, what was left of him after I kicked his scaly tail. Doing anything out here wasn't easy, but I think I'd put myself on top the day I put these bones here. It was kinda funny, all I was doing was protecting Churn from an angry dragon that had dragged its sorry tail up from somewhere in the mountains south of what was once the Equestrian border. I certainly wasn't the one who magically tied that chain around his neck when the security finally managed to shoot his left wing. Nor was I the pony who'd tied said chain to the water tower. Nor... Okay, I bet you can see where this is going. I sent that water tower over the cliff into the deep end of the lake and he fell down with it. The rest was history.

About a week later the locals disassembled the crane and reworking it, were able to drag what was left out of him out the lake. They wanted the scales, claws, and anything they could sell. The scales were a light blue I might add, the claws sharper than any traditional knife.

"Lost in Dragonfire again?" Star’s smug vocal tone shattered my triumphant daydream.

I shook my head, my brow furrowed and my ears fell flat.

"Oh, I'm sorry! How did you get into town?" I barked.

He gave a proud smile, "Oh you know, saving fifteen foals will earn a lot of folks’ respect."

I sighed. Okay, so he'd saved some fillies and colts, but so had I! I mentally tried to count how many foals I had saved as I searched through my memory.

One, two... Damn, there had only been fourteen foals in the Churn the day I slew the dragon.

I swiftly kicked the thoughts from my mind so as not to continue the topic. Otherwise, Star may begin going on about how I didn't strictly kill the dragon alone. As my mind moved away so too did the dried dragon bones. Soon the south cliffs disappeared into the hazy horizon too. Having nothing to focus on but the endless expanse of either gray water, dark overcast sky, parched sand, or the almost unbearable heat of my barding roasting me, I swiftly remembered Rapid's radio broadcast. While we were far away from the heart of the trouble she'd mentioned in the east, she had said something about Bucktown.

Taking another well-needed sip of water from my canteen, I remembered the small settlement. I knew it quite well and I also knew it was not far from here. I really didn't want to think what might have transpired there, part of me even contemplated taking a route that wouldn't take us through that area. Yet I knew that wasn't a good idea for various reasons. Instead, I just set my watchful gaze on the sandy horizon as if patiently fishing for trouble. A few miles of trotting later, and that featureless horizon was no more.

"Hey, keep your eyes open in there," I told Star warningly, as we found ourselves staring at surroundings that were more than just simmering sand.

Besides the threat of attack by goddesses know what may be lurking ahead, I was almost glad. Looking out over the endless expanse of desert for so long had made me mind-numbingly bored. Besides, the windblown sand was not the best travel companion, it was irritating when it got under my already uncomfortably hot barding. Not that the environment before us was any better.

The edge of the once buzzing community grew like withered branches from what was left of the desert road. The outermost buildings were scorched husks, almost completely consumed by banks of sand. Yet, the inner skeleton of the crumbling town presented a very drastic change of scenery. Star stopped as the asphalt under-hoof disappeared beneath cracked dirt and eventually thick, muddy sludge.

"What now?" I asked stopping beside him and looking over the vaguely visible road between the ruins ahead.

As far as I could see there was nopony around. These ruins had long since been picked dry by carrion scavengers looking for some quick caps, then there was the actual carrion who picked on the bones of those that didn't make any caps on a count of being killed by said dangerous endeavors. In there, the desert sands became a waterlogged, mildly irradiated mess. The deeper I peered the more it looked warped, becoming naught but viscous wet sludge lingering amidst the buildings. Right at my hooves, the parched desert dipped slightly, deep into the foamy brown soup.

Great, from one extreme to the other, fuck you wasteland! I hissed mentally, strangely imagining the entity that was the fucked up apocalypse answering back, in the same overly joyful voice of Foggy no less.

Goddesses, I really hated that robot. I added begrudgingly while trying not to think about how refreshing potentially cool water could be after so long in the sweltering heat, no matter how disgusting a state it was in.

Above the shattered buildings to the far right of us, another sagging mud bank allowed the burst remains of several rusted sewage pipes to spew their foul content into the already sickly water. In fact, it was as if the whole town, (that a rusted old sign above us had once proclaimed Mareston) had sunken into the soft sands only to be flooded by the nearby lake.

Star seemed unfazed by the sight of the water, instead, he was eyeing over the upper ruins cautiously. I was guessing, despite my warning, he'd heard the radio too. While I didn't see anything (and yes before some smug voice in my head reminded me that there might be something in the water I was aware, thank you!) I was on edge. Becoming a slave was not on the top of my to-do list, it was admittedly below getting captured by raiders and getting eaten. Regardless, I wasn't gonna give any pony a chance to allow either possibility to transpire.

"We going around?" I asked casually, motioning to the north with a nod.

Even so, if we went that way we'd have to cross the San'prance River, not to mention it would take us dangerously close to the Sheen. I recoiled slightly as I realized that I didn't want drowning or ghoulification to be on my to-do list either.

"No, we're going through, head to Buck before nightfall," Star said firmly.

Right, that settles it. I told myself as my mind tried to warn me about things I knew to be blatantly obvious.

Wait, you were planning on staying the night in a town that has apparently been attacked by raiders recently? Are you also planning on simply trotting through their territory? My mind questioned, growing ever more patronizing. What about traps? Slavers? Monsters?

I sighed, there was a question of risk no matter where you were in the wasteland.

Besides, it won't be a problem for you, brain, because I won't have any second thoughts about killing any of the things you just listed, especially the latter.

As for traps? Well, they usually took care of themselves.

Nevertheless, as relaxed as I may be, the thoughts were enough to provoke me to drop my visor and draw my blaster warily. If anypony or anything crept up on me they'd be highlighted long before they had a chance to do anything more.

Unless they came from behind, above or below. Oh, and from behind a wall. My mind added smugly.

Admittedly, it could not see through walls like its original counterpart. Not that any of that stopped me, nor did it make the disgusting sensation of becoming knee-deep in foul sludge any more appealing. I was sure that only about one percent of the brown piss was actually water, the rest just sucked at my hooves like a vacuum. I'd half a mind to crawl onto Star's back.

He was certainly making this look easier than I was. Even with the weight of his armored battle saddle, his taller frame held him higher above the stinking sludge. Worse still, was the fact I'd just had this damn stuff cleaned. I fell into a sulking morbidity as I continued to fight the festering liquid under-hoof.

Goddesses, at least let me kill something before you make me trudge through all this shit! I groaned mentally, that irritating entity that was the wasteland laughing all the while.

Yet just like that, the foul shit hole that was the world seemed to oblige. There was a sharp ping as something rang off the hard surface of my dragon-scaled armor, followed momentarily by another. Instinctively and somewhat eagerly, I brought up my Saddle blaster and spun as fast as the mud would allow. My eyes fixed on a crumbling door, from which the shot had originated. I knew it wasn't a bullet, but I'd know that the moment it hit me, bullets at least tickled. No, this... This was pathetic.

The buzzing desert Bloatsprite didn't seem to agree, instead, the bobbing creature continued to fire its futile thorns. I glanced at Star, no way I was allowing him to unleash the thunder of his battle saddle on such a pathetic thing. It was kinda' adorable, and the sound of his guns would most likely bring every raider within a hundred miles down on our heads.

"Please, allow me," I stated elegantly, bowing as another futile ping bounced from my scales.

Then with a silent whoosh, the bobbing hunk of tainted meat was no more than ash in the thick mud.

Satisfied, I slipped the blaster back into its holster casually.

"I think you overdid it," Star joked, drawing a disapproving scowl from me.

"Well, at least I didn't have the whole fucking wasteland on our tails with my giant guns," I counted resentfully.

Star actually shut up at that, I mean wow that was easy. Yeah, my guns were better, quieter, and…

My proud thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang.

"Oh, fuck you wasteland!"

Dry earth had been hard to find amidst the flooded shit hole that may once have been habitable, but no matter how saturated, the moderately hard ground under my hooves was making my situation far easier.

I'd managed to find cover behind a slab of concrete that had fallen from a ruined walkway above. Unfortunately, several ruined buildings just down the flooded street, including an old weapons factory, still had many intact vantage points. From most of which a group of raiders, which I assumed to be the same group who'd terrorized Bucktown just a trot’s distance down the street, were now peppering the area where we were with a whole assortment of crudely maintained weaponry.

"Really?" I found myself snorting, they were holed up in a fucking weapons factory and still couldn't use firearms any better than a rusted pile of scrap?

The place must have really been picked clean long before they got there. I looked around over the foremost buildings and glimpsed the collapsed roof of the old factory, the words Ironshod Firearms written with rusted metal upon what still stood of its east wall. Another hail of pitifully inaccurate bullets clattered against the rubble around me the second I made myself visible and a rather distasteful set of creative profanities followed.

I simply sighed. First of all, bullets? How mind-numbingly boring. Nevertheless, I was the one who was out of range. Even my Saddle Blaster's minor spared only saw it hit targets a couple of yards away at best. Instead, upon finding cover, I'd resorted to one of the twins. Star was hunkered down across the street from me inside the rusted skeleton of an overturned sky wagon, the likes of which was held above the foul water by a mound of rubble.

My eyes were watching the still barrels of his heavy weapons with a growing frustration towards the fact they were not currently an option. It was both fortunate, and it tasted bad to say but, inconvenient that these raiders had been able to hold off their more savage urges long enough to retain numerous captives, and while I was sure Star wasn't one for just blasting the shit out of possibly innocent ponies, my one rule still applied.

I just had to find a way to get into the foremost ruins, those that appeared to have once been a cafe. At least a dozen of the bastards were held up on the ground floor and I could see several more by the upstairs windows. It was at times like this that I really wished my Pip Buck’s S.A.T.S still worked. Right now I could only see where they were, not target them.

Over the street to the left of the cafe, an old concrete walkway stretched over the water. I didn't need any magical assistance to see that such a vantage point had been turned into a shooting gallery, full of more Raiders. To my right was what appeared to be a shattered playground. The warped and blackened metal skeletons appeared to grow wickedly from the damp earth among bleached vegetation and ruined concrete.

On a wall just beyond was a large poster, its image flaking and aged. Teach your foals how to tank. Taking shelter saves lives it claimed in bright red letters, below the image of a turtle... No, tortoise, with a strange mechanical propeller strapped to its back. It smiled rather creepily, before shooting inside its shell at the sight of a fiery orange Kaboom!.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem like anypony had got the message. Instead, like some cruel joke, skeletons littered the scorched ground about it like fallen leaves, one sat atop the slide as if eternally waiting to 'Weeee' all the way down. Another leaned against the domed bars of a climbing frame, hooves desperately reaching through for the tightly curled-up remains of several foals.

I swallowed, it may have been almost two centuries ago, but those ponies weren't monsters. I'd always done what I could to keep monsters at bay, why else would I be engaging these trigger-happy fucks up in the factory, instead of simply going around? Yet looking at these made me feel, in some regard, I felt I'd failed a whole nation's worth of ponies and I was no stranger to failure. Before the thought could fester for too long, however, the rattling rain of gunfire from ahead abruptly ceased.

"Think they've scattered?" I heard one rather sickly raider ask.

"I don't fuckin' care! I wanna' eat em'" Another splurged loudly, his voice more akin to a wild cackle.

In one regard, the latter was an example of the raiders I knew and despised. A pony that didn't ask questions, and was so insane that they were practically a walking target. Smiling at the idiocy of the savages I peered across the playground. Between us was a metal mesh fence, a skeleton leaned against its melted mesh, forehooves pressed up onto the charred wires as if it had once tried to scream to the playing foals only to meet the same balefire-induced fate.

I swiftly looked past it, over the flooded road, and to the gore-decorated front of the old cafe.

How had I not noticed that? The radio warning was one thing, but the next few blocks practically cried raiders are here!

Dried blood and hardened entrails hang from the old balcony above the door coated in putrid fluids. Profound crimson text was scrawled over what little remained of the previous establishment's sign. The small metal fence, that I assumed had once been the outside seating area, had been repurposed as a set of trophy spikes. One other obstacle was the wicked form of a dead tree that stood between me and the mesh fence.

I plotted my course swiftly, setting my visor's custom targeting peripherals towards the equally perforated walkway to the left. Then I looked to Star.

"I'm going in there, the moment I'm clear give them more holes than a slice of cheese!"

For a moment the gray stallion looked at me disapprovingly. At first, I thought it might have been for something smart like... 'What if you don't come out?' Or the fact shooting that amount of firepower in the same direction as an old weapons factory was a stupid idea.

Wait? No, I was supposed to be the smart one here, and I'd only just considered that.

Regardless I rolled my eyes, figuring that he was sulking for a different reason.

"No way, it's my turn to kill some of these psychopaths, you'll get your turn next time!" I barked, and with that, he reluctantly nodded.

"All right Dragonfire here goes nothing!" I mumbled quietly to myself, before bolting around the concrete barrier.

A split second later the raiders seemed to rethink their theory as to whether we'd scattered or not and their hail of rusty old boring was completely re-directed towards me.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow!" I whined, as several bullets actually struck home, pinging irritatingly from my dragon-scaled barding.

A second of galloping and bullet ricochets later, I found myself by the charred remains of the tree and slid myself out of the raiders’ line of sight. The dead wood gave a splintering cracking sound as the rounds dug into its trunk, each splinter a sign from me to get my rear in gear and move.

I coughed and took a deep breath, my heart was racing now, my body pumped up with adrenaline. In my brief dash over here, the targeting matrix of my visor had highlighted several ponies up on the walkway in an outline of red. One outlined with green.

>Number of targets: four.

It displayed in the top right of my vision.

"Aww, helmet, I love you so much," I remarked softly.

Then the gunfire stopped.

"Come the fuck out from there, you filthy mule!" a staggered voice howled.

My eyes widened, ears pressed flat, and teeth grinding.

What did he just call me?

I stood up rolling around the tree and right into their line of fire.

"My turn!" I called loudly as I bolted forward once more, the plasma rifle held up in my magical grip opening fire with three buzzing bolts of crackling green light.

There was a hiss, a grunt, and a bubbling-liquefaction sound over the rush of my gallop as I reached the door.

>Hostile targets neutralized 3. Civilian casualties 0. A green set of words in my vision confirmed.

"That’ll teach you to call me a mule!" I panted to whoever was still alive to listen.

A second later, I pressed against the door of the cafe. Hopefully, the one friendly pony still up on the walkway still had the intellect to get back to town (if there was anything left of it) before any more of them got back up there. A moment later, and I moved over to the door, trying to ignore the warm stickiness that had doused the bricks against my back.

Blood was the best it could be, right? Okay brain, not helping!

With a sudden thud of what I assumed was somepony throwing something against the door from inside, it opened.

"Come on in!" a buck squealed eagerly.

I almost yelled be with you in a moment or something in similarly snide tone. But they didn't want to look at a mule now, did they?

I looked at my inventory, everything I had outlined my armor's sorting spell. A grenade? Easy but there may be hostages.

"Damn, I really wished I had an E.F.S that could see through walls."

No, I needed something else. A distraction, a…

I looked at the twisted remains of a café table before me and focused on a second table with a far more spoilt dining surface next to it. I grasped them both in my magic, then placed the solid cover in front of me, and rolled into the open doorway.

"Here you go!" I yelled loudly, tossing the other metal frame into the room.

Three Raiders exploded from behind the remains of a bloody counter reducing the mangled table to tattered ribbons in seconds. From just over the cover, my visor took a snapshot of the targets within the room.

"Damn!" I hissed as it identified two green shapes lay in the middle.

There were three reds behind the cafe counter and one red who looked to be making for the back door with two more greens.

"You idiots better keep them back from the factory." A buck, vaguely similar to the one that had questioned my disappearance only a moment ago called out.

"Don't worry about it, we'll see you keep nicely," a sour-toned mare griped back dismissively.

The buck snorted, and I paused for a moment listing in.

"Remember your place, scum."

At his sharp reply, it was the mares turn to growl.

"Go on, get back in there with the rest of your filthy meat," she retorted bitterly, her voice heralding the sound of a metal hoof against what sounded like some pony's flank.

These sure are some strange raiders? But at the possibility, some green-lit pony was getting the wrong end of a hard hoof I spurned myself back into action.

Pressing back against the gore-coated wall I kicked my rolling cover away. Now they were targeted, I could see their outlines through the walls. Albeit it, only in the positions I'd glimpsed them in, but the spell matrix would see to any swift retargeting calibrations, the moment I could see them again. Looking closely I noticed that one of them even had an energy rifle, strange for a raider, but my only thought was to make it mine.

Changing to the more fitting weapon of my Saddle Blaster, I jumped right back into the doorway. Sure enough, three scarred and bloody faces turned to me, one grizzled mare from a half-open door in the back wall, smiled wickedly. There were several flashes, a sizzle, and a splat and they became two piles of ash and a headless corpse before any of their bullets could find their way to my hide.

Better still the decapitating shot saw the energy rifle was undamaged, and I fought not to squeal. Allowing my targeting matrix to make out any more hostiles, which it, fortunately, notified me as zero, I cautiously trotted into the room.

The torn carpet was no better than the mud outside, it squelched under-hoof bringing foul-smelling moisture up to meet my nose as well as the already putrid scent that clung to most raider dens. On the crumbling walls clung a damp, sagging, yellow lemon wallpaper the likes of which was in no better condition than the sewer-saturated floor. The remains of several dinner tables, including the one I'd tossed, sat scattered about like rusted bones. Above me desiccated corpses hung like crude decorations, dripping foul ichor onto the wet carpet. In the shattered remains of the blood-soaked display counter were the severed limbs and heads of mutilated ponies, most post-mortem and bloated, dark crimson liquid seeping from every orifice.

It was something I said every time I saw a place like this, but by the goddesses how could anypony be so fucked up?

I gagged, not realizing there was more. In the far right corner, below a ruined flight of stairs, blunted, beaten and their flanks scored with sharpened metal table legs removing any trace of a cutie mark were several mutilated corpses, ones my matrix had not marked.

Damn it, Damn it! I mentally cursed, my mind berating me for my failure. No. No, I'd still managed to get two! I told myself swiftly turning to the hostages.

One was a yellow unicorn mare, the other a brown stallion. Both lay on soggy, sewage-stained mattresses. Their coats were scarred, marred by bites, cuts, bruises, and burns. Their flanks red and raw. Looking at them I knew for sure that these Raiders fell under the monster category.

Just another reason to go kill them all. I declared as my horn flared brighter and my dragon claw knife joined the cyan cloud of levitation that suspended my blaster.

"I'll have you out in a tick," I told them swiftly, and both stared at me, eyes wide in disbelief.

"No, no. Not more slavers! You... you might as well kill us. Please no more!" The mare begged, kicking me away from her the best she could while trapped by her bloody bonds.

I backpedaled slightly, ashamed that I had made myself look like such a despicable thing in some ponies eyes. Setting the mild hurt aside, however, I smiled as warmly as I could.

“Really? You think a slaver could take out all those savages?” I asked, looking back over the counter.

All they did was shiver.

Okay, so trying to joke with two ponies that had been raped, beaten and goddesses know what else definitely wasn't the best move. My mind stated flatly.

Ha, ha. I retorted mentally before moving slowly forward and carefully cutting the ropes.

"No, I'm not a slaver. I can earn an honest living, thank you very much!" I explained breaking the bonds around her rear hooves.

She trembled before twitching her recently unbound limbs, grimacing at the pain and numbness. At least she hadn't said I was a merc yet, and even in that line of work, I tried to be honest, unlike some of the traitorous, backstabbing scum that worked as mercenaries. I'd like to see a Talon do what I just did, without getting some extra caps on the side for the trouble. With another flick of the claw, I cut her ropes and freed the poor mare, before swiftly moving onto the stallion.

He seemed a little better for his trouble.

I just guess us mares were more appealing... I abruptly cut off that train of thought. No, brain, I certainly wasn't that horrifying.

The other mare just stared at me, wide-eyed and in painful tears as I freed her battered companion.

"You're real, aren't you?" she coughed in a frail and broken voice.

"Sure hope I am," I replied while releasing the stallion from his final bond.

"You... You are… They have more of us up in the factory. Mister Red just took Sugar Cube and Sweet Sun back up there... You... You have to go..." The mare's words flooded out in a wild torrent, the realization I wasn't some slaver like a balefire bomb against the dam of her concerns.

Mister Red? I swiftly made a connection between what she'd said, and the buck I'd glimpsed leaving with two other green-lit ponies.

So I was right to be suspicious, he didn't strike me as a hardcore raider, especially when he'd asked a reasonably sensible question. Without realizing my knife gnawed through the last strings of the buck's blooded bounds. He flinched almost jumping up into me as I staggered back from him.

Raped raider victims. That’s right, they get touchy about strangers laying a hoof on them. Touchy-touchy is not a good idea. My brain mocked condescendingly.

The quivering form of the buck only reinforced that patronizing sentiment as he fought to rise to his hooves, then the dull eyes of a broken soul looked at me for a long moment, and through the tint of my visor, I regarded their green outlines.

Not monsters. Well done, Dragonfire good job, just an unknown amount more to go.

"How do I get to the factory floor from here?" I asked, glancing back at the door this Mister Red had taken.

There was simply no reply from the pair.

Well, a thank you would certainly be nice. I moaned mentally, trying not to open my muzzle as the somewhat selfish statement crossed my mind.

"Um... They had us gagged and blindfolded most of the time, but that alley there, I'm sure that's…” The mare's words were staggered and fleeting.

The moment I resumed eye contact with her, she became silent again. The buck, however, gave a frail nod in agreement.

"Um, you should get out of here, my partner’s outside, don't worry he's' friendly..."

Before I could finish the pair had latched onto the opportunity and fled through the crooked door.

Wow, so grateful. Shut up brain!

A second later, I made my way back around the counter making sure to salvage the energy rifle and its respective ammo as well as any other loot the corpses offered as I entered the alleyway. Behind me, a mangled wall of metal and rotted wood formed a barricade between the alley and the flooded street. Ahead, along the long shrouded space was the rear of the Ironshod factory. Above the alleyway, guts and flayed skin was hung like laundry lines between the two buildings, the words fuck off written in blood on the side of a rusted old dumpster to the right. I was also met by several more wickedly smiling ponies, likely excited to have some fresh meat to fuck and beat.

They were armed and taking cover behind the dumpster. Two were swiftly dispatched the first time they exposed their heads to fire, the third and fourth managed a few shots against my scales before I charged at them. The first, a silky brown mare clad in blooded, spiked armor, was met by my hind hooves.

I opened with a buck to the face and, unlike the Sparkle Cola bottles that formed part of her crude helmet claimed, this assault lacked radishes. The second Raider I slashed at with my dragon claw, my magical grip bringing the naturally serrated blade across her throat as she tried to bite down on a rusty shotgun. The lash left her bleeding corpse on the flooded asphalt, and I looked to the second mare sourly, her hoofs clutching a face that was naught but a bruised mess scarred by the sharp glass of her shattered, bottle glasses.

I pinned a heavy forehoof hard on her chest stopping her squirming.

"What the fuck are you ponies doing here?" I demanded.

What do you think Dragonfire? They're raiders, you know what they do.

That, brain, was my point.

I'd seen raiders, I'd seen slavers, I'd seen both together, and never were they this organized or chummy with one another. The bloodied mare hissed more akin to a rattle-tail than a pony. The barrel of Zap, Zap pressing against her messed up face soured her will to resist somewhat.

Told you you'd see some action little guy. I mentally remarked as if it could somehow, telepathically understand my thoughts.

“It was, Mister Red. He comes in here asking for ponies when we're done with ‘em. Brazen Skulls up in the mines need ‘em so they pay more fer da able-bodied ones. He’s a lot more lenient about dey’re health dough, ‘e only cares dat ‘e can put ‘em to slavin’ in ‘is mines," the mare muttered as if such a long sentence were hard for her small mind to formulate.

Her bloodied eyes seemed to have no such problem as they fixed on me, waiting for any slip. She was looking in the wrong place, and my own eyes narrowed as if our stares were more lethal than our guns or hooves.

"Where?"

The causal implications of her past confession forced my words to slip through gritted teeth.

"Up in the factory, second-floor office, ‘e don't let us up dere. Da fucker," she explained resentfully, only supporting my theory that raiders and slavers seldom cooperated.

At her confession, I scowled. Whenever I had to deal with a factory it was usually robots, well this threw that track record out of the metaphorical window. The problem was, this place was gonna be crawling with raiders. My other problem was that even if this was not a part of our job in any way I was not leaving a potential town's worth of ponies to fall into slavery. Glancing up at the factory wall above the alleyway I had an idea. Lifting my hoof of the squirming raider I wrapped her firmly in my magic.

"I'll be right back," I lied happily, tossing her into the rusted old dumpster before fastening it shut with one of the chains they'd been hanging their gory decorations with and leaving her there.

There were two doors, the one on the right was open and emitted the foulest of smells, the left was closed, a barred window separating it from the catwalks above the factory floor. Below two large rows of slave cages sat among the old remains of the factory's production lines, as well as the battered remains of robots that had once guarded the place. I could have laughed at the thought, how many raiders had killed themselves trying to best the security bots? If it were not for them shooting up at me.

Unfortunately, despite Star's timely intervention through the rear loading doors some of the fuckers had managed to get to cover leaving both of us as targets. Worse still, he was swiftly catching up with me on kill score, the sudden roar of his mini-gun often heralded my cursing in regard to his escalating kill count.

I meanwhile, had managed to sneak in through the upper floor’s fire escape, the likes of which I'd seen from the alleyway. I'd imagined it would be the easy way. I'd guessed that far too soon, however. That fact was only made more evident as a bullet struck the roof above me.

Moving swiftly forward along the catwalk I was struck with a sharp dash of pain as another shot glanced my undercarriage, and then two more struck my left foreleg.

"Goddesses, when I designed this stuff I didn't expect to be crawling above the damn bullets!" I hissed to myself as I reached the far factory wall and leaned back against it.

More gunshots sounded over the roar of Star's mini-gun and the raiders’ profane shouting. I frowned angrily, my horn flaring. I found myself staring right at a sign on the opposite wall. It said rather amusingly, Ironshod firearms, how do you like them apples? The latter words crossed my mind as my magical grip tore off two of the fixed roof lights and proceeded to smash them down onto several raiders below,

"How do you like them apples?" I shouted as I vented my frustration.

Rolling back onto my hoofs, and with the upward flak temporally culled, I retrieved a set of magical healing bandages from my saddlebags and swiftly wrapped them around my scathed forehoof.

"Goddesses, I really hate bullets! I went to the trouble of killing a dragon to make sure I don't get riddled with any!" I complained to myself as I approached what was once the factory office, before bucking the door open with a firm kick of my hind hooves.

"Don't move another inch," a white-coated unicorn buck, with a red mane and cutie mark that was strangely nothing more than a red square declared dryly.

His sharp, scarlet eyes were narrowed as his magical aura levitated a revolver to the head of a pink-coated unicorn mare at his side. My expression wrinkled in frustration. Why did every pony seem to know about my one rule? Surely they didn't assume anypony else was decent enough not to shoot innocent ponies out here.

Glancing to my left I saw a desk, complete with a terminal and an old photo of a sandy yellow, earth pony buck with a brown leather vest and rodeo hat, rearing up on a desert ridge. It was sunset, or rise, I couldn't tell, in the background. Finally, in the craggy wall of flaking, blue wallpaper below it was a wall safe. Before the dark steel box, lying motionless on the worn, green carpet were two mares, both bearing a bullet wound through their skulls. Sugar Cube and Sweet Sun I assumed sadly, by their white sugar cube and beaming sunlight cutie marks.

Goddesses, fuck this guy, I've known him for a moment and he's already right at the top of my to-kill list. My visor seemed to agree as it fought to distinguish between him and the mare pressed against his side.

Behind him, to the right was another eye-stinging sight. A barbed cage formed a dome, within which a dull blue mare was curled up with her back to me. She seemed to be sobbing. Monsters? My vision became redder than the eyes of my new opponent, and yet I lowered my weapon.

Mister Red, I assumed, looked at me with a cold smile, the mare beside him appearing strangely ashamed, and her eyes seemingly begged forgiveness for this predicament. That look on her face didn't do anything to lighten my frustration. It wasn't her fault she was a slave.

"Good, that's a good little pony. Now drop it!" he stated with a firm stamp of his hoof.

Sure enough, the magical field around my Saddle Blaster evaporated and it fell to the carpet. Mister Red smiled as his own crimson magic enveloped my weapon.

"Now the rest," he almost purred, retrieving the rest of my energy weaponry and turning them all with their barrels pointed at me.

Those guns? The chances of me surviving a shot from each one? Even with my barding? Nil. I had made sure. Besides I was more bothered about the strangely cold betrayal I felt to see them aimed at me, only for the chilling pit within me to begin to boil. This buck had crossed the line and my eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Now you're gonna be a good little filly and call down to your friend. Tell him to stop," he ordered coolly, his expression far too relaxed.

Our eyes locked as my failure to move challenged him. He stepped forward and away from the pink unicorn's side, his confidence growing with the addition of my arsenal.

"Please do as I ask, I don't have all day," he asked politely.

In the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the pink mare tentatively slip away from the gun levitating beside her. Mister Red failed to notice. Instead, his gaze was locked on me like a newly found vendetta.

"I can't imagine working with a bunch of raiders, are they giving you a hard time?" I asked, distracting this fool of a stallion as the mare in the background crept back.

He seemed strangely intruded by that. "Yes, you couldn't imagine how difficult managing this lot is! They try to have me killed daily. Now if you please."

He motioned one of my plasma rifles to the open doorway. I turned slightly.

"You know I never thought you Brazens were the type to stoop so low," I taunted, knowing full well that being a slaver was about as low as anypony could get, negating pure insanity of course.

His cool expression didn't falter, he just smirked.

"You could say they're under new management," he told me.

I gave a fake, dry laugh.

"Yeah, hasn't done much for your peripherals though," I stated smugly.

He cocked an eyebrow in confusion before the photo from the desk, or more accurately its metal frame smashed, hard into the back of his head. I leaped forward as he staggered and blindly fired off all four of my guns into the spot I'd just occupied. There was another loud crack as the revolver also fired, followed by a sharp yelp as the stray bullet struck my would-be savior in the hind hoof and she stumbled.

Rearing up, I came down on the buck's chest with my forehooves. My horn began to glow with more than just telekinesis as I pressed it to his heart.

"Nice chat," I declared as I focused my magic and cast a bolt of glowing, blue flame right into his chest.

The buck screamed as his heart melted out of his torso, and the smell of charred flesh filled the room. Then he gagged on his last gasp of air before falling limp.

"They never learn! Stupid ponies!" I added as I stepped back and recovered my stolen guns with extreme prejudice.

Over the fading sound of gunfire downstairs, I could hear the pink unicorn mare spill a mix of weak curses and uncontrollable sobs as she clutched her right hind hoof lightly.

"Here, use one of these," I advised, trotting over and offering up one of my magical healing bandages.

She looked at the magically augmented medical supplies cautiously. By the look of her bruised hide, burn marks, and wounds I could tell she'd not had it easy, a bit easier than those I'd saved in the cafe, but still not easy.

"Don't worry, I'm not a slaver," I assured her with a kind smile.

One of those two gestures must have been right as she tentatively took my offer of aid, before setting to work on wrapping the bandages around her hoof.

One hostage secure. I thought to myself while trying to avoid looking at the two ponies I'd failed to save.

There was nothing more I could do for them, and if I let it get to me, it would destroy me like it had to so many other ponies before. Instead, I focused my attention on the crudely built cage in the far corner of the room, the likes of which looked out of place in the mostly neat office. Upon opening what I assumed was the door (if not oh no, I just broke some piece of shit cage) I found a raider.

A fucking raider pony… Wait, what? My mind boggled.

It was a raider, but not a run-up and eat-your-face-off raider. She was curled up around something and sobbing heavily.

Wait, what? I mentally backtracked again.

Raiders didn't do this, they were not smart, not organized, and certainly didn't cry, not consciously anyway. My anger dwindled, my horn’s glow weakening its grip on my weapons.

There was a Raider? A monster? Damn it, Dragon! Do your job! It's okay to kill monsters! But no…

My eyes widened as the sobbing mare uncurled to reveal a tiny foal, barely a few weeks old. A mother? My ears fell flat against my skull and I staggered back in terror.

No, no, no. Not this! No. No. Fuck you, wasteland! I knew what you were up to. No, no, no! Not this!

The sobbing Raider cackled coldly as the little foal pulled something from her hoof.

"Who’s mommy's good little boy?" She croaked dryly.

There was a soft beep, then another as I saw the mine in the laughing foal's tiny hooves. My eyes went wider than they'd ever been my heart stopped abruptly, then it jump-started with more power than a balefire bomb. My horn flashed telekinesis wrapping around the closest thing. It turned out to be the desk and the pink mare I'd just saved.

Instinctively I dived back behind the overturned desk, taking my uneasy pink companion with me. There was another beep and a childish giggle. In that unbearably still moment, the world felt as if it had died. Then it was filled by a deafening boom.

Footnote: Level Up.

New Perk Added: Barnstormer (Level One) - You know how to clear a building, even if it’s in your own special way. Gain +1 perception and endurance when attacking enemies from the outside of a structure.

Updated artwork for this chapter kindly provided by: PonyEcho once again!