Fear couldn't tell how long it had been on the dreary road. Had it been maybe a month since Fear's first murders? He couldn't keep track of time as well as his mother. Smudges of muted orange, brown, and gray smeared across the landscapes surrounding the two traveling ponies Fearei and Compressed Crate. Nearby, old abandoned farmhouses popped up every half mile or so; rotten old stalks, dilapidated fences, and large boulders were all that spanned the gaps between buildings that were only fit for temporary protection from the elements before it was necessary to move on to a place located closer to current civilizations. How much time had to have passed to eliminate the need for places once so full of familial life? A much simpler era.

“Ugh, these places are just like where you died.” Fear murmured over the sound of jazz music blaring from his mother's radio.

No response this time from his mother.

Fear continued. “Yeah I feel the same way. It's terrible. Ponies in the past must've been evil to let all this happen.”

Storm's dead body spoke up. Aw, don't be that way my little Nightlight. They couldn't have known.

“Well, like you said, hindsight's always twenty-twenty.” He still barely understood the reference. Something about sight, but why did you have to attribute numbers to sight? What did each increment even mean? Fear paused. “I suppose the same can't be said for you since you always wore glasses anyway.” Fear chuckled under his breath. Which made Crate very uncomfortable, occasionally glancing back to the little colt following him.

There was no counter from his mother, which made Fear extremely frustrated.

“Look, it wasn't that big of a deal alright? I liked your glasses. They always made you seem more... Comfy.”

Thank you, my little Nightlight. The response was almost silent.

It had been going like this for hours now, and Crate was becoming increasingly concerned about the mental well-being of his traveling partner all the while, listening to one side of a clearly enthralling conversation with the stuffed pony on Fear's back. The stallion's fright that Fear was going to beat him to death with the butt of the Garand in his sleep on a whim escalating, especially with how unstable some of the conversation had been.

Fear was a very open pony, and had mentioned early on to Crate that he'd be of little use in a fight should they get into one, because he was out of ammo for his Garand. He mentioned using it to hunt radbeasts for food. Crate didn't believe him in the slightest.

The stallion was a caramel-coated earth pony, with shaggy fetlocks and choppy, straight brown mane and tail. He looked a little greasy and rather unkempt. A sigil of a four dimensional crate on his flanks. Not that anypony understood the conceptual side of math well enough to discern the meaning behind such a cutiemark. Strapped to his left foreleg was a loaded revolver, and on his back a pair of leather saddlebags carrying more supplies than it should be able to hold.

“Bluh, I can't believe we had to travel with an earth pony just to feel safe, Mom.” Fear muttered with a toxic tone.

Crate caught the tail end of that and his ears flicked in offense. But he decided to let it go. There were a lot of ponies out in the wasteland with supremacist views. But to hear such from a tiny colt was disheartening.

“I don't feel safe at all. But I suppose it's better than nothing. He has been... Somewhat kind. Aside from that judgmental stare he keeps throwing us.”

Storm didn't respond.

Crate however did. He responded with jolting his head toward the colt. His eyes widened; bulged out slightly. He had been very careful not to stare. Glance yes, but not stare. His hackles rose on end and he got a wave of goosebumps pouring across his skin.

“Still, after going around and sniping raiders and radbeasts I suppose it's nice to have somepony around me who doesn't want to kill me. Maybe good ponies aren't that bad. Even if he is an earth pony.

Crate rolled his eyes nervously and snorted. He was getting a little tired of the treatment.

Fear had been wandering aimlessly through the smothering darkness and scattered light, under the foamy cloud cover and above the dead lands, as if he might someday ascend by random chance. Or meet his mother again, never knowing where his legs would take him next. Just walking and surviving until the day he found the answer as to why everything was the way it was.

The colt's ears perked up a moment later and he spun around, having felt something enter the radius of his sixth sense. Of course it was a very small radius, too small to be of any real use, but it allowed him to 'see' the two hoofpads posing as scavvers before they got close enough to do anything. There was a click of a gun. Crate was still walking.

“Crate-” Fear was cut off.

Crate turned around languidly and froze.

The second hoofpad's, Ebony Glint's, voice was raspy, like the vocal cords had received some damage over the course of his life. “Why don't you two set down your saddlebags, I think all you got is more than enough payment for coming into our territory.”

Crate took a step forward, nearly seething. “I wasn't told there were scavvers in this area.”

Ebony shrugged. “Eh, we're more like knights of the road. Now. Drop it.”

Ivory Hammer, the one holding a gun in his mouth, nodded his head at their gear, encouraging them with the motion, all while eyeing Fear's gleaming pendant greedily.

Crate's lips gradually tugged downward, his head cocking to the side and hope sliding off his face. He grumbled something under his breath that made the two hoofpads grin victoriously. He gave his head a few shakes, twisting to look at his little companion.

Fear meanwhile had murder in his eyes. But he knew better than to express his feelings right then and there as he gazed over to the two stallions covered in monochromatic colors and decked out in leather armor, looking like the blight upon the wasteland Fear believed they were. Their eyes weren't yellow, but one was armed to the teeth in holstered knives belt-strapped across his body like some kind of video game protagonist. The other was holding a shoddily crafted handgun, as if the parts that made it up had come from different guns, all of which were low quality. As if he had taken the best parts from each to create a working one. He had one other handgun on his body that was rather ornate, but certainly was not meant as a primary firearm.

The colt's legs buckled. He bowed his head as if in defeat. His horn lit up and his mother was caressed by the telekinetic pulse, about to be lifted off of him. Within the slipshod handgun Ivory held in his mouth, the same warm vanilla aura coating Fear's horn also reached into the barrel, slithering along it and latching onto the firing pin. Fear could not afford to let anything of his be taken, and neither could he allow these mean ponies to continue living.

The two stallions were none the wiser. Crate was busy twisting his head back and leaning his body to the side, shifting and pulling his saddlebags off with his teeth. He honestly wished they'd just take the colt's stuff and leave him alone.

Seconds passed as Fear's mother lifted into the air. He released the hold on it, causing her to fall onto his back once more. Fear looked up, smiling.

Ivory's face contorted in confusion, eyebrows screwing up and jaw loosening slightly.

Ebony also looked curious. “What's the matter colt, having second thoughts?” His voice was full of mirth, a chuckle escaping his lips.

Fear smiled. A deadly, sinister smirk that matched his glittering ruby eyes too well, tilting his head back. “Eh, you could say that.”

Crate rolled his eyes. “Kid, just give them what they want. None of us are getting out of this unharmed otherwise.”

Fear's head jolted toward Crate, giving him a death glare.

Ebony smirked. “Whatever, just shoot him Ivory. Give him something to really complain about.”

Ivory depressed the trigger with his tongue. Or at least tried to. But nothing happened. It didn't go off.

Fear's head turned back toward the stallion aiming a gun at him.

Everything went in slow motion. “What are you waiting for Ivory, shoot him! Is it jamming again?”

Ivory looked flustered.

Fear pushed as much emotion as he possibly could into his thaumic gland. Transferring it into etheric energy. He concentrated and willed the power through his horn. Creating a powerful force.

The gun in Ivory's mouth wrenched to the side as he continued trying to pull the trigger, causing his head to turn along with it. His eyes widened in surprise at the sudden force. He pulled the trigger again during the motion, and regretted it instantly. He knew exactly what was happening only a moment later.

Fear let go of the firing pin.

There was a loud bang.

A nasty squelch.

The bullet had fired right into Ebony's shoulder, through the lungs. He stiffened, neck craning down to look at his wound. The round had gone straight through the leather, and had managed to perforate one of the knives, causing it to nearly explode, the shrapnel scattering, some of it lodging into his body, creating even more damage. Ebony's eyes bulged out as he realized what had just happened, his body going into shock and falling to the ground, already bleeeding into his lungs. He was drowning. He coughed as much as he was able; his eyes rolled back. Blood flew from his mouth like spittle. He tried to say something but couldn't. Just wheezing.

Ivory was bewildered, and completely caught off guard. He barely had time to realize his friend was dying before Fear had already come up with his next plan of action. He'd slipped the revolver out from Crate's holster, who was stunned speechless all the while. Cocked the hammer as it zoomed up and pressed into the stallion's temple, and blasted straight away. Puncturing the skull and obliterating the brain. Causing Ivory's eyes to cross over his snout before he slumped to the ground as well.

Fear looked at his kills with a large smile plastered across his face and hovered the gun over to Crate again, offering it by the handle. “See Mom?” He looked back to the stuffed body on his back with starry, excited eyes. “I got this all covered.” Fear sounded more than enthused. He was brimming with giddiness. His smile splitting from ear to ear. Starting to mock them as Ebony bled out on the ground. “Oooh wow I'm such a big bad pony, teaming up and ambushing others just to make a quick cap. Wow, so evil.” Fear pranced about, singing the words like they were the lyrics to a song. “I love mugging colts and enslaving foals. It's too bad I can't do anything myself, and I definitely can't do anything right!” Fear stood in place and stuck his tongut out at the stallion who was left living, even if just barely, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

Ebony gasped out, his quivering eye staring at Fear as he drew closer, before his soul left his body.

Crate took the gun by the grip with his teeth and shoved it into his holster, staring intently at the colt who was now rifling through the two stallion's belongings. Fear took one of the cleaner, sturdier looking knives and put it into his bags, abandoning the rest. Crate stumbled over his words. “I... Uh. Um. Th-thanks, kid. That was. Uh. I'll admit that was a little new for me. And dear Celestia you're a quick thinker.” He coughed into his hoof. “I thought you said you couldn't defend yourself well?”

Fear thought about it as he continued patting the stallions down, getting a little blood on him from what was pooling on the ground. Frowning lopsidedly. “Eh. Mom taught me how to take care of a gun, and how they operate. And I realized I could feel out the firing pin in the gun while I was holding my mother. Make them think I was obeying while plotting their downfall.”

Crate ahemed. “Hm. Nicely done kid. I guess I, uh. Kind of owe you now, huh?”

Fear tapped his chin with a hoof, ceasing exploring the dead bodies for only a moment. “Well, I wouldn't mind having a place to stay. Or find some more ammo for my Garand.”

The stallion smiled a little, ignoring how used to scavenging corpses the colt appeared to be given he was so young. “Well, my wife and I wouldn't mind hosting you for a few days. You don't eat much do you?”

Fear shook his head. “Nah. When you gotta live off of barely anything for awhile you learn to spread your resources out as much as you can. Some days I refuse to even eat anymore because I want to wait until I'm sure I need it, or that I have another source.” He finished rooting around and turned to look at Crate, smiling widely, his forehooves caked in blood.

“Well then. I suppose since you saved my hide, or at least my gear, it'd only be right to invite you for a spell.”

Fear beamed. “I would really appreciate that!”

Crate turned around and started walking down the path they'd been going previously, beckoning him to follow. “Well, let's get moving then. We're losing daylight kid.”

The colt galloped around in circles, letting out cheering whinnies of victory, pumping his hooves against the ground. Crate turned back to watch him for a moment before turning back around and shaking his head with a chuckle. Fear stopped in his tracks, lips pulled up into a happy snarl, his face like a lighthouse with how bright it was. He turned to look at his mother as he trotted behind Crate. “Wow! I'm really glad we didn't kill him!”

Another bout of discomfort washed over Crate, but he tried to laugh it off.

Remember your loving nature, my little Nightlight, and you will never truly go without. Keep hope alive in your heart, as you always did when I was around. With it, the wasteland can never truly win.

As that voice echoed in his mind, Fear's ears gave a little twitch, and he felt a little relaxed. Suddenly the wasteland seemed a little brighter. The clouds almost scintillating with concealed light. DJ-P0N3's voice piped up over Fear's radio. “Got an old story for all you colts and fillies out there today! A story of slaves being freed in the Chicoltgo area! Sit tight and strap yourselves in if you've never heard it before.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Hhd5XQDZvQ