I like stories.

No, I love stories. I love the daring knights who rescue the prince, I love the dragon slaying pegasi, I love the endless adventure. I love reading about places that only exist in my wildest dreams. I love watching children act out their favourite scenes from Daring Do or Sword Mare. I love telling stories too, tales I’ve gained from the years in the wasteland and those from my days long before.

All stories begin with a grand event. The big moment when everything changes. Where somepony is thrust into a terrible situation, and struggles before triumphantly succeeding. Twists and turns, friendships and rivalries, love and hate. Everything coming together in the perfect happy ending we want. In a way, my story begins with something like that.

It started with a bad coffee.

Coffee is a wonderful invention, second only to the comic book. It is liquid awareness, it is the flavour of awake, it is glorious. I first discovered coffee while interning at The Sun, a rather lowbrow newspaper from Canterlot. Not the greatest paper in Equestria, but one that was happy to take on a newly minted investigative journalist. Pulling all-nighters was standard there, but it was all in the name of entertainment and news. The same applied to my second job, one which involved a more intensive kind of investigation.

And significantly more birthday parties.

After a decent night at Hoofbeats, involving a great deal of pegasus made whiskey, I managed to roll out of bed at the impressive time of seven AM. Not bad for three hours sleep. Quick tab of Mint-als and some caffeine would set me straight, it always had before. I stumbled into the morning light, hunting for a source of black salvation.

Most of the local coffee shops in Manehatten had closed a few months before, the owners being lucky enough to get a Stable ticket. Of all the decisions Stable-Tech made, taking away the one source of morning joy for Manehatten was the strangest. Still, whatever their reasons were, I was far more focused on finding that sweet caffeinated goodness. Yes, sugar belongs in coffee. Sue me.

It eventually came in the form of yesterday’s pot heated up, after I arrived at the office. You’d think that ponies working for one of the Ministries would be smart enough to ditch the dregs at the of the day. I thanked the passing techie for helping me out, and grimaced at the horror in a cup.

“Things we do for Equestria,” I grumbled. It was a short walk to Team Frosting’s office, especially if you took a shortcut through the bakery. The mares there made sugar taste like salt, all bright smiles and songs. I gave them a gallant wave, coffee carefully held in a special cup holder harness. ‘Specially designed for the pony on the go’, one of the few things Starbucked actually got right. Well, that and the Steamed Coffee ad. I managed to swipe a spare box of donuts, grinning at the half-disappointed looks from the bakers.

Chaos had spent the night at the office. Goliath had dosed off at his desk again, the mountain of pony sat with his head against a terminal. Notes and forms had covered the floor like winter had come early. I sighed at the sight, shrugging off the coffee holder and taking a sip. Bitter and lukewarm, just the way I hate it. The flavour was improved with a raspberry jam donut.

Carefully stepping over the more important files, I reached the biggest desk in the office. A mess of golden mane and a soft yellow coat splayed on the desk, snoring peacefully. I gave Golden Days a prod before the drool could pool any further. In a flurry of hooves, she whipped around in a pose I’m certain was from a film. Something about zebra martial arts.

“What, who, now, when?!”

“And a fine morning to you too,” I offered a donut from my back. Perks of an earth pony, perfect balance.

I felt the box’s weight leave my back, “You’re late, Hard.”

“Well, it took me a good while to find this rare delicacy. Thought it would prove vital to my work production.” I slammed the window shut after sending lukewarm coffee out for a short flight. “Of course, we wouldn’t have this problem if somepony hadn’t stopped the deal with Donut Joe’s chain.”

Golden coughed as she choked on donut crumbs, thumping her chest, “Still, you’re expected on duty today.”

“Who’s birthday?” I rolled my neck, sorting out a crick. I settled down behind my terminal, watching the balloon animation slowly fill, burst, and repeat. My head poked out when the reply took longer than normal.

“It’s a party.” Golden looked up, serious mode engaged.

“Huh. Who’re the guests?” I tapped open my mail, nothing new to report today.

“Yourself and Hope, Gadget on Sprites. Plus every other hit team,” she gave a sombre look. “This is the big one, I mean the big one.”

There was a lump in my throat. I swallowed hard, but it did nothing to alleviate the feeling. I left my desk, moving back to Golden’s.

“How big?”

“A dozen Rangers.”

“Seven circles! Who are we hitting?” I knew the answer, how could I not? Part of me hoped it wasn’t the case.

She didn’t need to answer, not verbally. An eye flicked to our investigation map, a spider’s web of strings, pins, and photos. It was the project we didn’t want to continue, the one we hoped and prayed it wasn’t the case. Smuggling contraband was one thing, most ponies got a stern talking to and a confiscation of all zebra goods. Zebra sympathisers were investigated, but most of the time it was a job for the Ministry of Peace. This group was rotten to the core, and the worst part was we didn’t know what they were planning.

How deep did it go? We had hundreds, if not thousands, of suspects and collaborators. All of them tied to one company and one family in particular. Memory extractions had helped a great deal with pointing hooves, but the physical evidence was near impossible to trace. We could make low level ponies disappear, sure, but something on this scale couldn’t be done without the whole of Equestria knowing.

Golden set the donut down, moving with precision and poise. Completely unlike my boss. I knew that it was big. For her to lose the smile, the mirth, the joy that kept the team together, this was the big one indeed. A yellow hoof reached my side, becoming an affectionate pet.

“You’re expected for a debrief in hanger two. You’ve got ten minutes or so. Sober up, Hard Copy. Good luck.”

Golden left me to my cold coffee, which I forced down. Of all the days to drink myself to a stupor, today was possibly the worst. A few slaps to the face, and I felt a little more alive. Guess it was time to get the game face on.

“I just renewed a month’s pass as well.”

The first shot winged me, the second hit my side. My suit’s armour held fast and turned a kill-shot into a whopping bruise. The third punched a neat hole in the chair I was hiding behind, thankfully missing me. Quick check for any bleeding, and I exhaled a sigh of relief. I could kiss the mare who weaved my Ministry suit. If it were a stallion, then a firm hoofshake would have to do.

Intel was way off; these guys were equipped far better than they should’ve been. They should only have civilian grade pistols, pea shooters at best. Then one of those bastards pulled a freaking combat shotgun from beneath the desk. I poked my head over, only to lose a few hairs and years from my life. If the bullets didn’t get me, the stress on my poor heart would. Today was a really bad day to not be a unicorn.

Salvation came from the click-whir-brrt of a minigun opening up. Standing as solid as a mountain, Corporal Dandy sprayed hot lead in slow, methodical movements across the desk. A decent spray of blood shot up, coating the smug president’s portrait. What I assumed to be wooden desk began to spark as bullets pinged off, harmlessly.

“Armour. They were expecting us,” the Steel Ranger muttered, his voice carried to the team via earbuds. His armour had shrugged over the initial small arms fire from our dynamic entrance, Hope and I used him as mobile armour as we sped to our places.

“As if the weaponry and less than stellar welcome wasn’t a dead giveaway!” I shot back, hefting a stun grenade over the barricade.

There was a sharp “OH FUCK!”

It was followed by a loud bang.

A mare screamed as she stood up from behind cover, staggering around in a daze. Looked like she had drunk one too many. She pawed at her eyes, a small trickle of blood from a ruptured eardrum staining a gorgeous office dress. She managed a yelp as she was tackled to the ground, her protesting groans followed by the clack of hoof-cuffs.

Hope flashed a smile as she stood up, dragging the traitor to her hooves. She passed the unfortunate captive to another agent, part of Cupcake Team. The stallion guided the blinded and dazed mare out of the building. Ministry of Peace agents would be waiting to bring her to an interrogatable state.

I took the opportunity to swig a little from a healing potion, feeling my eardrums pop back into perfect health. After the exchange, the room was unnervingly silent. The entrance hall didn’t put up a great deal of resistance, four guards with two more office workers hiding behind the desk. I felt a wave of relief wash over me as the turrets, which were supposed to activate upon the press of panic button, had been disabled. As the bodies were carried out, I pointed at our glorious entry vehicles.

“Did she have to go with hot-air balloons?” I groaned, not for the first time today.

“Could’ve been worse, remember the schematics job? Effective use of the party cannon, but I had confetti in my feathers for weeks after that,” Hope settled down next to me, carefully reloading her pistol.

She took a moment to straighten out her standard issue blazer and shirt combo, green tie to pair with her mint coloured coat. A quick flick of her toothpaste streaked mane, followed with a smile dentists would kill for. The kind that outshone the sun.

“Hey, you had the choice to get in that thing. Some of us didn’t get an option,” I snorted, checking for any further damage. Flanks were still bright orange, and proudly displaying the greatest cutie mark in Equestria: a magnifying glass and a quill, forming a neat ‘X’.

My suit matched Hope’s, white undershirt with a red tie to pair with my mane, only with the added bonus of a waistcoat. Specially crafted ballistic armour, hoof weaved into the fabric. I always dress to impress. After checking the bruise, I moved on to double check any other spots I may been hit. The investigation led me from my leg on to Hopes, moving up to her face. I earned a bop on the nose for my trouble. She earned a grin.

“Later. We’re a team, ponies of a feather fly together. Besides, what’s the point to working with the party pony if you can’t have a laugh?” And there was that look, could melt my heart in seconds. The warmest gaze in Equestria, with eyes like nothing else. Not all the streamers or parties in Equestria could make me happier.

There was a polite, if somewhat robotic, cough. The patter of four wings chopped into the moment, holding an orb the size of a pony’s head aloft. The spritebot bobbed, the grills staring at us intently. It hadn’t twigged that we had been sat and staring into each other’s eyes for a little too long.

“If ye tois ur finished, we hae wark tae dae,” Gadget drawled, the speakers popping as she fought over the airways, “Ah dornt hink these bastards ur keen oan lettin' ye cosy up in th' middle ay their lobby.”

The bot popped back into inspirational music, accompanied by our boss’ recording, “All civilians please clear the area! My friends and I are after the bad ponies, and I really, really, really don’t want you to get hurt!”

“Better that than March of the Damned Parasprites again,” Dandy grumbled, kicking a reload in, “Are you ready, Agent?”

I gave a nod, setting my gun back in my mouth, “Af file effabee.”

We took off towards the next objective. One of the board of directors was in this building, and had two Rangers on her tail. If the entrance was the prelude, then we needed every bit of help we could get. The two ahead would have the lion’s share of the battle, acting as a distraction while we worked through the back as clean up and arrest.

The stairwell was free of any traps, but Dandy took the lead in preparation for any other nasty surprises. His armour left great cracks in the concrete stairs, a testament to the sheer weight and power the Ranger commanded. Gadget, commanding another spritebot, floated behind as a mobile lookout.

The next office held some resistance. Two sympathisers were hiding behind a set of filing cabinets and let loose a wall of lead as we kicked the door down. Hope and I skidded into cover as Dandy took a chest-full of shot. I knew his armour would hold, though I heard the hard exhale as the shock hit him.

On the other hoof, they had opened fire first. That gave Dandy all the permission he needed to send uncountable shots in return. I waited for his burst fire to end before peeking from cover. Two perforated pastel ponies in a pool of blood. I didn’t even hear the screams over the din of gunfire. What was Equestria coming to?

“You two ok?” Dandy asked, a slight edge to his voice.

Hope vaulted her cover, checking corners. “All fine here, Hard?”

“Peachy, time to press DANDY!” I saw the blood starting to leak from the gaps in the armour. The spell matrix began to knit the armour back together, but that didn’t mean much to what was going on inside.

“I’m fine. Nothing needs immediate attention. Continue with the mission,” his speech was slurring slightly, “Painkillers are kicking in, Buck to help with the healing. We need to be quick.”

Hope nodded, looking grim. A grunt escaped I stood up, now we were racing against two clocks. I wanted to know who gave them armour piercing rounds, or how they were stolen. This was more than foresight against agents, they knew Rangers would be on the way as well. Part of me knew the answer, but that could only be confirmed when we took down this whole building.

We sped through the floor, ignoring the masses of terminals. What I wanted to know was hidden away on one of those things, but it would all have to wait. Making the arrest and cutting off this infection in Equestria mattered far more. It looked like the big wigs called most of the staff away for the main event at Grand Central. Cowards hiding behind a mass of bodies, it fit the motives of the company. They dug themselves in deep to prevent anyone from smoking them out.

I wondered how the Dumpling and Tart teams were doing, even with the bulk of the Ranger support. They had the fun job over at Grand Central, taking on the meat of the traitor’s forces. We had heard nothing from them, which Gadget assured me was good news. The reports of the traitors’ vehicles moving something into the middle of city did trouble me somewhat, but the mission at hoof needed all my focus. I stayed hopeful, we had called in Shadowbolts to take care of clean-up. Only a disaster would call them away.

I pushed the thoughts to one side. We had our best on the job, there was no way these traitors would get away with their plans. Game face on, we raced towards the target.

Top floor. Only a few sporadic gunfights had taken place on the way up. We had three more prisoners, and six corpses. There were only so many times a Ranger can order you to put down your weapons before you return fire. I only lamented our lack of non-lethal options. There were unicorn teams with anaesthesia and stun spells, but they were reserved for the wounded. Additionally, it was clear that none of these ponies would be coming quietly. If we brought tazers, we wouldn’t have made it through the front door.

We only had to worry about Dandy’s wound at the time, the Ministry suits and better mobility keeping Hope and me out of harm’s way. Potions kept Dandy going, but it was hard to ignore the laboured breathing. Enough to drink to stop the bleeding, but not enough to heal over the shot. To that end, we were using Gadget’s Spritehopping to scout out corners. We could deal with one less Spritebot. We were needed in top condition.

Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for the other Rangers. We had found them outside the sixth floor office. One had taken a buckshot to the head, almost losing it in the process. The corpse had been kept upright from the weight of the armour. The other Ranger had been hit by armour piercing rounds. From the smell, the rounds were enchanted and had cooked her alive. I could see her from where I was sitting, her body lying one side like she had fallen asleep.

Another plink of sparks brought me to back to the world. Spacing out in the middle of a firefight, it takes a great deal of talent to manage that. I shook the smell of cooked meat out of my nose, snorting away the memory. Gazing over the desk, I ducked back as another shot snapped past my head. The terminal above me burst in a display of sparks, broken glass and important looking electronics scattered into the ground. Nice to know that despite everything, a bullet could still stop Stable-Tech’s designs.

“You know, that could have had evidence to lessen your sentence!” I shouted back, angry that I was pinned down again. “You’re making this very difficult to arrest you!”

Dandy had been forced into cover. One of our targets used a strange rifle, firing in consistent three-shot bursts. The shots went through metal like it was paper, bringing my concern level from “Gadget has found gin” to “Goliath has found out that Gadget has gin”. The wall offered no protection beyond disguising where he was, but we had lucked out that spray-and-pray wasn’t a tactic. Either the bullets were in short supply, or somepony really messed up with the design of the rifle.

Regular shots, on the other hoof, were bit a dozen. A few more shots pinged off the desk, the reinforcement letting me live without a fancy new hole. I poked my head over and fired twice, trying to stem the oncoming storm. Help came in the form of a stun grenade, flying in a wonderful arc over the office cubicles. Hope threw a second as a chaser, before she dived back into cover. The grenade let loose a fury of light and sound, sending several shots loose. The second sent the directed fire into a curtain of random lead.

A few managed to find my desk, two shots going through the wooden panelling. The third hit something on the way through, sending a strange smell into the air. I blinked, wrinkling my nose in disgust. I knew this smell, the same strange haze that burns the tastebuds off your tongue.

“DASH!” I sneezed, my body trying to force the cloud away. It was too late.

Time slowed to a crawl, my hyper-aware mind letting me take in all the insanity of the battle. A Gadget controlled Spritebot became a small fireball, the metal shrinking around the explosion. A new hole appeared in the wall behind me, the bullet too fast to see but slow enough to predict. I took a long breath to calm my nerves, but it was likely no bigger than any other I’d take before. I never wanted to be in this state again, experiencing the world at a maddening pace that floated all my worries away.

It just added to the list of crimes on their record. Evidence of drug smuggling, for shame.

The screams from the other side gave me the all clear, and I vaulted my cover. With my mind racing at twice the speed it normally was, it gave me time to soak in the surroundings. The office was torn to shreds from the exchange of gunfire. Memos and motivational posters had scattered around the floor. By some strange fate, none of the clipboards seemed damaged. It’s strange what you notice in the midst of battle.

It’s stranger what you don’t notice. Like a grenade tucked in the hooves of a blinded prisoner.

I spotted the explosive as I rolled the unicorn over. Then the pin over to one side. There wasn’t time to get away, but enough to sandwich the grenade between myself and the zebra lover. Bless hyper reaction time. I could feel every micro second slowly tick by, and prayed it was just the drug that dragged this whole mess out. The steady beat of the stallion’s heart, the cold sweat as he embraced ideals over life. The hard, apple shaped lump of the grenade.

“GREN-”

There was a bang, followed by darkness. I was impressed at the lack of pain. I figured that the suit had absorbed most of the damage by some strange quirk of fate, my parents did say I was born under a lucky star. That or dying was far less painful than anypony else had made it out to be.

I came around some time later, unable to hear and barely able to see. Hope stood over me, shouting for something. All I saw was her perfect shape, wings flared in either eagerness or distress. She was doing that cute thing with her eyebrows too. Hope looked at me, stroking a cheek. It looked like she was saying that it was going to be ok. My gaze went down, to see that my suit had been completely torn open. As was most of my chest.

There’s a lot of blood in there, you know.

The world went black.

I felt a weird pop as my eardrums came back, my body completely numb. It felt like I was floating in treacle, or maybe custard. Somewhere between the two based on prior experiences. With care, I opened my eyes to the world. I lay inside a pod, Ministry of Peace designs all over it. A few tubes fed various potions into me, and a small screen to the side informed me that my suit was under repairs.

A life support capsule. I had only seen one once before, and that was during induction training years ago. If you were at your worst, this is where you go. At least it put my state into perspective. A pegasus looked at me, frowning a little before nodding. I couldn’t hear what he said, but when I felt the pod being hoisted up, it looked like it was time to go.

The pod was loaded into the back of a medical transport. Sky wagon design, plenty of space for others. We took off immediately, which just proved how bad a state I was in. My skin itched as it was weaved back together, most of the shrapnel now out of my chest. I didn’t remember having it removed, but enough time had passed for me to go under the knife in the field. As a side note, feeling muscles and bones repair themselves is something I can’t fully explain. It’s just weird and outright wrong.

I settled as best I could, waiting for the long haul. If there was a pegasus pulling me, and from the tilt and shift of the transport there was, I was heading somewhere far. Probably a Ministry of Peace centre with some damn good tech to patch me right up. It was uncomfortable, but better than bleeding out in some zebra-sympathiser’s office.

I imagined Dandy bursting in, catching the traitor in a hail of bullets. Hope would chase in after, throwing a stun grenade and then making the arrest of the year. We’d have to waste medical supplies on the asshole, but they deserved to suffer just a little before being passed on. I smiled, smug in the knowledge that this mission was won.

And then, a flash.

Like an infinite number of cameras going off at once. The mere notion of darkness was gone, like the word had been eaten out of every book in existence. I winced at the sight, feeling my eyes being instantly repaired afterwards.

“Hey! What the hay was-”

The world went black. There was a roaring, as if the earth itself had opened a mouth and exhaled all the sins it was home to. The carriage tumbled, spinning out of control as something lifted and threw it away. I pressed my hooves against the casing to steady myself, unable to feel any pain thanks to the copious amounts of drugs in my system.

I felt gravity vanish. It came back with a vengeance.

Braces were immediately deployed as I bashed around like a foal’s rattle, the pod’s securing coming loose inside the carriage adding to the confusion. I heard a bone or two snap from the violent movements, looking in spaced out terror as the pod recognised the new damage, pinned the limb in place and administered another healing potion.

I suppose it was someone’s grim humour that a message would appear now.

Please remain calm. There is a situation.

We slammed into something, hard enough to stop the spinning. The pod slid with enough speed to smack into the rear-view window, locking in place with the weight of the other pods inside.

The sight was more horrific than I could ever convey. Words do not do justice to what I saw.

Manehatten was gone.

Golden, Gadget, Gold, Gentle and an uncountable number of innocents.

Gone.

Buildings were flattened all around, though the MAS hub had fared a little better. Even then, Hoofbeats was bathed in a sickly fire. Empty night!

The Ministry Hub. The girls at the bakery. Pinkie Pie herself.

Hope.

Gone.

Time had slowed as I soaked all this in. Maybe it was just my mind screwing me over as it battled the drug cocktail in my system. Soon enough, reality overcame whatever state my head was in. The chariot continued its descent. The poor pegasus who was pulling it must have been shredded instantly. Gone in the first flash with any luck. I was significantly less lucky.

The pod rolled around the vehicle, bringing new bruises and cuts. The glass talisman pulsed with light, trying to keep the casing intact. Other talismans were in play, the screen informed me. The Ministry of Peace had gone all out for this pod. For what it was worth, it was working.

Another slam, a shriek of metal, and one last bang as the pod slid. We had stopped. I couldn’t see where, though it wasn’t like that would help me. The display informed me of the deadly radiation that coated the outside world. I’d be a dead colt walking if I left.

That is, if I could. Despite all the damage reduction matrixes, the latch had buckled from the journey. I couldn’t tell when it had broken, only that without outside help I was trapped. The only positive news was that I didn’t need to worry about nutrition, the pods had enough food substitute to last two or three weeks. I was safe, but I wasn’t going anywhere.

“… fuck.”

I tried to block out the screams I could faintly hear. It was just wind. That faint wail of an air raid siren? A test run, has to be. Those booms in the distance were… I couldn’t think of an excuse.

I cried. It was messy, horrible weeping. Complete with wracking heaves as I weakly pounded at the glass. I don’t know where I found the strength, but it took everything I had. Complete and utter despair, I had never been lower before in my life. I’ve been in hopeless situations before, but this time there was no light at the end of the tunnel. Even given the week or so I had, everything I held dear had just been bathed in magical flames.

And it only got worse.

After about twenty minutes of crying, the pod gave a small chime. I ignored it at first, feeling new fluids being pumped into me. It wasn’t until I heard the drrt of text appearing that I gave a weary eye to the information display.

Warning: The environmental seal on this pod has malfunctioned. The nearest Ministry of Peace medical team have been informed and are on route. Please do not panic.

I lost count of how many times I said no. I didn’t noticed when the whisper became a scream. I kicked and beat at the door, hoping that something could give. My voice became hoarse and rough with the desperation. My hooves started to crack and bleed, before being healed instantly.

It has been detected that you are under extreme stress. Administering relaxants. Please try to remain calm. Help is coming. Soothing music will be played shortly.

There was no comfort with the screams blocked. Just more terror. My movements became sluggish, slower. It took all my strength to just lean on the cover, looking up at the sky as clouds began cover and darken. A loud crack, followed by the rumble of a building collapsing on top of whatever hole I was snug in. A few bangs as bricks hit the pod, but nothing more.

I heard Sweetie Belle’s voice begin inside the pod.

“Hush now, quiet now,

It’s time to lay your sleepy head.”

Soon, keeping my eyes open was too much work.

“Hush now, quiet now,
It’s time to go to bed.”

I did everything I could to try to stay awake.

“Drifting off to sleep,
Leave the day behind you,”

Nothing worked, all I could hear was the slow rattle of my breathing as the drugs took over.

“Drifting off to sleep,
Let the joy of dreamland find you…”

Silence.

“Hush now, quiet…”

My ear twitched.

A jingle played, the familiar drrt-drrt of text appearing followed. I pried myself off the glass, looking over at where the information readout came. It was impossible to tell when the pod had shifted, I had been out for too long. The glass was filthy with grime and there still wasn’t any light.

It took a few attempts to blink away the film from my eyes. You know that feeling when you oversleep? You wake up still tired, but restless? It felt like I had slept for millennia. My vision slowly came into focus, my parched lips moving as I read.

General Distress Signal attempt 54,802 – Success! Ministry of Peace ID recognised. Stimulants have been applied. The application of stimulants can have adverse effects and may require further examination. Please await further medical attention.

I settled back, a smile breaking. I was saved! By the nine circles of Tartarus, I had survived and somepony was going to save me! I kicked the air in elation. By the shining sun of Celestia, I was going to make it out! I took another look at the readout, frowning and rereading the date.

“Wait, what in the name of-“

The pod shifted, loud shrieks of metal came as it scraped past something. It settled, none too gently, and the door was torn open. I took a gulp of air, feeling the cool breeze. On my coatless skin.

And then the cold feel of metal.

A shotgun hovered against my head, a green glow holding it in place. “Hold right there, ghoul.”

I swallowed, “Wh-what?”

I attempted a squeak. Instead, it came out somewhere between a rusty gate and a bear’s growl.

“It talked,” another voice, a mare, “It’s not feral, it doesn’t need that thing in its face.”

“Not feral don’t mean not dangerous. Who knows what it was doin’ in there,” the first, stallion. I put his age close to my own.

The two appeared, looking at me cautiously. The stallion was in control of the shotgun, keeping it pressed to my head. His coat a dark forest green, covered by a miss-matched shirt and leather armour top. The stock of another shotgun sat over one side. His mane gave the impression of grass: close cut and the same kind of vibrant summer green.

The mare was an ocean blue, blackened by dirt around the hooves. A soft, ice like blue mane hung almost luxuriously, almost vanishing against the dirtied white of a doctor’s lab coat. She looked disappointed, like someone who had just lost all the riches of the world.

“I’m sorry, Clean. The rumour was…”

“Yep, I heard the rumours. Let’s see, he got anythin’ valuable on him?” I attempted to protest at this, only to have the shotgun pressed harder against me, “Just try it, friend. I’m in all kinds of bad mood now.”

I felt the storage containers shift around a little, opening slightly to let the magic work. My gun and earpiece floated out, settling on the ground. I was pretty desperate for one of those things right now.

“Wait, what’s this?” the mare had found my stack of business cards. Why did I bring them to the assault? Must have forgotten they were in my pocket. After examining the stylised Morale insignia, she took one out from the pack.

“Hard Copy. Jokewriter and Investigator. Ministry of Morale,” she read off.

The confetti and party horns were a bit flat, but still caused a stir as a streamer landed on Clean’s face. The deadpan look from the unicorn was improved as the earth pony mare giggled slightly.

I gave my best cheesy smile, “Every third one, hehe…”

The mood had lightened. The mare looked from me to her companion, then back to me. Her eyes went wide as Clean began to smile, the shotgun lifting away. Any lightness had become perverse.

“Clean, no, it’s too risky! Nopony even knows if there is any-”

“Ministry of Morale, that’s sure somethin’,” He talked over her, before whispering, “We could pull it off, we already have one part. Now an actual agent, still alive? This is perfect Domino!”

His smile had become a grin.

“By the stars, no! Who knows what could happen? What if we get caught?” her voice dropped to match. Clean shook his head.

“Don’t sweat the small stuff. ‘Sides, this is best step anypony’s had in years,” He fixed me with a look, somewhere between a mischievous twinkle and a killer’s stare, “Your Ministry… used to make ponies happy, righ’?”

I nodded.

“Well, we’re in dire need of cheerin’ up. And I think somepony of your… profession, may do just that.”

“H-how can I help?” I offered the cheesy smile again. It didn’t fit the gravelly voice.

“Depends on your next answer,” the shotgun made it back to its holster.

“What do you know about the Magic of Friendship?”

Level up!

New Trait – Ghoul: Through genetics, medicine, or sheer dumb luck, you’ve survived a balefire holocaust and the magical radiation within. You no longer need to sleep, eat or drink as often, and can heal with radiation. However, the stench can drive some away and you’ll look like a corpse for the rest of your days. Good luck with not going feral!

New Perk – Friend of Luna: Thanks to mutation, your eyes will adapt to low light conditions faster.

Author's Notes:

If you'd like to get a little look at the making of this chapter, check out this blog which also has a cool playlist to listen along as you're reading it.