Trekking across the Equestrian Wasteland very quickly taught me two important truths. One: traveling at night is a bad idea, especially if you're alone. Two: bullets are very, very, very finite. Perhaps more immediately relevant but less philosophically profound was the discovery that a submachine gun burns through bullets very quickly.

I found myself berating my lack of forethought for not realizing the first and panicking about the second while a steady stream of spines thudded into the hillock I was hiding behind. Dirt spewed into the air, showering me with clods of earth when a projectile grazed the top of the mound but went through instead of just burying itself harmlessly.

My jumpsuit was a filthy wreck. It was a mottled, dark burgundy color where blood had stained it, mostly from my gunshot wound earlier in the day. Rips and tears were everywhere, whether they were from splintering wood, the sharp edges of that one raider's armor, or the aforementioned gunshot. Some of the holes were big enough to let the chunks of dirt through to the interior, making the entire get up hugely uncomfortable. If I was going to survive out here, I was going to need something much better.

Ah. Right. Surviving. First I had to get away from these... whatever they hell they were. Roughly spherical bodies that floated on gossamer wings. At least, I assume they used to be spherical. Now they were grotesque and deformed, hideous flesh that looked like it was almost coming off as it flew, strange bumps and bulges belying a body that wasn't what it should be. Some of the bulges had spines protruding from them, and they could apparently fire them at whatever they wanted.

I lifted the SMG over the top of the hill, keeping my head way down to keep it from being taken off. Spines plinked off the gun, nicking the metal casing but otherwise doing no damage. Thank Celestia for small favors. I fired off a burst at the deformed insects, missing horribly. Of course. They weren't near as bad as I was. One spine went through my ear, and beneath the immediate prick of pain I felt a tingling. It spread very slowly from to the tip of my ear and then towards the rest of my skull. Uh oh. I had to finish this soon, and then hope that the poison or venom or whatever it was didn't kill me.

The SMG clicked empty and I swore. I was down to just one magazine and then a handful of bullets left over. Counting the red pips on my compass told me there were four of the things floating slowly toward me. I still didn't know how much it would take to kill one of them, and I wasn't about to sit here spraying until I finally hit one and pray that one bullet killed it. I had to find some way to event the odds.

They were close enough that I could hear their wings thrumming. Running out of time. Had to find something to help. Inventory? Everything was useless. They were closing in, and so was panic. I had nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

In my panic I must have pressed a button or something; I don't remember how it happened. I just know that my attention was brought to rest exactly on the lead creature. Time slowed, and I the thing's wings stopped in mid-flight, but it didn't fall. I marvelled at the sensation of not being able to move but still being able to think, and used that peculiar property of whatever was happening to think about how to kill the blasted thing. Time abruptly sped back up, and my SMG fired a burst of shells that ripped into what I now somehow knew was a “bloatsprite.” It popped like a balloon. A water balloon filled with a twisted, tainted sludge. Strangely, I didn't feel the urge to void my guts. Maybe that only happened when I saw pony blood and guts? No matter. I now knew I possessed something to help me kill these abominations. I just had to figure out how to use it again.

It's strange how quickly panic can morph into pleased excitement.

My pipbuck flashed a warning at me, telling me that “S.A.T.S.” was depleted. I recognized the name from the list of features I had enabled before I entered the door, but hadn't used. Didn't know how to use. Apparently that was what I had killed the bloatsprite with. Hell, that was probably how I found out it was a bloatsprite in the first place! Half of the things in my pipbuck I would never know how it worked or how it knew what it knew. Probably didn't want to know anyway.

I had to find that button again. My life probably quite literally depended on it.

Found it! I pressed it, relieved that I could end this objectively pretty pathetic fight (a bunch of mid-sized insects pinned me down and sent me into a panic) and be on my way.

Nothing happened. Shit. My pipbuck flashed me the message “S.A.T.S. Recharging” and showed a me a bar that was slowly filling back up to what I assumed was full. Fine. I could be patient if I needed to.

Okay, I thought I could be patient. I found myself constantly pressing the button, ignoring the flashing message until it finally let me re-enter the spell. I blew away another of the sprites with another burst. I felt like I was getting good at this. Duck into S.A.T.S., kill a sprite, duck back into cover, repeat. I couldn't seem to fire much less than half a dozen shots even if I wanted to though, which made ammo a concern again. I was down to less than a full magazine for my SMG.

Two left. A burst from my submachine gun. One left. Ducked behind cover, waited to recharge, popped back up, fired... and missed.

A small voice in the back of my head bitched at me for thinking that this nifty new spell would make me immune to missing. Of course I could still miss.

So I did. Twice more. Frustration boiled up in me, and it took almost all the self-control I was able to muster to not just charge the last annoying sprite and stab it to death. My ear still burned, and the burning was spreading across the top of my head and down the side of my face. A light cloud was drifting over my thoughts, making it more difficult to think. More difficult, but not impossible. Just enough to know that there was something wrong.

I heard a buzzing, much closer than it should be and looked straight up in time to see the last sprite crest my little mound of dirt, spines already firing. I felt a few of them embed in my all-but-completely-exposed flesh through my coat. A few more missed, and the last were inexplicably halted by my ruined jumpsuit. I cried out in shock and pain, feeling the poison/venom already burning beneath my skin. The sprite was close enough to kill without S.A.T.S. at least. I did so, with a sense of great satisfaction. Nevermind the bloatsprite guts now seeping into my suit, as unpleasant as that was, I had just survived another encounter in the wastes, against something I had never seen before, outnumbered, in the middle of the night. Take that, Wasteland.

Then I felt it. The tingling. It was a burning sensation, no, it was worse. It made my mane itch and my skin crawl. Any exposed part of my body that the sprite's guts had covered was shuddering in revulsion. This stuff was evil. I had to get it off. Right now.

I tried scraping it off with my hooves, but that just made them tingle and crawl too, and the parts of me that I “cleaned” still practically screamed that something was wrong, even if less so than before. In the midst of all of this, my pipbuck was clicking at an alarming rate; I was picking up rads like I never had before. It scared me.

I shed my shredded jumpsuit as fast as I could, wiping away as much of the tainted material as I could. I was naked now, yes, but I felt much safer, all things considered. Most of the guts were gone, and the parts that I couldn't clean entirely didn't feel like my skin would crawl off and leave at any second anymore. The only parts of my clothing that I kept were my saddlebags. I had the feeling I was going to need those.

I took stock of my situation. I still had my submachine gun, now looking much the worse for wear, and ten bullets left for it. My knife, healing potion, and four bobby pins, with 40 caps stuffed into a pocket. Pipbuck working better than ever, now that I actually knew how to use it.

A quick look at my map was a welcome surprise. Those horrid creatures had ambushed me just over a mile from Chantilly. If not for these hills, I probably could have seen a few of the lights from here.

I took a step forward, toward the town, and almost ate the dirt right then and there. The Goddesses-damned bloatsprite spines were making me dizzy. Most of my body felt like it was on fire. I had to get to the city, and fast. I doubted a healing potion would do much to stop the poison (funny how imminent bodily danger makes up one's mind rather quickly) for very long, but I kept it ready, just in case.

The poison was making walking hard, and thinking harder. I was basically on autopilot at this point. I had to get to the town, so I followed the blinking arrow on my compass. I'd get there eventually. I had to. This fog. Hate it. Poison. Not good. Had to... town.

* * * * * *

The next thing I knew, I was waking up on a bed that wasn't mine, staring at a ceiling that wasn't mine, naked. What the fuck? Where was my bar? Where were my clothes? Where the fuck was I?

Wait. I remembered. I was in the wastes, looking for the raider camp. The camp that butchered half of my Stable. I had to get back out there! I had to--

Head met ground as I flopped off the bed. Stars blossomed in my vision.

“Whoa there! Take it easy there. You were pretty fucked up from those bloatsprites.”

The voice was entirely unfamiliar to me and had the exact opposite effect of calming me down. Panic flaired, and I flailed my limbs, trying to right myself and stand up. They weren't quite working how I wanted to them, responding half a second too late to everything I wanted to do. It was like being drunk except my mental processes weren't nearly as impeded.

“I said, take it easy!” I felt myself enveloped in a field of magic. Apparently whoever this pony was, he was a unicorn. He rotated me to face him and spoke veeeery slooooowly, as if I were too stupid to understand him. To be fair, I hadn't really given him any indication otherwise, but it was still insulting. “Caaaalm dowwwn.”

“Fine, just put me down. This is humiliating.” I had the feeling this buck could wipe the floor with me again, so arguing didn't seem like the most constructive thing at the moment. Still, a bit of dignity would go a long way in my mind. Fortunately, he relaxed and complied. “Thanks. Now I've got a few questions.” Okay, kind of blunt, probably not the best way to open the next part of the conversation.

“Hold it, missy. Mine first.” I hmph'd but didn't say anything else, and he kept going. “Who are you? You shouldered your way into my shop and passed out on my floor first thing in the morning. I don't think I've ever pulled as many spikes from a living pony before. And you apparently rolled around in the thing's guts after you killed it.”

I perked up at his question. I was in Chantilly? The last thing I remember was walking along the straight line path I'd picked to get to the town, eyes glued to my E.F.S. for red dots, making decent time. And then... Damn bloatsprites. I must have muttered it out loud, because he gave a little chuckle. “Ayup, you were just studded with their spines. I'm don't know how far you came, but if it was any sort of real distance I'm very impressed.”

My expression must have been one of horror, or something, because he quickly continued. “Now now, don't you fret any, I patched you up, removed the spikes, even cleared the taint you managed to pick up. My treat.” His face turned more serious. “But the next time it happens, I'll have to charge you my going rate. Sixty caps for a basic patch up. Another forty for a taint cleansing. Get both at the same time and you get a free rad-cleansing. Your little treatment is a hundred caps of my goodwill. I won't collect on it now, but I might ask for a favor done later, m'kay?”

Huh. Well, that wasn't as bad as it could have been. This doctor seemed like a good pony. “I'm still waiting for an answer,” he probed. Oh, right.

“Oh, right. I'm Mint Julep, from Stable 20 across the hills a few miles. I'm looking for some raiders. They attacked our Stable, and took enough to seriously threaten its survival.” That seemed to surprise him.

“Raiders? Attacked the Stable? Damn, they're getting bold. That's bad.” He paused lost in thought.

“Um, excuse me? I do need to find them.” Figured I'd just throw that out there.

That seemed to startle him out of his thoughts. “Oh, yeah. Tell you what, I'll call in that favor now, actually. You're looking for that raider camp? I know the general direction.” He paused, as if conflicted. “I want you to scout it out. Figure out how many raiders there are. How well they're armed. What their leader looks like. Take that information to the local sheriff, goes by the name Splinter. You'll know him when you see him.”

He paused again, as if waiting for me to weigh in. When I didn't, he kept going. “You do that for me, and I'll call us even. Hell, I'd even give you a discount for services provided in the future, if'n you ever need them.”

Well then. I'd been awake in this town for a grand total of ten minutes, and I already had another job to do. Fortunately, coincided with what I was already doing, but still. I didn't need anything getting in my way. On the other hand, he was offering a discount, and I didn't have many caps to my name. A discount might go a long way.

I thought it over for a few more seconds. “Alright, but I could use some supplies too. And I still don't even know your name, mister...?”

“Bonesaw. I know, it sounds gruesome, but don't get caught up on it.” He trotted over to a cabinet in the corner of the room, a room with only one door and no windows, I noted for some strange reason, and pulled out an object before handing it to me. It was some kind of armored barding. Not very heavy or the best protection you'd ever find, but a hell of a lot better than anything I had with me or ever used. “Years back I used to run with one of the smaller gangs around Fillydelphia, before Red Eye really moved in and cleaned up the place. Called ourselves the 'Delphia Delvers. Made our living and got our kicks exploring the ruins of the inner city. The gang is gone, scattered across the wastes, but this was our uniform. It's better than it looks, trust me on that.”

It certainly didn't look like much; it'd take a lot to disappoint. The old uniform fit me better than I thought it would, especially considering how much bigger Bonesaw was than me. What I assumed to be the gang symbol, an old spelunking helmet, was emblazoned on each flank where it covered my cutie mark. It wasn't much, and wouldn't stop the kind of rifle the raider I encountered yesterday had, but it might have stopped the smaller pistol bullet that gave me a lot of grief. Much better. My only gripe was that it was heavier than I was used to.

“You're gonna have to find your own ammo for that peashooter though. I don't bring guns in here, and even if you'd have been conscious I'd have taken yours and left it in the waiting room before letting you back here. It's on the end table as you're leaving.”

I graciously thanked him for the help he'd given me already. Just as easily, he could have either let me die, or taken everything I had and I would have been powerless to stop him. Instead, I was fully healed, and now I had something that might actually stop more than a particularly persistent tree branch from poking a hole in me.

Before I left, he marked on my map the general direction of the raider camp. It was a fair distance away, further than Stable 20 was, but in a different direction. “Anything else I should watch out for on my way there?” It didn't hurt to double check.

Bonesaw shook his head, “not that I know of. Don't mean there's nothing, though. You be careful.”

That was all I really needed from this place. I bid him farewell, picked up my SMG and the less than a dozen bullets I had left for it and headed out into the street. Walking out into the open air made me flinch a little bit, but I'd already spent the better part of a day on the surface; I would be fine. I exited the building into what had to be the brightest part of the day. Apparently the much better part of the day, it must be nearly noon already, maybe even past that. That told me roughly how long I'd been out, at least.

The town I was in spectacularly failed to impress me. There must only have been a couple score ponies living here, spread over enough distance that no two houses stood together and most were separated by a hundred feet or so in most directions. A general store, complete with fluorescent sign and “OPEN” sign greeted me just across the street, and a rudimentary inn stood down the street, proudly proclaiming itself to the the “Sandpony Inn.” Really, not impressed, especially coming out of the Stable.

Unfortunately, beggars can't be choosers, and I trotted over to the general store. I did need ammo rather badly, after all. The door was open, if you considered “hanging off its hinges” to mean “open.” Walking in, I was greeted by a very stern looking mare who was very quick to tell me that troublemakers were not welcome and would be dealt with immediately. I'm not going to lie, she was pretty intimidating. Any non-existent thoughts I had of making trouble swiftly became even moreso.

The counter was right in front of me as I walked into the shop, with a jovial and rather large (and definitely less muscular than not) stallion manning the helm. I really took the gruff mare's words to heart as I approached. “I need some ammo.” There. Quick, precise, and to the point.

The stallion just chuckled and said “like hell you do! What you need is a proper piece of weaponry! What the hell kind of a gun is that? How hard did you have to look to find a knife with more rust than steel? No, that just won't do.”

I fancied myself a decent barterer and a fair-to-middling salespony, but this buck blew me out of the water at the ease at which he relaxed me, lowered my guard, and opened me to the concept of spending all of my money right then and there. Fortunately I wasn't entirely wrong, and managed to get a few good points of my own into the haggle that I never expected to get into. I sold my SMG and the ammo I had for it (it really was junk, and I couldn't afford to support it) for a few quick caps, and then turned around and spent them all, and all of the 40 caps I started with on a decent quality shotgun and three dozen shells for it, about eight of which were slugs instead of normal buckshot. I kept the knife. There was something special about it, in my eyes.

“You come back now, ya hear? Customers from out of town that come back more than twice get a one-time bit of store credit.” Damn he was good, somehow just him mentioning store credit made me want to come back. I was really starting to like this town. Might even come back here in a few years, after all this business was done, the Stable was back to normal, and I was able to con some poor pony into running the bar for me. Some day.

The whole town was circled by a picket fence. It was more of a “watch out, town here” sign than any serious kind of deterrent to anything that wanted to get in. On my way to the gate, I realized why the houses were so spread apart: nearly all of them had little farms around them. About a dozen ponies were actively out in the fields, weeding rows of crop, repairing small barbed wire fences that cordoned off the individual plots, or doing laundry, or any number of chores. It felt just laid back enough to be comfortable, and just hard working enough to feel something close to safe. I almost didn't want to leave and finish my mission at all.

Almost.

I almost at the gate when one of the townsponies, a mare, caught up with me. “Hey, you, newcomer. You're not headed for that raider camp, are you?”

Goddesses, how did word travel that fast? I tried to downplay the matter, and probably failed. “I might be. Why?”

Yep, definitely failed. Her eyes lit up and it looked like at least a little weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “My name is Dacquoise. The raiders... two months ago, they took my son when he was scavenging for equipment along the road south of here.” South? The raider camp, according to my map, was a decent distance north-east of the town. Wariness crept into my mind. “I hold no illusions that he's still alive, they are raiders after all, but he had a precious family heirloom with him when he went missing. I need it back.”

Two months. I guess that made more sense than the few days or hours that I had been thinking. You know what, why the hell not? I was already heading that way, I might as well look for this heirloom she was talking about. “I look out for it, but I can't make any promises.”

That seemed to satisfy her. “That's all I'm asking. Trust me, you can't miss it. It's a small statuette of
one of the old Ministry Mares, Pinkie Pie. It was given to my family as a gift before the war ended, and we've kept it in the family ever since. It means so much to me. Those raiders may have taken my son, but I'll die before I let them keep that, too.” I admired her dedication to the ideal of causing raiders pain. I know I just said I wouldn't make any promises, but this had just jumped to near the top of my priorities list.

“I'll do my best.” We parted ways, her spirits considerably raised, my motivation considerably boosted now that I had another way to hurt raiders.

I actually got out the gate this time before I got stopped again. “Hey, are you headed to the raider camp?”

My patience was wearing more than a little thin. Was I really that easy to read? How could walking in this general direction unequivocally mean 'going to raider camp'? “What is it this time?” I snapped at the newcomer.

He was a light gray earth pony stallion with a darker, charcoal mane that drifted into his eyes and around his nose. Probably around my age or maybe a little younger and most definitely easy on the eyes. Well, at least I thought so, which probably wasn't saying much considering I spent most of my time up to this point staring at walls all day. Not the point. The point was that he was a very handsome piece of work.

“Oh! Uhm, sorry about that,” I said sheepishly. Why was I so flustered all of a sudden? “I'm just trying to get out of town and do my job, and ponies keep stopping me.”

Wait a second, did he just blush? I couldn't be sure, what with the dark(ish) coat and the mane partly covering his face, but it sure looked like it. “I, ah, well... I saw you walking this way and, uhm, I, well, thought you could use some h-help? Maybe?”

Oh, well if that wasn't just adorable. Definitely younger, or maybe didn't get out much. I thought over his offer. It was true I could use the help. If there was anything my two encounters with the things the Wasteland could throw at me was any indication, I would be hard pressed to deal with an entire camp of raiders without leaving my body decorating the ground in the middle of nowhere. Or some raider-pony's armor. Okay, moving on from that pleasant thought.

I probably – well, okay, definitely put more show into mulling it over than I actually did, just to see his reaction. He looked so nervous! It was definitely cute, and that quality about him was honestly not a non-factor in my decision.

“I don't know, can you handle yourself in a fight?” Simple question, important question, and, I thought, fairly warranted. It had the unintentional effect of blasting all that cute nervousness away like fog on a hot day.

“Probably a lot better than you can, from the looks of you when you stumbled in earlier,” he said with a fierce but not unfriendly glare. Ooh, ouch. Well, that was certainly true. It was about then that I noticed what he was wearing. It was some kind of armored gear that I had never seen before. It had what looked like a pair of rifles mounted on it with imposingly large barrels, and the way he carried himself told me he knew how to use them. Well, he was certainly more intimidating than I was.

I winced. “Point taken. You can come along if you want, just know that I'm not headed there to slaughter the camp. I'm just looking around.”

My response didn't bother him in the slightest, if looks were any indication. “I know, Bonesaw briefed me before I set off after you.” Hmm, looked like I owed Bonesaw twice now. Maybe even three times, depending on how this little jaunt went.

“Did he know? I'll have to have a word with him when we get back.” I started off in the direction of the camp. These delays were getting tiresome; I didn't want to have to travel by night again, especially since it looked to be cross-country again. I looked back. He wasn't following. “Hey, are you coming or not?”

He kind of stared at me for a few seconds, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. “You're not from around here, are you? It's faster to take the roads around here, and you're much less likely to run into something nasty than if you're just walking across the hills.”

Well didn't I feel stupid now. With quiet indignation I trotted back to the road and turned the direction that looked like it would take us closest to the camp, according to my map. Ignoring that little mishap, I tried to strike up a conversation. “So, Bonesaw sent you did he....”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, yes, yes he did. I was worr- I mean he was worried about you getting there and back in one piece. Uhm, no offense.” Now that I apparently wasn't challenging his stallionhood or doing something stupid, it looked like he was getting nervous again. Oh, this was going to be fun!

Footnote: Level Up.
New Perk: Hard Bargain -- Your bartering expertise can save you a lot of caps. You now receive an automatic 5% better prices during any transaction.