The smell of the Stable-Tec burnt ruins was thick in the air. It was a mix of burning tar and, oddly, cooked cram. We just stood there, looking at it, unsure what to do next. That place was supposed to have the critical parts we needed, and it was gone. What we did get was several severe burns, a bad cough, my groceries, and a box of knives.

The sound of rustling from the ruins caught our attention. Because of it, we drew our guns. What then popped out was the glowing ghoul who was covered in dust, but looking no worse for wear. "Damn zebs! They must have rigged the factory to blow. Did you all get out alright?"

I sighed as I put my gun down. "We're fine, but the factory's loss is a big blow. We're going to need to find the parts elsewhere."

"Doubt we have the time or ammunition. We should just head back," a dejected Longslide suggested.

"Parts, you say?" The ghoul slid down the rubble and looked around, his eyes stopping at the three buildings off to the side. "Well, there should be spares over in the storage warehouse," he said as he pointed at one of the three buildings.

Longslide perked up. "Would there be Griffonstone Mechanics parts there?" he asked.

The ghoul scratched his chin, then nodded. "I see. You must be an inspector. Yes, as regulations dictate, we do keep replacements for your companies machines on hoof."

Opening up his wings, Longslide jumped over to the ghoul, though still keeping some distance. "Show me! It's important that I look through them."

With hope restored, I turned to my companions who were still recovering from their near-death experience.

Slowtrot was doing… okay. A dragon ant got him in the plot, and he was currently sticking it in the air to cool off his backside.

Harp, on the other hoof, had avoided the fire but seemed to have taken in more radiation than the rest of us. It was nothing severe, but she was clearly weakend, and would need to see a doctor before or risk the damage becoming permanent.

I, myself, was doing the best out of the three of us. Although I had burnt myself a few times, I had already recovered, but the grumbling from my stomach told me that I needed to eat. Not soon, but getting into another fight would be a really bad idea.

"So what happened, Harp? You were in there just as long as us." I noticed.

She groaned, further showing how ill she felt. "Panicked charged a few times. Tring to keep the air pressure in my gun high and forgot about the radiation." She shivered for a moment. "I might need to rest for a bit before we go back."

"Same," Slowtrot added. "Sitting down right now is not going to be fun."

"You both do that. You earned a break," I told them.

Turning to see that Longslide and the ghoul, they were already at the first building. I quickly trotted over to see what they found. The ancient rusty doors whined loudly as they opened. Once I got closer, I peeked in. Personally, I still didn't know what I was looking at. Most of it was just sealed in boxes and some oversized motor wagon. All of it was half-buried in rubble and gunk. It looked like the roof had collapsed long ago. The ants used it to throw away their trash.

Even though it looked like a wreck, Longslide quickly jumped in, heading straight towards the trapped vehicle.

"This is a Burro Industry tractor! This thing can move several tons!" He squawked excitedly.

"Cool, but how do we get it out, and what about the machine parts?" I pointed out.

The ghoul gave out a long sigh as he said, "Even more zebra tampering. Unfortunately, we kept the Griffonstone parts in the back, so you will need to have them dugout."

"And the other two buildings?" I checked.

"Let’s see,” the ghoul paused in thought. “One should be mostly empty. It had all the maintenance supplies for a stable that was just completed, and the transport crew came for it yesterday. The other was used for storing noncritical parts for spark reactors," He explained.

So, with that, hope had been dashed, mostly.

"Longslide, lets head back to the Smuggler and brainstorm how we might recover those parts," I told the hippogriff. He sighed as he left the tractor.

As we trotted back, there was a distant, constant roar which ever so slightly got louder. Sharing a glance with Longslide, he flew up into the air as I galloped to the Smuggler. I jumped up into the gunner nest. Looking along the horizon, I saw a dust cloud heading our way. Peering through the scope of the Bozar, I saw what looked like… ponies on small motor wagons. It was hard to make out, but as they got closer, I could see the distinct black vests of the Desperados.

"So… how much ammo did you say we had again?" I called out to Longslide.

He landed on top of the Smuggler then checked his gun. "Not enough for a drawn-out fight," he eventually answered.

I looked down at Harp. She clearly needed more time to recover.

"Could you get us back to New Appleloosa, or at least close?" I asked Harp hopefully.

She shook her head as she said, "Not unless you give me an hour to rest, then maybe. What's heading our way?"

"Trouble, so be ready for a fight," I warned her as I got down from the gunner’s nest. "So we can't run, and probably can't fight them all. Now what?" I asked Longslide.

"They're just ponies, right? Maybe we can talk to them?" Slowtrot piped in. I rolled my eyes.

"Actually, that is an option," Longslide said as he jumped into the gunner’s nest with an odd grin on his beak, before looking through the scope. "Just hear me out, Star. The Desperados are not raiders… Well mostly their not raiders. I heard they've been keeping out of trouble, so maybe we can negotiate."

"For what? Not to be raped and disemboweled?" I huffed.

Longslide stood up. He still had a cocky smile on his beak. "Well, I was thinking that we needed extra hooves to dig out the parts, so why not try and make a deal with them?" I face hoofed at the idea… but at least it was a plan.

Waiting for the Desperados to arrive felt longer than it should. With everypony but Longslide positioned at the Smuggler, I returned to the gunner's nest with my rust gun out. The hippogriff stood at the rusty archway of the factory's entrance with his Bozar pointed down in his claws.

As the Desperados got closer, the roar of their motor wagons took over the ambient sound of the wasteland. At this point I could now make out what exactly they were riding. A few of them were in something similar to the Smuggler except for the fact that their vehicle was smaller and rusty. As for the rest, they were on what looked like a small engine on two wheels which was barely big enough to fit two ponies. It made me think that the sparse armor they had on was more for protection from falling rather than from being in a fight. I didn't know why, but I wanted to try and ride whatever it was.

The ganggers slowed down as they got close. One of them parked his two-wheeled motor wagon in front of the others by kicking a little metal stick out and having his wagon rest on it. The pony himself was a big stallion who had no armor on aside from his vest and a painted black metal helmet with a single spike poking out on top. He was also covered in scars and tattoos. The ink depicts flaming wheels, skills, and more of those two-wheeled motor wagons.

"Big balls just standing there ready for a fight. shouldn't you be sucking on ya mamas tit like those ponies over there?" The brute pointed at Harp, Slowtrot, and the ghoul who were hiding behind the Smuggler.

Longslide patted his Bozar, bringing the ganggers attention to it. "Their job is not to fight, so I would prefer you keep them out of this, unless picking on ponies you know you can beat is your style?" he mocked the gangger.

There was a short pause before the gangger glared at Longslide and stomped up to him, getting nose to beak. "Fine, but if ya what to fight, then let's fight."

"You will do no such thing yet!" The voice of an old mare yelled out from within the group of ganggers. The big stallion backed up as a very thin and old mare, who was also covered in tattoos, trotted into view. "This is why Elder Big Papa asked me to come. He knew you would try and pump up that ego of yours and get us in trouble again!"

"But gram gram..." the big stallion stammered.

"Don't gram gram me! This is not route 50. I shouldn't have to remind you of that!" she scolded the stallion before trotting passed him and up to Longslide. "You must be one of them Gunrunners. I'm Burning Asphalt, elder of the Route 50 Desperados. May I know your name?" the old mare even fluttered her eyes as she introduced herself, as though she didn't look ancient and leathery.

"Longslide, son of Hardballer, the boss of the local Gunrunners," he answered, taking a claw off his gun. "If it's not too rude, may I ask why you're here in such force? You had us worried that this was a raiding party."

Burning Asphalt looked back and chuckled before returning her gaze to Longslide. "Oh, you know how youngins are. Big Papa wanted me and my grandson to investigate your vehicle there, and next thing we knew it, the rest of ‘em up and followed us. Can't blame ‘em, with how our employer wants us to stay put. They're getting a little stir crazy."

"You're interested in my Smuggler?" Longslide asked as he put his claw back onto his gun.

She nodded and motioned back at the motor wagons. "As you can see, it's a thing of ours. It's how we keep control of route 50. When your territory stretches from the east coast to west coast, ya can't just do it on hoof. So, when one of our boys saw ya ride out of town, he went to tell big Papa, and now we're here."

There was a brief pause before Longslide spoke, "So you're here. Now what?"

Burning Asphalt smiled. Most of her teeth were either yellow or replaced with gold. "Would you be willing to give up that there auto wagon? We would be grateful, and will be willing to compensate you for it." The other Desperados had a hoof out, ready to pull their guns, making it clear that they were not giving us another option other than to give them the Smuggler.

Longslide looked back at us briefly, then back to the old mare. "Even if I wanted to, I can't give you my Smuggler. We’re doing an important job, one that needs us to return by the end of the day. Maybe we can interest you in something else? I am a Gunrunner, after all."

The mare chuckled, "We got guns, sonny, and anything else you might be able to offer. Well, except for that ‘Smuggler’, as you call it."

There was another pause as they were clearly interested in one thing only, but as I chewed on who I should shoot at first until I saw that Harp and Slowtrot come out from behind the Smuggler and trotted over to the old mare.

"I got to say, the Desperados haven't changed at all. It has been what, two hundred and eleven years, and you're still roving around on those early war motorcycles? How are they even still working?” Slowtrot spoke up.

Burning Asphalt lost the smile, now looking a bit confused. "With lots of love and grease. Now, how do you know about them bikes being from early war?"

"Well, from what I remember, most of the biker gangs were started by early war veterans, mobile squads and couriers I think," Slowtrot explained. "Sorry. I'm not all that well informed about the early war, but there was this scandal about the local biker gang in my area dealing in chems. The Tartarus Angles, if I remember correctly. They got turned into a movie too. That's how I learned about how the biker gangs got started."

The old mare seemed to relax as she studied Slowtrot. "Yes. The Tartarus Angles were an enemy from times before myself, and our founders did fight in the war of endings. Strange how you know this, though being not a ghoul of old."

Slowtrot scratched the back of his head nervously, "Well, I'm from the wartime, just kind of fell through time."

Harp stepped in between the two as she said, "Elder Burning Asphalt, my name is Harp Melody. May I change your mind on the need for guns? I mean, that is if you like only being able to buy from Blue Skies that is?"

Burning Asphalt's demeanor changed again, this time to annoyance, "Another pony knowing more than they should." She said as she spat on the ground. "Alright, then speak up. How can you give us a better deal then our employer?"

"Right, Blue Skies. Trust me when I say this, but you ponies might do well to stay away from that group. I can't really explain it, but their leader is a dangerous pony," Harp explained, getting a laugh from the Desperados.

"Missy, we’re all dangerous ponies," the old mare pointed out.

Harp then sighed. "Ya, that might be the wrong direction I should argue. Then how about I ask you a question; your employer, of which I personally know you are only allowed to sell to by order of the mayor and sheriff, how's the quality of gear you're getting from them and the price you're paying for it?"

Burning Asphalt didn't respond, looking more like she was chewing on how to answer. What Harp had said didn't sound all that surprising, as it wouldn't be the first time that Espresso, or Ashy, had banned a group from doing business in town. The Zebra tribe Angles had gotten bard from town’s business in favor of Quacksalver, and if it wasn't for Velvet Remedy's influence, so would have the Followers.

"Their guns are shit!" one of the ganggers yelled from the back.

"And overpriced!" another shouted.

The group of ganggers began murmuring among each other, clearly annoyed with their employer, stopping only when Burning Asphalt looked back at them.

"Alright, ya got us there," Burningn Asphalt admitted with a huff as she looked back at us again. "Blue Skies doesn't deal in quality goods, so we take or pay elsewhere to buy our guns and ammo. If we were back on route 50, there'd be plenty of settlements that would give tribute in good guns." She then spat on the ground again. "Fucking contract! I told big Papa it was a bad idea, and now we’re getting cheated by that slimy business pony. But, even then, we ain't risking a good payout on a few polished rifles, girly."

"That's only if you're doing business in town. I doubt New Appleloosa is so big that we're considered to still be in town," Harp explained as she extended a hoof out as though presenting the wasteland itself. "Sheriff Ashy doesn't have authority out this far, and the Gunrunners have an association with the NCR, so if anypony tries to piss on your breakfast out here, they're just asking to get shot."

Burning Asphalt now looked impressed. "Not a bad proposition, but what's stopping us from just taking your current shit or from you just running off to suck the sheriff’s tit?"

Harp gave a long sigh. "Well, I can personally say that I wouldn't trust the sheriff to not just use this as a reason to kick us out of town. The mayor too. We're not in their good graces right now. I think it would do the town a lot of good if the two would retire. Whatever good they have done can't be worth the madness they’re sowing. As for why you shouldn't take the Smuggler…"

Longslide put a claw on her shoulder, stopping her before she trotted up to the old mare.

"As the mare said, my family has strong associations with the NCR,” Longslide put in, “and an even stronger ties to the Talons. That's two groups you don't want to be on the bad side of. Also, if you decide to cover this robbery up by killing us, I highly doubt nobody saw you come this way. When creatures start asking questions, they will put two and two together." He patted his Bozar again. "Now, to put it in the form of a question; do you really want to risk having nearly every griffon in this region being given a kill contract on you and everypony you hold dear?"

All the Desperados fell silent, and though the hot sun was beaming down on us, it felt cold.

After a moment, Burning Asphalt put her hooves up. "Alright. I get it. Ya can keep your Smuggler. Anyways, we were told to start no fights, not if we can help it that is. Still, ya all got some fucking balls. I respect that. It's been too long since we met another respectable creature out here. Ever since we came down south, it's been nothing but sniveling cowards or self-righteous uppity hero types." She again spat on the ground. "If it's not too much to ask, could we at least take a look at that Smuggler? My grandson here is a right gearhead before he could ever be considered a warrior. All of those scars are from hurting himself as he was working on our rides."

"Gram gram, they don't need to know that!" the big stallion wined.

A chuckle came from Longslide. "Alright, but I also need a favor, something only strong ponies like you could help us with."

"Is that so? Well then, let me tell you, my ponies don't come cheap." The old mare snidely informed him.

"Then let's talk business. Time is caps, after all," Longslide said as he escorted the old mare to the Smuggler.

It didn't take long for the two to hammer out a deal. As it turned out, the ganggers were in need of having most of their guns repaired as well as a resupply of good ammo. Though raiders were not even a problem where they were camped out, they were having a problem with some giant wasps that kept attacking their camp. Unsurprisingly, they were also in need of medical supplies because of the attacks, so I suggested they ask the Followers of the Apocalypse. I then had to explain who they were. Burning Asphalt was genuinely surprised such a group existed. She gladly agreed to tell their leader about them.

When the Desperados finally began to clear out the rubble from the warehouse, Slowtrot and I joined them, just to make things go faster.

They were understandably weary of me, as the last two encounters I had with them left one mare embarrassed and a stallion missing a chunk from his leg. But, as we worked, they quickly warmed up to me, not that I was trying to butter them up. They just seemed to respect that I could haul rubble as well as they did.

Slowtrot was doing surprisingly well among the ganggers. At first he informed them about the proper way to move rubble, and then began talking about an old movie called "Rebel Without A Cause," of which the ganggers enjoyed hearing about.

It took quite a bit of time, but eventually we were able to clear out the rubble and locate the spare parts for the Stable-Tec machine shop along with freeing the tractor. After a short moment, Longslide found what we needed, all of it, plus extras, which caused us to cheer in victory. There was a bit of an argument over who got the tractor, of which was in no condition to move, but after some dealing, the Desperados relented. Another deal was made for their help in hauling it back to town. Burning Asphalt decided to join us to make sure the deal was finalized.

With little time to waste, and with Harp rested, we got back in the Smuggler. and rolled out. We kept the glowing ghoul in the trailer so not to put Harp at any more risk of radiation poisoning than she already was.

"Not to pry, but why do we need that fucking tractor? Aren't they slow as balls?" I yelled/asked Longslide.

"Only when hauling heavy loads!" he answered, "I'm planning on installing its engine into the Smuggler. It should solve the power problem."

I looked back at the rusty, yet still in good condition tractor. "Didn’t you say spark talismans were a problem because they explode and such?"

"It's a Burro Industry vehicle. They didn't complete thorough selling of their vehicles, but they succeeded in renting them out, or at least that is what I read about them. Anyways, their construction vehicles are fucking durable to tartarus and back, and they have parts that are far easier to fix or replace than almost any motor wagon you can find," Longslide explained.

"They were also all over the place out west," Slowtrot chimed in. "A lot of ponies wanted to work for Burro Industries because they paid better than most companies, and had a lot of work contracts because of how reliable they were. Even saw one of their mega haulers once. The thing was like a land ship."

Something then clicked. "Wait! Was the Burro Industry run by donkeys?" I asked.

Slowtrot nodded. "Ya. I remember that they would advertise themselves as bringing donkey stubbornness to construction. It was pretty funny because of how true it was."

I gave out a long sigh. "Ya, that does sound like Happy."

"Who?" Longslide now asked.

"Happy Burro? I met him back west long ago, thought he'd make a great sailor back in the day. I mean, he had a wooden leg, and used a sword. This was a common sight back where I'm from." I explained.

"Well fuck. Didn't expect that family to still be around," Longslide said with a chuckle. "Then again, donkey's were always the most stubborn creature in Equestria. They even give the Talons a run for their caps when writing contracts."

We continued to roll along. The closer we got to town, the more ponies we started to see. Most of them were just scavengers, but we even passed by a merchant while he hauled a massive saddlebag. He was guarded by a mean-looking mercenary in black metal armor that had a white scorpion painted on it. There were even the regular looking wastelanders, covered in raggs, and likely in need of a wash.

We were about an hour before sunset when we finally returned. Standing just outside the compound was a less than thrilled looking Prism. As we rolled up, the garage doors opened. Both we and the Desperados that came with us rolled in.

As I got out of the Smuggler, I watched as Prism stomped over to me. "Okay Mom, I know you're upset, but…" I began.

I was grabbed in her telekinetic grip and pulled to her where she then hugged me. "You know how worried I was? I could just slap you!" She then put me down. "Hardballer already explained everything to me. I can't believe Ashy would take things this far. Why didn't you tell me about her almost shooting Slowtrot? That's well beyond over the line."

I sighed. "Because it will only stir up trouble for every creature if we antagonize the sheriff right now. Just trust me. We have things under control." I looked over as an exhausted-looking Harp. "But there is something I need you to do."

Prism looked over at Harp, noticing the same thing as I did. "Is she alright?"

"She is, for the most part, but she will need some radaway and a good rest to get her back to full health. We also picked up a glowing ghoul who's been locked in a room since the great war, so he's going to need some help getting caught up on recent, and ancient, history."

"So you ended up finding a radiation pocket? Why am I not surprised?" Prism asked with a droll sigh. "Alright, I'll take them to the Followers camp on the edge of town," she said as she trotted off to them.

"Oh, I also picked up some food while I was out, so there's that," I added. In response, my mother smiled as she shook her head.

I trotted over to Longslide and Hardballer just in time to see them pull out a bottle of Griffonstone Vodkas, and cheer. "So you’re back in business then?"

Hardballer gave a bellowing laugh. "Are we back in business? With these parts, and that engine, we’re fucking golden! We just need to put the machines back together and get back to work," he said cheerfully before almost skipping over to Burning Asphalt. He passed her a filled shot glass. She threw the drink down her muzzle. "Alright. My son said we had a deal to finalize, so let's write the contract for it, then."

"Alright, but don't try and cheat us! We know how ya griffons are when writing yo damn contacts." The old mare sprouted before leaving with him.

A tired-looking Slowtrot trotted up to me, yawning before he spoke. "Let's hope we don't have to do that again any time soon. Giant scorpions and ants are just too much in one day."

"Ya, I get that, but luckily that's a very rare problem in town, so just rest up. Anyways, at least you're now back at the compound. You guys have bullets for days here." I comforted him.

He nodded lazily. "True… Well, I'm going to get some sleep and hopefully not have a nightmare about today."

"You do that," I encouraged him as he trotted out to the courtyard. As soon as the door opened a pink blur rushed in.

"Mama!" Bridget yelled as she leapt onto me. "How did your adventure go? Did you fight villains? Did you slay a monsters? Did you? Did you?!"

I picked her off me and put her onto the ground. "Matter of fact, I did help slay a bunch of monsters."

Bridget squealed in excitement. "Was it a dragon, just like the Lightbringer?"

"Ehhh, well ... yes and no." I ruffled up her adorable mane. "How about I start from the beginning? After that, we’ll head home."

She energetically nodded. As we made our way home, I began recanting my little adventure, with some proper embellishment of course. Although she was so full of energy not long ago, by the time I got to where the Desperados arrived in my story, she had already fallen asleep.

"Surprised she lasted that long," Hardballer said quietly. "After helping Javelina, she had been bouncing off the walls waiting for you. Literally bouncing off the walls."

"If I had wings when I was her age, I'd have done that too," I quietly giggle.

"What did you do at her age?" he asked me curiously.

I shrugged. "Avoid getting thumped, went to church for my daily meal, and-"

A griffon jumped over to us, quietly landing on his paws, and whispered to Hardballer. The old buzzard quickly showed a sour look on his face before walking off. Carefully I got up and followed him into the courtyard, then to the reception, where the good mood was imminently ruined by the sight of Sheriff Ashy.

"This better be good after the shit you pulled last time!" Hardballer growled.

She glared back at him. "Oh it is. As I have been told, you've just recently let some raiders into your compound. Is this true?"

"Don't you start this shit again! You don't have jurisdiction over who I can sell to. Now fuck off!" He shouted.

"I protect this town, and what I say is law! Your NCR merchant rights can go fuck a radroache!" she growled back. "If you’re endangering this town, I will kill you!"

"If the Desperados are a danger, then go do something about it," Hardballer said in a mocking tone. "Oh wait, your law is second to this town's cap flow. Espresso said no, ya hear."

Ashy drew her revolver. So did Hardballer. "Say that again, slaver!" she said in a low growl.

Hardballer tilted his head up, something he did when calling some ponies bluff, and that's when I stepped in to stop this from escalating like last time. "Alright, that's enough. I can't believe the oldest ones here are acting like angry foals!" I sternly chastised them as I got in between. "Hardballer, you've been drinking, so go sit down before you make Bridget cry," I told the old buzzard before looking Ashy in the eyes, focusing ever so slightly with my evil eyes, thus shoving a little bit of fear into her and making sure she did make any sudden moves "And you should know better. If a crime has been committed, go write an official report to the NCR. We’re not going anywhere, at least not on your terms."

Breaking eye contact, Ashy backed off, breathing heavily before holstering her revolver. "Fine, but trust me when I say this; if I catch any of you dealing with raiders, I will have justice done." She said as she stomped out of the compound.

Letting myself fall back onto my flank, I let out a long stressed filled breath. "This day has just been too much." I sighed.

"You are just full of surprises, Star. I never seen her back down like that." Hardballer gave a nervous chuckle as he slid back in his seat. "But still, if she's pushing this hard, then it's time I move shop. Not back to Fillydelphia, but the Gunrunners definitely can't stay here."

I got back onto my hooves and trotted over to Hardballer. "I heard that Lass Pegusus is a good place for business."

Hardballer shrugged. "Maybe, but I first have to get our commissions done for the NCR and Desperados. Should be easy with everything coming back online, and with those new parts." He looked at me with worry on his face. "Star, are you okay? Your eyes…"

"My eyes?" I rubbed them with my hood. I found blood on it… Shit, I forced more than I should have. Now my eyes were bleeding. Worse, I was getting really hungry. "I… I'm fine. I just a little condition I have when I get over-excited or stressed. All I need is some food and rest. That's all."

The old griffon still looked concerned. "Alright Star, but if you feel even a little worse, go get checked out by the Followers. The wasteland is still full of unknown illnesses and other weird shit. You understand?"

"I do. Trust me, I definitely do," I reassured him as I left to go and collect my daughter.

I know I only used a little of the evil eye. I'm not a little filly anymore. I can control it, keep my eyes from bleeding, and keep the hunger at bay, yet why did I lose control just now, and why am I still getting hungrier?

I don't like this, not at all.