Author's Notes:

As usual, I wanna thank my editor, EverfreePony, and my pre-reader/co-author/idea-bouncing-board, SnakeEye
Google Docs Link

Banter

I woke up from my short nap, and it took me a moment to remember where I was. To my left, the IV bag that had been dripping into me was now empty. Curious, I checked my PipBuck and confirmed that my radiation levels had dropped. This explained why I felt so much better now.

Candy had insisted we visit the doctor after we’d found out there was one in New Detrot. She’d been worried about my radiation ever since she’d seen what my PipBuck said about my irradiation level.

The room was incredibly clean, for wasteland standards. It even compared admirably to the average room back in the stable.

When we’d arrived at the clinic, about five minutes away from the train station, we were greeted by the unicorn ghoul doctor who worked there. We were warned about her appearance by Gust, but seeing her nearly sent me into a fit of panic regardless, even though I knew she was friendly. I was still wondering what was wrong with me.

In the adjacent room, I could hear the doctor talking to Candy in her raspy ghoul voice. “If I could afford it, I would absolutely take you in to train under me full time. As things stand, I couldn’t really compensate you for your work. Of course, if you find the time to help out, I’d more than appreciate your time.” She let out a sound I could only assume was a sigh. “I’ve been meaning to get a new trainee for a while, but it’s gonna be hard if I can’t pay you. If we had more ponies around here, I’m sure I could convince Gust to fund your training.”

“I understand.” Candy sounded dejected. “I’ll try to volunteer when I can, but I can’t guarantee anything. The past few days have been harsh for me and Iron, and making ends meet is hard when all you can really do is run errands.”

It had turned out that even dirty water was fairly expensive, and that well-paying jobs were rare. Ponies just didn’t have many errands they needed run. If you pressed them, they’d remember something that could be done, but were never willing to pay that much for it.

The jobs on the notice board were all either just as cheap, or simply too dangerous for us to attempt.

Of course, I’d suggested we could go after some bounties.

But as expected, Candy shot down that idea.

At first, I couldn’t quite understand why. She’d understood when I killed the raiders, so I didn’t understand why killing other bad ponies wasn’t a good thing in general.

She replied that at best she was still very uncomfortable taking on a job that involved another pony. She didn’t want to play executioner. That not everypony with a bounty on their head was guilty of their crime, and Gust had confirmed that. Besides, it was dangerous.

I ended up reluctantly agreeing and cursed how complicated morality was outside the stable. Back inside it was simple; if it brought prosperity or stability to the stable, it was good, if it did the opposite, it was bad.

I later asked Candy for clarification on why she’d praised me for killing the raiders, if she thought killing was bad.

She explained that she was proud that my actions helped other ponies, but that she herself preferred avoiding murder; that she never wanted to have it become a routine for her or me. I was satisfied with that explanation. I understood why getting used to killing was such a horrible thought to her; I myself had been shocked at my willingness to shoot Stockpile because he might have been an enemy.

I was snapped out of my reverie by Radheart, the doctor, walking into the room. Noticing that I was awake, she said, “Oh, looks like she’s up.”

Candy walked into the room, and the ghoul removed the needle from my foreleg, placing a bandaid where it had been. We were ready now to go on our way. I moved towards my saddlebags, but Radheart cleared her throat and rasped, “Before you two go… let me give you the piece of advice I try to give to everypony: Find your virtue and live by it.” My virtue? As in one of the six virtues attached to the Elements? I was fairly certain Magic loosely fit me, given how strong my horn was. Then again, I didn’t like magic; did that still count? I suppose I didn’t dislike it either.

“What do you mean by that?” Candy asked. “What even is a virtue in this context?” Right, the virtues attached to the Elements were considered advanced material, so it made sense Candy wouldn’t know about them.

“A virtue is what defines you at your core. In the wasteland, it’s all you can cling to when life gets tough. The one thing that lets you stick to your sense of self and, by extension, your sanity,” the ghoul explained.

“Does it have to be one of the six?” I inquired, hoping to gain some recognition for my knowledge. Candy raised an eyebrow, while Radheart looked pleasantly surprised.

“No, it can be any virtue. Mine’s Confidence,” the doctor proudly admitted.

Candy opened her mouth, then hesitated for a moment, before asking, “How do I find it? Is there some sort of trick to it?”

“That’s the hard part. You have to find it for yourself.”

I chipped in, “Isn’t your virtue Kindness, Candy?” She fit the role perfectly, did she not?

She just shook her head. “No, not everything I think is kind.”

“I don’t think that matters,” interjected Radheart, “you are not your thoughts; only your actions define you.” That was a relief.

“Hmm. I still don’t think it fits me that well.”

“I understand,” Radheart replied. I had a hard time thinking of a virtue for myself. Magic clearly wasn’t it, and I doubted confidence matched either. If only I had some sort of grand list of virtues I could read through until I found mine. “One more thing. Once you find your virtue, cling to it and cling to your friends. Your sanity depends on it.” She smiled at us, a confusingly comforting sight, given how ugly she was. “I’ll leave you be now, have a great day. If you ever need any life advice, feel free to stop by!”

I picked up my saddlebags with my teeth—my magic still wasn’t back. According to Candy, it would take a while before I could use it again. The next few weeks would not be fun.

We walked out and found where we’d hidden the wagon and started moving towards the Foal Mountain train station. Our plan was to take the electric heater we’d left behind, and start using it at night to keep ourselves warm. Slowly, this cart we’d so gladly taken from quite possibly the most evil pony I would ever meet, was turning into our new home, as we did our best to make it our own.

I was levitating my rifle in front of me, concentrating on keeping it steady as part of my daily practice, while my mind roamed freely. Occasionally, my attention would wander to my EFS, which stayed empty, save for Candy’s marker.

The past three weeks had been above average. We were two days west of New Detrot, and a day west of Marey Junction. The latter was the last named settlement along the green metro line. Everywhere else along that line, you would occasionally find a small group of ponies living on their own in the ruins.

Most were scavengers and prospectors, living off the things they found and needed and selling off everything else. They’d chosen to live this far north because raiders and bandits weren’t as common, and a peaceful, albeit harsh, life awaited most ponies here.

Some, in the few named settlements, had other jobs. Some were guards or other types of hired guns, while others ran inns or bars. Doctors were few and far between, but there were at least two that I knew of. Others still had occupations that Candy had been too flustered to describe.

Meanwhile, Candy and I had become some of the local errand girls. We accepted most types of jobs. Deliver a message or letter, pick up some ingredients for healing potions from a nearby town—mostly small gems to act as catalysts for healing magic. I didn’t understand the details of the spell, but they were apparently needed to put healing spells into a fluid form. We would also help carry some heavy things. Anything ponies were willing to pay us for, really.

However, over the course of the few weeks, I’d started noticing some odd moments. Some days, I would lose control of my body like I had at Moonshine’s bar. Sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for the entire day. It really was like a memory orb of my own self.

Our latest job had been delivering a package to somepony’s relative. Every once in a while, we would encounter a feral ghoul or two. They almost never posed any threat, once I got my magic back. Prior to that, there had been scares with me missing shots on the undead beasts, but luckily Candy was always able to protect me.

She and I had bought some cheap paper that I could use for target practice, and I’d spent a significant portion of my free time practicing my markspony skills. Though the limiting factor to how much I was able to train remained the cost of ammunition, despite .22LR rounds being comparatively cheap. Getting accustomed to aiming with my hooves was a doozy, and I was never able to get very tight groupings. Lying down helped, but even then, my hold on the rifle just wasn’t as precise as with my telekinesis. How on Equus did earth ponies do this? Did they even use rifles, or did they stick to muzzleguns?

Naturally, when my horn eventually—finally—recovered, I was thrilled to practice with my magic as well. My groupings were now so tight that I was genuinely surprised. Had my aim improved across the board, or had I just always been this good, just never known it? I doubted the latter, though the former didn’t explain the whole picture either. I’d certainly gotten better at understanding where my shot would land based on my iron sights’ position, but I had a hard time imagining that this alone made me so good at aiming.

As for my firearm’s condition, I’d repaired it a fortnight ago. In hindsight, I should have waited until my horn had recovered, as replacing the damaged parts had proven to be a nightmare without the fine motor skills of my magic. Luckily, I understood the weapon well enough that even though it took several hours, I had still managed to put it back together. It was now in much better overall condition than ever before—and my PipBuck agreed!

However, when I did regain my magic, I also started regularly polishing the gun. Once I was sure my horn wouldn’t give out, I tried to reach that state of telekinetic hypersensitivity again, this time in order to find the irregularities in the metal, and then polish them away on a very small scale. This turned out very effective, as the gun was starting to look close to new. Stars, I love guns and taking care of them.

I holstered my rifle and turned around to notice Candy watching me with a serene smile, which I returned. She then asked, “Are you ready? We should try to get back to ND as soon as we can.” I nodded.

We were walking towards the eastern side of New Detrot. It had been fairly big prior to the megaspells, but now only few ponies inhabited the ghost town. Throughout our errands, the two of us had proven adept enough at killing ghouls, to the point that Gust had decided to hire us specifically to get rid of a flock of ferals that had attacked travellers near the town’s outskirts.

Candy had hesitated at first, talking about the danger, but both Gust and I had managed to convince her. Still, he sent a mercenary along with us just to make sure the job would get done. Or maybe he was concerned for us, but I doubted that; he was too serious a business-bird to care.

I realised that this technically made us mercenaries as well, and that maybe this fact had caused Candy to hesitate a little as well. Though I figured that clearing a pack of ghouls was far enough removed from the idea of bounty hunting that she was alright with it.

Gale, who’d been walking next to us, stopped and spoke up, “We’re getting close to the place. I’ll fly up and scout ahead.”

Less than a minute later, she returned, and we talked through a plan. We had a tall building that would act as the perfect vantage point for Gale and I, though she would back Candy up on the ground if things got heated. Meanwhile, I had no reason to leave the safety of the mall roof.

I momentarily wondered why Gale couldn’t just shoot from an airborne vantage point, but realised how impossibly difficult it would be to aim while flapping your wings. If anything, she’d need to glide circles around the pack, and that would leave her in an optimal firing position only once per revolution. It would probably work fairly well against opponents who could shoot back—she could minimise the likelihood of getting hit thanks to flying maneuvers. As it stood, however, staying on the roof was clearly the best strategy.

I started walking towards the building’s front entrance when the griffin called out, “Don’t bother, I can just fly you up.”

I agreed and undid my saddlebags, and she grabbed my barel under my forelegs, before lifting me into the air. The short flight felt… exhilarating. I giggled gleefully as I was transported through the air. Only when my eyes wandered downward did I feel the sudden but visceral fear of plummeting to the ground. Thankfully, by that point we were already almost on the roof.

The griffin pointed down the road, and I could see a group of—I took a moment to count them—twenty or so ghouls, about seventy metres away. That was a distance I wasn’t perfectly comfortable sniping from just yet. One hundred metres practice left me with a spread that was less than ideal for live targets, especially given how much easier it was to aim at a stationary target. I was to give the first shot—likely because Gale didn’t trust me to be very useful once they started moving. And I wanted to prove her wrong.

I adjusted my iron sights to the fifty metre notch, and the griffin gave me a look that unambiguously said “take your time, kiddo”. This was one of the few good occasions where taking a mint was justified. I levitated the box out of my harness’ pocket—much better spot to keep them than my saddlebags—and placed it on my tongue.

Gale was staring at me with an expression that reminded me of Airwaves’ a few weeks back. Shocked and perplexed, but also apparently uncomfortable. However, as I challenged her judging gaze, she didn’t voice her thoughts and just looked away. This was something I would need to ask Candy about.

Growing impatient, and feeling that everyone was waiting for me, I started chewing on the piece of candy until all of it had melted in my mouth. It felt like a waste to eat it this quickly and not take the time to enjoy the taste, but I was already starting to feel the effects.

I levitated out my rifle and momentarily marvelled at how stable my telekinesis felt under the effects of the sugar rush. Then I pointed it at the mob of ghouls, aiming for the head of the closest one. Now that I was paying closer attention to the pack, I noticed the one in the middle seemed to glow a slight neon green colour. I adjusted my aim to its head instead, then channeled more power into my aura.

My experience in the metro, as well as later during practice, had taught me that controlling recoil helped reduce spread in my groupings, and holding the rifle almost perfectly still improved my accuracy further.

I pulled the trigger and watched as bright fluid erupted from the ghoul’s head. To my utter surprise, however, it kept moving. And move it did. The entire flock turned towards me and started to gallop. Next to me, Gale whispered, “Nice shot…”

I followed the glowy one with my iron sights, and when the opportunity presented itself, I shot again. This time, it fell. I immediately switched targets to another ghoul and shot, only to miss. Be more patient, idiot.

I waited until I knew it would hit, then took another shot, felling a feral. I repeated the action twice until I knew my magazine was empty. Next to me, Gale was firing her own rifle, the much larger bore making my own sound puny in comparison.

Grabbing a clip from my harness, I pushed it into the magazine through the open chamber, then adjusted my iron sights to the twenty metre notch. At this distance, the trajectory of the shots was almost a straight line anyway, so it didn’t matter much, but it did feel wrong to use the incorrect setting.

Once the group reached Candy, more than three quarters of them had been culled by our combined efforts. Shooting at the crowd, I could observe how gracefully Candy wielded her shotgun, while throwing powerful kicks at ghouls right after. Soon, the entire original group was dispatched, but a few new ghouls had been roused by the noise and were running over.

A few minutes later, that particular street of New Detrot was again free of ghouls.

I sat next to Candy in front of our campfire, empty cooking pot between us. With our proximity to the forest, red bars would continuously blink in and out of existence.

Once a week, we were able to budget for fresh produce, and the food that resulted from it was always delicious. Because neither Candy nor I had much experience cooking, it was always a similar, very basic stew. However, it was so refreshing to get to eat some real food that neither of us minded.

I gave a satisfied yawn. Our Sunday dinner was always big enough that I’d be satiated halfway through my portion, but would keep eating anyway. It was easy to eat large meals when it was this good. Or rather, when it was this much better than what I normally ate. I missed stable food.

Candy, who’d finished her bowl a few minutes ago, spoke up as I levitated mine on top of hers, “So, yesterday Gale talked to me about something.” I perked up, perplexed. Candy sounded worried and almost… careful?

“Yes?” Could it be about my mints? I would have excluded it, but both Gale and Airwaves had given me weird looks, and things were looking odd. Though I still couldn’t really understand why. I doubted it was a silly explanation like envy.

“She told me she saw you take mint-als,” she deadpanned. So it was the candy.

“Yeah? What’s wrong with that?” I wondered. Probably the best way to ask it.

“You… really don’t know?” I shook my head in reply. “Hmm…” She took a moment to think about her next words. “You know that’s a drug… right?” The hesitation in her voice was abundantly clear. Why was she so hesitant?

“It is? How is it used to cure ponies? That’s what drugs are, right? They cure ponies.”

“Well, this one can help ponies with concentration issues stay productive. A general description would include an increase in one’s ability to think logically as well as creatively. The biggest issue is that a lot of ponies who don’t need it abuse it and get addicted.” She calmly explained, her tone betraying her reluctance about the topic.

I still didn’t fully understand. “What do you mean by ‘addicted’? I don’t think I’ve encountered this word before.” I hoped phrasing it like that would hide my cluelessness, but I had my doubts. I didn’t need another ‘what’s sex’ moment, after all.

She raised an eyebrow and proceeded to give me an explanation of the physical and mental process of addiction, and as she went on, I found myself understanding those oddly strong cravings for my mints. On one hoof, it was reassuring that there was a biological explanation for how I felt. On the other, it was eerie that a chemical could produce such feelings in me. I’d always assumed it was just me longing for the taste, but thinking of it like that… revolted me. How could I let that control me?

‘Withdrawal’ also explained what I’d previously thought to be a sugar crash.

“Where did you even find this box? How many did you take?” inquired Candy.

“In the train station at the foot of the mountain. Was already mostly empty, so I only took four—” I recounted the occurrences in my head. “—no, five over the past month or so.”

“I always knew this packaging was incredibly dangerous. What were pre-bomb ponies thinking? You can’t package drugs like candy. Foals might find them and even smart ones might not realise they shouldn’t take them!” ranted the unicorn. Then, her face took on a confused expression. “But I wonder… You must have noticed the effect… Not to mention, you never took them in my presence. Were you trying to hide it from me? Are you lying to me, Iron?”

Only thing worse than being caught lying was being accused of lying when you weren’t. “I’m not, I swear. I just knew the effects as a ‘sugar rush’, instead of thinking that it was medicine. As for why I never took them in your presence… I just… didn’t want to share…” While it was true that sometimes she just happened to not be nearby, I hadn’t exactly been willing to share either.

For a moment, I thought she wasn’t going to believe me as her expression turned to consternation, but then she relaxed and giggled. “That’s such an oddly innocent reason to hide a drug addiction. Though I’m surprised you assumed this was a universal thing for sugar. Did you not have any other types of candy as a foal?” My thoughts moved to the vending machines connected to the mysterious fourth floor. Those sold other candies, didn’t they?

“Nah, this was the only one Mother let me.”

Candy’s face immediately turned stone cold again, concern and anger prevalent. “Your mother. She let you take it? Did I understand that correctly?”

Oh. I hadn’t realised this until now. I didn’t understand the implications previously. But now… “She did, yes, and I’m just now coming to understand how messed up that could be seen as.” There had to be some explanation. Maybe she didn’t know? No, unlikely, she was a smart mare. Or maybe…? I couldn’t exclude it. “Could it be that she just didn’t know it was bad?”

“I highly doubt that, but maybe you can give me more details. How did she come around to giving it to you? She already has a bad track record.” She then muttered to herself, “Fuck, I can’t believe this…”

“A few years ago she gave me one of those candies—I mean, mint-als. Ever since she’s been letting me have one a week.” That didn’t sound like behaviour from somepony unaware of the risks, did it? There had to be a reason, though.

“That’s… horrible,” she mumbled. “I can’t imagine Auntie being so awful…”

“I… I’m sure there’s got to be a reason. Mother wouldn’t just hurt me. Maybe there are long term benefits?”

Candy simply deadpanned. Yeah, she’s right. You don’t believe it either, do you? “Or maybe, she was willing to get you addicted if it helped her groom you into the perfect overmare.” Her tone was cold with fury, but I knew her anger wasn’t directed at me.

There was a pregnant pause until she spoke up again, “Iron, I understand it’s hard to believe. I understand that you see her as your one good parent, but… I don’t think she’s good. I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt when you told me how she kept you in the dark about sex. I was willing to buy that her reluctance to tell you could have been accidental. But twice in a row can’t be an accident. I wonder what else she kept from you.” Continuing, “Fuck, I’m ready to bet you guys didn’t even have books on either subject matter.”

I bit my lip and held back tears. “It’s still so hard to believe…”

“I understand,” she said softly, embracing me. “But I think the sooner you accept that she’s a bad pony, the quicker you can move on and stop her influence on your life.”

I nodded, on the verge of tears, and pressed my face into her neck and shoulder, quietly sobbing for a few minutes. My mind was blank except for the hurt of betrayal.

After I calmed down, I freed myself from the hug and sniffled. I was embarrassed to have left snot and tears on her coat. I opened my saddlebags with my magic, levitating out the tin of mint-als. I took one last look at it, then threw it into the fire. I doubted the actual box would be destroyed, but it was more of a symbolic act than anything else. Selling them would have been the optimal choice, but this felt like the right one.

I sighed, and she embraced me again. We sat there for a while longer, in a sad, thoughtful silence. Ironically, I felt the best I ever had. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. Finally, I knew I had made the right choice leaving the stable. I still didn’t know why my mother would expose me to something like that, but I knew that she did. It really was time to let go, wasn’t it?

Later that night, as we went to bed, I found myself unable to fall asleep. Instead, I felt this weird trance take me over once again, like it had in Moonshine’s bar. I left my cousin’s embrace and went outside. Closing the door, I sat down on the ridge of the wagon and started reading data entries in my PipBuck. I couldn’t understand why, as I already knew everything written there. And yet, despite the emptiness of my EFS, I felt anxious. Terrified, even.

Eventually, the cold caught up to me, and I shivered. I went back inside, cuddled up with Candy, and slowly fell asleep.

Footnote:

New Perk: Repair — You are now able to significantly restore an object’s condition using this complex spell. In order to do so, however, you need to understand how the object functions. In other words, to use this spell, you need to have the knowledge of how to repair the object given the raw materials and tools.

New Quest Perk: Steady Telekinesis II — The steadying of your telekinesis is now second nature to you, allowing you exceptional stability when holding objects. Additionally, when you concentrate, you’re able to reach nigh-perfect stability with your aura.

For the first time in a few weeks, I was awake before Iron. Careful not to wake her up, I left the wagon, levitating my jumpsuit behind me. I always felt vulnerable without my armour, oh so vulnerable. But getting it out of the cart would likely be noisy, and I just wanted to go for a small run. My EFS was perfectly empty, if I didn’t count Iron’s green bar.

My mind momentarily flashed the terrifying memory of that foggy night, when I thought some animal had killed my little cousin, only to have her shoot me instead.

I immediately pushed the thought to the back of my mind. It wasn’t her fault. It was all just a misunderstanding. She didn’t mean to shoot me, and I knew it. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to relax. Blaming her for any of this would only make life harder for her, and for no good reason. Poor filly’s already been through enough. It was my job to protect her, make her life easier, not harder.

We’d stayed in the garage of the abandoned building we were always using to conceal our cart. The house itself was a fairly normal, if high class, mansion close to the outskirts of what had once been Foal Junction. The garage entrance was rather well hidden, so even though most parts of the old house were slowly falling apart, this large room was perfect to hide in.

Technically, we could have slept in the mansion’s old bedrooms, but neither of us had ever preferred that over our familiar wagon. Once we’d dissociated the idea of that pony from it, mostly out of spite for the buck, it became our new home. Leaving it for some old mansion felt wrong.

I exited the building and took a small jog, like I’d tried to every day since we’d reached New Detrot. While it was good for my body, it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Every other day, I would end up running to or away from ghouls. The rest I was pulling our home around. No, I really didn’t need additional endurance training, though I did still find moments for some strength training.

My mental health, however, benefited greatly from those jogs. It was the moment of the day where I just let loose and allowed my legs to take over.

I normally never felt worried when leaving Iron while I went for a jog, since I knew she could defend herself, though anxiety still gnawed at the back of my mind as I remembered that she was still asleep. I tried to hush it by justifying that I knew she wasn’t in any danger whatsoever, and it mostly worked, as I was finally able to enjoy my run.

After I returned, I noticed Iron had finally gotten up. She wasn’t wearing her usual cold and calculating expression. Instead, she looked curious, sad, and a little scared, all emotions that only appeared on her face when we were alone—at least that I’d noticed.

This new side of her was likely her own way of opening up to me, and it was through it that I had realised that she really was just a filly. Her usual rational and closed-off front was just a façade for the scared filly inside.

“Good morning, Iron,” I said, and she replied the same, in an unexpectedly meek voice.

We then had breakfast and made for the train station.

We entered the main hall, and I quickly noticed a new face sitting at a merchant table: a yellow earth pony buck, orange bangs covering his left cheek. When he noticed my gaze, he returned it with his deep blue eyes.

Fuck, why was such an attractive buck here? We happened to need a few things, but there was no way I could haggle with someone who could make me melt with one look!

Before I could come up with a plan, however, Iron had already walked up to his stand and was casually asking him his name. That was a pleasant surprise, as I’d never seen her approach somepony like that. Maybe it was because he was roughly my age, unlike the vast majority of the local ponies?

My mind returned to Equus just in time to hear his reply. “I’m Banter. You?” he returned the question, his voice was smooth as silk.

“Iron Sonata. And this is Candy Cane,” she replied, pointing towards me. “She’s my older sister. Anyway, you were in Marey Junction a few weeks ago, right?” Hearing her refer to me as her sibling warmed my heart and made me happy, but I had a feeling she wasn’t saying it purely out of sentimentality.

His expression turned curious, “You were there too? I don’t remember seeing you.”

Iron smirked, answering, “I caught a glimpse of your group as you were leaving, I was surprised to see other ponies our age.” I had a spike of envy of her eyesight right there, but I pushed it aside, focusing on more positive things. Iron was trying to make friends!

“You sound like you’re new around here. What’s your story?”

“The standard, pretty much. Parents died half a year ago, and we’ve been trying to get by ever since.” Wait, why was she blatantly lying? I didn’t want to interrupt her thing, but she would owe me an explanation later.

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that. So you’re scavengers like us, then?”

“Not really. We mostly just run errands. Deliver letters, help kill some ghouls, rescue irresponsible and airheaded radio hosts from another pack of ferals, things like that.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at that last remark.

“So, you two are basically guns for hire?”

Finding an opportunity to enter the conversation, I spoke up, “Not really. We don’t accept to kill ponies for payment. Though it would be dishonest to say we can’t be paid to kill ghouls.” Oh Luna, why did I have to word it like that? I sounded like I was showing off.

“Ah, interesting. I can understand why, to be honest.” He gave me a smile, and I cursed my weak heart. What was wrong with me? I didn’t even know him! “Would you like to buy anything?”

“Yeah, we’ve been meaning to get a bedsheet or some kind of soft cloth to put on a mattress. Figured if anypony has something like that, it would be a prospector. Of course, we have a very limited budget.” Oh, there I went trying to sound cool again. Somepony please muzzle me.

He dug around behind himself and pulled out different cloths that roughly matched the description. We picked the cheapest one, given that it was good enough. I packed the folded bedsheet into my saddlebags. When we turned around to get to another table, he asked us, “Are you two interested in a job? I could give you the details tonight at Moonshine’s. If not, do you want to just… hang out there?”

Iron and I shared looks and nodded at each other. Then, I replied, “Sure!” If today’s had us go far from town, we’d surely not be able to join him. However, the two of us hadn’t really talked to anypony outside of business in a few weeks, so I wanted to at least socialise a little when we had the chance. I’d been planning to get in touch with Airwaves sometime soon, though I would have preferred hanging out with her sober; Iron had seemed completely out of it during our last trip to the bar.

Afterwards, we went to buy some ammunition. Luckily, Iron always kept our guns in perfect condition, so we never needed to rely on others for repair or maintenance, and the only thing we needed from this pony were bullets, shells, and slugs. Then we walked over to Gust and took a glimpse at the notice board behind the griffin.

Looking through the different tasks, Iron complained how menial most of them were. A few weeks ago, we would have reluctantly accepted a job that involved cleaning an old building—we even had taken on a similar one. Now, however, we were more interested in the slightly more dangerous and well-paying tasks. Of course, we avoided real danger as much as we could, but many ponies were—understandably—scared of ghouls, and yet needed something from an infested area. Meanwhile, Iron and I understood the danger, but didn’t overestimate it, and we also knew our limits; a few ferals were definitely within our ability to handle.

Finally, my eyes settled on a familiar name. Airwaves was offering a job? I took a closer look. She apparently needed somepony to reactivate a relay north of here. It had been taken over by raiders who’d shut down the tower. That was when I lost interest in the offer. I would not murder somepony—fucked up or no—just to make money.

Another voice nagged in my head, however. Raiders were terrible ponies, weren’t they? Would it really be bad if I got rid of them? After all, Iron had helped out the region quite a bit by killing that group near Foal Mountain.

No. I mean yes. I mean, she did cause good, but I wasn’t going to become an executioner. It wasn’t up to me to decide who should live or die. Then, an obvious thought crossed my mind. The job was out of the question anyway, as it was much too dangerous to begin with. Those ponies would shoot back if we tried to get rid of them, they weren’t like dumb ghouls.

Then, another thought crossed my mind. What if we could negotiate with them? Airwaves hadn’t written anything about a peaceful negotiation, so I could only wonder. Iron must have noticed me staring, as she said, “Please tell me we’re not taking that one. The payment is Stars-awful, and it sounds incredibly risky.”

I shook my head, then turned my attention to other posters. Eventually, Iron and I settled on a simple job we could do today. We would help carry supplies from the train station to a building that was being renovated. Apparently they were planning on making it into an inn. Since we were working under Gust, the payment was at least worth our time.

As evening came by, we were walking towards Moonshine’s bar. I was physically exhausted, having carried heavy crates on my back for the better part of seven hours, and Iron told me she had a headache and overall seemed very tired. She’d helped by carrying smaller things on her, and levitating a few heavier objects. Though I suspected long-term mint-al withdrawal was also a bit of a culprit here.

She was lucky the box she’d found was almost empty, given that the only reason she hadn’t started taking them daily—or even worse, multiple a day—was out of fear of running out. If she’d done that, her addiction would have been much harder to deal with. As it stood, she would have to endure those headaches for a few more months until her brain learned to function without them entirely, but she seemed to understand perfectly that she needed to resist the urges, and I was incredibly proud of her.

As much as I regretted leaving the stable and everything bad that had come from that choice, I was glad I’d managed to save Iron from her mother. She’d gotten hurt really bad, but I genuinely believed that she would heal mentally, and I’d make it my duty to protect her physically and give her the kindness she needed to grow into a good pony.

I would make my hurt mean something. My mind flashed pictures of Silv—no! Push that thought back. I didn’t have time for this. I couldn’t afford to make Iron worry about me. It happened a month ago, could I please stop getting memories of it whenever I stopped paying attention where my mind wandered? Iron needed me. She didn’t need a broken mess that couldn’t take care of herself. I was out here because of her, and I would make sure she would be alright.

Getting nightmares about it was already bad enough, and I wished my mind would leave me be during the day. How much longer would I have to suffer from this? I needed to be strong. For Iron.

“Hey, Candy, are you alright?” she suddenly asked me. Luna fuck me aggressively, I must have been making a face. I swear, nothing gets by this filly.

“Oh yeah, I was just thinking about today’s job,” I blatantly lied.

She groaned in response. “Ugh, yeah. The money’s good, but stars, does my horn hurt. I swear I was a minute away from burnout.” Her words piqued my interest.

Curiously, I asked her, “I noticed you started swearing by the stars lately, is there any reason for that?”

“Well, you know I wasn’t brought up religious. But when I saw through that hole in the sky a few weeks ago, something odd awoke in me. I’m not exactly sure how to describe it, but I was mesmerised. I still dream of them every so often.” Interesting.

We finally arrived at Moonshine’s bar, where we met Banter. To my surprise, a young mare and a filly—about Iron’s age—sat next to him at the table. Weren’t they a bit young to have a daughter? Then again, some ponies thought I was Iron’s mother, so maybe I’d extrapolated too far. Or maybe they were just siblings, why did my mind jump to the least logical conclusion first?

“Evening. You look… tired,” said the buck.

“Good evening,” I replied, taking a seat. “You could say so. We had a long day.”

Iron then asked the two other ponies, “Hey. I remember you two, what are your names?”

The gorgeous buck encouraged them with a glance, and the dark blue filly replied shily, “My name’s Lockpick, n-nice to meet you.”

He nudged the grey-pink mare next to her, who spoke up in a flat, unenthused voice, “I’m Petal.”

Before the conversation could derail, Banter said, “Like I said earlier, I’m looking to employ you two. Would you care for a drink?” He pointed at the Sparkle-Cola bottles on the table, that I hadn’t paid attention to until now.

I could tell Iron was hesitant about accepting it, so I asked in her stead, “This is non-alcoholic, right?”

Iron sighed, and Banter raised an eyebrow. “Yes, indeed.”

Both of us then accepted a drink, and I was pleasantly surprised by the prickly feeling and the sweet and tart taste. I took a bigger swig from the bottle and sighed, content. Iron seemed to be enjoying it as well.

“So, I’m looking to hire you two as guards,” Banter told us.

“But I told you we don’t do mercenary work,” I protested.

“The point wouldn’t be to protect us from ponies, however. We’re mostly looking to scavenge in some parts of the Detrot industrial zone, and just to get there we need to walk along the eastern railroad tracks. The wildlife there can be… troublesome.” He took a sip of his own Sparkle-Cola. “Not to mention the ghouls and robots that will be awaiting us up there.”

“Interesting. What’s the pay?” inquired… my sister. It did feel nice to think of her as that. I wanted to protest her accepting without asking for my input, but she probably guessed that this had settled my qualms. Besides, she hadn’t accepted anything, she’d just asked about the payment.

“Ten caps a day, but we provide food and water. I would love to pay you more, but I’m afraid this is all we can really afford.” That explained why he wasn’t looking to hire real mercs. But it was still a pretty good rate, I had to admit.

“What about ammo?” Right, forgot about that. Thanks, Iron.

“We can’t exactly buy you tons of it, but if it’s needed to keep us safe, we can cover a few dozen rounds.”

I looked at Iron, and we seemed to agree. She spoke up, “Candy and I need to talk this through in private, we’ll be right back.”

She followed me outside, and I asked her, “Do you think we should trust them?”

“No,” she replied flatly, confirming my doubts. “However, we shouldn’t have to trust them. If we’ll be travelling with them, we can sleep away from them, and we need to negotiate our own terms for the food and water.” That made sense, given our past experiences with poisoned food. “However, at the same time, but from the way they act, I suspect they truly aren’t that great at defending themselves. I could be wrong, but they seem to be more pacifist types.” How did she figure that out? How is she this much smarter than me? And why didn’t she say anything when we were at Stockpile’s and— Stop. I wasn’t going to blame her for what happened to me.

“You mean they wouldn’t doublecross us because they need us?”

“Exactly. I wouldn’t bet my life on it, and I don’t really wanna trust them in any case.”

“I understand. As much as, what was her name…? Right, Lockpick. She seems too young to really want to hurt anypony, but I can’t really trust Petal or Banter out of nowhere, even though they might be younger than me.”

“So, let’s try to aim for thirty caps a day, but this will probably have to vary. We can’t accept anything below twenty-five, though.”

I nodded in reply, and we went back inside where we discussed the price. Banter ended up very understanding of our reservations, and we wound up agreeing on twenty-seven caps a day. We wouldn’t be making a huge profit, but it would give us an opportunity to see a different region. Not to mention, we still weren’t paying for ammunition, and Iron could maintain our weapons at no cost.

“But I wonder, why us in particular?” I asked.

“We were stuck for a few weeks in Hollow Shades, and we heard from Gust that you two cleared the raider nest that stopped us from leaving,” he explained.

“Actually, that was just me,” Iron interjected. “Candy and I were separated at the time.”

“Riiight.” His tone of voice indicated that he didn’t believe a single word of that, but he didn’t explicitly state it. Iron’s face told me she wanted to challenge him on his skepticism, but ultimately, neither of them said anything.

In the slightly awkward silence, I asked, “Has the green line always been so populated? It seems like every few stops there’s a couple or a family.”

He seemed relieved at the change of topic and happy to make small talk. “It’s just the safest one, and it’s so long that everypony can find a ‘piece of paradise’.”

“You… don’t seem convinced,” I responded, tilting my head.

“It’s not that. It’s just that our dream is to make it into Tenpony Tower, and we won’t settle for anything less. It’s gonna take a few years, but we’re well on our way. Most residents there are like us, experienced scavengers.”

“Tenpony Tower?” I asked.

“An old MAS building in Manehattan. Survived the bombs really well, and its current day inhabitants are high class ponies. Or, at least, it’s what they want us to believe; at the end of the day, they’re just scavengers.” MAS? Oh, the Ministry of Arcane Science. Right.

“I’m surprised the zebras didn’t reduce it to dust,” my sister commented. “Manehattan's MAS hub was amongst the biggest in Equestria. It had to be a target.” My head hurt at even the idea of History classes.

“I dunno, I think there was a barrier around the building. From what I’ve been told, at least.”

Our conversation moved away from History and onto more interesting topics. Eventually, we eventually left the bar and agreed to meet up at the train station at sunrise the next day, to make a contract with Gust as our witness and get moving.

“W-wait, you’re younger than m-me?” Lockpick quietly sputtered after learning Iron’s age. The latter raised an eyebrow.

“I guess so. Why is that so surprising? It’s not the first time I’ve been told I don’t look my age, but I can’t really tell why,” she replied in her usual calm tone.

“W-well…” she stammered. “For one, you’re taller than me. You also have that look on your face. That look adults have, I’m not really sure how to describe it.”

Banter was younger than me, while Petal was a bit older, effectively making me the second oldest in our ragtag group.

We were currently sitting around a campfire, surrounded by a dense conifer forest, after a long day of walking. Iron and I were leaning against each other. I hadn’t taken off my armour, and she still wore her harness. Part of why was that we still didn’t fully trust these ponies, but we were also our two best fighters. Iron had mentioned that her EFS had been swarming with red bars that were constantly blinking in and out of existence, so this was another reason to stay careful. She’d been extremely worried for a few hours, but this worry eventually turned to pure vigilance. Meanwhile, mine was still devoid of red bars. How was her PipBuck this much better than mine? Or maybe hers was just faulty, since we’d never once been attacked?

My attention was dragged back to the conversation as Banter spoke up, “By the way, how long ago did you two leave the stable?” Iron seemed taken aback by this question. Come to think of it, I’d never asked her why she’d lied about this.

“You knew? And you hired us regardless?” Iron stammered. She never expected ponies to see through her lies, did she? Makes me wonder what else she’s lied about…

“Well, you knew to hide that fact. Means that you either have a lot more common sense than the average stable dweller, or that you’ve already had your trust taken advantage of.” My thoughts darted to Silver, but I chased them to the memory of protecting Iron in the metro instead. I was her protector, and I was strong.

“I… see.” She hesitated. “If I may ask, what is it that gave it away?” Then, before Banter could reply, she added, “We’ve been out here for a bit less than five months.” Another lie, huh?

“The Stable-Tec attire in and of itself isn’t a dead giveaway—especially not around Detrot, given the griffins’ history—but combined with the way you talk, it pretty much is.” Come to think of it, my barding had drawn suspiciously little attention, hadn’t it?

“The way we talk?” I asked, confused.

I was expecting Banter to explain, but instead, Iron told me. “Our speech patterns and pronunciation are much more refined than the average wastelander’s. From what I’ve noticed, at least. Given our education, we probably stand out like sore horns out here, if we talk to someone who knows to look for it.” That did make sense… “However, that raises the question… Banter, your speech mannerisms are also fairly refined, did you also grow up in a stable?”

He shook his head, then lifted his shirt, turning to show us his cutie mark. A single speech bubble adorned his flanks on each side. “Does that answer your question?”

Iron simply chuckled in reply. “I notice you all have cutie marks closely relating to your names, were you just all lucky?”

This time, it was Lockpick, whose cutie mark I noticed to be a padlock with a bobby pin, who answered in her meek voice, “No, we changed our names to match our marks. Helps build trust if ponies remember your name, so it’s a good thing to have a simple name that matches your cutie mark. Banter helped us choose, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow and said, “And what names would you give us? If it isn’t too much effort to come up with them on the spot, that is.”

“Yours is fine. Easy to remember, and it fits with your entire look. Really, a flawless name for a pony like you.” He turned his gaze to Iron. “You… you don’t really have any particular look, so it’s hard to tell. I’d probably just call you after your cutie mark.”

Iron replied, “My cutie mark is a rifle. Similar to the one on my back, but clearly a bigger calibre.” I was surprised that she was showing this much interest in the conversation. She was always so cold and distant when talking to adults, yet clearly had a logical plan for the conversation. I’d made the mistake of assuming she just didn’t care about anyone other than me, but maybe she just needed to meet ponies of our age to start opening up. I did still wish she would be more open with me about her inner thoughts, but I was happy that she at least acted friendly towards new ponies. A step in the right direction.

“I don’t know. Maybe Bolt Action? Iron Sights? Both are alright, and the latter even resembles your given name.” Those did indeed roll off the tongue a bit better, but I still felt like they didn’t fit Iron that well. Maybe I was wrong.

The rest of the evening was spent discussing our cutie marks—a fairly mundane topic, all things considered, but it did help us get a feeling for each other. Banter was pretty open and overall friendly and always seemed to know what to say and how to say it, as illustrated by his cutie mark.

Lockpick seemed reserved, shy, and almost scared of us. She seemed like a good filly, but I suspected she’d been abused. Or maybe she was just introverted by nature. Regardless, when I heard her speak, all I wanted to do was keep her safe and show her kindness. Her cutie mark represented her ability to… pick locks. Shocker.

Petal, on the other hoof, was the opposite of kind. She was reserved, but not in a shy way. She seemed to not care about the world around her in the slightest. Her only remarks were snide and bitter. I hated that bitch. No. She was probably just having a couple of rough days, I shouldn’t be judging her. Her cutie mark was a single cherry petal, that she’d apparently gotten by taking care of the tree near her cottage as a foal.

Neither Iron nor I dared ask what happened to their parents.

Two days later, we were sitting around another campfire, holding a casual conversation. Then, Banter spoke up, “Speaking of bandages, there’s a hospital south of Detrot. From what my source told me, the loot should be pretty good. The only downside, and I presume it’s part of the reason for my source’s claim, is that it’s apparently infested with ghouls. Reason I’m bringing it up is because we’d like your help looting the place.”

“How infested?” interjected Iron. “We’ve dealt with pretty big packs before, but we’ve also had to run away from veritable mobs of those creatures.”

“They didn’t give me exact numbers, but definitely more than what the average scavenger would wanna deal with,” he replied. “Anyway, we’d split the profits with you, as part of your payment, of course.”

Iron and I leaned into each other, and she whispered, “I would be down for it. If they’re willing to risk it, it must be profitable.” I agreed with her, and she fiddled with her PipBuck, before asking Banter, “Would you mind repeating that promise? On the record, this time.”

I walked through the broken door and into the hospital. I’d acted as a decoy and led away a huge crowd of ghouls. A single shotgun shell aimed at the sky, and the entirety of the ferals in front of the building ran after me. Not only that, but a large portion of the mob had seemingly been inside at first. I’d ran for ten minutes before losing them, at which point I made my way back to the clinic.

In the lobby stood a large statue. After moving closer, I recognised one of my personal heroes—Fluttershy. I had a moment of reverence before I turned my attention to something else.

My EFS now showed four green bars, one of them occasionally flickering red—most likely Iron’s. It had a tendency to do that when she was hiding. As I turned to the receptionist’s desk, they came out from hiding, and Iron whispered, “Did you lose them?” I nodded in reply.

Banter then declared, “Good. We didn’t want to start looking through this place without our best fighter, in case there were more of them that hadn’t followed you. Now, we should split up and search the reception area.”

My EFS was empty of threats, but Iron told me there were a few red bars further inside the building. We split off to start looking through the reception. Iron stayed at the receptionist’s deck and started checking inside the drawers, while Petal and Banter each found small rooms they started searching. Petal was scouring what looked like a janitor’s closet, while Banter was in a restroom. I moved towards the waiting room, and noticed that Lockpick was also heading towards that area.

A few skeletons sat on the chairs, while many more bones were scattered on the floor. Lockpick started looking under the seats, finding ancient bags—presumably belonging to the ponies who’d died here when the bombs fell. How many ponies had come here with radiation poisoning in hopes of being saved, only to perish in the waiting room?

Something didn’t add up, however. There were much more bags than there were skeletons. So this was where the ghouls came from. Though I had to wonder—were there more? Ghouls had a tendency to blend in with their surroundings when they weren’t moving, but there were no piles of leaves in here that they could be hidden in, so I wanted to think most of them had followed me out.

I helped Lockpick go through the bags, and we found a number of valuables. Most of it was junk, but we did find a few watches that would supposedly sell well, as well as several types of chems. I didn’t like taking the mint-als, given Iron’s problems, but I couldn’t deny that they would likely sell for a pretty sum. It pained me to leave behind bits, but they were almost entirely worthless at this point. Their only point was for vending machines, and it was generally simpler to just break into those. They weighed just a little too much to be worth it, though keeping a few on oneself was generally a good idea.

Afterwards, we regrouped in the main lobby, and Banter told us, “I think we should split up; I’ll take the third storey, Petal the second, Candy the first, and finally Lockpick and Iron will look through the rest of the ground floor. I know I don’t have to say this, but be careful and stay quiet. We’re going for a superficial sweep first, to see if there are still any dangers. If you find a ghoul in a room, close the door and let Candy deal with it later; she can do it much quieter than us. Any questions?” Nopony had questions. It was only then I noticed both had some pistols attached to their saddlebags, where they could easily grab them with their muzzles.

I climbed my way up the stairs, and momentarily parted ways with the others. This floor was made up of two corridors, and I picked the left one. On both outer sides, doors led to patient chambers, while the rooms between the hallways seemed to be reserved for staff. I decided to focus on the central part, given that most medical equipment was likely stored there.

I went for an open door to my right, but as I trotted past a room, I noticed a brownish pink mass lying on the ground. A ghoul. It didn’t seem to have noticed me, so I enveloped the door with my lavender-pink aura and slowly closed it. Even if I could kill it without firing a gun, smashing a skull wasn’t exactly quiet, either. To my absolute horror, a red bar appeared as the beast woke up, having heard the motion.

A few incredibly tense seconds went by before its marker disappeared. I breathed a sigh of relief as I entered the examination room, closed the door behind me, and started rummaging through the closets. I managed to find several vials of Med-X, a few bottles of antiseptic, packages of gauze, and rolls of bandage—both magical and regular. Was that a shriek I just heard? Anyway, this was a gold mine! If other exam rooms had a similar inventory—

My amazement was cut short by a gunshot, echoing through the corridors. I bolted back into the hallway, noticing too many red bars starting to pop up all around me. I couldn’t see anypony on my floor, so I simply ran towards the stairs. I couldn’t tell where the shot had come from, so I could only hope that by the time I arrived at the stairway, I’d know where I was needed.

Partway to my goal, another shot rang out. This time, I could tell it came from below me. Iron!

Shot after shot rang out as I sprinted downstairs, missing a step and nearly tripping and falling down. Finally, the lower floor came into view, and I saw a mass of brownish pink enclosing on—presumably—Iron, with Lockpick cowering behind her, backs against a wall. I cursed my eyesight as I continued my way downwards. Why were there so many ghouls all of a sudden?

Iron kept mowing down ghouls with what I assumed to be her shotgun, but the blob of ghouls barely shrank, constantly moving forward, completely surrounding them. When I was finally behind the crowd, I noticed something horrifying. More and more were streaming out from the rooms all around the floor. My terror doubled as the gunshot noises changed. Iron is out of ammo. She didn’t have time to reload the shotgun, and she knew it. The shots were starting to get less and less regular, growing increasingly panicked, until they eventually stopped.

I’d failed.

Footnote: Level up!

New Perk: Piercing Strike — Your melee and unarmed attacks ignore 15 points of DT

Skill Note: Unarmed — 100