Whickerbury Apartment Complex, Trotson
Day 2
Out of the strong heat of the sun and into the slightly more manageable heat of the Apartment Complex. I didn’t realize just how awful it had gotten till the shade overtook me. The only thing keeping me from letting out a sigh was the knowledge that dangerous ponies were all around us, and I didn’t want to test their listening comprehension. It had felt the same when I had left the station, now that I think about it, but so much happened in that short span of time with Gold I didn’t give the daylight's warmth much attention. I knew I would have to put the coolness of the shade behind me as well, for I had a job to do.
The entranceway was small, and getting inside with a battle saddle was rather awkward. The only two objects were stairs that twisted at the end of the hall and a door to our left, our hooves echoing loudly. I looked up, seeing at least five floors worth of stairs above me. The supply drop could be on any of them, but the word “supply drop” got me thinking that it might not be in the building but rather on top of it. It was a possibility I needed to consider, especially when it meant the enemy possibly heard us instead of just saw us.
The sound of moving clothes brought my attention to the ghoul next to me. He had pulled the mask covering his muzzle down and took in the air with a giant inhale. The gross, disfigured look of his undead skin hid what was likely a rather strapping young colt. Once upon a time he might have been a looker for a decent amount of the wasteland, but now he was just a mess. If he wasn’t helping the Enclave and had a goddess-damned alicorn for a wife, I would have just killed him. I’m sure he would have appreciated being released for life.
“Well, soldier mare,” He said with all the cockiness one would expect of a teen. “Rules of engagement?”
While this wasn’t an actual Enclave operation, I did have to give him some small credit for asking that question. Perhaps he could be corralled, even if it was only to some minimal extent.
“All life is expendable. Show these grounders no mercy,” I told him, making my way over to the first door. I placed a hoof on it and looked back at him. “I couldn’t care less if they are slavers or slaves.”
Sharpshot gave me a tooth grin. “Speaking my language.”
To my delight, he did actually stack up on the door instead of standing right in front of it like an idiot. The abomination was at his side, and I had to consistently remind myself that discussion of what in tartarus he had done to it would be better left for later. I slowly opened the door, making sure that my novasurge peaked out in preparation for whatever lay inside. We were met by a combined kitchen-dining-living area, wallpaper peeling and floor looking more like a storm cloud. There were no immediate hostiles right before me, but the sixth sense of every soldier had come in as I eyed what was blocked by the door.
I leapt forward as the center of the door was blown open, splinters flying everywhere. Getting immediately onto my hooves, I aimed the semi-auto rifle on the other side of my battle saddle at the pony who had tried to blindside me. He was met with a trail of bullets going from the base of his neck up to his head, those final few shots putting him down. My eyes then flicked to right in front of me, finding myself on the end of a barrel from another grounder that had hidden itself behind the counter. I’m sure they had met to fire at me, but their head was suddenly ripped apart by the firing of an auto weapon to my right.
I turned my attention to Sharpshot, about to ask where he had gotten an automatic rifle until I saw what he was holding. The abomination had been pointing exactly where the bullets had come from, the ghoul not even looking at where he had shot. He strutted into the room and motioned my attention back to the room we were in. I followed his gaze, and had just enough time to duck as a unicorn blind fired over the couch. Sharpshot slid behind the kitchen counter as I used what little cover the table and chairs gave me to hide my figure.
When the fire stopped, I took my chance and jumped on top of the table. Another jump and flap of my wings, and I was high enough to see over the couch at the hostile. Freezing time with S.A.T.S., I cued two shots from both the novasurge and the semi-auto rifle, and then allowed the world around me to resume. The poor idiot didn’t even have time to let the pure terror in his face come to life before his body was filled with lead and then turned to not but dust. Wings spread out, I allowed myself to fall back to the earth, shaking my head out how pathetic the grounder’s fight was.
“Okay, yeah, definitely see the soldier in you,” Sharpshot said. Every word the stallion said to me sounded either sarcastic or like a deliberate attempt to get a rise out of me. Unfortunately, he would be getting no such thing from the pegasus before. “Been a while since I’ve looked alongside them. You lot always did have more competence then the rest of this Celestia forsaken shithole.”
“Are you referring to how you ended up indebted to us?” I asked as I rounded the corner of the room, finding nopony within the rest of the common area. There was a door to the left of me, the apartment’s bedroom most likely behind it. “I heard about it a bit from a friend. Something about a dragon, Las Pegasus, and a battle on the Bucklyn Bridge?”
That wiped the smirk right off his face, practically growling at the mention of it all. Then, his ears folded, and there was an unexpected look of sadness in his eyes. He was certainly an expressive ghoul, which probably came from having died at the most emotionally troubling time in any ponies life. As if noticing that I was watching his ever changing expressions, Sharpshot immediately hid any insecurities I had conjured up behind a wall of unbridled arrogance.
“Long story,” He answered.
I probably could have pushed him about it, but I had no interest in doing so and it wasn’t what was important at the moment. We needed to make sure everything was clear, and talk of the past and how ponies ended up where they could be left till later. Approaching the door, I placed my back to the wall and went to slowly open it. Unfortunately, the pony inside had been ready for that.
A nice row of bullets exited the door, and one had found its way through my hoof. I gritted my teeth, recoiled my hoof back, and refused to let it touch back to the ground for a good second or two. I looked back to Sharpshot, the ghoul pointing his abomination at a point in the door. He motioned for me to open it, and with a deep breath I reached my injured hoof out. I pushed the door as open as I could and as quickly as I could, the sound of exchanged fire filling my ears for just a moment before the apartment went silent.
Considering Sharpshot was alive and giving me the smuggest look he could muster, I had a feeling it was safe to look. With a wobble in my step, I entered the bedroom. The front of the bed had a newly made corpse in front of it, a look of anger, the final emotion of the pony it belonged to. The amount of bullet holes in the would have made a normal pegasus lightheaded. The fact there were no stray bullet holes in the bed was also rather impressive.
“Good kill,” I complimented.
“Well, precision is my talent,” He replied, playfully swinging the abomination around with his magic before resting it on his shoulder. “I would be upset if I couldn’t hit something from this range. I ain’t one of your green cadets.”
He was trying to push my buttons. Considering the corner of my mouth twitched at the bravado and overbearing self-confidence of the colt with me. The worst part was he saw it, and it seemed to make the skip in his step more pronounced. Forcing myself to calm down, I turned my attention to the rest of the room and limped onto the bed. I still had those drugs from the hotel on me, and spent a small amount of time fishing for something to null the pain. The injury wasn’t bad but it definitely stung.
Except there weren't any painkillers among what I was carrying. All the pills they had carried on them were meant for recreation and fun. The closest thing to it might have been Buck, but I knew better than to take something in hopes that it might simulate what I really need. That was idiot and would lead me down a slippery slope that I did not need at the moment. With a grunt, I got off the bed and looked for where Sharpshot had gone, the rummaging of a pony in a room next to me telling me they were looking through the apartment's bathroom.
“Cleared out. Anything useful in here is on the ponies,” he shouted at me. “Assuming it wasn’t empty to begin with.”
His words were my best hope for something, so with a nod I started to disturb the recently deceased. Working off the make-shift armor the pony responsible for my injury had been wearing – which had been made useless by Sharpshot’s talent as a markspony – I rummaged through their saddlebags for whatever I could find. I was greeted with ammo, some bandages that I immediately used to wrap my leg up, and some Dash and Buck. No painkillers, but at least I could halt the bleeding.
The sound of something approaching brought my attention from the corpse to the bedroom door. I slid up next to it, ready to shoot as the sound of hooves first got farther and then closer. The sound of hooves filled the apartment, two sets of them if I was hearing right. They grew closer and closer, and then I heard them stop. There was a wail of agony, no doubt at seeing their friends dead, and then the hard stomp of a hoof on the ground.
“Where the fuck are you, murderers?!” A gruff voice called out. “You’re gonna pay for this. I’ll nail your body onto the walls of this and let your guts hang.”
For a raider, I would say that was on the friendlier side.
I’m sure a few might have felt pity for him, because the way he was shouting his heart out caught me as someone who had just lost family. In fact, I think the other pony with him had tried to calm him down, but his voice was so grating on the ears I was more focused on not wincing in pain. His voice hurt me in the same way the sound of glass against glass did, and it took all I was not to close my eyes at the pain of hearing it.
A pony suddenly burst into the room, and I acted. I charged and bashed into his battle saddle first, eyes noticing the other pony that had been behind him as I passed by the door. They aimed at me, and thinking quickly I wrapped a hoof around the first grounder’s head and forced him in front of myself. The rounds that came at me were taken by my meat shield, which I then promptly shoved into the second grounder. He didn’t move in time to stop the bleeding body of his friend from falling on him. There was an attempt made for both to get back to their hooves, but that was quelled by empty half a mag of bullets into them both.
A whistle told me Sharpshot had watched it all, and that he was impressed. I ignored him, instead checking to see how my semi-auto’s mag was faring real quick. Three bullets were left, which would be enough for at least one more pony. I loaded it back up, and then checked the two newest corpses for anything of use. All I got was ammo, and none was right for what I was using. Sharpshot was more than happy to take the shotgun shells, which led me to notice yet another horrifying fact about the monstrosity he called a firearm.
It had two magazines. As if it wasn’t horrifying enough.
Ignoring that, I motioned for him to follow behind me, more than confident he would watch my back. He did more than just that, not doing what many dumb recruits would and making sure his abomination wasn’t pointed at me. I doubted ninety percent of the wasteland, excluding the Steel Rangers perhaps, wouldn’t have understood the common sense there. Competence was clearly helping the two of us make up for our lack of numbers.
Out the first floor apartment and up the stairs we slowly threaded. My eyes watched for the sign of guns pointed down at us from above. The temperature rose slightly, and would likely only get higher the more floors we claimed. Whether that meant we would more or less ponies didn’t matter, they would be cleared out through death and blood. I gave the briefest of checks towards the E.F.S. in my vision, but it proved ineffective at the given moment. Too many hostiles clumped together in similar places on different floors.
Sixth sense said to look behind me, and I did just in time. A raider had been cheeky enough to wait on the stairs heading to the third floor, and the gun he held was pointing at my head. Still on the stairs, I found my best hope was to duck. The bang that followed didn’t matter as much as the feeling of air parting just above my ear. Two shots from Sharpshot caused him to duck behind the stairway, and if he was smart he would have relocated at the top of the stairs
Fortunately for me, he didn’t have the time to think about that.
Using the railing and bearing through the pain the action caused my injured leg, I propelled myself right up in front of the raider. A twist of my wings and I barreled into him, knocking his gun into the air right as he pulled the trigger. Then I aimed, pulled the trigger on the semi-auto three times, and found myself staring into a corpse. One shot had pierced his skull, another his eye, and while the third had missed it didn’t really matter.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“You know, I wouldn’t call some parts of your fighting style military,” Sharpshot taunted from the second floor, one corner of his mouth raised far higher than the other. “Was expecting something more… uniform, I guess.”
“If dealing with Steel Rangers or other groups like them, I probably would act more along those lines,” I replied, searching the corpse below me real quickly. Found some ammo, changed magazines, and then made my way back to the second floor proper. “Raiders are not like them. You don’t beat a rule breaker without breaking rules yourself.”
He hummed at my answer and lost interest in the conversation. He probably expected me to be strict with protocol or something like that, but that doesn’t keep a pony alive. How many battles during the war centuries ago were turned by the abandoning of morals? How many operations were filled with violations of Equestrian law, and simply classified? What Sharpshot saw was the public image, not the truth. Glorify the victory, seal away the black spots, and support and patriotism is obtained; propaganda in its simplest of form. It’s half of why I got the medal I did for that shitfest in Trotson years ago, I’m sure.
“Three hostiles in the room beyond, one right next to you behind the wall,” He explained as he stacked up against the door. I gave him a look of frustration, and he rolled up a sleeve on his shirt. I could make out a PipBuck on his leg. “The one good thing my home gave me.”
“Didn’t expect you to be from a stable,” I replied.
“Most stables have functioning air filtering talismans. Helps make ‘em less dead looking,” Sharpshot replied, eyes turning from me to the door. “Don’t ask why it never got fixed, cause I don’t know.”
Even if I had planned to, our conversation was promptly interrupted by the door opening right in front of me. Sharpshot, seeming rather pissed that said charter had been interrupted, took this one. Using his magic he gripped the gun the pony before us was holding, a burst of shots going into the ceiling above us. That was followed by the abomination’s barrel rotating out, and two slugs being fired into the grounder’s midsection and neck. There was nothing left of both when he was done, splattering myself and the walls around us with blood, muscle, and organ. He then shut the door with his magic, snarling.
“Fucking asshats,” He whispered. “Can’t allow a normal, civilized conversation.”
With the wink he gave me, and the way he stressed “civilized” agitated me, but I continued to let his attempts to rile me up slide. He motioned to the wall, trying to gauge if the pony that had come at us was them or someone different. I got a nod, and just to make sure I wasn’t being fooled I looked down at my E.F.S. to crosscheck what he was telling me. Sharpshot was telling the truth; he was still there, though there were two other red dots moving right above him. It was hard to separate them with the way the red of each dot blended into each other. The other one stood farther to the right, off on its own, but there was no arrow indicating they were on a separate floor.
I gave Sharpshot a nod, and his horn came to life. The door opened, and as a coordinated unit the two of us entered and immediately opened fire. Knowing a grounder was hidden from view by the door, I pointed myself at it and emptied several rounds into the door, filling it with as many holes as I could. The red dot still stood, to my discontent. My ear twitched at the sound of gunfire to my left, but my eyes instead landed on the three shots that came at me from the other side of the door. One missed, one grazed me, and the last of them found its way into my shoulder. Biting my lower lip and the trigger as hard as possible, I fired back at them until I saw the red dot disappear from the bottom of my vision.
My heart thumped, eyes strained forward and ears ringing as silence came upon us. I went to move but found a clothed body sitting me down as I finally let go of my lower lip. Neither of my injuries felt life threatening, but they hurt enough to make my breathing feel more labored than anything. Adrenaline should have kicked in, but with no fighting to immediately focus on that wasn’t a possibility. I heard the door closed, and violet eyes suddenly met my own.
“You good?” Sharpshot asked. He wasn’t asking out of concern as much as he was asking out of intrigue.
“Hurts like tartarus, but nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” I told him. A rare chuckle left me, the thrill of battle having awakened a true emotional response within me. “You should see some of the other hits I’ve taken. Especially… fuck!”
I closed my eyes as I felt something inside my shoulder move, unsure of whether I should squirm or not. It was even heard not to vocalize the pain I was feeling as the object was forcefully pushed forward, though it seemed content to simply slide itself through the hole already made in me. After a minute of pure agony the cause of said pain exited my shoulder, a squeal of discomfort tearing its way through my throat and out my muzzle. My eyes opened, the ugly form of a bullet coated in blood levitating between Sharpshot and myself.
“Feeling worse doesn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch,” the ghoul replied, voice less taunting and more melancholy. His magic brought a health potion he kept in nicely camouflaged saddlebags up to my lips. “This might help a little bit.”
“You kept that from me… till now? I asked, swiping the potion and bringing it to my lips. I nearly gagged, the citrusy flavor a bit too overpowering with this particular bottle. As soon as I was empty I threw it at the ghoul, who simply slipped himself to the left to avoid it. “Fucking zombie.”
He frowned at me, but his reply had nothing to do with my insult. “You’re a tough mare. I figured a shot to the leg wouldn’t do you in that much. Reminds me of an idiot I knew a long time ago, except you're actually smart and have four working hooves.”
I scoffed, getting to my hooves as the potion did its thing, feeling my shoulder sow itself back together with precision. Precision that Sharpshot had just shown in a very different, more impressive form. I couldn’t tell if it was as a show of camaraderie or if he simply wanted to show off, but throughout the bullet removal I had borne painful witness to the fact that he hadn't damaged any more of my shoulder than was already ruptured. I could imagine that, if he had stayed in whatever stable he was born in, he would have likely been a medical pony. As I removed the bandages, I noticed him looking over me for some odd reason.
“Did the potion miss something?” I inquired.
“No, it’s just….” he tapped his muzzle, smiling at me. “You react a lot differently, seeing as it took multiple proddings to get even the tiniest true reaction out of you, but you really are like her.” He took a step away as I rose to my hooves, and horn swinging the door open. “You have a pony by the name of Star Chart in your family.”
I raised a brow. “The fact you know their name worries me. They died a long time ago, but she was considered one of the Enclaves best.”
“Huh, what are the odds,” Sharpshot replied, his smile growing ever so slightly. He started to walk out of the apartment. “Your comment can be overlooked then… for now.”
“It can be forgotten,” I spat. “We got a job to do.”
I heard him mumble something about me “having a similar temper”, but ignored it in favor of getting back to work. As I made after him I rolled my shoulder and stretched the hoof that had been it earlier, feeling like they had never been ripped open. Better than another damn scar, which had become more common with the more pegasi picked apart the wasteland. One can only find so many out there, pre-war potions typically significantly less guarded and more safe than anything a grounder could make now. Judging by the lack of any immediate side effects, this one was pre-war. Probably the real reason he had held off.
We climbed the stairs up another floor, guns trained at where our next destination lay. When our hooves stepped off the stairs, the E.F.S.indicated that none of them were supposedly present. To be exact, none had given the E.F.S. any belief that they were hostile. There had been an usually large group on the first two floors, with more above us, and I wasn’t about to be the soldier who stupidly moved past a door without checking it. I motioned Sharpshot to the door for this apartment and stepped in front of him.
What we found was emptiness, a pleasant surprise after two floors of contacts. I didn’t relax, staying steady as I watched every object for movement. There had been ponies in here, but they had left earlier. I wagered that the two on the ground floor were from here, and perhaps the one that just to sneak up on us at the stairs. Now it was as abandoned as it had likely stayed for the last two centuries.
“Cleared?” Sharpshot asked.
“Clear,” I answered. “Next floor.”
Out of that apartment and back to the stairs we went, the only sounds either of us could hear were our hooves echoing against walls. My eyes glanced right as we reached the fourth floor, noting the way both the wall and ceiling had collapsed in. There wasn’t enough room to squeeze through, but one could see the light of Celestia’s sun try to peek through. I managed to find the one spot where the shadow of rubble couldn’t keep the light and heat of day from hitting me. I had firmly believed I wouldn’t see or feel the sun again after Trotson, so I enjoyed what I got.
“Two marks here, two marks above,” Sharpshot said, telling me what my E.F.S. was already explaining. “Must be some other way to the fifth floor, unless they were stupid enough to collapse their only way out.”
“Wouldn’t be the dumbest things raiders have ever done,” I responded. I followed that up by tapping my head with my hoof. “Oh, and I see it too. They shoved Stable-tech shit in my brain.”
He gave me a quick glance, nodded, and then turned his attention towards the apartment. “Remind me to break it for ya later. ArcanaTech doesn’t care about pony privacy.”
I raised my brow at the name. “ArcanaTech?”
“That’s the real name of the ponies who run this city,” He explained, doing a quick inspection of his abomination. “Don’t know much about them, but what little I’ve gathered has told me they’re descendants of the ministries. Specifically the Ministries of Arcane Sciences and Wartime Technology.”
How a group of wastelanders had managed to hijack an S.P.P. tower suddenly made significantly more sense. I was still unsure as to the how or why, given they shouldn’t have been able to even with those skills, but it was a mystery for later. The more I learned about them, the more dangerous they seemed, and the more sure I was that the stolen documents couldn’t end up in their hooves. Especially considering what I knew my former squadmates had been specifically looking for.
“I’ll tell you more when I’m certain they are not watching,” the ghoul said quietly. “We both got S.A.T.S., so I’ll blow the door down and we’ll take the two out simultaneously.”
I looked at the E.F.S. and noted the position of both hostiles that lay behind the door. As long as they weren’t already behind cover, and they hadn’t heard us, that would work. I gave Sharpshot a nod and stacked up one more time, ready to enact our plan. Two slugs to the hinges, a bolt of pure magic, and the door separating us from our enemies was blown inwards. Wasting no time I entered the room and immediately activated S.A.T.S.
The slowing of time allowed me to see my surroundings, catching not only how light poured in from the crumbling back of the apartment. Then there was the poor grounder who had received a flying door to the face, and his friend was surprised and left all to under prepared. I could have easily taken them both before they fired, but I decided to test Sharpshot’s ability to follow his own plan.
The pony who was currently kissing a door was the pony on the left, so two shots were cued for their legs. Time resumed, a quick flurry of ammo met my ears to my right and a pony fell to the ground with an incinerated leg via energy rounds. They didn’t have time to cry out before another shot from the novasurge met their skull and silenced them. Another body dropped next to theirs at the same exact time, belonging to their friends.
It had all gone perfectly. A rarity that I wouldn’t overlook, given how most plans died right at the sound of gunfire.
“Eyes up. E.F.S. is showing movement above us,” I said, looking at what was exposed on the floor above us.
The room had been made uneven by the half-collapse of the roof and fifth floor apartment. Given that only a pegasus could probably get to stable ground on the fifth, it was ruled out of possibility; no grounder could reach that. It was definitely not where the supply drop was so there was no reason for one to be there anyways, even if they were a unicorn. Doubt they felt very safe in such a confined space… though you always had to be prepared.
I trotted backwards up the large chunks of rubble, eyeing everything as I made my way up. Even as I saw nothing on the fifth floor I refused to remove my eyes. All that was behind me right now would be a slope and a five floor drop. Flank was technically too the wall, but something told me I had no reason to worry. If they hadn’t come to help their friends, it meant they were likely scared of us. That judgment was correct, given that as soon as the top of my head was over the roof a shot whizzed by me.
A very bad, wildly off target shot at that.
“Y-you fired? Why the fuck did you–“
“I-I-I panicked okay! I don’t want to die like the others. I thought if I shot we might be safe from whoever it is.”
They were younger ponies, likely in their early twenties and having thought whatever they were doing was cool. Either that, or they were from some settlement I didn’t know or care about. As soon as they saw us, they dropped their weapons and started to back up, leaving a large fortified case unguard. Stretching my wings and seeing that the healing potions had brought back my snipped feathers, I jumped, flapped twice, and landed on the roof. My face was stern, giving a look that most anypony would cower at. I’m positive it was only sheer will that kept them from stepping off the building .
Up till now I had only mentioned failures, but one doesn’t become a Lieutenant Colonel by failure. I was high up the chain of command, a member of the damn council that gave me my exile, and none of that was because I got ponies killed. Through those few failures was a line of successes, missions seemingly unimportant to most had guided my path up the chain of command. Through it, I became that which had given me that damn medal for Trotson and became respected and feared. When my former squadmates took those documents, they robbed me of a lifetime of work.
So to see two ponies terrified of me left a numbed but noticeable joy in my heart.
“P-please don’t kill us. I’m sorry for shooting you,” one coward pleaded.
“W-w-w-we had to. It wasn’t our choice. If we didn’t they might have killed us,” the other coward lied. All of what he claimed was impossible, for all other targets had been eliminated.
Sharpshot, mask put back on at some point, rolled his eyes at them as he came up next to me, doing what I was too formal to. That was followed by a disappointed shake in his head and the click of his tongue. He trotted past, laying his abomination on the ground and letting go of it with his telekinesis. One of the cowards tried to move back, only to nearly fall off the building yet again. He let out a small chuckle and walked back to my side seemingly satisfied with whatever he had wanted. I didn’t learn until later what he had been eyeing: the kind of fear I put into their hearts.
“Well, all life is expendable,” He said, magically gripping his abomination and resting it on his shoulder in just the right way. The barrel was now pointed at the second coward. “Kill them?”
I watched their eyes widen. Content, I aimed my novasurge rifle at them. “Of course.”
With that, bullets flew. Two corpses fell off the building to be forgotten as just another of the wasteland’s victims. There was no true reason to kill them with their surrender, but there was no reason to save them. They were the blighted remains of the once great old Equestria, lost forever. Killing them was a mercy.