My hindleg flew up in a perfectly modelled kick, forelegs coming up as I shifted my weight. Two quick jabs, followed by a low sweep, back to a neutral stance, drop down to a low stance, rising uppercut. I halted at the peak of the blow… and used my hindleg to turn the page. The next pattern brought a grumble and I closed the book instead.

Somewhere, water dripped from a broken pipe. Each drop struck the edge of a steel bar, the rusting tip sticking out of the remains of concrete. A unicorn’s skull hung from the bar, the bone broken where it had been pierced. If it was any consolation for them, they didn’t see what killed them. I imagined their desperate, heroic moments like a movie, helping their loved ones run to safety. Anything was better than reality.

It wasn’t easy listening to Clean’s screams. Despite Two’s efforts, the unicorn couldn’t concentrate on reducing the noise and fixing the damage done to our leader, so I sat on guard while he worked away in the dim light of a lantern, carefully watching the sleeping form of Domino as she twitched and shivered. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise she was out cold.

We were still too close to the Golden Gallop for my liking, only five or so blocks away. Every gunshot made us flinch and peek out of the single window we allowed ourselves, desperately hoping that the suits or patrons hadn’t got their heads together to chase after us yet. Tucked inside a leaning skyscraper, we took what shelter we could to work on the wounded.

I could feel the soft tingle of radiation work on my body, feeling thankful for my body’s ability to turn something so deadly into a source of healing. The stab wound had started to scar and scab, but the top half of my ear was long gone. Not that I was going to complain too much: half an ear is better price to pay than my head.

To prevent utter boredom, I started learning the patterns described in Martial Arts of the Zebras. The old movies had done their research; I had seen many of these movements before, so copying them wasn’t too difficult a task. Then again, copying a film and a book is nothing compared to using it in a real fight.

That said, I was now a mask and a dragon tattoo away from becoming Iron Hoof. That’s pretty cool, right?

The screams turned into whimpers as Two exited the operating room, some pony’s bedroom. He sighed and gave me a grim nod, taking a long drink from a water bottle. I could see the cracks on his lips and reminded myself of how hard Two was pushing himself.

“He’ll make it, swinger’s got life in him.”

“I’m sensing a but here, Two. What else?”

His larger than life personality had taken a backseat for the past few hours. Without the shades, Two Tone looked ancient. Haggard eyes were rimmed with bags and his mane had lost all the lustre from the sweat and effort, yet he still managed the same air of confidence.

“But there ain’t much Two Tone can do here. Need more potions, painkillers, bandages, anythin’ swinger. Ideally, Buck. At least until we get to a real doctor, know what I’m sayin’?”

“Where’s the nearest?” the desperation couldn’t be hidden. “How far?”

Two waved a hoof for me to calm down, despite his own quickening breaths. “Take it easy, swinger, take it easy. Nearest one that won’t kill us is out of Fillydelphia. Two Tone has more work to do before we can move him, he ain’t a doctor but Clean ain’t movin’ an inch. That and Two Tone can’t work on him while he’s screamin’ and cursin’.”

“Just means he’s alive,” I said, feeling a little worried after at the grim humour.

“They teach you that during the war, swinger?”

I shook my head. “Never trained for real combat, just small firefights. We had Ministry of Peace staff on standby to save us.”

“Real lucky, real lucky,” Two Tone’s snort turned into a cough. I gave his back a good thump, which he seemed thankful for, and sighed. Something had been walking around my mind since we had left the casino, worming away inside my head.

“Hey Two, what do you think Devil Luck was on about?”

“You mean what got Clean so spooked? No clue, swinger,” Two Tone sat against a wall, gently massaging his horn. “That pony’s got more secrets than a mare’s bedroom, know what I’m sayin’?”

“But a raider wannabe? Is that a bad thing to call somepony?”

Two Tone scoffed. “Raiders are the worst of the worst, swinger, barely able to call them a pony. Clean’s worlds apart from them. He’s done bad things, sure, but he ain’t a raider. No way on this earth could he be.”

“Not like we’ll find out soon. Devil’s dead,” I frowned, examining my hooves. “Flat as a pancake.”

Every kill affects you, in some way. Sometimes it was the motivation behind the killing, could it have been prevented? Did I do everything I could have to stop it? Other times, it was the realisation that there could have been a family behind the pony. Were they fighting to protect their home? Would there be children asking where their parent or sibling had gone?

It troubled me that I found Devil Luck’s death funny.

“Nasty way to go, but ain’t like he didn’t deserve it, swinger,” Two Tone’s comment broke my stare. “Despite what he was sayin’ about Clean, that pony was a real piece of shit. Doin’ what he did to those girls, ain’t right swinger, ain’t right.”

“What did he do?” I asked, Two Tone being cut off as a new noise joined us.

Domino gave a soft groan as she started to wake. I learned from Two Tone that most of her wounds were stabs and slices, as well as one particularly nasty gunshot to the flank. Thankfully they weren’t beyond the power of a healing potion or two, but the painkillers helped with the deeper wounds. I helped her sit up and drink down some water, her eyes bleary and dry.

“Urg, feel like shit,” her voice came raspy and dry, and she coughed hard afterwards. “Hard, where’s Clean? How is he?”

“Take it easy, you took one hell of beating. How are you feeling? Need anything?”

“No, no, Clean?”

“How’re you Two Tone? Oh, Two’s fine, thank you swinger,” Two mumbled to himself, blowing out a laugh as Domino smiled apologetically. “Honestly, swinger, Clean’s… ok. He needs better care than Two Tone can give him.”

“What can we do?” Domino pushed me away as she sat up, wincing and rubbing at the new scars.

“Not much we can, need to get him on his hooves to get some real help, know what I’m sayin’? Was sayin’ to Hard, we need medicine. Any kind of drug we can get our hooves on. Anaesthetic if you can, swingers.”

Domino came to life, moving at a dangerous speed for somepony in her condition. “Anaesthetic?! Why?”

“Bullet’s buried somewhere important, Two Tone can’t go working into that without something to numb the pain, swinger,” Two carefully removed Domino from his suit. “If we want to stay hidden, Two Tone needs quiet, know what I’m sayin’? He ain’t getting’ it right now and won’t be without something on hoof.”

“There is a way,” I said quietly. “The memory orbs.”

Two Tone went wide eyed at the suggestion, while Domino frowned. “What do you mean?”

“When you’re in the memory, you only feel what the host felt. Anything could be happening to your body and you’d never know, bit of a drawback but it was for the desk rather than field work,” I said, remembering the first time I wore a Recollector. Being a mare for twenty minutes was eye opening and very uncomfortable.

“But is it safe?” Domino pressed.

“Depends,” Two Tone said around the lip of his bottle. “If he wakes up halfway into Two Tone’s work, it won’t be pretty. Be lucky if the swinger doesn’t die from shock, know what I’m sayin’?”

“How long can you put it off?” I asked. “A day? Two days? A week? It could be ages until Domino’s fit enough for a real search for supplies, Two.”

Two Tone stuttered before a moment, then gave a defeated shrug. The pressure was getting to him. As he said, he was not a doctor by any stretch of the word. Septic’s final shot had damaged Clean’s spine, meaning that any kind of work to it would have to be done by a professional. Two had enough skill to help the situation enough for an expert to take a proper look at it, but the wrong move would mean the end of Clean’s walking days.

During peacetime, this was an unfortunate situation. In the wasteland, it was a death sentence.

“Whatever it takes,” Domino said. “I’m sure Clean will agree.”

Her conviction must have touched a nerve in Two Tone, as his mane seemed to gain more bounce as he stood back up. The stress of that decision weighed heavily on his shoulders and, now that weight was lifted, he could get back to being himself once more. The two entered our operating room, and I was alone once again.

Somepony once said you find yourself in times of solitude. I reckon that pony never had ponies to be around to start with, it’s mind numbingly dull being alone with others nearby. I turned back to the new pattern and started the warm ups.

A bassline thumps through the subwoofers, drowning out the cheers of the crowd. My hooves dance across the turntable in an intricate dance and play with the multitude of dials to squeeze out that perfect sound. Headphones rest against one ear as I time the build and bring the honey-sweet vocals of Sweetie Belle into play.

I risk a look at the audience. They mill and move in perfect synchronisation, directed by a manic pink mare as she bounces with the energy of twenty ponies half her age. Who knows what she was once capable of with moves like that?

The alcohol is sweet on my tongue, the burn far more intense from the powdered Mint-Al heightening my sense of taste. It brings greater ideas, new ways to keep this feeling up, to pump the crowds into even more obscene highs of emotion and love. I see nothing but smiles to match my own, a sea of white teeth and endless joy.

The ultimate party.

A white mare with a blue mane stands by me, working her own table as she takes over for the night. We bump hooves as I take my bow, the crowd roaring and begging for an encore but my time is done. Now to enjoy myself a little more.

I melt into the crowd and receive well earned praise. The hooves propel me towards the bar where a drink is waiting for me. The green liquid sloshes around, almost glowing in the blacklight, and is easy to drink down. As the second round. And the third.

A green mare now approaches with a giant stallion in tow. We hug and exchange laughter. The mare is a unicorn, one of the most talented I have ever met. The stallion is the kindest pony I have ever met, more selfless than the idea of selflessness. The two share a kiss. It is not the drunken kiss of strangers, but that of two ponies deeply in love with one another. I feel an emotion stirring deep inside my chest.

It is warm, like that of pride, yet with a frosty edge. I feel jealous. I want a love like that, but I am afraid. What am I afraid of? Rejection? Acceptance? I look around for a way to numb the pain.

The cocktail waiting for me at the bar looks too inviting. A blend of all my vices: the first cigarette on top of my home, the small tablets of Mint-Als that I rely on every day, the alcohol I use to wash the taste of vomit away, the syringes.

An inhaler.

I run. I do not know why, but I run as fast as possible from the display and into the crowd. These things should make me feel safe and secure, instead they chill me to my very soul. I bash into ponies left and right in my attempt to escape yet none care. They’re too wrapped up in their own drugged fuelled fantasies to notice one screaming stallion.

I burst into the bathroom and don’t recognise where I am. This door should not lead here, but here I stand. I hear a retching in one of the stalls and approach. The door is unlocked and swings open. Another earth pony leans into the bowl, his red mane faded and lifeless while his suit looks like it had been worn for weeks on end. Piles of empty packets and bottles surround the toilet, the brightly coloured drugs standing out against the grey tiles.

He groans as he looks up at me, vomit on his lips and blood dribbling from his nose. “Fuck, what happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, looking around. “Don’t worry about me, it’s you who’s in trouble. Look at you, you’re a mess.”

“Fuck you. You know who I am?” he shouts back. He looks so familiar, yet I shake my head.

“I’m supposed to be up there now. This was supposed to be MY moment!” he heaves into the bowl. “I need more.”

“Think you’ve had enough, come on,” I move towards him. He shoves me away and retches again. I take this opportunity to pull him away from the temptation.

I don’t even feel the knife stab up into me. He blinks and shoves me away, blinking blearily as if he’s just waking up. He manages to utter another swear. I look down at the weapon in my chest and watch as the blood leaks into my shirt. It drips on the floor as I start to grow cold.

His eyes grow wide as he pushes past me and out of the bathroom. I try to grab him but slip on the floor. The knife has a dull ache as it knocks against the tiles and sprays them with another fine coating of blood. I try to stand once again and catch myself in the mirror.

The necrosis is still there, bone starting to show where the muscle has grown so thin. My suit is tattered and torn, the right shoulder stained with brown after I lost my ear. I look into my eyes and realise where I knew the stallion from.

I know where this moment is from.

I stagger out after him with a fire in my chest. The pain reminds me that I’m still alive, that there is time to save me. I push into the smiling crowd as the lights flash overhead, each burst of darkness hiding the twisted creatures.

I see the blood from their noses, the sores around their lips, the collapsed veins. I see how tired they all are, how sick of it all, how desperate they are for an escape. I catch eyes with one or two and witness the pony inside screaming for an end, by drugs or bullets. The smiles are forced, perversions of anything containing any happiness.

When did I start crying?

They watch me leave as the music pounds on. The Manehatten air is cold on my coat and chills my insides via the knife. I stagger into the road, narrowly avoiding carts as they weave around me, the drivers shouting at me. One clips me, and I kiss concrete.

I can hear laughter. I fight through the stars and try to get up, only to have the world spin away. The laughter grows, joined with the crystal clear ringing of bells as somepony skips merrily. The laughter turns sour. The laughter is at me.

I look around and find myself somewhere new: Craterside before it’s Craterside. A cart thunders through the traffic with stars adorning its side. Behind it, three pegasi race: firing lances of magic from rifles. A balloon with an eternally smiling face floats ahead, missiles streak from it as the crowd screams. Somepony is still laughing.

Then a terrible ghastly silence. Then a terrible ghastly noise.

The cart explodes. Did a stray shot hit something? Did the figures inside complete their task? It doesn’t matter, the result is the same.

The trio of pegasi just fade into the white, swallowed by the lack of colour. A sickly green chases the flash and bathes the crumbling buildings in a wash of flame and death. The ground follows, dirt throwing my body through the air. I notice the sky has been blotted out by the clouds as things rain down from above.

They bring death with them. I hear the screams of Manehatten as it is baptised in necromantic horror and the world changes. I watch, far removed from it all, as ponies drag their half bodies across the floor, begging for someone to save them. They look up into the sky. They look at me. Then they die.

I collapse on the floor again, on the concrete. The knife has gone but I am still bleeding. I can feel the radiation licking at me, filling me with unholy life. I have never felt more alive and more empty than I do now.

Bells chime and a figure cartwheels over the corpses. It plays pattycake with the crying foal as she is burned alive. It waves to me and approaches. I cannot help but smile as the mask comes off.

I kiss my mare, my Hope. She tastes divine, like ice-cream. When we part I see blood running from her eyes, as if she were weeping too hard. Her body begins to match mine – rotting and skeletal. Her eyes grow wide as her face audibly cracks into a smile.

“YOU LEFT ME TO DIE!”

My eyes snapped open with my jaw locked in a scream. I took a few moments to gulp down air, trying to calm myself and work out where I was. I didn’t recognise the corridor I was in but realised that I couldn’t have walked too far, so I took the opportunity to just breathe.

There was a deep throbbing inside my head as I tried to shake the nightmare away, hooves caressing where I had been stabbed. Thankfully it was all in my head. My throat ached after the screaming, begging for a sink and a stiff drink.

“Domino? Two?” I didn’t recognise where I was, other than it was still indoors.

After a few minutes of walking, and calling, I found a public bathroom. I had managed to walk into the other side of the building, somehow traversing the gaps in the concrete as I slept. Nothing short of miracle prevented me from falling several storeys to my death. Part of me was thankful that this escapade had kept me alive, another was terrified of what had just happened to me.

The water was nearly black, but I splashed it over myself all the same, enjoying the cool liquid against my skin. I stared into the mirror at the dead pony. He stared back, looking guilty. Deep down, I knew what had happened. I had always taken the watch because I don’t need to sleep like the others. At least, that was the excuse I told myself and them.

Throwing up helped me regain some sanity. It helped to flush out all the wrongness inside me, remove all memory of the nightmare. I never wanted to relive those moments again, and now I was chased by them in my sleep. The only saving grace was that I awoke from them in the first place.

This wasn’t the first nightmare I had since waking up in the wastes, but this was the first that felt as real as life. I stared grimly at the cracked reflection, flinching as I suddenly remembered the scenes.

Am I starting to slip? Is this what happens when a ghoul becomes feral? The thoughts raced around my mind, threatening another heave until I could put a lid on them. I had to stay sane, stay awake, stay whole.

The soft tingle reminded me I was near a major source of radiation. While I never felt hunger, I felt something like it when I thought of the lethal energies. If I was lucky, I could slip away for a few hours and soak myself up in the glow and try to make me feel truly sane again. Just an afternoon could help me regain my wits.

I looked away from the mirror when something pale yellow caught my eye. Pink butterflies revealed the Ministry of Peace first aid kit, my luck holding as I saw that the latch had broken open after it fell from the wall. Inside lay three potions and a decent supply of miscellaneous medical supplies. Nowhere near enough for Two Tone to finish with Clean, but enough to get Domino on her hooves much faster.

The journey back wasn’t too long nor arduous. I hadn’t travelled far in my delirious state and had walked mostly straight, saving me from the sheer drops where the building had given up after all these years. I found myself in familiar territory and picked up the pace.

The door slowly swung open, Domino looking out at me with a worried look. “Hard? Where did you go?”

“Took a walk, brought you a present though,” I pushed past her into our makeshift camp. “A couple of healing potions, should be enough to get you on your hooves and ready for some thieving.”

I waited as Domino drank greedily from the potions, massaging some of the drops into the more painful wounds. She only had half of the second before she looked good as new, testing her limits out and nodding. We delivered the remaining loot to a grateful Two Tone and a glassy eyed Clean Sweep.

Our leader looked frail and worryingly close to the end. Part of me wondered if I looked like that, while another pointed out how he looked like a pony-sized cuddly toy with his ragdoll pose. I pushed the second thought out of my head as he stirred.

“Hey hun, you ok?”

“Think it’s a bit soon for pet names, Clean,” I replied.

“Ah, the zombie’s here. Somepony mind buckin’ him for me?” he rasped, more out of pain than anything else. I tried to ignore the concerning amount of blood on the floor behind him.

“I’ll get to it later. Me and Hard are going out for a while now, ok? Get you some things so we can get on the road,” Domino stroked Clean’s face gently, as if she was scared that he was about to crumble under her hooves. “Can you hold on a little longer?”

“Do what I can, ain’t promisin’ anythin’. Hey, ghoul, better look after her for me, y’hear?”

“Safe hooves, Clean. Just worry about getting better. You used a memory orb before?” I stopped him before he tried to shake his head. “It’s simple, but it’ll be weird. Try to remember what you can from each one. If we wanted to lock them up that much, they’ll be important. Oh, and try not to think about being a mare too much.”

He winced as he laughed a little too hard, nodding weakly. Two Tone ushered us out and gave us a list of items, most of which we’d be lucky to find after two weeks of searching and bartering. We exchanged hugs, well wishes, and passwords before leaving him to his patient.

“Hey Domino.”

Her hoof stopped short of a step. She didn’t turn around. “Yes?”

We had journeyed a few blocks away, breaking in to a long-abandoned Ministry of Peace office. Unfortunately for us, it was an admin building, rather than a supply hub, but it was a step in the right direction. Two floors in and we had scavenged a few items from Two Tone’s list. I’m glad he was thinking ahead, and that there were leg braces tucked inside somepony’s briefcase for some reason.

“I’d like to say this isn’t my place, but I almost died back there. What the hell is going on? Who is Septic Shock? What is this about a bounty? Why are ponies chasing Clean?” I moved to meet her eyes, my expression softening a little. “Tell me.”

“Trust me Hard, you don’t want to open this can,” Domino slammed another desk shut. “Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Well, it currently belongs next to yours and Clean’s, and they’re staring down the barrel of a very powerful gun. Trust works both ways, and I’ve trusted you both long enough to go this far,” I smiled slightly. “That and sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong was part of the job.”

Domino wore a hard look, almost on the verge of anger but too defensive to lash out at me. “This isn’t your problem, Hard. Once we sort this out, we’ll get you clean and make sure you’re safe, I promise, but you can’t go asking that question. If you know too much, that’s a problem for us.”

“So it’s a dirty secret? Dom, if you haven’t noticed, we’re currently digging up secrets from my time. There could be anything in those orbs, and I just gave them to a pony who openly despises me. I want to help, I do, but I want to help as a friend. Not as a hostage.”

The words seemed to ring in her head for, Domino slowly digesting them. She gave a long, shaky breath. “This does not leave here, understood?”

“Of course. To show I mean it, cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye. A Pinkie Promise is never broken,” I finished it with a toothy grin. It at least made her smile. She carefully turned to show her side, lifting her labcoat. On her ocean blue flank lay a domino piece, two and five.

“Making lady luck work for you. That’s what my father calls my talent. I know how to play the odds, change things to work in my favour. I can get whatever I want, when I want,” the coat came down. “I wanted Clean.”

“No, you two are a couple?” I gasped, hamming up the performance to no end. Domino’s laughter brightened the mood a little more.

“Yes, we have been for some time now. Though we kept it secret for two years, my father never approved of it.”

“Why am I getting the feeling this ends with a vial of poison, a misunderstanding, and a double suicide? Are there two rival crime families at least?”

“What? No… just the one, actually,” she trotted past, nosing through another desk as I waited for the gears in my head to catch up.

“Hang on, a crime family? In the wastelands? You’re joking. How would they even operate? Who would you shake down? Who would you pay off for that matter?”

The desk rattled shut, an empty bottle rolling to the floor with a deafening clink. “No. My family have been in power for generations, maybe even before the last day. They control all kinds of businesses: drugs, weapons, sex. A lot of hooves in a lot of pies.”

“Seven Circles. So you’re a mob princess, what does that make Clean?”

“A ‘cleaner’,” Domino flicked her hoof at the word. “His special talent is in extermination of wildlife, and everything that comes with it. My family also paid him to get rid of more intelligent problems.”

“I can see why your father wasn’t keen on your relationship,” I kicked an empty wastebin over, then bounced to an untouched filing cabinet. “So he fell out of favour with your family because you two are together, right? Did I wake up in a radio drama?”

“Hang on, let me help you.”

With a heave, we opened the stuck drawer and were greeted with a decent collection of illicit substances. Perfect for bartering or having an awesome party before a raider took your skull, but not the kind of drugs we wanted. If this was one-hundred and sixty years earlier, I’d want to have a good chat with the owner of these.

“My father wasn’t enthusiastic, he put Clean on more dangerous missions, forced him to take riskier jobs. It all came to a head when Clean ended up… let’s just say he went too far one job,” Domino sighed as I finished placing our haul in her bags. “Wasn’t his fault, though that didn’t matter. After the dust settled, it was enough to pin it all on Clean and demand his head.”

I nodded, chewing the information over. “Now daddy-dearest has a reason to call a hit on him and forbid you from seeing him again. Two birds, one stone. Except you’re here, he’s still alive, and, so far, only one pony is genuinely interested in hunting him down.”

“Septic Shock,” Domino spat. “If Clean is a ‘cleaner’, Septic makes the mess in the first place. When I was little, he was just a mercenary. A bit dangerous, but nothing compared to recent years. Father would send him to talk with a rival or a raider crew, he’d come back with maybe a kill or two to his name. Now Septic comes back with the spine as a trophy.”

I knew the extent of the unicorn’s cruelty. The unpleasant sight of Pirouette’s freshly severed head appeared in my mind, unwelcome and unwanted. I busied with rooting through the remaining drawers, looking for a distraction. We worked without a spoken word, pulling out a few more greatly needed medical supplies. It was nowhere near enough what Two was asking for, but we were at least a little more prepared for the adventure ahead.

After ten minutes of silence, I found my voice again. “If you and Clean ran away together, why is he the one with a bounty on his head?”

“I don’t understand,” Domino frowned.

“If I was a mob boss, I’d put out a contract on the safe return of my daughter, not for the head of her lover. Maybe a bonus for his death, but not a bounty on his head without rescuing you…” I clicked my tongue. “The wording. You can still pay off bounties, right?”

Domino’s head drooped, ears flicking as she nodded. My eyes grew as the puzzle became clearer.

“A dowry. He’s not put a price on Clean’s head, he’s put a price on your relationship! Either Clean ends up dying, or he comes back and literally buys you off him. Talk about power moves.”

“I am NOT his property!” Domino roared. “I am MINE!”

Dust shifted from the ceiling. Domino stood panting at the shout, teeth clenched and muscles tensed. I backed away, mostly to give her space but also for my safety.

“Six months! Six months we have scavenged and fought and pleaded to raise the caps needed, and nothing has worked! Chasing every rumour, every whisper, all for nothing!” An unfortunate desk found itself flying across the room. “Pinkie’s Final Gift, the Seven Treasures of the Shadowbolts, The Sparking Ghost. All of it, worthless.”

That last one stung, remembering just who The Sparking Ghost was. I held my tongue though, this was Domino’s time to vent and it had been held back for a long damn time. It also opened my eyes to why Clean was so desperate. All of these had some kind of grandeur to them, a greater story lurking behind. The two had chased every possibility of treasure, of fortune, and turned up empty pocketed. Worst still, what money they had had just been sunk into the casino job. This was the last shot.

“All he cares about is paying my father off, to play by his rules,” Domino drew in heavy breaths, glaring daggers.

“Sometimes, you need to play to another’s tune. You can’t win without playing to their beat,” I gestured to a helpfully placed Steel Ranger poster, carefully leaving my cover. “You think Equestria was ready for a war on this scale? We had to grow into it. We followed the zebras’ drum.”

“That’s different,” Domino dismissed it with a snort and continued her search. “Clean can do something, something he’s very good at, but he’s too scared of what will happen.”

“Are you saying that I think you’re saying?” I asked, becoming a little bolder. “Domino, I don’t even know who your father is and I’m scared of what will happen. The power vacuum would be insane, if the Golden Gallop was anything to go by. A casino owner is killed and the whole place turned to a warzone. What would happen to Manehatten?”

“Manehatten can burn for all I care, there’s nothing in that city worth keeping,” another desk slammed shut.

I placed a squishy hoof on her blue one, not needing an ounce of strength to get her to stop. “You don’t mean that.”

A moment lingered before Domino sighed, sounding defeated. “You’re right, I don’t. I’m just so tired of this, Hard. I’m at the end of my rope and there’s no rescue in sight.”

“I know how that feels.”

“Bullshit,” Domino glared at me. She must have seen something in my gaze, because it soon faltered.

“No, no, I guess you had plenty to deal with back in your time,” she conceded. “I just want to get ahead, to have the upper hoof.”

“You’re not wrong there, and I think I can forgive two lovers wanting control. Stars above, I wanted that when I was your age,” I chuckled.

“I’m twenty-seven,” Domino replied, an eyebrow arched and a smirk on her lips. “That shut you up.”

“I’m over a hundred,” I muttered in defeat.

We finished our scavenge on the second floor and began to make a move to the third. The locked door stood little chance against the Datplacers and took a quick flight out of the opposite window. Thunder rumbled in the distance, once covered by the thick glazing that was slowly repairing itself.

“Never seen that before,” Domino said, impressed. “Do all Ministry buildings have this?”

“Only the ones that were deemed important enough for it, guess this one was home to something very special,” I looked around at the long-rusted terminals. “Doubt we’ll find out what, though.”

A brief nose through the desks coughed up a few goodies. Mostly reading material, but I was now three magazines and a book better off. Nurse Redheart’s Bumper Book of the Body: Breaks, Bandages, and Beauty – a perfect find for what we needed, followed by a few other medical themed magazines.

Five minutes later, we had hit the jackpot. The keys to a wagon outside that was, supposedly, filled to the brim with supplies for the front. The checklist it lay near told us that it was here for a surprise inspection after several supplies had mysteriously disappeared at random checkpoints. We made our move to the stairwell.

The scene from before began to play through my head, matching against Domino and Clean’s actions ever since I first left the pod. The pair were desperate for money, willing to put their lives on the line repeatedly to do so. They walked into the lion’s den just for a briefcase based on an ancient rumour. My curiosity swelled.

“Hey, Domino,” I began. “Just how big is Clean’s bounty?”

“Fifty thousand,” she replied, without even skipping a beat. “Enough to live off for the rest of your days.”

“Stars above,” I mumbled, stopping still on the concrete.

Domino looked up, frowning a little. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just so much.”

“A price on my life is a price all the same, Hard. I’m just property to my father, that hasn’t changed in years and won’t for a long time,” Domino had a smile on her face that came nowhere near her eyes. “I’ve accepted that. Hate it, but accepted it.”

“For what it’s worth, Domino, I’m with you every step of the way. If this thing doesn’t work out, I’ll stand by until you’re free of this,” I pulled my best grin. “What kind of Morale agent would I be if I couldn’t make just two ponies happy?”

The smile reached her eyes and Domino bowed her head. It came back up sharply, her ears twitching. My stub did the same and we both looked down the stairs. Somepony was in the building with us. We silently crept down the staircase, holding our breath in fear. With any luck we could just sneak out rather than fight, it would cost us too much.

We heard a heavy hoofstep one floor below, followed by an unnerving creak and hiss. “Knight, report.”

“Two non-hostiles in the building. Most likely above. Think they might know what happened with that door,” a female voice replied to the male, sounding somewhat distorted and robotic.

“Shit,” Domino whispered. “Rangers.”

“Rangers? As in, Steel Rangers?” I hissed back. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

Domino gave me a strange look, between utter disbelief and horror. “Good?! Hard, if they see you, you’ll be paste in seconds. The only thing they hate more than wastelanders with fancy tech is ghouls. And you’re a ghoul with fancy tech.”

“What? Why?”

“No time for history lesson, we need to get out of here,” Domino pushed me away from the stairs.

“Movement,” the mare below drawled. “Permission to engage?”

“Permission granted, Knight Cinnamon Toast. Non-explosive munitions, try to avoid blowing up anything useful. This building looks almost untouched, I’m certain Elder Elderflower would appreciate the supplies. Not to mention what we could get for Star Paladin Cottage Cheese for that matter.”

“Understood,” the massive hoofsteps began ascending as we scurried further back. “Do not run, it won’t work.”

For the first time in my life, I gazed upon the form of a Steel Ranger and felt terror. The metal pony shape entered the room with a crunch of old wood, my eyes hurting from the glare of the highbeams. The head slowly sweeped around the room, settling on our pitiful hiding space.

“Come out.”

I almost followed the command on sheer reaction, but Domino forced me down. “We’re just scavengers! Everything here is yours, just don’t kill us!”

“You’re not really in a position to make demands, scum. Get out before I waste ammo shooting through that desk,” I heard the rattle clack of a minigun being loaded.

“If you kill us, that would be a mistake,” I spoke without realising, suddenly meeting Domino’s terrified eyes.

“A ghoul? Can’t tell if you’re brave to stare death in the face, or stupid to tell me you’re here. I personally think it’s the latter.”

“Well, I never did finish high school,” I tried to find a hoofhold for the conversation. “I think you might want to hear this ghoul out. You know what building this is?”

“Knight, what is taking so long?” softer hoofsteps came up, the male pony had joined us. “Is there a fault with the targeting systems again?”

“No, sir,” Cinnamon Toast replied. “Just allowing these two their final words.”

“Well get on with it, I want this place stripped and searched sooner rather than later.”

“Thenyouwon’tfindthesupplywagon,” I blurted.

There was a strange silence. Somewhere, a surviving clock ticked.

“What?” the stallion asked, with an edge to his voice.

“If you kill us,” Domino continued for me. “You won’t know where to find the supply wagon. We found out and wanted to take it for ourselves, but the terminal was destroyed in the process.”

We caught each other’s eyes, hooves touching as we prayed to whoever was listening that they would buy the lie. The seconds dragged by until we heard a strange noise. The Knight was chuckling.

“Typical, you play with things you do not understand and make the world worse for it. Who knows what else you have lost in the process?” the weapon began to spin up. “I’m amazed after all these years, you remain in ignorance. Suffer for it.”

“The Golden Gallop!” I yelled over the din. “Memory orbs in the Golden Gallop!”

“Wait.”

I could barely hear it over the noise of impending death and my heartbeat, the stallion spoke so softly. Despite the delivery, it brought the Knight to heel and the whir slowed down to a stop. I heard hooves tap across the room as he rounded the corner.

The unicorn was dressed in simple robes, red as blood with the insignia of the Rangers on the flank: a single winged sword defending the gears of Equestrian industry. He carefully studied us, stroking his greying beard as he looked us up and down. I could barely read what was going on behind those bespectacled eyes.

“Who are you?”

“Just scavengers,” Domino replied, moving between me and the stallion.

He smirked. “A poor lie. Very few scavengers know about the importance of memory orbs, and yet you brought them up. Who are you?”

“The Sparking Ghost.”

I don’t know why I said that. Perhaps there was a part of me that wanted to become something bigger, better, like I had to prove my worth to Domino. She looked at me in shock, almost questioning what I had planned, but it was nothing compared to the look on the unicorn’s face.

“Well, well, isn’t that interesting. You do not seem to be lying, at least about the wagon. The Gallop I’m less sure about.”

“Why would I lie?” I replied. “What would I gain?”

“Last attempt to save your own skin?” the stallion raised an eyebrow. “Why should I believe you?”

Something about the movement stirred a familiarity in me, but I was unsure of what or why. I slowly opened my jacket, keeping the DC-pad hidden inside, and took out my business cards. He took one carefully, lips moving silently as he read it.

“I know memory orbs better than most. We were in the vault, downstairs on the left, now unlocked. Rows of them, untouched. There’s even a Shadowbolt’s pistol in the office, providing nopony’s taken it,” I focused on keeping my breathing calm and steady. “The whole place was in chaos when we left, no match for two Rangers.”

“Give me the keys and you are free to leave,” the card slipped into his robes as he spoke.

“Sir!” Cinnamon Toast’s external speakers blurted. “Surely you are joking?”

“My dear Knight, look at them. It would be a waste of valuable ammunition, especially when there is a greater prize at hoof. In days long gone, perhaps before you were born, we would make such a trade with outsiders. Small pieces of inconsequential technology, like a long-broken pistol or a dud grenade, for information. I think these two have earned another way to die in exchange for that confirmation, most likely from the very angry ponies now leaving that casino.”

“You’re serious?” Domino slowly stood up. “You’re not going to shoot me in the back as we leave?”

“My dear, you’re already long dead. At least your friend looks it,” his smile was wonderfully unpleasant. “The keys and the location of the wagon, please.”

“Swear on it.”

The unicorn rolled his eyes and began a very familiar set of movements. “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye. There, an ancient family tradition used on a nopony. Satisfied?”

“Yellow wagon, outside on the left,” Domino threw the keys to him, which he caught without a thought. “How did you know about the keys?”

“That’s something I’ll leave you two to work out. Now go.”

We couldn’t move fast enough.

I stretched out to ease my bones, multiple snaps and pops rewarding the effort. I smiled at the sounds, and a little at the disgust on Two Tone’s face as I did so. The unicorn sipped at a half-finished bottle of gin, found inside a nearly destroyed drinks cabinet. I couldn’t stomach the stuff myself.

“Do that again, zombie, and I’ll make sure they stop snapping altogether, you hear?” Clean grimaced as he tried to get comfortable.

For what it was worth, Two Tone’s efforts were a success. He had spent a while reading through the magazines and books, annotating small parts here and there, before he made his move. With carefully placed pins taken from the braces, as well as several wasteland workings, he had managed to juryrig a support for Clean’s injuries. Time would tell if it would work, but we couldn’t spare a second in letting Clean’s back heal naturally. Against Domino’s will, he was keen to get on the road as soon as possible.

I agreed with him.

After the delivery of medical supplies, Two Tone finished his work on Clean and managed to seal up most of the wounds from his work. He openly admitted it could bring horrific problems in the future without better care, but that was an issue for a later day as Clean asserted. The only thing on our leader’s mind was the events inside the memory orbs.

“First things first,” he grumbled. “Almost prepared to take back any bitterness towards you, ghoul. Livin’ in a pastel hellhole all the time, pretty sure I’d go insane from the colours too.”

“Two, are you sure you didn’t knock something loose while you were in there?” I looked up at the singer only to get a swat from Domino - I couldn’t help but grin. “What did you see?”

“First few were just the planning stages, nothin’ much but a whole lotta talkin’. Also, somethin’ called a spell in a box?” Clean looked to me expectantly, only for Two Tone to chime in.

“Fancy magic, swinger. Two Tone couldn’t find a working piece out here, but read up about it in an old magazine. Spell frozen until it’s opened, one-time use, somethin’ real special,” he chuckled. “Real treasure hunt to get my hooves on somethin’ like that, know what I’m sayin’?”

“Congrats, lifelong goal achieved,” I said as I threw my business card box to Two Tone. “Enchanted so every third card-“

There was a shower of confetti as Two reached it. “-Explodes. Simple spell to keep them doing that, once they run out I need a new box.”

“Back to the point,” Clean began, only to be interrupted by another burst of party horns. “Need more than just tickets. Six items, one for each Mare.”

Toot!

“Two, please stop,” Domino passed the box over to me, as I tried to stifle the giggles at the stallion. “What are they?”

“No idea. Something to do with a dress, or an outfit. Know that kept ‘em on ‘em, or somewhere they trusted,” Clean sniffed, wincing as something twinged. “Fuck, ow. Just need to start trackin’.”

“Any idea where we go first?” I placed the cards inside their pocket, sitting snugly against Rainbow Dash.

“Away from here, last orb had some pony talkin’ about the final parts for the project. Looked mighty important.”

“Where we headed, swinger?”

“Some town called Fetlock Fields, take us eight, ten days to walk it,” Clean caught my eye, and raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, ghoul?”

“Five,” I replied, feeling a deep unease. “Five days if the old roads are holding.”

“You ok, swinger?” Two Tone gave my shoulder a comforting pat.

“Yeah, just had a bad experience there once,” I shuddered at the thought. More than just one bad experience in that town, enough to write a whole tale.

Guess you can’t put off going home forever.

Letter from Miss Carbon Copy to Mr Hard Copy [Agent, Team Frosting]

Dear Hard,

I hope this letter finds you well and that you’ve found yourself in Manehatten. Still can’t believe you found a job with the Gazette, knew you would make it big one day! We’re so proud of you, not just me and mum but everypony in town. So many others have left to do things for the war, we’re just glad you’re not on the front lines like every foal out there.

Not much has changed back here, I’m running the shop now. Mum’s never had the knack for repairs, so it’s up to me to carry on that legacy. Who knows, twenty years on I’ll be able to put my hooves up and a little one of my own mess about with a wrench. That said, think I enjoy my freedom a little too much to settle down yet. Maybe I’ll actually leave here for a short while, see some of the world. That couch still on offer?

You might already know, but Cherry Pop died a few weeks back. Zebra ambush during a patrol, her mum told us that it was a quick death at least. It’s weird, but I found that comforting. I remember when we were little and played so many games of house, you pretending to be the butler because you hated the idea of marrying her! Think that actually hurt her feelings, she honestly had a crush on you for years. I suppose you both moved on long since then.

I’m a little worried about mum too. Ever since you left she’s been stressed. The nightmares have come back, and I found her practicing with her old rifle the other day. I want to get the Ministry of Peace in to try and help, but she refuses to talk to them. I think she’s scared of losing you after losing dad, I know I am a little.

Write back soon, ok? I know you’re busy but it would be nice to hear from my dearest brother from time to time.

Love

Carbon

[Action: Letter refers to potential case of WSD, refer subject to Morale agents for treatment]

[Action: Subject is being looked after by Agent Hard Copy, refer to this agent for any future developments. Any other course of action is to be cleared by the Agent.]

Level up!

New Perk: P.P.P (Professional Party Pony) – The art to a good party lies in the surprise. Just like Pinkie, your surprise parties will be even more effective at making ponies happy. Just like her Ministry, surprise attacks will deal even more damage. An Agent is more than guns, a Professional is more than parties.

Quest Perk: Zebra Martial Arts (White Belt) – It’s a bit more complex than wax on, wax off, but you’ve started the journey to become a master of the ancient Zebra art of kicking somepony’s face in. Just don’t go thinking you’re the next Moose Lee just yet.