“Well...I think we’ve found everything we can get here.” I stated finally after we spent another half hour or so scouring the ruins for the weapon he had originally lost but coming up with nothing. "I mean, I'm sure there's plenty else to find if we looked hard enough but I'm kind of on a timetable for a job I was hired to complete."

He looked up at me with his big golden eyes and whimpered, “Y-you’re leaving…? B-but why…? Y-you’re my only f-friend...”

I couldn't hold back a chuckle as I replied, " Friend eh? You haven't even known me a day kid, I'm not exactly the best person to have as a 'friend'."

"B-bullshit!" He squeaked in response showing a bit more grit than I had expected. "Y-you had the chance to s-shoot me on sight l-like so many p-people do to Ghouls...you didn't. T-that's a rare o-ocurrance to me..."

"Well...true heh. Then again I don't come across a ton of friendly Ghouls myself but I don't blame any of you for what happened to your bodies. You're all victims of Taint and radiation in one way or another...something we have in common."

He looked at me critically before seemingly realizing that I was, for all sakes and appearances, a smoothfur pony wandering around a RadZone with impunity without even a need for a helmet.

"H-how...wait..." He mumbled as his eyes screwed in confused thought before turning to my armor.

"It ain't the armor kid, believe me." I sighed, taking my helmet off once more to look him in the eye properly. "It's lead lined I'll grant you that but its not rated for direct impact blast zones like this crater. Hell I doubt even the T-51s could handle the background rads of this zone for all that long judging by the Geiger counter reading."

"So...w-what is it then...? You're not a G-Ghoul so are y-you some sort of m-mutant...?"

"It's...more complicated than that." I replied cautiously as he was unknowingly treading upon very sensitive ground. "But...yes. To keep things simple...I'm a mutant. That's all I'm gonna say on the matter."

He seemed to catch onto my reservation on the topic and simply nodded before changing gears to the previous topic.

"D-do you have to go s-so soon...?" He asked softly, glancing at the gear he had obtained by my help.

I nodded with a twang of sadness before patting him on the head and saying, “I was hired to do a job and I gotta do it. Sorry kid...I had fun though. More fun than I’ve had in a long time. Kinda forgot what it felt like.”

He nodded slowly and whimpered, “M-me t-t-too…”

I felt bad for leaving him but I was wasting time as it was. Even though I didn’t get paid by the hour, it was customary in the business to get paid a nice little bonus for doing it quickly. Twenty-five hundred caps was chump change but with prices at my merchants being as low as they were with my ‘frequent customer discount’, it would tide me over for enough jars of powder, and enough boxes of primers and casings for the whole month. It wasn’t like I necessarily needed the money, I had over five-hundred thousand caps stowed away in a safe buried deep under my house, but I had grown up counting every bit that I spent to make it through the economic inflation of the War. Besides...I liked keeping busy and killing assholes for money was almost a joy for me. Equestria had paid a small fortune training and equipping
me to become a killing machine for the government. Now that I had outlasted said government, I had naught to work for but myself and my own interests; hardly the life I would have imagined for myself all those years ago but a welcome change of pace from the Meat Grinder. Besides...having no attachment to the Post-War apocalyptic world made killing easier than ever as nopony had any value to me and friends were a commodity I could be incredibly picky about.

“B-but...w-what about your o-offer…?” He whispered, floating up the old Desert Ranger helmet from where it lay attached to his homemade saddle bags. “Y-you said you w-were going t-to help f-f-fix this for m-my size.”

Damnit! I had almost completely forgotten about my offer to help him in the rush of emotions from the Colonel’s dossier files. Where I was going was no place for a colt to go, especially with their insane demand for child slaves regardless of 'quality'. If I could convince him to stay put for a day or two until I had finished my job and turned in the money, then I could take him back to Little Hoof with an open schedule. At that point, I’d have all the time in the world to get his armor resized and get the new coat sewn up. Money wasn’t going to be a problem and hopefully I made enough on the side from looting Appleloosa of everything it owned to cover my expenses and a bit more. It was a Slaver Paradise but it would still have a decent amount of shit worth snagging for the market and with the Queen of the Buck present...well, who knew just how many caps there were just begging to be taken? Goddamnit, this was exactly the reason a hitmare makes few friends...

“Right...sorry. Look kid, I’ll make good on that offer I swear it. I’m just kinda caught up in something I really need to get done. I was hired to do a job and I have to see it through. If not for the money’s sake then my own reputation’s sake.”

“O-oh…?” He mumbled softly, looking back up at me with curiosity. “W-what kind of j-job?”

I rolled my shoulders to bring attention to the rifle on my back and replied, “The kind that needs big ass guns and leaves behind a lot of dead bodies. Not a place for a colt I’m afraid. Why don’t you stay here for a few days, three at most, and let me do my job. I’ll come back right after I promise and we can go and get your stuff fixed up for you. After that...well, we can part ways on good terms and you can go back to doing whatever it was you were up to before ya met me. I'm sure it'll be much safer than my line of work.”

He glanced around the gloomy rubble filled corridors with apprehension and said, “B-but I-I’m not a c-colt! I’m j-just stuck in t-this body! I c-can take care o-of myself damn it!”

That was true. I was treating him like a child because he looked, acted and sounded like one but his true age had yet to be determined. I mean he had come here before and found a Sequoia, escaped a Hellhound that had stalked him, went out and bought (or scavenged) a StealthBuck and had come back here again to look for his gun. He certainly was brave, I had to give him that. His armor, while piecemeal and lacking professional assembly, was still fairly competent in design and construction and a quick glance was enough to show a fair collection of dings, dents and other legitimate battle scars. The kid was no virgin to combat at least.

“T-take me w-with you!” He begged, his eyes drifting towards my legs as if he wanted to cling to them to keep me from going anywhere. “I-I’m really s-stealthy! A-and now I have t-this gun! I’m a good shot t-too! I can h-help you!”

Again, another fair point. His small size made him a much slimmer target and his homemade armor seemed to be well suited for squeezing into tight places. I mean, in the end the kid’s life was in his own hooves so if he died following me then I wouldn’t feel too bad about it. Yes...the little fucker was growing on me but he was not a necessary life to save in my book, at best he was to be a nice experience to jot down in the journal. Besides...he had some nice shit that I could pilfer through in case he bit it. The Mrk. I, despite its outdated as hell design, would make for a nice display piece in my apartment if I could find room enough for it.

“Fuck it...alright.” I said after yet another moment of thought. “But we’re going to Old Appleloosa and we only go at one pace. Mine. If ya can't keep up you get left behind and I'll come back to get you after I'm done with the place.”

He cocked his head as he let his magic die out letting the helmet drop back down against his side.

“A-Appleloosa…?” He asked hesitantly. “W-what the f-fuck are we going t-there for…?”

He used the term, ‘we’ which was enough to make me start walking again, his shorter legs having to scamper a little to catch up to me in the dingy concrete corridor leading back out to the surface.

“Got a drug lord to kill. Client of mine put me up for this job and I agreed to a price before I knew who the target was. Rookie mistake on my part...”

“O-oh? Why?” He asked, my obvious hints at my line of work either going unnoticed or ignored.

“Because a hit like this on a mare with as big a reputation as she does is worth more than a shiny new cap kid. I’d charge at least four times as much if I knew who I was going for beforehoof. Here’s a tip kid, don’t ever agree to a price for anything before you know what you’re bargaining for. It'll save you time, blood, sweat, money and ammo...”

Our hooves echoed down the corridor as we followed the bullet holes I had left in the walls earlier to guide us back to the collapsed entrance leading into the crater. I was feeling...all sorts of weird around this kid. On the one hoof he was a complete stranger I hardly knew and had no prior connection to warranting no form of attachment. On the other...I just couldn't rid myself of the burgeoning feelings of endearment that were forming between myself and him. He was an OG Desert Ranger fanboy, a commodity as rare as legitimate DR gear in the Wastes...and I had a habit of collecting things.

"M-mind if I ask...but...are y-you a bounty hunter...?" He asked timidly breaking my from my thoughts.

"Heh...not quite. For a time I was until I...'graduated' I suppose is the right term to use here."

"I...d-don't think I understand..."

How to explain the subtle but important differences between a Hitmare and a bounty hunter to the uninitiated...?

"Lemme put it like this kid. What separates a bounty hunter from a mercenary? A merc works for a group and can do anything from running protection for caravans to waging war on another company and everything in between long as the pay is right. Bounties work alone or in small groups independent of each other with the goal of killing or capturing specific ponies with morality and codes of conduct varying from Hunter to Hunter. Make enough of a name for yourself on the West Coast being a Hunter and you might be approached by a Hitmare to join the upper echelons of the murder-for-hire world. Hitmares...hmmm...Hitmares are best described as the upper class of the killer elite. You will almost never be asked to bring in anypony alive and your clients have more caps than they know what to do with leaving them plenty of time to gain rivals, enemies and simply poor fucks lookin' to get a piece of their cash reserves."

I could tell I was still being a bit too vague for him to puzzle out the differences so I continued. At the very least the conversation was a good distraction from the monotonous hallway path.

"To put it as simply as I fucking can...Hitmares are Bounty Hunters but for elite clientele. You work alone, you have a name, personality and M.O. that set you apart from each other and you all follow a rough set of guidelines that everypony more or less agrees to adhere to in order to keep their status in this killing club. Funny as it might sound, this shit is serious business in New Pegasus and there are several bars and inns around the area that have formed around our profession. They keep their eyes and ears open as far and wide as they can for anyone needing a job done and put em on massive lists on display so any of us can pick up a job if we stop by for a drink or whatever. Long story short...if you want job security and are good with fucking people up with weapons, becoming a Hitmare is the best way to earn a lotta caps hella fast."

"Sweet C-Celestia..." He breathed as comprehension flooded his gaze followed up quickly by even more curiosity. "S-so how long h-have you been a H-Hitmare...?"

"Eh...to be honest kid, I don't even know myself..." I admitted. "Been killing people almost all my life and the whole Hitmare thing just kinda took shape around me as I went along...you don't really notice things change around you when you don't pay attention to much more than who's in your crosshairs. If I were to have to put a number to it...fuck...I don't know, probably fifty plus years? I was never approached by another Hitmare and asked to join. I just kinda...found myself among their ranks one day and never questioned how I had gotten there since the pay was too damn good to give the hoof to."

"Huh...s-so...how m-much is this current j-job gonna pay...?" He asked after navigating our way through the rubble of the opening and made our way up the crater wall back towards E-15.

“A measly twenty-five hundred caps for the head of the Queen of Buck…” I sighed, continually hating myself for pulling an amateur's mistake during negotiations. "Its what I get for trusting a greedy fuck like Green to pay me fair wages for my time and talents."

“W-wait, you’re g-going after J-J-Jingle?!” He cried, stopping in his tracks and forcing me to stop and look over my shoulder at him.

“Mhm. Gonna put a nice pointy tungsten penetrator right through her brain. That is if I can get a good bead on her ass from five-hundred yards but I've got other shit if the fight gets up close and personal. What, she mean something to you or something?” I asked, wondering why he was reacting so strongly to some bitch I had never met before and hopefully would have a bullet through her head by the end of the night.

He said nothing but charged up the hill faster than I thought his stubby little legs could ever accomplish forcing me to gallop uphill (something I hated doing) after him. Whatever about the mare had caused something to spark up in him and I had a hard time guessing what it was as I had only caught a brief glimpse of his face as he galloped past me. The closest word I had to describe it was either fury or rage and I had to wonder if he was trying to get there before me to either warn her of my coming or to kill her himself. Either way, we were running towards the shithole she called home.

What he made up for in vigor, he sorely lacked in stamina. By the time we came to the crest of the crater he had to stop and flop to his back panting for breath on the hot asphalt of E-15 while I stood beside him only slightly winded from our run. Had been quite some time since I had last seen what a difference Splendid Valley had done to improve my physical body.

“Yo, you alright kid?” I asked as I peered down at him, slipping the worn and dented military issued canteen from the back of my belt and floating it near his mouth just in case.

“Y-yeah…” He wheezed, his eyes fluttering as his small frame heaved with his panting. “F-forgot I c-can’t run very w-well…”

He accepted the canteen graciously and came away from his sip with wide eyes.

“H-how is it so cold w-when it's so w-warm outside?” He asked in amazement, looking the matte black bottle over suspiciously.

“Old spell the military put on these things. If it's hot out, it chills the liquid inside and if it's cold out then it’ll warm it up a bit however you’d like. It’s all designed to keep the soldier hydrated and properly accommodated wherever they may be. Back in the trenches we used to stick all kinds of shit in there to see if it would still work. Let me tell you, there is nothing more refreshing after a sweltering day in the mud than a nice swig of ice cold super tart lemonade right at your beck and call.”

“L-lemonade?” He asked softly, taking another swig from my canteen. “W-what’s that…? I get t-the lemon p-part but w-what is it?”

I stared at him incredulously for a solid minute before I came to terms that he was actually serious about this. I came across thousands of lemonade powder packets anywhere I wandered and had a habit of collecting as much as I could into the small bag I had dedicated just for them. I had neglected to fill up my canteen with the stuff before taking off (mostly because I was lazy and just forgot) but now I had more than enough reason to make some up. Without asking I took my bottle back from him, slipped several packets out of their special pouch and began breaking the seals as I explained to him the joys of processed lemon and sugar water.

“Ever tasted a lemon before?” I asked, knowing from experience Mutalemons were to be found everywhere on the east coast (if you can get past the RadWasps that built nests in the wild orchards) even if their flavor was a tad more bitter than the real thing had been.

“N-no…” He admitted shyly as I poured two packets in, saving the other three just in case he didn’t like his drink as brainfuckingly sweet as I did.

“Not even a Mutalemon? Damn...you’re missing out. Thankfully, I have just the thing here.” I said as I shook the canteen and its flavorful contents before passing it back down to him to try.

His eyes flew open wide with revelation and he quickly downed the rest of my canteen (which was the large, two liter size they usually only offered to Griffins and Dragons due to their relative size) and came away with a loud gasp of sheer delight.

After hovering the mouth of the bottle over his tongue (which was a mottled pink/purple color) to catch the last few drops he smacked his lips and said, “H-heh...s-sorry...that w-was so f-fucking amazing!”

I rolled my eyes and smiled to myself while taking the canteen back from him, commenting on how he had drunk all my water and requesting he find a way to refill it for me. He blushed hard, a very weird thing to see a Ghoul do since their ragged, greyish colored cheeks suddenly flush red often letting you see the veins in the muscles beneath, and apologized profusely, offering to empty three of his bottles of Sparkle-Cola into it as payment. I chuckled as I considered his offer (purified water wasn’t as expensive as a bottle of Cola but still) and I wondered if he was merely proposing it as a cheap way of turning his drinks ice cold for later. I finally relented and allowed him to dump his three bottles (I declined to accept their accompanying caps) into my canteen on the promise I got to enjoy most of the drink and he could have the rest. With that in place, we left the empty bottles in an arrow shape just for fun pointing into the crater and continued on our way towards Appleloosa, the irradiated shortcut making the rest of the trip an easy four or five hour trot.

As we made our way steadily southward, Gold continued to ask me question after question concerning the Rangers and what we did during the War as well as the rivalry between us and the Steel Rangers. I had literally forgotten how long it had been since I had traveled with somepony who was so eager to talk (or with anypony for that matter) and I found the chance to explain history to somepony who adored what I had to say was even more refreshing than any amount of lemonade. Whether I liked it or not (and I had to admit I found myself really liking it), I had a travel buddy. If he proved his skills in the field by staying alive, he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted.

“S-so why d-d-do you guys and t-the Steel R-Rangers hate e-each other so m-much?” He asked sweetly. “I t-thought everypony w-was like a b-big family in t-the Army.”

I chuckled and shook my head responding, “Well, within your own Corps maybe but the Tin Heads and us didn’t see eye to eye from the start. See, the Desert Rangers were around even before the War with the Zebras started. Like at least two decades before or something close to that. We were here protecting Equestria, even if it was just a portion of it, way before the Steel Rangers were even formed. Hell, everypony who either enlisted or got conscripted into the regular Army had their sights set on becoming one of us when the War first started. We were the best there was to be found anywhere...and then Apple Jack had the bright idea of inventing Powered Infantry Armor to improve survivability and firepower on the battlefield since neither Rangers nor BattleSaddles seemed to be enough. Now...I am not so biased as to ignore the power, protection and intimidation provided by the T-45s and 51s or even the lighter semi-powered models like the T-35 or the venerable T-37 and 39. That being said well, I can't be blamed for holding some resentment towards their mere existence. The Steel Rangers would make up what was on paper called the Armored Cavalry Corps alongside the 1st General Army Corps, the 1st Airborne Corps and the Desert Ranger Corps. Now, if they had pulled from just the General Army or Airborne Corps like we had done for years, we probably would have a much smaller rivalry between us. But no, they had to go and yank some of our top brass as well as many of our best Veterans to serve in their ranks. And since the Ministry of Wartime Tech had most of the final say in matters relating to the whole Equestrian Army, we were powerless to stop them. Then after that came all that fucking godawful propaganda. Not even five years into the War and hardly anypony in the general public seemed to remember the Desert Rangers anymore except for those with relatives in the Corps. The Tin Heads were the bold new face of Equestria’s might in battle. A walking tank of steel clad freedom galloping its way to victory. Long story short as to why we hate them? They relished leaving us Vets in the dust while they took all the public glory and recruitment drives. Everypony wanted to be a Steel Ranger...even my fucking cousins did.”

“W-wow…” He gasped softly as I finally stopped my rant to try and calm down a little. “W-what assholes…”

“Oh you don’t know the half of it. Just wait until you hear about how they acted on the field…” I muttered, thinking back to all the times missions, kills and rescues were snatched from me and my Squad to get credited to those knights in shining armor.

“S-so...I g-guess I should ask...w-what are we d-doing?”

The sun had dragged itself below the shroud of clouds blocking out the heavens and disappeared just as quickly behind the horizon basking the open desert in a mottled pink and brown light that grew darker with every passing minute. Fortune was in our favor. Gold's slower pace on the trail had scrambled my plans for a daytime frontal assault but a nighttime raid could prove to be even more beneficial. Reduced numbers on active patrol and lookout and a slightly greater allowable margin for error.

“Yeah, probably would be good to get a plan together...” I agreed as I dropped to my stomach and crawled through the coarse tan grass poking through the sand, my duster fading in perfectly with the color scheme of the desert. “To put it simply, we’re here to kill this Jingle bitch, collect a shit ton of caps and Dash that she took from my client, and leave her operation in ruins. More or less heh...wasn't all that specific on potential side-objectives and I wasn't in the mood to ask at the time.”

“W-who are you w-working for?” He asked as he crawled right beside me, his coat blending in even better than my duster in the late dusk sunlight.

I sighed and admitted I was contracted by a rival drug dealer to which he simply stared at me before nodding and mumbling, “Well...a-as long as I g-get my a-armor fixed…”

He gratefully accepted the spotter's-grade binoculars I offered him as I plopped the AMR’s bipod into the sand before me and took a peek down the scope at the ramshackle town of rusted out train cars, lopsided shacks and some of the most degenerate ponies to ever walk the earth. The scene before me was all too familiar a sight in the Wastes and Appleloosa’s slave business was positively booming as many of the outdoor cages were presently filled with the huddled forms of ragged, beaten and collared ponies of all ages and genders. To be completely frank, detached from my outward indifference towards the matter, I was highly averse to the concept of slavery. While not all slaves were treated harshly by their 'owners', if you were a mare and happened to find yourself with an explosive collar around your neck...you're getting raped at some point. Even stallions were on the receiving end of this utterly humiliating treatment if to a lesser degree due to Slaver preference for pussy. Irrespective of who the hell was getting forced into it, to repeatedly rape anyone into submission to the point their holes look like they had just given birth to a boulder was a sin far beyond redemption in my book. Sex was...something to be held to a higher level of respect. But... this was hardly the time to think about such things. To work against slavers and the drug trade would lose me all the reputation I had, and would stick a bounty on my head meaning I couldn’t ever settle down comfortably. With my moral compass fucked up as it was...it had been easier to turn a blind eye to where my caps were coming from and just do the job I was told to do. I was always at home behind a scope and surrounded by death.

Looking at Gold though, his eyes brimming with tears of rage and anguish as he glared through the binoculars...I was being forced to look directly at the monstrosity of a system I had rather willingly aided and abetted however so indirectly. In the end, I had fallen in line with everything because it paid well, staved off boredom and fed the angry attention whore inside myself. I had enough money to get by and more than enough materials, weapons and ammunition to keep myself living well for another few decades at least. In the end...I was really only a Hitmare because it kept me busy. Busy enough to push the trauma and nightmares into the back of my mind while I exerted my deep-seated fury at the past in every casing that flew from the ejection port of my weapon. I...I was going to obliterate the entire fucking town with Gold’s help and I would take the money, the loot and the drugs and disappear into the Wasteland. There would always be a need for my talents in the apocalypse...but some ponies simply didn't deserve them anymore. If anything...they deserved to be on the receiving end of it all.

The computerized rangefinder and image enhancement attachment to the scope of my Anti-Machine Rifle synced with my HUD allowing me to see a far wider field of view shared between two eyes rather than one squinting through a narrow metal tube. Appleloosa was an ugly town, there was no two-ways about it. The majority of the preexisting buildings from before the Great War were only notable from their bare foundations poking out from under the dirt and sand. In their place were shoddily manufactured shacks and lean-tos taking advantage of some of the only solid ground for miles around forming a slum-town labyrinth of squalor and abject horror. Train cars salvaged from the old rail lines that traveled through the town from the Badlands ringed the site, the gaps between them filled with shipping containers, sheet steel walls and other improvised defenses commonly seen across the Wastes. Were it not for the nightmare going on within, Appleloosa looked as unremarkable as the next Wasteland community dotting the San-Palomino Desert.

“K, so here’s the plan…” I began just as there came a loud explosion from the town below, the night sky lit up by an angry orange glow as one of the train cars exploded with such intensity I felt my jaw rattle slightly from the shockwave through the earth.

“W-was that you?!” Gold shouted over the noise, looking at my AMR which could only dream of being that powerful. “Great f-fucking plan!”

“That wasn’t me!” I hissed back at him, watching as the alarm was immediately raised and the once relatively quiet town was lit up with flame and filled with running ponies. “Something else is going on.”

Whatever had caused that explosion was definitely military grade ordinance as the fireball was incredibly short lived but the blast radius was quite wide with several nearby buildings being blasted apart by shrapnel or simply collapsing from the shockwave it produced. I was fairly certain that there were no other hits posted for the Appleloosa area as I had checked the board just prior to hitting the trail and had seen nothing. All being said however, it was always possible another bar somewhere else had something on their board not in wider circulation due to radio problems. Or perhaps the place just happened to be under an unrelated attack by another gang of Raiders. Or for all any of us knew, some Slaver high\drunk off his ass had started a game of 'hot potato' with a live grenade right next to the town arsenal; a situation more frequent than you would expect. Long story short though, whatever stealth options that had previously been available to us were now literally up in smoke and loud-n-proud was our only recourse.

“W-well what do w-we do n-now?!” Gold cried into my ear, floating out his brand new Sequoia and cocking back the hammer in preparation.

“Keep an eye out for a fancy ass bitch in a dress who looks important!” I yelled back, switching my visor between the view through my scope and the advanced optics package giving me a wider view of the chaos below us.

Honestly, whatever caused the explosion could potentially prove to be a great service to us as Jingle only had two options from what I could see. Either take her chances and dig into her office or whatever (Appleloosa didn’t seem like the kinda place to have a secret bunker) or make a run for it with her cronies for some alternate location in all the commotion. I hoped she would take the second option as we had a perfect vantagepoint overlooking the main entrance and exit and decent line of sight on most buildings. I wished my uplink feed to the wider military network still worked like it used to in the old days giving me whatever images of my target were on file for identification in the field. Sadly, all I had for identifying my target was that she looked like a bitch and let’s face it...a lot of ponies looked that way out here.

The amount of commotion would be enough to mask most of the noise of the AMR though the more we waited, the less likely it felt that our cover would hold out long enough to take the shot. I shot a look at Gold implying that I was uneasy about our chances when a shout rang out from the center of the town picked up by the microphones built into my helmet.

“We got ‘er! Th’ little bitch was makin’ a run fer it!” Came the ear grating call of a grossly scarred stallion with thick locks of greasy brown hair covering his face as he dragged something small and very colorful into the light of the center of town.

“Anutha one? Shiiiitt, I thought they’s all broked.” Yelled out another stallion as the group of slavers closed in on the scene.

The ugly brown one hurled a Unicorn filly into the center of the group. She was an utterly gorgeous little thing with a dark blue/teal coat and a gracefully curling mane of black, pink, and magenta. The poor thing was covered in scars and burns, obviously ‘recently used’ by one of the males in the crowd who all sneered at her, calling out what they intended to do with her once their turn came up. I was taken aback by both her horribly abused beauty as well as the implication that she had been the one behind the explosion. I didn’t blame her for a second for wanting to escape from the town and I brought my crosshairs to bear on the stallion closest to her, all thought of Jangle fleeing from my mind in my blind desire to free this one filly and protect whatever dignity she had left to cling on to. The punishment for inaction on my part would undoubtedly lead to her gang-rape and likely death.

As I lined up the shot, Gold squealing into my ear to save her from those depraved fucktards, the filly shot up and grappled the brown stallion to the ground, the sound of his neck snapping vividly audible in the silence before she leapt for another in the crowd. Shouts and cries rose once more as ponies began shooting blindly at each other as the filly incredibly tore through their ranks like a fucking Hellhound on a barrel full of Buck and Dash. Gold and I were both too stunned to do anything more than watch the scene unfold as a loud, angry buzzing sound rang out followed by howls of pain and blood starting to spurt everywhere like the fountains of hell. It was hard to track the filly even with my helmet’s optics but I was most certain she had gotten her hooves on a Ripper (a compact combat chainsaw) and was using it with such intense violence I didn’t think anypony down there stood a chance.

Within a minute the group of around forty was down to two. All victims of this lone filly's massacre or from friendly fire as each tried to hit such a small moving target in their midst. Of these remaining two, one chose to flee towards one of the shacks before the Ripper was most expertly hurled right into the back of his head, blood and brains spurting out everywhere but leaving the girl defenseless. The last pony standing was well prepared by this point and stared the filly down with a nasty looking homemade axe made from rebar and welded steel.

“Nice job!” the mare sneered as she looked around at all the gore she was standing and covered in. “You knocked out my competition for that sweet ass ya got there...and now ya got no weapon eh? Ain’t that a bitch...and you gonna be my bitch now.”

Gold didn’t even need to ask me, the bitch was in pieces all over the ground right as she finished her sentence. The AMR cracked the sound barrier as the 25mm round left the barrel, the muzzle brake spitting up sand and dirt all around us and the projectile turning the once cocky bitch into nothing but ragged meat like her compatriots. The filly jumped as the mare exploded in front of her but didn’t even pause to consider what happened, instead charging towards the stallion with the Ripper still lodged in his skull, the blades still spitting out gore until she yanked it out with a shriek. Instead of running off like I expected her to with the weapon in tow, she instead turned the Ripper on herself and held it to her neck, sparks flying everywhere as I realized she was trying to cut her explosive slave collar off. Which meant the fucking dead-mare’s switch!
I flung myself over the dune, barely remembering to drag my AMR behind me, and booked it straight for her, trying to cry out about the kill switch that could go off at any moment now that her handlers had died. There was no time to round the wall to make it to the front gates and the wall of train cars offered enough traction for me to leap and clamber up the wall like an obstacle in boot camp. Leaping as far as my legs would take me, I hopped from rickety roof to roof along the support beams that would take my weight far better than the sheet metal shingles and came to a rolling stop several feet from her in what must have been a shocking experience for the young girl. She shrank back from me, the Ripper falling from her red violet magic and lodged deep in the dirt. However, her horn still sparkled with magic for some reason.

“Hey, hey...it’s ok. I’m not gonna hurt you…” I said softly, raising my hooves and dropping the AMR I had floating behind me. “But if you want to be free, you have to listen to me. There’s a little switch, the ‘dead-mare’s switch’ that will go off if the pony carrying it dies and doesn’t hold the switch off until that collar comes off. Who was the one who had that switch?”

She stared at me with wide eyes (which I noticed with a jolt were mismatched, one deep red and the other a dark emerald green) and whispered, “I-I have it...right here…”

A severed foreleg floated over suspended in her red violet magic which I took, a small black box the size of a deck of cards still strapped onto it. I took notice that incredibly she had kept the switch from activating by holding the switch in the unarmed position. At that point Gold had finally caught up to me, wheezing and panting like dog out of breath and I informed him briefly on the situation, hoping my somewhat advanced skills with explosive devices would see me through at least disarming her collar. I had never attempted an explosive collar before but how much harder could they be compared to disarming a land mine or undetonated artillery shell?

“I-I can pick t-the lock.” Gold finally wheezed out as he got back up to his hooves. “I f-found that b-bobby pins make t-the best picks!”

I stared at him with apprehension and then nodded for him to give it a try while I fiddled with the device before me, cutting the device free of the severed leg with a wickedly sharp combat knife so I could better access it. While Gold retrieved a few bobby pins bent into an ‘L’ shape and a small screwdriver, I tried to find the access point on the kill-switch. I was fortunate that so many Pre-War devices shared universal docking ports for external computers, advanced explosive devices included. Had this thing been an IED, we would have been in far more trouble.

On my left leg I kept a small PipBuck 2000 strapped to the bracer inside a small leather pouch with a magnetic flap keeping it safe from dust and sand. It was nowhere near as glamorous or sophisticated as the 3000 model like the Stables or upper echelon military and government figures had received but it served me well. Allowing me to interface with stubborn technologies with its multipurpose adapter cord and archive of command codes I had stolen from the Army decades earlier. Long as the thing had an access port somewhere in its construction, I could hack a reasonably large range of devices with a few simple input commands.

Plugging in the small black cable that could retract back into the Pipbuck, the internal systems were displayed on my visor with a large message flashing, ‘BPM: 0, Device Armed and Ready’. I was continually stunned by this filly’s genius in holding the device in the unarmed position while completely fucking up forty something slavers in a manner I had not seen since the Feral Dragons of the trenches. It was a simple matter from there of simply inputting a command override code into the device (they all seemed to share the same master password of ‘ReD/EyE-101’) and watching as all the numbers faded and died. After disconnecting the input cable, I looked up just in time to see the lock on the filly’s collar click open and drop to the ground with an audible thump exposing the deep bruising and cutting it had done to the poor girl’s neck.

She stood there, sobbing softly, covered in blood and gore from horn to tail and looking the most pathetic thing I had ever seen in my life. Before I even knew what had come over me, I found myself hugging her tightly against me, my helmet discarded to the side letting her sticky red cheek press against my own as I felt myself weeping for this poor child’s plight. My usual stoic bravado was shattered...Gold had found my weakness and this poor pathetic little foal had stabbed right into my soft underbelly. And at that moment...I felt exactly the same way I had the day the bombs fell. Pure unadulterated fearful anguish that could not be stood against. These were tears that simply demanded release after being bottled up and willfully forgotten for so many terrible years.

“H-hey, I d-don’t want to r-ruin the m-moment but w-we’ve gotta move.” Gold stated as firmly as his stutter would allow, time and space realigning themselves in the logical part of my brain making me aware there were in most likelihood more angry ponies with big guns headed our way.

“Come with us if you want to live.” I stated as sweetly as I could to the still wide eyed and hyperventilating young mare who simply gave a quivering nod.

Gold tossed me my helmet which I immediately slammed down onto my head whilst scooping up my temporarily discarded AMR before we took collective stock of our surroundings. A quick peek over what I could identify amongst the carnage told me our target mare had either underdressed to blend in and was already dead or she had yet to show her face. Gold vehemently protested to the suggestion he and the filly move to a safe distance away to wait for me, indicating they were both capable fighters though the hollow, fearful look of the filly told me otherwise. In the end, I didn’t want to waste time bitching over it and told them to follow me closely and keep their eyes peeled for our target and anything else needing some holes in it.

Near the center of Appleloosa there stood a massive dilapidated barn that had likely served as a grain reserve for the town during the War but now stood as the most likely place to set up an H.Q. The front door was ajar as I expected it to be with all the ponies who had taken part in the massacre making walking inside a breeze. In all honestly, the barn wasn’t all that big with an ugly stage built out of pallets at the far end of a main hall filled with roughly cut wooden tables that were covered with the half eaten meals of the now deceased. Aside from a few dozen smaller rooms on the ground floor (which all just screamed ‘sexy-time room’) all that remained was a large office like room built into the hay loft with an old rusted out lift leading up to the door, the lift itself ‘out of reach’ ensuring Jangle was safe and sound above us.

“H-how are w-we supposed to g-get up there?” Gold asked with a whimper as he noticed the lift wasn’t on the ground floor. “T-too bad we don’t h-have a Pegasus with u-us…”

The rangefinder on my visor indicated the lift and the balcony leading to the door that acted as a landing pad were twenty-five feet above the ground we stood on with plenty of supporting beams holding up the somewhat lopsided office. The way I saw it, I had two options to get to her that didn’t need no cowardly ass Pegasus to do right. I could either use the environment to climb my way up (not exactly something they taught at bootcamp but a skill I picked up over the years) or I could blow out the damn support beams and literally bring her to our knees. Looking at the other two, who gazed up at me with muted awe, I had to choose which option would make me look the most badass to them since I was prone to a little vanity in my line of work.

Popping my neck, I crouched and replied, “Don’t send a featherbrain when a mare will do!” before charging forward and leaping onto one of the support beams.

From there it was a simple matter of hopping upwards between the beams spending only a fraction of a second in contact with either before jumping up and to the left, grabbing onto the base of the office. At that point, the edge of the lift was only six feet away, well within my capabilities and I swung myself upwards, curling over myself until my hind legs made contact with the base of the wall of the office before leaping out, using the wall as a springboard, and latching onto the edge of the rusty yellow lift that smelled like moldy hay. Even wearing fifty plus pounds of weapons and armor, I hardly noticed the strain in my shoulders as I pulled myself up onto the lift and paused to give a short bow to the two foals below. Gold clapped enthusiastically while the filly simply gave a small smile (her eyes still wide with shock) and I turned to kick the door down which felt much better than I expected. I suspected it was at least partly out of jealousy for being left out of the killing fields outside.

The door splintered beautifully beneath my combat boots and I strode in confidently, Sequoia out and ready to pop a cap in this bitch’s ass. To my surprise, she seemed to be expecting me, sitting comfortably in a worn out chair behind a grungy metal desk and giving me a sneering gaze. She was, for all shits and giggles, almost on point with what I had imagined her to look like based on the description Green had given me. She was unsurprisingly a rather attractive light baby blue colored Unicorn with a dusky tan mane and strikingly icy blue eyes that sneered at me from under a faded silk hat that had Canterlot written all over it. As per her description, she wore a slightly dirtied and threadbare business style skirt and blouse, all of which was accentuated with a small red and yellow flower, the same one that was a key ingredient in her product Buck. Red Berryl was a...personal addiction of mine after all.

“Well...you certainly don’t need somepony to walk you through my door now do you, Miss Crete?” She giggled softly, clapping her hooves in a slow, cocky manner that only made me want to kill her faster to spare myself the upcoming monologue.

“Well, certainly helps when all your doormares are all dead, so yeah.” I replied in my usual dry tone, bringing my barrel to bear right between her eyes just below her horn which I noticed was chipped towards the top exposing the sensitive core of bone beneath the thick layer of enamel.

“Indeed…” She responded with a sigh. “Look, if you came here to see me beg then you’re wasting your time and mine. If you’re looking for the money I acquired from Mr. Green...well, let’s just say that I’ve already spent it on a new batch of Buck that’s being brewed as we speak and as for his Dash? I’m afraid your mission here is pointless as I have already sold it to a buyer who paid top cap for it. So what are you going to do? Shoot me?”

Well...if even half of what she said was true, my pay for my troubles was going to be severely docked for missing objectives. Much as that sucked...it was hardly the end of the world; I had already experienced that once before and nothing the present had to offer could even compare to that experience. Even without the 80k and liters of liquidized Dash, killing Jangle plus the massacre outside would seriously destabilize her operational capacity. Raiding the town itself was bound to turn up enough shit to appease the anger of Green enough for me to slide my way out of his good side without getting myself put on the Boards. All at once...I felt empowered enough to finally admit to myself that it was high time to do something new with my life and recognize that working for Green was just too revolting to put up with anymore. I could live with the cut in pay with the five-hundred thousand cap golden parachute I had hidden under my toilet at home. There were other clients out there offering less morally challenged work and my skills would be in high demand anywhere I decided to go.

"You're hesitating!" She laughed with glee. "And to think I was going to try and hire you sometime down the line!"

"And what in fuck's ass makes you think I'd want to take contracts from the likes of you?" I growled back slightly offended in my professional pride. "Least the girls gettin' their brains fucked out under Green's operation are getting paid for all the dicks stuffed into them!"

She stared at me incredulously for my response and asked, "My, my...seems I've struck on a nerve without even trying! Don't you love it when emotional leverage is just so casually given to you without even asking?"

Hoooooooboy did she have far too much access to my buttons. I almost felt like a stranger in my own skin...feeling emotions and seeing a side of myself I thought long since dead. It was the fucking Wasteland! Everyone but the utmost silver spoon having asswipes struggled, bled and died in a perpetual survival of the fittest competition out here! There was no fixing the time I had spent abetting its deepest flaws...but there was a chance here to ensure survival to the otherwise doomed Souls living in this squalor. In captivity, none but their overlords had the best of chances...the...the least I could do was even the odds for them. I couldn't fend for them nor did I particularly want to. However...I could give them the means to balance the odds for themselves and send them back into the arms of Fate. What happened from there was theirs to decide but their right to that self-determination well, that was fundamental to the Desert Ranger motto. When they had originally coined the phrase, 'Against All Tyrants and engraved them upon the barrels of our Sequoias, they had been intended to reflect the Kaizar and Zebra rule in Equestria. In all reality, all the Great War had done was remove the tyrants of the old world and paved the way for new faces to take their place. Hmph...in that same vein of logic...the levels of treason I had engaged in with the assistance to the perpetuation of drug and slave lordship would have been punishable by execution in the field. No court marshal necessary for such heresy, just a bullet to the bastard's face from one yard away.

Without another word I pulled the gun away from her head and slipped it back into my holster causing her to stare at me with amusement. This was hardly an act of benevolence...it was fair punishment for one and justified reward for another far more deserving of this kill than I was. She had already, by some terrifying to consider miracle, made short work of the rest of her overlords. It was only fitting she got the final kill on her own personal tyrant.

" It seems I severely overestimated your nerve Miss Crete. How about we work out an exchan-ow!!!” She shrieked as I yanked her into the air by the mane with my magic and carried her over to the broken door.

“Sure, we can work out a goddamn exchange but I think there’s somepony who would reallllllly like to see you dead alright bitch-nozzle?” I said with a sneer of my own before adding, “Your death for her freedom? Deal!"

She blushed a deep red before I hurled her and her fine ass out over the balcony and into the dirt floor of the barn at the other two’s hooves The resulting spray of dirt seemed to stick to the filly’s blood soaked fur like flies to Wonderglue traps. The poor filly’s eyes only got wider, this time in amazement as she looked between the crumpled mare who gasped for breath and up at me standing in the doorway hopefully looking heroic or something cool like that. I joined them on the ground soon after, rolling over my armored right shoulder like I had been taught to dissipate the impact, and stood behind the mare presenting her as a present to the filly with no little amount of enthusiasm. This was as much for me as it was for her it seemed.

“Happy birthday!” I giggled softly as I held my hooves out in a mocking manner at the wheezing body of Jingle Jangle who was coughing up blood and more than likely suffering from a punctured lung. “I brought you the head of a snake!”

Gold’s face snarled in vicious fury as he got right up in her face yelling, “Y-you k-killed m-m-my fucking f-family you f-fucking whore!”

Jangle took another few seconds to catch her breath before looking up at Gold with yet another sneering, blood spattered grin.

“Oh right...the stuttering little know-it-all...well, can’t say I’m glad to see your ugly face again you filthy zombie. Did you come to ask how much they paid for your mother’s sorry ass? Here’s a hint...a hell of a lot more than what you would've been worth.” She giggled evilly, accentuated with a fit of coughing. “Enough for me to buy my boys a couple doses of Buck on the house with no negative balance on my books.”

Gold whipped out his new Sequoia and cracked it across her jaw sending her rolling to the hooves of the filly who stared down at her with trembling horror.

“Heh heh...well if it isn’t the little slut! Your asshole and snatch sore yet baby girl? The way all my boys kept looking at you, I just had to keep you around as a personal toy for their amusement. Happy workers are good workers as they say after all...and I hear you make one hell of a cum bucket eh?”

The filly shrieked in a shrill, heart wrenching wail of despair and rage as she reared up and brought her hooves crashing down upon the mare’s head driving it into the earth with a sickening crunch of the mare’s skull. Again and again and again she stomped on the mare’s skull until it was nothing but chunky red bits slowly getting buried by violently churned earth. Once her stamina seemed to finally give out, I felt my revolver get yanked from its holster and watched as she unloaded all six of the not exactly puny rounds into the lifeless corpse of Jangle; blood, flesh and even some bone flying out from the six massive holes she had created across the corpse. The cylinder clicked on empty probably twenty-something times before I finally caught her in my grip once again, tossing my helmet once more to the side to hold her sobbing, panting form against me. A position of comfort my mother had once used to calm me down when I was even younger than she was. It was...disconcertingly easy for me to do. I had never held somepony in such a way before but for a moment...the past blurred reality and I seemed to glimpse ever so slightly what it might have been like for her to comfort me so many decades ago.

“Shhhh…” I hushed softly, patting her sticky back as gently as I could. “It’s all over now...you’re free.”

I pulled away to give her a small encouraging smile, looking deeply into her stunning red/green eyes as she coughed. It was gentle at first and then became a bit violent as something thick and white ended up on my cheek which reeked like only stallion jizz could. I blanched more at the thought of how it ended up in her mouth than the fact it was on me and wiped it off quickly with a torn piece of Jangle’s dress that wasn’t soaked with fresh blood.

With that taken care off, the little mare blushed a deep red (which was fucking adorable on her teal/blue cheeks) and whispered, “S-sorry...M-Miss…”

“Oh trust me darling, I’ve had far worse stuff touch me than that.” I said kindly, hugging her again before standing. “Common’, we gotta get you out of here before any more shitheads show up. You ok enough to walk a little?”

She nodded and greedily accepted the small snack of canned corn from Gold whom she didn’t seem to fear in the slightest but rather thanked him for his help with a shy but genuine smile. Once she had scarfed down the can with a gusto found only in the chronically hungry, I retrieved one of the expensive but highly useful extra-strength healing potions stored in my medical supply satchel. The effects of the potion were almost immediate and many of her bruises, scars and cuts were all healed bringing her coat to a shiny, healthy luster despite the obvious signs of malnutrition. She moaned softly (if in an almost erotic tone) as the potion did its magic and she seemed to feel true relief for maybe even the first time in her life. Once the potion had run its course, full recovery lying behind another E-S potion or two that I didn't have, she sighed again in relief and looked at both of us with a wide smile of gratitude.

“T-thank you!” She exclaimed happily, rushing forward and hugging us both with all the enthusiasm of a filly. “I only dreamed I’d be able to escape from this place...and now it’s actually happening!”

“Mhm!” I responded with a smile, looking past her towards the door leading into the blood filled courtyard that was still illuminated by the town’s shoddy spotlights. “We’ll get you far away from here, I promise. But...I think we've got others who need liberating as well before we take off.”

She nodded eagerly and tugged on my hoof exclaiming, “I know where they hide all the keys! That’s how I got out! Common’, let’s go!”

I giggled softly at her enthusiasm and began to follow, plopping my helmet back over my head before I stopped and looked back at the office Jangle had built to be above all the wretched lives she bought and sold like mere cattle. Without hesitation I used my AMR to blast all the support beams out from under her office causing it to collapse with a mighty crash of twisted wood and metal to the ground. What did stand out from the debris was the jet-black safe that I seemed to not have noticed when in the office earlier, more than likely hidden out of sight. There literally could be anything good inside from money, to drugs, to drug recipes, to ammo, to spare keys, to fucking who knew what. I was going to find out one way or another. If she knew were the keys were and the town was now seemingly cleared of Slavers, I had some time to fuck around with this thing to satisfy my curiosity.

“Hey Gold!” I called out pointing to the safe. “Let’s see you pick that one eh?”

He huffed and immediately went over to it as if I had insulted his honor and said, “W-what? You d-doubt my s-s-skills?”

“Not at all, no. Just wanted to see if you’re up to the challenge.” I replied with a smirk as he set to work with his screwdriver-and-bobby-pin method.

Our nameless little friend was still a bit jumpy and reacted to sudden movements with wide eyes. Thankfully, it was quickly replaced with the same charming small, timid but excited smile. She had already retrieved the massive keyring for the town from where she had left it earlier and seemed happy to be back inside away from the carnage she had wrought. Now, she sat nearby hugging her tail to her chest and staring at the gigantic black revolver floating in her magic. Softly scuffing the dirt some ways in front of her, I got her attention and nodded next to her to ask if it was ok that I sit beside her. She gave a shaky but happy nod in response and, after I had gotten comfortable beside her, returned my gun back to me with gentle care.

"S-so many...so many months dreaming of d-doing that..." She whispered so quietly I only heard thanks to my helmet.

"I..." I began, only to stumble over half a dozen non-starter sentences unable to find the words necessary to comfort someone. I just hadn't been required to employ empathy all that much over the last two centuries and it was more obvious than ever before that I wasn't a people pony.

"Shh..." She chided softly, looking me in the visor with a soft expression. "I...I know what you're trying to say. It's ok."

As Gold fiddled about with the lock, my own awkwardness kept me in an uncomfortable silence that seemed to last for hours. I wanted nothing more than to say the right words to her. But...for the love of Celestia I didn't even know what the fuck they would even be! Was I going to apologize for indirectly contributing to her captivity? Reassure her that everything was going to be alright when anypony with a fucking brain knows that's an empty ass promise? Much as she needed the counseling and therapy treatment...I was beginning to fear that she wasn't the only one in need of an intervention of self.

I only remembered the revolver was empty after I had been mindlessly playing with it in my magic for the eighteen hours I had spent wandering my internal mental crisis. The small, if sudden, sound of the latch detaching from the hammer assembly caused her eyes to dart over to the cylinder as the auto-ejector kicked in and the six empty casings she had fired came flinging out. Such a sound...a chorus of empty brass that tingles the spine in a satisfying way while the sight of gleaming metal showering the earth was just as captivating to experience. An experience she seemed entirely mesmerized by with a look of such wonder that I was reminded of someone else who had looked much the same when she too had first seen the Sequoia in action. It had...been quite some time since...she had entered my thoughts so vividly.

“I...I guess it’s as good a time as any to ask...what’s your name sweetie?” I asked softly, looking towards her slowly as I slid six fresh rounds into the cylinder via a speedloader while storing away the empties for reuse.

“Huh? Oh...heh..” She replied with a blush of embarrassment as I caught her staring at me. “M-Melody. Melody Shine.”

I bit back a whistle at her gorgeous name and how well it fit the veritable little supermodel sitting beside me. In a way I actually envied her name for being way more normal sounding than Athena could ever be. (And don’t even get me started on the absurdity of Crete for a last name.) She seemed to be in her mid-to-late teens judging by the somewhat more refined tone of her voice though her height, which was most likely not helped by her malnutrition, put her more on the eleven to twelve year old side. Long story short, I had no fucking clue how old she was.

“Damn...that’s beautiful…” Was all I managed to say.

She blushed harder and squeaked out another thank-you as Gold triumphantly proclaimed (as impressive as his stutter would allow), “H-ha ha! I have d-done it!”

We all surged forward excitedly to see what crazy psycho bitch had hidden away in her oversized safe and were not disappointed. Despite her claims to the contrary, there inside was a tremendously large burlap sack labeled ‘CAPS’ with big black messy letters alongside several small wooden crates of liquid Dash and powdered Buck. While these unrefined components were only really worth anything to people with the equipment to finish the products, they still had high value. What had even more value was the small cache of magical energy weapons tucked into the back of the safe, a pretty rare find so far from their limited deployment zone on the Eastern Front. Aside from some finely polished Pre-War gold bars depicting Celestia raising the sun in all her glory (which were a huuuugggeee collectors item), all that was left was a leather bound ledger the size and width of my helmet. Certainly not light reading but something that could prove both interesting and infuriating to read on a bathroom break or something. The contents were probably enough to scare the shit out of anyone so why not eh?

“Okay, c-can we p-please get out o-of here now…?” Gold whimpered as he returned his tools to his bags. and checked the load on his new revolver for the hundredth time.

“Onnnee second.” I replied, stuffing the bag of caps into my mostly empty left saddlebag, the deep pocket spell struggling a little to fit the filly sized bag of bits inside.

My inner monologue obviously hadn't been heard by either one of them but I didn't have time to go over why today was Athena-Gets-Her-Shit-Together-Day. Motivation to change was not a concept I was familiar with anymore except as a source of pain and hard work, something to be avoided in order to keep life as functionally tolerable as possible for me. I had taken the first steps towards getting myself into a better state of mind and with these kids...something was telling me I was going to be alright in the end.

Next Chapter: Chapter Eight: Promotions! Promotions All Around! Estimated time remaining: 28 Hours, 54 Minutes