The night had gone without too much excitement. A few of the gangger mares actually got on stage while I performed. The ones too drunk to know what they're doing I shoved off, but one who was actually trying to upstage me I then decided to mess with. The dumb bitch didn’t think I would give her a sudden lesson in proper pole dancing. That put her backend on display before giving her a long kiss and a flank bump off stage. She had melded back into the crowd to hide her face, making me feel a little sorry, but I knew that, after that, the mare got the point and stopped fucking with the stage. One very stallion did try, but backed down when I made it clear that I’d crack his nuts if he continued.

Keeping an eye on the stable ponies while I was on stage, Slowtrot had taken a seat at the poker table after being given some caps. Harp was placed behind the bar. Both positions were relatively safe, though I thought Waterspout would have placed them in the back to take care of the more menial work that needed to be done. Still, the boss upheld his end of the deal, so I stayed on stage as long as I could in order to keep the rowdy gaggers entertained with several performances.

Rusty would later take over. As she was known for, she actually let ponies onto the stage with her for a more on hooves show, but now that I was back to doing bouncer work, I made sure things didn’t get too out of control.

Not long after, some of the staff would finally return from the mayor's dance. Everypony was able to take a proper break. After taking home an overworked Bronze Chain and returning to make sure Rusty didn’t go for overtime. I let the stable ponies crash at my place. Prism was not all that happy about it, mainly with how we nearly woke up Bridget and Light Step late into the night. I promised her that they were just staying for tonight, so she lent out a spare blanket.

It wasn't until a few hours before noon the next day that they began to stir. It took them almost a half hour before they actually got up. The two seemed a bit lost before remembering where they were. Passing them some distilled water, their stomachs grumbled as they guzzled the clean water down.

“If you want, you can join me for brunch,” I offered. “I’m getting together with my friends. I know they’re curious about you two.” I told them.

“That would be nice, but aren't you low on caps?” Harp reminded.

I just shrugged. “It’s not an everyday thing. There's a cart along the outskirts that is relatively cheap. He’s a creepy fuck, but he keeps everything out in the open, so you know at least what you’re eating.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Slowtrot concurred, as he pulled out a little bag of caps. “Here. I’ll pay for your portion as thanks.”

“You sure about that?” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you need those caps?”

He shrugged this time. “Ya, but I’m not in a rush. I’m already over two hundred years late getting back home, so what’s a few extra days?”

“It might be better If I take my time as well. Get used to the wasteland before I leave town,” Harp added.

The two turned out surprisingly good at making caps. Slowtrots had luck at cards, convincing others to play more, and bet more caps. Harp possessed an ability to chat ponies up and convince them to buy the more expensive booze we have. Though she did seem uncomfortable with how many ponies kept flirting with her, but I made sure she was safe.

“I could go for a good home style hayburger.” Slowtrot proposed as his stomach grumbled again. “They still have hayburgers, right?”

I thought about it, then nodded. “Ya. The cart sells burgers,” I told him.

…

I watched the color drain from Slowtrot’s face since he, only now, remembered that stable ponies didn’t eat meat. The food cart had a selection of some root vegetables, lots of dried meats hanging off the side of the cart, and some food cooking on a nearby portable barbecue grill. The stallion running the cart was strangely thin, even though I always saw him eating something. This gave every creature the most creepy vibes about him. On the other hoof, he had a cheery and chubby wife and several foals helping out the cart.

“What will it be?” the chef asked, his clothes more just hung on him then him wearing them.

“The stallion would like a hayburger, the stripy mare will have your breakfast combo, and I’ll have the cart special with a side of roasted corn cob for each of us.” I told him.

“Right. It’s a bit late for the combo. The burgers take time to bake the bread, but I can get the special out for you shortly,” he explained.

“That’s fine. We’re going to be hanging out here for a bit,” I replied as I passed him the caps.

We trotted over to an old picnic table. It had a worn-out blue tarp draped over it to hide all the expletive riddled graffiti and carvings it had. Bronze Cain, Rusty Cleaver, and Cloudy Sunrise were all already there waiting for us as they ate their brunch. Rusty had already dug in and finished her food. My other two friends were being a bit pickier.

“It’s been eleven years and I’m still not used to how much meat you ponies eat down here,” Cloudy complained as she took a small bite from her geco and eggs.

“When there's almost only blote sprites to eat, you learn to love to eat radroaches.” Bronze gave a nervous chuckle as she spoke. Her plate was barely touched, which had roasted roch legs and what was likely over two hundred year old carrots.

“Eh, my family found whatever slop they could eat. Can't be picky when you're always starving.” Rusty licked her bole. “Hey Star, sorry for always pushing Light Step on you like that.”

The three of us took our seats. An older colt placed a cup of water for each of us. It had little specks floating about in it. Both Harp and Slowtrot gave me a concerned look.

“Don’t worry,” I replied to their concerned looks. “It’s safe, mostly. It’s filtered water. Just don’t ask about what they used to filter it.” I turned to Rust. “Don’t worry about it. I love having her over since she’s such a sweetie. I just hate to see her sad when she misses her mother.”

"I guess I've been a bit too focused on making caps lately. I just saw this adorable dress that I know she'd love, so I just have to get it for her." Rusty gushed.

I face hoofed. "Have you tried sewing, Rusty? You can make a dress like it, and it would cost far less caps. And don't tell me you don't know how to sew, If you can stitch up a stab wound like a pro, you can put two pieces of cloth together." I then turned to Bronze. "Did you sleep well?"

A long yawn told me no. "Better than normally." Well, that was good news. "Copper woke me up and trotted me to school."

"You mean you trotted him to school?" I asked. Bronze just gave me a shrug. "Well, baby steps in the right direction is still the right direction."

"So what about you Cloudy?" Harp spoke up. "You have a foal as well?"

There was a pause before Cloudy blushed. "What? No, no, no. I mean it would be difficult to do my job if I did, and… well… I would rather not talk about it.”

Now Harp blushed. "Oh, sorry. I mean, sorry. I just thought it was common out here for young mares to have a foal. I mean, most of the mares I've met so far are all mothers themselves."

Cloudy sighed, then chuckled a little. "Tell me about it. Before the enclave fell, there was a strict population control, so I was a bit shocked seeing families with three to six foals all over the place. I recently saw an old friend from the clouds. At nineteen years old, she was already on her second foal."

"Well, still, I’m sorry for assuming," Harp apologized

"It’s an honest mistake. I mean, I have been hanging around with Rusty and Star for long enough for ponies to assume but I don't plan on having foals anytime soon. Not until I've found the right pony." Cloudy then gave Harp a sly look. The kind look one gives when digging for any juicy gossip. "What about you, Harp? Any special somepony? I bet there's a lot of stallions that miss a cute mare like you."

"What? No. No stallions. My mother would not permit any unions with a stallion until I was married, and even then he would need to be vetted for purity, but I was allowed relations with other mares so long as they were of high standing." Harp explained as she nervously tapped at her hooves. "There was this mare I did get a little close too. She was an outsider called Light Turbulence. She saved me when her vertibuck crashed onto my Island."

"Oh, that's a very pegasus name, and a crashed vertibuck? Don't tell me she's Enclave?" Cloudy teased Harp.

Harp nodded. "Ya. She was part of an expedition team form New Cloudsdale. From how she explained it, the cloud city sounded magnificent. I do hope she was successful in helping her city."

I looked over at Cloudy who had gone slack-jawed, so I asked her "Is everything okay, Cloudy?"

She shut her mouth and took a deep breath. "Sorry. Last time I heard about New Cloudsdale was when some of the Enclave’s political puppets and military leaders used the city to run away after operation cauterize dramatically failed. From what I know, it was one of the few cities that could still hold itself up without the cloud layer as support. A lot of pegasi might not have had to die if the city had stuck around to provide shelter and protection."

"Right. I remember hearing about that," I chimed in. "When I first came to the mainland, Mom and I came across a large group of pegasi refugees. Their town literally fell out of the sky when the clouds opened up. Later we had several former Enclave soldiers pass through Bold Harber. Complaints about their missing city weren’t uncommon."

"New Cloudsdale . . . what happened to Cloudsdale? I thought the Enclave was just a political party. When did they get a military?" Slowtrot asked, which made Cloudy cringe.

"The Zebras blew it up, along with most of the major and minor cities in Equestria. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on who you ask, the Enclave was the only pegasus political party not to be based in Cloudsdale. So, when Cloudsdale fell, they took power."

Slowtrot looked shocked for a long moment. "That's terrible.”

“But, then again, I was already told about that. I guess it still hasn't quite sunk in yet." He then spent another moment quiet, then said, "I bet Ministry Mare Rainbow Dash regrets keeping the Enclave out of Cloudsdale now."

"What?" This time Cloudy looked shocked. "What do you mean?"

"Right. If I remember correctly, the Enclave were the pegasus biggest anti-war party as well as the biggest pegasus independence party," he explained. "It was weird, as they had the support of other anti-war groups, but butted heads with them at the same time. So, when Rainbow Dash started marginalizing them, none of the other anti-war groups cared. The Enclave was very unpopular back west, and we had the most anti-war groups in Equestria."

"That explains the Enclave’s irrational hatred for Rainbow Dash," Cloudy said with a sigh.

Our food showed up. Slowtrot’s hayburger was served in between a freshly baked bun with some ancient looking hay on top of a mole rat patty with a side of fried radroach legs. Harps breakfast combo was two thick tato pancakes with a side molerat sausages and topped with mute fruit jam. My cart special was a bow of canned diced tomato, canned carrots, and gecko meat which was flavored with a sauce made from radscorpion guts. I immediately dug in.

"Wait! Those are cockroach legs?" Slowtrot asked as he pointed at his fried radroach legs. Everypony, Harp included, nodded. "By Celestia! If they’re that big, we’re all doomed." Most of us started laughing, which seemed to put Slowtrot a bit at ease.

The cart special was not all that "special", but it was cheap and very filling. It has become my favorite dish over the last two weeks.

Harp started on her pancakes. She was finding them a bit off-tasting, but then anything made with tatos was not going to taste all that great.

Slowtrot, on the other hoof, got into a staring contest with his burger. In the end, hunger won out. After the first bite, he became more willing to take another.

Cloudy slowly finished off her food as she talked with Harp.

Bronze required a bit of coaching by me, mainly threats for me to feed her myself like a foal. I was not letting her get any thinner than she already was.

We chatted, mainly on little things in the wasteland, such as what not to do, how to spot a raider from far away, and to avoid drinking any random water since, even though the radiation had cleared up, most of the groundwater was still toxic with non magical pollutants. Harp brought up similar problems on the Marewaii Islands along with radiation still being a real problem there. This, of course, turned the conversation to Harps home.

"So this Orthrus is what the R&D Stable became? It's good to know that they survived and managed to help other ponies," Slowtrot said with a sigh. "They honestly want to make the world a better place. I wonder what they could have done if the world was not at war."

"Ya. Without them, so many foals would never have been born, and it's actually a miracle that they were able to make mirage ponies," Harp explained. "Without the mirage pony treatment, most of the metro would be dead, and so much technology would have been left to decay."

"How so?" Cloudy asked.

"Well other than countering much of the genetic damage most ponies suffered from, Mirage ponies somehow came out as our own tribe with our own form of magic," Harp also explained. "It's nothing like what normal ponies can do, and It's rather useless on its own." I watched Harp as she began to… shimmer. Something was coming off her like heat coming off a broken road on a hot day.

Harp continued. "It's why we're called mirage ponies, as from a distance, we look like one."

Slowtrot reached out to touch the shimmering Harp, but immediately pulled back like she was a hot flame. He had only touched her for less than a second, but I think he flickered like he was just not there for less than a second. I just rubbed my eyes, as I probably just needed more sleep since I was clearly seeing things.

"My kind can draw in magic from our surroundings and store it into ourselves." Harp further explained. "When we hit our limit, we shimmer. We can also send this magic out into other things, such as a gem, another pony, or into spark batteries. Because of this ability, we were able to keep powering the old tech that would have fallen silent over a hundred years ago."

"Wow! That sounds like a whole lot of ya could power a town. No need for radiation engines and shit." Bronze uncharacteristically chimed in, but her comment seemed to make Harp… uncomfortable.

"Ya, that's true, but the less said about it the better," Harp replied.

It took a moment, but I think everypony understood that something about mirage ponies powering a town must be a sore topic for Harp. If a task was simple but required a lot of hooves to do it, then somepony, somewhere, made a bunch of slaves do it. If power generation could be made just as easily, then it would follow that slaves would be put to work.

Truthfully, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more I understood why Harp may not want to talk about it.

I then remembered about Hardballers issues with obtaining spark batteries. The old buzzard had a whole lot of drained batteries. No doubt he'd pay to have them recharged.

"You said you can charge a spark battery, right?" I asked Harp as an idea started to form in my head.

Harp nodded. "Yes, as long as it’s undamaged, otherwise I would just be drawing in its radiation into myself as I push magic through it, likely giving myself radiation sickness. It's what most mirage pony foals are told not to do, as we can easily kill ourselves if we're not careful."

A grin then formed on my face. "You know what? I think I know how you can earn a lot of caps in a really short amount of time."

Harp first raised an eyebrow at me, but quickly seemed to understand what I might be suggesting.

"Just come with me after we're done here," I requested. She slowly nodded, obviously on the cautious side, but was still a mare in need of caps.

I then looked over at the seemingly clueless Slowtrot, not sure what to do with him, but I had a feeling he'd get in trouble if I left him on his own, so I said, "You too, Slowtrot. Hardballer was curious about that pistol of yours. We might as well let him take a look at it."

In response, he just shrugged and agreed.

Our time at the food cart went for another half hour. It felt longer, but both Harp and Slowtrot had clocks on their pipbuck, so half an hour it was. The conversation ended up mostly a Q&A about how life was in the Marewaii Metro for Harp as well as learning that, to her, we were quite underdressed over in Marewaii, the ponies commonly wore clothes front and back. It did answer why she wore underwear when not only did almost all ponies didn't bother, but it was also seen as erotic for a pony to have on.

I don't know why, but the fact she does have panties on makes me want to flip her skirt.

With the chat dying down, we all went on our own ways. Bronze and Rusty had a part-time job sorting through rocks for the quarries. I took the two not-stable ponies through the shantytown, Harp kept composed, but Slowtrot seemed to get more and more worried with the more destitute ponies he saw. Eventually we made it to the Gunrunner's compound. Once we were there, it was Harps turn to look worried.

"Don't worry,” I reassured Harp. “The griffon that runs this place is my daughter's Grandfather. He will come off as a gruff buzzard, but in truth, he is the biggest softey I know… just don't tell nopony I said that."

They both nodded, seemingly more at ease.

Entering, we unseeingly found Longslide at the reception desk. He was messing with some grid paper, though this time there was a female griffin in a very dirty jumpsuit with him. Her barral being notably round due to being seven months pregnant.

"Ahoy, Gyrojet. Rare to see you upfront?"

The griffon mare gave me an exasperated sigh. "Hey Star. Just making sure my husband here does not forget he has a family. Still don't know why he thinks that manacle monster is so important."

"It's a Light Strike Vehicle. If I can get it working properly, then we can easily move our products to buyers," Longslide said with a huff as he put his grid paper down. "I promise, once I figure this out, I'll spend more time with the kids." He turned towards me, looking less than happy to see me. "Now, what's with the guests, Star?"

I smiled good and wide as I replied, "Let’s just say I have the solution to one of Hardballer’s biggest problems, though it's best if we talk with him in private."

"Star, you know the rules about not letting outsiders into the compound. I still don't know why we even let you in at all." Longslide sternly pointed out.

"Oh, come on, Longslide. It ain't going to hurt nopony if these ponies are let in. They got no contacts in the wastes, and they both got something your father wants," I explained.

The pony griff took a moment to think, tapping his desk with a talon. "Alright, but if they do anything that threatens our business, not only are they banned, but you are too."

I took a deep breath, knowing that he was serious. "Alright, so where's the old buzzard?"

"In the machine shop, finishing an order of service rifles for the NCR," he informed me.

"That's perfect," as all I said before leading the other two ponies passed the reception desk. Entering the courtyard of the Gunrunner's compound, I could hear the machine shop at work. The sound already drowned out the sound of the wasteland. Near the door of the machine shop was a locker with several goggles and ear protection inside.

Passing the other two the protective gear, Harp looked back at me a bit concerned as she asked, "What is this place?"

"Right. I forgot to explain. So . . . these griffins are the Gunrunners. They’re like the Talons, but more an actual clan rather than a loose coalition. They mainly make guns. They shoot them only when necessary. If you ever see a griffin mercenary with a kick-ass gun, it's more than likely that the gunrunner's made that gun," I explained before putting my eye and ear protection on.

Upon entering, there were several griffons at work. Some at benches with brass hammers and screwdrivers, carefully tinkering on their rifles. Others were at several large machines. One of the machines was for making rifle barrels while another was a mechanical hammer. Their most prized machine was an industrial belt sander. Hardballer was at the belt sander, carefully grinding down parts to exact specification to what they needed.

As we watched them work, the power in the room would fluctuate, sputtering sporadically, causing the griffins at the machines to pull back and wait for it all to stabilize. In a roped-off corner, I could see the culprits. Over two dozen spark batteries hooked together, all in fairly good condition, but no doubt drained of most of their magical power. Eventually the power sputtered again, the lights dimmed, and Hardballer gave his machine a frustrated kick before blowing a whistle, causing the other workers at the machines to stop.

"That's enough,” Hardballer growled with resigned frustration. “Any more and we risk breaking the machines. Finish the work with your claw tools." The machine workers gave a collective groan. "Just get to work. We have a deadline, and we better be on time for it."

Trotting up to the old griffon with a bit of a secretive grin, he glanced at me through the corner of his eye as he asked hopefully, "Still no luck with the spark battery problem?"

Ge gave me a little growl. "Who are they, Star?"

I gave him the same smile I gave Longslide. "Well, they’re ponies that fell on the clinic. The Stallion has that .45 auto pistol you wanted to see, and the mare, well . . . she might be able to help you with that big problem you're having."

Hardballer put down the gun part he had into a small box and trotted over to me. "I don't know how some little zony can help me, but I'll see that pistol."

There was a momentary pause before Slowtrot remembered that it was his pistol we were talking about. Passing it over, the old griffon quickly examined it.

"Now this is rare,” Hardballer began in an admiring tone. “The only models that survived the war were the Celestia doctrine military pistols, but this is a custom civilian pistol from the Luna doctrine era too. It even has an early pony gunsmith stamp.”

“What's your name?” Hardballer asked Slowtrot with fascination, “and where did you get this collector’s item?"

"Names Slowtrot, and the Checof’s Promise was lent out to me by an old pony named Musket Ball," Slowtrot answered.

There was a pause from Hardballer before he said, "Odd. In the old blueprints, the name Musket Ball pops up for a lot of the pony conversions for griffin made guns, so how has this gun managed to stay in such good condition for so long?"

Slowtrot looked confused for a moment, then tapped at his pipbuck. "Let me check. Right. Gun maintenance and basic assembly." He then lifted his pipbuck to Hardballer. "Outside the production of ammo and parts, I know almost nothing about guns, but Musket Ball left me a lot of instructions on the matter."

Hardballer paused again, then he began tapping at Slowtrot's pipbuck. His eyes grew wide after a moment as he declared in astonishment "This is a blueprint for a C.M.B.R., the Celestia Markspony Battle Rifle! The blueprints for this were thought lost, and only photos of the rifle were left!"

I cocked an eyebrow. "A battle rifle? I don't see how that's special. There's a metric shit ton of them out west."

Hardballer rolled his eyes at me. "So I've heard, but those are going to be the mass-produced battle rifles made for basic infantry, used before the Luna war doctrine went into full effect. They lacked precision and rage in favor of durability. The CMBR is practically a sniper rifle and was used by the royal guard up to the end of the war. I know a few rangers who would pay their weight in caps for a rifle like this."

I then whistled. "Looks like it was a good idea to bring along Slowtrot." I noted, then motioned for Harp to step up. "But that's just good luck. Now Harp here might be able to solve your power problem."

This got Hardballer's full attention. "So she knows where to get some good spark batteries, I presume?"

"Well no, but I can do something… similar." Harp said hesitantly. "It's better if I show you. So, could you turn on one of the machines?"

Hardballer looked skeptical, but complied. He trotted over to the belt sander and flipped a switch. The machine turned on which resulted in the belt moving It's speed quickly became irregular. It slowed down before speeding up. Harp trotted over to the machine, and placed her hoof on it. Soon after, the belt sander stopped slowing down. After that, it picked up speed. There was a clunk as the machine went faster and faster. It vibrated so much that I could feel it from where I stood. Harp then took her hoof off it and backed away. The machine slowed down, returning to its irregular speed.

"I can provide magical energy to any device that relies on it to work," Harp said, then looked at the corner with the spark batteries. "But more importantly, I can recharge those batteries."

Now Hardballer looked stunned. It took him a moment before bringing a talon to his beak, tapping it gently. "Well, color me impressed. If this is true, then we might be able to meet our deadline far ahead of schedule. We’d even be able to make some new products to sell on top of that. How soon can you start?"

Harp paused for a moment as she considered this carefully before answering, "It depends. What guarantee is there that I will get paid? My last employer was quite stingy with that."

I watched as a smile formed on the edge of Hardballers beak. "Now I don't pull this out for non-griffins, but if you can help speed up operations, then I might as well make an exception." With a quick and sharp whistle, he gained one of the other griffin’s attention. "Go get a binding contract… make it two!" Hardballer turned back to us as he explained, “I'm in the possession of several magically binding contracts, the kind the Talons used to ensure loyalty to the contract holder. I like to use them to ensure the secrecy of some of our gun manufacturing, but I can use them to ensure that you will get your pay. Will that work?"

"So like a fealty contract. It's a bit extreme, don't you think?" Harp asked, looking clearly concerned.

"If operations were running smoothly, then yes, but as you can see, without power, we are forced to make our guns by claw, which will slow production to a crawl," Hardballer explained. "If things continue like this, we might have to pack up and return to Fillydelphia within the year, losing us any advantage of having a compound on the wasteland frontier. Also, I want to wipe that smug grin off Ashy’s face."

“I see. So you're willing to put a spell on yourself to save your business. I guess I can kind of understand that,” Harp commented.

Slowtrot stepped in, looking a bit lost. “Sorry, but what's the need for having a gun manufacturing… shop I guess. Sorry. I’m used to assembly lines. But why on the frontier? Wouldn't being near a city be more useful?” he checked.

I gave Hardballer a knowing look, letting him know that I’ll answer that question. When Hardballer nods in approval, I then explain, “The wasteland is a dangerous place, Slowtrot. Raiders, monsters, or even desperate ponies who feel it’s less of a risk to rob a pony than to trust them. If you don’t have a gun, then you're an easy target for that and more. Having a gunsmithery on the edge of civilization means that there will always be ponies in need of your skills.”

“Also,” Hardballer cut in. “if this town is successful, then we will be here for every expansion and population boom. Ashy is not immortal. Eventually the old grudges such ponies have from Redeye’s time will fade, and the Gunrunners will still be here doing their job. We just need to last long enough for the winds to change.”

A laugh came from Harp. “Right. I get it. It’s not like you don’t have competition.” This got Hardballer to look at Harp with concern. “Sorry, sir. It’s just that, back home, there are a few small gun manufacturers that would kill to have an open space like this. The air rifles I have were made by one of those gunsmiths. Then there's Ironshod, who still throws their weight around even after two hundred years.” Her pipbuck then lights up with a magical overglow, pulling out a compact revolver from her jacket. “This revolver is made by a group called Orthrus. They’re peacekeepers, not a manufacturer, but if they can get to the mainland. They will bring all the corporations and small businesses with them.”

Hardballer snatched the revolver from Harp’s pipbucks hold, giving it the same attention as he did with the .45 auto. “Wait! Is this a police pistol? But it’s clearly a different model. It’s obviously made to easily be hidden, but too sturdy to have lost its power.” He then passed the revolver back. “Sorry. This is becoming a bit overwhelming to my old bones. Normally it’s generations before we see a gun thought lost, or a model we never knew existed. But, if what you say is true, then it’s even more important that we establish ourselves here.”

“Also, those other guns you mentioned, the air rifles, I would also like to see them and anything else you might have. I will add them to the contract and pay you accordingly for the opportunity to make blueprints of them, even if we don’t have the caps currently.”

There was another pause. Harp was clearly thinking hard about it before answering, “Alright,” Harp relented. “I’ll charge your batteries, let you look over my weapons, and I get properly compensated, but we need to go over the details as I start.”

A nod came from Hardballer. “More than fair.” He turned his attention to Slowtrot as he asked him, “And you, Mister Slowtrot?”

The stallion just shrugged. “Well, every bit counts. If you want to pay for access to my pipbuck information, that’s fine with me, though I’d rather have a proper job too.”

I trotted up to Hardballer, nudging him on the shoulder as I proposed, “How about having him work the ammo press? You have been looking for some pony to work it for ten hours a day.” Looking over at Slowtrot, I gave him a slight smile. “What do you know about loading and pressing ammo, Slowtrot?”

“I did work in a munitions assembly for a season before they replaced the process with robots. Aside from making sure the gunpowder levels were right, I found it more an issue of staying awake than anything,” he replied.

Hardballer sighed. “That is true. Working the bullet press is used to be more as a punishment rather than work. If your willing to do it, I can pay you for the work.” A younger griffin trotted back into the workshop while holding two impossibly clean sheets of paper. Clearly these were the magical contracts. Hardballer pointed over at a small desk, of which the other griffin trotted to.

“Alright,” Hardballer begin. “We can go over the details about payment in a bit. My apprentice will explain to you about how the magic works,” he informed them then turned to talk to me.

“Fantastic luck, don’t you think?” I exclaimed questioningly.

He nodded, then pointed over at a clock. It was well past noon. “It’s almost time for Bridget to get out of school,” he informed me, then pointed to a nearby locker. “Javelina made a gun for her, so maybe take her out practice shooting before coming over tonight. Let me get these two ponies situated first.”

“You're quite the softy, you know that?” I said to the old griffin.

He just shook his head. “Ya, but don’t tell nopony that. I got a reputation to uphold.”

We shared a laugh before he went to join the other two. Meanwhile, I trotted over to the locker. I found a silenced .22 pistol inside with two loaded magazines of ammo. The gun was light and easy to use. Most importantly, it was quiet, perfect for Bridget to practice with.

Taking the gun, I left the workshop. The tinkering of griffins slowly became quiet as I proceeded away. Inside the reception room, Longslide was still here, but Gyrojet had left. There was now a green unicorn mare in the room. She look the same as yesterday with the cybernetic back legs. It was none of my business, so I passed them by on my way out of the compound. I’m off to see my lovely little filly.