Swift leads the way for Gearing, while Pharynx continues to lazily ride across Gearing’s back, on a slight detour towards a collapsed farm house of some kind. As they get closer they can tell what had once been the house has completely collapsed into a pile of rubble. Only a pair of the corner studs are still remaining vertical. While the rest of the house has been reduced to so much refuse. A short distance from the house is the family garage that is somehow, despite all logic, still standing while being skewed way off square.

Gearing has Pharynx hop off his back as he gets close to the garage and finally figures out exactly what is still holding the garage up. And it’s not simply the willpower of an inanimate object.

Through the gap where one of the garage’s double doors lays widely ajar, and the other lays flat on the ground off its hinges, a large delivery wagon takes up almost half of the interior space of this garage. Where it had once been used to move the produce and cargo of this small operation, it currently serves another function. As a stubborn obelisk that would make any earth pony proud in its refusal to allow the rest of the garage to fall as the wall rests across it’s hulking metal sides.

As Gearing is heading inside slowly along the side of the wagon not currently holding up the building, Swift asks, “You sure that’s smart to go in there?”

Gearing pauses and looks back at her over his shoulder as he grins. “Maybe not. But considering how it looks, and from what I can see from here, the inside’s not been picked over much.” He waves the thought away lightly with a wing. “I’m not worried about the roof falling on me. Won’t kill me. But you two stay out here.” He looks over at Pharynx and smirks. “Especially you, little one. You’d get squished if it fell on you.”

Pharynx frowns and sits down. “No thanks. I’ll watch from here.”

Swift turns and heads over to the rubble of the house as she says, “If you need any help, just yell.” Gearing waves the thought away and continues inside as Swift starts picking over the collapsed house.

Gearing slinks in, careful not to hit any of the hanging wood from the ceiling as he’s not sure how much vibration it would take for this centuries old building to finally give up and just crumble apart of its own volition. But, once inside, he finds that there’s much more room than there appears from the exterior. Also, that his thought of there being some worthwhile salvage left because of it’s rickety nature proves valid. While not a large armory or stockpile of food, this garage also housed what must have once been the farm family’s workshop. Among the collection of rotting wooden material that’d fallen from the slowly crumbling roof, Gearing finds the tell tale signs of craftsponies. Various tools and machining components, quite a few of which are rusted beyond any real use beyond it’s metal weight, sit surrounded with other supplies. Gearing quickly sorts through the various bins and sorting area, pulling out the few items he thinks he can actually use. Then proceeds to stow the items he’s pretty sure he can trade off to somepony else. Among them, and stacked both around the workbench and in the back of the wagon, Gearing finds a couple locked containers.

Instead of sitting there and tempting the fates, and wayward stiff winds, Gearing quickly start sliding the boxes out of the garage and outside for him to work on and hopefully unlock them. Humorously, the boxes glow and get pulled away from the entrance, and he looks out to see Pharynx stacking the boxes near himself with his levitation magic as he keeps his distance. After Gearing finishes removing the locked containers, and pocketing the other loose valuables, he starts heading back out.

Gearing sits down with the boxes and gets to work unlocking and sorting out the contents. Pharynx watches from nearby, tilting his head side to side as he seems to find the entire process fascinating. After a couple boxes, and watching Gearing remove some items and toss others, Pharynx gets up and trots over with Swift to look through the rubble of the house.

Adorably, Pharynx comes trotting back every now and then with a big smile on his face and floating one piece of salvage or another that Gearing seems to be collecting. A screwdriver here. A couple bolts and washers there. Each time beaming with pride as Gearing thanks and praises him for helping them out.

Gearing still isn’t sure about Pharynx. The whole situation is just unnerving. But, he’s willing to give the kid the benefit of the doubt. Still, he doesn’t plan on giving him the keys to the city, as it were, anytime soon. As Gearing tosses aside the last metal box, that he frustratingly discovered had nothing but mostly rotten wood scraps in it, Pharynx comes trotting over squealing with joy.

“Gearing! Come look what me and Swift found!” Pharynx says happily as he hops around Gearing in a circle.

Gearing chuckles and follows him over to find Swift sitting on a ripped cushion from an old couch as she points a hoof towards an area of freshly uncovered debris. “Looks like they had a safe on an upper floor that fell down. It’s still locked.”

Gearing hops over and starts slowly working on the lock. Despite being located in some small rural farm, the lock is, frustratingly, harder to open than all of the boxes he’d already worked through combined. A couple bobby pins are snapped in sacrifice to the cause until the tumblers finally relent and he’s able to open the door. Inside Gearing finds a collection of paperwork, mostly financial records that no long pertain to anything or anypony, along with a key to some safety deposit box somewhere, and a small collection of ammunition of various sizes. Shotgun shells being the largest representative, but a few 10mm rounds and some rounds that’ll actually fit his rifle round out the collection. He grabs the ammo and the key, leaving the personal documents in the safe where they were.

Having salvaged all they care to spend time uncovering, they continue on the trail to Megamac, with Pharynx, again, hopping onto Gearing’s back and enjoying the free travel accommodations.

After they’ve been traveling a while longer they spot a pair of gates set into a large wall made of scrap metal, wagons, and even a couple capsized train cars. Inset into the wall, just on the interior’s side of it, is a tower that looms over the edge, with a couple ponies keeping watch on the horizon. Even from this distance, Gearing can see the binoculars pointed in his direction by one guard, and the rifle with the oversized scope aimed right at him in the magical over glow of the unicorn standing next to them. The front gate opens briefly, allowing a group of ponies with a wagon full of supplies, and one hyperactive foal in the back, inside. Then the gates close behind them and Gearing notices the trio of ponies apparently keeping watch at the entrance.

Gearing gives a large smile and a wave at the tower and the guardsponies, gauging their reaction.

They don’t shoot. Which is a vast improvement over the last pony that had looked at them through a scope. He watches them closely, paying careful attention to the muzzle of the firearm he can see. While he keeps a smile on his face and keeps a steady pace towards them, he plans on jumping to the side the moment he sees a flash from the barrel end. Swift might hate him for getting plowed over by him, but he’s sure she’ll get over it pretty quickly if he manages to keep her from getting a fatal lobotomy.

But, none of those preparations are required as they approach the wall. They’re simply watched and, judging by the look of the unicorn mare to the left, the sight of random ponies coming up to the gate is so common she’s actually bored. She gives them a side long look as she raises a hoof to her mouth and yawns, before turning her eyes further out to the wasteland. The shotgun with the drum on its belly gives a good enough warning that she may seem reserved, but at close range anyone stupid enough to start trouble would be turned into a sludgy mess rather quickly.

He can appreciate that dichotomy and respect it. The latter of which is probably the more important aspect. Though he can only guess to why the older buck on the far right is the only one out here without a set of armored barding on currently.

Like the mare on the left, the two earth pony stallions talking to each other on the right are likewise a living juxtaposition. Though they stand there looking as calm as can be, Gearing can see the tell tale signs of a stallion not to be fucked with lightly. The younger of the two stallions, a brown buck with a matte black mane that looks to Gearing like he’d just stepped off the front line, is standard fare for an imposing figure. Even through his armor Gearing can see the framework of rather thick muscles.

Though the older stallion with him, through whatever form of hell he’s survived thus far, has the first beat in every category. His face is one that has seen a lot, not just in a matter of quick violence like most of the wasteland’s denizens, but genuine age. This stallion isn’t a young buck anymore and, judging by everything Gearing’s seen thus far, that puts him in a rather niche category. The one where individuals had faced down the wasteland, over a long period of time, and actually won.

Being alive, still alive, even after going through whatever this stallion had been through and the wastes had thrown at him, is enough of a metric for Gearing to declare victory.

But then, what the fuck is up with this stallion’s eyes? Gearing wonders. They’re practically glowing? No. They are glowing.

As the older stallion drops down his sunglasses to regard Gearing and company, sizing them up, the yellow hue that looks like targeting sensors from some weapon about to unleash a skywagon full of whoop ass on anyone in range radiates enough for Gearing to notice. But, they aren’t cybernetic, not that he can tell anyway. The eyes almost look normal. Except they glow.

Neat. The little blue pegasus in his head comments as it scratches it’s chin and looks at the old timer. Maybe we should ask what the deal is?

Gearing instantly decides against it. After all, old people didn’t get and stay old by being easy to kill in this kind of environment. Which means this old stallion was as dangerous as he looks, if not more so. A really bad pony to make enemies with by making a stupid insensitive or nosy comment.

As they are trotting up, the older earth pony looks them over one at a time. Tilts his head looking at Pharynx a bit confused, as he sees him still riding Gearing, then at Swift. After a few moments he glances back over at Gearing, then back at Swift, but does a double take as he goes back to staring at Gearing. He cocks his head ever so slightly as he partially closes one eye, and Gearing can’t help but notice as he slides his glasses down to get a more full look at him. Those glowing eyes are hard to miss.

But, he seems to have a fan. So he strolls right up to the older stallion but, just before he gets as close as he was intending, which would be practically invading personal space, the unicorn mare raises one hoof to stop them as she stifles a yawn while saying, “Hold ooooon.” She smacks her lips a bit before muttering, “Damn card game.” She shakes her head and looks over at her earth pony companion as she raises an eyebrow and is obviously expecting something. But he stands there silent as he watches as Gearing and the older stallion seem to have a face off right there in front of the town’s gates.

Gearing and the older stallion stare into each other’s eyes for a while, creating an awkward silence that is only broken when Gearing gives a slight tilt of his head and grins before he says, “Yeah, I’ve been told I have some rather dazzling eyes…” He flutters his eyes at the older stallion then gives a chuckle as the old buck shakes his head in confusion.

The younger stallion looks them over then asks in a rather gruff voice, “State your business, smart guy.”

Gearing sits down and waves towards Swift. “We’re out looking for some supplies and wondering if there’s anyone here to barter with.” The unicorn mare’s head jumps over to look at him and, like the older earth pony had before, suddenly finds him more interesting as she tilts her head and tries to figure him out. Gearing, notices her staring, then flashes her a smile and gives his wings a light scattering flutter as he waves it off. “Sorry, hun. I’m already spoken for and am a happily taken stallion.”

She whips her head violently back and forth as she squeezes her eyes shut and tries to process what she’d just heard. She looks at the two stallions in front of Gearing and asks, “The hell is with this protect-” She goes silent mid sentence with a raised hoof of the older earth pony, in her direction, as Gearing’s eyes jerk from him to her and become far less friendly and flirtatious.

“I’ll handle this…” the older buck says to her before turning to look at Gearing. “Sorry. She doesn’t know. Don’t mind her.”

Gearing tilts his head, looking at the older buck as he works through the situation.

Tick. Tick. CLICK.

His eyes go wide for a moment in realization then says with a sigh of resignation, “Yeah… I get that a lot.”

The earth stallion smacks his lips and nods. “I bet. So. They have plenty of folks inside with goods and services. The fee’s 10 caps a pony… even for the foal.” He motions towards the younger buck in the armor next to him. “Talk with them, they’ll get you sorted.”

Gearing looks beyond the two stallions and starts taking in the walls and the gates a bit. Despite looking like a rusted mess, the walls look pretty sturdy as far as he can tell. This is probably as good of a fortification that could be managed with what little was available in the wastes. The production centers were some of the most anticipated to be struck in case of all out armageddon, so it’s no wonder they don’t even have the capability to build better structures.

Maybe in enough time. And especially if he has anything to say about it. But for now it’s the best they can do.

But, before all of that, he needs what he needs, and the first step for that is, apparently, behind these walls. He looks back at the brown stallion and asks, “So, you’re charging ponies to trade. Even before they get inside to trade? What if there’s nothing in there we want?”

The brown stallion shakes his head. “No, it’s not to trade, it’s a basic toll. Everyone pays. It funds the local defense and is used to deal with psycho raider bullshit.”

Gearing grins and raises a hoof. “Ah! But that’s pretty lucrative in itself isn’t it? Not just in a warm fuzzy feeling for doing a good deed, but for filling the saddle bags too. Am I right?”

The older stallion chuckles as he appraises Gearing. “I think I might just start liking you… Not scared of them at all, are you?” Gearing simply shrugs in reply.

The brown stallion chuckles and shakes his head before he looks at Gearing. “Yeah, sometimes. Other times not really.” He looks Gearing over then sighs and rolls his eyes. “Look, I’m not trying to give you the shake down. Them’s the fees for entry and if you don’t want to pay you can’t come in.”

Gearing tilts his head and zips his eyes over to Swift as he thinks over the situation and then looks over at the five different individuals he can see currently. “So if we just said ‘no’ and turned to leave?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

The stallion waves his hoof off behind them. “Then off you go… have a nice day. We’re not stopping ya.”

Gearing shrugs as he looks at Swift, apparently satisfied with the answer enough to not worry about imminent slaughter, but tries to figure out how he wants to go about doing this. He just earned a good bit of caps off those bomb collars, after a lot of haggling, but he’d hate to spend it just to get through the door, only to find out he can no longer afford what he wants and needs after getting in.

Swift looks at the guard, having similar thoughts on handing over her meager funds, and asks, “There anyone inside that might pay for a hired hoof?”

The guard looks over at her and shrugs. “Plenty of folk need things done, what did you have in mind?”

Swift grinds a hoof into the ground as a grin slowly starts growing across her muzzle. “How about a bit of muscle?”

He nods and motions inside. “I’m sure there’s a few in there. Guard duty or notes on wanting someone dealt with. But if you want some real money, there’s the tournament starting soon.”

The older stallion chuckles. “It’s mostly for fun and caps. A sort of local preliminary to earn a place with the rest of the wannabes at the next bout. Then do well enough there and get an invite to try out at the Hoofington Arena.” He grins at her. “If you think you got what it takes that is.”

Swift snorts and tilts her head up as she look at him sideways. “Oooh I’m sure I do.”

He snickers and shrugs. “Well then... Entry fee’s 100 caps...”

The brown buck chimes in, “So that’d be 30 for you to get in… 130 over all.”

Swift tilts her head and asks, “How about… you let us in… pay my entry fee, and I split the prize money with you?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re so full of yourself. Think I haven’t heard that one before? Look. If you lose, then I’m out the caps. I’m not having that come out of my pay if you decide to skip out on the bill.”

She sits up straight and huffs, “Are you questioning my honor?”

He rolls his eyes then points a hoof at her. “Filly, I don’t even know you.”

She smirks at him. “Let me in, and I’ll give you a good show… and then you will.”

He looks over at Gearing and nods a head towards Swift. “Is she serious?”

Gearing shrugs and chuckles as he realizes her bartering and negotiation skills need a lot of work. “Yeah, afraid she is. But...” He raises a hoof for emphasis as he looks the brown stallion in the eyes. “I can vouch that she’s got one hell of a mean left hoof.”

Swift looks over at him for a moment as she tilts her head then, realizing the reference, cringes and looks away at a dead patch of grass. That’s certainly a nice patch of grass. Dull grayish brown color scheme wonderfully compliments the rest of the Wasteland Chic decorating the landscape. The little pony in her head critiques as she sips on wine and tries to completely ignore her surroundings for a few moments.

The stallion looks over at Swift and is about to say something, but looks to his side as he gets nudged. He glances sideways at the older stallion long enough to catch eye contact and the slight nod of his chin. The brown buck lets out a sigh as he nods and says to Swift, “Alright. But you’re going to be watched. If you lose you’re paying for the entry fees and tolls. If you win, you pay me half of what you get.” He points a hoof at her. “I expect payment when the fight’s over. Don’t pay and you’ll be thrown in jail. Skip out and you’ll be hunted down. Got it?”

She scoffs and pulls away. “I don’t need to be threatened! I have my honor. You’ll get your money.”

He rolls his eyes and nickers. “I hope so, getting a team to hunt down deadbeats is such a hassle. You could just avoid the whole annoyance by just paying up now. I really don’t want to mess with the headaches.”

Swift waves it away dismissively. “You’ll get your money, don’t worry.”

Gearing shakes his head then looks at the guard. “You got a pretty big town here.”

The earth pony looks at him sideways and raises an eyebrow. “Yeah…?”

Gearing nods and points a hoof at the gate. “Big place like this. I’m sure you have all kinds of headaches trying to keep it running. Equipment breakdowns. Water filtration, lighting, communications, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera…” He taps on his chest and grins. “I just happen to be one of, if not the, most skilled technician you’ll ever meet. I mean, I got a mechanically inclined mind, after all.” He points at his own head and gives it a couple metallic clanks with his hoof as he smirks.

The guard starts snickering. “Actually. Yeah. We do. A lot. Hell, you give ole Breaker Bar, the head of maintenance, a hoof and maybe he’ll finally stop bitching about shit breaking down.”

Gearing grins and tilts his head. “So, how about I barter my skills that way? I mean, I could pay you now, I have the caps, but you’d just be handing me back that much bigger of a stack for my work.” He shrugs then folds his forelegs in front of his chest. “But, let me in and I’ll not only work off my debt, but I’ll give a discount on the rest of the work I do while I’m here.”

The older stallion looks at Gearing over his glasses and grins. “How about you try your hoof in the ring?”

Gearing looks at him sideways and points a wing at Swift. “Fighting’s more her thing.”

He pushes his sunglasses back up covering up his glowing eyes as he grins. “You look like you could handle yourself pretty well. I’d love to see what you can do in the ring.”

Gearing looks at him and partially closes an eye as he says coldly, “No you wouldn’t… really.”

The response just makes the older stallion grin even more. “Ohh hoo boy! Now you’ve really got me curious… yes I would.” He looks over his sunglasses at Gearing again, giving him another glimpse at the yellow glow, as he grins. “Really.”

The younger buck shifts uncomfortably then quickly nods towards Gearing. “Yup. Sounds great. In you go.” He kicks the gate with a hind hoof a couple times without looking. “Open up, they’re coming in.” He looks at Gearing. “I’ll take you to the maintenance head.”

Swift’s jaw falls on the ground as her eyes are wide open. She yells out towards the sky as she throws her hooves towards Gearing. “That’s it!? I get threats of death and being hunted down, but he just gets to walk right in, with a personal guide, pretty as you please?”

The guard looks over at her as the gate’s opening up. “You know how to refurbish a generator? How about trouble shooting a buggy spell matrix?”

Swift looks down and to the side as she grinds a hoof into the ground sheepishly. “Well… no.”

“Then shut up. We got plenty of muscle here.” He flexes his forelegs and chest, causing his armor to ripple with the sway of the actions as he grins. “But somepony that knows what the hell they’re doing around a wrench is far harder to come by.”

Gearing trots on by with his head held high, then just looks at her and grins widely as he strikes a mid stride pose for her benefit, with his glittering wings high in the air, before shrugging his shoulders with a chuckle and continuing inside.

As Gearing and the brown buck guard are disappearing into the town, and Swift has already starting wandering down a side street with Pharynx in tow, the unicorn leans over towards the older earth pony and asks, “See something you like?”

The old buck smirks and readjusts his sunglasses. “Maybe. Both of them. Won’t know until I can see them in the ring.” He turns and looks at Gearing as he mutters, “I got to figure out how to get him in the ring though. That one’s made of shadows and secrets… But his eyes… His eyes don’t lie, and neither do mine.”

Gearing follows the guard as he's lead down the dirty street ways that form the walking paths between the makeshift buildings that make up the majority of the town. The town, as far as he can tell, is almost entirely composed of buildings that have been thrown together from scrap. A few seem to have been made from either old delivery wagons or even train cars. To call this a shanty town would be generous, at least by his standards. But, judging by what he’s seen in the wastes thus far, they must be doing pretty okay for themselves here.

The tolls just to get into the place are probably the reason. The little blue pegasus in his head grumps.

Gearing notices that the path continued up at an incline, before reaching a hump and starting to travel back downwards, at a much steeper angle. Gearing looks over at the guardspony he’s following and asks, “What’s the deal with this town? Seems to be made out of scrap, where’d it all come from?”

The buck chuckles. “Well… that’s all part of the local legend...” He looks over at Gearing and sees the blank faced expression and lets out a sigh. “Right. New guy… Well, according to local legend, the town formed up around a crater from a balefire bomb.”

Gearing’s eyes go wide then he double checks his PipBuck. “Shouldn't it still be irradiated then?”

The buck shakes his head. “The bomb was a dud. Or something. Either way, it didn’t detonate and when it hit, it just left an impact zone…” He looks at Gearing and smirks. “Also, according to the story passed on, a group of Steel Rangers that were stationed here, dismantled the bomb, pulled out the warhead, and took off with it. To get it away from everypony before the thing changed its mind and blew anyway. No one knows where they went. They never came back.”

“How many were here when that happened?” Gearing asks as he looks around at the buildings.

The buck shrugs. “Dunno. A lot by all accounts. They’d been using the Ministry of Technology building and bunker as a refugee center for the local population. If the story’s true, they saved countless lives.”

Gearing looks at him as he tilts his head. “’If’ it’s true? What? You don’t believe it?”

The buck shakes his head. “I don’t know. It’s nice to think about heroes coming to save the day, then roaming off into the sunset. But it just seems a little too... perfect. The survivors foraged around and got more materials to build the rest of the town. Took a lot of time. A lot of folks died of radiation poisoning in the process. But they got it done.” He waves a hoof towards the center of town. “They even turned the impact point into a fight ring where they told tournaments.” He shrugs. “Bit of an homage to the Steel Rangers that most are convinced went off and died to save the town.”

Gearing gives just a ghost of a smile. “I think I like the legend version, as opposed to the possibility that they just abandoned everyone to sickness and death.” He scans his gaze back and forth as he asks, “So what about the Ministry of Wartime Technology bunker?”

The guard points off to the side up the road as he leads the way and comments, “That’s where we’re headed actually. Right over here.”

The guard pushes open a door in the side of one of the apparently few buildings that are mostly intact in this whole town, and not completely cobbled together from salvage. Gearing looks at the faded brass placard near the door that reads Ministry of Wartime Technology Local Distribution Management. He steps into the dimly lit building, with the flickering overhead lights, as he slowly soaks in the view and grumbles to himself as he thinks things through.

The building is full of noise and the tell tale signs of ponies at work. Tools clanking, metals squeaking, small pieces cascading along concrete floors and, of course, colorful blasphemous remarks at screw ups and smashed limbs.

The guard yells out, "Head! Hey! Head! I got somepony to help you out so you’ll stop bitching at me." As an older tan earth pony comes out of the interior maze of equipment, the guard motions with his head towards Gearing. "He needs to work off the toll, Breaker, beyond that it's up to y’all. Let me know if he skips out on the bill." Then he turns and walks out of the building leaving Gearing and the rest of the maintenance personnel to their own devices.

Breaker Bar looks him over and frowns. "Shit. Here I thought he was bringing me somepony to get some real work done around here. Not a busted ass protectapony. I don't have time for this with all these other yaywhoos he keeps bringing me..."

Gearing scowls at him for a moment, making him back up and his eyes widen as he wonders if the busted robotic is about to attack. Gearing shrugs as he realizes that there's no point in getting angry about his pet peeve at the moment, and swallows his pride, even temporarily, as his eye twitches. "I’m not an automaton. Actually..." He grins widely and puffs himself up as he proudly puts a hoof on his chest and puts a near game show host performance in his voice as he says, "I’ve brought a solution to all of your problems!" He points at Breaker Bar as he continues, "Your guard friend has managed to secure one hell of a deal for you! Thanks to his savvy negotiation skills he's convinced me to work for you at a discount! The first of my payment should go to the guards at the front gate to settle my entrance toll. But, I'm sure you have far more you need fixed than what it would take to pay off my debt." He looks around the building, his eyes traveling from one arcano-tech gore nightmare to the next, as he says softly, "Far, far more..."

The older stallion looks him over as he sighs and gives Gearing the distinct impression he’s heard this many times before. “Uh huh… whatcha selling?”

Gearing waves a hoof. “Oh no, nothing like that. I’ve bartered my way into town. I need to work off my toll, so I’m here to negotiate a work trade.”

The stallion looks him over and tilts his head. “Uh huh, you’re not the first to try that. I don’t have time for any more layabouts just trying to sit their time out. Do you even know what in tarnation you’re doing?”

Gearing sits down and puffs up his chest with pride as he points a hoof at himself. “Sir, you have before you a genuine Stable-Tec technician. I’ve had training and education that I’d dare say isn’t even available currently. I’m a rarity! There’s a wealth of information up in this glorious dome that make me indispensable. Even before the war. And, by today’s standards?” He nickers. “I’m a modern marvel. And I’m here to help you.” He tilts his head and leans in with a grin. “Bet you ain’t seen one like me before.”

The stallion waves towards a few workponies and says as he points out the offenders in question, “Those three said the same thing.”

Gearing’s head whips over to look at them for a moment, then gives them a critical eye and stares daggers at them, causing them to shift skittishly then try to find work elsewhere. They weren’t ghouls, and one looked barely old enough to have his mark. He turns to the stallion and taps out some commands on his PipBuck then holds it up for inspection. “Well, do they actually have official Stable-Tec credentials on a PipBuck!?”

The stallion gives it a once over and admits as he’s looking back up at Gearing, “Okay, that’s new for sure… I don’t care as long as you can get the job done. What do you know about Ministry of Wartime Technology terminals?”

Gearing strikes a high-winged pose and taps on his chest. “Well I am a Stable-Tec technician after all… The archano-technologies were generally all the same. Terminals are terminals. Even the hardened varieties. But each area has its own differences. Small details really.” He leans in and winks as he points at the maintenance head for emphasis. “Aaahhhh but the details are what matters. And I can do it, but that level of access isn’t easy.” He leans back a bit as he says a bit softer, “Or cheap… And if you’re wanting me to break into one of those things, it’s going to take far more than just access to the city.”

He sits back and looks at the stallion, stern faced and serious toned. “The Ministry of Wartime Technology was especially one of the problematic ones. Depends on the level of secrecy they wanted, and how high they valued the secrecy of their information over the value of the data itself. They may have protocols in place that will, quite literally, destroy the equipment.” He waves his hooves around. “If it’s high enough and I’m not careful, the entire place could explode around me… I’m not risking myself like that just to have the privilege of trading in town… that ain’t 10 caps worth of work.”

He intentionally leaves out that part of his concern has to do with the side purposes of ‘Distribution Management’ centers. True, they’d mainly been set up as places for locals to go and get aid with their projects, and start the ball rolling, or pick up materials for approved projects. But they were far from the only ministry that used the infrastructure Apple Jack had built to their advantage. Others, he knows for a fact, used the mass volume in transit to screen their own activities. Activities that those unfortunate enough to discover them might not live long afterwards. Unless memory modification was an option. Which it wasn’t always.

Breaker Bar nods and sits down as he brushes a hoof through his mane with a sigh. “I’ve heard of that before. And, I’d agree, I wouldn’t risk my life just for 10 caps either… I ain’t got a lot of money, but we got scrap we might be able to trade.” He leans in and mimics Gearing’s grin as he says, “And I’m just sure a Stable-Tec employee of your caliber could make all kinds of profit from the gizmos you could fix or make with it.”

Gearing pulls out his lists and shows them to the mechanic. “I do need quite a lot of components, so you’re definitely talking my language. But what would you be willing to give me for this?”

The mechanic stands up and smiles. “The M.W.T. bunker is down below. You get us in the system… well… you can have whatever else you want out of there that isn’t part of the systems we need.”

Gearing debates on it for a moment. He’s sure there’s a lot of things in there that could be useful. But there could also be a lot of things on site that, should he give them access, might spell disaster. His typical salesbuck’s grin pops up on his face as he decides on a plan of action that could solve all of his problems.

For the most part.

Gearing stands up as he says, “Well. Before I can really say I’ll take the job... Let me have a look at it. Only a fool would agree to a blind check like that with this much on the line. This thing could be rigged to blow at a stiff wind, in which case I’ll have to decline.”

Breaker stands up and leads the way through the small maze as he says, “Sounds reasonable to me, this way.”

The concrete steps down are quite a bit longer than most would be willing to transverse just for a potential job, but, given the circumstances, the stairs had to go deep enough for the bunker to be effective. And, judging by the internal structure, they had. Though they managed to avoid the test versus a direct balefire strike. Most of the bunker had been converted to space and storage, with other equipment and supplies removed along the line. The room that still bore the sign ‘archives’ above the missing door’s door frame had been converted into bunk space at some point. The records most likely falling victim to the need for kindling. However, in the deepest stretches of it was the control room and other equipment that was safe and undisturbed behind a set of thick metal security gates, doors, and bars.

All of which Breaker Bar is able to get through with a set of keys he produces from his coveralls.

Once down in the control room that had been abandoned for a long time, probably since before the war came to it’s horrendous ending, Gearing begins cautiously looking around for signs of trespass deterrents and other nasty surprises. Whoever had been in here before, had at least knew enough not to mess with anything. Which is a good sign as far as Gearing is concerned.

The maintenance head says from the door, unwilling to enter, “We’ve kept this place locked up to keep anypony from screwing it up. I hope you’re the right one for the job.”

Gearing carefully checks the equipment out and notices a few familiar markings. He checks the systems for points of connection, and finds that the terminals not only seem to be in fully working order, but aren’t actively hostile. He looks over his shoulder at the older stallion in the door and says, “Okay, I’m pretty sure I can actually get working on this without too much of a problem. But I’d really prefer not to have somepony hovering over my shoulder. This is going to be delicate enough work without someone startling me or making me screw up.”

Breaker Bar turns to leave as he’s shutting the door. “No problem there, I got enough problems dealing with the yayhoos upstairs. Come find me if you make any progress with it.”

Gearing continues fiddling with the terminal until the stallion is well out of ear shot. There’s no way he’s going to give them blind access. That could be disastrous. Maybe even hidden weapons that could be used against him. The potential for going back on their deal is very high if that were the case, and the repercussions could be horrible.

He also has a major nagging feeling in his gut. He’s already given up on the thought that this is some kind of magically induced trickery to get him to give away secrets. Hell, if anyone was going to pump him for information, it’d be Sable. But her only interest has been in the actual act of pumping, with practically everything leading to and from that.

Like a sexual Ouroboros.

Though, despite accepting his new reality. The world as a whole. He still has reservations about this. On one hoof it feels like a betrayal. He’s using the very knowledge that they had given him, and trusted him with, to stab them in the back by breaking into their equipment for his own profit. On the other hoof he took his oath to defend Equestria from enemies, both foreign and domestic, and to work towards the betterment of all Equestria very seriously. And there might be something in this old system that would do exactly that. Which would morally absolve him if true.

Tick. Tick. CLICK.

He realizes it’d be better to find out what’s actually in here before continuing with this moral dilemma. It’s impossible to do an accurate risk assessment, when he doesn’t have a good picture of what the stakes are.

Gearing begins his first task with earnest by plugging his PipBuck directly into a terminal port. He can’t help but grin knowing that the very credentials he showed off not long ago will help allow him to entirely bypass most of the security that would have kept most of these ponies out. Especially when his other credentials are factored in. He hopes that his access wasn’t cut out while he was in stasis. It’s a common security protocol to terminate credentials if someone is presumed dead. Keeps someone else from using them. His credentials worked in the stable, but that doesn’t mean the same luck applies to his M.W.T. accounts. They were notorious for being sticklers for access control.

As the system switches over to administration mode, Gearing can’t help but grin as he comments, “Guess they were too busy with the world ending to keep track of one missing stallion…”

The next moment gives Gearing a surprise as the system begins talking to him through the terminal’s speaker, “Good afternoon, Gearing. You’re credentials are now logged into this terminal. Warning. Technician Gearing has not logged into the system in error_max_days exceeded Days. Records indicate the absence was not approved by a supervisor. Technician Gearing must report to the head of Ministry of Wartime Technology for debriefing or risk termination and loss of access privileges, which may hamper work efficiency.”

Gearing sighs and shakes his head as he realizes that not even the end of the world could put a stop to bureaucracy. “Yes. My absence was unavoidable. I intend on making contact as soon as possible.” He pauses a moment then narrows his eyes at the screen as he articulates clearly, “Gearing: On Task.”

There’s a quick code of beeps before it continues, “That would be for the best, Technician Gearing.”

Gearing wonders how much of this system he can get around in without it locking him out. In the hope to buy himself more time he asks, “Who would I need to contact to maintain my status and update my records?”

“You’re direct supervisor is the head of M.W.T., Hammer Head.”

Gearing tilts his head to the side and half squints an eye. “Terminal. It has been over two hundred years since I was at headquarters. Please confirm you have the correct current head of M.W.T..”

“Confirmed.”

Gearing looks at the console and wonders if it’s been simply looking at its own database as it’s obviously been disconnected from the entire network. “And where is he currently?”

“Current location of Head of M.W.T. is: M.W.T. central office, previously known as secondary subhub of Manehattan branch.”

Gearing’s eyes narrow as he asks the next question, “Confirm or deny… Are these records from live feeds?”

“Confirmed.”

Gearing’s eyes go wide as he nearly flops down on his flank in shock. The system would know if it was going from its own database, if that were the case. It would say so. Which leads him to ask, “What are the current life readings at the M.W.T. central office.”

“Life readings as of now are: Minimal.”

This causes a lot of anxiety for Gearing. He knows the name, but not in relation to any of the ministries. Only as a high ranking administrator in Stable-Tec. So something’s not adding up. Worse, live connections work both ways. If anyone’s alive there, they are well aware his credentials have been used to access the local system. He knows how deep in bed Stable-Tec and the Ministry of Wartime Technology had been prewar.

Hell, the leads for both were family! The little blue pegasus in his head screams as it zips around in alarm.

If they backed their actions, they have a lot of malice planned for him. But, then again, they didn’t deactivate his credentials… so maybe Stable-Tec didn’t tell them and they just assumed he went missing while on assignment. He still has a hard time believing that the head of either organization would have known, let alone sanctioned, what had happened to him. It just wasn’t in that family’s character. He knows full well that Apple Jack’s ministry had more than a couple snakes hiding among the decent ponies. A few even tried to have her killed.

The fact that his old Stable-Tec boss’s boss’s boss is still alive is another problem. There were ways of preserving life. He’s proof of that. Cryofreezing. Various arcano-technology. Robobrains.

Ghouls.

Ghouls were another answer… but the system would read those as fully healthy life signs. Wouldn’t they? The little pegasus in his head points out. Gearing is perturbed beyond anything he thought he’d be dealing with since walking out of the stable.

He digs around for various information in the system and finds… very little. After various attempts he asks the system, “I’m aware my current clearance is not the highest grade. There are many more above my pay grade. However, as the only Ministry of Wartime Technology agent on site I must invoke the following request for security reasons: Are there any sensitive files on this system that I do not currently have the clearance to access. Note: I am not asking for access, merely to know the clearance rating of this collection of data drives.”

“Confirmed,” the voice says flatly.

“Understood… Given that. Please confirm or deny, unauthorized access to the data drives may trigger security protocols to prevent access.”

“Confirmed.”

“Please define protocol of highest response capable at this installation.”

“Flash burn: Should this protocol be enacted, a gas will be released inside and around the surrounding area, then ignited. The resulting flash fire would destroy all organic matter in an instant as the temperatures reach over 3,000 degrees. Equipment, installation, and surrounding area would be completely destroyed by the subsequent explosion.”

Gearing rubs his face into the back of his free foreleg. “Damn it, why do I have to be so good and so right all of the time?”

“Error: Query matches no known results. Please rephrase.”

Gearing shakes his head. “Please list all information I may access with my current credentials.”

The screen fills up with a variety of information on it neatly organized in various hierarchies then begins looping the headings on his screen.

“Confirm or deny, will any of these results trigger the highest grade response if they are accessed by somecreature without at least my level of clearance?”

“Denied.”

“Will any trigger a potential hazard if accessed by those without proper access?”

“Confirmed: One possibility.”

“Define.”

“This terminal controls the local civil defense system. Should unauthorized individuals gain access to it they would have the power to turn the weapon systems on the occupants.”

“Well, that would be problematic…” Gearing snorts.

“Confirmed.”

“Am I able to create sub user accounts on the local system such that they would have a clearance level below mine, but have access to the information that I’m able to see and choose for them to have access?”

“The civil defense system allows you, as a Ministry of Wartime Technology agent, to appoint two users so that should one perish, the other may still control and defend the city.”

Gearing nods and smiles as he realizes he just found one hell of a bargaining chip. “Understood.” He decides not to waste a perfectly good live connection, and uses the system’s terminal to start accessing the remote database’s files. He keeps looking over his shoulder and rotating his ears to listen around himself as he performs this bit of unauthorized data retrieval. If nothing else comes from this deal, he’s going to get some answers. Ones he really won’t want to know, but needs to know to figure out what to do next. He bulk downloads what reports are available to him, since the point he’d disappeared, and takes extra care to make sure to grab the precious few that had been made around and shortly after the bombs fell. He needs to know what happened. For his own sanity if nothing else. There will be plenty of time to go over it all later. After he finishes transferring the files to his PipBuck, he snoops through the local system some more, carefully going through the files to see if there’s any dirty secrets or other problems that he doesn’t want them to have access to. During his spelunking, he comes across a list of stables in the area. Inside he finds a reference to Stable 68, and he gets a cold chill as he realizes the implications. He opens the file and quickly finds… absolutely everything anyone would need to knock on the stable’s front door. Exact location, coordinates, and even explains how it’s under the service station.

He can’t let this get out, for a variety of reasons.

He quickly alters the file in as an official and specific manner as he can with excruciating details like he was required to do with all of his after action reports. He explains that he discovered the stable completely destroyed. That somewhere along the line the stable had been afflicted by an unknown pathogen that drove the occupants mad. He explains how he discovered, later, that the disease in question was most likely currently referred to as ‘Raider Disease’ as all the evidence he was able to scrape together had to do with the ponies turning cannibalistic. He goes into details about how the reactor had, due to lack of living occupants to maintain it, blew. What wasn’t completely destroyed, was tainted with radiation, and biohazards. He even surmises that the only reason he survived the encounter at all was that his body renders him immune to such hazards. But there were even dangers for him. He recommends marking the stable as a total loss, off limits, and giving the entire area a wide and respectable distance. The escaped radiation had tainted the surrounding area and there was a variety of vicious deadly creatures in it’s immediate vicinity. He signs it as himself, with his full title, and updates the file.

After performing this bit of forgery, he duplicates the file. One copy he moves to a different area within the computer. The other he sabotages the log function, making sure that the file will never be updated and corrected by the M.W.T. via a remote auto-update function. Any changes they perform will be applied to the original file that he stowed away in a different subfolder. In this way, they might discover his subterfuge, but even if they change it back, they won’t know the other file, the ‘public’ file, is still doctored.

Next he sets the security level of it to the highest he possibly can and encrypts it. Once that’s finished, he makes sure it stays hidden unless a person has at least his clearance level. Not including people with exceptional skill in bypassing the security, that’s another monster entirely. He knows how to do that. He could even try that as well here himself. But in a risk reward analysis, he deems this scale is permanently tilted in the ‘fuck that’ category. He realizes that anyone with a higher clearance would be able to find it with little trouble, but, then again, they’d probably already know about it anyway. His goal is to keep any new threats from forming.

Gearing wraps up by creating the two accounts and giving them access that’s just below his own. He’ll always have a backdoor that way. Regardless of what anyone in Megamac says and tries. It’s a nice insurance policy. Then, after making sure the new accounts can’t see the information on Stable 68, he logs out of the system and trots off upstairs happily.

He is a bit confused, and more than a little wary, as he opens the door to the main floor. The room’s quiet. Practically dead. The only noise is the hum of some of the equipment that’s still functioning despite what somepony’s done to the poor things. But there’s not a soul in sight. He’ll be damned if he’s going to go through all of this and not get his pay. He needs that equipment. So he heads off in search of the head repairpony, Breaker Bar.

Footnote: Internal component 02 not responding. . .

Internal component 03 not responding. . .

Internal component 04 not responding. . .

This chapter marks the first real point of contention I had with the timeline that I'd mentioned previously. But, over all, things are working out pretty well, and I think it's sorted out, for the most part. New characters and mysteries unveiled, along with some more commonly known being referenced. Finally starting to get into the 'weaving into the background' parts of the story I've been wanting to for so long.

Again thanks to everyone that's helped me out with all of this along the way. And especially to Kkat and Somber for their amazing stories that have inspired this whole train.

As always, comments, questions, and critiques welcome and encouraged!

-Quillsy