When I awoke, I was wrapped up snuggly in bed once more; soft, fluffy and...alone? I opened my eyes slowly feeling more refreshed than I had in recent memory and looked eagerly for the minty mare beside me only to see the bed depressingly empty. Not only that but the entire bedroom seemed empty. Panic flooded my poor, defenselessly cozy mind and I flung myself out of bed in a heap as my magic buried itself deep into my tail and yanked out the little Swift&Western Undercover Carry Revolver from its special holster. It was a custom made sub-nosed .38/.357 Magnus revolver with an eight round capacity and a compensator for the light Celestium frame to help with the above-average recoil of such a tiny gun with a surprising amount of bite for its size. I already knew it was fully loaded so I didn't even bother checking the cylinder like I normally would. This was my backup gun and it was always kept topped off and I had yet to use it outside of the range.

After I had swept the bathroom and found nothing I burst into the living room, rolling across the ground to put distance between myself and my last known location using the island in the kitchen as cover. As I crouched against it, straining my ears past the snare drum that was my heart, two sensory inputs made contact with my brain from both my ears and my nose. My ears heard the sound of happy humming with a lot of heavy sizzling from what I could only assume was the stovetop while my nose caught whiff of the delicious smell of sautéed mushrooms and onions. And me, being the genius I was, had thought mom had been abducted or something. Fucking moron I swear to Celestia…

“Well hello there!” Mom called out heartily as I stood up from my hiding place behind her island trying to regain my composure from earlier. “Decided to let you get some more sleep after I cleaned you up and got you all dried off and all that. I got hungry while I was watching T.V and decided omelets sounded amazing right now. And...yeah. Not really much else to be honest, been a very quiet morning. You look a bit frazzled dear...bad dreams?”

I reluctantly set my revolver on the counter next to me and sat down with a heavy sigh as I tried to come up with the best way of explaining my overactive (and arguably overprotective) behavior. Instead she picked up my weapon and turned it over and over in her hooves with rapt interest. When her golden aura of magic popped open the cylinder and she eyed the eight gleaming brass cases with shiny undented primers, she gasped in utter surprise much like I had when I was in the process of ordering the gun. I loved that she was a bit of a gun nut herself, something we both inherited from my grandfather who had been amongst the first ponies to come into contact with firearms after they had first been imported from the Greifenländer.

“Eight rounds??” She gasped as she looked up at me with a hoof to her mouth in dainty surprise. “Of .357 Magnus? Where on earth did you get this?”

“S&W.” I said with a smile. “It’s my emergency ‘tail’ gun. The Swift&Western Undercover Carry Revolver. It’s part of their new line under the Military & Police brand designed for undercover cops who want to keep a high capacity, respectably high-powered snub-nosed revolver on them at any given time. This one is a bit more special, not to mention spendy, than the OG version. This one has a Celestium steel frame reducing the weight down to couple ounces as well as being corrosion and weatherproof. Also got an eight-port compensator to help with the recoil of such a light gun and the grip is covered with a prototype update of FlexiMesh called SynthiMesh which was purported to absorb twice as much kinetic energy than original FlexiMesh. Since I use magic for guns though, I couldn't tell you if its soft on the mouth or not as advertised.”

“Well...damn. Sounds like you know this thing better than you know yourself.” Mom replied with a laugh before serving me up an onion and mushroom omelet that was as thick as my thigh. “Eat up little lady. Pretty thing like you needs to keep up her stamina so she can eat other things later.”

“What, mouthwash for desert? Not this early in the morning, thanks. Besides, wouldn't mix well with all this tasty goodness.” I giggled, blowing a raspberry when she huffed and puffed herself up a bit in indignation, the effort making her appear all the more fluffy.

“Minty fresh before bed or wake tomorrow smelling like the dead!” She chided, quoting her own company tagline which she said had been inspired by my halitosis as a kid.

“Yeah, sure whatever.” I laughed, taking a massive bite of my meal and sighing in delight as her culinary charms had worked extra hard this time around to please me. “Fuck me this is good…”

“I’m glad you like it!” She smiled as she served herself up and sat at the barstool next to me. “I sautéed the vegetables in olive oil and Badlands Bourbon to give it a more smoky, full-bodied flavor. And before you ask, yes. Cooking is where 75% of my liquor cabinet goes, not my stomach. I’m old but not stupid darling...I know my liver and body aren’t what they used to be even with the extra longevity. So, a tip of the wise: you’ll only be this age and this fit once in your life so don’t be afraid to live a little while you’re still a catch. Of course, with Huckleberry as your unofficial bride I think you have the cat well in the bag already.”

We ate in a comfortable, companionable silence until mom declared she was too uncomfortable eating at the counter and wanted to move back to bed. This way, she could cuddle me, eat her breakfast and watch television all while laying back on one of the softest king-size pillow top mattresses I had ever had the pleasure of sleeping on. With no complaints from me she and I moved ourselves and our half-eaten breakfast back into the bedroom where we yet again ended up cuddled close and eventually feeding each other bites of our food. All the while, a rerun of an old episode of Baking Bad played on T.V. If you asked anyone from my generation why a show about illicit baking activities from my mom’s era was still fun and heavily merchandised to this day...I’m not sure anyone would be able to give you a straight, well thought out answer. Ponies just seemed to still find the premise of a school teacher from Appleloosa turning to an illegal baking business to support her family during a drought a lot of fun. Enough fun for the series to be greenlit for a modern day reboot with big name actors and all the cutesy cheesiness of the original being replaced with a darker, more mature perspective just like just about everything else in Equestria that was getting updated and/or being forced to accept the new state of world affairs and the depression that comes with that.

“What time is our reservation tonight?” I asked when it went to commercial break three minutes after starting, giving us a solid ten-to-fifteen minutes to talk before the show came on again for another three minutes. Four if there was an action scene in the episode.

“Hmm? Oh, I set it for seven p.m. so you and I will have plenty of time to get ready as well as time to hit the town!” She said excitedly, pulling the covers partially from off herself before she seemed to remember she had a horn and used that instead to float out her purse. “I’ve been saving 10% out of every paycheck so you and I can go on a shopping trip!”

She then proceeded to dig deep into her purse pulling out a small money purse with the National Bank of Equestria logo (a gold and silver Yin/Yang sun and moon) embroidered right into the fabric that seemed a bit too thick for even leather. When I took it and felt the material under my hooves I recognized it immediately. Kevyarn; the short-fiber variety as well. Bullet resistant moneybags from a national bank...that is what things had come to.

“You know this bag is made of Kevyarn right?” I asked her as she took it back, poked the knot tying it shut with her horn and then watched as it untied itself for her at her touch.

“Of course! That’s why I paid extra for it!” She said proudly, turning the bag over and catching a dozen large shiny gold coins in her hoof. “Slash and pierce proof from any blade, bullet and fire resistant, waterproof, has a lifetime guarantee and it only unties itself for me since the string is attuned to my unique magical signature. Well worth the extra cost believe you me. Even if I was mugged they'd have a hell of a time getting the thing open.”

I glanced at the money in her hooves and was dumbfounded to see each of the coins bearing several zeroes embossed in the metal as well as small white diamonds set just below the Royal Crest on the face of the coin. These weren’t quarter-bit coins you got from grandma to go to the candy section with. These were big league coins. Big league coins worth twenty-five grand each.

“Mom...uh...um...wh-...” I stammered as I stared at the Royal Crest and the little white diamond embossed in gold just below the large, well carved 25,000 moniker. “This is too rich for me mom. I don’t need to go shopping. I’ve got plenty of what I need back at home and the Corps gives me everything else I need to do my job.”

“Oh come now!” She chided, returning her savings to her stab-proof moneybag. “When’s the last time you were home and not on active duty in at least some capacity?”

“Like...three years ago?” I replied, thinking about how I had to sell my little place in New Pegasus because I just simply didn’t live at home long enough to justify paying rising rent costs and near non-existent utilities. “But that just proves my point. I don’t have time for civie things. Only clothes I wear are my armor, my fatigues or my dress uniform and that last one is only for special occasions anyway. Food is provided for me and I don’t have a refrigerator for leftovers and even if I did own one, I would just use it to cool me down during the summer. Soooo…I…don’t see what I can take home with me that's reasonable enough for the brass to led slide.”

“Well, who said this was for clothing and accessories?” She asked cheekily as she stood up and took her empty plate to the kitchen, myself instinctually following her so I could hear her without her having to yell from the other room.

“What do you mean...? What did you have in mind?” I replied, eying her curiously as she quickly washed down our plates and set them to dry on a rack next to her cooking dishes.

“Oh I’m looking for something like this for myself.” She said with a smile, tapping my little tail gun affectionately. “Mrs. Crown got mugged the other day walking home from work and I don’t know about you but I would rather have some kind of protection for myself. Oh wait. I do know about you.”

“Heh...yeah. No complaints out of me though, weapons are always good to have on you, especially these days. City's gotten that bad huh?”

“It's always been at least kinda bad darling, it's Manehatten for Celestia's sake. And besides, you’re the little lady with an eight-shot peashooter shoved up your tail. You of all mares knows it's always smart to be prepared for the worst.”

“Well, that’s kinda undercut when I remind you that everyone has a gun down there. Even Dark Blaze from the Engineers is always packing and he does everything he can to avoid conflict if he can manage it.” I replied with a laugh as I spent a few moments trying to get my weapon back into its holster before attempting to mask its profile under layers of green and blue hair.

“Oh yes! I remember him!” She exclaimed with excitement before breaking down in hysterical laughter in which I too joined in once I remembered. “O-oh my Celestia I forgot about that!”

Somewhere in the rough region of two years ago mom had organized a dinner party for me and my friends so she could get to know everyone I was fighting alongside better. Dark Blaze was still a relatively new friend of a few months while everyone in Alpha (back then Beta) Squad were all already familiar with my mother. Dark Blaze was an Engineer, a down-to-earth kind of guy who avoided conflict when he could and preferred to help others kick ass by modding service weapons and personalizing them out of the back of his mobile workshop cart when he had free time. One of the few Pegusi to join the Engineers Corps rather than the obvious Airborne Corps, he had suffered a freak accident as a colt in Cloudsdale that ended up with his wings getting entirely amputated down to the wing sockets in his spine. Even though he could still walk freely on clouds like any other Pegasus (thanks to their natural charm), he was as good as an Earth pony without his wings. That is until he got his cutie mark of course.

His father, a mid-level scientist for the Ministry of War Pegasus Division, had raised his son in a highly scientific household with weekly subscriptions to The Scientific Equestrian and Innovation Magazine as well as monthly subscriptions to Equestrian Riflemare and Guns and Ammo. Around the age of 14, Blaze had been to enough robotics seminars and had enough hooves-on experience to attempt to fix his own injury...and the little bastard somehow managed to pull it off. Within a month of his 14th birthday he had finally gotten his cutie mark and had the crude, if effective, pair of cybernetic wings to prove it. Naturally his father pounced on his son’s genius and sent him off to the Trottingham School of Trades to earn the degree needed to both perfect his son’s craft as well as the credentials needed for him to patent his ideas.

Returning to the dinner party, Blaze had chosen that night to unveil his then latest incarnation of cybernetic wings for the handicapable Pegusi using himself as the test subject as he had with all his wing products. The night had gone amazingly. Buck Beak had limited his drinking so he didn’t hit on my mom that time around, Penny had taught mom how to properly care for her rare Nyx flowers, Hucks and I rocked a duet on karaoke and Blaze got a little too excited when Hucks fell asleep on his shoulder and her head slipped into his lap. He popped a boner but not the kind you immediately think of. Nah...poor sap got a very spring-loaded cybernetic wingboner that clocked Rain Dancer right in the jaw and ended up knocking out a molar and chipping three other teeth. Thankfully mom was there and took us to her clinic (at 11:30 p.m on a Saturday mind you) and fixed Dancer up good as new. She also gave him a generous dose of Medix for his troubles so he could sleep that night as well as a long list of cavities that needed filling to keep him awake and in constant fear of gingivitis. All in all, one of the most memorable dinner parties I had ever been to that didn’t involve a lot of alcohol and a strip club at some point during the night. Although I had to admit I did enjoy the chaos of a bar brawl with the Squad.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me.” I managed to choke out after several minutes of laughter. “He wanted me to tell you he finally got the last one taken care of.”

“Oh?” She asked with a light giggle in her voice as we stood and got ready to leave. “It took him two years to get sixteen cavities filled? No wonder he doesn’t have a mare...guy must have halitosis out the flank.”

I bobbed my head in agreement as it didn’t take a licensed orthodontist to tell me that Dancer had terrible breath. There was a reason he slept on the top bunk at a higher elevation from everyone else’s noses and wore his helmet even more often than even I did. He knew just as well as we did that he had a huge problem but sadly nothing (and I mean nothing) any of us tried had any effect on the scent of death housed in his throat like a cumshot that didn’t get entirely swallowed and was left to fester for a bit. And yes...that familiarity is personal experience…but I did manage to beat it within a few days thanks to mom’s help and a lot of mouthwash.

After mom felt I looked presentable enough to be out in public (which included a modest amount of eyeliner, mascara and a dash of perfume), we gathered up her purse and a backup purse for myself so I could carry my Sequoia and took off. Since we had thirteen floors to the lobby, I took that time to try and get used to the feeling of having a purse, even if it was only a very gaudy gun bag. I tried letting it dangle off my shoulder like mom was doing but it only slipped off the edge of my shoulder and onto the floor. I tried across the back like I would sling my AMR but then I couldn’t reach it easily and it was also really difficult to use telekinesis on something you can’t directly see. If I tried grabbing my weapon from my back with magic, I could very well end up just groping my own ass instead. In the end, I put the strap over my head and let the bag dangle by my left side while I got used to having to undo the flap covering the opening in the event I had to quickly draw out my weapon. In reality it was more of a glorified satchel than anything.

“You fussed around enough yet? You’ve got more wiggles now than when you were in kindergarten!” She giggled as the elevator doors opened on the lobby with its tightly uniformed team of female employees who all acknowledged us with no little amount of excitement as we passed.

“Shut it.” I sighed breathing in the cool, salty air of the outdoors and feeling refreshed. “Sweet sister Celestia sing me a sweet song of motherfucking joy does it feel good to be a boring person again for a little bit. That and getting out of the fucking desert heat is just...mmmff...”

“I bet!” She laughed as she waved a hoof by the edge of the street and hailed an empty taxi from the unending hustle and bustle of Manehattan traffic. “Gold Storm’s at school today so we’ll have to take the ground route. Unless you want me to pay extra for a Sky Chariot which I am totally fine with doing. You seemed to really enjoy the flight.”

A taxi cab towed by a thickly built stallion with thick stubble and an even thicker cigar in his mouth pulled up alongside us and regarded us with more than a little approval in his eyes. I always had mixed feelings when people ogled me. A mixture of trepidation for what they might be tempted to do and pride in my beauty for being so eye-catching to begin with.

“Well what do we got here, eh?” He chuckled as he hit a lever attached to the front of the cab with his hindleg, the half door swinging down and becoming a stairway for us to climb up into the taxi. “Step right up ladies! Where ya two fine things be off to this afternoon?”

“The closest gun store actually.” Mom said with a smile as we sat down in the cab and got settled in.

“Eh? Don’ be pullin’ my tail, lady. Where we really goin’?” He laughed, kicking the lever again and closing the door. “Th’ Carousel Boutique ain’t too far away, wanna go there?”

“No, I said the closest gun store, sir.” Mom said with a nervous laugh while I casually flipped back the flap keeping me from my weapon. “And please do get a move on, we have a dinner appointment at 6:30.”

He looked back at us like we were aliens from another world for asking to go to the gun store, something almost everypony did at least a few times in their life because the state of the world necessitated it. Nearly everypony you looked at on the street was packing! Dainty mares with their little pocket and purse pistols from S&W and stallions with their beefier semi-autos from Bunaa and, more recently, Desert Hawk with their collection of big frame pistols. Even our driver was packing a FillyArms 2012 in a leather holster on his leg. Was it really so hard to believe...?

“Yes ma’am. Next stop, Uncle Bubba's!” He said eventually, shrugging his shoulders and pulling us away from the curb and back into the flow of traffic giving the hoof and cussing out anypony who tried to cut him off be they carriage or mechanized personal vehicle.

Our ground level view of Manehattan and its towering glory was far less exhilarating than our ride in the Sky Chariot but no less impressive. Manehattan had somehow grown even bigger since I had last visited. The skyscrapers had grown ever taller towards the clouds while the population almost seemed to have doubled in the two years I had been gone. The streets were packed. Ponies rushing about every which way trying to go about their daily lives without bumping into everyone else trying to do the same around them. Shops packed into every ground level space made available by the endless rows of apartment complexes and on every corner were vending machines that sold both snacks and ammunition for keeping both yourself and your weapon full and loaded. It was a crazy sight but one that had become the norm in every major city around the country and even beyond.

“I miss what Manehattan used to be…” Mom sighed after our taxi got clipped and rattled by another taxi driver going much faster than he needed to. “There’s too many ponies living here now and it’s a damn problem to get anywhere anymore. And don’t even get me started on the gang violence in Ashland…”

“Ashland?” I asked, slipping a hoof into my bag just to touch my gun for comfort as I was beginning to feel overwhelmed by the chaos of civilian life. “Never heard of it.”

“Eh...it’s one of the older suburbs near Fetlock that used to be well known for its quality lumber production way back in the day when Manehattan was founded on brick and wood buildings. My grandmother said the area used to be so full of ash trees that there was a heavy debate that went all the way up to Princess Celestia herself whether the area should be used for the booming lumber business or be cordoned off as a national park. Obviously the lumber companies won out and Ashland is entirely devoid of ash trees. Now...it’s the suburb where Manehattan shoves all its minorities into and leaves them to fend for themselves.”

I was fascinated with the tale she told and was actually keen on learning more. Growing up, these sorts of things either didn’t exist in places like PonyVille or were too far away for younger me to care about, but recent experiences had opened my mind up once more. I had always wondered where Equestria had decided to dump off it’s Zebra minority. Ashland seemed to be one of those places. I didn’t say anything but nodded enthusiastically for her to continue.

“Not much to be said really.” She replied as we rolled to a stop at a corner shop about a mile away from her apartment. “Place is a warzone all the damn time. The Chem trade over there is so thick you could walk up to anypony and ask them for an eight-ball of Berryl and get it the next second on the cheap. Either that or a bullet to the head. Cops are overwhelmed and getting really desperate now from what I’ve been told. Mrs. Crown lives near Ashland and she tells me she has to put blackout blinds over her windows and play her polka music extra loud just to block out the mayhem happening across the river. Thankfully no break-ins but still...I worry for that mare...”

We stepped out of the cab and paid the driver for his services (mom, being the good mare that she is, giving him a tip) before entering the store, a large cowbell rattling obnoxiously as the door nicked it while opening. Before either of us had the time to acknowledge the racks and racks of guns before us, a portly stallion with a large desperado hat and leather vest bounded out of seemingly nowhere and shook both our hooves with all the fury of a used wagon salespony.

“Well howwwwwwwwdy!” He boomed in a Southern accent so thick I could have cut it with a knife. “Welcome tah Uncle Bubba’s Magical Gun Emporium of Everythin’ an’ Anythin’ that goes Boom! Ah’m Lone Star but y’all can call meh Bubba! Now what can Ah get fer ya ladies tahday? Y’all lookin’ tah protect yerselves an’ deal some damage Ah hope?”

“Well hello Bubba!” Mom replied with a wide smile not even batting an eye. “Yes in fact we are here to buy some protection! What do you have available?”

He gestured to entire store with a massive wave of his thick legs and exclaimed, “Everythin’ an’ Anythin’! Who’s first eh? How ‘bout yew little lady?”

He pointed at me and I shook my head laughing nervously.

“Heh, no actually. I’ve got everything I need for right now thanks.” I responded, pushing mom in front of me to emphasize who actually needed a weapon.

“Ah bullshit!” He chuckled, tugging my hoof and pulling me deeper into the store followed by mom who was barely able to keep her laughter in check. “Pretty thang like yew needs tah feel safe ya know? Who knows what kinda gangbanging chickenfucka is gonna set him eyes on ya and think, ‘Well...ain’t that a fine piece o’ ass!’ Y’all ladyfolk need all th’ protection y’all can get if Ah do say so mahself!”

While he did have a very valid point, I had all the weapons I needed. As surprising as it was for me to turn down any offer to buy another gun, I had to hold myself back from purchasing anything. Not only did I not really have anywhere I could keep any I bought (except for maybe with mom or a friend) but I would be obligated to buy a holster for it, spare mags (or speedloaders), possibly other accessories not to mention a padded carrying case to keep them protected… It was a dark path I couldn’t fall victim to. Not again. When he continued to try and convince me of my need of proper protection, I finally pulled my Sequoia out of its suede leather and gold purse and set it onto the display case beside us. The heavy beast clacked loudly as the metal touched on the glass of the case bringing even his exuberance to a standstill as he beheld it with awe and reverence.

“Sweet mother of cherry pickin’ wolves what in th’ hell is this?!” He cried as he shoved his face right up to my weapon and gawked at it.

“Ironshod Armory #000303420.” I answered with a grin of immense pride for my baby. “Top-break action chambered in .45-70 Celestia. Six rounds, eight inch barrel, Red Mahogany grip and a Celestium Steel frame.”

“I ain’t neva seen anythin’ like it…” He murmured in awe, reaching out tentatively to hold it, which I allowed as any gun enthusiast was a friend of mine. Well, as long as they had no thoughts of thievery.

“Nor will you ever again!” I laughed as he turned it over slowly in his hooves, his general demeanor indicating he also had a level of experience in gunsmithing himself. “It took a long time to convince them to even try and a very hefty sum of bits but they somehow pulled it off.”

“This ain’t real. This here can’t be real!” He exclaimed, looking up at me like I were pulling his tail. “Ain’t no way in hell yew can chamber ah top-break in .45-70! Too much pressure on th’ latch!”

“Celestium frame.” I answered simply, tapping the black metal. “And a different latch design then most top-breaks use. If this were .45 Long Colt then yeah, the old S&W .32 design would work fine but this needed something a lot stronger. Plus, this design makes it way easier for an Earth pony to load it without magic. All you gotta do is press down on this lever here and gravity takes care of the rest! No more chipped hooves or pinched tongues trying to lift up that damn latch like you have to do with the .32.”

I demonstrated this for him by pushing down on one of the two small levers attached to the recoil shield on either side of the weapon and slowly dropping the cylinder so the auto-ejector didn’t fling all my good rounds everywhere as it was designed to do. His brown eyes only got wider the more I talked and I was eating up the attention more than I thought I would. We went on for so long that mom had to poke her head out from around my shoulder to remind us she still existed.

“Sorry to be a bother darlings!” She apologized as we turned back to her and the entire reason we had come to Uncle Bubba in the first place. “Once I get what I need, you two can chat for as long as you like! Well, until 5:30 or so since I’d like time to go back home and get dressed up for dinner tonight.”

Bubba and I both quickly apologized and turned our attention back on her, my gun returning back to my purse just in case he decided to snag a one-of-a-kind revolver for his collection. Then began the process of trying to find something for mom to use that was both classy (befitting of a mare of her caliber) as well as highly effective at killing somepony very quickly if the need arose. Though mom’s gun knowledge was not nearly as polished as his or mine, she could hold her own and that ended up becoming a problem when it came to choosing between getting a revolver like myself or a semi-auto like most other ponies preferred. There were certainly pros and significant cons to either action type and she knew almost all of them off the top of her head meaning we went back and forth for a solid twenty minutes as she tried to decide what in particular she wanted. I truly felt for her in those moments as a very similar conundrum had been presented to me as well when I was looking for a tail-gun. In the end I went with the revolver as there was a certain magic about them that I could never get over, regardless of the limited capacity and more frequent need to reload.

“I’d like to have a lot of bullets available to me since I don’t think I’d be a very good shot in a stressful situation. Then again...I also really love the look and feel of a revolver…” She muttered to herself as she looked over the collection of nearly ten pistols set on the counter before her she had picked out of Bubba's inventory with our combined help.

“I gotta say, yew is th’ most indecisive mare Ah’ve eva met!” Bubba chuckled as he went through the different options for the eighth time in less than ten minutes. “At some point y’all gonna have tah choose.”

After a brief pause mom finally looked up from the two guns in her hooves (a revolver and a semi) and declared, “Fuck it! I’ll just buy both of these then! Best of both worlds right? One for the purse and one for the tail.”

I was relieved she had finally come to a decision but also taken aback at her use of the f-word in public, something I had never once seen or heard happen in my life. Occasionally she would use some minor vulgarity in her sentences to act as ‘sentence enhancers’ as she called them but she never strayed far from the words ‘damn’, ‘hell’ and occasionally ‘bitch’. The bigger, more crass adult words (like those found everywhere in my vocab bag) she rarely if ever touched. Up until now though I guess. She was more full of life than I had seen in a long time...I couldn't blame her for chasing the high of having her daughter around after two years away.

“Th' FillyArms 2012 Defender 'n th’ Swift&Western .38? Ahlright! Let’s get ya ringed up!” Bubba declared with a wide grin as he put away the other eight guns and directed us towards the cash register over on the other side of the shop.

The register itself lay beneath a massive sign on the wall that read, ‘Better guns, better prices: Bubba’s Guns!’ which I kind of wished I could steal as a sort of fun novelty item to hang on the wall. Bubba himself seemed to be doing incredibly well for himself as now that we were finally away from the pistols, I could see they also had many rifles, shotguns and even some heavier ordinance for sale as well. Ironshod, Desert Hawk, Bunaa, FillyArms, Kaiser-Stahl and even a few rare energy weapons from Ministry Arms were all on display; the latter having a sign barring anyone but government employees and military lackeys from purchasing them. Even though I qualified, I wasn’t gonna waste my hard-earned army money on one of those. Energy weapons offered no challenge because they all essentially acted like a shotgun blast at point-blank range. If their armor can’t refract and absorb enough energy, the whole fucking pony just disintegrates into a pile of pink ash. An unloottable and thus unconfirmable kill for the Headhunt since you needed epaulettes in order to qualify and those things tended to turn to ash like everything else. Not only that but they had no recoil and gave me no kill satisfaction whatsoever. If I was going to kill somepony, I wanted to tear them apart and make sure it left a mess as a message to anyone else. Pink ash wasn’t nearly as effective a message as a mangled pile of torn intestines flopping out of a gaping wound in the gut and it never would be. As long as there was something that spat hot lead and tore ass, I was going to use it and enjoy the hell out of it.

“Aight, so th’ .32 is twelve-hundred bits an’ th’ Defender comes tah thirty-six hundred fer ah total of forty-eight bigguns. Now, can Ah interet y’all in some accessories?” Bubba chuckled as he pressed some buttons on his register making it go ding in a very pleasing way. “Every five bits ya spend here, one bit is donated tah th’ Wings fer Angels charity! Can’t say no tah that now can yew?”

“Wings for Angels? Can’t say I’ve heard of this charity before.” Mom commented as she was led from the register towards the shelves where all the ‘accessories’ were stored.

“It’s like the Wounded Warrior program but specifically for Pegusi veterans." I explained while watching her try on several different holster styles as well as browse through Bubba’s collection of mag and speedloader pouches. "Darkblaze is actually one of the founding members and they get partial funding from the Ministry of Wartime Technology since Blaze’s dad still works for them and convinced them of the major benefits of sponsoring, even partially, a veteran-focused charity organization. Veteran money is a gold mine that every corporation is trying to get a piece of since it makes them look better on the marketing campaign. A bit underhoofed but...it's better than nothing.”

“Oh really? Well isn’t that wonderful!” She commented with a pleasant smile, seemingly having decided what accessories she wanted much faster than choosing out the weapons themselves. “I think I will take two of these and two of these please.”

She picked out two simplistic mag pouches that could fit two of the smaller Colt Defender magazines as well as a few of speedloader pouches for the .32. When I asked her where on earth she planned on putting them seeing as she rarely put on clothes, she replied that she intended to sew them into the inside of her purse herself as soon as we got home and had the time. I will admit I was a little ashamed I hadn’t thought of that but I took consolidation points in the fact that in all likelihood, I was the one who had taught her to think tactically in this way. Well, either myself or Huckleberry; one of the two. The sale of the weapons themselves was almost insultingly easy. No I.D was checked, no forms were signed granting permission to perform a background check with the Royal Accountability Agency...hell not even mom’s name was written down as part of Bubba’s ledger when it was all finalized. In two minutes mom had purchased two easily concealable weapons, pouches to hold four reloads per weapon and one hundred rounds for each weapon all with the same level of security in play as purchasing cigarettes from the convenience store. Even alcohol was more federally regulated it seemed...

After we had thanked him for his time and loaded mom’s weapons up with ammunition, we set back out onto the street feeling empowered and confident. Mom’s demeanor perked up significantly the moment those two guns entered her purse and you could just feel the sense of security and confidence they inspired in her. That was the mark of a true gun lover in my eyes, especially with mares. A gun could buy you a lot of things depending on how you used it. Money, drugs, sex, fancy housing, illegal imports...a gun was basically a glorified ATM card, only it was a little heavier and could launch chunks of copper coated lead at speeds approaching and surpassing the speed of sound. Give a timid girl a gun and tell her how to use it properly and she will more than likely feel a bit more courageous in her everyday life. She never even has to fire a single shot at another pony in a life-and-death situation to get those benefits, though admittedly said situation could end up ruining guns forever for the poor girl. For those who ended up like myself...life-and-death situations wherein I had to kill someone became almost an addiction. The only fights that gave you more of an adrenaline rush than a gunfight were knife fights and in those situations, I tended to be even better with a knife than I was with a gun. Nopony expects my agility.

“Where to my ladies?” The male cabbie called out as he pulled up alongside us at the curb looking quite dapper in his traditional Trottingham flat cap.

Mom checked her pocket watch and turned to me asking, “Well, it’s 4:40. Anything you’d like to do on our way back to the apartment?”

“Meh.” I shrugged as I got into the cab with her. “I don’t really know what there is to do in Manehattan since I usually just go with you wherever you go. Let’s just head on back and get ready for dinner.”

“You got it! Driver? Take us to 5883 Liberty Way please!” She commanded, our cabbie giving us a proud salute before charging forward out into the main thoroughfare.

While we rode towards home, mom slipped her FillyArms Defender out of her purse and caressed it in her hooves, dropping the magazine and staring at the seven copper jacketed .45 Automag rounds housed therein with a look of awe as well as smug victory. Not wishing to disturb her private time with her new friend, I contented myself with enjoying the view as it went by. I stared absentmindedly for perhaps a few minutes before I realized that everywhere I looked, there were nothing but ponies in sight. Earth ponies, Unicorns and a few Pegusi meandered about here and there on the street but no other species could be seen anywhere. While the bulk of the Equestrian Armed Forces were indeed ponies, there were still tens of thousands of soldiers from species other than Equine present in our ranks and that was something I had grown quite accustomed to. Manehattan was devoid of Buffalo, Dragons, Wolves, Lynx, Elk...not even a fucking Griffin could be seen hawking Griffinstone antiques on the street corner. Needless to say the lack of diversity around me was unsettling for some reason.

When I couldn’t handle taking in that information anymore I turned to mom and asked, “Where is everyone?”

“Hm?” She asked, glancing up and away from her new toy just long enough to make eye contact.

“I mean, where is everyone?” I asked again, gesturing to the city around us and the single species seemingly the sole occupant of it. “All I see are ponies. No predators, no other herbivores...nothing but ponies. Why is that?”

She stared at me as if trying to gauge if I were being humorous or not before responding, “They have their own towns, cities and countries, love. They tend to live there where others of their species are well established and the environment and politics of the area are best adapted to suit their specific needs. Why do you ask? You grew up with this being the norm, what changed?”

“The Army…” I admitted, looking back at the populous that, while being very diverse in terms of coat and mane colors, was lacking any semblance of real diversity. “I’m always working with members of other races down South and...I guess I got used to that. I wake up every morning and see over ten different species all working and fighting together as a single entity. Well...except for the Connemara Brigade of course.”

“Connemara? Wait, you have actual Connemara ponies fighting with you guys?!” Mom gasped, her gun and magazine dropping from her hooves in her surprise.

“Yeah! I swore I’ve told you about them already.” I replied, scooping up her belongings with a smile.

“No! I would have remembered that for sure!” She exclaimed loudly enough for our driver to glance over his shoulder towards us as he galloped down the street. “I didn’t even know they had agreed to join the War...what are they like?! Tell me everything!”

“Heh...well...what’s there to say…?” I asked, rubbing the back of my head sheepishly as I, like many others, knew next to nothing about those thick accented, hard-assed bastards. “There’s only a little over three-thousand of them total in the Army as far as I know and they’re organized into a Division with some guy named Colonel Bushmill in command. They have very thick, melodic accents, fight like fucking berserkers and wear a traditional battle garb that includes an actual armored combat skirt...thing.”

“Fascinating!” She exclaimed, gobbling up the information greedily. “I’ve always found them to be such a deeply intriguing race...is it true they don’t have any Unicorns or Pegusi where they come from like Zebras?”

“As far as I’ve been able to see, yeah. Unless nothing but Earth ponies decided to enlist or something in which case...I don’t have a clue. But yeah, I didn’t see any horns or wings poking out from under their tweed hats or their rather peculiar armor.”

“You calling any armor peculiar is peculiar in and of itself. What’s so peculiar about it?”

“Well, they all wear very colorful...robe things.” I explained, trying to find the right words to describe their battle dress that was both a mixture of our semi-medieval past and our heavily modernized combat garb. “They’re all plaid in design and they wear them under their standard issue combat armor. Far as I can see the different colors they come in represent what family line you’re from or something. The armored skirts they all wear I’m gonna guess is made of really thick short-fiber Kevyarn and I’ve noticed some have added on some external faulds though more in the traditional style with multiple lames rather than the single piece that combat armor comes in.”

“Whoa there, a bit too much info darling.” She chided gently as the taxi lurched to a stop outside her apartment building. “Remember: not everyone is as nerdy as you when it comes to armor alright?”

“Sorry mom…” I apologized sheepishly, thinking back on all the times I had been chided before for the same reason even if the info I was babbling on about was different each time. “Long story short...they’re a weird bunch but they make delicious food, sing amazingly and are damn terrifying when they do a bayonet charge over the trench wall. I've even seen like half of them carrying fucking Claymores on their backs! I'd ask to learn how to use one myself but eh...they're a scary bunch of guys, even for me.”

“Hm.” She hummed in thought as she paid the cabbie and followed me indoors. “I would love to visit Éire someday...the pictures I’ve seen make it look so magical and peaceful…”

“Not to mention the mares from there, at least the two that I’ve seen, are drop-dead gorgeous. Pale coats, blue or green eyes, blonde, red or golden colored hair...make a girl wanna squirm.” I whispered in her ear to keep anypony else from overhearing us as we waited for the elevator to descend to our level. “Let me tell ya...all they had to do was say hello and instantly my thighs are soaked.”

“I bet!” She giggled, pressing the button for the thirteenth floor and standing beside me as the doors closed. “How much would I have to do to achieve the same effect?”

I blushed at her sudden sensual change and almost immediately began to feel the familiar tingles and wetness of my own arousal under my tail. A few seconds later faint whiffs of my peachy musk hung in the close confines of the elevator and I caught her sniffing the air curiously then smirking as she immediately recognized it.

“Well that was easy!” She laughed, pulling me by the hoof out of the elevator and into her room before anypony had the chance to see the warm juices trickling down my thighs and towards my hooves leaving dark glistening tracks down my fur that stood out against my silvery grey coat.

“Well know that I know you’re turned on by me, my pussy’s reaction time to your teasing is significantly reduced and there’s not much I can do about that…” I grumbled while she locked the door behind us and set her purse on the counter.

“Oh really?” She teased, pawing at my chest with her hoof and biting her lip a little. “Well...I suppose we have time for a quickie.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall (a wine barrel shaped one with wine bottles for hands) and saw it was already five-thirty meaning either we had less than five minutes to get each other off (hardly a challenge) or she was content with being late to our reservation.

“You know we’ve only got like five minutes until we’ve gotta leave right…?” I advised, pointing towards the clock for extra emphasis. “Plus we’ve gotta get dressed up and all that…”

“I’m shocked, Athena.” She said with mock surprise, pawing at my chest more sensually then before. “You of all ponies passing up sex for dinner at a fancy restaurant?”

The heat in my groin was getting hotter by the second and the trickle of juices coming from my snatch was approaching waterfall levels of flow making my resistance less and less effective at holding me back from pouncing on her and grinding her into next Thursday. I had awoken something in mom and whatever it was, was hungry, feisty and kinky as fuck. She wasn’t a MILF...no, I had awoken a Cougar inside her and not just because she was in the right age group. She was almost worse than I was and I found myself for once feeling submissive rather than dominant like I always was with other mares, barring Huckleberry as we switched off depending on our respective moods.

“But…” I tried, giving what little resolve I had left into my attempt to dissuade her even though I really couldn’t think of any reason to deny her what she wanted other than the fact the reservation had been planned a year in advance just for me.

“Athena Minuette Crete.” She said in a commanding tone with a soft, playful growl to her voice. “The only butt I wanna hear is the sound of my hoof spanking yours. Understand?”

A smoldering lust glowed from within her royal blue eyes as she puffed her chest out a bit and stood tall and even though she was a few inches shorter than me (the tip of her muzzle reached just below my lips), she seemed to loom over me. Like a Cougar with her prey…

“Y-yes.” I squeaked shyly, looking ‘up’ at her timidly but feeling giddy and very filly-like at being under the command of somepony so beautiful as her.

“Yes...what? I can’t hear you darling.” She chided, walking past me towards the bedroom and flicking her tail against my cheek giving me a peek at the beautifully tight slit underneath.

“Y-yes mom?” I tried again, eagerly following behind her like an obedient little puppy.

She stopped at the doorway to the room and looked at me with a small smirk of pride.

“Better...but you’re still my little girl. Act the part for mommy like a good little filly and she may just reward you for good behavior.” She cooed, entering the bedroom and pushing me onto the bed while she bit her lip and stood in front of me as if deciding what she wanted to do first.

“Y-yes mummy.” I squeaked shyly, glancing up from looking at my hooves in time to see her shiver at the cutesy title.

“Mmmm…now that’s more like it.” She sighed happily. “Yes...you’re my little filly. Always and forever.”

I beamed in pride at her affectionate remarks feeling like I were six years old again but this time things between us were different. The love was deeper and the passion was much, much stronger than it had been back in the day. My body trembled with anticipation and my mind reverted to a childish state that was more than willing and eager to please her in any way I could. So this is what age-play really felt like… I officially had a new fetish I wanted to try the moment I got a chance alone with Huckleberry.

She disappeared into her closet for a moment only to reappear wearing one of her pearl necklaces and carrying a bundle of clothes in her magic which she then tossed towards me.

“Put that on darling.” She said kindly though with a commanding tone. “If we’re gonna do this kind of roleplay, you should look the part.”

I slowly pulled the different articles from the pile and found the school uniform I had been forced to wear during my Senior year at high school that came complete with a tight blouse and a plaid skirt that seemed to have gotten even shorter in the years since my graduation. In addition were plain white thigh-high socks, a pair of fake glasses I had worn for Nightmare Night when I had gone as a hipster mare from Trottingham and two hair ties. It took me a moment before I realized they were meant to give me pigtails, something I hadn’t done to my hair since I was literally six years old. She was going all out on this and I had to wonder if and for how long she had been planning on this situation happening. There were just too many components for it to be random.

“I...didn’t know you kept all this.” I commented as she watched me struggle to fit my larger frame into clothes from my younger years when I wasn’t so fit. Not to mention tall. "Soon as I graduated I dumped this damn thing in the trash. I hated having to wear a damn uniform just to get told shit in a classroom that I already knew."

“Well...what can I say?” She replied, dropping her Cougar mode for a moment to answer me. “I miss having you around and...I tended to keep some of your old things after you moved out so I could have something of yours to hold onto when I felt like crying because I feel so alone here in Manehattan without you.”

I had never considered just how lonely she could be living alone in Manehattan away from her friends from PonyVille while I gallivanted about the south in constant mortal peril. I was a fully grown adult. I moved out because it was time for me to grow up and find my place in the world but now that I was on my way into my thirties and had found my calling in life, I found myself missing home more than I ever had before. For the briefest of seconds I even entertained the thought of resigning my commission and retiring from the Army just so I could come home and live with her again if not to calm her worried mind and give her the companionship she so desperately needed. The thought, though as pleasant and appealing as it was, was just not feasible. Prior to Zecuro’s miraculous reappearance from the dead, this decision would have been much easier to follow through with as back then, not even a month ago, the only thing worrying me was losing the War and losing Huckleberry. Now that I was entangled in the clusterfuck of a web spun by the General and Zecuro and Onyx and myself...there was no way I could resign. Zecuro needed me. The fate of unknown numbers of ponies and Zebras and everyone else were heavily in play on the chessboard in front of me and as my high school chess teacher could tell you, I sucked ass at chess. (I play a mean game of checkers or cards though.)

The blouse could only be partially buttoned down my stomach and the skirt did little to hide my ass but the socks fit well enough and the glasses still surprisingly fit on my muzzle even after twelve years. When I tried and failed multiple times to put my mane up in pigtails, she graciously came to my assistance having me sit in front of her while she literally worked her magic on getting my hair all done up and ready to go. We each sat in silence as she worked, the mood soft and slightly melancholy but not altogether depressing. We had grown a little distant the longer I was away from home and the farther South I was sent but this was a critical moment for us. As unorthodox as it was, we were bonding again and that was more important to me than just about anything else that was going on.

“Mummy…?” I asked after she had finished and started hugging me against her chest.

Her lips nibbled on the tip of my right ear from behind as she cooed, “Yes my darling?”

“I love you. More than anything else in the world.”

“I love you too Athena.” She whispered into my ear as her hooves slithered down my belly towards my aching nethers and the enormous wet spot I was sitting in. “Always and forever.”

Huckleberry was going to be pissed when I told her what mom and I had ended up doing together during my time off, but that was a problem for Future Athena. Present Athena had her mummy to please and the rest of the night to do it as well as the next morning. I wasn’t one for using the word ‘perfect’ in a world where everything had devolved into a shitshow...but this was as close to a perfect moment in my life as I was willing to admit barring my first night with Huckleberry. Even then though...the only way to improve the evening in my eyes (and I’m sure mummy would agree) was if Hucks was here to share it with us. A threesome with the two mares I loved most in the world? You could put a bullet in my head right after that and I would feel I had lived a very full and fulfilling life with few regrets to speak about. I could see the look on Huck’s face the moment I dropped this little gem of intimate knowledge on her poor little head…

Next Chapter: Chapter Thirty-Three: Post-Apocalyptic Real-Estate Estimated time remaining: 12 Hours, 52 Minutes