“C’mon swinger, you know this one!
She said her name was Sweetie Belle
Voice more sweet than caramel…”

For the uncountable-th time that day, I groaned. I dragged my head along the floor as an alternative to listening to Two Tone’s endless singing, finding that it only brought a sore neck and pebbles in my skin. I’m not sure which made me more aggravated.

Not to say that Two Tone was a bad singer, completely the opposite. His voice was unlike any I had heard, the most delicious of sounds spoon fed into your ears. A gentle massage to the soul, but with the power of a Steel Ranger’s stomp when needed. It ebbed and flowed constantly, brought into emphasis where needed with a volume changing spell he had perfected.

It came from a study of the Royal Canterlot Voice: an ancient method of speaking used by Princess Luna during formal events and early negotiations with our allies. We had already made specialised talismans and gems for increasing volume, but not being able to control it beyond ‘loud’, ‘louder’, and ‘my eardrums have died’. At some point, Two Tone managed to get his hooves on one of these talismans. He was now capable of rendering any speech completely silent with a simple spell or increasing the volume to deafening levels.

Of course, I had heard that story twenty times already. Nearly once a day, every day, since leaving Manehatten.

“Say, fella,” he’d begin. “Two Tone takes a great deal of pride in his talents, know what I’m sayin’? His magic is from years of honed practice, something that an earth pony like yourself couldn’t quite understand. Ya’ll have your craftin’ and other work with your hooves, but that just don’t compare to the kind of things Two Tone and other unicorns can do.”

At this point, his attention would be solely focused on himself, giving me and Domino the opportunity to mime out the whole spiel in a perfect mirror. I’m fairly sure we could recite the whole thing by heart after day five. We turned it into a game quite quickly while on the road.

The journey to Fillydelphia was long and hard. Several times we were delayed by weather or wildlife, great sheets of rain pummelled the ground to remind the citizens of Equestria where they belong: in the cold, in the wet, and in the radiated hell we made. We braved the weather rather than wait it out, knowing that every minute we could gain was vital.

We passed very few ponies in the area, most being already dead. The others we avoided like the plague, too paranoid to consider they could be new friends to allies to our adventures. Common sense ruled the road: neither side would want a confrontation over straying into one another’s firing range, and our strange gathering would attract plenty of attention. Now with a crazed bounty hunter on Clean’s tail, we were all concerned with who we talked to and what about.

Wildlife, on the other hoof, was almost aplenty. Several vile creatures now populated the polluted rivers and watering craters, mostly large bloated insects. A few two headed cows now roamed the roads, one head making idle conversation as we passed. Polite enough, but I couldn’t find myself able to have a decent chat with any of them. Call me a hypocrite, but I was still getting used to what radiation had done to my world. Necrosis is one thing; two heads and snarky remarks is another.

The cows weren’t the only things that had gained an upgrade over the years. What few wild boars existed in Equestria had somehow turned from small, bristly, and full of anger, to massive, hairy, and full of anger. Clean identified them as Radhogs, followed by naming the one that had spotted us as Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner.

Before I could begin to ask what he meant by that, the monster charged our party with a bellow from the depths of hell itself. I scarpered for cover immediately and quaked at the sheer size of the monster. Easily two times the size of pony, with tusks large enough to impale two or three at the right angle, the radhog’s squeals brought forth a rancid stink of tainted flesh. Boils and ulcers popped as it raced towards Clean Sweep who calmly looked the creature over as if it were a child throwing a tantrum. Domino had the sense to move to one side. Two Tone, on the other hoof, sat and watched the display like it was a night at the theatre, though behind his riot shield.

“Y’see,” Clean continued from his brief history of the creatures. “It’s all a bluffin’ game. Radhogs think they’re the toughest, meanest bastards in all the Wastes. Ain’t true, always somethin’ bigger around. Right now, he’s thinkin’ I’m gonna flee so he can chase me 'til I collapse.”

He stepped forwards, casually drawing a shotgun from his holster and lining a shot up, “Now, he’s seen I’m standin’ my ground. This makes him real angry, so he’s gonna start runnin’ harder. He’s lookin’ to gut me on one of those fine weapons.”

The breath caught in my throat as the radhog came within spitting distance of Clean Sweep. It gave another desperate squealing roar, trying to dislodge the unicorn from his cool stance. To the monster’s credit, he did move. As if jumping over a puddle, Clean bounced to one side to dodge the oncoming mass of muscle, bringing the shotgun under the radhog’s skull and filling it with lead.

“Course, blind anger has its drawbacks. Y'blind. It’s in the name.”

My relief at surviving the ordeal soon turned to disgust. I made my way to Two Tone, who watched Clean carefully. He was clearly enjoying the view as the mighty hunter got to work, and leaned against his riot shield for support.

“Swinger’s one hell of shot, know what I’m sayin’? Two Tone’s seen that more times than he can count, still a class A act.”

“He almost got himself killed,” I rumbled.

Two Tone shrugged, flicking a bit of hog away with his magic. “Just doin’ what he needs to, makin’ the best of a bad situation.”

The corpse gave a horrific crack and snap as ribs were broken, swinging open to the air. Practised magic and hoofwork changed the creature into food. A small knife cut away at the thicker cuts of meat. The work looked like an art form. Every movement had purpose, nothing was wasted or exaggerated. It could be considered on par with playing an instrument, or painting a picture, if it weren’t so ghastly. Clean spotted me and seemed to relish in my discomfort, still smirking hours later as we sat at the campfire.

“Been wearin’ that face like it’s goin’ out of style, expectin’ us to keep eatin’ two-hundred year old food?”

“No, just wasn’t expecting meat,” I wrinkled my nose at the smell, too similar to the scent of burning ponies to find it appetising. “We’re not designed to eat it, you know.”

“Needs must,” Domino replied, carefully chewing her portion. “If I was going to choose between ancient food or meat, I’d have to go with the latter.

Two Tone nodded in agreement, sat with an honest to goodness fine china plate and silver ware. He carefully cut and chewed the roasted hog like it was a delicacy served in Canterlot, rather than hastily cooked in the remains of a bus shelter on the outskirts of Fillydelphia.

“Griffins can eat it, we ain’t too different from them,” Clean said. “True, ain’t the best thing for us, but won’t do you good being hungry in a fire fight.”

“How about violently ill?” I sniffed at the glistening carcass.

“Won’t happen with me around.”

Domino affectionately pet the unicorn, tussling his mane. “Best chef in the wastes.”

She earned a glare, Clean scoffing at the remark before tucking back into his meal. Two Tone joined Domino’s gentle laughter, sighing contentedly as we watched the grey day turn into night. After we had eaten our fill, we settled down for the night. Two Tone continued his singing lessons with Domino while Clean scouted the immediate area for anything worth taking on the road ahead.

During these times, I’d scroll through the old messages on the DC-pad. A helpful how-to guide had been finished by the third night. While it was a potent piece of gear, it was a prototype in the end. The device had only five uses of the unlocking function and one had been eaten up while we were in Hoofbeats. The device was, eventually, going to be part of the Ministry’s standard gear. Naturally, ponies would be less than happy if we could carry around devices that allowed us to unlock anything we wanted whenever we wanted. So a token system was put in place, granting a limited number of uses based on the mission we were on.

All of which controlled by Stable-Tech themselves. We had our reasons to keep an eye on Stable-Tech: a lot of odd deals for the land to build the Stables, and a few more unsavoury incidents with builders’ family members. Several had been involved with zebra operations, too many for us to ignore, but usually as victims. Stable-Tech were doing the right thing but imagine the panic from knowing that lead architects and engineers had family captured by zebra forces. Faith in the company would drop like a lead balloon.

Nopony wanted Stables to exist. It represented the worst possibility. None of us honestly believed that such horrible circumstances would actually come about, but fail to prepare, prepare to fail.

As Clean returned, those of us who weren’t fuelled on radiation settled down for the night. I took first watch, as usual. Some nights, it would be the only watch, as I enjoyed the peace and quiet. A chance to read through more stories and reminisce.

I enjoyed these moments most of all, not looking back to escape the wastes, but to accept what had happened. I felt that these little stories should never be forgotten, just like the epics of yesteryear. All our lives are made of these little stories. It does you some good to remember that there is a life behind each one.

“Shit,” Clean spat as he scanned the horizon.

His binoculars floated their way towards his saddlebags, only for Two Tone to catch them in his azure glow. We stood on the second floor of an old house, the carcass of Fillydelphia in the near distance. The blankets scavenged from the beds of others were strewn on the floor. Below us, a small group picked their way through the ruins of the suburb, following a main road towards the once great city.

“What is it?” Domino narrowed her eyes as she looked over the middling distance.

“Slavers,” Two Tone replied, his voice venomous. “Looks like they’ve got a pretty good haul too.”

“We’ll go around the other side, no sen-”

“Did you just say slavers?” I couldn’t stop the horror leaking out in my voice.

Clean nodded with a grim look. “Yeah. No sense in kickin' the hornets’ nest, too many to avoid on the road.”

“I’m going down there.”

Clean rounded on me in one fluid and powerful motion, face pressed against mine as he squared up. Unicorns are, typically, physically weaker than earth ponies, pound for pound at least. Given our current physical conditions, I was very aware he could snap me like a twig.

“Don’t you fuckin’ start zombie, we are not goin’ there.”

“Screw you Clean,” I stomped, ignoring the look from Domino. “I have to do something.”

“Ya'll gonna go around make sure they all get home too? Fuckin’ shoot you now if you want to throw yourself in there, save them the trouble,” Clean snorted, his eyes boring a hole into mine. “Can’t save them, don’t be stupid, don't be a hero. We’re leavin’, that’s that.”

“For what it’s worth, swinger,” Two Tone’s velvet voice floated over. “The King agrees.”

“Thank you Two,” Clean replied, a smug look on his face.

“Was talkin’ to the ghoul.”

I almost heard Clean’s eye twitch as he rounded on the other unicorn. “Mind sayin’ that again?”

“Gotta do somethin’, those fellas are headin’ same way we are. Two Tone doesn’t want to run into them again later, know what I’m sayin’?”

To his credit, Two Tone didn’t even flinch at the pony shaped fury that stared at him. If anything, he looked slightly bored by the whole situation, like he had just found out that his label was showing on his jacket. I took the opportunity to check my pistol over and get it set in my mouth. At least I couldn’t back chat Clean any more.

“Dom, opinion.”

She carefully weighed up the choices, bouncing her mane a little. “We won’t gain anything from it, and it’ll be a risk, but if they are going to Filly we could run into them again. If we’re going to do something about them, we do it now or hope that we don’t bump into them again.”

“Swinger, Two Tone understands where you’re comin’ from, he really does. Risky, eats into our time, could invite all kinds of trouble. But, heroics aside, if those ponies see us, they’ll sell us out quicker than you can blink, know what I'm sayin'? Even if we're only seen by them, we're a pretty memorable group.”

Our, for want of a better word, leader glared at Two Tone and me before grunting. He floated his two weapons out and nodded once.

“Fine. You, lead.”

I took us through the rubble as quickly and quietly as possible. We slowly gained on the caravan of slavers, the sounds of whips cracking and general shouting helping disguise our noise. It was impressive that nothing else had come to investigate the cacophony, but maybe other things knew better. Made me worry about what kind of territory we were going in to.

Five minutes later, I finally had eyes on the gang. Eight ponies, most of them earth ponies, trotted around two large cages on carts. Each one was pulled by a slave, walking in a dazed state. Inside was a sorry sight. Caked in their own filth, ponies of all ages. Most of them weren’t old enough to have their cutie marks, what few adults there were stood as sentinels against the whips and insults of their captors. Long, bloody lashes were present on their bodies, oozing infected blood.

“Still sure ‘bout this, hero?” Clean whispered. I glared at him in response, biting down the anger. “The two pullin’ the carts will be drugged up to hell. There ain’t much we can do for ‘em now. I’m countin’ enough ranged weaponry to ruin our day ten times over, and that’s just what I can see.”

“Clean,” Domino hissed. “Either make a plan or shut up, you’re not helping.”

Two Tone risked a quiet chuckle, “Got you there, swinger.”

“Go find a pole and sit on it, Two, you got us in this mess too. 'Sides, command’s been given to the ghoul.”

“Why am I calling the shots?”

“So I have somethin’ to gloat over when we end up in Tirek’s pleasure palace.”

I rolled my eyes, turning my attention to the situation instead of the foal-like bickering between Two and Clean. I slowly began to build a picture in my head. Several scenes of us being shot to pieces ruled out diplomacy, so it would be a stealthy hit and run. Outnumbered two to one, but that was before we opened the cage. I nodded, taking out goody number one: a silencer.

Now, a silencer is a wonderful piece of gear in the Ministry Agent’s armoury. A barrel extension that can attach to the end of the standard issue 10mm pistol, a slightly modified version of the Ironshod design. The barrel itself does nothing. Inside lies a small gemstone, charged with a sound absorption spell. The gem stores up to two hundred standard shots worth of sound before stress fractures begin to appear. Any more past this, all that sound comes out at once.

Pretty cool, right? One of the best things we reverse engineered from the zebra infiltration forces.

“Clean, you see the one on the far right? One ear, bandolier and the great fashion accessories?”

“See ‘em.”

“I can see a grenade belt on them, think you can pull the pin to freak them out?”

Clean gave an affirmative grunt, moving forward in near silence. They weren’t the steady, confident moves of a trained soldier or agent. More like a prowling predator: a cat stalking a mouse. Another difference to add to the list. Being stealthy had been part of the job for me, Clean, on the other hoof, had done this a necessity to survive.

“Domino, back left, closest to us. Try to take her out without the others noticing first, then work on finding the keys.”

“I don’t think I can do it without alerting somepony,” she whispered. “They’re too close together.”

“Damn, I need confusion.”

“A distraction, fella?” Two Tone offered. “Don’t think there’s a pony in these wastes that can outshine the King of the Swing.”

I studied Two Tone, his eyes still hidden behind reflective shades. “You sure you can do that? And stay safe?”

Two scoffed, flicking his tail in my face as he moved past. “Ain’t Two Tone’s first rodeo, he can take care of himself. Watch and learn, fella.”

He bounced away, moving to overtake our target. Domino slipped away. She had none of the animal grace of Clean but managed to stay out of sight we advanced. I grumbled at the taste of old mouthgrip again, moving up to match the other two.

I had to blink twice to believe my eyes as the convoy came to a standstill. Wincing at the bursts of lights, I picked out the distinct sound of trumpets building up. Standing in the middle of the road, with a five-mile smile and his perfect white suit glistening against the horn-made beams of light, Two Tone posed with all the flair of the ponies of old.

I don’t think that description did justice to how jaw dropping this sight was.

“Good evening, my little ponies, figured you folks on the road could do with a little entertainment,” his voiced bounced across the rubble, the volume enough to carry to everyone but stopping short of painful.

“Here’s entertainment. Skewer, pop ‘im,” a slaver mare spat, her companion firing off two shots from his pistol.

The air around Two Tone flushed blue as another layer appeared on his horn. His riot shield whirled around to catch the shots. The reinforced material cracked and splintered from the hits. Two kept his cool demeanour, flicking his shield to one side as it began to self repair, and slowly approached the slavers. The sounds of guns being removed from holsters greeted him.

“Now now swingers, Two Tone’s just wantin’ to put on a show. Maybe you good folks could put a good word to your boss, know what I’m sayin’?”

“Riiight, so what’s stopping us from hitting you with a Mesmer and carting you off with a nice new collar?” Skewer called out, gobbing on the floor.

“You’d do such a thing to the King of the Swing?” Two Tone pouted, flicking his shades down as he gazed at each of the slavers in turn. “That would be a cryin’ shame. You swingers look like the types of ponies who’d know a thing or two about havin’ a good time, and Two Tone knows some of you personally, he’s sure of it.”

The slavers looked to each other, each puzzled by the comment. A few began to murmur, ignoring the slaves as they cowered in terror of events outside. I couldn’t blame them and only could only hope they’d forgive just a little more terror in a few moments.

Clean’s horn lit up as I moved in closer, lining up my shot. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Domino’s dance of death. With a knife clenched between her teeth, she swung her full body weight at the hindlegs of the slaver. The slaver managed a mewl of surprise, only for Domino’s hoof to slam into her jaw. The bone snapped shut, a small flash of pink and spray of red as the tip of the slaver’s tongue flew into the air. Domino dug into the back of the skull with the knife. I didn’t need to see the hoof stomp that hammered the weapon in.

One of the capture ponies shrieked, a foal from the pitch. Heads turned towards Domino as everything else lurched into motion. My silent shot sent a bullet into the head of Skewer, a red mist bursting out. A lucky shot, I was aiming for the body.

Three grenade pins freed themselves from another slaver’s belt and dangled in front of the owner. She struggled to remove the belt until the explosions tore her to pieces. The remaining pieces of hot metal sliced into two more slavers around her corpse, the pair howling from the explosion burns.

Shouts went up as the remaining three spun around. The largest of them kicked their battle saddle into gear. Two automatic rifles sent dirt up around Domino as she ran for cover. The shots turned rapidly as Clean dove into the convoy, cracking his shotgun against the hindlegs of the shooter. I chased after, firing off two rounds at the nearest slaver.

The scarred unicorn growled as one found her shoulder and swung a baseball bat, of all things, at me. I rolled under the swing and brought a hoof up to her throat. My vision swam into red stars as a second bat slammed into my head. I danced as I fought to stay conscious, only to take another three hits to my body.

Pain exploded from the blunt impacts, spreading across my aching bones. Bit of advice to you all, never let yourselves get this skeletal. Ponies have this lovely layer of muscle and fat to get in the way of bumps and scraps. Imagine banging your knee on a table, only the knee is your spine and the table is three pounds of Hickory wielded by an angry unicorn. Then the table starts bashing your face in.

“Fucking zombie cunt!” she growled, cutting into a shriek as I managed to squeeze a shot off.

I didn’t see where I hit her. The fact that I had was enough to break the assault. I reached out and grabbed a leg, pulling her towards me while bringing myself to my hooves. Enough red had gone for me to see shapes, so I aimed for the most nose-like.

I pummelled blow after blow into her face, feeling it change shape between the cries and swearing. Another blow to the head sent me sprawling. It felt like my eyes had been knocked loose as they rolled to focus, landing on the now bloodied slaver. She lay panting in the dirt, painted in flecks of her own blood and teeth. She spat out another tooth.

We both looked up as we heard the boom of a shotgun. Masculine screams came from Clean’s foe as his ruined leg collapse beneath him, bone poking out from torn muscle. He gave a few pitiful pleads as Clean reloaded. More crying came from another slaver, who begged for Domino to get off him. The last two slavers, still stunned by the first grenade, groaned at the sounds.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!” my foe screeched, whistling through the gaps. “Who the fuck are you?!”

Clean finished reloading and casually moved his shotgun to the head of his target. The slaver squirmed on the ground, flicking his head left and right and snorting at the two barrels.

“Splinter! H-help! N-no, oh please nononono!”

A single bang. Clean spat at the corpse, wiping blood off him. “Show some fuckin’ dignity when you die, prick.”

Domino moved over to join him. Her opponent gurgled as blood ran from the wound in their neck. The two quickly finished the wounded slavers, Domino stabbing into the base of their skulls with a hard stomp. She wore an expression like the big bags had just split: grim duty.

“Oh shit, oh shit!” the last slaver cried, staggering to her hooves.

She swung her bats at me once again in desperation. A riot shield caught them neatly, deflecting the blows with hollow thuds. Two Tone took a powerful stance between me and my attacker, glaring at her.

“Fuck this!” she shouted, throwing the bats at us as she took off.

She managed a whole five meters before the first carriage of now freed slaves descended on her. Two Tone blocked the sights as he helped me up, but not the wet crunches as she was trampled upon. His face was full of concern as he looked me over, horn flicking away the dirt from my suit.

“You ok? Took a few hits there, slugger. Need patchin’ up?”

“No. No, I’m fine. Domino, do you have the other keys?” I caught the key chain as she threw it over.

The slaves in the second cart had pressed themselves against the far side, glaring at me as I approached. Between them and the slavers themselves, the slaves stared more daggers. The cage swung open. I gave my best smile at the ponies huddled inside, motioning for them to leave.

“It’s ok, it’s all over now.”

I didn’t expect them to immediately warm up to me, maybe a few concerned looks and hesitation to come out. I certainly didn’t expect one of them to tackle me to the ground and hold a knife to my throat. We struggled until Clean pulled him off me, throwing him to one side.

“Fuck’s your problem?” he roared at the ex-slave. “He ain’t pony eatin’, else I’d have shot him ages back.”

“You stay away!” the stallion bellowed back, motioning for the others in the cage to take their leave. “Stay the fuck back!”

My bones gave protest as I stood back up, the aches and bruises from the earlier beating coming in as the adrenaline wore off. I placed a hoof forwards and hesitated. All I could see was fear in the pony’s eyes. I had seen this kind of fear before, many, many times. He was hopelessly outgunned and outnumbered, but he would fight us all if we made the wrong move.

Back in the Ministry days, I could talk him out of it. Convince him that, in the greater scheme of things, it was better for all if he let us do what we could. Now I was mostly corpse, I doubted that I would make anything better.

“Hold on now, swinger, Two Tone ain’t lookin’ to hurt ya’ll, know what I’m sayin’?” Two Tone moved slowly towards the twitchy pony, lifting a hoof slowly.

“BACK OFF!”

“Where are you goin’ swinger? You have a plan? A home? All Two Tone wants to do is help you, understand me?”

“Yeah, I understand you. Lead us right into another slaver camp, what do you take us for?” the cart now stood empty, the poor pony pulling it carried between two others. “You stay right there, with that fucking monster, and don’t move a fucking muscle.”

Two Tone nodded. True to his word, he remained perfectly still as the group of slaves backed away from the scene. We watched carefully until they had all slipped from sight, all remaining silent. The other freed slaves began to pick the corpses of gear, pointing the newly acquired weapons at us until they took off. Clean was the first to break the silence, sighing as he looked over the mess we had made.

“Well, that was a bust. Go team,” he waved his shotgun as a flag, locking eyes with me. “You hurt?”

“Just a few whacks with a baseball bat, could be worse.”

“Good. Waste of ammo and time. Didn’t even stick around to thank you, fuckin’ typical,” Clean snorted, kicking the corpse of a slaver. “This is why we don’t help, understand?”

“It was the right thing to do.”

“Sometimes, the right thing to do isn’t the right thing to do,” Domino said quietly. “We won this time, but next time we might not be so lucky.”

Night had fallen over Equestria. We spent the rest of the day marching double time, playing catch up for the lost time and putting as much distance between us and the slavers. I’d like to say how every step was agony, yet I braved it all in grim, cool silence. It did hurt. Hurt like hell, and I was very vocal about it.

Clean gave me no sympathy. Every grumble and groan came with a reminder that I was to blame for it. The bickering came to an end when we settled down for the night. We spotted the signs for a recharging station a few miles away, knowing that it would be the last stop before we dug into the belly of Fillydelphia. Outside lay the husks of pony and wagon, eternal watchers of the road they once walked.

I managed to push myself into drinking the ancient tap water inside, Domino mentioning that it was often too irradiated to drink safely. I took that as an opportunity to guzzle it down like it was the last water in the world. The pain subsided with each gulp, the strange zebra magics that had infected me knitting the sore bruises back together.

Made me wonder how balefire had been discovered by the tribes. Did they know it would have this effect on ponies? Or was it just fate playing a strange hand with life? I hope that one day somepony could tell me the answer to that, more out of sating curiosity. My brief time at Craterside had helped me come to terms with the unlife I now had, I wasn’t exactly scared. More like a low key nervousness.

Myself and Two Tone rested by the remains of the campfire inside the small café next to the refuelling station, sharing sips from his hipflask. I was impressed that ponies had continued to brew their own alcohol. I mean, of all the things to continue production, it was on my top ten. It also helped me discover that it was going to take a lot more to get me drunk.

I pulled another swig, enjoying the burn. “He can be a real prick sometimes, Two. He’s never called me by my name, not once.”

“Ain’t that big a thing,” Two Tone dismissed with a snort.

“It’s a big thing to me. Takes away my identity, makes me feel less like a pony.”

“He’s just distancin’ himself, swinger, wouldn’t take what he says to heart. That pony’s seen some real bad shit over the years.”

“Haven’t we all?” I scoffed.

“Can’t agree there, swinger,” Two Tone shrugged. “Lived a life of luxury compared to him, know what I’m sayin’? Two Tone, I mean, not you. That pony’s been through the worst of the world, and walked out breathin’. Impressed he ain’t more unhinged.”

“I guess. Still doesn’t forgive his attitude.”

“Comin’ from the groanin’ dead?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Swinger, you’re not from here. Haven’t seen what we’ve seen, done what we do, you’ve barely lived a day in our horseshoes yet you’re real keen to pick on Clean,” Two Tone’s expression softened. “Heart’s in the right place, but it takes more than heart, know what I’m sayin’? Gotta play by the waste’s rules. Two Tone knows this is tough to swallow, but this ain’t your home any more. It’s ours.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that. I let the words trickle through me, working their way through my head as I took them in and digested them. Two Tone’s expression changed to one of concern and he gave my shoulder a friendly tap.

“Two Tone likes heart, swinger, but he likes ponies who stay alive more. Hell, he agreed to go down there too! He had faith in you, in Domino and in Clean. Have some faith in him too, know what I’m sayin’?”

“I’ll give you that one, Two,” I allowed a smile to appear, and took the next swig happily.

“He’s changed since Two Tone first met him,” Two Tone sighed, looking over at Clean’s sleeping form. “Wouldn’t do what we did today back then.”

“In what way?”

“He’d just have killed you outright, swinger. Used to take no shit from nopony,” Two chuckled fondly. “Why, he saved Two Tone’s flank just because of it.”

I used my favourite facial expression, then remembered my lack of eyebrows. “How? What happened?”

Two Tone waved a hoof away, “Another time, swinger, but Two Tone knows what changed him.”

He pointed to Domino, her head nuzzled against Clean’s chest. The two lay in synchronised breathing, leaning against one another in perfect bliss. A wonderful sight, even taking in account the impressive kill counts the two had racked up this day alone. A warm feeling blossomed inside me.

“Ever since he met her, or at least spent more time with her, he’s been a new stallion,” Two said with a smile. “Mares can do that, know what I’m sayin’?”

“Yeah,” I said after a moment’s hesitation. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“You have somepony, swinger?” Two rested his head on crossed hooves, looking over the dying embers of our fire. He eyed the flask and tucked it away into his saddlebags.

I clicked my tongue, hesitating for a moment. “Not anymore.”

I felt him tapping my leg, a look of empathy in his eyes. “Alright, swinger. Two Tone won’t pry. If there’s one thing he knows, it’s love. Can be painful, real painful at times.”

“Thanks. Yeah, thanks for understanding,” I nodded, feeling a little more certain about myself. “You?”

“Heh, had more mares than you’ve had birthdays, swinger,” he had a twinkle in his eye, winking at me. “Including the ones you missed.”

“No way. No! Really?” I chuckled as he nodded.

“From Fillydelphia to Stalliongrad, Appleloosa to Baltimare, even brief fling in Hoofinton,” Two Tone tapped his shield, the letters HPD stencilled on it. “Two Tone’s seen and done a whole lotta lovin’.”

“I’d say, you’re giving me a run for my money. I’ve never been to half of those places.”

“Should go some time. Long journey, but worth it, know what I’m sayin’?” He smiled, suddenly looking a great deal wearier and older. “Two Tone sometimes wonders what those girls are up to now.”

“You ever keep in touch?”

He snorted, “Not for want of tryin’, swinger. Two Tone tried trackin’ a few down when he was younger, fitter. Never led anywhere good.”

I chuckled at the thought, pausing as I looked to his shield again. “You know, you talk about keeping alive, but I haven’t seen you pull one weapon out yet. That seems a bit hypocritical, right?”

“Huh, Two Tone never saw it that way. Like he said, he grew up in a life of luxury. Didn’t see the wastes until he was twenty, ancient for most folk, know what I’m sayin’? Didn’t take to the whole ‘kill or be killed’ philosophy, thought he could just avoid conflict as best he could. He’s a taker of hearts, not of lives.”

I chuckled at the thought. For all his bluff and bluster, Two Tone was a good soul under it all. While he seemed to think himself above others, it was out of protection rather than malice. He didn’t want to connect to anyone. It seemed it was a running theme in this small group, we were just tolerating each other’s company for our own gains.

“You’re a good pony, swinger.”

Two Tone’s sleepy comment brought me back to the real world. “What do you mean by that?”

“Savin’ those slaves. Don’t matter if they make it or not, if they’re scared of you or not, if Clean’s mad at you or not, you did good. Don’t forget it,” Two opened a sleepy eye, locking with mine. “Goes a bit against what Two Tone said earlier, but he means it. Makes him think that maybe, just maybe, ponies could change what they’ve done for years. May not feel like, but you’re makin’ things a little better. Could all do with a little better.”

Two Tone gave me a pleased look as the smile grew on my face, and then slipped off into sleep content. I was alone in the darkness of the wastes, listening to a distant wind howl through the open windows of our shelter. Domino shivered in her sleep, mumbling something. Clean instinctively pulled her closer and moved his head to guard her neck. The murmuring stopped as the demons were warded off.

I silently slipped outside. The door closed behind me, keeping the building’s temporary residents safe for the night, and left me in the cold night air. Pony skeletons lay like the living inside, locked in their eternal sleep. I paused as I looked over them. Maybe I passed this pegasus once upon a time. Maybe I saw them dropping a delivery off so many years ago.

I blew the thought away with a huff of air. Even if I did know them, it wasn’t important now. They were a part of the old world, I was a part of the new. I moved over to the overlook, gazing over the limping Equestria in the darkness of a covered night. My eyes were drawn to the cloud cover

I wanted to see stars again. Of all the things I missed, the sky was the biggest. To see the sun rise and set and the sister moon endlessly chase after. To see blue skies with dotted clouds, drifting forgotten by the weather teams. To see the gentle twinkling lights shine down upon the rolling hills and paved streets.

Once upon a time, when I was very little, my father would let me sit on the roof of our house to stargaze. We would have a blanket, plenty of hot cocoa, an old telescope, and all the time in the world. We spent lifetimes gazing up at the night sky, finding the old constellations and making new ones in our head. We’d hope there was a shooting star that night. We’d look for Princess Luna raising the moon. We’d stay up until the sun tore away the black night.

I remember stargazing the day he died. I remember looking up after the funeral and wondering where he was now. Was he up in the stars, looking down on me, just like the ponies of old? Did he see what happened to our home? The war, the spells?

I hope not.

Another huff. I stopped stargazing once I was part of the Ministry. Manehatten was afflicted with a condition called light pollution, a strange sickness that only the largest of cities suffered. Such life and vibrancy in one place meant that we couldn’t see past the tallest skyscrapers. There was no sense of wonder and curiosity beyond the next block, especially with the war on.

I gave a cautious yawn. I wasn’t tired, but I felt it necessary. A reminder that I was still alive. Not surviving, alive. I thought, I expressed, I acted. I did some good today day, so I let the feeling of pride fill me.

“Aren’t we doing well?” my head snapped around, feeling anger replace pride as the harlequin sat in a wooden booth. “Hard Copy, strolling into town and saving emotionally distressed fillies, one party at a time. What a guy!”

With a wave of its hoof, the words Ghoul Psychiatrist Booth: 5 caps appeared on the top, “The doctor is in, here to help all your gloomy ghoul needs!”

Again, its voiced chopped and changed through genders, ages, tones and accents. Every hesitation bringing a new persona. The half comedy, half tragedy mask twitched as it turned to look at me. Bells joyfully shattered the peace of the night, jingling with every twitch and movement. At least this appearance hadn’t involved anything distressing. Yet.

“You never told me your name, and Creepy Clown makes me feel very silly,” I paced towards it, looking around in case something else appeared. “So does talking to myself come to think of it.”

“Silly names are a great way to run away from your problems,” the masked pony stuck its hoof out. “Of course, we know all about your coping mechanisms. Remember, drugs are not your friends. Five caps for the advice.”

“If you know me, then you know it’s been a long time since then.”

The creature popped out of existence, reappearing in front of me with a teleporting pop. “Time is relative. As are a lot of things, in the grand scheme.”

I took the opportunity to slam my hoof into its face, sending the harlequin flying. Its body landed with a thump, twitching at the odd angle of its neck. To one side, I heard polite applause as an earth pony version appeared on its haunches. It gave me a score of ten.

“That was deserved.”

It shrugged, “If you say so. Whatever makes you feel better. Though I think violence shouldn’t always be the answer, that’s the go to around here.”

“For good reason at times,” my mind snapped to Septic Shock and the slavers. “For all I want to help these ponies, there are some that are past it.”

“Oh yes, don’t we know it,” its voiced shifted to the insane unicorn. “I deserve to die because I killed your friend, even though you know nothing about her. Eye for an eye makes it all ok.”

“You’re taunting me over that? Find a short pier and take a long walk off it.”

“Oooh, gallows humour, that’s new!” the harlequin moved past me, taking a seat by the remains of a delivery cart. It looked out over the wastelands, staring at where the eternally cloudy sky met the dismal remains of the ground. An endless horizon of scorched earth and everything just clinging on to what little life was left.

“What did you expect? This isn’t my Equestria, have to adapt the material,” against my better judgement, I sat next to the pony. “It would take a lot of parties to make this better.”

“Maybe, but that’s not a bad thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are lots and lots of parties to be had. Some are the super exciting ones with lots of explosions and ponies turning into confetti!” it giggled deliriously, kicking hindlegs up. “And some are the fun ones with lots of cake and actual partying!”

I’m not sure what expression I had, but I think it was somewhere between cartoon jaw drop and actual shock. I had no real understanding of what this pony was, what it meant that I could see it and talk to it. Was I talking to myself? It wasn’t unheard of in the Ministry for stress to reach that point, and I had been under insane levels of stress.

But now it had opinions that, maybe somewhere inside, I had too. Coping mechanisms with the insane levels of death and brutality that I was once so distant from, now thrust into. The battlefield wasn’t on a sheet of paper, it was here.

The harlequin giggled at whatever face I was pulling. “Even with all this death and nastiness, I like you, Hard. This place is messed up, but at least you’re making ponies smile again.”

“If you’re impressed, then why did you just poke fun at me for doing it? The whole routine back there.”

The harlequin shrugged, pointing out at the decaying home of ponykind. “You’re trying, and you make me laugh. That’s more than what most ponies are doing these days.”

It picked up a skull from nowhere, flapping the jawbone like a mock puppet. “The ponies here aren’t half as much fun as the ones from the war, they’ve just given up. The same old cruel routines, especially those raider ponies. Even a cruel joke is still a joke, and they seem to think that shock humour is all they can use.”

“You say this like you’ve been watching this all for a while now,” a frown came on, as I tried to wrap my head around what it was saying. “Just what are you? Are you in my head or something else?”

The harlequin shrugged, “I dunno, but you’re the only pony I’ve got to talk to in such a long time. Not for want of trying.”

“You know things, you sound like ponies that you couldn’t have met, you controlled a hallucination or a dream. How can you do all of this?”

Again, the harlequin shrugged, its shoulders dropping. Up until now, it had a body shape that was neither stallion or mare, lingering in between. Now it had changed to a mare’s, the body shrinking to fit. Even its voice turned to something that felt familiar somewhere inside, but I couldn’t put a hoof on how or why.

“I just can, I don’t understand it either. I just want ponies to be happy and smile, but sometimes that takes them down nasty roads. Then I started taking them down those nasty roads too.”

Part of me wanted to give the poor creature a hug, to try and comfort it a little. Another shrank back in horror at the implications. “You don’t want to do this.”

“I just want to hear them laugh. No matter what,” the mask twitched as it turned towards me, moving to an angle I was uncomfortable to look at. “I can see that in you, Hard.”

My throat bobbed, trying to swallow something that wasn’t there. “See what?”

“Laughter,” the harlequin giggled. “You know, I’ve just realised. You can’t spell slaughter without it! Wonder if that was supposed to happen…”

Between blinks, the harlequin had vanished. The wind moaned through gaping windows, cutting itself against the broken glass. I joined the listless noise, adding my sigh to the air. I added a deep breath, straightened out my suit and stood up. For all its weird rambling, I could agree with the harlequin on one thing.

The wastes could do with a little more smiling.

Hey team,

I’ll keep this short, it’s good and bad news. Good news is we managed to cut off the supply chain. The raid is considered a success and we’re one step closer in building a solid case against the Dice. Pat yourselves on the backs teams, we’ve done good.

Additionally, the officer is making a full recovery. Thanks again goes to Gadget for her quick thinking and excellent piloting skills with the Spritebot. If it weren’t for you, that would be more innocent blood spilled in the name of security and safety. I’ll be passing your name to Pinkie herself in recognition for your actions.

And now, the bad news. While we’ve gained a step forwards against the Dice, we’re two steps back. The prisoner we took in has already been subjected to memory removal. We’re not sure who did it, or why they did it, but it’s set our work back considerably. Be cautious, we need hard evidence more than ever now – let’s not have another building catch fire.

Let’s not stop here, keep working hard team!

Goliath

Level up!

New Perk: (S)Laughter – With all the grimness of the wastes, what’s wrong with finding some deaths a little funny? Your attacks will do more damage, and some deaths will be a little more exciting than others. And by exciting, read 'gruesome'.