Chapter 7: Stripes

“My friends and I all learned an important lesson this week: Never judge a book by its cover. Someone may look unusual, or funny, or scary. But you have to look past that and learn who they are inside.”

Sometimes, you just know things. You don’t know how you know; just that what you believe is irrefutably true. That was that feeling I had when the strange insight struck me like a cinder block (pain and revelation included). With perfect clarity I knew that there was something with stripes watching me through a scope. Days spent in Ghoul City had sharpened my sixth sense and it was buzzing.

Perhaps it was irrational suspicion, however better paranoid than dead.

This in mind, I spread my wings and flew straight up. Hammer hadn’t been paying attention and looked around in confusion at my disappearance.

“Ghost? Where’d ya go?” His voice drifted up to me, but I was already hunting. The feeling had given me a general direction. With raptor eyes, I glided quietly, searching for anything out of place. If I were a sharpshooter, where would I set up to watch?

No, no, no, maybe, and… there! I focused on a tall building fragment. The structure had crumbled away until only one corner of it remained upright, the vestiges of four ledges sprouted from the support column like fungal growth. On the topmost shelf was a lump that at a glance might pass for rubble if not for the barrel sticking out over the edge.

The overlook sat perfectly to peer just over the walls of the camp where Hammer was stirring his pot.

Even then I might not have spotted the stalker if the barrel of their gun hadn’t been moving. They must have seen me take off, but not known where I had gone from there. In my haste I had left behind all my guns and knuckle knives and now it was too late to go back and retrieve them.

As softly as I could, I landed behind the prone form. Not delicately enough though.

Faster than I would have believed, the shrouded observer rolled to their hooves, raised the oddly blocky rifle and shot at me. Angry red beams zapped the air, singing my vest as three struck center. An energy weapon! A laser rifle if I had to hazard a guess. The odd thing though, was that the cloaked figure was not wearing the more traditional battle saddle, and actually had the gun in a two hooved grip!

All the better for me.

Into my adversary’s guard I stepped. One claw grabbed right behind the tip of the barrel, shoving it to the side while with my opposite talon I smacked the stock, wrenching it from the cloaked figure’s hold. I spun the weapon around into the crook of my forelimb in a firing position. The sudden shift unbalanced my opponent. Not having the slightest idea how to fire the energy weapon I did the next best thing.

Using a similar motion to my disarming maneuver, I swung the gun back around in a two clawed grip and cracked the butt of the rifle into the stalker’s head. The force of the blow sent them into what remained of the wall. They fell and were still.

For a minute I stood over the fallen, panting and pointing my pilfered firearm. Cautiously, I grabbed the hem of the cloak and yanked it off and rolling my attacker onto their back.

Stripes.

The figure was a zebra. Female too judging by the fairness of her features, the curve of her hips and… Being a gentlegriffin I did not let my gaze linger in other unmentionable places. Even if she was knocked out. She was undeniably exotic though. Light glinted off numerous golden hoops in her ears.

A line of blood trickled down her oddly peaceful visage.

Part of me wanted to ruthlessly end her right then, and many other parts agreed. Something stayed my retribution though, something very simple: Curiosity. I had never seen a live zebra before and there had been very little material about the other side of the war back in the Stable. A hundred questions clamored in my mind, all wanting to spill out at once.

For a moment, standing over the vulnerable striped female, I struggled for a moment with what to do. Curiosity killed the cat, and I was only part cat, so what harm could come from a few questions? That was justifiable, right?

Dilemma aside, I slung the energy weapon over a shoulder, bundled the unconscious zebra in her own cloak and hauled her back to camp. Somewhat gently I set down my captive by the fire and tied her hooves together as best I could. Hammer gave me a strange look as I set down.

“Her, where’d you- what is that? What the hell is that?” He spoke with a surprising amount of vehemence.

“It’s a zebra.”

“I can see that. What’s it doing here? Why isn’t it dead? I thought you were better than this.”

“You though I was better than this? Excuse me? Where the fuck do you get off saying that to me, pony?” Finding my resistance rigid, Hammer switched from forceful to reasoning.

“Ghost, this is a zebra we’re talking about here.” He said, as if that alone should make my course of action obvious. I sat back on my haunches and folded my forelimbs across my chest in a stonewall gesture. This pony was really starting to get my feathers in a bunch.

“I mean come on, they started the war!”

“No they didn’t. War is a mutual state.”

“Think of how many they killed!”

“And how many griffins did your pegasi kill when they annexed our skies and our cities? Hm? How many hatchlings? Well, eggbreaker? Don’t lecture me when your race is just as guilty and do NOT try to wash the blood off your hooves by blaming the zebras.”

“You don’t understand. You’re a griffin.” I growled deep in my throat.

“If you wanna play the blame game you best be prepared to get some too.” Already I was regretting joining up with Hammer. The zebra moaned softly and I used it as an excuse to break off the argument before it could escalate. I patted her cheek with a palm.

“Hey, wake up. I’ve got questions for you.” She muttered something I couldn’t hear and blinked a few times. Hopefully I hadn’t given her a concussion. With a grunt she pulled anxiously at her bindings. Finding little give, the black and white mare gave me an accusatory glare.

“You hit me.” Her voice was just as outlandish as the rest of her, carrying a strange lilting accent. In better times she would have made a good soprano.

“You shot me.” I countered. My nerves were fried, my temper short, and I was in no mood to play games. “I have questions, and you might have answers. If I think you’ve answered truthfully, I’ll let you go. No strings attached.”

“What d’ya mean you’re gonna let’er go?” We can’t just let a zebra go!”

“Hsst! Griffin!” The mare hissed quietly to me. “Whatever this pony is paying you, I’ll pay you double.”

“Why does everyone assume I’m for sale? Look, I’ll say it one more time. Slowly, so maybe it will sink in. I want to know things. Get it? I work for nopony. Ease my curiosity, and we can all be on our merry way.”

“Why should I believe you?” She glared at me, eyes full of suspicion.

“Hey cunt, he’s offering you an out.” Sneered Hammer.

“What a surprise, a pony I would love to vaporize. Come over here and say that, limp-dick!” Hammer looked ready to do just that when I fixed him with my best glare. He subsided with a grumble for the moment.

“Anyway. So first, why were you watching us?” The zebra just glared daggers at hammer. “Hey, focus.” I snapped my talons in front of her face and repeated the question. That just turned her hateful look to me.

“You came out of the MAS facility, so I followed.” She chewed her bottom lip in worry, hesitantly asking her own question. “Did you… See any zebras in there?”

Oh. Things suddenly became much clearer.

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Hammer grumbled something but wisely kept it to himself.

“There were no survivors then?”

“None that I saw.”

“Then you must have found the lost treasure! My squad was tasked with finding-“ She clamped her muzzle shut suddenly.

“I don’t know what you were told, but there was no treasure.” Hammer spoke up suddenly.

“But legend says there’s supposed to be some big trove down there. A cache of pre-war tech, protected by undying guardians or something.” I glanced between the two, both looking at me expectantly.

“There is no treasure, only death. I did find these though.” I played the two recordings, the strange speech floating through the air. The zebra’s face was grim through them, no doubt reminded of her fallen comrades.

“It’s just copies of our orders. They left me to keep lookout. When the rendezvous passed I feared the worst. So, when I saw you go in and come back out I followed you. Are you sure there was nothing?” There was a pleading note in her voice. I weighed the consequences of telling her what I had found. It wouldn’t be fair to lie, not after all this zebra and her fellows had given their lives.

So, I told the banded mare of the burning ones, the ruby, the spirit, and my role in freeing it. That was all though. I left out the spirit’s memories and my strange encounter in the elevator. Both of my hooved listeners hung quietly on the tale. In truth, it felt good to tell. Everything that had happened since Cinder died hadn’t seemed real.

Like I wasn’t really alive anymore, just going through the motions.

“You must come with me!” Announced the zebra upon the completion of the story.

Well, that was certainly a new one.

“You’re not exactly in a position to make demands.”

“Please! Please there must be something. I’ll do anything. Just, please come back with me.” The pleading nature of her tone seemed genuine and made me distinctly uncomfortable. Goddesses I was actually considering it!

“What can you do?”

“I was my squad’s secondary battlefield medic, energy weapons specialist and third class infiltrator.” She reeled off formally. At the mention of a medic my wounds and aching joints reminded me of their presence once more. I considered her offer. There were definite benefits. Truthfully, I wasn’t eager to head into unknown zebra territory at the drop of a hat.

“Tell you what, help Hammer and I rescue his mare, help me locate my mother, and I’ll go back with you to wherever.” Perhaps it was a bit underhanded of me to make Blazing Glory part of the deal, but I could use all the help I could get.

“Done.” Well, that was easier than I thought it would have been. Why didn’t she want to haggle? Or argue the terms at all? “Just untie me for Caesar’s sake.” I lowered myself until my beak was practically touching her nose.

“Do you swear on your honor to these terms?” I didn’t like using intimidation, but I had to be sure. Hammer I could predict, anticipate. This zebra was a wild card. I didn’t know her, didn’t know what drove her other than what seemed to be a sense of duty. Duty I could understand. And it was to her duty that I hoped I now appealed.

It was a gamble surely; however what in life is ever certain?

“I swear.” I watched her say it and saw no lie in her eyes, so I undid her knotted cloak. Hammer muttered something else about cupcakes in the eye I didn’t quite catch as he continued to tend his stew. Cautiously, she stretched and put a hoof to her head with a wince.

In what I hoped was an apologetic gesture I offered a claw and helped her to her hooves. I took it as a good sign that she didn’t immediately go for her rifle still slung over my shoulder.

“I’m Ghost, and the grumbly one over there is Hammer. What’s your name?”

“Zinfandel. My name is Zinfandel.” Mmm, that rolled off the tongue smoothly.

What? Just because she was a zebra didn’t mean she wasn’t a fine looking female. I have needs too you know.

“Well Zinfandel, could you uhh… look at something for me? Seeing as how you’re a medic and all.” Very smooth Ashes, very smooth. She seemed to switch gears, flowing into a doctor like manner.

“What, are you injured? Show me where.”

“I think it would be easier to show you where I’m not hurt.” She took in the sight of me and nodded. I’m sure I wasn’t a pretty sight, from my bandaged talons to the improvised blue of my Stable suit covering the rest of my accumulated bites and scratches. With a grunt I started to divest myself of my bullet proof vest. The outer cloth coating was now singed and torn in many places. Zinfandel tut-tutted a little and poked the thoroughly soiled bandages covering the burn across my chest.

“Ow.” She pulled back her hoof.

“Sorry, lay on your back.” The zebra rummaged around in various pouches I hadn’t noticed around her waist.

“I’d rather not.” With a huff she gave me what seemed to be a well-practiced glare.

“Look, I’m not a fully qualified alchemist but I am a trained medic and have taken my oath to do no harm and help all in need. So I promise you, as a healer, you can trust me.”

“No, I mean my back hurts too.” I turned to show her where sweat and dirt had rubbed the base of my wings raw through the holes in the vest.

“Oh dear, well, let’s take a look at one thing at a time.” With a deftness that surprised me from someone that didn’t have individual digits, she unwrapped my medical bindings, from the bandages to the crude cut blue cloth. I shifted uncomfortably as the open air caressed my raw flesh. “By my stripes, what did this? You’ve got radiation blisters all around this burn. Some of them have popped.” It seemed Zinfandel had slipped into full doctor mode.

“To be fair, I did drop a hospital on it afterwards.” Nearby, I heard Hammer snort a little of his stew.

“Mhm, that’s nice. And what about all these?” Gesturing with a hoof she encompassed some of my more recent gashes. “Did you let a ghoul chew on you?”

“Umm… kinda I guess?” With a ‘tsk tsk’ she set to work on me. From the pouches she applied salves to the various burns, scrapes, cuts, and bites that peppered me like a plague. At first it stung like a bitch, but eventually the medicine began to soak in and took the edge off. At least until she got to one of my back legs.

“Ghost, did you get shot and then use a healing potion with the bullet still inside?”

“Umm… yes?” It must be a rule that to become a medic you had to be able to make your patient feel bad about not following the proper procedure.

“Ugh! You can get lead poisoning, infection, blood vessel rupture or worse!” Damn, feeling guilty already.

“I was gonna get it out eventually…” I said rather lamely.

“Well, the bullet has to come out. Do you have any med-x?”

“I’ve got some in pill form, will that work?” Using my PipBuck I sifted through the various junk I had collected and handed the half-empty bottle to the zebra. She dumped the whole thing into a little bowl and ground it with the tip of a hoof along with a few sprinkles of something until the concoction was a thick paste. Zinfandel applied it liberally to the puckered flesh that had closed around the bullet. In a moment the whole area was distinctly numb.

Then she pulled out a scalpel and forceps. Suddenly very aware of the fact I was trusting a near total stranger with sharp implements to perform minor surgery on me, I closed my eyes and attempted high level algebra. Trust the zebra medic. Yes, trust the mare you only a little while ago knocked out with her own gun.

You can be quiet now analytical part of my brain.

“Just hold still, okay?” Yeah, definitely not thinking about her cutting and digging around in my – shut up brain. It didn’t hurt, but I could still generally feel her reopening the path the bullet had travelled into my calf muscle.

Mmm, synthetic division. Yep, that was her bumping against the bone. Shut up medical knowledge! You’re not helping! Nor was I thinking about the sucking sound of her pulling the chunk of lead out. Nope, not hearing that.

“That’s one; you’ve got another further up.” Oh great. The zebra felt a little higher and I quickly covered myself with my claws, suddenly very self-conscious and not a little embarrassed.

“Nothing wrong right there.” Having grown up with clothing as the norm, I was acutely aware of my bare state. I was confident in the dark, but never exposed or while under scrutiny. My friends had given me the will to go after mares above my station, without them I was just a lone griffin mechanic.

I had never made close friends easily, finding it easier to just go with the flow.

“I’m just checking for any more injury, don’t worry.” I felt my face flush a little that had nothing to do with my burns. After a little more prodding she applied the numbing crème to the other area of ballistic trauma. One more uncomfortable session of flesh digging later she pulled the last bit of lead out of me.

She moved around behind me and applied the rest of the numbing poultice to the base of my wings. With a sigh of pleasure, my feathery appendages unconsciously spread themselves in relief and stood at relaxed attention. Zinfandel made a ‘hm’ sound.

“Why are your wings doing that?” Oh shit, what! I never thought I would live the moment where I wished I had my bindings. It didn’t help that the striped mare proceeded to treat the bullet hole in my right wing. An involuntary moan of pleasure escaped me. I clamped my beak shut and held it that way with a claw as I really started blushing.

“Ha! Wingboner!” poked the pale blue unicorn.

“So, that’s what it’s called.” To my great dismay the zebra giggled.

“And what would you know about it, Hammer?” I snapped back. He snickered and floated a magazine to me. ‘Wingboner Magazine’ had a pegasi mare bent over quite provocatively. The sight served only to stiffen my involuntary external sign of excitement further. Of course I was immensely offended by the sight! That was why I stuffed into my bags for later.

“Boys and their perverted pony poses,” commented Zinfandel. “You’re good to go. I just need to rewrap you. And since I don’t have any new bandages, I’m going to have to boil your old ones.” My relief turned to aggravation as Hammer and the zebra began arguing over use of the fire.

“My stew isn’t done.”

“And I care, why? Looks like you could use a checkup too.”

“Fuck off, stripy bitch.”

“You really are a useless sack of shit, who knew?” They glared at each other over the pot.

“How about I shove my sledge up your ass?”

“A coltcuddler like you has no tact.” I whistled in my head. That was below the belt.

“You wanna say that again, zebra scum?”

“I would, but I’d just be stating a fact.”

The two of them looked ready to tackle each other across the camp when I stepped in. Their arguing was making my head throb. The rhyming wasn’t helping either.

“How about I just start another fire?” Without waiting I grabbed the remains of a wrecked and rotting couch and quickly had another burning stack. Fortunately Zinfandel had her own small pot with which she set some water to boil. I was sure that between the two of them there was enough friction that it would be heated in no time.

To pass the time I flipped through the erotic mag the unicorn had tossed me. Mm, Ashes like. For all my newfound hate for the avian ponies I had to admit, the feathers definitely added a new level of sexy. Next to a pinup of a mare with everything proudly on display there was an insert for a griffiness special edition of the publication.

Note to self: Ponies know how to put out some quality smut.

For a few minutes at least the two were quiet as they tended to their respective brews. After a few minutes Zinfandel came back over to me with a pile of clean bandages and wrapped me back up.

“I soaked these in some healing additives that will make you drowsy. Don’t worry, that’s just the medicine working. You should feel better in the morning.” I nodded my understanding, gathered my things, and hopped up to a protruding ledge.

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust them… Well okay maybe a little distrust. Something just felt right about sleeping higher up, comforting, safer.

“I’m not sleepin’ with her around!” Griped Hammer with an accusatory hoof pointing at the banded mare.

I rolled my eyes and gestured dismissively.

“You two work it out; I’m going to sleep without a doubt.” Fuck, now I was doing it. “Just scream if the ghouls come to eat us.” They continued to bicker below while I made myself comfortable. Unsuccessfully I stifled a yawn as the zebra remedy soaked into my wounds. Curling up, I used my vest and bags as a pillow.

And with no further ado, Luna wrapped me in the quiet nothing of dreamless slumber.

***

For the first time in what felt like days I woke up to relative peace. No ghouls, no crazed slaver ponies, no gunfire, no hellish fires wanting to eat me alive. Only the faint crackle of innocent campfires and what I ascertained to be Hammer snoring softly. Peering down I smiled in faint amusement, seeing both unicorn and zebra having fallen asleep watching the other from across the camp.

I shook off the layer of ash that had fallen on me as I slept.

With a thorough cracking of joints I rose to my feet and tested my limbs. Ah, it was much easier to breathe and stretch my wings. It was still hard to move my talons dexterously; then again at least they hurt less. The rest coupled with some real medical attention had done me wonders. I could have used another few days of the same treatment, nevertheless at the moment; things were starting to look better. Prudently, I put on my battered vest, and jumped down from my nesting spot.

As far as I could tell it was morning, being sort of lighter than it had been. I added more wood to the glowing coals and shook the two awake. Grumbling, they rubbed the sleep out of their eyes and glowered evilly at one another. The tension was thick enough to cut and serve on toast.

“I’m going to scout ahead, you two wait here… or something.” I announced without preamble. It would be judicious to at least survey the school before charging in guns blazing.

The air above the city was starting to clear. I could actually see more than fifty feet in front of me and only a few specks of ash still lazily drifted down. There was no feeling like flying. Knowing that there are no walls, no ceiling. Just over a week ago I could only have dreamed of this feeling, this unfettered flight. Ah, if only I could go as high as I wanted.

I soared over buildings, cutting a route straight to the edge of the city.

***

Southvale Elementary was honestly just another broken building among a sea of decrepit architecture. What it did have was an open yard littered with chunks of rubble in front of it, providing the defenders with a clear field of view that could easily be turned into a killing ground. That’s what I’d do.

Flying carefully, I circled around, noting the pair of ponies at the front gate pretending to be guarding while they played some kind of dice game. At least I had one thing going for me, in a world with pegasi long gone nopony thought to look up anymore. At the back of the school was an old playground and some back doors. Score.

If we could get in, and back out without getting drawn into anything major, that would be ideal. Maybe it was just my newfound aversion to being shot talking. With this in mind, I flew back to camp.

***

Normally, I would have been the last one awake. In truth, I was eager to be done with this blighted city and all the memories it held. Death and the dead alike wafted through the streets and down the sidewalks. My wings ached for the wide open spaces.

A balm for the grief still gnawing at my bones.

Focus!

Hammer and Zinfandel were still waking up so I just paced and fidgeted, flicking my lighter. Finding this highly unproductive, I sat down and organized the disparate junk I’d collected. This hardly took any time at all due to my Pipbuck having sorted it already (Really? How hard were lunch boxes and sensor modules to find? Boy could I use a smoke). There was one thing though that I had nearly forgotten about.

It was the zebra assault weapon I had recovered. At the time I had grabbed it because it was the most intact. Damn this thing was long! Briefly I wondered how it had fit in my saddlebags… Hm, well there was that one time I found a broom stuffed in a toolbox so I suppose it wasn’t too strange.

I visually tuned out the unknowable zebra attachments and just focused on the normal parts of the gun. Shit, the entire bolt and most of the receiving mechanism was trashed. The firing pin could use replacing too. There was still a magazine jammed in that I had to pry loose. Jeez, what was this thing chambered for? With a screwdriver I carefully worked the bent cartridge out and made sure no round was left in the breach.

Oh my feathers, the box mag had .308 rifle bullets! I couldn’t help it, I recalled the damage my bolt-action rifle had done and drooled a little. Eagerly, I unscrewed the barrel and sighted down it. Yep, that was unbent, and the rest of the gun seemed alright as well. The stock was solid, and the trigger seemed in order. There was no salvaging the receiver though. It would need fresh parts if the automatic rifle were ever to fire again.

I pictured the matte black firearm intact and felt my wings trying to stand at attention once more.

There was still the enigmatic nature of the zebra components though. The long cylindrical contraption on top looked to be a scope, but when I looked through it there was nothing to see. Fiddling with the knobs and dials did nothing. The biggest mystery though was the series of transistor-like protrusions that ran down the length of the barrel, connected by various wires that had come loose in several places.

Fortunately I had a zebra near at hand.

“Hey Zinfandel, what does this stuff do?” She yawned and looked at the rifle cradled in my lap. A pained look crossed her features. Pangs of guilt flitted through me, making me realize that it was a rather callous thing to do seeing as I had looted it off one of her dead squad mates.

“That, is a variable magnification scope with low-light vision enhancement.” One point of success to me. “And that,” she swept a hoof to indicate the other unknown parts. “Is the weapon enhancement mechanism. As the bullet travels down the barrel, it is imbued with whatever effect the enchantment matrix is constructed for. If I remember right, those are cryogenic coils.”

I gave a low whistle, these zebra knew how to make a gun I gave them that.

“And what about this?” I poked a strange bar sticking out parallel to the stock.

“That, is a carrying handle.”

“Oh.” I grinned sheepishly before turning it over in my talons. My smile faded though. “Zinfandel, I know it’s broken, but do you want it? I could fix it up if I had another automatic for parts.” I looked at her seriously. Now it was her turn to smile.

“That thing kicks like a beast, and bullets were never my forte. You keep it, Ghost. Thank you for the offer though.” Quickly though the mare adopted a look of consternation. “Speaking of guns however, can I have mine back now?”

Oops.

Embarrassed and with more apologies, I gave Zinfandel back her energy weapon. To my surprise she gave a little squeal and hugged it. There was a tense moment as she held it up and sighted down the length at hammer. “Pew, pew,” she said before slinging it over her back. I suppose if she had really wanted to kill him she would have done it while he slept.

I was still unsure of this zebra, but she loved her laser rifle, and fondness of ordnance I could understand.

The pale blue unicorn lifted his head (finally, but who was I to judge?) groggily as I packed away the broken gun.

“Mornin’, what’s fer breakfast?”

“Nice bedhead, Hammer.” I stifled a laugh at the pony’s ridiculous mane. With a bit of magic he turned his cowlick into a mohawk.

“Better? Wait, wait, hold on!” Then his white mane was standing in all directions as if electrified. Even Zinfandel tittered a little.

***

Soon after, we set out towards the school. We moved quickly and quietly. I guided us using my PipBuck’s automap function on a route that would hopefully lead us to the back of Southvale. We did run into a few snags along the way though.

There was a detour through an old building according to my map that would save a good half hour of trekking around a collapsed block of the city. Inside it was black as pitch and before I could switch on my light I felt someone tumble into me with a cry. The three of us ended up jumbled together in the dark.

“Ow, wing!” I said as a hoof stepped on some of my feathers.

“Sorry! Watch it.” There were a few more grunts and ‘oofs!’ as ribs were jabbed and limbs tangled. Then there was a particularly high pitched squeak followed by a muffled shout. Finally I managed to reach my PipBuck light and the sudden illumination momentarily blinded me.

I stood to find Hammer and Zinfandel both pointedly not looking at each other. The zebra was blushing so hard she seemed on the verge of spontaneous combustion and the unicorn wore a look of horror as he scraped his tongue with his hooves.

Had his mouth gone where I think it had?

Hammer pulled out of a bottle likely alcoholic, took a hefty swig, swished it, and spat.

I’d take that as a yes.

***

Passing an old, rusted swing set, a breath of wind pushed the timeworn seat and set it creaking. It was a sorrowful note. In that span of an instant, a fragment of what sounded like merry youth seemed to lie beneath the surface of reality. I shook my head to clear it of the phantom and resumed sneaking through the old playground.

For a moment I had heard foals laughing.

Behind me crept my two companions, both still pointedly not making eye contact. It seemed the raiders, or gangers or whoever these ponies were hadn’t anticipated any opposition other than mindless ghouls. There weren’t guards, but the back door was locked. I let out an annoyed grunt and was about to move to another entrance when Zinfandel crouched down and pulled something out of her cloak.

Leaning in with interest, I saw her insert a bobby pin into the lock and turn it with her teeth. She maneuvered the lock into various positions until it opened with a click. I’ll admit, I was impressed, zebra infiltrator indeed.

The striped mare pushed the door open and we slipped through.

Inside was little better than the rest of the city I had explored. The tile was cracked, the walls peeling, and innumerable lockers were twisted or hung open. The corridors ran off in many directions and I wasn’t at all sure which way Ravelin might be. I consulted with Hammer and he had no idea either, just that she must be somewhere in the school.

Straight in seemed as good a direction as any, so that’s where we headed, checking many empty classrooms along the way. After about a half hour, there was still no sign of anypony.

As I rounded a corner, I came beak to nose with a stunned looking pony wearing the standard raider hairdo. It was my own damn fault for not paying close enough attention to my EFS. He was about to cry out when I pecked as hard as I could straight into his left eye. Spitting curses and clutching his bloody socket I grabbed the purple buck and hauled him around the corner.

With a solid headlock I bore the raider to the ground and pinned him there. Opportunity abounded it seemed.

“Where’s Ravelin?” I punctuated my request with a squeeze that made his eyes bulge.

“Go fuck yourself.” Hammer levitated a revolver out and pressed the barrel into the buck’s remaining eye.

“Where is she?” The unicorn drew the firing lever for emphasis. This was a side of Hammer I hadn’t seen even with Zinfandel.

He growled and spat out, “Upstairs,” I could have guessed that one. The raider used my slightly slackened grip and slammed the back of his head into my chin. Stunned, he threw me off and ran back around the corner, screaming that there were intruders. Bullets from Hammer’s gun chased him.

So much for doing this quietly.

The unicorn raced around the wall, cracking off a few more shots. Zinfandel helped me to my feet and together we caught up with Hammer Horn. We three chased after the fleeing pony, the zebra bringing him down with a bolt of magical energy to a leg. The stallion was first to catch up and executed the fallen with a brutal finality as he tried to crawl away.

A trio of hostiles appeared down the hall, the lead opening up with a submachine gun. I hit the deck as a spray of bullets filled the air. Fortunately most of the shots went into the ceiling as the raider couldn’t fully control the recoil. Hammer had the bright idea of tipping one of the sets of lockers onto its side for cover.

I hunkered next to him and motioned for Zinfandel to join us as well. Crouched behind the metal barricade, we returned fire, making our opponents duck and find their own shelter. Bullets sparked and panged against the shield. With a trio of tightly grouped shots from my 10mm I downed submachine pony while they reloaded. Another disintegrated into pink goo from a lucky magical death beam as they leaned out behind a door.

With a crazed cry the last pony standing leapt over our cover in a single bound, knife poised to slit Zinfandel’s throat. Mid-jump, a sledgehammer impacted the stallion with enough force to send him into the overhead light fixture. If he wasn’t dead at that point, the stomach-turning crunch when he hit the locker blockade head first sealed the deal.

The zebra nodded in gratitude, and Hammer returned it. Maybe the roots of hatred went deep, but at that moment, we were in this together, and would get out alive by watching each other’s backs. There was a lesson in there somewhere I’m sure.

As I walked by, I grabbed the submachine gun, bullet hose though it may have been. Goddesses, had looting my enemies really become enjoyable? The appalled feeling may have lingered too, if I hadn’t found three additional clips for the spray and pray firearm.

I saw Hammer and Zinfandel searching their respective kills as well.

Weapons out, we found the staircase the trio had originated from. Hammer led the way, floating his sledge. I followed, pistol held ready while Zinfandel brought up the rear. It was a little strange to see anyone other than a griffin walking on their hind legs, but the zebra managed to do it with little apparent effort.

The top of the stairs was clear, so we pushed on. There were only a few more empty classrooms and equally empty offices. Just as I started to grow worried that somewhere we had taken a wrong turn, we reached a door that my EFS painted with two red bars… and a green! There were heated voices coming from the room marked ‘Principal’.

“On three.” I whispered as the unicorn and zebra took positions beside the door.

“One.” My muscles tensed, and Hammer raised his sledge.

“Two.” Zinfandel brought her blocky weapon up to her chest.

“Three!” I threw open the door and engaged SATS.

In the grip of temporal targeting spell, I pulped the head of the pony waving the shotgun around. He didn’t even have time to look my way. There was enough charge to fire twice at the other’s head as well, a hulking brute of a unicorn. The pistol rounds hit his spiked metal helm and deflected harmlessly aside. As the spell faded and my backup pushed in behind me, the massive stallion ducked behind the desk and came back up with a mare. He had his forelegs crossed in front of her, holding the struggling brown earth pony by the neck.

She had an odd V shape for a cutie mark I noted.

The dull green buck wore power hooves on all four appendages, his front two sparking menacingly close to Ravelin’s face. He was covered from head to hoof in articulated, interlocking, polished steel armor. An interesting level of craftsmanship had gone into it, probably custom.

“Let ‘er go.” Hammer said at my shoulder.

“You stop right there or I’ll snap her like a toothpick,” commanded the cowardly bastard. Backing away to a side door with his hostage held close, he fixed me with a level stare down the sights of my gun and the guns of my fellows. For the span of several tense seconds, our weapons followed him out the emergency exit. Come on SATS, recharge faster! The massively armored brute kicked the door shut in our collective faces.

What hurt the worst was the pleading look Ravelin had given me as tears streamed from her soft green eyes. I slammed into the door at lightning speed to no avail; it had been jammed closed.

“Fuck!” I railed. Full of impotent rage I rounded on Hammer. “Why didn’t you tell me she was pregnant?!” More than even her tears had been the distinctly rounded nature of her belly. There was no mistaking the sight of a mare with her foaling only a few weeks at most away.

“What did it matter? That was Feral Hoof, one of Ragtag’s. We can’t let him get her back to The Jag!” He snapped back. Zinfandel barged past both of us and started to pick the exit door. I hovered right next to her, after a little fiddling she shook her head in defeat.

“It is no good; it is blocked from the other side.” With a shout Hammer slammed his blunt weapon against the offending blockage. Despite his frightening strength, it dented, but budged hardly an inch.

“Ghost, we gotta circle back around, there must be a way past where we can catch ‘em.” A quick consultation of my automap crushed that hope. We would have to go all the way back to our original entry and go around the whole school.

No! This was Cinder all over again! Not only had I failed my own sister, I was about to fail someone else’s too. Not again, not again! We were so close! In strangled helplessness I slammed my fist against the closest wall.

… Wait.

Maybe.

Just, maybe.

I rapped my claw twice more against the brick, feeling what only a griffin with a pedigree in engineering who had lived his whole live surrounded by stone barriers could feel. For all the sturdiness of the door, the rest of the architecture didn’t measure up. Ugh, if only I had some shaped explosives.

Or a wrecking ball in unicorn form!

“Hammer!” I patted the wall. “Hit this. Hit this as hard as you can. Harder than anything you’ve hit before in your life!” The light blue stallion looked how I felt. He wasn’t about to let Ravelin be dragged away. With a shout, he smashed his weapon against the brick. Dust from pulverized brick puffed around the head of the sledge.

“Again!” I cried in encouragement. Horn ablaze in arcane energies, the unicorn wound up and struck the cracked divide once more. With a groan, a teetering section of the wall fell in, landing with a deafening crash. Loose blocks tumbled around the opening with clacks.

To my surprise it was Zinfandel through the breach first, the hood of her cloak pushed back. “Over here!” She called back to Hammer and I as we leapt through the formerly intact wall. The zebra ran full pelt to another closed portal further on. “I just saw this one shut.” Ravelin must have been putting up quite a fight, slowing down her captor.

The zebra set about picking the lock once more as I watched on, practically vibrating with the need to hurry. She cursed under her breath when two of her bobby pins broke. I was about to ask Hammer to repeat his wall trick when the banded mare cried out in success. She threw the door open and rolled through. I was hot on her tail and took in the sight before me in a blink.

The door led out to a walkway with a railing set at the top of a set of bleachers cascading down to an old gymnasium. Feral Hoof continued to drag a kicking and cursing Ravelin across the old indoor hoofball court to an exit at the far end. He spotted us and shouted at the group of ponies milling about a group of bedrolls and a campfire.

“Kill ‘em!” I was acutely aware of five pairs of angry eyes turning to look our way. Shots stuttered up, making me duck. Zinfandel and I returned fire while our unicorn companion took a ready stance to repel anypony that tried to charge up the bleachers. I emptied the clip in my pistol and didn’t bother to reload, switching instead to my newly acquired submachine gun. It was light enough to be fired in a single talon, but two would be more accurate.

I gave the trigger a quick squeeze. A third of the entire clip was emptied out, peppering the raiders down below with a storm of hot lead. None of my shots made contact yet it definitely sent the wiser among them scrambling. The zebra next to me picked her targets more carefully, sending selective beams of searing death and earning first blood with a well-placed hit.

We had a deadly advantage with our elevated position, however we were still stuck in a time consuming firefight. Feral Hoof had used the delay and had almost made it to the door. In that moment, I made an incredibly rash, and very stupid decision.

I charged.

With a shout and a flap, I soared down the bleachers and took a firing stance. Two blurts of rapid-fire perforated a pair of ponies. They jerked and twitched as blood filled the air. With a weapon like that, I really didn’t have to aim, just point it in their general direction. A sledge in a blue glow narrowly missed a raider coming to my left that signaled Hammer had joined the fray. Multi-colored magical laser strikes brought the spear-wielder down.

“You stole my kill!” The unicorn shouted with indignation.

“Too slow,” taunted the zebra from the balcony.

Something powerful struck my vest, nearly spinning me around and putting painful pressure on my bandaged torso. I reloaded and returned the favor to the offending pistol-mare. With the last raider down, I pursued Feral out the door.

The exit opened to the large field situated in front of the school. The bruiser of a stallion saw me behind him and struggled to toss Ravelin over his back. Flailing, the mare didn’t make it easy. Feral Hoof tossed her on the ground. She let out a cry and curled protectively around her belly as he made to kick her. That was when I ploughed into him.

Ouch. Future note to self: tackling a pony with more metal than morals is a painful ordeal.

Together we tumbled a few feet, Feral struggling to right himself in all that gear. A few shots from Zinfandel’s rifle actually reflected away harmlessly! Hammer aimed a strike at the pony’s head. The brute deflected the blow with his crackling power hooves, sending the blunt weapon spinning away. While distracted, I used the chance to leap from behind and stab my knuckle blades towards his ribs.

There was a loud ping, followed by a snap as the sharpened steel jutting from my left fist broke about half way down. Dumbfounded, I was left holding the pieces. Not fooled easily, the stallion whipped around, forcing me to dance back out of reach.

“Hammer! Zinfandel! Get her out of here!” I gestured to Ravelin, still curled up in the dead grass and ducked another sparking hoof. “Head out of the city, I’ll find you.” My unicorn companion nodded and wrapped the pregnant mare in a telekinetic glow, lifting her gently. The zebra loosed a few more shots at Feral and slung her rifle over a shoulder. She drew a pistol and ran to deal with the pair who had been guarding the gates.

Heh, she had had a spare gun hidden the whole time.

Ragtag’s lieutenant saw the blue unicorn grab his captive and his own horn lit up, trying to wrestle with the other’s magic. For a moment, it seemed the green stallion would win out over the smaller cobalt one. At least until I lifted Hammer’s hammer and swung it with all my might into Feral’s head. I had the mallet, and his noggin was the croquet ball. The sound was like a bell as his metal clad skull bounced off the ground.

Shit, that thing was heavy, and I tossed it back to its rightful owner. My respect for Hammer increased as he caught the weighty weapon effortlessly while still carrying Ravelin. A soft cry came from a zebra throat and my attention was wrested to Zinfandel as she struggled to deal with the last guard.

I was just about to fly to her aid when Feral Hoof came back up screaming, kicking at me in apoplectic rage. Blood flew from his snout. He caught me off guard and managed to land a glancing blow to my forelimb. Before then I hadn’t understood the full force and function of power hooves. The magical discharge was both electrically and kinetically enhanced I discovered as my left leg went completely numb in flaring, muscle seizing pain.

Hammer Horn moved to help but I waved him away and pointed to Zinfandel. “Go help her! Get them both out!” Fortunately the unicorn didn’t argue and galloped away with a quick nod. My view was suddenly obscured by Feral Hoof pivoting in front of me.

What in the hells was he-

Both of his rear legs shot out fast enough for my eyes to widen and for a single adrenaline fueled thought to flicker by me.

Fuck.

I wasn’t really aware of the impact itself.

As I soared through the air by a force other than my wings, I will admit there was perhaps one other consideration that occurred. What I wouldn’t give for a set of those things. Just because I was about to confront certain doom didn’t mean I couldn’t admire a fine piece of weaponry.

Oh look, the ground.

Rolling, and catching every rock and bump along the way, I came to rest. First I tried to stand. My legs disagreed. For a moment I argued with them, trying to convince them of the necessity of movement. Stubborn legs, obey your master!

Where was I again?

Right, imminent death.

Blinded by his anger at my assault on his head, Feral Hoof decided I was a better target than my companions. That was perfect except that he was about to crush me like a griffin sized bug. I had enough sense left to roll out of the way and take to the air. He had other ideas.

His magic wrapped around my tail and yanked me back to earth. I let out a surprised squawk as the force contradicted my direction and momentum. Scrambling to get out of the way I narrowly avoided becoming power hoof paste. I did my best to counter attack and my reward was another broken knuckle duster.

The dirty green unicorn roared in inarticulate bloodlust and charged me again.

There was a time for honorable combat, for hoof against talon. Now was not one of those times. I had obligations and had made promises that I would follow. With a fresh clip, I aimed my ten millimeter submachine gun and held the trigger down fully. In about two seconds, it clacked on empty.

Feral Hoof screamed in pain and staggered, a few rounds having caught weak points and one scoring across his face, popping one eye like a grape. In the time it took me to reload he downed a healing potion and injected three different needles into his leg.

That wasn’t fair.

Every wound closed and he laughed with renewed vigor as the chems did their work. His eye even grew back! I hosed him down again, but the injuries fixed themselves faster than I could inflict them. He waded through the storm of lead and swatted me like a cat would a troublesome mouse.

I had hurt him, and now he was going to play with me before the killing blow. Okay, it was now time for a tactical retreat. If I could get out of range of his magic I may perhaps just fly away! I had lost sight of Hammer, Ravelin, and Zinfandel so all I had to do was break away.

Fuckfuckfuck! My mind was filled with a continuous tirade of expletives as I ran full pelt in the opposite direction. At random, I picked a side street and dodged between rusted automatic carriages, trying to shake my opponent’s line of sight. Already my strength was flagging, my every move slowing. I ducked behind a small personal wagon and tried to catch my breath. Peeking through the broken windows there was no sign of Feral Hoof.

A growl from behind was my only warning. With scant inches to spare I jumped over the wagon, Hoof crumpling the door to the vehicle instead of my face. Mother fucker was toying with me! Maybe my rifle with armor piercing rounds would have enough power to punch through the metal clad bastard.

As I ran, I spotted my salvation.

Sending a quiet prayer skyward to Luna, Celestia, or whatever divine being may be listening, I flew straight forward as fast as my wings would carry me. Feral Hoof was yelling and laughing right behind me and didn’t notice the pit. Glancing back over my shoulder, I watched him tumble to the bottom of the previously fire filled chasm that had split the street.

For once, Ghoul City proved to be my savior.

Unsurprisingly, the bastard survived his little misstep and tried to scramble back up, but the sides were too sheer for him to scale the thirty feet necessary to escape. I hovered high above, well out of range of his telekinetic grasp, and gave him my best shit-eating grin. With a flippant salute I flew off in the direction my companions had gone.

I was alive, and he was stuck in a crater.

And you know what? I was okay with that.

***

I found them on a road heading vaguely north east out of the city. The air outside the urban corrosion was so very clear. I felt like I could see for miles.

Hammer spotted me first and waved his front hooves frantically to get my attention. Maybe I would have taken more time to enjoy the elevated view I had if there weren’t more pressing matters. There is no feeling like flying in the open sky, nothing comparable. The subject could fill a hundred books and still those without wings would never understand.

I landed with a little tired effort on the old asphalt road and folded my feathery appendages. The blue unicorn was bleeding from a gash across his forehead but he grinned at me nonetheless.

“Still alive I see. You take care of Feral Hoof?” I shook my head and told him what happened. Hammer laughed, “Serves him right.”

“How’s Ravelin?” Hammer Horn’s good mood faltered and he gestured to where Zinfandel was tending to the expecting mare. She was propped against a chunk of concrete, packed with a few blankets one of them had managed to find.

Through a force of will that made me wish for half her strength, Ravelin smiled weakly up at me.

“So this is the griffin I’ve heard so much about. Thank you, for saving me and my child.” The brown mare had a lovely golden mane, lustrous even in through the dust.

“It’s no big deal; Hammer was the one who roped me into it.” I didn’t feel right taking credit for the rescue. If I had really done a good job she wouldn’t have been dragged at power hoof point through the school. “Are you holding up alright?”

“Thanks to your zebra friend, I’m in good hooves.” Zinfandel seemed just as uncomfortable with the praise and busied herself with wrapping up one of the mare’s legs.

“She got hit by one of the guards while we ran. I got the bullet out and she should recover. They worked her over pretty bad, and she’s malnourished, but the baby is fine as far as I can tell.” The striped medic looked up at me. “She’s in no state to be travelling though. There’s no way she would make it all the way back to Rust Town in her condition.”

“We can’t stay here, Ragtag is sure to have ponies coming to collect her and move her to the next spot.” added Hammer.

“I will not be a hostage any longer!” The pregnant mare tried to get to her hooves but Zinfandel held her down. “My foal will not be used as blackmail. He’s been trying to get to Rust Town for years, and through me he can get to my sister.” I gave her a questioning look when she settled down. “She’s the mayor of Rust Town.”

Ah yes, Hammer had mentioned that now that I recalled.

“Can’t stay here, and she can’t travel on her own.” I gave it some thought. “What about a wagon?” Zinfandel frowned.

“I don’t want to move her at all, but… if we have to then yes, that would be best.” I nodded.

“On my way over I spotted some further down the road.” With a general consensus reached, we set out, Ravelin once more cradled in silver magic. There were a lot of ifs in the plan, but it was better than waiting there or splitting up to go for help.

Outside of the city I was again struck by just how BIG the world was. The buildings dwindled away near the outskirts and gave way to scraggly vegetation and the long road. There was a sign marred by graffiti, and still legible was ‘Now Leaving Baltimare’.

Sure enough, there was an abandoned convoy of military wagons. I brushed away some dirt and saw M.A.S. stamped in faded purple lettering across one. I turned to look back at the city. They must have been leaving as the bombs fell.

A massive red, bubble like shield flowed up from the center of the metropolis. In horror I watched a glowing green light travelling at supersonic speeds impact the top of the shield. Huge plumes of emerald fire writhed from the point of impact, beating at the barrier. The balefire would not be denied however and it spread to cover the crimson magic, suffusing into it. Cracks spread from the detonation area and with a deafening sound the shield fragmented. Glowing shards, the size of city blocks rained upon Baltimare.

And the red fires burned…

I shook my head to clear it, feeling a throbbing migraine starting to encroach. That must have been something left over from Synthesis, or the fire spirit. There was a pony skeleton in the driver’s seat of the vehicle. Poor soul had probably been caught in the radiation backwash from the explosion.

“Hey, what’s the deal with these things? There’s no place to hitch up.” stated Hammer, quizzically trying to locate the struts for a pony to attach themselves. The convoy was made of boxy, gunmetal things. Each had four thick doors that could be opened for shields, four heavy rubber tires, and a top hatch that could have a pintle gun mounted.

“That’s because these are self-propelled. With the advent of internal arcane matrix engines, the military was able to put locomotive power into a smaller package. It just didn’t make sense to have ponies rushing headlong into enemy fire in front of the armored vehicle. I’m guessing these are Workhorses. Developed by the MWT to serve multiple roles as general purpose medium armored cavalry support, troop and hardware transport.”

All three of them gave me looks. “What? I like technological histories.”

“So, finding a wagon is a bust then. There is no way any of these things are still running.” Now it was my turn to grin.

“Not true, Zinny.” The glower the zebra gave me of my use of nick name could have curdled milk. Respectfully I opened the door to the vehicle and pulled out the skeleton. After a little fiddling I found the right lever to open the hood of the engine housing. “If anything, it makes this much easier, for you see…” I scanned the inside of military hardware, comparing it to my own knowledge of Stable 57’s generator.

“Aha!” I cried in triumph and pointed to a fist sized emerald wrapped in a gold fixture. Even Ravelin peeked over my shoulder from Hammer’s back in interest. “That’s an auto-repair talisman. They made big ones to put in tanks. You could blow them into pieces and as long as the repair talisman had juice it would bring the whole thing back together like new. They were so successful they were installed in pretty much all big hunks of military hardware.”

“So does that mean that all of these should have repair talismans?” asked the zebra.

“They should. And if one of them has one that still works that means all the power in it hasn’t been used up because the vehicle is in operational condition and the engine should start.” Together we checked the other four vehicles. I held out a small hope of finding some military tech. Sadly, they had sat there for two hundred years’ worth of scavengers to pick them over so it was a vain wish.

It wasn’t until I popped open the hood of the last Workhorse that I finally found a repair talisman with a little feeble glow. Murmuring sweet nothings to the spirit of the machine I sat down behind what I guessed was the steering wheel. It had a trio of hoof sized holes so even earth ponies could operate it. After a little searching I found the key still in the ignition switch. Who would want to take the key to something broken after all?

Yes, I knew the mechanisms of self-propelled military wagons. That’s what I got for being bored between work orders in the part of my Stable with only technical books to read.

I twisted the key, listening as the engine started to turn over, almost began to rev up, and then die with a pathetic cough. Oh come on, come on, come on. I rotated the key again. Nothing. Once out I found the source of the problem. The Talisman had stopped glowing.

“Shit! Start, you piece of garbage!” I kicked a tire in frustration.

“Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if we found a skywagon? Cause you’re a griffin Ghost, you could just fly us around!” said Hammer excitedly. I snorted at the thought.

“Yeah, let me build us a rocket to the moon while I’m at it. I’ll personally give my technician’s license to anypony who can fix a skywagon. That doesn’t help us right now though. I need a way to recharge the damn thing or find a new one.”

“Hey, Ghost, what about there?” I followed Zinfandel’s pointing hoof to a building set off the main road with a big sign. ‘Crooked Axle’s Garage’ and as ever my PipBuck gave an omniscient little chirp and added it to my map. Hey, it was worth a shot. Ravelin was loaded into the back of the Workhorse with all the cushioning material we had so she could rest. Together, Hammer and I pushed the not-quite-functioning vehicle towards the shop.

I put on the brakes outside the closed entrance to the repair bay, my sore legs grateful that it hadn’t been far.

With a pistol drawn, I walked around and opened the front door. My EFS was clear, but better safe than sorry. Inside was a waiting room with a counter and an old register. Behind the counter was an old safe that had been cleaned out and two doors. One led to the garage area proper while the other was locked. Why hit the safe and not the door? Another mystery of the wasteland I supposed. I called for Zinfandel who set to work on the tumblers while I opened the big sliding shutter so Hammer could move the Workhorse inside.

After a minute or two the zebra came into the workshop. “The door is unlocked, looks like a storeroom of some kind. I saw spare tires and the like.” She then climbed into the back of the transport to check on Ravelin. I gestured for Hammer Horn to come with.

The back of the shop was cramped with metal shelves lined with various spare engine parts, tools, and rubber tires of different sizes. I told the blue unicorn what we were looking for and together we searched. As we went I made sure to grab any items that would help me uncouple the old talisman or maybe recharge it. There was a promising portable generator in the corner but the little fuel needle was in the red.

In the very back was a tiny office just big enough for both of us to squeeze into. On the desk was a glowing terminal. Practically holding my breath I flicked it on.

Fuck.

Password protected of course. Futilely, I chose random phrases until it locked me out and refused further tampering. I was about ready to put a bullet through the damn thing when I noticed a small pile of packages in the corner. On top was a clipboard with a shipping manifest. Right beneath was a tiny box wrapped in brown paper. Inside, glowing strong, was a fresh emerald wrapped in shining gold filigree.

My joy was infectious and Hammer let out a whoop of victory. We hurried back and I set about detaching the dead repair gem from the heart of the complicated system of pistons and gears. It would take a little while, but soon we would be leaving in style.

Zinny jumped from the back of the Workhorse and promptly started arguing with Hammer. It seemed saving each other’s skins had lessened, but not eliminated the animosity each held for the other.

I tried to ignore the noise, I did. But they were spoiling my enjoyment of a fine piece of arcano-tech so I suggested they go check around the building. They ignored me until I hit them both in the head with well-aimed wrenches. Still bickering and now rubbing sore spots, the pair headed outside. I let out a sigh of relief at the quiet their absence left.

“Do they always argue like that?” Ravelin leaned her head out one of the rear windows and smiled at me. A little surprised, I nearly hit my beak against the housing I was trying to decouple.

“For as long as I’ve known them.” The golden haired mare giggled.

“Nice throw by the way, they're lucky it wasn’t anything heavier.”

“It comes from practice. Tossing uncooperative parts across the room alleviates stress after all.” Ravelin laughed aloud and I found myself grinning too. “So, have you picked out a name?”

“If it’s a girl, Redoubt, a boy, Rampart. It’s a bit of a family tradition. That’s what Barbed Wire would have wanted.”

“Is he…?”

“Yes, he was the father. Ragtag’s underlings killed him when they caught me.” She said in a mournful tone. Even with the somber note, the conversation was pleasant. It felt good to talk as I fixed the big machine.

“I understand. I’ve lost family too: My father Soot, my sister Cinder. My mother Blazing Glory is somewhere out there I hope though. I actually wanted to go to Rust Town to try and find her. Hammer said he’d take me there if I helped him save you.”

“Blazing Glory? She’s your mom, really? I met her a long time ago.” My mind came to a screeching halt as I lifted the old repair talisman out of its housing. I put it aside and took a deep breath to calm down.

“You met her? You actually met her? Alive?”

“I only saw her once a few years ago, you should ask Sheriff Dusky he- Hnnh!” She cried out in pain.

“Ravelin, what’s wrong?” I ran around the side and opened the door. The mare was lying curled on her side, eyes closed and jaw clenched tight. I touched her brow and found it slick with sweat.

“It’s coming!”

Oh no. No, not now.

I rushed to the other side of the wheeled vehicle and opened the opposite door. Touching a claw to the blankets between her legs I found them awash with thick fluid. Oh fuck, her water had broken. All the stress and shock had pushed her into premature contractions.

“Zinfandel!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. The zebra and unicorn rushed in before I even had time to call again.

“Ghost! We’ve got a serious problem.” said Hammer.

“I’ve got a bigger one. Ravelin is going into labor. The baby is coming now!”

“What?!” cried the striped mare as she pushed past me to tend the mother-to-be. Before I could follow her the unicorn grabbed my shoulder with a hoof.

“Ya know how I said there’d probably be another group comin' to move Ravelin to their next base?”

“Let me guess, they’re here.”

A voice boomed from outside.

“Listen up you cunts! You’ve got exactly one minute t’hand the bitch over t’us before we come get 'er ourselves!” To punctuate the speaker’s point a few shots pinged off the metal garage door. Well, at least they wanted their mark alive.

“Ayep.” I gave him my hunting rifle and the few spare rounds of ammo I had for it.

“Hold ‘em off. I just need to get the new talisman in place.” The unicorn nodded and ran behind the counter in the front room. That taken care of I grabbed the new emerald, giving the magical device a quick kiss for luck and put it in the empty slot.

“C’mon girl, work for me.” I fiddled with a few connections, trying to get the Workhorse to accept the new part and for the matrix in the gemstone to recognize the structure of the housing. “Come on you goddess damned piece of shit! So help me I will fuck you up five ways to next week if you don’t get your worthless, horn fucking, low-down, bastard-child-of-a-toaster ass in gear!” Ravelin let out a blood-curdling cry of pain.

There was a loud electrical pop as I put the last control arm for the talisman into place and a glow enveloped various pieces of the engine. It never ceased to amaze me how cursing the ever living fuck out of something more often than not gave it that little extra kick. “Who’s a good talisman, yes you are.” I crooned to the inanimate object.

In the next room over I heard Hammer shoot a few times with the bolt-action rifle. The fusillade of return fire forced him back into the garage. I was about to turn the key once more when a thought struck me.

“Shit! We still need a magic source! And I don’t know how to drive this damn thing!”

“Move over, I can do it.” At first I thought Hammer was kidding, but his look said otherwise.

I moved over.

He passed the rifle back to me and climbed into the driver’s seat. His horn lit up and I quietly hoped that my roughshod replacement of the repair talisman had been enough. With a putter, a cough, then a roar, the two hundred year old MWT Workhorse revved up to speed.

When the old ponies of the war built something, they built it to last.

“Hold on.” The unicorn warned us. He threw the gears into reverse with a noisy grind. In the back Zinfandel cradled Ravelin tightly. With the sound of an angry dragon, the ancient vehicle ploughed through the garage door, tearing it clean off. I held on for dear life as the suspension compensated for the rough ride.

Hm, wasn’t there a safety feature I was missing?

Any musing I might have had was interrupted by the smattering of small arms fire that impacted the armor plates. I was also pleasantly surprise to find that the talisman had replaced the reinforced glass windshield and windows. Hammer spun the wheel quickly, and shifted gears again. With a lurch we shot forward. The unicorn’s features were screwed into intense concentration as he steered the heavy transport.

Ravelin whimpered in fear and pain as the zebra beside her tried to offer comfort.

A green buck with a rifle set in a battle saddle jumped into the road in front of us, firing at the oncoming motor vehicle. Several tons of hurtling metal turned him into a speed bump and a red bar dropped off my EFS. Once we were on the actual road, things got a lot smoother. I popped out of the top hatch and checked on our pursuers.

There were three of them, somehow keeping pace with the racing Workhorse, galloping madly.

I was desperately low on ammo and patience. So it was with great pleasure that through SATS I shot at the leading yellow mare three times. Twice I missed for it was a gamble at only thirty percent chance to hit. The last round was a little off and punctured her leg instead of her torso. At her speed, when her leg went out she was sent cartwheeling into a neck-breaking tumble and lay still.

That left two.

Sadly, my bladed knuckles were virtually destroyed from age and use. The affixed knives were all broken or bent, on one the palm bumper was crumpled and the other was cracked down the middle. I mourned their loss, and hoped that my teacher would forgive me for they had saved my life undoubtedly more than once. Bare claws were not optimal armaments though.

All I had left was a few clips for my smaller pistols which I was not eager to waste. From an almost forgotten pocket I found a long combat knife belonging to a dead slaver named Serrated. Ah, such memories of near death. Training for me in knives had mostly been about defending from them, but I would make do.

What I also had was an axe. The long hardwood handle, and heavy sharpened wedge was solid and reassuring. It seemed like a leftover from someone else's life, yet it was real all the same. Shrugging off my saddlebags made me realize just how much stuff I had collected. Freed from that much excess weight made me feel light as a feather.

Thus armed I launched myself into the sky, catching the air in my wide pinions. Circling high above I banked sharply and streaked down, a vengeful griffin comet. My chosen target was the raider pony who hadn’t followed my path upward. The pink-maned mare was oblivious until I brought the blade wedge down upon her back, sinking the sharpened steel block through her shabby armor to sever her spine.

The impact of the blow made my claws tremble.

With a scream, her back legs suddenly nonfunctional, the cotton candy haired raider skidded into the dirt. I stayed balanced carefully with my wings and my grip on the axe. Her front hooves pawed pitifully at the air as she mewled in terror and confusion. I tried to pull the weapon loose; making her scream, but it was stuck fast in the bone. A shout to my left made me turn and confront the mare’s partner, a charcoal stallion who reared and snorted in anger.

The Workhorse was quickly driving away, but I could catch up easily with my wings.

He had a sawed off, double barreled shotgun pointed my way. We stared at one another as I drew twelve inches of razor steel. For just a moment we held each other in a staring contest. Within that single breath of timelessness, a microscopic eternity stretched. Right as I hit SATS, he fired. Now throwing a knife into a small, moving target is nearly impossible without lots of practice. With the Stable-Tec Assisted Targeting Spell however, it was laughably easy. Many boring hours of knife throwing games had prepared me well.

Aftereffects from the time spell dragged the edges of my mind, nearly letting me count the pellets as they bit into my unprotected legs. Ow, ow, fuck I hate buckshot. I was guessing it was twelve-gauge. Shit, I knew what shell the gun used by being shot with it, which bode ill for my experiences.

The blade flew straight, and it flew true, turning end over end twice before sinking nearly half way into the dark coated buck’s right eye. He fell over with a dull thud, his remaining eye blank, devoid of inner light. Spinal cord still split, the mare crawled to the black stallion and whimpered pitifully.

The sight broke through my battle haze.

I knew it wasn’t my fault that they had attacked us, had tried to recapture Ravelin, but I still felt guilty. Ugh! Come on Ashes, they were ponies! Ponies don’t deserve your pity. No, I was Ghost now, ghost of Stable 57. Did I want Ghost to be a heartless monster though? Did I want to become like those ponies who had beaten me, and spat it my face?

Honor.

Act with honor.

What was the honorable thing to do now? I asked myself and no easy answer came. The handle of the axe still jutted from the mare's back as she prodded at the coal black unicorn and cried. She was beyond help with an injury like that. I limped to her, placed the barrel of a pistol to the back of her head, and pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot faded away quickly into the open waste.

I did not know this filly, did not know her story or her life. I knew that I had ended it though. Had she some feelings for the dark unicorn? Or had she perhaps suffered regret in her last moments?

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, and meant it.

From the corner of my eye I caught sight of one last raider in the distance. He slowed to a trot as he neared me and stopped a fair distance away. There was a wet sucking sound as I finally pulled the metal wedge from the dead mare’s back and turned to him. The leader watched me as I stood with my bloody weapons over his fellows. A battle saddle with two shotguns was strapped to his back, but he held his body at a neutral angle.

“Oy, griffin!” He shouted at me. “Do you know who’s prisoner yer takin’?” Nothing witty or snide came to my tongue so I remained silent. “Ragtag’d give you a king’s ransom fer that filly ye have. No doubt ‘bout it.” Again I didn’t answer, daring him to make a move towards me. “Well, ain’t cha gonna say somethin’?”

I gestured to the dead. “I think enough has been said already.” or perhaps, not enough.

The leader tossed his head with a whiny.

“Ah warn you, cross Ragtag and he’ll bring the sky down on yer head he will.” Warned the stallion before he galloped back the way he’d come. I collected the spoils of my victory and flew back to the Workhorse. Weary, in body, and in soul, there was still work to be done.

A part of me took in the momentous emptiness of the wasteland I soared over while the rest only focus on catching the speeding vehicle. Carefully, I landed on the roof and crawled back in through the open hatch. The cries reached my hearing even outside.

Hammer remained focused on the road, grimly determined not to look back.

“Are we clear?” Was all he asked. I told him yes.

“Ghost, help me here.” Zinfandel said between the writhing mare's open legs. Ravelin was deep in the throes of her labor, panting raggedly between contractions. For a moment I feared the zebra would ask me to take her place. “Get behind her and prop her up. Support her back so she can bear down better.” The zebra flicked a quick look up at me and I did as she instructed. As gently as I could, I helped lift Ravelin into a better angle by putting myself between her and the door. She was utterly soaked through with sweat as I felt her shaking and pushing against me.

“Gods, this isn’t helping, we need to pull over somewhere.” Again she looked to me.

“Can’t, not yet, we don’t know how many more of them are after us right now. I didn’t kill them all.”

“Then this is going to be very interesting.” Ravelin shrieked in pain such as I had never heard, never imagined hearing. The clench of her joints briefly cut off circulation to my limbs supporting her. I had minor medical knowledge, enough at least to get by on my own. Childbirth was entirely past my depth.

Should there have been that much blood?

Zinfandel was soaked to the elbows, the white of her stripes tinted pink with the mixed fluid. “Alright, I need you to push. Can you do that for me?” Ravelin shook her head frantically, crying out in agony.

“I can’t! I can’t, no more!” She whimpered and grit her teeth.

“Come on, sweety, just a little more. You can do it.” encouraged the zebra. I squeezed the mare tightly, hoping to offer reassurance with constant mutterings of how strong she was, how brave she was. A lot of it was nonsense and probably didn’t help at all, yet I kept on.

“Deep breath, and, push!” Ravelin yelled and tightened around her swollen belly for a few seconds. Then she went slack and moaned in exertion.

“Push!” The mare tensed again, screaming for longer than I imagined possible. There was a wet, almost tearing sound and thick noises from the rush of birthing fluids.

Then the squalling of a new-born foal.

The baby was covered in copious afterbirth, and beautiful beyond words. It seemed almost impossible, that fragile little life.

“It’s a colt, a beautiful, healthy, baby colt.” said Zinfandel. Still supported by me, Ravelin reached out and cradled her child.

“You did it! A foal! A colt too.” I congratulated the mare.

“Hello, Rampart, I’m your momma.” Still weak, the filly smiled down at the little crying bundle cradled in her front legs. Rampart had his mother’s golden mane and a tan coat. “You’re going to be very handsome when you’re older.” The baby slowly stopped squalling and opened his wide green eyes for the first time. Ravelin nuzzled her foal with the immensity of love only a mother could ever have.

“Hush now, quiet now, it’s time to lay your sleepy head. Hush now, quiet now, it’s time to go to bed.” She softly sang and shut her eyes, still smiling. Rampart blinked twice and drifted off to slumber.

Ravelin relaxed against me.

Something about her seemed wrong, so I shook her gently. No response. Another shake. I called her name. Nothing.

She wasn’t breathing.

“Zinfandel!” I shouted. The zebra had been watching carefully too.

“Lay her down and take the foal!” Again, I did as instructed, gathering up Rampart and moving out of the way. Zinny put an ear to her chest. “She’s gone into cardiac arrest.” I could only watch, numb with horror, holding the babe close. The zebra put two hoofs to her sternum and pressed down, hard and quick.

“One, two, three.” The medic put a hoof to her nose and put her lips to the mare’s own. Ravelin’s chest lifted with Zinfandel’s breath. “One, two, three.” She went through the resuscitation cycle again, and then a third time. Then she pulled a syringe from her belt and thumped it into her patient’s chest. I winced at the impact and the length of the needle.

It wasn’t possible, she had been so strong, been through and survived so much. It wasn’t fair for Ravelin to die now. Rampart shouldn’t have to live without a mother, without ever knowing his parents. Come on Ravelin, live! Live for your child.

Three more times Zinfandel tried. No life stirred in the brown mare. She started again, and I saw the tears spilling down her cheeks. I knew then It was too late.

“Zinny… She’s gone.” I reached a talon to pull her away, however the zebra was in hysterics.

“No! I can do this! One, two, three.” She breathed again into the dead mare.

“One, two, three.” Breath.

“One, two, three…”

Level Up.

Perk Gained: Arcane Engineer – You’ve got the magic touch. +15 to repair skill, increased chance of successfully fixing items requiring magical matrixes or talismans.

(Author’s note: Whew! Dayum! Finally done! I deeply apologize for any kind of unnecessarily long wait for this chapter, many crazy things and stuff. Okay, I think this is my most nail-biting chapter yet. Let me know what you think!)