The rain kept up as we dashed through the streets, dodging and ducking behind cover when the opportunity appeared. Blue explained that most ponies would rather pop a shot off at us without a thought, whether they were raiders or not. With the rain obscuring our vision, we weren’t taking any chances.

She explained how the residents of Craterside normally use the sewers to get around. A knowledge passed on for over a century kept the ghouls hidden from the world. Even then, with the current downpour, it would take one slip down there and you would be lost to the world.

That was the least of our worries: when the megaspells were falling some ponies hid inside the sewers to escape the radiation. Plenty of ghouls lived down there and many resurfaced during the storms to escape being swept away. Almost all of them woke up very angry.

“Most ghouls stayed conscious through the change,” Blue explained. “It kept our minds off what was happening. I remember trying to find any survivors in the mall, but most died from the radiation poisoning. It wasn’t until I found another like me I realised that I wasn’t going to recover.”

“Any idea why it happened? I mean, why we ended up like this instead of…” I let the question hang, unasked.

Blue shrugged, “Many ponies have tried to figure it all out. I personally believe it was dumb luck and distance. I remember hearing a rumour, once upon a time, of a ghoul trying to find a cure for this. I imagine she would have found out.”

“What happened to her?”

“No idea. She visited Craterside, but that was a long time ago,” Blue let out the melancholy in a sigh. “I hope she’s doing alright out there, but chances are she died.”

She shook herself, as if to throw away the thought, “Come along. Not much further now. Only the mad would come this close to the crater, so we’re home free.”

We weaved our way through the rusting beams of buildings long gone, a winding path through the skeletons of giants. I tried to gather my thoughts, unsure of how I would react. It felt like just yesterday the other teams were hurrying through these same buildings and paths, desperate to stop this whole mess.

What happened? How did they not succeed? Who survived? And if they did, how would I react? Happy to see another Ministry agent? Angry at their failure? Or would we just weep at the loss of everything we held dear?

Maybe this was just me. I reminded myself that ghouls have had many lifetimes to come to terms with the way Equestria is now, to adapt and carry on. Meanwhile, I was stuck in the horrific honeymoon. It was just dawning how much had changed, how different ponies were. How war changed us far more than any bomb did.

For all the myths and legends, Equestria was never truly harmonious. Not in an obvious way that is. Everypony argued and bickered, but it rarely came to blows. At the end of the day we were still neighbours and friends, even if those relationships were strained at times. Bridges broke all the time but they were rebuilt stronger. It wasn’t until the need for coal pushed us to the breaking point, torching bridges at both ends then screaming at one another for having a fire.

A tingle in my bones pulled my attention to the surroundings. I looked to the buildings and felt my stomach drop as I saw the warped and buckled metal. Only the densest of materials had survived this close, anything inside had been turned to dust when the megaspell went off. The tingle grew as we journeyed deeper into the remains, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It became a slow warmth, building from deep inside, like hot cocoa on Hearth’s Warming. I felt a little more alive, the creaking of joints easing a little. Blue Bobbin smiled as she caught my eye, giving me a once over.

“You’re looking a lot more chipper, I guess you haven’t been near any radiation for a while.”

I baulked, “Radiation?! That doesn’t sound healthy.”

Blue chuckled, easing my worries. “Don’t worry, it’s a part of who you are now. Ghouls need radiation like birds need a song, maybe you should rest in the crater for a while. It’s like a spa treatment. Only with more glowing rocks.”

She pointed at something, but my eyes were busy elsewhere. Below, hidden in the ribcages of skyscrapers, a small collection of tin shacks watched ponies wander to and fro. The buildings were rusted, precarious, and yet looked more real than any of the ruins around. Unicorns and earth ponies chatted to each other, exchanging a few items here and there. A few played card games, laughing and joking like there wasn’t a care in the world.

Every one of them was a ghoul.

I felt a shaky breath leave, Blue patted my shoulder tenderly. “Welcome home, Hard.”

The town was no better than a few shacks loosely banded together. Everything had been built from the remains of Manehatten, leading to interesting aesthetic choices. More importantly, the town looked ready to pack up and go in a moment’s notice, though nopony came across as being on edge. There was an electric buzz in the air, like the beginning of a thunderstorm, threatening to take over me.

Blue was quickly swamped by the other ghouls who weren’t busying themselves with work, smiling and giving a hug to some of them. I stood awkwardly to one side, watching the display, when I felt a tug on my suit. To my right sat a foal, on the cusp of the horrible growth spurts of puberty.

“Hey, newbie. Got any cigs?”

My mouth open and closed for a while, staring at the filly. “Um, no. Sorry.”

“’s alright. Can’t go out looking myself, so I ask all the newbies,” She snorted, spitting out a wad of phlegm. “Tarlung, pleased to meet you.”

I gingerly took the offered hoof, “Hard Copy. Did your parents name you that?”

“Heh, nah. Most of us took on new names over the years. Took mine on from a nickname some traders gave me,” another snort. “Bad habit, wrecks your health.”

“Well, safer than others,” I murmured, remember my first cigarette. Then everything else that followed. What would my mother think if she knew?

Tarlung grunted a laugh, the noise coming from years of experience that the body didn’t show. Her existence would have sent my mane on edge, the sheer wrongness of it all. I wanted to know how old she was when the bombs fell, if she ever grew at all, what changes were there? It raised the same questions in me.

I knew that I had changed. I mean, I had obviously changed with the distinct lack of skin, coat and mane, but the internal changes where something different. I thought that it was some kind of side effect from being in the pod that had stopped me from aging, but Tarlung had shown me the real horrors of radiation. My stomach growled, threatening to throw up what little food was in there. All I could think of were ancient stories of ponies wanting to look a certain way forever, eternally young.

Think the Princesses won on the immortality lotto.

Tarlung nudged me again, bringing out of the stupor. Blue Bobbin and several other ghouls approached, chatting quietly amongst themselves. I stood a little straighter to make a good impression.

“So guys, this is Hard Copy. I found him shouting at ghosts,” she winked, the group chuckling.

“You’re not the first, and certainly won’t be the last, son,” a unicorn chimed in, thoughtfully stroking a long-gone beard. “Though that’s a fine suit, go shopping recently?”

I felt the smile come up as the others laughed, “No, actually. It’s been a bit of a lean week, had to cut down on the sprees. That and the wait was awful, felt like a hundred years had passed after I left the store. Oh, and if there is an owner of a blue chariot, you left your lights on.”

More laughter, hoofs patting my side and leading me further into town. I tried to hold back a tear, sighing as the tension in my chest eased slowly. Home, an actual home. No insults, no guns pointed in my face.

I felt hooves wrapped around me, a one-eyed mare gave me a hug. She finished with an extra squeeze, smiling afterwards. I looked around at the group, all of them looking happier than I could think possible in this world.

“Welcome home, Hard.”

Around two hundred ghouls formed the community, most of them had lived in Manehatten before the spells fell. A few had wandered into the city in the following century, looking for a place safe from all the dangers of Equestria. Due to the scarcity of resources, as well as ghouls looking like something from the darkest of nightmares, very few could find a welcoming door anywhere in the wastes.

Clean Sweep and Domino had filled me in on the history of the wastes, at least what they knew of it. Now, the oldest ponies around were topping me up on the knowledge of the creatures that lurked around now. It felt a little backwards, but it helped with my understanding of it all in a way. Anypony could tell me “bombs fell, everyone died”. Technically, I was there when it happened.

It took a real piece of history to tell me how it changed from a poisoned world to poisoned folk. The townsponies talked about how those who were caught above ground simply banded together in anyway they could, small scraps for resources and security were done out of fear. As more permanent places were laid down, it got worse. Many areas were labelled as being far too dangerous, the previous capital Canterlot for one, as well as rumours that the Everfree Forest had ended up even deadlier than before.

I had never wanted to visit the home of so many deadly creatures before the war, let alone when I was armed. Now that the place was considered even worse, I dreaded to think what could be lurking within.

Eventually, the conversation took its course to the brighter side of things. There were always stories of heroics across the wastes, brought to the ears of the survivors by one DJ PON3. The ghouls all pointed out that there had been many, many DJs over the years, but everyone respected their tenacity to bring the news and keep everyone informed.

And, it was nice to hear the old songs every now and then. Even if there was only twenty or so that survived.

The conversation turned to the ghouls themselves, who they were and where they came from. The town was technically “New Craterside”, the first had run in to an unfortunate situation with the previous leader, a new one taking his place. While their leadership styles were radically different, both were founded on the same ideals however. A safe haven for ghouls from all trots of life, protected from all threats.

“No smoothcoats. Can’t be trusted,” Tarlung grumbled, rolling a glass of whiskey around idly.

“She means non-ghouls,” Pirouette explained, noticing my confused expression. The one-eyed mare frowned at the filly, placing a hoof down to stop the glass spinning.

“I guess old habits die hard,” I sipped at my own glass, not really feeling the burn of alcohol. The mood turned sour for a moment, all of us reflecting on how old prejudice had started whistling a new tune.

“So Hard,” Pirouette began, tapping her hooves to break the tension. “What did you do before?”

“Before…?”

“The spells,” Tarlung poured herself another glass, topping mine up afterwards.

I nodded my thanks, taking out my business cards. Who knew when I’d get the chance to use them again? Tarlung and Pirouette took one each, Blue sitting away and smiling to herself. I caught her eye, and she gave me a knowing look. I tried to calm my nerves with a throat clear, smoothing down an imaginary mane.

“Huh, how about that,” Pirouette smiled. “A jokewriter, a real entertainer. Could do with something like that around here.”

Blue scoffed, “You can say that again.”

“Why? What’s so important about entertainment?” I sat up, feeling a little more important than a few moments before.

“Well, it does us good to keep our minds occupied. Prevents us from, you know,” Pirouette waved a vague hoof, uncomfortable to say any more. Her expression flashed worry when I shrugged.

“From what?”

“You don’t know? Oh Sweet Celestia,” Her hooves moved to her mouth, looking to Blue and Tarlung. The filly was more interested in my business card, leaving Blue Bobbin to fill in the slack.

“Remember how I said we have all our marbles here? Yeah, I didn’t mean that as a joke,” She trotted over to a window, looking out over the town. “Some of us couldn’t take the stresses of the wastes, of being a ghoul. Some of us go mad, utterly insane. Can’t talk, can’t walk properly, and they either sleep for centuries or can’t sleep at all. The only thing that gets them moving is the chance of food. Normally something still walking and talking.”

I frowned, gears turning in my head, “Before I came here, I bumped into a ghoul. They didn’t seem, well, right. They were making this groaning noise, and had empty eyes. Shuffling like a zombie from a bad movie.”

“Forsaken, the poor thing,” Pirouette whispered, as if saying the word would call the ghoul back.

“Feral,” Tarlung spat, throwing the business card to the floor. Blue sent a warning glare at the filly, who knocked back another drink.

“Screw you Blue, you know what they’re like.”

“Of course I do, it’s my job.”

“Then why are you giving me that look? They’re monsters.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, but they were still ponies once upon a time.”

“Ponies don’t try to eat other ponies!”

“Daisy, I-“

“Don’t call me that!” The filly’s hooves crashed on the table. “They’re fucking feral, Blue. That’s all they are. After all this time, they’re not coming back!”

I watched the filly jump down to the floor of the common house, slamming the shack’s door shut after her. I let out a quiet breath, wishing I was elsewhere. Pirouette shook her head and stuck out a hoof, blocking Blue Bobbin as she moved towards the door.

“Let her go, Blue. She’ll come back.”

“What happened? Why did she just…” I waved at the door.

Blue Bobbin took a seat nearby, tapping her hooves together then steepling them. “Her name is Daisy Chain, she was one of the few I found in Manehatten. I met her about ten years after the spells fell, inside a restaurant near the mall. Most of the ponies I had rescued had either died or moved on, only a few remained in the mall, too scared to go out.

“I was on a food gathering mission, I never ate much so they trusted me with the food. This was before most ponies shot at you on sight. It was still a ‘everyone for themselves’ world, but not as bad as this. You could have a conversation with most first, at least talk them into sharing what was there.

“I heard noises coming from the kitchen, she had locked herself inside a walk-in freezer. I found her, crying in the corner with two decaying ponies. Both of their heads had been caved in by a hockey stick. Her parents.”

Blue took a sip of her drink, wincing a little as it worked down her throat. “They had hidden themselves in there to escape some more aggressive scavengers, locked themselves in by mistake. Her mother had suffered from wartime stress, and eventually snapped. The father held her back for as long as he could.

“Her own mother tried to eat them both. She took the only memento she had of home and saved herself. She told me once her cutie mark was a hockey stick as well, the star player for her home team. She’d been stuck in there for a little over three months, watching her parents rot with no hope of a rescue.”

I whistled, looking to the table. I couldn’t even begin to process what that little filly had gone through, especially considering how little time she had to process everything. Forever stuck inside a body too small for her maturity, losing everything and then removing what was left. I was surprised she hadn’t snapped as well, and remained as solid as she did.

Pirouette let the silence hang for a little while, breaking it while Blue poured another few drinks. “She’s never truly forgiven herself for that, always angry at the world. She hates the smoothcoats for chasing them in there, she hates her parents for putting her in that situation, she hates everypony that seems to have a brighter attitude than her.”

The one-eyed mare gave a sad smile, resting her head on a hoof. “She hates the words we use for the forsaken, says it’s like we forgive them for trying to kill us. I understand where she comes from, I really do, but I don’t want to pretend they were never normal ponies. I don’t want to forget them, because I don’t want to be forgotten. Just wish there was something we could do for her.”

I felt a hoof rest on my shoulder. My head turned, eyes meeting Blue Bobbin’s. I could see a mind far older than it should have been in those eyes, deep wells of sadness and pain, and a will to push on no matter what. They changed slightly, showing a growing warmth and hope twinkling away.

“Just as well we have a Pinkie Pie approved party pony here, isn’t it?” She chuckled at my look of confusion. “Didn’t have to read the business card to know that, the suit was the biggest give away.”

“What, am I wearing the one with ‘party patrol’ on it again?”

“No, but I’ve made enough to know,” Blue patted my head gently. “I did say that one wasn’t one of mine, I don’t make three-piece Ministry suits. Well, didn’t. Mine were two-piece, the waistcoat doesn’t add anything.”

“A shame, really. Think of all the sales you’ve missed.”

“Shush you. Still, we have an upset filly. Think you can work your magic?” Blue gave me a wink. Not just a wink, that kind of wink that would have the magical ting if this were a movie. Not all the powers in the universe could argue against a ting wink.

I frowned, pulling out the DC-Pad. A few clicks, and I brought up something from the storage, a plan forming in my head. “I can throw something together, but I need a few things. By the way, what was the name of that team?”

A few hours later, I made my way past all the shacks that made up Craterside. Each one had been made by hoof, designed by the ponies living in them. what few families there were had slightly larger ones, and those who had lived with the group for longer had expanded a little. Earth pony ingenuity, get in. I stopped outside one of the middle-sized shacks, frowning at the unusual art on the door.

I rapped a hoof on the door, pushing it open as it swung inside. Tarlung’s shack looked to be rather cut and paste with the others. One floor, a living room, toilet and a bedroom. All the things a growing ghoul needs. The living room was filled with various trophies and posters, advertising various grand games between different teams across Equestria. All of them hockey matches.

“It’s pretty rude to walk into somepony’s house,” Tarlung snorted as she brushed past me. “What do you want?”

“Are these all yours?” I examined the trophies carefully, reading off the awards. “Best newcomer. Under twelve Girl’s Champions. Vanhoover Champions, third year running.”

“The Vanhoover Vandals, that’s us,” I could hear the tinge of pride in the words. “Or, was us.”

“You’re from Vanhoover? Long way from home.”

Tarlung nodded, gesturing for us to take a seat. “We were down for a match against the Manehatten Manticores, mom and dad took me out for the day.”

The filly paused, letting a cold silence grow in the room. “I begged them to take to me to the park, just a few more minutes, and then another few. And another. We spent all day playing, that we missed the bus back to town. When the spell hit.

“Mom covered me while dad put up a shield. He was good at that, had some medals from the war. He was part of the Ministry of Peace, helping ponies get home after fighting. I think that’s how he knew what to do, when we started changing. He never let me see how scared he was, always kept me distracted and happy, even when my cutie mark fell off.”

I heard a sniffle from Tarlung, the noise strange with the rasping throat of a 150-year-old smoker. “He told me to be brave when mom started to act weird. She started to forget things now and then, lose focus and space out. She and dad had these horrible fights, screaming at each other when they thought I couldn’t hear. She said horrible things, like she wished we had all died back then. Sometimes I thought that too.

“But dad, he said no. He said that we survived for a reason, so we keep going. He was so brave and caring, always looking after us and anypony we came across. He treated me like an adult, while mom still acted like I was a kid. I was twenty years old when… he told me not to be scared, after I killed mom. She had broken free, started to eat him. I tried to stop her, then she tried to bite me. I panicked and hit her again, and again, and again. He was dying, but slowly. He asked me to… to…”

Unsure, I gently placed a leg around her in an uncomfortable hug, sighing in relief as she accepted and returned it. We sat for a while, letting her cry it out. A few shuddering breaths later, she shook herself free, wiping away the gunk from her face.

“I’m ok, I’m ok. Sorry, I don’t like it when ponies see me cry. Means I’m not tough.”

“Do you need to be tough?” I asked, looking over all the mementos.

Tarlung snorted indignantly, “Of course. You need to be tough out here. There’s no time to cry or laugh.”

I gave her head an affectionate rub, smiling as she looked up. “You know what I did most at my old job? Other than laugh and tell jokes?”

She shook her head, eyes questioning. “I cried. Lots and lots. At the start, almost every day. I was so scared of everything, how I was going to mess up, what if the others didn’t think I was funny… what if my friends were spies.”

“And did they happen?”

“Oh yeah, big time,” I grinned, bringing a small laugh from Tarlung. “I messed up lots, and some of my jokes fell flat. I even flooded the offices with infinite glitter after misreading instructions. I was sneezing sparkles for weeks afterwards. But that’s not the point, it’s ok to not be tough now and then. We need a big cry, else we’ll never laugh again. I know you think you have to be tough, but it’s ok to rely on others.

“You’ve been through a lot, more than anypony could believe. More than anypony should,” I easily lifted the filly onto my back, trotting outside. “I’m pretty new at being a ghoul, so I don’t know what we like. But I do know what ponies like.”

I heard a gasp come from the filly as she gazed at the town’s hard work. It was a far cry from the standards held at Morale back in the day, but for what we had to hoof, it was perfect. Rough-made punch stood in old, cracked cups. A vaguely pony shaped piñata sat in the middle of a pile of balloons, rescued from somepony’s old trunk, while the ghouls snacked on a few fancy buck cakes and other treats they had saved for a future emergency. The fact that they had been untouched since they were collected over fifty years ago spoke how rare an emergency was.

A radio blared music from a bygone era, courtesy of DJ PON3. It was just lucky that we had hit a time where he played endless music instead of service announcements. The heavens had aligned that day. I felt the weight leave my back as Tarlung slowly turned back to Daisy Chain, all wide eyes and smiles. The feeling grew as she spotted the decorations of old furniture beaten into mock hockey sticks.

With a cheer, the town greeted her, encouraging her to dance and let loose. I sighed, dusting my hooves as I admired my work. It wasn’t easy convincing the residents of Craterside to give up what meagre possessions they had, or to pitch in to help for the sake of one filly. After so many years of only looking after themselves and their own, it was a sudden change of pace to act selflessly for once. Even then, just one cake or just one stick from each of them made all the difference.

I won’t toot my own horn and claim it was all me. It took some buttering up for the more stubborn ghouls, but once they saw the eagerness of the others they could not help but lend a hoof. Soon, the entire town had started work under the guidance of myself and instruction of Blue Bobbin.

I moved up to the party, taking a spot next to the tailor. She wiped away the crumbs of cake, mumbling an apology as she swallowed.

“They’re doing well with you in charge, Blue,” I smiled to the mare, blinking as she giggled.

“Oh no, I’m not in charge. We have the Sherriff to look after us, he’s busy tracking down supplies now. We all chip in and do our part, but he does the most for all of us. Always looking for new and safer places for us ghouls,” She sighed, a forlorn look briefly appearing. “We’ve all lost so much, and we do what we can to keep us together.”

“But you’ve never done something like this?” I gestured as the ice melted, ponies moving with a little more joy in their eyes.

She shook her head, “We’ve never really thought about celebrating things beyond the occasional birthday. Certainly not a party for the sake of a party.”

She stood up, pulling at my hooves, “Come on, show an old mare how to dance.”

I grinned, following her lead. “I’m sure I can teach you a move or two.”

We joined the procession, laughing and joking away with the crowd. Catching the eyes that passed, I no longer saw any fear or worry. It felt like we had hopped back in time, all we needed were full coats and it could be inside Hoofbeats again. The town moved to the song and dance, laughing as the piñata met its doom and the treats inside were shared out.

Blue and I met in the middle of impromptu dancefloor, matching our movements to the rhythms of Sapphire Shores. Classic soul filled the air as we bounced, ducked, weaved and came together. Two steps to the right. Shimmy to the left. Right hoof up for the clap, left up for the second. Three steps back, move up to meet in the middle. Repeat.

On and on our dance went, smiles ten miles wide. I saw Tarlung leading the dance with another ghoul foal. She dragged the poor colt around like a ragdoll, both too delirious with sugar and joy to care about keeping in time. Blue pulled my attention back to her as the song merged into the next; big band swing. The dancing became even more daring, more energetic, more alive.

Five songs later, I settled to one side to catch my breath. Pirouette sat next to me, clapping in time to the music as the other ghouls danced away. They all moved with the life of foals, bouncing and bending in impossible ways. More so if you consider they all looked like they’re just taken a stroll out of their grave. The one-eyed mare smiled, grabbing my attention.

“You’ve done some good already, Mr. Party Pony. I’m impressed you manged this so quickly.”

“Vanhoover Vandals, party number ten thousand, four-hundred and fifty-two,” I rattled off, smiling at the shocked look. I casually took out the DC-pad, waving it. “To celebrate the team’s furthest game from home. It was supposed to be my team’s job that day, completely forgot until you mentioned hockey. Wouldn't even have thought about it if I hadn't picked this up from Hoofbeats. What are the odds it was for our little filly?”

“Almost like destiny, huh?” we shared a small laugh at the weird twists and turns of fate, watching as a unicorn thumped the dying radio. A cheer went up as the music returned. “What were you doing there?”

“We were looking for a lead on something, the Magic of Friendship,” I raised a non-existent eyebrow, but Pirouette shook her head. “Ah well, worth a try.”

“Who’s we?”

“Myself and my two saviours. Smoo- non-ghouls,” I caught myself in the slur, frowning at myself. We were all ponies deep down, no need to apply new labels because of skin differences. A lesson that should have been learned years ago. “I promised to meet them tomorrow, after they come back from Tenpony.”

“You’re not staying then?” There was an edge of disappointment in Pirouette’s voice, as well as reluctant acceptance. “Are you travelling far?”

“Fillydelphia.”

“Woo, road trip,” Pirouette waved her hooves in mock glee. “Be careful there, it’s not great. Anywhere particular in mind?”

“Thanks for the tip, and we’re looking for the old Golden Gallop Casino. It’s still alive, apparently,” I chuckled, shaking my head.

“Ah, I remember there. Went there for my wild twenty-first! A gorgeous cinema too,” She sighed wistfully, looking up at the sky in memory. “I remember when Hinny in the Hills finally had a film, must have watched that dozens of times. It’s a shame really, we found a projector a few years ago, but it doesn’t work.”

A smirk found a home on my face, “Why, Miss Pirouette, I didn’t take you for this kind of pony.”

She returned the smile, trying to look innocent, “I don’t know what you’re inferring, Mr. Copy.”

“That I might just stumble upon a working projector, and the spare parts. And maybe a film or two.”

“You just might.”

“And they may make their way back here?”

“They just might,” the innocent façade began to crack, a mischievous smile leaking through.

“Well, I wouldn’t be much of an entertainer if I didn’t bring entertainment, would I?”

“I suppose you wouldn’t,” she giggled, looking out over the crowd. “You don’t have to, though. We can get by without things like that.”

“There’s surviving, and there’s living,” I snorted. “I want to do the latter, and think it’s time you all do as well. Think it’s time the wastes did more than just survive.”

Pirouette nodded, “I think so too. I think we need to stop being walking corpses, to step up and stop wallowing.”

“That’s very forward thinking of you.”

“I also think it’s high time you had a bath.”

“That’s very forward of you,” I gave myself an experimental sniff. It seemed that necrosis catches up quickly after being exposed to the air. It was not a pleasant smell. Pirouette chuckled at my experimental sniffing, shaking her head.

“I mean in the crater, get some radiation in you. Blue said you weren’t feeling quite right, and a top up will do you good. Go on, I’ll get a bed ready,” she winked as I fired a questioning look. “Well, you have until tomorrow. May as well spend the night.”

Dawn broke over Craterside with little fanfare.

What was dark become gloomy, the hidden sun struggling to break through the cloud cover. I woke early, intending to watch the sunrise, or pretend to. Tarlung had burnt out a lot of energy by the time I returned from my time in the crater and was more than eager to be carried back to her shack for a well-earned rest. It felt strange tucking her in, somewhere between caring for a friend and a child. I didn’t dwell on the feeling long, going back to my bunk in the common house.

While ghouls do not need to sleep every day, there are times where we do need to recuperate after being on the go for a long period of time. It just so happens a party was an excellent way to work out all those kinks and have a good rest. Most of the town were fast asleep as I walked around the streets, taking in deep breaths.

I felt like a new stallion, filled to the brim with a lifeforce unlike any other. I had the energy of a school colt, with the body of an athlete. Well, a decomposing athlete, but still. I did a few short gallops and push-ups, feeling my body sing with joy as there was no pain. Seemed the folks at Sparkle Cola were onto something right when they made Rad, even if nopony ever got to drink it. Radiation does give you that little kick.

“Well you’re looking good this morning, sleep ok?” Pirouette trotted over, bouncing on her hooves lightly.

“Yeah, pretty good thanks. I would say best sleep in ages, but I think I hold some sort of record at one-hundred and fifty years,” I stretched myself out, finding the limits of my muscles.

“I’m sure a dragon or two could beat you,” Blue Bobbin called back, closing a door behind her. “Pretty sure they’re still out there, sleeping away.”

“That’s a grim thought. Morning Blue,” Pirouette joined me in the stretches, counting down the seconds as we held positions. “Think this young colt wants to go for a wander.”

I nickered at the suggestion, “Not too much see around here, but thank you for the offer.”

“Well, we could do with a patrol. Saw some bloodwings roosting on the way to the town, need them to move on,” Blue moved past us, gesturing to areas for Pirouette to look at. “Think you and the Party Pony can take care of it?”

Pirouette nodded, moving back towards her shack. “No worries, might even have some fun while we’re at it too.”

Blue moved up to me, returning a mock salute. I shook my head as a smile breached, “Sure you’re not in charge?”

“I’m just a little more cautious, bloodwings tend not to bother ghouls but it’s better to nip a problem in the bud. Don’t want them to suddenly start going for us because we were lazy,” she caught my expression, smiling as I waved an encouraging hoof. “Oh, sorry, big nasty bats. Like to suck all the blood out of pony.”

“Yeesh, is there anything around here that won’t kill me?”

“If you’re at a distance, a Balefire Phoenix. They’re pretty territorial.”

“Never cared much for birds,” I sniffed, watching Pirouette bounce out of her home with a battle saddle equipped, a hunting rifle locked into place on her right side. She grinned at my confused expression. “Think you have enough firepower?”

“Laugh it up, you’ll be thanking me when I save your sorry flank,” she bumped into me and began to walk out of the town, humming a happy tune to herself as she bounced. I watched for a while, enjoying the bizarre sight. Pirouette had said her talent lay in dancing, and her hoof work showed it off splendidly. It was a shame that the image was marred by the ancient saddle.

“Hey Blue, you said something yesterday, I forgot to ask you,” I tapped a hoof on the floor. “When we were talking about the other ghoul I saw, you said it was your job. Does that mean what I think it does?”

Blue paused for a moment, giving a single nod. “It’s not pleasant, especially when they could have been a friend or loved one back in the day. I think of it as being a release for them.”

“Sounds tough, seeing somepony you once knew and knowing they’ve ended up like that. even kill you. You’re doing something amazing, Blue,” I began to walk towards the waiting Pirouette, just catching Blue’s quiet reply.

“We both know that’s the wrong word, Hard.”

I let it hang in the air, putting distance between us. My time at Morale wasn’t always pleasant, for every party and birthday, we had our interrogations and sentencing. It’s why you learned how to have a switch, you can’t let the two sides interact. Serious mode, fun mode, the two could never become one and the same. You’d end up mad.

Or cramming yourself with enough substances ponies would get a second-hoof high off you.

The route was a simple circuit around the crater, keeping enough distance to hopefully throw any curious creatures off course from Craterside itself. Pirouette kept the song up, humming away as her eye flicked around, hunting for these strange creatures. Her song quietened when we spotted a few roosting on a rusted I-beam, carefully lining a shot up.

“The first shot will scare them, pick off the ones that get too close, ok?” her tone was unusually authoritative, giving me the impression of a police or military background. I found myself following the order before I could think, getting my pistol ready.

Her rifle barked once, turning one of the bloodwings into a sack of bloody leather. Its three companions screeched in surprise, one making a beeline for us as the others flapped around in confusion. My pistol, a polite cough compared to the rifle, punched two clean holes in the creature.

Pirouette’s rifle fired two more shots, one scoring another clean kill while the second clipped the wing of the final bloodwing. It mewled in pain as it tried to take flight again, the leathery skin tearing. With sickening crunch, Pirouette broke its neck. She shook her hoof, looking disgusted at the corpse-like appendage.

“Ew, ew, ew. It’s always the time you’re trying to look cool it explodes on you,” she grimaced, wiping the gunge off.

“Think you’ve got the cool points. Where did you learn to shoot like that?”

“I was part of the homeguard, the Fighting Fillies. Signed up a year before everything went to shit, drilled every day in case the worst happened. That and a century’s worth of practice has helped.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard of the Fighting Fillies before, a regiment?” we moved on from the scene, looking out for more bloodwings.

“Not quite, we were a civilian organisation. Lovely mare by the name of Battenberg set us up, ex-military,” Pirouette hummed a little, bouncing her head side to side as if to shake the memories loose. “Not sure what part of the army she was from, come to think of it, but she trained us well. Prepared for any eventuality.”

“Even this?” I motioned to the destruction around. To my surprise, Pirouette nodded.

“Almost every possible thing. I don’t know if anypony else survived the megaspells, we were pretty spread out already, and I doubt all of us had this makeover,” she snorted a half-laugh, frowning after. “Strange, I guess they thought the Stables would save far more than they did.”

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“Turns out, when everything’s going to shit ponies panic. I’m certain some of those Stables closed far earlier than they should have, but who knows? Nopony around today to tell us any different. Most who didn’t make it inside ended up dying pretty soon, some made what they could of the situation.”

“By continuing to bicker and fight until there’s nothing left,” I grumbled.

Pirouette laughed lightly, “I don’t think you’ve been out here long enough to make that call. There’s a lot wrong with Equestria right now, but some of us still try to do better. For every bad pony, there are two good ones somewhere.”

“That’s rather optimistic of you,” I snorted, and relented. “But you’re right. Positive thinking can do more than you know. Smile and the world smiles with you, so smile big and proud for those who can’t.”

“Pinkie?”

“Golden Days, but probably something Pinkie said once,” I caught her look. “Oh, my team’s leader. Wonderful mare, was one of the first to sign up for the Ministry of Morale.”

Pirouette beamed, slipping back into her humming as our patrol continued. It seemed our initial skirmish had scared anything else away, until we came across the carcasses of another flock. Bloodwings aren’t a basket of roses, but the stench that came from the remains was something else. We both moved into to investigate, my stomach churning at the damage done to the creatures.

Despite their nasty nature, I hoped they had died before they were skinned. Wet strands of meat clung grimly to the skin, trying to pull it back on to the body. Each creature was locked in an expression of animalistic fear. I looked to Pirouette, who shook her head.

“I have no idea who would do this, or why for that matter,” Pirouette sighed. “This isn’t wildlife.”

“So somepony’s here?” I paced around, looking for some sort of clue or indication of other life.

“I don’t like it. This close as well,” the comment was punctuated with the click-clack of a reload. “We’d better deal with it now.”

We continued on the path, following breadcrumbs of more carnage. A bloodsplatter here, a piece of meat there, all of it bringing more and more unease. Any mirth and song had been tucked away. It felt like I was on an operation again; one small slip and that would be end. All I could hope was that whatever it was had moved along long before we found those corpses.

Our route opened up into the innards of an apartment, the contents having been blown into the streets around. The concrete had given up the fight against gravity years ago, the rubble narrowly missing the rusting carts around the building. Another pile of bloodwings lay in the middle. Blood stuck them to the floor as it dried.

Pirouette sucked a breath in, looking around with a steely eye. She nodded once, motioning to stay quiet. I could do little other than obey. We carefully searched the rubble for any source of life. The tension was doing no good to my frayed nerves and I could feel the same for Pirouette.

Perhaps that is why my attention slipped for a brief second. I didn’t hear what sent me sprawling, only felt the wind being sucked out of me as my hooves shot out. I felt my teeth chatter as I kissed concrete only to be flung a few meters to one side. My body bounced along the ground, coming to a stop as I felt a pressure on my throat.

The gentle tingle of magic came into the air. It mocked me with the horrible way it was being used. I tried to calm myself, unable to bring in enough air to prevent a frenzied twitching. My eyes flung around, only to land on Pirouette as she attempted the same. A small cut along her belly appeared where the battle saddle’s buckle had been torn away. The rifle lay to one side, too far to reach. Our eyes met for a brief moment and relayed all the panic we could summon.

Pirouette gave a raspy squeak as the magic held her in place, eyes darting for the source. A knife floated towards her, slowly turning around. Her hooves beat at her throat, trying to ease the pressure on her windpipe as the wicked blade reached her face. I struggled, trying to call out to her while fighting for breath, a strange choking noise coming out instead. It sounded like a death rattle, a horrendous war for life in a pony’s last moments.

The knife delicately examined Pirouette’s eye, matching her jerking head movements to get away. It hovered like an artist’s brush over a blank canvas. The point traced down her nose and lips, a small bead of blood chasing the tip. She gurgled a moan of pain, turning into sobs, stopping as the weapon came to rest against her throat. The magic holding her throat died, letting her drop on the blade.

I felt tears roll as the head fell a meter or two from the body. The blade casually flicking itself clean as I tried to roar through the pressure. As it wiped the gore off on Pirouette’s corpse, I heard the crunch of hoofsteps. The pressure on my throat eased a little, allowing me to draw in enough breath to cough. My body shook with convulsions as my lungs screamed for more air to breathe.

From the corner came a unicorn. He casually regarded Pirouette’s body, flipping it over with a hoof. A long coat covered most of his body, hiding the sickly green coat beneath. On his face remained obscured by a wartime gas mask with tinted lenses. Magic quickly rifled through my companion’s pockets, looking for something worth taking.

“Woah, thought I squeezed so hard her eye came out. Huh, just as well I didn’t shoot anything. Waste of bullets,” his head turned in my direction. “Was she your friend? I’m so sorry, I find it hard to tell corpses apart. Normally, I just give them a quick poke to see if they want to eat me or not.”

I snarled at him, swiping at the unicorn with a hoof. The blade sunk into the concrete nearby, almost to the hilt. Getting a closer look at it, I realised it was actually some kind of claw, the thicker end crudely shaped into a dagger hilt. The weapon slid out of the ground and floated just in sight.

“Aren’t you a feisty one?” he sat down in front of me, giving my throat a squeeze. A grin appeared as I gurgled in response.

“Two ghouls, walking around here, and neither are feral. Makes you think, what if that little settlement I heard whispers about actually exists?” the mask made an almost comical stretching and popping noise, the stallion shaking his face. “Ho wow, it gets hot under there! But better that than getting slow roasted with rads.”

“Now then, Mr. Corpse, perhaps we should have a little chat, hmm?” I felt my neck being pulled away from the ground, my legs moved to match the speed to save as much choking as possible. “If I let go, are you going to behave?”

The pressure eased around my windpipe, allowing another deep breath, “You asshole.”

“Language! And you kissed your mother with that mouth,” he tutted, bringing the knife to my face again. “Now, you will address me by name, or sir. Is that clear?”

I panted as the knife came close to my neck, almost feeling how sharp it was from the wind blowing across it. Caving, I nodded. As long as I lived I could get revenge for Priouette. The knife moved away, still within easy stabbing distance.

“Good boy. I’m Mr. Shock, or Septic Shock. Hunter of all things, from treasure to ponies, and even a ghoul or two from time to time. Today, I’m feeling generous,” he smoothed down a crease in his coat. “You get to live! Isn’t that great? I just need three things from you.”

I felt my jacket twitch as one button opened, “First, I want everything you’re carrying. Second, I want to know where you two came from. Finally, and I don’t blame you if you don’t know, but I’m looking for somepony.”

The second button opened, my jacket opened up. First came my pistol, setting down in front of me, followed by my spare ammo. I watched the methodical way he checked each pocket, testing them one by one before moving to the next. A plan began to form.

“Ok, ok, you can take it all. A-as for where we came from, we’ve just arrived in Manehatten. We heard about the ghouls living here, but we couldn’t find them.”

“Hmmm, interesting. What about the pony?” Septic looked me in the eye for the first time, sending a chill along my spine. “Unicorn, male. Attitude like shit and carries two shotguns, that ring any bells?”

My hoof moved to my pocket, the next one to check. Septic’s eyes shot down at the movement, letting me reign in my surprise. I felt my limb being pulled away from the jacket, my body pinned to the ground as the pocket opened. Magic dragged my business card box out.

He eyed the box, smirking as he floated it up to inspect it. “You were pretty desperate to hide this, what is it? Hey look, balloons!”

He grinned, tapping the symbol of Morale. “I love balloons. There are some great ones over in Fillydelphia, have you ever been there? You should go sometime, lovely this time of year.”

The lid came off with a clatter, exposing the cards. Septic Shock smirked, casually taking one out. I sucked in a single breath as it left the case, tensing myself.

“Hard Copy. Jokewriter and Investigator. Ministry of Mor-FUCK!”

The magic holding me down popped as confetti covered the unicorn, my limbs springing into action as I hurled myself at him. He wiped away some of the string, only to see my hoof sailing into his face. His nose gave an uncomfortable crack, blood dribbling onto my leg as he spun around. My other forehoof neatly caught the business card box, tucking it inside my suit in a single movement.

I followed up the attack with a bounce on my hooves, scything a kick into his neck. The unicorn sailed into the ground, bouncing once. I had never formally studied any kind of hoof to hoof fighting, beyond the standard kicks and pins. Most of this style was based on a delicate combination of utter terror and old zebra martial art films.

And Power Pony comics. Iron Hoof lives on.

Septic chuckled as he got to his hooves, spitting out a glob of blood and mucus. He rolled his neck, wincing at a crunch before following it up with more pops along his legs. I picked up my pistol, rolling my tongue along the trigger as we stared down.

“It’s a shame,” he spoke up, pacing around to match my movements. “I can’t have the usual banter if you’re an earth pony. Can’t talk with a- hey, hey!”

There was a wrenching noise as he pulled a battered cart door across his body, diving to one side as I fired more shots. I took off into the rubble, moving away from Craterside as quickly as possible. The town wouldn’t stand a chance without some sort of back-up. I threw the switch and fought back a tear, Pirouette would have to wait.

I glanced behind me, throwing myself to one side as a chunk of concrete flew past. I performed an intricate dance, bobbing and weaving as more projectiles loomed out of the near distance. There was no pain or uncertainty to my movements. I moved faster than ever before. My body felt light and full of vitality. Ironic for a ghoul, really.

However, the high came to a halt. I turned a half step too far, pulling my head back to avoid a lead pipe whistling down at me. the pipe turned upwards halfway though the attack, clipping my head and sending me to the dirt. I saw stars and purple, blearily rolling to avoid a follow up blow. The pipe clanged as it struck the ground, ringing in my ears as I heard a gallop. My vision cleared in time to see Septic rush at me, spearing me to the ground in a tackle.

We bounced on the floor, my forehooves coming up to protect my head and neck as he rained down blows. Each one felt like a kick from a mule, but the pain quickly subsided with a warm tingling in my bones. I managed to slip a hindleg up, lashing out under his coat and activating the Datplacer.

I felt something break from my kick, the woof of air being driven out of Septic Shock as he thumped against the floor. His armour had caught most of the effect of the Datplacer, absorbing the hit instead of sending him into a wall. He wheezed a laugh and drew two pistols from beneath his coat. I span out of the line of fire, feeling a shot graze my hindleg as I bounced back to my hooves. It itched as the muscle reknitted. It’s not unlike a healing potion, but radiation healing has no warmth to the action. There were at least some perks to looking like a corpse.

Septic rolled to his hooves, a mad look in his eyes as he swallowed a pill, “Holy fuck, you might actually be some fun!”

He fired off a few more shots, ducking away as I sent a few in return. I felt the old buzz of combat adrenaline work its way in, pure instinct taking control. Two more pistols pop-ed in front of me and snapped a shot off each. Without Septic’s aim, they went wide as I dove to the ground, rolling as another two teleported nearby and hosed the space down with bullets.

“No way! You dodged ‘em! Fuck me ghoul, this just gets better!” Septic called out, sliding around my cover and reloading his spent rounds. As his coat flicked up, I saw a host of holsters and spare ammo, waiting to slot into the five pistols that danced around him.

“I never really got the hang of teleporting things bigger than a gun, but my papa said to work at what you’re good at,” that same mad look crossed his face, oozing malice. “Let’s see how well you can keep up.”

The fight turned dirty quick. I pressed to keep us in close range to deter Septic from using his pistols. The tactic worked to a degree, fewer shots were fired but at the cost of them being too close for comfort. We locked hooves, taking punishing blows and counters. He had magic and a cruel cunning that caught me off guard again and again, I had lighter hoofwork and enough radiation to heal away fatigue.

A lucky strike crunched my jaw, followed up with a quick jab to the ribs. I sprung away, forcing myself through the pain as I felt the cold chill of a pistol against my neck, jumping back in with a stomp after the shot went wide. Septic dodged, whistling as the concrete cracked under the force. I brought the same hoof back up and scored a hit where my earlier kick landed. The unicorn cried out, bringing all his weapons to bare.

I took a risk. It paid off.

Before he could pull the trigger, my other leg came around. The unused Datplacer gave a whisper quiet whoomph as it struck, the force hitting him on the chin. Back in training, we were taught about the button. The spot where, even if your foe is twice your size and they shrugged off every blow, it’ll take them down. It had worked on ponies riding high on Buck and zebra martial art masters.

It worked perfectly on an upstart unicorn asshole.

The pistols dropped to the floor in an unceremonious clatter, Septic’s body crashing a few meters away. He didn’t stir, Septic simply lay in the dirt. I waited a few moments, catching my breath as itching came across my body. Looked like I took more damage than I thought, but the damage was minimal.

Confident Septic wasn’t about to bounce back to life, I rushed back to Pirouette’s body. From his injuries, I figured he’d be out of a fight for a while. With any luck, the bloodwings would want some revenge for their fallen brethren. I knew the ghouls would want it if not.

Pirouette’s corpse lay undisturbed. Her face was locked in shock, the right side slightly damp with drying tears. I heard once that some ponies live on for a few minutes after their heads are removed. I pray that it’s just a scary story colts tell one another. Removing the battle saddle, I took her body onto my back and began the long trot back to Craterside.

I kept the switch on.

I watched the ghouls plant Pirouette’s marker in the ground, a chunk of metal warped by evil flames in years gone. It suited her grave, in a macabre way. Something normal, ordinary, turned almost beautiful thanks to senseless destruction. Her body will forever be watched by the skeletons of the past, both pony and building, and the clouds will weep her passing.

A few ghouls had left to find Septic, but they had turned up nothing. For all the hell the wastes put these ghouls through, I had figured it would give them a little kindness in taking the life of the unicorn. No good deeds today.

They found Pirouette’s saddle and brought it back to sit by the many mementos in what the town called an armoury. Blue stayed out searching longer, the sounds of her gunshots distant. Some were hopeful that she had found Septic, but I knew that it was venting. Angry that her friend had died on such a routine and simple task, angry that she sent Pirouette out. Maybe angry it was her and not me.

Tarlung sat next to me, as silent as the stones around us. “I know you said it’s ok to cry, but this time I don’t feel sad. I just feel angry.”

“I know.”

“Celestia above, I want to gut that fucker. I want to track him down, and break him. His own mother wouldn’t recognise the mess left over,” Tarlung spat on the ground, shaking as she rambled. “She was so good, so forgiving and wonderful and kind and loving. She deserved to live out her days in peace, in safety, and that was taken from her. All because some raider fuck fancied some fun.”

“Tar…”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck fuckity fuck!” The filly screamed, wiping away the small tears that leaked through. I let the silence fall, biding my time as she tried to calm down.

“I’ll get him, Tarlung,” I spoke softly, scared that too hard a word would break her. “I think I know where he’s going, so I’ll kill him, and come back. Then we can live here, away from everything.”

I omphed as the filly hugged me, “You better.”

We sat there for a while, not paying a great deal of attention to the funeral. I felt that it was rushed, as if the town was in fear that they were next. Some ghouls talked about moving on to another location, but that would have to wait until the scavengers came back. There was a sense of deep rooted terror, something that all the card games and joking usually covered up.

But there was something else. That same determination that, even though this tragedy had happened, they will carry on. They will trot ever forwards, like true Equestrians. I think that’s where ponies really shine: our tenacity. Our inability to give up entirely, to set a course and keep moving until the end of days.

As the funeral petered out, Tarlung thanked me for the time and made her way home. She needed time to morn alone and I wasn’t going to take that from her. I gathered the last of my things, thanking the ponies who helped with the party, and explained my plans to hunt Septic down. Most were grateful for the gesture, but their eyes told me they expected little success. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting to win, let alone find him again. If our paths crossed, it would only be too soon.

With a heavy, but determined heart, I left Craterside. When I reached the town limits, I took one last look, soaking in a chance for a quiet life.

“Are you sure about this?” Blue called out, stopping me from walking another step. I turned around, looking at her cocked head. “There’s a home here, you don’t owe anything to anypony out there.”

“I do, in a way. Even if it was for his own needs, he got me out of there. If not for that, I’d have never met you,” I turned to face her fully. “That, and I promised Tarlung I’d avenge Pirouette.”

“And that’s enough to leave? Really? Throwing your life away in the name of revenge? This isn’t a story Hard, you could die.”

“It’s not the only promise,” I looked to Pirouette’s grave. “She wanted to see movies again, I was going to get all the parts for a projector and come back here. We could watch Hinny in the Hills and eat cheaply made popcorn. Just like the old days.”

Blue Bobbin frowned, studying me carefully, “I don’t like liars, Hard Copy, so you’d better come home. Else I’m finding your sorry ass and dragging you here.”

“Promise?”

“Only if you do too.”

“Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye,” I finished the movements, grinning all the while. “Besides, who else can fix my suit? I might get battered around a little more.”

I rolled with the affectionate bat to the face, returning the hug after. We held each other for a moment, before Blue broke away first. She nodded, let out a snort of air, and watched as I made my way out of sight. Soon, the tingle in my bones faded, and I had made my way back to downtown Manehatten. The clouds loomed overhead, eternally present and watching.

Equestria had stopped crying, just for a little while.

“Fuck me zombie, what pills did you pop?”

Clean Sweep looked slightly worse for wear, his eyes looked bloodshot while his mane frazzled and poorly kept. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he had slept outside for the first time. Given that was how he spent most of his nights, I reconsidered.

“Just had a good time, saw some familiar sights. What happened to you?”

The door to café slammed open, Domino stormed in with a sour expression. She grunted a hello, then slammed her face into a wall. Muffled obscenities came from the mare, followed with several thumps. I gave a worried look to Clean, who shrugged and took a swig from his flask.

“Hey Domino… your coat looks nice,” her lab coat was now outfitted with pads of leather armour and a new knife belt, several of the deadly weapons winking at me as she glared. “Ok, I’ll leave you to it.”

I sidled up to Clean, who was busy with weapon maintenance. I noticed his guns were in perfect condition, even as he cleaned them down. I cautiously asked what was wrong with the mare, when he pointed at the door. With strained ears, I could pick out quiet singing, as well as hooves tapping rhythmically against the ground. Curiosity killed the cat, so I poked my head outside slowly.

Outside stood a brilliant white unicorn, wearing one of the best tailored jackets I had seen in all my life. Gemstones gleamed along the shoulders and mirrored the reflective aviator shades he wore. He continued to sing to himself, counting steps as he swayed from left to right, dancing out a complex tap routine.

As he spun around, he flashed his cutie mark off to the world. I’m fairly sure nopony has ever written two musical notes in that position before. All it did was raise questions about the nature of his talent. His body swerved back, head flicking his golden mane up. The gelled shape held well and moulded to prominently display his horn. His eyes were completely closed to the world, totally lost in the moment of dance.

I gave polite applause as he rounded the song off. He flashed a cheesy grin, as if there were photographers around him, and gave a stage bow.

“A-thank you, thank you very much.”

“That was impressive, but are you sure it’s safe to-”

“Ain’t no need to worry, swinger, know what I’m sayin’? It’s all fine,” A perfectly manicured hoof slapped against my cheek, the owner then wiping it against my suit. “Yeesh, nopony told Two Tone that there’d be a ghoul around. Real bad for business, know what I’m sayin’? Ponies take one sniff and say ‘nu-uh swinger, that don’t fly here’.”

“Isn’t that a shame,” I deadpanned, beginning to understand why the others had found escapes. “So you’re the singer?”

“Singer? Singer?! Two Tone is more than that, fella, know what I’m sayin’?” He rounded on me, backing up and moving to an unheard beat. “Two Tone is the ring-a-ding-ding, one and only, King of the Swing! He’s an experience, fella.”

“Well, this certainly is one,” I replied under my breath. Two Tone seemed indifferent if he did hear me.

He reared up on hindlegs, striking a pose, “It takes more than just a good voice to be a King, baby. You need to own the stage.”

I forced my jaw off the floor, “Did you just thrust at me?!”

“… Wrapped up in the moment. Ghouls do nothing for Two Tone, fella, sorry to say.”

“Dear Luna,” I murmured.

“Then again, Two Tone’s always willing to bounce in any direction. Not sure if there’s a term for it, but caps make the world turn, know what I’m sayin’?” This was all capped with a casual flick down of his shades, giving me a look over. I suddenly felt very naked, even with a suit on.

“Seven circles, CLEAN!” I stormed back inside the café, glaring at the nonchalant unicorn. “First of all, why? Second of all, WHY?!”

“Because and because, zombie,” Clean gave a sly smile. “He’s our best shot at gettin’ into the Golden Gallop, even with his way of bein’.”

“Way of being?! He just pelvic thrusted at me! In the street! In Manehatten!”

“How ‘bout that, he likes you!” Clean chuckled, leaving his work on his shotguns. “Did what you needed to do?”

“Yes! And… yeah, something came up,” I sighed, sitting down and telling them about the run in with Septic Shock. He never mentioned Clean by name, but the coincidences were too big to ignore. My suspicions seemed to pay off, as Clean’s face turned from cold mirth to serious at the mention of the killer’s name.

“And you’re sure 'bout that? Definitely called himself Septic Shock?” he cursed as I nodded, stamping a hoof. “That complicates matters. On the other hoof, won’t know we’ve left here 'til he investigates Tenpony. Give us a small head start.”

“Septic?” Domino gasped, her face had tuned several shades paler. “Fuck, Clean, this is bad.”

“You know him?”

“In a way,” Clean trotted over to the mare, gently stroking her mane. The motions were tender and careful, like a doting father calming his child as the thunder reigned above. Domino seemed truly terrified by the mere name of Pirouette’s killer, a leg intertwined with Clean’s.

The best investigators know when to push, and when to let the evidence come to you. Part of me wanted to open this can right now, find out why Clean had somepony hunting him down, and what their relationship was. From the way he acted, it was clear to see why they were nervous about being caught. That still left a lot of questions open, however.

Septic Shock was most certainly a mercenary, or bounty hunter of some sort. My mind was set on who would hire him, and why would he go to such lengths to find Clean. Maybe there was something bigger to the Magic of Friendship, something that somepony didn’t want Clean to find. As far as we knew, nopony else had made any progress on the search. Maybe there was an outside force preventing such secrets from being dug up.

This wasn’t the time. I made myself busy, checking over our inventory while mulling these thoughts over. I would ask Clean for all the details later, right now living was our priority. I just hoped we’d live long enough to have that talk.

Dear Team Frosting,

Allow me to toot our own horn, but we did fantastic with today’s party! A hearty congratulation from myself and the team leaders, I doubt even Pinkie herself could have pulled that off without a single issue. (Don’t tell her I said that!!)

Additional congratulations to our newest member, Hard Copy, for his first successful party. Great job as the clown today Hard, though we would prefer a little less slapstick for the foals. Funny, yes, but some may have family that have been hurt during the war. We wouldn’t want them to think being hurt is something to laugh at. Thankfully there was no such problem today, but we can’t always get too lucky. I’m sure the rest of you remember the incident with Team Banana Split.

Now with the fun out of the way, it’s time to get down to business. The next party is in planning mode, but it is a cover. Unfortunately, the sweet filly’s father has received a great deal of funds from the Dice crime family. Given their numerous legal operations and businesses, I’d like to give the benefit of the doubt but that’s not what we’re here for.

Once Goliath has obtained the necessary blueprints, we will begin work on plotting the raid during the party. Once again, I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Mr. Copy, we’ll see how good you are at this side of things.

Again, well done all! You’re making a great difference to the lives of ponies all across Equestria. Never forget that!

Sincerely,

Golden Days
Team Leader – Team Frosting

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