"Every person has a price. It's just a matter of enduring them to get to the price." -Richard Nixon

The mare looked at me, then at Alguacil, then to Buddy. Each one of us got a good, long, hard stare from the mare. It was unnerving. She had a way with those soft ruby eyes; there was a hardness—a jaded aspect—to her stare. I really hope this isn't her ‘should I still shoot them or not’ stare. Please, we haven't done anything bad, right? Okay, maybe it is strange. Wait, has no one rebuilt yet? Is that why—

“Alright, come on in. Just the filly and the regulator.” The pegasus paused and pointed her wing at us as she spoke. “Assuming you really are what your duster says you are. Everyone else stay put,” she declared like it was a military order. I started to move when Alguacil's talon stretched out to stop me.

“No, we can talk here, in front of us all.” Alguacil’s sentiment echoed with mistrust thick enough I swore that scissors could cut the tension.

The two guards started raising their rifles to point at us, and just as they got to the point they would aim down the sights, the mare shrugged. “Fine, we can talk here. You wanna explain this to me? From the top?”

“Only if you wanna give us your name first, because we gave you all of ours,” Alguacil shot back.

"My mercs call me Queen Bitch... or Queenie. They KNOW how it vexes me." The grizzled Pegasus sighed and then gave a broad, powerful smile, "My name is Sparrow. And yes, I do live up to that name," as she spoke the pegasus fluttered her wings just enough that she hovered off the ground for a moment, kicking up dust all around us. Then Sparrow settled back down as another flap of her wings threw more soot into the air to intimidate us. “Now, your story would be nice.”

Alguacil started us off, talking about waking up in the pool and giving the location of the raiders. I let out an indignant squeal as he mentioned the pistol exploding. Buddy chimed in about the molerats and raiders, even up to the part where Bronco had committed suicide by magnum. Is that what we were calling it now? Why did it still not feel okay to have executed him? An execution... that is what Alguacil had done. Nyota spoke up about treating Corner's injury and talked about watching me fix up the earth mover.

Finally, as Nyota finished talking about our encounters with Freida Waffles, they all turned to me as if expecting me to reveal some grand tale or provide an ending that brought all their stories together.

I just told them that the instruction book was in the glove box, and from there it was just a matter of mechanical know-how from my dad's garage before the Stables sealed. At this we were made to pause as the mare held up her wing to stop us.

“What do you mean ‘during the war’? You certainly don't look ghoulish to me.” Sparrow stated quite bluntly. She leaned forward and took another examination of me, her eyes rolling over me from snout to tail. Like she was looking for some sort of tell-tale sign of a disease or modifications.

I hesitated and then pulled on my Stable barding collar to show its number, 43. “I was in and out of stasis. Miss Cheerful Chorus had us learn a lot about Equestria with stories when we were out of stasis. It was kind of like school, except I think Stablet-Tec made that her job for us.” I explained as the mare gave us a judgmental frown.

“Stable 43? No one has found that one, at least that I know of. Where was it?” she asked, leaning a bit closer and taking a step towards us. The step looked like a combination of curiosity and re-balancing to spring into action at the same moment.

“North in the mountains above Stalliongrad,” I gave a blithe certainty. I knew where I was from at the very least.

All three of the mercenary sets of eyes went wide, bulging from their sockets a bit at the declaration. They took a few moments to exchange glances with each other and then back to me. Why am I getting all the attention? I'm just a filly who did what her daddy taught her.
“A pre-war filly from a Stable nearly eight hundred miles away, across the northern wastes or over the ocean, wearing Stable-Tec barding no one has seen before, who can fix up a piece of earth moving equipment pre-war?” The pegasus turned to the guard that had called her on the radio and snickered. “Ya know what, Glint Scope, I owe you twenty five caps. You found something above all our pay grades.” Sparrow smacked her lips indignantly and then turned back to the rest of us.

“You found a pre-war little mare, who isn’t a ghoul, and can apparently fix pre-war machines to boot. I don’t know what else to say other than, let them on in.” Sparrow turned to walk away. We all stared at them dumbfounded while they opened up the gates as wide as they would go so we could fit our earth mover inside. There was a long pause as Sparrow stopped at the threshold to go into the town.

“Call Hornsaw, tell him he's got a new patient and to take care of: the filly in the box.” Sparrow turned back around to look at me and her gaze bored into my chest like a dragon ready to strike if I moved wrong. “Sunrise, was it? Pull that piece of equipment inside and park it somewhere. Don't do anything funny with it, we'll have rifles trained you on when it’s moving,” Sparrow stated to us and then gave a salute across her chest with her right wing to the other two guards. “You won't want to end up like them,” she declared, walking away from us and pointing the other wing to the raiders on the wall.

I hadn't noticed it before, but now I saw it clear as day; ponies in barding like what Spring Bronco, improvised different pieces of leather. They were dead and nailed to the wall with spikes, just to make a point! The one that truly got to me, that forced me to look away, was the filly among those bodies. She didn’t even have a cutie mark yet; but there was the corpse of a little filly, so much smaller than me, mounted like a trophy and a warning.

Sparrow is really just that ruthless, note to self don’t cross her if we can ever help it. I felt my stomach lurch as the sickness of looking at those recently deceased forms set in. I am never going to want to eat now, am I? I keep seeing these things as soon as my stomach might think to remind me that food would be nice. I had to focus on moving through the gate with the earth mover. I was the only one trained to drive it. She started back up no issue with just two cranks on the starters then slid forward. I took the directions from the guards who motioned me through the gates. As the control cabin cleared the walls, I saw the town sign, “Welcome to Silver Fang Shanty.”

Nyota took Corners, over to a deep burgundy-coated unicorn, who welcomed the two of them into his operating room. Once I had the digger parked, my tail grabbed the keys, and then Chifundo and Buddy escorted me into the merchant's square as quickly as my legs would move.

Alguacil had disappeared; he’d muttered something about the local regulator office. Meanwhile, Chifundo separated from us to negotiate away the various bits of salvage or looted gear we had gotten off the molerats, raiders, as well as odds and ends we had stumbled into. How and when they had the time to collect so much, I have no idea, but between the two of them we had at least 100 pounds of gear, hides, and meat. EWWW, MEAT! Ponies shouldn't eat that!

Meanwhile, I asked around about anyone who could use the earth mover. Sparrow said we would find someone here, and sure enough, there was a very well dressed traveling merchant whom had been spending a significant amount of caps. CAPS! Really? That was what we used for money now? Were bits so hard to make? Authenticate? I mean didn't we literally have millions of them everywhere? But no, sparkle cola caps—or caps for anything, it seemed, so long as it went on a bottle. I could literally think of a hundred things better to use than caps.

The town looked like something out of a Daring Do movie crossed with a science-fiction novel, where savage looks mixed with high technological bits. There were neon signs powered by horse sized hamster wheels, mixed with metal grabbed from chariots to make houses. Where ponies in primitive clothing, far from the standard stitches and factory outfits I was used to, negotiated for goods and services. It was like one massive fair trade day, except it was the normal everyday routine. No one seemed to think it was weird, though, as they moved from stall to stall, and from shouting merchant to shouting merchant. Prices were haggled, deals were hammered out. There was that even an auction over a jar of Zap Apple Jam! I walked through the market in amazement, hardly aware of Chifundo just powering ahead, eager to sell off all the stuff we have gotten in the half-finished Stable. But I paused as a thought struck me: Had we been looting?

As Chifundo approached and called out to a zebra wearing a fine checked suit, we got a surprise. His cloak and barding had obscured his skin from us until he turned and we could see the rotting flesh of a ghoul. He drew up like a proper Canterlot socialite or noble and his cloak mixed with the clean checkered suit framed his form like they were tailor-made. He may have the flourish of a gentle-stallion but with the mixture of ghoul flesh it was just a gross illusion. This one repulsed and caused my stomach to resume its backflips as I realized how twisted the world had become.The shriveled up flesh didn't match the zebra stripes on him at all. He, unlike Waffles, still somehow had much of his coat, at least the parts of him that were not covered in clothing. From the way he moved and his body flexed, I suspected his barding concealed a lot, and had been padded in places in order to hide where he lacked flesh, muscle, and fat. The smile from him was off-putting. There was a mixture of genuinely being welcome He looked at Chifundo and stomped up to him with a swagger practiced that looked straight out of canterlot from before the stable to me, “Well hello there, what a cutie!”

He joined Chifundo and moved spoke just outside of earshot. Buddy and I looked on, until a pink-striped hoof pointed in my direction. I approached and blushed a bit as the wealthy ghoul zebra and Chifundo watched me intently. Chifundo gestured for me to hurry up, and I broke into a light trot forward."Sunrise is the one who made the machine purr, the credit all must go to her." There was a hint of a prideful tone towards me, which only served to make the white blush flare to burn harder against my cheeks. I saw a reflection in the metal shop stand near me, to see my cheeks had blushed white.

“Hi... I... I'm Wandering Sunrise, I am the one who fixed up the earth mover.” I felt so self conscious under the gaze of this zebra.

Buddy nudged me towards him with a paw pressed onto my flank, “Go on littl’ darl’ng, yall should talk to da zebra ‘ere. I’ll go git us some supplies.”

I sure that Chifundo acting like a parent wasn't helping. The way the noble ghoul looked at me made me feel like I was being sized up for more than just a mechanic. He was looking at me, not in the sense of looking at me with his eyes so much as with desire. It was so strange to realize I was being checked out by a stallion and a stranger; I felt vulnerable and it made my skin crawl coming from something that resembled a wasteland monster. I felt like I had to keep my guard up and be prepared to strike him at any moment.

“Well the cuteness continues to adorn me today!” the stallion zebra replied. “I'm the Curator, or Mr. Curator. And you are just adorable!”

Okay, something about this Zebra creeps me right out! But, if he will take that earth mover off us, good. It means we won't attract attention from everything, especially the creatures that have tried to kill us.

“But you will attract attention of a different sort!”

“That big, rusted, but rather cheerily painted yellow machine is what you are talking about, right?” He took a pause and wiggled his eyebrows at me. “I haven't seen a Sand Dog 3500 moving in nearly two hundred years, I think. That is one very magnificent masterpiece of Spell Matrix Engineering that I sincerely miss hearing rumbling near a building foundation in progress. The Society would be most interested in such a vehicle, and it would be lovely in my collection. Especially when I tell them such a beautiful looking mare-in-waiting had been the one to fix it up.”

Adorable and cute I could handle, I was used to those, but the other flattering words were something different. I felt a sheepish blush at being called beautiful or a mare-in-waiting. He wasn't doing this in the way you would expect an adult stallion to do to a filly, no, this was flirting. WAIT! I'm being flirted with? By a Ghoul? A rich Ghoul that is probably way older than me, not counting years in stasis. Chifundo, I swear, this had better be worth it. I gave Chifundo a harsh look, the harshest look I could give when I had turned nearly sunburst white in my blushing cheeks.

“Now, do you think you can show me how to operate it? And can I get a test drive in exchange for, say, fifty caps?” He leered intently at me with lecherously flirty eyes. I had no idea, so I looked to Chifundo and motioned my hoof to defer to him. Anything to get Curator's attention off my form.

Chifundo looked at me, “You had best show him the ropes, otherwise, without help, he’ll have no hope.” Chifundo replied. I nodded like a shy breezy and then hoped the subject could be changed to something besides me.

“Well then, filly! Come on, let's talk about that SD 3500. How does she handle? What all work did you have to do to her?” He turned all business as I escorted him over to the SD 3500. Chifundo never strayed more than a few feet away from me.The following barrage of questions caught me way off guard. “How are the road wheels on her doing?”

“I mean, they’re rusted, but I managed to get them to move, and the tracks are lined up still,” I replied with a nervous smile.

“And her body? Dents, or firm and pristine like yours?” The ghoul wiggled his eyebrows at me suggestively. I felt a burning in my cheeks again and saw the reflection that looked like my original white completion in the rear view mirror. Deal with it later, just get through this.

“I... um... well... I mean as good as you could expect for 180 years.” It wasn't just the questions but how he was asking.

“And how does she handle? Like an old gentle stallion or like the bouncy little spring filly you are?” his flank brushed against my side, right where the barding ended, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I was so thankful when we got to the ramp up to the operator's cabin.

I started doing some basic movements, showing him that all the gears worked in the transmission, as well as that the bucket worked by scooping up a patch of dirt, then unloading it and flattening the road back out. A mare came out of a nearby shop, shouting about me tearing up part of the 'road', and my only thought was to lean out of the cabin and shout, “I'm sorry!” to her. Oh dear Goddesses Sunrise! You are showing Curator right up your rear. My tail shot down and covered my flanks as much as it could, which enticed a half-hearted sigh of disappointment from Curator.

The way this Zebra keeps looking at me, I think I would rather have the guards training rifles in my direction as opposed to those 'Come here, let me ‘show’ you a stallion’s fun'. It's almost over; he'll make an offer, and hopefully you will be rid of this creep! Just bare with it Sunrise.

Finally—THANKFULLY!—we dismounted and trotted just clear of the SD 3500. This reminded me of something my mother had said as I stared off into space.

“Sunrise, hun. We should talk,” called out Shadow Window. I sighed, as I knew every time I heard those words, in that tone, something was about to dropped onto my head that would haunt my dreams for the next two weeks. I trotted up the stairs, out of the utility room where I had been reading my dad's Gear and Bolts, the latest issue. I didn't care that I was covered in grime, grease, and a bit of paint.

“SUNRISE! Wandering Sunrise!” My mother burst into a fit as she rushed over with a rag and started to try to get some of the mess off my cheek and neck. She tossed the rag at my face with a disappointed snort. “I swear, you are never going to get a stallion to like you if you keep ending up covered in your father's work.”
I grabbed the rag in a hoof and rubbed it over my face; at least it was warm, wet, and a bit soapy. Great, a dish rag literally right out of the sink. “Maybe I don't want a stallion,” I replied, muffled through the cloth.

“What was that, young lady!? Do you really think there is a mare that would you take you, either?” My mother scoffed lightly, and then regretted it almost immediately. With a soft exhale she started up again. “Which is what I wanted to talk to you about.” Now she had gone from scolding to quite the serious tone. “Sunrise, dear, we need to talk about Hearts and Hooves.”

I kept the rag on my face to hide my ruby red blush. How I had ended up with my coat color and mane was beyond me. My tail was the same as dad's, orange with white stripes. My mane we could explain away as a mixture of mom's amber one and dad's orange forming a red. But dad was a very brilliant gold and mom was black as the night. My coat ended up pearl white. Which meant bath time was always extra long! You ever try to get black grease out of white horse hair?

“Mom, do we have to go over this again? I haven't had any of the colts flirting with me yet. My distinct lack of a cutie mark sees to that,” I said as I felt the burning of the blush fading away and lowered the rag slowly. I could hear the ringing cries of 'Blank Flank!' echoing through my mind. I said a prayer to the Goddesses for anything to bail me out.

The front door slammed and I could hear the hoofbeats of my father; they were heavy and he was shouting, “I swear! She has got to be kidding! They have worked for me for years! I refuse—” Oh, thank you so much, Celestia, or Luna; whichever one of you.

“Rainbowrise, hun, calm down. What is going on?” Window asked as our conversation abruptly ended and she trotted over to him. She placed a hoof on his shoulder and looked rather concerned as her midnight black seemed to weave into his golden beige. The two looked like opposites that were meant to be together. And here I was, their only daughter, a grease-stained, too-old-to-be-a-blank-flank filly.

“The Ministry of Wartime Technology is what is going on! Who does that mare think she is? She wants me to fire Perileth and Netherbloom. Also, Zancha; I just hired him!” he stomped his hoof hard enough that the floor shook with his frustration, he left one slightly cracked tile where he’d struck. “I've worked with Perileth since he came to Equestria, before the war. But, if I am to be a part of this special project, they all have to go.

“How do they get off thinking that every zebra is a spy? And just who does Applejack think she is? I don't care if you're a ministry mare, you aren't going to make friends if you keep giving them nowhere else to turn to!” As my father spoke, his voice got harsher, louder, and angrier with every single word, until it came to a crescendo that shook that windows. He stomped his hoof harder and shattered a tile in the kitchen. A piece of the ceramic clattered off a window and into the sink with a distinct ring.

I hung my head and let out a whimper. Please don't fight, not right now. I had stuck up for the two Zebras earlier, and even felt it was right to do so, I didn't want to see them suffer. Who had come into dad's work and made him so upset? Maybe I could talk some sense into them, blank flank and all! “Dad! COOL IT!” I shouted, more of a whine than a shout, but still it got the point across.

My two parents looked at me, shocked and wide-eyed. I'd never yelled at them. I don't think they had ever even heard me yell. I looked up to see my mom's violet eyes and the harsher rose colored eyes of my father staring right at me, both of their jaws slacked to the floor. “Who told you that you had to get rid of them?”I demanded at my parents, standing up high as my legs would allow me.

“That Ministry Mare, Applejack. Said that I had to, since they want to use my shop to help with some secret project called Dead Tree,” he replied with a bitter note. I looked at him and tilted my head quite a bit, till you would think a crick should form in my neck.

“Dead Tree? What would someone want with a Dead Tree?” I asked quite bluntly. Suddenly, I felt like a pair of eyes were staring right at me.

“I can't tell you, sweetie. I have to keep that part a secret.” He looked away from me, like he was ashamed to face his daughter. “Yeah, I suppose... without a choice, I'm going to have to fire those three tomorrow. Hopefully I can give them some extra pay or something to make sure they will be okay till they get new jobs. The Ministry of Wartime Technology has promised to give me compensation and to get new employees in less than a week,” he replied with a resigned sigh and hanging of his head. I could see the shame in his eyes and on his facial features, hidden behind his frown.

“I'm sorry to ruin your night, you two. I'll let you carry on with your conversation. I need to go write up the statements for the ministry to look over and make sure they can see all my financial statements for the last six years for tomorrow,” my dad said as he started to leave the kitchen.

“Hun! Stay, we need to give her the talk!” Shadow Window called to him as he slowly made his way out.

He only turned his head and shook it, “When she gets her cutie mark, is what I told you to wait for. We'll have to give her the Hearts and Hooves talk later. If I don't make arrangements, I may not have a business tomorrow unless I work with the ministry.” His avoidance of my budding maturity was a bit scary, but he was right; I didn't even have my cutie mark yet. Mares and Stallions alike were beyond me when it came to flirting. It was nice that I had friends now at school, even if I still got picked on about my missing cutie mark. I was the oldest filly to not have my special talent yet. Why was that?

“Fine, Rainbowrise, but before the end of July we are going to talk to her about Hearts and Hooves!” my mother declared, and followed my dad out of the kitchen. From the sounds of it, I was on my own for the rest of the night, dinner included. At least I got away with all the daisy sandwiches I wanted, right?

I heard another voice join my parents, someone I didn't hear come in the front door, as I started upstairs to eat. “You did well, Rainbowrise, and you won't regret this. You can even rehire them after the war.”

Mr. Curator was lost in thought as my head came back out of the clouds. I had showed him all the controls, but my mind was on autopilot, stuck in my own memories as I tried to avoid his gaze and how he looked at me. Finally I dismounted, and he started talking to Chifundo again. Even with Chifundo, the Curator was quite touchy-feely, and then I heard words that filled me with pride.

“Well, she runs smooth. It drove all the way here from the quarry. The spark-battery is good. And that little filly sure knew her way around it. Not to mention I'd be the only one in the Society to have a fully working Sand Dog 3500. How does 6000 caps strike you?” He said. Buddy was approaching us and stopped dead in his tracks, his heavy paws dropping into the ground with two thuds. I turned my attention behind me to him and Chifundo standing beside each other with mirrored jaw drops. Judging by the expressions on Chifundo and Buddy's faces—must be a huge amount.

“Is that a lot?” I asked them curiously, as I shifted to looking at my two friends then the Curator and then back.

Buddy looked down with a snaggle-tooth grin. “Darling, th're just 'bout nothing we can't buy with that many caps. At least we could get better equipment and everythang.”

I felt my tail poking at my cheek again, and looked to see it held the keys and the instruction manual for the machine. I took them into my mouth and walked up with both the heavy, two hundred page book, as well as the keys.

“Wait! You have the instruction manual, too?” Mr. Curator said, and I thought for a moment his ghoulified stripes might actually fall off him.

I put down the keys and book at his hooves and looked back up at him. “Yeah, I read the whole thing to make sure I knew how to operate it, and then when I wasn't sure on something, I'd open it for reference on the way here,” my sheepish expression could not be hidden, and I felt the burn of blushing return. You just learned how to operate a bucket crane in only a few hours. You realize that couldn't all be from dad's wrecker, right? “It survived, sealed away in the glove box.”

“By the stars themselves. They seem to have made this day a quite glorious one! Chifundo, I will offer you another 600 caps since you've got the book. I'm sure the Society, Collegiate, or Eggheads will appreciate exactly what I have here, and will want to study it.” Mr. Curator declared with gusto, and thrust two bags of caps out of his saddlebags into Chifundo's hooves before he could say anything else.

I felt a sense of pride come over me, knowing that somehow all this had been by my hoof, when I felt a poke of Mr. Curator's hoof against my shoulder. I looked up and didn't care if he was a ghoul who kept flirting with me; the little filly inside would not be contained as I leaped up and wrapped my hooves around his neck.

“Oh! Here I thought you might not like me,” Mr. Curator replied as I Squishily! hugged his neck. Chifundo joined in the hug as well after a moment, much to the Curator's delight. Extra Squishy!

Oh dear, I'm not sure how I feel about this. It's like hugging a stuffed animal made of flesh and filled with jello, instead of feathers or cotton.

“Nyota! So good of you to join us. Are these your friends?” Mr. Curator cheerily shouted out as he extended a hoof. I didn't look back, seeing as I was still somewhere between realizing that ghouls smelled bad and Chifundo needed a bath. “Come on now, you know you wanna join in,” the zebra noble encouraged him as I let go of his neck and got back down onto all four hooves.

Note to self, never hug a ghoul unless you really mean it. At least that is what my stomach was now saying.

“Hello, Curator. Hooves to yourself and where I can see them,” Nyota responded with a look of disdain. He sounded completely hostile to Curator and it was the strongest emotion he had expressed yet, pure anger.

“Oh, why do you have to be like that? Surely you and your friends—wait a moment. Have you made friends? Are these your friends, Nyota?” His tone grew lighter and more friendly, with a sense of surprise that bordered on fanaticism for something wonderful about to happen. The raspy baritone voice seemed like something that would come out of a cartoon.

“Traveling companions. I have traveling companions; five of them.” Nyota said and then looked at me as I lowered my head, realizing I might not ever hear him call any of us friend. “Four of them, and one friend, I suppose.”

Wait, did people have to shoot you for you to call them friends? Did the 'I'm a little foal all short and sad face' actually win you over? Am I even allowed to say I have that face anymore?

My thoughts were interrupted by Nyota’s next declaration, “I would appreciate it if they were unmolested, as well.”

“You wound me, good sir! I may have quite the hedonistic streak, but I have never done anything anyone did not willingly say yes to! Besides,” Mr. Curator gave a sly smile, “I just bought your Sand Dog 3500. Do show some respect; I might go back on my transaction.” The amount of indignation in his voice told me that there was something there, even worse than the night the Ministry of Wartime Technology showed up at Dad's work.

“Oh, my apologies are given. Now, if your business is done, I'd like my friends and I to go take care of Corners' bill.” Nyota appeared to be quite forceful about what he had to say at this point. He yanked us all away from Mr. Curator and gave a snort to dismiss him. Curator took a dejected look and raised his nose in response, walking towards his new trophy. The ghoul noble mounted up into the operator's nest and started the SD 3500, pulling away from us with a slow rolling of the heavy treads as he left town.

Alguacil landed next to us as the machine rolled to the gates. “Come with me, we have to report to the regulator's office for a bit.”

When we arrived it was more a tent reinforced with metal plating less as structure and more as armor. There was just a sign above the entry flap that wasn’t even straight, ‘Regulators’ and a five pointed star crudely drawn next to it.

Inside was full sized unicorn mare in an old police uniform for ponyville. She wore a wide brim hat like Buddy’s but unlike his, her’s had armor plating on it. She got up from her seat behind a long bar with wanted posters dotting a makeshift wooden board behind her. “So I hear tell yall killed a sentry bot? Alright I just need statements from everypony here to, wait, this little mare did it?”

I stepped up and nodded, “Yes, I did. I threw a full brick of dynamite at it and then my friends here put enough fire into the broken plating that it self-destructed.” I’m still unsure if it was the way I stated it or the fact it came from my high pitched voice but the mare shrugged and held up a hoof.

“Okay ya know what? If that little filly says it happened, I don’t care. I’ll get your caps so long as the dangerous lot of you agree to cause no trouble. That sound fair?” She stated and walked behind the wooden board into a flap that was located separating off the two segments of the tent. Alguacil crossed his talons like they were quite satisfied with that answer. The rest of us left, heading out back to the market bazaar.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Our hard earned caps were spent re-equipping all of us with armor, weapons, supplies and other necessities for the road. All of our things got repairs, my duster got armored up with metal plating, and I got some sparkle cola. Alguacil found that none of the weapons would fit me properly so we just had to use what I already had. I found myself outside of the gunsmith, two hours later, waiting for him to finish working on a customized weapon. Considering I was now holding 12G rounds instead of 20G, the size of them scared me a bit.

I stayed at the gunsmith while my shotgun was being worked on, and was left alone with my thoughts. My first day out of the stable I could remember, and according to my PipBuck, I could remember my eighth, as well. Which means I was missing a week of my life. A week? I was missing 181 years. All that time in stasis, what had I been doing? Who had been taking care of us while we slept? Had the scientists traded knowledge for generations from one to the next, all trained by Stable-Tec to continue their work while we were sleeping? Had I really slept that long, in a seemingly endless dream?

Could that be where that memory about my shotgun came from? What had Stable-Tec done to me? I mean, there are obvious changes; my coat was pearl white when I went into the stable. What had they done to my parents? They separated us when we went in, those scientists put me with the rest of the blank flanks. I checked my flank where the exploding power armored pony was emblazoned on me, permanently. Where and when had I gotten my cutie mark? Why was it so violent?

Had I become a violent pony and didn't know it? I held onto that thought for a while, clinging to it as I mulled over all my actions since I woke up. Everything added up to one answer right now: No. Yes, I shot my friend by accident. But something is deeply wrong in Equestria. I knew these weren't memories, nor was I in stasis anymore. The thoughts of my escape rushed back and I felt like I was fighting for control to not drift off into a memory orb. I wanted to go back to that stable escape, but it felt like putting on a recollector and losing touch with reality altogether. I stomped my hoof on my tail to inflict just enough pain to keep me here in the present.

No, this is very real. There were so many pieces of the puzzle missing, and some of them looked like they were buried on my PipBuck. Where do I go from here? I kept processing my thoughts as the gunsmith walked outside to where I had taken a seat on his welcome mat and brushed my shoulder with his hoof.

“Hey there, little filly. Here ya go, should work just fine now, if you can handle the extra kick.” The old, gray-maned stallion passed a heavy version of my shotgun into my hooves. I looked it over: the barrel was bigger, and the hammer was sturdier. He also had added some extra padding to the stock.

A voice that wasn’t my own came into my head, “Oh yay! The Angel with a Shotgun has returned, good! Can’t wait to see where this leads.” There was a short pause as I searched frantically for the source of the voice. “At least where it leads, THIS TIME!” It was playful, like a child wanting to invite you to the playground.

I looked around searching for who had said that, I thought I saw a figure, a very pink pony in my vision. But it had vanished behind a corner before I could get a good look. My eyes wandered around now, looking from shanty building to building. Everything here looked like it had been constructed out of scrap, random bits of wood, or what used to be vehicles and houses before the war.

I got up and started to draw, adding something to the side of the gunsmith's shop. A rainbow sunrise in chalk. Then I took a moment and drew just what I had heard the pink figure call me; a pony with a halo and wings, dressed in white robes, holding a shotgun in its hooves.

Once I was done, I took some gunpowder from the ammo bench nearby and a bit of glue to put on it, sealing the chalk against the weather. The gunpowder acted to accelerate the glue and seal it before any dust or dirt could get in. The pristine picture shined and declared, “I was here” to the world. I don't know why I did it, or why I decided that was what I would leave behind, but I had a whole lot more questions than answers, and a group of friends waiting for me at the inn.

Fan Artwork for the Chapter - Box Pone in her Natural Habitat

Level Progression to 98%
New Trait Discovered: Random - Your life is random. Events happen with little explanation and with little predictability. Roll with the punches or die under the wave; your choice.

Author's Notes:

First off thanks to Kkat for creating Fallout: Equestria and letting the Project Dead Tree guys compile edit and make the full version of the Fallout: Equestria into a Pen and Paper game we can all play.

Second thanks to the Project Dead Tree guys for making the game and running it for me on Wednesday nights for the live stream.

Third, thanks to Hitomi for the edits turning this into something at least readable and more fun for us all.

Fourth thanks to our Artist for Images Imbedded: Glacier Frostclaw
https://ankokufang.deviantart.com/