Fallout: Equestria, Darkness Falls

Quiet.

It took a while, but things had finally calmed down. Ghost, the foal and I were camped within what must have been a classroom of sorts. I recognized it as such because of the tables and chairs, even if they were lacking the velvet cushions that their Stable 46 counterparts had. Most everything else was too ravaged by time and elements to make out.

The little one had been hungry; that was why she had been so upset. Luckily, it seemed this school had catered to those of all ages, as Ghost had managed to find some powdered formula. A boon from the Princesses for sure, because otherwise she was too young to eat anything else as her teeth had not fully come in. Again it angered me to know how early she had been removed from her vat tank so prematurely.

I looked up from feeding the little one as Ghost stalked by the open door. He had been spending the last hour setting up traps for the waiting raiders outside. It would not take them long to get over the loss of their leader and come hunting for us.

After all, as we discovered, Ghost and I had inadvertently taken over the raiders’ hideout. The first room we entered was some kind of basement and decorated with the desecrated corpses of their victims. I got one look before I bolted out of the room and threw up. From there, Ghost had to guide me in with my eyes closed and, to his annoyance, I made him promise to find another door out.

I grimaced at the thought as I tried to comprehend what these raiders were and why they did what they did. With that came the humility that the problems I faced in Stable 46 were trivial in comparison. Along with that, my desire to return home grew.

My thoughts were interrupted as Ghost came back. His rifle slung over his shoulder. “Should be safe enough to camp here. Stygians will deter them from making an attack and we’ll hear them coming.” He took a seat with a grunt, opposite the small fire we had made in the center of the room using a broken sink.

I gave a nod and continued feeding the little one.

Ghost stared at me for a time. He then coughed softly to catch my attention.

“What do you want?” I asked quietly and perhaps with a bit more terse than necessary.

“You’ve never taken care of a kid before.”

I rolled my eyes. “No, I have not.”

I ignored him for a moment and noticed that the foal’s bottle was empty. She gave a tiny snore. Unsure where to let her sleep, I gently bundled her back up and slid her into my left saddlebag.

I held my hoof to my barrel, where my heart still refused to calm down. I shook despite not being cold. And yet, my forehead bore beads of sweat. I gave a shaky sigh and stared into the fire.

I blinked as some distant voice caught me. “Hmm?”

Ghost quirked an eyebrow. “I said, you don’t look so good.”

I stared back and dismissed his claim with a flick of my hoof. “Don’t be silly, I’m fine.” At his disbelieving scowl, I reiterated more firmly. “I said I am fine!”

“No you’re not,” he shot back levelly.

“Why wouldn’t I be!? And just what do you know about it anyway!” I stood on my hooves and challenged him.

He never rose from his seat. “I know a pony in shock when I see one.”

“You don’t know anything! You don’t know me!” I spat back. My eyes burned as I stared at him, livid for a reason I did not understand but was well aware of.

Even though he scowled back at me with a cold disdain, Ghost still did not rise to my level. That Celestia-cursed, demon-of-a-pony stayed so calm and collected. All it did was infuriate me further.

He can never understand how I feel! He’s just as sick and twisted and cold as this accursed place!

I… I…

My heart pounded in my chest, eyes blurry, my legs threatened to give out at any second. It felt like the almighty hooves of the Goddesses were stomping my head into mush. The pendant of the Princesses weighed like a pony-sized boulder on my neck.

A whimper made my ear twitch; it was neither mine or Ghost’s. I sighed deeply and grit my teeth. I cannot do this here with the foal trying to sleep. I turned to leave…

“Where are you going?”

“Why do you care?” I spat back in a whisper.

“I don’t.” He continued to gaze at the fire instead of me, then levitated some more tinder to keep the blaze going. “Don’t go near the entrances or exits. You’ll set off my traps.”

I huffed in response and left without another word. His warning was heeded as the last thing I wanted to do was be the victim of the cruel traps he had set for the raiders. In revelation to that warning, however, it told me that the area must have been safe enough to walk about freely. Which was good, I needed to unwind.

My pip-buck illuminated the pitch black hallways just enough so that I could see where I was going. A good thing, too, since there was no shortage of garbage and smutz on the floor to hamper my ability to walk. Gazing around at the peeling paint, cracked tiles and missing sections of ceiling, the halls gave me a very faint sense of comfort amidst the frayed nerves.

This place was indeed some form of school, far larger than the classrooms back in Stable 46. I passed room after room filled with damaged chairs and desks. No more of the raiders’ macabre decor was found. They must have primarily stayed on the first floor and the basement, as we were on the next floor up.

Thank the Goddesses for small blessings…

The hallway ended with a cracked and battered door. Upon entering, this room was clearly different from the rest as there were not any school desks to be found, but instead more clandestine furniture; such as a musty couch, moldy tables and much more comfortable looking chairs, even if they did look like they would crumble from the slightest weight. The other end of the room had a long table with rusting machines that seemed to be designed to dispense merchandise, though there was none to be found as somepony had smashed the glass on both of them and raided the contents. I guessed at it being food due to the only thing I recognized, which was a coffee machine that had lost its pot. We had a similar one in the High Priestess’s sanctum, and I used it quite frequently. And like everything else, the room was coated in dust and grime.

Looking back up at the door, the dirty sign partially read ‘Teacher's Lounge’.

The room did not hold that much of interest to me, but I did spot another newsboard much like the one I had found in the Goldpeak post office. Wishing to satiate my curiosity and to take my mind off of other matters, I trot my way to the board.

The clippings were in significantly better condition than those in Goldpeak, probably due to the fact that this room was completely closed off to the Tartarus that was outside.

Most of the articles seemed to be celebrating the accomplishments of students that attended this place. I saw spelling bee results, magic fair announcements, reminders of the rules for troublesome students (we had a similar sheet posted in Stable 46, though ours was not quite as extensive), and a reminder to attend the school’s upcoming hoofball game (the home team Dark Ravens were facing off against the Hippogriffs).

Though one peculiar piece of very official looking paper (or at least as official as I could tell, given its state of decay) drew my attention:

“POSTED AS PER ORDER OF THE MINISTRY OF MORALE.”

“Ministry of Morale…?” I questioned aloud, then continued to the article itself.

It read, “Terror strikes Stalliongrad hardware store! Employees at the Stalliongrad Hoof Works hardware store expected another typical day at work, but what greeted them on their opening shift was nothing short of a gruesome massacre that had happened sometime the night before.

“Over a dozen Equestrians were found dead throughout the facility, each of them murdered in such a way that one would expect in a movie setting.”

“‘It looked like some kind of hunter was killing them for sport,’ one employee, who had discovered the scene commented. ‘I’ll never forget. There was a mare, strung up by her neck with razor wire and the floor covered in blood. It was horrible.’”

“Other such murders occurred as well, including a stallion that had a common household drill bore into the back of his skull, another mare crushed under a fallen pallet of two-by-fours, and two that had been incinerated by an I.E.D concocted from volatile magic energy cells zapped in a microwave in the employee break room.

“Sources further comment, ‘Them weren’t no ordinary ponies,’ said another stallion worker. ‘I’m retired Equestrian military, lost my foreleg, and them ponies were decked out in full tactical gear; automatic weapons, magic-enhanced visionary goggles, grenades, the works. They were after somepony; somepony dangerous.’

“The Ministry of Morale quickly swept up the scene as the Ministry of Image confiscated recorded documentation, as per national law and security, for the impending investigation. Pinkie Pie, Ministry Mare of the Ministry of Morale, commented when interviewed on the situation, ‘Bad, bad terrorist traitor ponies! Probably working with those mean Zebras!’ before she hopped away to get a look herself.”

The rest of the article was damaged beyond eligibility but the message was clear enough. Though, why anypony would want to post something so grim and macabre was beyond me. I mean, other than raiders of course…

My curiosity lingered still as I gently took the article, carefully folded and stashed it away within my robes. Ghost may know something about it, or maybe not.

Deciding it was time to move on, I left the Teachers Lounge behind through a different door and down another hall. I did come across one of Ghost’s traps and made sure to give the rigged weapon - a shotgun, he had called it - a very wide berth.

The only familiar thing that I did see was the little silhouette of a small filly with a bow tie in her mane; the same sign used to identify a bathroom. I did see another silhouette, this one appeared to be of a filly with a very short mane and absent the bow. It irked me that this must have been the version of a young stallion, and it just did not belong as far as I was concerned.

The sudden, ravenous desire for a shower forced me forward and into the room. Of course, the entire washroom was far filthier than I would have liked as dust and debris caked every surface. I was at the crossroads of wanting that shower desperately enough, or to just walk away entirely. The former won that debate as I remembered why I longed for one so badly.

The bathroom was far larger than any of the several that resided on the many levels of 46. Open shower stalls and closed-off privacy areas for relieving oneself, most of which had been severely damaged.

I tried one shower head after another with absolutely no luck. I was not really surprised, but I was hoping that one was in good enough condition to reward me.

“I need to get him off of me…” I whispered aloud. My heart was thumping hard in my barrel again as I sucked in mouthfuls of stale air.

I had to sit back or else I would have fallen over with my legs refusing to support my sins.

You killed him…

“No…” I shook my head. The grime on my coat had once been…

You killed him…

“No. No, no!” I shook harder and hugged myself tightly. The room felt impossibly cold, as if the very chilled air of death had surrounded me in its foreboding cloak.

You killed…

“NO!” I yelled out, forehooves clutched to my flattened ears. “NO I DID NOT!” I screamed at the voices in their ceaseless assault.

It did no good. They kept repeating and repeating and repeating! Guilt and shame crushed down on me like the massive great seal I had departed from.

You killed him… you killed him… you KILLED him!

The room spun. My head throbbed. My heart raced and the cold, physical and perceived, was unbearable.

You killed him! You KILLED him!

“No! No, no, NO!” I shook my head as hard as I could and fell over, still clutching at my head to ward off the voices.

Everything went white as sudden, searing pain shot through my horn and my back spasmed. Something shattered and clattered to the floor, my hoof hurt as a result. Then, as if a switch had been thrown, I felt nothing but numbness.

I lay where I fell, on my side and the side of my face planted on the grimy floor. The light from my pip-buck glittered off of the shards of glass that now littered the floor. One particularly large piece was right next to my hoof.

I killed him…

I returned to the room that had become our temporary shelter some time later. Ghost was there, cleaning his disdainful weapon. The foal was awake and out of my saddlebag, watching him work. She was far too young to have any idea what he was doing, but the fact that she cooed happily as he did so was disturbing. Perhaps just as disturbing was his lack of interest in her, or at least at a glance. Then again that could actually be a blessing in disguise if it meant that he truly had no malicious intent for her. Still, I intended to keep an eye on him.

I went for my saddlebags and removed the last of my remaining bandages and wrapped my right fore hoof.

“What happened?” came Ghost’s exasperated question.

“Tripped,” I lied.

“You look terrible.”

“You would too, out here.” I sighed at my own retort and rolled my eyes. I already knew this before I came back. My eyes were red and puffy, my coat a disheveled mess. I looked ten times worse out here than even my most horrid day in Stable 46 had been. Given everything that I have been through, it was not a surprise.

Looking for a distraction that was not my appearance, I took out the old article I found.

“What’s this?” Ghost asked as I levitated it toward him.

“Found that while I was away.”

As I waited for Ghost to read it, I took a little time to clean up. Some cold water on my face from my canteen, a little bit of brushing on my mane (it was one of the few things that survived the Goldpeak General Store), and I felt a little bit better. Most definitely not one-hundred percent, but better.

“So what do you make of it?” I asked as I tended to the bandages on my hoof. I kept myself turned away and to one side, so as to not draw too much attention to it.

“Well,” Ghost sat up and kept his cold eyes more on the paper. “Two hundred years ago, Equestria was at war with the Zebras.”

I nodded, recalling what I had learned from Goldpeak. “Mhm, the battle came to Stalliongrad and consumed the city.”

Ghost paused for me, then continued, “Yup, except there was more than just soldiers battling it out for the city.”

I quirked my eyebrow at that and kept silent.

“The ‘Great War’, some called it. Others called it the ‘deadliest conflict of all time’, and they were right. An entire generation was wiped out over the course of the war, which lasted several years and well over a decade or so. Stalliongrad, however, was the most heavily contested of the frontlines.”

I nodded again. “Mhm. The log I read mentioned that ground was traded back and forth over the months.”

Ghost nodded in turn. “What most ponies don’t know is that there was a lot more going on in the background. Deadly games of cat and mouse, espionage, assassination and the like. Agents from both sides sent out to win the war in subtler, more-crippling ways than an army could. Think of it like a mallet versus a scalpel. You know what those are, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I do…”

“Good. This makes things easier for me. The mallet is the armies of Equestria and the Zebras. The scalpel are the agents sent behind enemy lines to disrupt the opposition. Gathering intelligence, crippling production, stealing weapon plans, or even the assassination of high-ranking individuals.”

I cringed. “Sounds ghastly and cold-blooded…”

Ghost snorted and that scowl hardened. “You’ll learn soon enough that that’s how the world is, and how the world always was. Back then it was a game of spies.” From his pocket came a slender, paper-wrapped stick and a small, bronze colored device. The stick went into his muzzle and the device opened a hinged lid. It sparked, and he held the small flame to the stick. Moments later he put the device away and sighed out a long puff of smoke into the dusty air.

“Spies?”

“The ‘agents’ I was talking about,” Ghost answered flatly.

He was really starting to irk me. “And how do you even know all of this? Did that not happen two-hundred years ago?”

“Believe it or not, there are ponies that are still alive who remember.”

My shock seemed to amuse him. “Things aren’t so different today.”

“What do you mean?”

“I do all of those things, but I don’t care for flags or ideas. Only the caps.”

I blinked and still had no idea what he meant.

“I’m a mercenary.”

Even though I did not fully understand what he was talking about, I could understand one that fought for materialistic possessions. The demons of tartarus would fight endlessly for scraps and for the souls of the damned.

“Struck a nerve, have I?” he rhetorically asked.

I huffed and turned away.

“Well, hate me or not, I don’t care. Get some sleep.”

The morning finally came.

Ghost had shown me how to access the canned food with a device, predictably enough, called a ‘can-opener’. He further described it as a tool that every pony in the wasteland should have. Though, when I had inquired about the food’s age I was nearly disinclined to eat it at all. Only my rampaging stomach was a much louder call-to-arms than my disgust had been. It was edible, some kind of carrot and asparagus concoction, but it had been nearly as disgusting as my meal in the cave.

After Ghost had meticulously disguised our campsite did we finally move out, albeit a little later than he had wanted to.

“Why do you even care if they run into them or not?” Ghost asked with an annoyed roll of his eyes as we walked. He lit another of the strange sticks -- something he called a 'cigarette' -- and I backed away by a foot. The things smelled awful and made me cough. Plus, I suspected they were harmful to the little one.

“They are still ponies,” I answered back. “The traps served their purpose in protecting us, there was no need to leave them in place. Besides, what if somepony other than a raider crossed their path?”

That seemed to give him a moment’s pause, but before I could cement the victory, “Not my problem.”

I blinked, taken aback by the sheer callousness of his answer. “You really are a demon…” I chastised.

He only huffed in response as we made our way out of the district. The little one cooed in delight at our back-and-forth, as apparently the bickering of morality entertained her. If it were an older pony I might have scolded her for finding such things funny, but her youthful ignorance gave me an odd sort of relief.

“You can keep her quiet this time, right?” Ghost asked, his sniper rifle out and about. His sharp eyes scanned the sparse buildings to our left and the hills to our right, looking for threats. I had to admit that despite his cold heart and unpleasant attitude, I did feel safe around him. Well, now that I was reasonably certain that he would not kill me.

I nodded. “Yes, I fed and changed her while you were off scavenging.” The latter part had been most interesting - and stinky - but I eventually figured it out. The little one should be quite content for a while, as a few playful bounces of my saddle-bags kept her entertained.

“That’s good. We’re almost out of Deathrain’s territory. We should be fine in the outlands.”

“Outlands?”

“It’s everything that isn’t in Stalliongrad’s city limits. We’re skirting the edge right now.”

We turned away from the line of buildings then, heading into the gently rolling hills that mirrored the ones Ghost had been in before. We crested a hilltop and I once again got a good view of the surroundings. The items of my curiosity caught my attention; the black triangle, the enormous city of Stalliongrad itself and the ominous miasmatic tower to the north. Even in the middle of the day, the strange rainbow-sheen stayed strong.

Bang!

I jumped as Ghost shot at something in the distance.

“Radscorpion,” Ghost clarified as he clacked the bolt, then picked up the brass casing in his magic and stowed it in one of his pockets.

“Oh.” I sighed softly. Even though it bugged me, I supposed I should get used to sudden noises in this new land. I was not sure if I wanted to know what a 'Radscorpion' was.

When Ghost finally signaled that it was safe to move on - something we had discussed the night before - we made our way forward.

“Stay towards the bottom of the hills,” Ghost said, his hoof directed me towards the small valleys forged. “They will give us more cover from snipers.”

I could not argue with that. I imagined that it was from such a hilltop that he shot at me from.

The land around us was covered in the white stuff, and with so many mysteries around me, it seemed prudent to get some answers.

“Ghost?”

He sighed. “What.”

“What is all of this?” I made sure to keep close and reasonably quiet. If the foal’s crying could attract such ire, my voice could do the same if I was not careful. “The cold white stuff we’re walking on.”

“It’s called snow. It falls from the sky.”

The simple statement answered my question… kind of. I still wanted to know precisely what snow was; how it is made, why does it fall from the sky, et cetera. But my inquiries would probably just annoy him further on what he viewed as common knowledge.

“And the black triangle? The rainbow lights? What are those?”

This time he did not grunt or sigh and he seemed less annoyed; perhaps this inquiry was considered less stupid. “The ‘black triangle’ is Reprieve. It’s a settlement and a trade hub. The many towns and villages go there to buy what they need. Several factions have established themselves as well. Mercenaries, paramilitary groups like the Steel Rangers, even criminals. You won’t find a larger hub of politics and rules, along with corruption.”

I nodded gently in the wake of this new information, though Ghost was not done yet.

“I don’t know a lot about that place. It used to be called the ‘Crystal Empire’ before and during the war. The Crystal City supposedly had the most advanced technology in all of Equestria, arguably only rivaled by Hoofington. They were an ally of Equestria, but largely stayed out of the war due to political reasons. The place is full of salvage and untouched resources, except nopony can get at it.”

“Why is that?”

“Because every pony that has ever tried has never returned. Not one over the last two-hundred years.”

We glimpsed the strange tower again and the rainbow sheen that floated above. Only now, instead of its colors holding any kind of beauty they signified the promise of death. As if the wicked, curved saber of Nightmare Moon were at my throat.

“That rainbow light? All you really need to know is don’t go there.”

I gulped. “Okay,” I said quietly. His simplistic yet adamant answer gave me a sense of foreboding.

... and yet it only fueled my curiosity.

I still had many more questions to ask, though I held my tongue. Ghost was not the most hospitable pony I had met, despite the fact that he tolerates me right now. I could not really afford that to change in my current state.

Ghost kept his attention on the hilltops and the small valleys as we progressed while I kept my own on the foal, keeping her entertained and quiet. Even so, Ghost kept giving me looks as though he were expecting the foal to suddenly burst into tears. And quite honestly it was a concern of mine too. Taking care of a little one was not part of the admittedly limited skillset that I possessed, and even though Ghost’s survival skills seemed impressive, I had my doubts about him being able to protect her while constantly being on the move.

To that end I knew we needed to find her a proper home.

I yet again had an excuse to go back to Stable 46, get the little one a proper guardian and to abandon this madness. I watched Ghost for a moment, his back to me as he watched a nearby hilltop. Perhaps if I was lucky I could slip away tonight. I doubted that he would care that much and even more that he would pursue me.

Before I could contemplate the matter further, Ghost held up his left hoof to signal me to stop.

“What is it?” I whispered, my ears folded back as I peeked around him. I loathed the feeling of weakness it gave me. I stood up a little straighter and forced my ears back up.

“Someone up ahead,” he said quietly in turn. “Stay low. I’m checking it out. Be ready to run if I give the order.”

I nodded and followed him between two hills, where their bases met there was a small ceilingless hallway of shorn rocks which narrowed the pathway enough so that we had to move through in single file.

“What can you see?” Ghost whispered, startling me.

The question seemed absolutely unnecessary. I could not see anything that he could not, how did Ghost expect me to know something he did not. “What do you mean?” I asked defensively.

He groaned quietly. “Your pipbuck. What do you see on your EFS?” At my blank stare, “Do you even know how to use that thing?!” he hissed as quietly as he could.

My face heated and I had to consciously keep my voice low. “This ‘thing’ is a divine symbol of the Princesses’ Chosen! Are you always so disrespectful?”

Ghost barely fought back another growl. “Alright, look. It’s called a pipbuck; It’s issued to stupid stable dwellers. And if you don’t learn how it works, you will die.”

Despite the heat in my face and the throbbing of my temple, and a distinct desire to buck Ghost in the face, I jutted my foreleg out. “Fine, enlighten me!” I whispered tersely.

He rolled his eyes, took one more glance ahead of us, then started fiddling with the buttons on my pipbuck. I waited, then blinked as my vision flickered. “Whoa!”

For a brief moment I thought I was about to go blind, but then several purple symbols appeared in my peripheral vision. I turned my head, trying to look at them, but they never let me stare directly at them.

“It’s on,” Ghost announced. “Now, look at the center bottom. You should see a compass.”

Instead of asking what a compass was, I nodded.

“Do you see any large red ticks on it?”

I blinked and looked in the direction that Ghost was pointing. “No, but I see yellow.” It was difficult to count, since they had a tendency to overlap, but there were several.

Ghost nodded. “Unknowns, then. Stay here.”

I stood back and watched as Ghost crept forward, impossibly silent even on the soft gravel that. My ears twitched, trying to pick up any sound from him. The nickname made a lot more sense now, he was the quietest pony ever. However, I could watch the little blue tick that moved along with him even when he snuck out of my sight.

I had no idea my pipbuck was capable of such things. Did everypony’s pipbuck have this, what did he call it? EFS?

I was not sure what I was waiting for. Ghost had disappeared and the yellow ticks were staying put. Am I just supposed to stay here and wait? It was probably the best idea, since I still had the little foal in my saddlebags.

The anxious fidget in my legs grew as I waited. Seconds felt like minutes and minutes like hours. What was happening? What did he find?

Then something caught my attention. It was nothing I could actually see, but a small red tick mark just at the edge of my compass.

And it was heading for the rest.

“Oh no.” A cold chill ran down my spine.

I didn’t think, I acted. I galloped forward to warn the rest. Whatever was heading their way could not be good. With these hills, the threat would easily have a height advantage over Ghost and whoever else was out there. He needed me to scout the potential threat ahead, so he had no way of seeing them first. I had to warn him!

My pace only quickened and I called out in a whisper. “Ghost?”

I got no response, looking for any sign that I could find him. Somehow he had even disappeared off of the little radar he had shown me.

“Ghost?” I continued to whisper while looking for him. “Ghost, where are you?”

All I heard was the soft crunch of snow under my hooves. The red was still there, and even though reluctance left a bad taste in my mouth, I drew my energy pistol and checked the cell as Ghost showed me.

Fully loaded, I made my way forward with caution. The E.F.S. compass thing severely lacked information. It did not determine how far away the marks were and I had no idea how big or small they might be. My anxiousness only grew as the realization sunk in, of how in the dark I truly was.

I crept forward as quietly as I could, the insipid pistol held just ahead of me.

With Ghost’s advice at the forefront of my mind, I stayed in the narrow pathways below and avoided the hilltops. I needed that element of surprise on my side if I was to be any help. In the back of my mind I was planning for the worst and taking inventory of the meager medical supplies I had.

Celestia willing there won’t be any serious injuries.

I heard some shouting and my ears perked up. “Ghost?”

No reply.

I bit my lip and looked back at the napping foal. Half of me wanted to hide her somewhere while the other half insisted on taking her with me. If I left and something happened to her while I was gone, I would never forgive myself. But at the same time…

“Arrugh!” I groaned aloud, made my decision and moved forward with her.

With urgency at my tail, I rounded the next bend.

With the slowness of molasses I crept forward. Eventually I found myself in the emergence of a clearing, with every single one of the little yellow ticks.

The mysterious things were not what I expected.

I had found a gathering of many, though they were not what I was expecting. Truthfully, what I believed that I would find was a swarm of demons, monsters, or some other kind of Tartarus spawn that would seek to corrupt, deceive or murder me. Some part even expected the vengeance of the strange ‘Radscoprion’, as Ghost had called them, to be around this bend. For all I knew they had some kind of hive mind or some sense only the Goddesses could have known.

But no. I found children.

Though, these were not the same prematurely extracted little ones that I had in my saddlebags, no. These were more grown, removed at their proper times, and capable of moving on their own. I saw a mix of these ‘earth ponies’ and some unicorns. Many seemed to be fillies while some seemed to be their not-filly counterparts.

Long moments passed before I realized there was naught but silence. All eyes fixated on me as mine shifted between each and every one of them. Adorably, some of the smaller ones hid behind others or took sanctuary behind rocks or dead logs, while others eyed my every move with distrust and suspicion as though I would pounce on them if given the slightest chance.

Given my experiences with the raiders I was expecting much the same, thus why I kept my energy pistol mostly raised. This motion seemed foolish, as none of them appeared armed despite my lack of expertise when it came to weapons. Such suspicion kept my attention on them, their eyes in particular as demons may just as well be able to shoot beams of destruction.

While there were many ponies around me, none of them were the annoyingly snarky unicorn that I was looking for.

“Drop the weapon!” a voice demanded.

I jumped and very nearly pulled the trigger. To my right was yet another hill that created the miniature valley that I was in. On top of that hill was another pony.

“Now!” he demanded. The deep voice, yet still much softer and younger than that of Ghost’s, demanded. His eyes obscured by perhaps the oddest looking glasses I had ever seen, and strapped to the black stallion’s sides were weapons that gave me flashbacks of Buckshot’s terrifying cannons. The only difference was that these were longer, and I had no doubt that if he wished it, I would die within a second’s notice.

I shook my head and backed up very slowly. I could only hope that his aim was not as good as Ghost’s. If that could be true, I might be able to retreat back the way I came. I had to get the little one away from these ponies; only the Goddesses knew what would become of her if I suffered the same fate as her previous guardian.

“I said drop it, fucker!” he bellowed again, and even from this distance I could hear the clack of metal. His weapon was now loaded beyond the shadow of a doubt.

My cheeks burned at such foul language. “Watch your mouth!” I heard myself shout, a reflex I had said to many young ones that made the mistake of cursing.

“We don’t take orders from you!” He slowly turned his body, the weapons followed my slow retreat. I had no intention of firing at any of them, my only goal was escape, but if he had some kind of fear or anxiety that I might injure one of them he would hold his fire.

Ghost, if you are around I could use some help.

I checked my E.F.S. and still had held no sign of a blue dot.

“Where are you?” I muttered worriedly, the ever-pressing anxiety that I would be torn asunder grew.

“Are you deaf? I said stop!” he said again, though I did not do as he wished. I was not going to stop, and in fact, as soon as I thought I was close enough I planned to bolt for it.

Snap.

I jumped, the sound startling me and I almost pulled the trigger. My face burned as I stared daggers up at the pony. “Did you just shoot at me?” I inquired angrily.

But something was off even as we stared each other down. I was always known for noticing small details in the Stable. Mares who repeatedly caused trouble for the sake of ‘a little fun’ would always whisper in cautious tones whenever the High Priestess came along. More often than not I could pick out their deceptions, the little tell-tale signs of a prank in the works or some nefarious joke in the midst. A muzzle twitch, a sly smirk, a shifting of the eyes; that was all it took and I would know. Granted I never knew exactly what it meant, and that usually meant that I fell for their trick anyway, but I could always tell the details.

Ever since I came into this strange new world it was cold, and weapons seemed to generate great heat. Even in my panic I noticed this little fact with Buckshot’s weapons and when I set fire to the weapons cache in Goldpeak. Little wisps of steam from a gun’s barrel (and in my pistol’s case, the tepid stench of ozone) after they fired.

Steam of which was lacking from the stallion’s twin guns.

My brow furrowed. The fact became clear that he had not fired at me. Even more curious was that the children seemed spooked.

Then who fired…?

Movement caught my eye, and on my pipbuck’s compass a red dot appeared. Straight in the other direction, just behind a tight thicket of bushes and small trees.

They were flattened as an enormous creature came barreling through, chittering and clacking with the ravenous hunger. I had seen such a creature before, albeit much smaller than this one. It dwarfed all of us to the point where its pincers could snap a fully grown pony in two, and the long, deadly tail with a stinger that overwatched us all like a deadly shadow.

The silence broke with the panicked screams of children as chaos unleashed and my blood ran cold.

And all I wanted right now was to be back home, safe and sound in bed…

Goddesses above, why me…?

Footnote: Level Up.

New Perk: Red Alert, level 1 - Others look to you for the first signs of danger. While outdoors, your hearing is sharper and you can detect faraway threats so long as they are not sneaking.