My dreams that night were different than usual. Really, it was odd in general to dream at all anymore as they seem to have long since abandoned me leaving my sleep a dull, blank experience. Despite it having been a good four decades since my last actual dream had occurred, this one was unfortunately a return to the same old nightmares that had plagued me since the Great War. The dream was really more like a constantly shifting mosaic of nightmares all rolling from one to the next like it was following some cinematic script. Sometimes I was back in the Badlands watching my Squad slowly fall around me as we fought to the death to defend a position. Other times, I was back at home with mom, looking out the window watching Balefire slowly consume the town around me while mom simply held me to her chest and tried to sing a lullaby to get me to sleep. Aside from mom and Huckleberry, everypony I met in my dreams were faceless as if my mind was trying to convince me that I had truly forgotten who my greatest friends and colleges were in years past. And yet, whenever one of them were killed I somehow knew exactly who they were despite there being nothing about them to distinguish them from the next faceless entity fighting alongside me. Perhaps the strangest part of it all was the fact that aside from mom’s lullaby, there was no noise whatsoever. The faceless didn’t scream, the bullets didn’t whistle as they went on by...the noise of death was naught but silence. And to be honest the silence scared me most of all.
“Athena! Wake up!”
The sudden existence of noise in my world of silent destruction was so jarring that I flung myself out of bed and onto the floor, the panic in my dazed mind frantically looking for something to defend myself with. Melody and Gold both jumped away from me in shock, the haze of my nightmares casting them in a twisted light of black and red causing my panic to become terror. The small part of my mind that still clung to reason and reality screamed at me that I was just experiencing another panic attack but the screams of terror every other part of my brain were shrieking into my senses drowned out reason. There was little I could do to reason with an attack like this but clench my eyes shut and cling to what shred of conscious sanity I had left inside me until it was all over.
It took a few moments for the haze to fade and I found myself curled up under Melody’s cot trembling and sobbing into the veil that lay before my face that was my own mane. The emotions coursing through my body were all so muddled and intermixed that it was hopeless to try and give even one of them a name; let alone stem the flow of ugly tears pouring from my eyes. I could feel the eyes of Melody and Gold on me, witnessing the badass mare of yesterday broken and defeated lying on the floor curled up under a bed like a foal. It hurt my pride to let them see me in such a state...but with every tear and every choked sob escaping my body I felt better. I wasn’t plagued with continued visions of death and sadness but they had left their emotional caress on my system. Crying...that was something else to add to the list of forgotten emotions of the last two centuries. Forgot how wet and messy your face and muzzle get...
“Hey...shhhh...it’s ok.” I heard Melody whisper comfortingly to my right followed shortly by her small but surprisingly warm body snuggling up to me. “You’re gonna be ok.”
Words continued to evade my abilities and instead what came out were nothing more than soft sobs of attempted speech. Her warmth was welcoming though and I found immense solace in its presence beside me, the sodden veil over my eyes flopping off as her little muzzle brushed it away from my face, her lips barely brushing against my own as she went. It was too subtle to have any more meaning behind it than a mere coincidental accident but it caused my weary heart to flutter a bit in my chest. I wanted a real kiss...but it was far too soon to be seeking one from her. Still...the small glimpse into what it would be like was more than enough to rouse me from the sad chains binding me to the cold concrete floor of the Stable Atrium. She was someone worth keeping it together for. Myself I couldn't give a fuck less about anymore...but she, she was someone to believe in and try to fight for.
“T-thanks…” I mumbled with a heavy sniff as I shakily got to my hooves then collapsed onto her cot behind me.
She beamed with a mixture of pride and compassion and helped me lay back and into the down feather pillow which she strategically placed under my head so I could still see everyone in comfort. Gold stood awkwardly next to his own cot looking torn between wanting to help and having no clue how to do so. I felt exposed and strangely naked without my coat and armor on. My patchwork of scars and burns were not entirely visible through my relatively well groomed coat but in that moment I felt like every single one of them shone like slivers of ugly light. Neither of them seemed to pay my collection of physical imperfections much mind though Melody did take a look, at once both intrigued and saddened by what she saw.

I tried to form the words needed to allay their worries about my condition but was prevented from doing so by Melody who gently offered me a bowl of warm oatmeal and Brahmin milk with a bit of brown sugar and a worn silver spoon. The aroma was thick and sugary and reminded me of more than a few warm recollections involving oatmeal and Huckleberry. The two were always paired together in my memory, almost as much as the smell and image of buttered toast. Sadly, the toast was missing from Melody’s simple meal but I was grateful nonetheless for her offering.
“I made this for you while you were asleep.” She beamed, nodding towards a small hotplate set on the floor nearby with a covered pot set on top and some raw ingredients set to the side. “I don’t know how to make a lot of kinds of food, but I hope you like it!”
I wanted to thank her for her thoughtfulness (as well as comment on my love for oatmeal) but she again stopped me by basically shoving a spoonful of the warm delicious sludge into my open mouth with a small smirk tugging at the corners of her beaming face. The consistency was a bit thicker than I preferred my oatmeal to be (I liked mine a bit more on the soupy side) but the oats were properly cooked and the balance of milk and brown sugar was perfect. The feeling in my gut was one of satisfied contentment and the bowl was scarfed down faster than I think she or I thought.
I was halfway through licking the leftovers from my lips when she giggled, “Damn...you ate that up like crazy! Was it that good?”
I had to catch myself from mumbling something about eating her up like crazy and instead responded with, “You’re damn right it was that good! Where’d you learn to make oats like that?”
“Chocolate actually.” She smiled as she ran to refill my bowl with another round of the grey sludge. “It’s the only thing she knows how to cook, so she taught me how to make it since...some ponies really liked it.”
Her last few words hung heavy in the air with awkward tension and I understood what she was implying. Jangle, or one of her underlings, really liked oatmeal. I could only hope my love for the stuff wouldn’t bring up bad memories for the poor girl. She quickly recovered though and returned with another bowl and a big smile on her face. I found myself picturing herself in a nurse’s uniform like Huckleberry would wear every now and again just to get me to squirm and wriggle when I was feeling ill. It was rare that I would catch something like the flu (or once a horrible case of Dragon Pox) but she would use the situation to dress up whenever she brought be something like soup or, as is probably obvious by now, some oatmeal and toast. Depending on how well I felt though would determine if she followed up the meal with some ‘desert’. Not for Dragon Pox though. That was an ugly sickness...
“Heh, you ok Athena?” She asked as she levitated the bowl onto my lap, the warmth immediately pressing against my aroused nethers and eliciting a mewling moan from me, much to our combined embarrassment.
“H-heh...thanks, Melody!” I quickly squeaked as I yanked the bowl from my crotch and buried my red face into its contents guzzling them down hoping they would calm me down but it was too late.
“Alrighty...looks like you and that bowl need some time alone.” Melody giggled as the bashful shame flooded my face painfully.
I dropped the bowl in defeat and set it down on the floor beside me, hiding my face behind my scarred hooves in shame for being so aroused by someone as young as she was. Huckleberry wouldn’t ever let me hear the end of it, I knew that much...but then again Huckleberry was the kind of mare who’d be into young mares. Always envious of their smaller asses and more vibrant coat colors. Goddesses...everything was getting so confusing in my life, I had no clue how to deal with it all. The last week had been a rollercoaster of change and I was amazed I was keeping my cool after a century's worth of status quo just got shattered on almost a whim.
“Don’t be shy.” Melody laughed innocently beside me. “If oatmeal turns you on, then that’s cool by me! You never have to be afraid of loving what you love. We all have to have weird things we like to make us different...otherwise, we’d all be the same and that’s super boring. I like being me. There’s only one of me out there in the world and I have to live up to that uniqueness in any way I can. Especially now that I actually can.”
“Hucks used to say something like that…” I mumbled to myself, looking up from my hooves at the boring grey wall in front of me. "Something very similar..."
“Hmm? Who said what?” Melody asked sweetly, looking over at me with a tender smile.
“Huckleberry...my...fiance.” I managed to say with great effort. “She...she used to say stuff like that all the time. She loved being unique. To call her weird was a compliment...heh, to call her insane was taken as a badge of honor. 'I'd rather be called insane than crazy because crazy implies I can be reasoned with.' She always liked to say. She loved being weird...she’d go out of her way sometimes to do weird shit just to get me to laugh on a bad day.”
“Oh? Like what?” She asked as she sat on the cot beside me.
“Well...one time she stuck fruit on her horn and tied a blanket around her neck and danced like she was a Flamenco dancer.” I replied quietly, gaining more confidence and volume the more I remembered the event. “No music or anything, she just danced like nopony was watching and made up her own music by singing nonsense. She didn’t speak a lick of Espania but it sounded like she was fluent in it when she danced...I laughed so hard I threw up.”

“Wow...she sounds awesome.” Melody said in a hushed voice, an amused smile gracing her muzzle. “Wish I could have seen it. Why did she do it?”

“Well...I was having a really bad day…” I lamented, looking towards the armor and duster I had deposited on the concrete floor next to my cot. “We had lost a bunch of good soldiers in a freak accident back at camp…”

“W-what happened…?” She whispered in a fearful tone, eying me carefully so as to gauge if she was asking too deep a question.

“A battery of Solar Eclipse shells exploded.” I replied simply. “Those are the hundred-and-fifty millimeter shells used exclusively by big artillery guns.”

I drew in the air the dimensions of the massive piece of ordnance that was roughly four and a half feet in length and six inches thick to demonstrate the size of a single shell.

“About fifty of those all went off at once...one of my close friends was caught in the blast. The kill radius of a single one-fifty is fifty meters. Multiply that by fifty plus some extra power from the gunpowder in each casing and the blast was big enough to leave a small crater the size of a warehouse. Only time I’ve seen that much power from a single blast that wasn't an actual bomb was from a BEL.”

“A BEL? W-what’s t-that?” Gold asked, jumping into the conversation with sudden interest.

“It’s short for Balefire Egg Launcher.” I replied, thinking back on the first time I laid eyes on one with Captain Onyx. “It’s basically like a rocket launcher/slingshot thing for miniature Balefire Bombs. There’s a few of them still left out there in the Wastes plus the rare Balefire Egg or two for it. If you ever see anypony hefting what looks like a metal half-pipe with grips onto their shoulder, fucking run. Unless of course it’s your goal to die horribly in a pink and purple mushroom cloud of Necromantic obliteration. Thankfully the range is pretty dismal on those things since they fire with compressed air and pneumatics and the Balefire charge is rather small and isolated but still. Wanna be at least 500 meters away just to be careful.”

“How many of those things are there?” Melody asked, looking towards the securely bolted door of the Stable with uncertainty.

“Eh...I’m not entirely sure to be honest.” I admitted, grateful for the change in topic so I could stand up and get dressed without making a puddle around my hind legs with my arousal. “Probably a few hundred or so 200 years ago but nowadays I couldn't even begin to guess. After we found a working one, we turned it over to the Engineers who then remade it to shoot supercharged Spark Bombs that had more or less the same level of destructive power as an Egg but without lingering Necromantic death clouds and unquenchable fire.”

“The more I hear about all these crazy weapons, the less I hope to see them…” Melody mumbled as the last pieces of my armor went on my shoulders. "Your exploding rifle is the biggest thing I've ever seen."

"Heh, the 25x102mm definitely is no slouch in the high-explosive category; especially with my own custom rounds with powdered Nexus Crystal and some mercury fulminate to detonate it." I said with a loving glance at my old girl resting against one of Cog's shelves nearby. "But...despite her size she is definitely not the biggest gun out there. For a portable Anti-Materiel weapon, you can't get bigger but when it comes to explosive ordinance...I mean, you've got rockets and missiles like the Hydra-70s and TOWs on the old gunship Vertibirds, 20 and 30mm autocannons on the Gryphon battle tanks and trucks, and of course FIM-6s, Dart-88s, and any 40mm grenade launcher."

"Wowie...there's a lot of guns out there isn't there?" Melody giggled softly, looking at her own rifle. "How do you remember all this stuff about them?"

"Literal centuries of experience babe." I laughed in response. "With that much time, anypony would be an expert."

After another minute of Gold and Melody both eating the rest of the oatmeal (Melody making a cheeky smirk as she slurped her bowl down), we left the Stable and entered Cog’s workshop where he was busy attaching the second cybernetic leg to Chocolate’s body. She laid calmly on Cogsworth’s cot with her head propped up on a pillow while she watched the stallion work, wincing every now and again as each microfilament wire was magically fused to a nerve ending in her body. We walked over silently to observe the process and I couldn’t help but notice Chocolate was living up to her prediction that the pain of the procedure would rile her up by the glistening fur above her vagina that was modestly covered with her equally moist tail. Breakfast and a show...eh, definitely worse shit to wake up to.

“A-ah! Well heya mm...my bitches!” She called out to us in between small moans of pleasure. “S-sleeepmm….good?”

I could feel Cogsworth’s flustered face even five feet away as he continued to work as quickly as he could while trying desperately not to look up from his work even an inch. Given his proximity to her snatch, it wouldn’t even take much for her to wrap her new legs around his head and bury him right into her crotch. I could smell her musk the second I entered the room, a thick velvety chocolate smell that could only be called a dark milk chocolate flavor that would turn even the most stubborn of heads. My own mouth watered a little at the thought of turning the aroma into flavor but it was neither the time nor the place to get down with her. Besides...I never was super fond of chocolate as a candy anyway and from the conversation the night before, it was just best for her to save herself for Cogsworth. That being said...I couldn’t stop imagining if her juices would taste great on vanilla ice cream like a sexy hot fudge sundae. What I wouldn't give for soft serve...

“Yep!” Melody beamed, ignoring her arousal. “Your new legs look great!”

“I know, right?” Chocolate agreed, looking down at the two shiny new limbs attached to her body. “I’m like a sexy cyborg now! Definitely will be fuckin' great to walk again.”

The limbs themselves were some of Cogsworth’s finest works I had seen yet. Each was perfectly crafted from high quality steel alloy with joint servos and actuators taken from a T-51 model of Power Armor giving them immense stability and strength. Unlike lesser quality limbs made by less experienced craftsponies, all the complex wiring and moving parts were encased under a finely machined layer of steel with a matte finish. On the small mobile table next to Cogsworth (which honestly looked more like a surgeon's kit than a toolbox), lay a small can of dark brown paint the same color as Chocolate’s coat. On a nearby workbench lay the remnants of his paint mixing process with several small bottles of various shades of brown paint and a selection of brushes of various size.

“Isn’t the metal gonna look weird against your coat?” Melody asked, looking at where the steel met the flesh of her hip.

“I am preparing to paint it.” Cogsworth said as he pulled away with some small delicate tools in his mouth. “It is a blend of mine own creation. It will not corrode and will withstand many abrasions before wearing away. No one will think to suggest these legs are anything but natural. Well...until they require a secondary coating in approximately ten years.”

He smiled proudly and began to slowly apply a layer of the thick brown paint to her legs, Melody jumping in excitedly to help. Her talent with precision telekinesis was mesmerizing to watch as she almost effortlessly painted all the tiny grooves and curves with all the poise and skill of a master painter at work. As she worked she screwed her face up into a cutely ridiculous expression of concentration, sticking her tongue out to the side as she worked until they had finished and pulled away to let their work dry. I was admittedly surprised at just how exact the paint color had been to matching Chocolate's coat. She would be looking good as new and I couldn't help but feel a small amount of pride in how pleased she looked seeing her new legs get fastened on. Dare I say I was...actually beginning to enjoy helping those deserving of help get to a goal they want to achieve. I wasn't about to start up a charity...but I wasn't going to turn my back on these ponies either.

“It will only take but a few minutes.” Cogsworth explained with a tired but triumphant grin on his face. “I thank you for your patience, Lady Chocolate. Dare I say that these must be the swiftest of mine most recent projects! I am quite pleased with my timing.”

“Lady Chocolate eh?” She mused with a smirk. “I like the sound of that…”

Cogsworth blushed and hurried away to return his tools to their proper place while Melody hugged Chocolate tight in congratulations and Gold stood fixated on a Pre-War magazine on the Steel Rangers. In an attempt to avoid getting my pants wet (again) from thinking about Chocolate, I went over to him and peeked over his shoulder at the article he was reading. It didn't even take me long to realize what kind of trash it was and start getting upset at it. It was full of glorious action shots of the Steel Rangers in T-45s and 51s surrounded by overly detailed fiery explosions while firing volleys of grenades and bullets at the evil Zebra foes. Tin Head porn and media orgasms all wrapped up into one blasphemous weekly subscription service delivered right to your front door...

‘The Steel Rangers, the brainchild of Apple Jack, the head of the Ministry of Wartime Technology, burst onto the frontlines of battle on this day ten years ago in Equestria’s finest show of Earth pony technological prowess brought to life by the might of Unicorn magic. The magically powered armor, which is made of advanced metals and armed to the teeth with the latest in Equestrian weaponry, renders every mare and stallion who proudly wears it both a one-pony army and a symbol of our glorious nation. When asked about how she felt regarding the overwhelming success of her invention, Apple Jack replied, “Well, I don’t know what else to say except I’m proud Equestria came together to make the ponies dying for our freedom from Zebra Imperialism safer. I didn’t want to fight them, but they came to the wrong damn rodeo and we ain’t gonna stop ‘til everypony can sleep safe at night.”’

As I read I felt a sickening feeling of disgust slide into my gut. Not only at the godawful praise for the Tin Heads gushing from the page but from the careful diction used in the article. It was little words like, ‘glorious’ and, ‘prowess’ that made me cringe from the heavy hoofed propaganda laden exposition behind what was admittedly one of the best pieces of wartime technology ever invented. I was an Equestrian through and through...but I wasn’t exactly proud to be one. Nationalism was a great tool to bring everyone together to fight the common enemy found overseas but in retrospect it was exactly the reason the War became worse. The more we clung together as brothers and sisters of a united Equestria, the farther removed from reality and morality we became. Common sense was thrown out the window in favor of winning the present day and no thought was given to what would become of our creations after the War had been won.

“W-wow...they really l-liked the Steel Rangers d-didn’t they?” Gold asked as he idly flipped through the rest of the magazine which was more or less Steel Ranger porn with glory shots of them galloping bravely into battle or standing heroically atop a hill and other such bullshit.

“Hold up, go back.” I commanded, a slight growl hitting my voice as he passed a particular picture that looked familiar.

He glanced up at me before turning back a few pages before I stopped him on one two-page wide picture of a large group of silhouetted Steel Rangers posing atop a hill overlooking the smoking battlefield known afterwards as the Battle of the Withering Heights. Everything about the picture was all wrong, even the date the picture was taken.

“T-the Battle of the W-Withering Heights…?” Gold asked as he read the small description in the bottom right corner of the photo. “W-what happened t-there?”

“Oh I’ll tell you what…” I growled, looking at the silhouetted Tin Head holding the Equestrian flag in its right hoof. “This entire picture is a fucking lie.”

“H-how so?” He asked, peering at the photo. “It l-looks pretty o-official to me…”

“That’s because you weren’t there…” I sighed as I sat back on my haunches taking the picture with me. “The Battle of the Withering Heights was one of my first combat engagements right out of EastPoint Military Academy. I was a newly graduated 2nd Lieutenant put in command of my first Platoon in the General Army and we were stationed at Withering Heights, which is a rocky outcropping of sorts on the Eastern Front on the ocean. Our job was to keep an eye on the water for any invading Imperial armies since they were inevitably going to try and invade Equestria again after we kicked them out the first time they invaded. I had a head full of battle tactics and leadership training but absolutely zero practical application of my schooling in a real battlefield setting...just like every other graduate. That didn’t earn me much appreciation from hardly any of the enlisted soldiers working under me since I was the equivalent of a school teacher newly graduated from a high-end university going to a shitty part of town to teach a bunch of rowdy boys how to live on the streets. What did I know about fighting and dying? What the fuck did I know about seeing your own people getting their heads blown off right in front of you and their brains getting splashed into your eyes and mouth? Nothing...absofuckinglutely nothing. As rough a start as any freshly minted Officer can ask for to be honest.”

He winced a bit at my detailed description of true warfare but continued to look up at me with intense interest, silently prodding me to continue my narrative. I couldn't blame him. In many ways, the Pre-War world was far more interesting than the boring doldrums of the Wasteland. What I wouldn't give to not have to walk everywhere like in the old days...

“The whole thing is a long story so I’m going to give you the Sparkle-Notes version of it, k?” I said, looking over the picture of the familiar grass covered rocks near Manehattan.

“T-the what now…?” He asked.

“Oh...right. Outdated reference.” I sighed, remembering hardly anypony knew the full dictionary of Pre-War slang like I did. “Let’s just say Sparkle-Notes were a long list of book and article summaries written by Twilight Sparkle for any high school and college students who needed to do a book report but didn’t actually read the damn thing. It basically summed up the important parts of the book and let you know what it was about in a fraction of the time needed to read the actual book.”

“Huh...t-that’s pretty c-cool.” He commented as he thought over the concept. “D-did you ever have to-”

“Use Sparkle-Notes myself?” I finished for him with a laugh. “Eeyep! All through high school and as much as I could in university all the way through till EastPoint when that sorta shit woulda seen my ass thrown out. Thing with me is I love reading. If a book is interesting to me I’ll read the shit out of it but if I have to read it for a grade, you’ll have to drag me by the tail to read anything. It’s like my mind just shuts down whenever I had to do something for a grade...anywho, I’m off topic. What was I talking about?”

“Ummm...t-the Battle of the W-Withering Heights?” He replied, pointing to the picture open on my lap.

“Right, so the Sparkle-Notes version of what happened to me and my Platoon was we were assigned to the Southern portion of the Ponyarny Inlet on the Withering Heights operating the Anti-Submersible and Anti-Airborne guns when the Empire launched their second invasion of Equestria. It was me and about forty other soldiers, plus another two-hundred or so from the other platoons stationed there. 250 or so against what turned out to be the Empire’s entire First Legion, which had about three-hundred thousand troops. That’s just Zebras and doesn’t include the Wyverns, Cheetahs, Antelope, Elephants, Tigers and all the other fucking scary ass species from the Empire they've tried shipping over. In total I think they had like four or five-hundred thousand Legionaries landing all along the East coast. At the Ponyarny Inlet where we were stationed, we had probably eight to ten thousand Legionnaires to deal with by ourselves alone. Goddesses...the intelligence community nearly collapsed that day it felt like...questions went unanswered, orders were patchy and incoherent and the whole fucking time we are begging for reinforcements because like hell we could hold out against the whole Legion.”

“H-holy shit…” Gold stuttered as he looked at the scope of the Ponyarny Inlet presented in the picture. “W-why were there s-so few of you? Y-you'd think they'd have more s-soldiers on the coastline during a War.”

“Mixture of things I guess.” I responded, looking on the right page of the photograph at the battered remains of Withering Heights that was obviously brushed up with fake fire and smoke to make it seem more impressive to the public. “Biggest of all was General Stonewall who thought Ponyarny wasn’t tactically important enough to the Empire to post more than a single Company to defend it. Me and the other four Platoon Lieutenants of 3rd Company demanded our C.O, who wasn’t even on site mind you, for at least another Company to help us shore up the defenses but our requests were repeatedly denied. Humph...I can still hear his stupid Manehatten accent telling me essentially to go fuck myself.”

“Why?” He asked again, scanning the size of the Inlet once more. “I-I mean, it l-looks big enough t-to land a b-bunch of troops on to me. I-I mean, I'm no expert o-obviously.”

“Exactly…” I sighed in response. “They wanted to put the bulk of the 6th Division further north closer to Manehattan and the entire 2nd General Army Corps along the Manehattan Bay. If you go to Friendship City, you can still see the huge network of defenses all along the coastline. Trenches, bunkers, artillery, you name it. The Wall as it came to be simply referred to.”

“C-Corps…?” He asked meekly looking abashed. “Y-you’re using t-terms I don’t k-know.”

“Oh, right...my bad.” I apologized, digging around in my duster’s inside pockets for a pen so I could try and sketch out the overall general idea of the Army’s organization. “So first off your smallest group is the Fire Team, which is four-to-six soldiers usually headed by a Corporal. Next is the Squad headed by a Staff Sergeant, then a Platoon, like what I was leading back then, commanded by a 2nd Lieutenant. After that there’s a Company commanded by a Captain, a Battalion by a Lieutenant Colonel, a Brigade by a Colonel, a Division by a Major General and then a Corps by a Lieutenant General.”

He peered at the ascending list of terms, taking interest in the little symbols I put next to each ranking officer’s title that represented their rank, and nodded seeming to understand a little bit more of the scope of the Army. As I finished my rough doodle, he glanced towards me and seemed to have taken notice of the weathered and battered silver oak leaves still pinned to the lapels of my duster. Thanks to some extreme heat several decades back, they had partially melted and fused with the leather they were pinned to making them a permanent addition to my duster.

“I-is that a M-Major?” He asked, switching focus between the oak leaf doodle on the page and the partially melted one on my lapel.

“No actually, it’s the next rank up. I don’t have colored pencils to point out the difference but the Major has a gold leaf and Lieutenant Colonel, my rank, is silver.”

“H-huh...w-why make it the s-same symbol t-then?” He asked, looking rather confused. “W-why not m-make it like a-another type of leaf or s-something? That w-would be easier t-to understand.”

“It definitely would, but I wasn’t high enough on the pay-grade to make those kinds of decisions. Hell, I don’t think Luna ever even thought about it to be honest since she delegated so much to the military higher-ups all the time. Don’t blame her though, it’s such a tiny ass problem so why would she pay attention to it?”

“Huh...w-well, h-how many people d-does each r-rank command? How far up do the numbers go?”

With a quick alteration I added the appropriate approximate number of individual soldiers found in each group, which were ten, forty, one-hundred and ninety, one-thousand, five-thousand, fifteen-thousand and forty-five thousand soldiers respectively. Funny how quickly something so mundane and obsolete could be called to mind when other similarly obsolete thoughts eluded my memory.

“I-I had no idea s-so many soldiers could e-exist…” He muttered to himself. "S-so many guns and uniforms a-and...just....w-wow!"

“When the whole fucking world is at War and each major power think they’re the sword of righteous judgement, there are no shortage of volunteers. No shortage of patriots.” I replied, thinking back on the fiery passion that had lead me to apply to EastPoint in the first place alongside so many others. “You probably won’t ever see anything like that ever again...hopefully. I mean ya never know with how ponies in general are to be honest. Long as there is a struggle to survive...there will be bloodshed and somepony is gonna want someone else's brains making friends with the ground.”

He laughed a little but nodded saying, “Y-yeah...though, i-it would be c-cool to see s-so many soldiers at o-once.”

“Oh Goddesses it was fucking amazing…” I sighed happily as we were interrupted by Chocolate trotting up to us excitedly.

“Check these fuckers out!” She squealed in delight as she stood in front of us and held one of her new legs out for us to admire. “Ain’t they fuckin' somethin’?”

The paint had fully dried on the matte metal and Cogsworth’s masterful choice of color left the cybernetic limbs almost indistinguishable from the rest of her body save for the slightly off looking hock where the joint servo connected the upper and lower portions of the limb together. With the bandages removed and the area cleaned up, I finally was able to see her cutie mark which, as I suspected, was a raincloud dumping chocolate colored raindrops into a martini glass. I never considered chocolate milk to be a fancy enough drink for a cocktail lounge but then again, it was fucking delicious and way better than any alcohol I could think of. A chocolate milk ‘martini’ didn’t sound bad at all.

“W-wow!” Gold exclaimed as he held her leg in his hooves and examined its immaculate construction. “I-is this Celestium Steel?!”

“Indeed as you say!” Cogsworth boomed happily nearby where he was busy placing the last of his tools away. “I knew not that others knew of metallurgy as I do.”

“Y-you kidding?” Gold squeaked in delight as he showed off his homemade armor. “I l-love armor! T-that’s the reason I t-teamed up with A-Athena in the first p-place!”

Cogsworth chuckled and looked towards me asking, “Is that so my friend? And what act lead to this colt becoming thine companion?”

Gold dashed off back into the Stable to grab the helmet and armor we had recovered from Camp Macintosh before I even had a chance to respond and was back less than a minute later with the pile of Pre-War relics floating behind him in his magic.

“Oh my…” Cogsworth hummed as he took the ancient helmet in his hooves and looked it over. “Is this not the genesis of your armor’s design my friend?”

I nodded and gestured to the Desert Ranger’s dragon logo painted on the black breastplate laying on the table beside him on top of the tan leather duster.

“Damn straight, Cogs.” I laughed as I looked over it for myself, feeling pangs of nostalgia prick at my thoughts at the outdated but familiar design. “One of the original sets of Mrk. I Veteran Ranger armor before they decided to up the ballistic protection on the design. We found it in Camp Macintosh along some other pristine relics.”

He looked up from his examination with a confused expression but I knew why.

“I recall you stating firmly you would never dare to enter the places of your past…” He said cautiously, switching his attention between me and Gold.

“Well…” I sighed, looking at Gold then back up at him. “Things...things are starting to change for me Cogs. I’ve stayed aloof from my problems for what, ten decades at least? I can’t stay the same mare I have been…I can't keep sitting on my ass adding digits to my age and not doing a goddamned thing worthy of the post-apocalyptic history books!”

“Pity your change in life choices had to coincide with the wrath of Green Peace…perhaps then this would be a more ample time to celebrate such a change.” He mumbled before returning to his drooling over the helmet.

As Gold began to gush about the Rangers and how I had promised to get the helmet and armor resized for him, I caught up with Chocolate who was busying herself by downing a few bottles of Sparkle-Cola from one of the many fridges lining the wall of the workshop. Already there were four bottles on the floor by her hooves and she quickly guzzled down her fifth as I approached, belching loudly as she dropped the empty bottle alongside the others. I always felt more at ease around another mare if she wasn't afraid to let out a good, loud burp. A good metric for how much of a tomboy I could be around her and not put her off with my behavior.

“Well heya hot stuff!” She giggled as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hoof. “Ya ready to rock n’ roll?”

“If by rock n’ roll you mean move out then no.” I said, taking a bottle of Sparkle-Cola Rad from the nearest fridge and staring into the soft purple glow emanating from the bottle from the liquid inside. “I didn’t exactly plan this whole thing out so I’m just pulling ideas out of my ass as we go along hoping I come across a good path to follow.”

“Heh...I mean somethin’ different but hey, that works too baby.” She giggled as she gave a small wink and sat down against one of Cogsworth’s many toolboxes.

“You’re a brave mare drinking so much of Cog’s personal stash you know.” I mentioned, gesturing to the pile of bottles at her hooves. “If you can’t tell, he’s a bit more than obsessed with the stuff so it’s dangerous to mess with a guy and his addictions.”

“Phbbbt, whateva!” She laughed, kicking one of the bottles towards me. “I’m a medical patient so I get ta drink whateva I want. Regain my strength and all that.”

I shrugged my shoulders with a sigh and sat beside her, still holding the bottle of Sparkle-Rad and getting mired in my own thoughts.

“Damn it feels good to be able to walk again.”

“I bet…” I mumbled, lost in thought still staring into the glowing liquid.

“How much these things gonna cost ya anyway?” She asked, laying on her back and swinging her legs open and closed admiring them.

An idea came to mind the moment she mentioned the cost of her operation. I knew Cogsworth wasn’t going to accept a single cap for the procedure even if I tried to force him to accept payment for his time and materials...but it was the cost of the procedure that had my gears working hard around an idea. To pay 20,000 caps per limb wasn’t the problem in that moment, it was the reality of the sheer individual number of caps one would have to carry on their person in order to pay for them that had me thinking. A cap is only worth just that, a single cap. As a system of representative money, it had everything it needed to be the perfect currency of the post apocalypse. They were relatively rare but not too rare as to be unobtainable, they were corrosion resistant due to the materials used and, perhaps most importantly, the methods to make them (or fake them) were extremely difficult to come across if not entirely non-existent. The latter part was what made caps so genius in terms of Post-War commerce as the technology and magic used to make genuine bottlecaps was lost. This meant forgery was insanely difficult to pull off as any smart merchant knew what real caps looked and felt like from extensive experience working with the real thing. There had to be a better way of making them do more than they already were...

“Yo, bitchlord!” Chocolate called out, kicking me softly with her back hoof which definitely felt harder than a normal hoof leaving the spot a bit sore. “You listening or are ya thinkin’ about how much you wanna ride the Chocolate Express eh?”

I giggled a little but retained enough composure to try and pass my idea on past her to see if I wasn’t just spouting nonsense. I felt I was onto something. Maybe nothing would come of it but since the idea was in my head, we were safe for the moment and I had a listening ear, wouldn't hurt to air it out loud.

“I am! Or...at least I was earlier but hear me out for a moment would ya?” I asked, looking down at where she lay, her posture quickly changing from one of lazy lounging to a hastily posed look of seduction the moment she caught me looking directly at her.

“Eh...if ya put that mouth of yours to good use afterwards then yeah, I’ll hear your idea.” She giggled seductively, flicking her tail against the ground to bring the attention of my peripherals on her snatch.

“Heh...fine.” I smirked. “Best deal I’ve made since I got a crate of .50s for a bag of coffee beans.”

She propped herself up against the tool box once more as I started forming my idea out loud.

“Alright, so you know caps are only worth just one cap apiece?” I asked, trying to set the stage.

“Yep.” She replied as if I were stupid. “What about ‘em?”

“Well, there’s more than just regular Sparkle-Cola out there right?” I said excitedly, glad I had at least part of her attention on my idea and not just my mouth. “I mean, there’s the Cherry and Rad version right?”

“Yep.” She replied, looking at the cold bottles of Cola in the fridges behind me. “I like Cherry but they’re harder to find...they ain’t as cheap either.”

“Exactly!” I exclaimed, yanking a bottle of Sparkle-Cola Cherry from a fridge and holding it up next to the bottle of Rad I already had. “Cherry is rarer than the regular Cola and Rad is rarer still!”

“Great detecting skills Sheerluck, are you gonna keep blabbering about shit everypony knows or should I just yank your head into my pussy now and shut you up in a wave of cum?”

“Sorry.” I apologized, taking a second to calm down before I started tripping over my words. “My idea is this: what if every cap wasn’t just the same old cap? What if, because Cherry and Rad are less common than regular Sparkle-Cola, the caps from them were worth more than a regular cap?”

“What you mean…?” She asked, her tone and expression changing to one of interest.

“Like what if instead of a Rad cap being considered worth just one cap, it was worth like ten caps?” I said with some excitement, popping open the bottle of Rad and Cherry with a pleasant and aromatic hiss. “It would make buying shit a hell of a lot easier would it not?”

“How…?” She asked, holding out a hoof for the bottle of Cherry which I floated over to her.

“Let’s say you want to buy a box of something worth fifty caps, k? Instead of having to pay fifty individual caps, which is annoying as fuck to count out in a hurry, you just pay the dude five Rad caps and call it a day? They're all clearly labeled so just a quick glance will let them know what kind of caps you're paying.” I replied before taking a swig of the sweet radish flavored drink that cascaded down my throat with a happy, sparkling feeling that left a warm glow in my stomach.

“Huh...that would make buying shit easier…” She agreed, already three-quarters of the way through her sixth bottle of Cola. “I gotta say, that’s a pretty rad idea.”

I sighed and looked at her with a slightly disappointed glance as I said, “For that pun, I’m gonna tease ya for awhile.”

“Bring it on bitchlord!” She challenged with a wide grin of defiance, getting to her hooves so we could take care of business. “I bet you ten caps I’ll last longer than you.”

As we walked past Melody and Gold, who were browsing through the magazine on the Steel Rangers from earlier, I giggled, “Yeah, Hucks used to say the same thing every night we had a chance to get busy...I made five grand in two months. You’re on girlfriend.”

“I can’t feel my legs…” Chocolate whined as we walked out of the Stable and back into the workshop, her gait waddling and staggering a bit beside me.

“Told ya!” I giggled as I wiggled my hips to get my tail to sit correctly between the tails of my duster. “Every mare has her weakness, all you have to do is spend a few minutes exploring her and you’ll find it. Once you find it, you unleash the fury on it until she can’t see straight!”

“Or walk straight…” She mumbled as she staggered into me, pausing for a moment to lean against me for support.

“Yeah, that too. I gotta say though, I’m really impressed with your stamina though.” I said with a smile still moist from earlier. “Nice use of that bottle by the way. Wasn’t expecting that.”

“Heh…” She giggled softly, looking back at the half-closed Stable door with longing. “Shame we didn’t have more time to go again...I think I could beat ya this time.”

I rattled the small bag of caps I had won from our bet and winked.

“Bitch, you lost eight times in a row, I don’t think you’re gonna win this anytime soon. Besides, you can barely walk with how wrecked your ass is.” I retorted with a grin, shaking the bag of caps near her face like a victory rattle. "Admit it, you've met your match."

“Nine’s my lucky number so back right the fuck up.” She sighed with a soft chuckle. “But I guess ya right, I’m gonna lose again. How in the fuck did you learn to twist around like that?”

We exited into the workshop proper where Cogsworth sat amidst a shower of multicolored sparks arcing from the arcane welding stylus in his hoof while Gold and Melody looked on, mesmerized with the fantastic lightshow being put on before them. Currently in the works was what appeared to be a smallish helmet and I could only assume Cogs was busy making Gold his tailored Ranger armor. On the table laid a small black breastplate that was half finished, pieces of the segmented metal plating still missing from the ballistic padding underneath and lying to the side waiting to be fastened to the material. It was always fascinating to see the inner workings of the R-series, particularly how the breastplate pieces overlapped and shifted around somewhat to flex with the motions of the body while worn taking inspiration from Dragon scales. While the flex could arguably be improved, for what it was it was far more comfortable to wear and dance around the battlefield in than most other versions of the M-CAT in service.

“Huckleberry challenged me to eat myself out when we first started dating and I spent a year stretching my body and spine to its limits just to show her up. Found a Warrant Officer who used to practice as a chiropractor and yoga instructor who was willing to help me achieve my body's full potential.” I explained quietly so as to not break the mesmerizing spell over the foals. “Once I managed that...I found it came in handy in more ways than just licking my own cunt so I kept on stretching and stretching until almost no pose was too painful for me to take up.”

“Oh? What could be more useful than that?” She asked, leaning against me again as her hind legs trembled slightly which made us both smile with amusement.

“Well first off is just moving around in general.” I said distractedly, my own attention being drawn to the beautiful shimmering sparkles coming from Cogsworth’s work. “Walking, trotting, galloping...everything really. When Hucks and I started taking martial arts training at EastPoint, I had an advantage when it came to grapples and escaping from holds since I could just wriggle my way out of most of my sparring partner’s grip. Hucks took some dance classes on the side and we kind of got into a competition to see who could be the most flexible and poise perfect dance partner. I have multiple double joints to work with in my body and all the years of using it combatively have left a lot of muscle behind.”

“So both of ya could fold in half on yourselves? Damn…” She mused quietly. “So the stretching really came in handy for war huh? Ain't somethin' I'd think of normally but I guess I can see some use for it.”

“Mhm. A good stretch before every fight could be the key to surviving another day. Plus, when somepony puts you in a stress position, you won’t hurt as bad as others since you’ll be used to stretching your limbs at strange angles. Zebras were all highly trained in hoof-to-hoof combat, it served as a sort of right of passage to adulthood in their culture at the time. Unfortunately that meant 98% of the enemies you'd encounter are even more dangerous when unarmed, especially with the trench walls giving them every opportunity to be acrobatic and get behind you somehow. Had to learn to fight like them in order to match them...when someone fights dirty, you gotta be willing to wrestle in the mud right with 'em.”

“And to top off the dirty, you can still eat yourself out at the end of the day, right?” She giggled, bumping my flank playfully with hers. "Not a bad set-up."

“Heh, that too. Though that was really hard to do anytime we were on tour since there is little in the way of personal privacy in the military. If they found out about her and I, we’d probably have been executed. Or at the very least court martialed and convicted for life at a place like Shattered Hoof.”

“Shattered Hoof? Eh, I’ve been there once or twice...not a fan.” She replied in a bored tone. “Sure the guys are rough enough but them beds honey? Fuckin’ squeak like a mouse bustin’ his load on a bat.”

I looked at her queerly and she looked at me with an incredulous expression as if I was an idiot for calling her out on her bizarre analogy.

“What?” She sighed rolling her eyes. “The beds squeak a fuckin’ bunch an’ it’s hard to get into it when you can’t even hear yaself screamin’ for more. That’s one sure way to get any girl dry.”

“Well...now that you put it like that…” I admitted, dwelling on the idea longer than I expected I would. “I guess I’d have to agree with you. A squeaky bed or couch would really kill the mood for me.”

“Heh, there ya go girl. Get your head out of reality and back into the gutter where it belongs.” She smirked, bumping me again. “Life’s betta with a little dirt in it. Besides, ain't like anypony around really gives enough of a damn about what ya do with your pussy. Everyone's gotta get humped or do some humpin', just a fact of life.”

“That it is.” I agreed with a small smile as the light show ended and Cogsworth stepped away from his work with an even more tired grin of triumph on his face. Poor guy had been going for most of the day now between working on Chocolate and now Gold...

“And thus it is finished!” He proclaimed proudly to his assembled audience, gesturing with no little amount of flair to the black and grey helmet set on a stand before him. “One-half inch of the finest Celestium Steel integrated with StableTec’s finest microfilament crystal wiring and the PipBuck 3000 operating system. This stands as the first modern-day recreation of Desert Ranger armored technology and I am most honored to have been allowed to partake in its creation, in particular this pristine version of the original Mrk. I model. The M-CAT [R] might yet be seen again in numbers wandering the desert.”

The helmet itself didn’t look all that different from the larger stallion-sized version we had taken from Camp Macintosh. The most notable of changes were the lenses which were a slightly darker shade of maroon than before and the antenna and radio/light package attached to the right side of the helmet looked more functional than before. The lens of the tactical light was a good two inches wider in circumference making for a much brighter light while the radio package looked like it had been repurposed from another type of helmet; more than likely taken from a derelict M-CAT5 based off the overall shape. Aside from those minor changes and the overall darker color scheme, it still retained the single air filter attached to the mask and seemed basically unchanged. I had to wonder if Gold had requested that the armor and helmet continue to look like the old Mrk. I despite Cogs being more than capable of whipping up some extra bits of armor based off my own to protect the shoulders, hips, thighs and hindlegs.

While Gold tried on his new helmet with no little amount of enthusiasm, Cogsworth turned to the breastplate and busied himself with fastening the few remaining metal sections to the long-fiber Kevyarn. It had been quite awhile since I had seen Kevyarn so clean and new and I found myself brushing my hoof over the thick charcoal grey fibers and feeling the soft vibrations tickle the tip of my hoof. Such a quirky substance and I always preferred the feeling of long-fiber to the short variety seen in soft ballistic vests.

“What’s this shit here?” Chocolate asked as she peeked over my shoulder at the nearly finished breastplate. “We just welding metal to a chair pad or somethin’?”

“Heh, it kinda looks like a chair pad doesn’t it?” I laughed as I looked at it from her perspective and noticed the similarity. “No, this is long-fiber Kevyarn. If you wanna keep with the chair pad analogy, just think of it as a bullet resistant chair pad used by the Army.”

“Huh...if it’s bulletproof then why ya puttin’ metal on it?” She asked, tapping the matte black metal while Cogsworth paused to form the neck guard the old fashioned way using a hammer, a forge and an anvil, the ping of metal striking metal very soothing on my ears.

“Ah, ah...I said bullet resistant sweet lips, there’s a big difference here.” I corrected. “Bulletproof means it can take any reasonable caliber of bullet and shrug it off no big deal. That term is reserved for something like metal plating on a Sky Bandit, Vertibird or a Scorpio. Resistant just means it can take quite a few different kinds of hits but can still be compromised by either too many shots or taking on something bigger than it can handle.”

“Heh...bigger than it can handle eh? I like the sound of that.” She giggled to herself as Cogsworth returned from his hammering and fastened the neck guard and remaining two pieces of metal to the breastplate with a speed and grace you'd expect more from a dancer than a smith.

“These are far easier to manufacture than I had expected.” Cogsworth mused as he opened another paint can, this one made of solid steel with a complicated lid fastening system that hissed slightly as it was removed. “I am now going to apply a few coats of silver-ablative paint to increase its refractive capabilities against energy weapons. Any advantage is a viable one to have in combat after all and even a modicum of protection against magical weapons is better than naught at all, rare as those weapons are in these wretched times we live in.”

“Wait, silver-ablative paint?” I asked with surprise as he mixed the thick silvery substance with black dye to match the color scheme of the armor from a large collection of paints. “Since when in the fuck did you get this?”

“I obtained it from a merchant visiting from Manehattan.” He explained in between brush strokes, the thick viscous liquid adhering to the metal and drying almost instantly with unsettling quickness. “He informed me he had discovered a cache of the substance within the confines of a derelict Ministry of Wartime Technology manufacturing plant in the industrial sector of Manehattan. Truly a blessed discovery.”

“Oh? Let me guess...he’s a Ghoul.” I surmised since just about everything Ministry related was irradiated to hell either due to bombing or contamination from their Crystalline Fusion Cores suffering a meltdown from lack of maintenance over two hundred something years.

“That he is.” He chuckled, though there was a hint of disgust and pity in his voice. “Only reason he knew of its existence was due to him having once been of the employ of that particular factory. Part of his face and the skin on his body was lost in the detonation of one of the plant’s CFCs. It is a miracle he survived at all but he is a very reliable merchant. I bought his full store of silver paint for eight-thousand caps and a personal robotic assistant at a handsome discount to assist with his travels. I have made some fair trades in my time but this is by far amongst the finest I ever have had the pleasure of documenting in my ledgers.”

“Damn, that’s a pretty good price, can’t come by this shit anymore. Well, unless you can somehow scrape it off the T-51’s and reuse it but chances of even finding a set of that shit is low.” I commented, inspecting the slightly faded label on the can. "Well...this far out West at least. Who knows how many those psycho ass Tin Heads have in their armories...sure as hell ain't me, I ain't going into their territories unless I absolutely have to and we ain't anywhere close to that yet."

“What kind of paint is this?” Melody asked, licking her lips slightly at the sight of the thick silvery liquid in the can. “It looks like liquid moonlight! Wish it didn't look so...tasty...”

“It’s a special paint the Army would put on Power Armor and some of their later generation combat armors to help protect against magical energy weapons and Necromantic weapons. The silver is enchanted with...I think it was some special Lunar magic created by Princess Luna back in the day. I could be wrong...anywho, the point is it basically acts as a mirror of sorts. It refracts, or deflects away, energy that otherwise would have burned a hole in your chest. It’s a thin layer but honestly I’ve seen it make a difference more than once in a gunfight. And I'm not talking a skirmish with a bunch of Raiders, I'm talking full-on professional armies in open, brutal, years-long combat. Can turn a partial burnout into a deflection and a direct hit can be reduced in strength somewhat so if your armor on its own is already tough, you just might survive. Can never go wrong with some extra protection no matter what kind it is.”

“Soooo...would a condom work?” Chocolate giggled.

“Sure, think of it like a condom if you’d like. It’s just an extra layer of protection against nasty shit that’ll kill you.” I replied, raising my hooves in defeat. "Of all things to compare it to..."

“W-what’s a c-condom…?” Gold asked cluelessly, thankfully his question went unanswered as the paint job was completed and he was finally allowed to don the breastplate along with his new helmet. His repeated cries of, 'Holy fucking shit!' and 'Yes! Yes! Yes!' drowned her out although just from Gold's tone alone he was experiencing an orgasm of his own.

The smooth, new look of the armor clashed with the mottled gold fur and reddish muscles of his body and he appeared strangely naked without anything covering the back of his neck or legs but at least his head, torso and the front of his neck were protected now. He still needed bracers, greaves, faulds and boots just to cover the rest of his body from harm but most importantly, he still needed a duster. No self-respecting Ranger would allow himself to go anywhere without his combat duster but that brought us to yet another problem that needed to be addressed.

“The coat you currently possess is not armored enough for extreme combative situations.” Cogsworth explained as he held up the canvas-like material of the duster we had brought with us. “The coat used by Athena and the other Rangers during the War are composed of Dragon leather with short-fiber Kevyarn inserts and Celestium reinforcement of the shoulders and forelegs. The Kevyarn and Celestium I have in mine possession, however the leather...that particular kind will be difficult to obtain I am afeard to admit.”

“W-well...I c-can just w-wear this one then.” Gold replied, his voice sounding grainy rather than muffled indicating the PipBuck system and microphone were working properly now. “Can y-you just a-armor this o-one?”

Cogsworth nodded though followed up with, “I can, though it will not possess the same level of protection as Athena’s coat provides and the flexibility will be negatively impacted with the addition of Kevyarn inserts and fastened metal. Dragon leather is incredibly resilient to wear from exterior forces, ever more so with the aforementioned inserts.”

“And, if you get it treated right with some enchantments, it self-repairs itself if its ever torn or punctured and at least 40% of the material survives. Just like a Dragon wing.” I said proudly, showing off the minimal amount of scuffs in the tan/brown material compared to the rather deep scoring in my bracers, greaves and pauldrons. “Overall, probably one of the best materials for armor if you’re looking to go light, flexible and sturdy and wanna splurge on something better than treated Radigator hide.”

“W-wow...I k-knew Dragons were b-badass but t-that’s just amazing!” Gold said as he felt the grooved texture of my duster against his leg.

“Damn straight. Shame so few exist these days...the Pox of the 2050s and forced resettlement in the early 60s really broke the entire race apart. Next to impossible to find any these days which sucks because their bodies are a goldmine of rare, unique substances. Doesn't matter if you practice witchcraft or leatherworking, there is something for everyone to be found in a Dragon. Thankfully...we can rest easy knowing there is a captive pen of Feral Dragons nearby for us to poke through.” I chuckled as I checked my PipBuck out of blatant curiosity to see if I had any vials of Dragon saliva on my person; the sudden urge to make Dragon Spit rounds coming to mind after discussing my UE rounds for the 25mm. “Damnit...and I don’t think I have any in my bags either…”

“Hmm?” Cogsworth hummed, looking up from his own PipBuck which was connected by a cable to the back of Gold's helmet running diagnostics on the HUD.

“Dragon saliva.” I explained, double checking the itemized inventory list of my saddlebags and various pouches and pockets but finding nothing under ‘D’ but 25mm 'Dual-Purpose' rounds. “I don’t have any and I really want to make some DS rounds for my AMR since I seem to be completely outa them. I feel safer having them in my arsenal. And before you ask, no I will not just fallback to using thermite-incendiary rounds. They don't have even close to the splash radius of DS rounds and it burns out too soon with a 2.5 inch projectile. Maybe if Barnette had another couple years they could have made a 30mm variant of this bitch and we just might be able to have that thermite conversation but we ain't in that alternate reality.”

“Ah...I am afraid to inform you that I too do not possess the substance myself.” He replied apologetically, checking his own list just in case. "If I had known, I would have obtained some on your behalf in preparation for your return."

“It's fine, Cogs..." I sighed softly before looking at the group. "Well...guess I’ll just have to visit the Dark Market myself.”

I picked up what personal effects I had allowed myself to let out of sight and continued, “Besides, we can pick up some Dragon leather there too since their younger Ferals shed at least every month during their growth spurt. Really was hoping to avoid going there with all that's been going on but I feel that uncomfortable not having those rounds in my bandolier. Ah well...least I can pick up the leather we need at the same time since old Scalie knows his shit.”

“Indeed. Perhaps you can also discover somepony who knows of a new domicile for you. People there come from all corners of the globe, perhaps you might happen upon one from the Continent with information you seek.” Cogsworth reminded. “If you plan on returning here, would you be so kind as to requisition a decanter or two of Cockatrice blood and powdered black gemstones? Preferably from the Crystal Empire but if they only possess domestics in their stock that will suffice. I understand fully well how difficult foreign acquisitions can be...”

I nodded in response and made a note on my PipBuck to remind me once I got to the Market since I knew I would immediately forget the second I stepped through those amazingly creepy arches and saw the hellish landscape of stalls, cages, pits and all the weirdos even the Wasteland couldn’t handle. The Market was...a rather difficult topic to dissect given it seems to have always existed even before the Equestrian-Zebra War. It was a pocket dimension created by a lone mad Shaman of the old Zebra tribes who had blended their Voodoo magic with that of Equestrian spatial magic as a refuge to flee from the Elders who sought his life. Someone discovered the Tear that lead to it some time after his death and since has expanded it into what it was today: a bizarre refuge for those who wished to remain in the shadows. The Market itself had spawned on its own as these outcasts set up shop to barter and trade with each other and the magic within it grew darker and darker with so much saturation of what were previously forbidden arts. As it grew to accommodate the ever expanding population that lived and worked there, more Tears began to form across the globe that allowed entry. The first few were random, such as two that led to the Dwem cities in the Greifenlander, but a way was discovered to create them at specific points on the map which allowed for easy access from all the major countries that survived the world intact enough.

“Just how dangerous is the...Dark Market? Did I get the name right?” Melody asked as we walked onto the skybridge headed towards the stairs leading towards the basement of The Pile where the Dark Market resided.

“You got it right.” I smiled as she clung to my leg but walked with more confidence than before. “It’s only dangerous if you don’t seem confident in yourself or make a bad impression with the merchants. There’s a certain...culture down there that has to be followed and adhered to diligently. They have their own language of sorts. If you want to get the best deals and not get ripped off, or worse blacklisted, you have to learn to speak it.”

“Huh...weird.” Melody replied as we reached the stairs without incident though I noticed there was some commotion near the front doors that I hazarded to guess was more of Green’s goons. “Will you teach me how to speak...Dark Marketian?”

“Heh, sure!” I giggled softly. “If you gain their trust, you’ll be safe down there for the most part. The merchants will be on your side if you’re in trouble.”

‘I hope…’ I thought nervously.

Next Chapter: Chapter Twenty-Two: Ruminations on Friendship Estimated time remaining: 21 Hours, 31 Minutes