Chapter 8-

Inside Bets

“Civilization? I’ll stay right here!”

Next morning, I had woken up on the train and was eating another of my provisions in place of a ‘wasteland breakfast’, in the furthest back passenger car away from other ponies. I had my pistol laid out for cleaning on the seat across from me.

Looking out the window at the long stretching desert, I watched the landscape go by. Suddenly we’d arrived, and I could see civilization. Outside we were passing worker ponies were breaking up rock in order to lay the foundations for future construction. Excavations being done out in the middle of the desert. “What are they building?” I wondered to myself. “More factories?” Some ponies would talk about the march of civilization moving forward, while the rest of the wasteland out here looked empty just beyond it. It was a little breath taking. Only one S.P.P. tower was closeby overshadowing us, with Dodge being on edge of the endless stretch of suicide that was the San Palomino Desert.

A steel mill-like factory marked with the logo “Desperado Steel”, likely pre-war, made parts of Dodge City almost begin to resemble a smaller Fillydelphia in the making.

Taking a quick look back at my service rifle, I considered on and off if upgrading to a higher caliber weapon would be a good idea, before I went to go confront Jagged and his gang. Thinking back to that battle how many shots it would take just to take down one of the raiders and weighing it against my meager collection of bottlecaps. I just kind of grabbed it without thinking out of necessity, certainly not because it was my first choice in firearm.

All of a sudden the train lurched to a screeching halt, causing some of the parts of my gun to go flying. Annoyed, I picked up all the pieces and double checked to make sure everything was accounted before putting it back together as quickly as possible. I could hear the conductor going around to all the cars outside, trying to check for passengers. I called to let him know I was back here and gathered all my things before stepping off the train.

Outside, a few armed guards and passengers who’d made the commute to Dodge City were waiting. Unfortunately I didn’t see Sunny, Sting or Angel Eyes anywhere. “I guess I must’ve beat them here after all” I thought, deciding I’d just speak with whatever New Canterlot official was in charge, once I got into town. “Tch”.

“Why’d the train stop?” I asked, sounding irritated by the inconvenience.

“Ya gotta take the wagon into town,” he replied, waving his hoof reassuringly. “Worry not, It won’t be but a few extra minutes.”

“The wagon?” I repeated, glancing over my shoulder at the old stage coach with puller ponies hitched to it. “Why though?” The conductor pointed to the busted up tracks, which were blasted outward indicating explosives.

The rust coated conductor pony replied with an exasperated yet ominous, “You’ll see…” Eyeing my rifle, pistol and battle-saddle he looked back up at me a second time and added, “By the way, you’ll want to take that weapon off your battle-saddle before we get into town. There’s a loose no-drawn weapons policy here enforced by the Dodge City Gang. Unless you want to end up in the hoosegow, stow your weapons before we ride into town. Pistol too.”

I gave him a strange look and hopped into the wagon with a few other ponies.

“No guns?” I gave him a funny look. “Are you kidding me?” But all of the other ponies were already busy complying. As soon as I removed my gear we began the bumpy ride into town. Nopony spoke as the wagon wheels squeaked along. I just sat by watching all the ponies working in the ditch, swinging sledgehammers. A lot of these buildings didn’t used to be here… It was weird.

“It’s special Dodge City ordinance which applies to New Canterlot personnel or anyone deemed a threat. That's part of the agreement that allows us to operate here. Only residents of Dodge City are permitted to carry guns openly within the jurisdiction of the town. You’ll be allowed to carry at the New Canterlot territorial embassy once you've had the proper paperwork filled out.” He gestured at my rifle and sidearm. “One fella a few weeks ago forgot and nearly got shot up by the Dodge City Gang, darn nearly sparked a big conflict.”

I pouted, all of that sounding incredibly unfair. I’d never heard of a place in the wasteland that was so damn strict on guns for specific ponies. It certainly wasn’t this way before.

The wagon driver spoke along the bouncy ride, giving us a quick rundown. He pointed in the direction of town, giving instructions so I understood where everything was as I leaned outside the cart watching ponies in the work ditch going by. All of it was instruction about what I should do once I got there. “Local New Canterlot office is at the station house. That’s where the barracks is. You’ll have to check in with Colonel Peregrine since you’re with New Canterlot.”

Dodge used to be some empty wasteland town out in the middle of nowhere. Now it was a major trading partner with New Canterlot. “What a day and age we live in.” I thought to myself, scoffing. Ponies just kept on moving as if we weren’t all trying to kill each other less than a year ago like it was business as usual.

Ponies in the work ditch sweat under the hot sun, breaking up the rock in order to lay foundations for future structures. This place was in the middle of nowhere though, and I couldn’t be bothered to ask myself what was the reason for the sudden boom in industry. I felt bored and sweaty just watching them, like I was in a daze. Then we skid to a halt without warning as the puller ponies dug their hooves in to brake the wagon.

I looked up and asked, “Hey, why’d we stop?” Other ponies had stopped what they were doing as well, much to my confusion. As I turned my head around, I thought I could hear a strange noise in one ear, it sounded like... buffalo?

Suddenly, a rush of galloping hooves thundered by, tipping over the wagon like a tornado. I was thrown against the side and tumbled out of the cart and into the dust, along with most of the other ponies riding.

I clutched my skull, feeling like I’d hit a rock, and I heard ponies muttering from the work ditch. “Here we go again…”

Rubbing the throbbing bump on my head, I groaned loudly. Unable to feel my leg as I struggled to bring myself to my hooves, I looked down and saw another barely-conscious pony laying on top of me. I pushed the unconscious stallion off and stood upright, then looked around for the source of the disturbance.

A group of buffalo were standing not far from me, covered in white warpaint, black feathers and braided fur. They were carrying machine gun battle-saddles. I was hardly an expert on buffalo, but they looked pretty young based on their appearances. Their leader, who appeared to be the biggest, strongest and stupidest among them, was dressed up in yellow and red tribal war-markings and a black buzzard feather headdress.

The lead buffalo cleared his throat and began to speak. “*Ahem*....Hear me New Canterlot!” came a great booming voice as dusted myself off , “I am the mighty warchief of the Great Horns Buffalo tribe, Battlescar!”

I slowly looked around at everypony who was just standing by not doing or saying anything, like I was the only sane pony around here as he continued his rant. “Is nopony gonna do anything?!” I shouted, but they all just stood by watching.

“I will trample your civilization into the dust! I will burn your ashes to ashes, and salt the earth where you stand! I will deliver upon you an apocalypse ten-times what the last one was! None can withstand the unstoppable might, of the almighty warchief Battlescar! Do none of you cowards dare to challenge me?!” he bellowed.

Growling as I drew up my rifle, I noticed the wagon driver waving his hooves frantically at a nearby sign telling me to ‘stow my weapons’. “What? No guns, are you kidding me? This is the wasteland!” I snapped. “They have guns!” The wagon driver shrugged.

Muttering to myself, I shouted, “Hey, what’s the big idea?! Why don’t you watch where you’re going?!”

Battlescar took one look at me and burst out laughing, somehow finding something about my statement amusing. “Ahahaha! ‘You’ will challenge me? All New Canterlot can spare to send me is one little mare?!”

Cracking my joints, I snarled. “I’d be happy to kick your ass, if you’re making a request.”

The scar-covered buffalo laughed even louder. “Ahahaha! And by what right do you challenge me?”

“Whu-?” Was something supposed to be funny? I was totally lost. So I snarked back, rolling up my sleeves, “By right of I’m the goddess damned princess of ass-kicking!”

Battlescar laughed, pointing at me while his friends were rolling around on the ground pounding the dirt. “What foolishness! I laugh at you! Ha! And ‘ha’ again! You have not even earned the right to face me! New Canterlot, next time send me a worthier opponent than this mare, and ‘then’ your day of reckoning will come! If by the sundown of the next full moon you do not grant me a worthy challenge, I will claim all lands to the south of here along with this blight of a city!” Finally, turning to his two closest buddies, they quickly stood at attention. “Pale Face! Ghost Legs!” he called out. “Let’s ride!”

“Earned? What the hell are you on about, you freaking idio-?!”

Before I could get another word out they charged, trampling over me and galloping off into the desert. They disappeared almost as quickly as they arrived.

I sat up with hoof marks all over my face and blinked twice to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. “What the hell was that about?!” Maybe I was starting to lose my touch. I looked all around to make sure nopony was pulling a prank on me. Discord was just something superstitious wasteland ponies believed in, crawling around like a lizard and sticking extra ammunition and random junk inside containers.

Some of the worker ponies had paused to watch and were snickering amongst themselves at me, as ponies attempted to turn the wagon upright. Thankfully everyone was okay.

A nearby older stallion’s voice sighed, “That’s the third time this week…”

I felt myself enveloped by telekinesis and brought upright onto my hooves, where I was then dusted off by the magic glowing aura. I flailed oddly, trying to reach the ground, before I was released. The stallion’s voice belonged to a yellow unicorn with an orange and beige-striped mane. “Sorry for the welcome wagon. Name’s Crane, I’m the forepony for the railroad here. It’s a pleasure to meetcha.” He tipped his construction hat with his telekinesis, and almost effortlessly returned the wagon ride-side up, allowing the other ponies to gather their bearings as they groaned in discomfort.

“I’ll be fine, thanks. Name’s Roulette.” I said, introducing myself. “What, you mean they do this all the time?”

The stallion nodded without a hint of irony. “That’s right. There used to be a peaceful tribe around these parts, called the Stronghearts, but they disappeared some years ago according to locals. Now we just got these jokers to deal with.”

Looking back towards the desert towards where they ran off, I grumbled, “Well they certainly make a hell of a first impression...”

Crane chuckled to himself. “Yup. This new Great Horns tribe ain’t been too shy about what they think of ponies neither. Never kill nobody though, is probably the only reason ole Peregrine has been soft on em up until now. Instead they show up to wreck the tracks several times a week and cause all sorts of trouble. Then Battlescar goes on a short rant and they run off again. Same deal, every time. It’s a darn miracle nopony’s gotten shot yet. Good thing too. There’s enough bad blood to go around, if ya ask me...” The last part, he said forebodingly.

Changing the topic, I asked, “On the off chance, you wouldn’t happen to know an ‘Appleshot Brandy’ would you?”

“Eyup, sure do! She’s the owner of the Saloon down on mainstreet. Contractors like us don’t know many of the locals, mostly working the railroads, but we all know her.” he answered. As he spoke he swapped a few of the tracks almost effortlessly using his telekinesis.

“Not from around here?” I asked.

“Nope. Originally from New Appleloosa,” he answered, forthcomingly. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me? Me being the best telekinetic in the wasteland n’ all. Even showed the Stable Dweller a thing or two in my old age!”

I scratched the back of my mane. Unfortunately, being an earth pony, I hadn’t really kept up with all of the famous unicorns in the wasteland. Unless the Lightbringer counted in that number. “Could you point me to whoever is in charge around here?”

“Well, if you’re looking on working the line, if ya can haul a load or swing a hammer I’d be happy to hire ya. Otherwise just talk to Colonel Peregrine if you’re here on more ‘New Canterlot’ type business.” He trailed off, glaring at a small red-orange lizard crawling on the tracks nearby. “Maybe you can manage to solve my salamander problem for me…” the stallion mentioned with a hint of irritation.

It stopped and turned to look at him, cocked its head and scampered off. “Darn varmints out here love lighting up anything they can find. Heating up the rails and bending the metal or lighting the cross ties on fire. Pests, I tell ya...” he cursed, muttering to himself.

Then he pointed over towards the train station in the distance and I began to walk along the side of the dusty road towards town by myself.

“Thanks.” I said with a slight wave of my hoof.

I cautiously glanced again at the “stow your weapons” sign directly outside the city limits, where a couple members of the Dodge City Gang wearing their trademark dark-brown dusters had shown up to check out what was going on. They gave me a dirty look after noticing my armor, before making a judgement that there was no cause for alarm and went back to what they were doing. All seemed to be business as usual. To them, I was just another New Canterlot pony in this armor.

Some merchants were congregating near the entrance, dealing chems and other illicit items. An oversized muscular goat with just a hint of mutation, served as a bodyguard to a female donkey selling questionable merchandise. His hide looked bloodshot, covered in patches of motley brown fur barely being contained by a patchwork button-up shirt. They called them ‘Radgoats’, depending on who you asked. The donkey merchant not-so-subtly hoofed over a few bottlecaps to one of the lawponies before the sale was allowed to go through.

That must’ve been what passed for local law around here. A small reminder of what I was myself stepping into. Muttering to myself how I felt that they seemed particularly useless as far as law ponies went. Not caring at all about a mare getting trampled by Buffalo. The nerve!

Dodge City was run by the mayor and her gang of of thugs, but the other notable gangs in the city included the Lucky Sevens, the Brawlers, and the Boudoirs, which more or less functioned as a sort of corrupt city council, and together they all served the Dodge City Gang's interests. There was also a Mercenaries’ Union now, but they must've been relatively new.

As I headed into town, the first thing anyone noticed was the gigantic black Ironclad Firearms factory, looming over the remains of the rustic frontier settlement. During the Great War, they specialized in creating heavy military-grade weapons and were the main rivals to the illustrious Ironshod Firearms Company that my service rifle's design was based on. Some of the war propaganda posters from back then had even managed to survive to this day on the sides of certain structures, with reminders to purchase firearms from Ironclad and support the troops. The factory itself also doubled as the mayor’s office, with the sharp contrast of architecture becoming more apparent as urban sprawl stretched outward into the desert.

Then I caught it. The stench of corruption filling the air. Most of them seemed to be scummy mercenaries, thieves or raiders of certain sorts. This was the refuse unwanted by New Canterlot. Gawd’s crackdown in her territory had driven many on the other side of the law to seek refuge in Dodge City, it seemed. I barely even knew where to begin. “How am I supposed to find Sunny in a place like this?” I wondered to myself. There were so many heads walking around too. And not just ponies either. Practically every equine race and creature you could think of was walking around Dodge. Oddly enough, the only one that seemed to be missing from the collection of wasteland denizens was pegasi...

Cherry Hill Ranch sat nearby, the mansion overlooking Dodge City on a hill, not too far from the town. With lush green and pink trees all over the property, it looked like an oasis by comparison to this lawless place.

Close to the factory was the train station, which served as New Canterlot's HQ all the way out here. Also my first destination. A lone soldier sat, bored to tears in the ticket booth, acting as a makeshift guard post. The mare nodded to me as I passed her on the way inside to speak with the griffon in charge, overhearing her snide commentary about the heat making her wish for an out-of-season winter-rad-up.

The station house served as a perfectly functional office where everything was kept tidy and neatly organized, with papers stacked and files stored properly. The old griffon offered me a seat in the chair across from him. After I told him my story, he seemed very interested in what I had to say.

Colonel “Steelbeak” Peregrine, was an appropriately nicknamed old no nonsense griffon who served in ‘the war’ and was a prominent Talon and Enclave War veteran in his time, now working for New Canterlot’s behalf. He had many scars and also a steel beak-plate literally welded onto his upper beak.

“So you fought in the Enclave Wars, Colonel?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“That’s right! All three of em!” he blustered proudly. “At least as far as the most recent ones go. Darn bug-eyes never did like to acknowledge them as anything more than skirmishes though. But you just ask em about Trotwynd and watch their feathers fall out! Ha!”

“Tea?” a young female griffon with red plumage wearing an officer’s uniform offered me a teacup filled with weird looking brown liquid. I’d never had tea before. By contrast, she was a lot more bubbly than the older bushy-browed veteran Talon. Ginger was her name and she held the rank of lieutenant, mostly acting on behalf of the Colonel as his personal secretary. She also had slightly dark markings around her eyes and a cheery disposition that slightly reminded me of Sunny’s.

Taking a sip of the liquid, it tasted funny. Bitter, but oddly soothing down my throat, even as it burnt my tongue a little.

“You also say you ran into lil Battlescar, huh?” he chuckled to himself, although judging from my memory he was hardly what I would’ve have called ‘little’. “Real batch of troublemakers they are. To be honest with you, most of us are completely stumped right now on how to deal with them. Certain folks back in New Canterlot don’t want it to come to violence. They think that by engaging them it’ll hurt our chances of getting the Buffalo to join up with Gawd’s new N.C.R., meanwhile others want to take a more proactive approach. If they don’t want to get along and play “civilized” for too long, that is…”

I had no idea why New Canterlot would be interested in some troublemaking buffalo. Perhaps some politicians thought they’d make good soldiers. Looking back at him, I asked. “N.C.R.? You mean the alliance?”

“More or less.” The old griffon stirred his tea to cool it down and took a sip. “It is a bit humorous, to be truthful. One problem though is the buffalo know these parts better than most ponies. Makes them extremely difficult to track down and speak with one-on-one. And when we try they don’t feel like talking much. Can’t really pin em down and force em to listen, and it ain’t like we’ve got any Skyrangers to spare here either... I swear, all it’s gonna take is the Dodge City mayor or some griffon back in New Canterlot getting ornery over lack of progress, then deciding to deal with them the ‘wasteland way’. Then it’ll be out of my claws at that point. But, that’s bureaucracy for you.” he ceded, setting his teacup back down on his desk. “Orders are orders. And I’ve got mine to sit here and oversee bringing Dodge to the table with New Canterlot on negotiations.”

“I see…” I replied, subtly dumping the liquid in a nearby potted plant. That sounded about right, based on my own encounter. It seemed apparent to me that they were probably playing their own side in this, but otherwise unimportant to my current goals.

He sat tapping his steel beak-plate. “Roulette, was it? I’m glad you came to me first with your problem. Dunno much about bug-eye weaponry or vertibucks flying around the Smokeys, that’s more Neighvarro’s department...”

Pulling Sting’s laser pistol out of my saddle bag, I showed it to him. He took it in his claws, examining it with a handy pair of reading-spectacles he kept in his uniform before giving it back to me.

“But perhaps our ‘interests’ might coincide with each other...” he said interlocking his talons as he sat back at his desk.

I raised an eyebrow, waiting to hear his proposal.

“What I’m saying basically is… I’ve been trying to get to the bottom of a smuggling ring that’s being carried in and out of Dodge. I want to know if it’s somehow connected to the Dodge City gang, and this might be just what I need to finally prove it.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Because if the Dodge City Gang is somehow involved, it’ll show New Canterlot that the mayor’s been acting in bad faith. It’ll give us a leg up in negotiations with her. There’s been a big effort to rebuild the railroad in the New Canterlot territories, and the train runs between here and Junction Town almost every other day. We need Dodge City steel for the railroads and other projects, so effectively my talons are tied on this matter. A might inconvenient, on account of Dodge being one of our best trade partners right now… But this might actually convince them to take a more strongarmed approach in dealing with the old hag.”

“What about Fillydelphia?” I asked.

A hint of annoyance in his voice, he panged, “You probably saw some of the steel refineries on your way into town? We only recently gained access to a few of the factories in Filly. Gawd’s been aiming to further expand our influence there. Increase our output towards reconstruction throughout the rest of the territory. Although truthfully, it ends up drawing a ton of resources just to hold it. Hell of a state Red Eye and his slavers left it in after the Battle of Fillydelphia, lemme tell ya... So in the meantime, we're forced to use Dodge City 'Desperado Steel', but the mayor knows she’s got us over a damned barrel!” He banged his claw on his desk, nearly causing his teacup to spill.

Growing tired of listening to an old griffon complain about politics and eager to get onto business, I said, “I’m only looking for two specific ponies. One’s a raider boss named Jagged Knife who fled here, with possible connection to the recent caravan hits. I’m also positive that he was the one responsible for arming the raiders in the territory. And he might’ve also had something to do with the recent raid on New Canterlot Valley from a couple nights ago. The other was a seafoam pegasus mare. Her name is Sunny Hymn.”

“Jagged, huh? He sounds, familiar. Didn’t we already take care of him, Ginger?” he tapped on his metal beakplate, making a metallic sound each time.

I grunted through my teeth in annoyance, “I can assure you, he’s still at large...”

Ginger chimed in, flipping through a dossier, “Jagged Knife is one of the mayor’s hired guns. She hired him shortly after Cauterize, and he’s one of her higher ranking operatives in the Dodge City Gang. Remember sir? You detailed him extensively in the last report you sent out...”

“If that's true, there'll be hell to pay. I've been caught up handling trade negotiations here on Gawdyna's behalf, but why haven’t those featherheads in New Canterlot done anything about this yet?! According to this mare he’s gallivanting around the territory organizing hits on our caravans and we’re just sitting on our asses!”

“Something else has come up that’s drawing most of their attention.” The red plumed female griffon said as she examined a pinned bulletin on the side of the wall. "I believe there were new reports this morning that said they’re pinning it all on Papa Bighoof, their local raider warlord, instead.”

He sat up in his chair. “What?!” he exclaimed. “Do they even read the reports?”

Ginger cleared her throat. “Did you send the abridged version I made instead of the three hundred page draft you wrote...?”

“That’s obvious,” he squawked. “I sent the three hundred page one of course! They should have all the facts! How are you supposed to come to the right conclusion if you’re missing ninety percent of the context?!”

Ginger chided, “You need to make your reports shorter sir. Not everyone has the time or patience to read that much...”

“Nonsense!” he shot back boisterously, “I breeze through two hundred year old legal documents in my spare time! This is nothing!”

She smiled and laughed hesitantly to herself, “Heh, not everygriffon is you sir…”

“And what about the other one?” I pressed. “She was kidnapped and taken here.”

Steelbeak furrowed his bushy brows while a grim but reserved expression crossed his face. “Kidnapped? Best worst case scenario: forced prostitution. Possibly dead. We don’t make the rules here in Dodge. Necessity outweighs moral cost to the top brass calling the shots.”

Feeling overcome with regret, I put my head in my hooves and muttered, “Prostitution? Dammit, it’s all my fault…” I pounded on his desk in frustration.

“A seafoam pegasus mare...?” Ginger’s eyes lit up as she had a sudden thought, “Oh! You mean the mayor’s new caretaker up at Cherry Hill Ranch? A pony matching that description arrived in town yesterday afternoon on a skycart with three other ponies. That’s right, she was accompanying a few members of the Dodge City Gang. Funny, I didn’t realize she’d be so popular.”

I stood up and blurted out, “Ginger, you’re amazing!”

She tried hard to hide her own embarrassment. “I keep track of as many ponies coming and going from town as I can.” Puffing up her chest and looking proud of herself she chuckled, “Hehe yeah, I don’t mean to brag but… I’m really good at my job.”

I’d have kissed her if it wouldn’t come across as totally weird. That was great news! Knowing she was alright gave me a small sense of relief, followed by confusion. “Wait, is she working with the raiders now?!”

“Well, the mayor hired her yesterday, supposedly just after she got here.” she answered.

“No, there has to be a reasonable explanation for this,” I thought, trying not to jump to conclusions for once. For now I was just happy to hear that she was alright.

What looked like a smirk crossed the old griffon’s steel-plated beak. “My thinking is along the lines that: you and I can both help each other out.” he grinned. I was really starting to like this griffon. “What I could really use right now is a free agent.”

I grinned back. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking...?” I put my hooves up on the colonel’s desk, getting excited. “You’ve gotta get me in to see the mayor!”

“That’s the ticket!” he cheered, snatching a clawful of air. “And she doesn’t know your face yet, so you’re in the perfect position to do so. I’ll provide you with whatever you need, and in return report back to me anything you find about the mayor’s dealings. Find any evidence of chems or weapons smuggling into the territory that you can.”

“I’m game if you are!” I said with a devilish grin.

“Damn straight! Now it all makes sense! She’s hitting our caravans to try and increase demand from Dodge City and drive up business on her end. We got that old bitch right where we want her!”

Ginger looked unsure between the three of us, as both me and the Colonel were getting caught up in the heat of the moment. “Are you sure that’s what’s going on here, sir...?”

“What else could it be?” he chuckled, confidently dismissing her concerns with a claw-wave. “As for Papa Bighoof, maybe she’s just trying to keep eyes off of her?” Wearing an impetuous smirk as he fantasized aloud to himself, he said, "I can’t wait to bust into that old hag’s office and slap this in front of her face. The look on her lips will be priceless!”

“Y’know, I wish more griffons were like you. All the other ones I meet are super stingy about following the rules and contract to the letter!” I smirked, getting caught up in the heat of the moment. I wasn’t so sure about the Colonel’s theory myself, but at least we were finally getting somewhere.

“I’ll give you two hundred bottlecaps out of pocket if you can find me anything. Three hundred if it’s juicy. We’ll get to the bottom of the source of the caravan attacks and deal with the chem problem in one fell swoop!” he said. Then, he pulled out a stack of papers and a writing quill, and sat back in his seat. He huffed and began filling out paperwork in ink. “Come back in two weeks.” he said flatly, and I suddenly felt a cold wind blowing as all the excitement drained out of room and I was left trying to mentally process his words.

“TWO WEEKS?!” I shouted so loud that some of the soldiers outside probably heard me. “What the hell?! I don’t have two weeks to sit on my ass and do nothing!”

He didn’t even bat an eye at my outburst, calmly replying. “Mayor Rubi Royale doesn’t meet with New Canterlot often except to negotiate trade relations, so you’re operating on her schedule. By books, it’s two weeks. On short notice this is the best I can do. Throwing away protocol is against the rules! And without rules, where would we be?! Anarchy! That’s where! But of course... if you happen to find another way to get an audience with her, and then you so happen to find the information I’m looking for and drop it in my lap... Well let’s just say I wouldn’t exactly stand in your way. Keep me posted. If you need work, speak with Crane. I’ll try to get into contact with New Canterlot about it in the meantime.”

I nodded, beginning to understand what he was getting at. “Oh… right. I gotcha.”

Colonel Peregrine cleared his throat. “...by the way that’ll be four bottlecaps for service-taxes.”

Grumbling as I walked out into the midday sun. Taxes had to be the dumbest idea in the history of the wasteland. I scrunched my face and squinted upwards. For some reason being in the desert always felt hotter than just being under normal sunshine. Not that I wasn’t used to the heat by now. Still too bright.

Dodge was a city on the edge of civilization by practically every standard. A boomtown during the war, it had boomed again in recent months, and it was big enough that I might have difficulty finding the pony I was looking for on my own.

Some of the wartime posters had actually survived on the factory and in parts of old town. On one hoof, it encapsulated everything about the wasteland I knew from before the Enclave; bandits, lawlessness, along with all manner of scum and villainy. On the other, the Dodge City Gang had taken up control of the city and were trying to bring civilization to this place. Cowpony’s in dark dusters that marked their authority paced up and down the streets occasionally, while some stood in front of certain businesses of interest.

There was mainstreet with salvaged neon signs and guarded businesses, built up from what was left of old town Dodge, and that was where most of the hoof traffic was. Creaking wooden plank walks that were raised above dirt roads followed along on either side of the street. But beyond that were the slums and rebuilt remains of Dodge from during the war, made up of snaking alleyways of wrecked wartime structures and small-time gang turfs.

I got a few ponies giving me the evil eye as I hoofed my way through town. All the dirty looks was probably on account of the armor. Discarded trash littered the ground where I walked. Drunks and destitutes paced the streets, while scam artists and thieves kept to the alleyways. I even got a solicitation to star in a ‘sex’ memory orb from some creepy looking stallion, resisting my extreme urge to punch him in the face.

“Hey, you look tough.” whispered some shady pony hiding in the gaps between two structures. “Want to fight in the gauntlet? Grand prize is 10,000 bottlecaps.”

“Ten thousand?” I drooled a little at the prospect, but kept pace.

A drunk pony lay sleeping in an alleyway where some old discolored posters were slapped up against a wall, so much so that I couldn’t make out what any of them said, but on second look I realized that he had been stabbed in the gut and left for dead there. Ponies with the Dodge City Gang didn’t seem to care much though. I turned my head away and pretended I hadn’t noticed.

Occasionally, I could make out the faintest echoes of gunshots from somewhere within the city. Or maybe somewhere on the outskirts. It was a little hard to tell with all the ponies around, but they just kept walking around like it was business as usual. I’d have said if I had to elect a candidate for the title of ‘ass of the wasteland’, it’d be between Hoofington and this place. In short, Dodge was a collection of all my worst memories of the wasteland. The good times I spent back then felt a little faded in retrospect.

Looking up at Cherry Hill Ranch, I wondered to myself if maybe Sunny was up there. Thinking of what my next move should be, no way in hell was I going to wait two weeks to see the mayor. But without any serious firepower, I wasn’t about to go up there with gun’s blazing to kick Jagged Knife’s teeth armed with only a service rifle. There had to be another way. “What was that thing that Sunny was always telling me to do...?” I mulled inside my own head trying to think of the word. “Oh yeah, subtlety.”

Most of the shops were located on the populated mainstreet, being many of the types of places you’d expect. Any of the more raunchy establishments were off the beaten path. Chem brothels, organized fight rings, along with any activity that would normally be illegal in New Canterlot territory were all free reign here so long as you didn’t stand in the way of those in charge.

There was a general store. A single clinic in town, with a disreputable look about it. The large guns store near the Ironclad factory had members of the Dodge City Gang standing guard in front of it, almost making it look like the main attraction of the town. Then there was the Dodge City Wrangler Saloon on the edge of the street, with its old style architecture maintained and renovated over the years kept the old aesthetic going nicely.

I couldn’t resist stopping to peek through the window of the gun store, which was immediately enticing to me. Watching through the display window, I awed as I checked out their huge supply of top quality weapons. One weapon in particular caught my eye inside a sealed case, which contained a large service rifle far better quality than my own with polished wood furniture and the name ‘Winona’ carved into the buttstock. It even had optional fully automatic fire. I had no idea who the lucky lady was, but I had to have her.

I moved towards the door, trying to slip inside, but was stopped by two members of the Dodge City Gang. One of them was a gaunt unicorn with a lazy eye, who put his hoof on the door to stop me from opening it. “What are you trying to pull? New Canterlot is strictly prohibited from purchasing firearms without the proper authorization!”

They were wielding some pretty high end weapons. More than I would’ve expected for a podunk place like this. In fact, everyone around me seemed to be carrying some sort of ludicrously excessive gun. But none of the ‘Enclave’ weapons I’d been searching all over the wasteland for. Part of me was beginning to wonder if I’d even come to the right place or if Angel Eyes was just leading me on.

“Hey, I thought anyone could purchase a gun here!” I protested.

“That’s right. Anyone except for New Canterlot.” They both laughed together at their unfunny joke.

My brow furrowed in annoyance. “Well good news boys, I ain't New Canterlot.” I replied snarkily. “I just want a look, so lemme in!” Neither of them took too kindly to my response.

“Who in the hell are you trying to fool? Don’t get snippy with us, ya hear?” said the lazy eyed one.

“It don’t matter if you’re with Gawd. If you break the law, we’ll have you working a brothel for the rest of your damn life, mare. Now get your sorry hide moving unless you want Mama to change her mind on our arrangement and kick you lot out of Dodge!”

I glared knives, daring them both to try anything. Although, even if they were only making empty threats, I knew better than to further push my luck here. So I turned my head and kept on walking, eyeing the rifle longingly as I passed the display case for a second time.

At the very end of the street, was the Lucky Seven’s Casino, bringing back unwanted memories. With its familiar sights and flashing neon magic sign, a mare crier wearing an evocative outfit stood outside attempting to entice others in. Flanked by armed guard ponies.

I checked inside my bag, being reminded of the letter I still had to deliver. So I made my way to the Dodge City Wrangler on the street corner. How convenient the recipient also happened to live inside a bar.

As I made my way inside I was checked by four ponies decked out in steel power armor who stood in my way.

“Hey! Watch where you’re standing. I’m trying to get inside.” I snapped.

“Why don’t you watch it, New Canterlot?” came a mare’s bark out of the leader’s helmet. Her voice was especially venom-filled as she addressed me as ‘New Canterlot’. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face around here. Our local chapter might’ve dissolved, but we’re still Steel Rangers! Show some damn respect, tribal.” I noticed all of them had red x’s painted over their steel ranger insignia’s and shoulder pauldrons. They were all carrying their massive guns that looked like small twenty millimeter autocannons on their backs, off of their battle saddles. Armed to the teeth, but technically compliant with the local law.

“Rangers? You look like loser renegades to me.” I replied. “Now you're just a bunch of high-tech mercs with an attitude problem.”

The lead mare almost lost her temper, “What’d you say, bitc-?!”

“Easy, Bombshell. She ain’t worth it.” Came a cautious stallion’s voice from behind her, urging discretion. Probably more from the Dodge City Gang than from me.

Ponies here were supposedly armed to the teeth from the weapons factory, like steel rangers, but without the power armor. Plenty enough to keep most lowlifes in check. Or maybe it was more due to the barely-contained powder keg of conflicting gangs and mercenaries congregating within the city that dissuaded them?

“Damn this place. Every one of these lowlifes is trotting around with high-end weapons. Disgusting. If we still had the rest of our chapter backing us, this place’d be entirely under our-” She brushed his hoof off and scoffed. “Y’know what? Screw it. No point in getting worked up. Watch yourself around here, New Canterlot. If we catch you outside Dodge City, Gawd won’t be able to find enough pieces of you to I.D. what’s left of your smouldering corpse...” she threatened, before briefly addressing her squadmates. “Brunswick. Salvo. Frag. Let’s go find work someplace else.”

Back in the wasteland, my comments had a tendency to start fights more often. I thought to myself if maybe that was a sign of the times as I watched them trot off, before stepping through the double doors of the saloon.

The Dodge City Wrangler Saloon was a two story establishment, a bit more rundown than the Turnpike Tavern, but attempted to dress itself up in more of a country flair. It was populated by mercenaries and scumbags of all sorts, who all stopped briefly to stare at the New Canterlot mare before continuing on with what they were doing. From ex-raiders, thieves and bounty hunters to mercenaries. You know. The usual sorts of ponies you’d find in Dodge City.

It had stairs leading up to several closed wooden doors, under which guns-for-hire drank alcohol, while smoking and playing cards next to an old working jukebox and antique piano. Among them were a unicorn gunslinger in a serape with revolvers strapped to his chest, a minotaur dressed in a fancy black gambler’s suit, a raider stallion in waster gear, and an oversized radgoat sitting at a single table.

The minotaur stood grumbled to himself watching his bad hand and glancing up frequently at each of the other players. The gunslinger puffed his cigar smugly. Meanwhile the radgoat carried a stone poker face so good that it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Or if he was thinking anything at all...

Taking steps on the wooden flooring and edging my way around other ponies, I made my way to the bar where the owner of the establishment was standing, a tired middle-aged poppy colored mare with a red bandana tied over her wavy brown mane with a black server’s apron that read “kiss my grits”.

I walked up to her and she raised an expectant eyebrow, inhaling her cigarette and blowing the smoke out her nose. “Yeah?”

“Are you an ‘Appleshot Brandy’?” I questioned.

“Who wants to know...?” she squinted at me with a slight hint of suspicion.

I reached into my saddlebag and leaned over to give her the envelope. “I’ve got this message to deliver.” I mouthed through my teeth.

“Oh. Thanks...” she mumbled, lowering her guard and looking down after opening the letter. A scowl contorted her face as she read, growing more irritated with each word.

I held out my hoof and smiled weakly. “Uh, delivery tax?.... hehe”

The mare snorted and stuck a sealed bottle in front of me. “Here, have a Sunrise Sarsaparilla, kid. It’s on the house.” Brandy walked to the other side of the bar and began to read the message to herself.

I popped the Sunrise open and checked the underside of the bottlecap. Miraculously, there was a blue star under it, so I stuck it in my pocket to save for later. Spare wishes were difficult to come by these days. As I sipped on it, even in the seedy atmosphere all the bitter memories of my favorite drink couldn’t help but bubble up towards the surface and make me feel slightly miserable.

“Haven’t seen eyes bluer than that since my ex-girlfriend’s coat. What’s eating you?” I heard a male voice from beside me, and turned my head to the right. It belonged to a yellow unicorn stallion with a purple mane sat down next to me. He was wearing what could easily be mistaken for raider-esque gear with a tall gangly physique, but nopony was really paying him any mind.

My eyes flicked down at the spear cutie mark on his flank, then came back up glaring.

He put his up hooves and leaned back on his barstool as though he were being accused. “Woah, easy there New Canterlot! What’s with the hostility? I can tell by that look, you got it all wrong!” I watched as he put both his forelegs back on the counter. “I’m no raider. I’m an ex-raider. Big difference!”

“Whatever…” I took another drink of the Sunrise.

“Jeez, haven’t you heard that you shouldn’t go around judging a pony by their cutie mark? It’s rude I tell ya what!” Changing his tone on a dime, he leaned close and stuck out his hoof as if to shake mine and introduce himself. “Anyways, pleased to meetcha. Name’s Pike, bit of a drifter you might say. What brings you out Dodge City way?” he asked.

”Unfinished business.” I replied.

“Hmmm… Reminds me of this one time me and a couple of compadres of mine were being chased by this mean pair of ghouls. Couple of bounty hunter gals. Pretty scary. I think one of my buddies got captured by em or something cus he had a bounty of his head. Yeah, that’s right. Don’t remember the reason why, or what happened to them after that either. Memory’s a bit fuzzy. I blame it on the chems.”

I scowled. “Is it normal for ponies to give out their life story without asking?”

“Just making friendly conversation...” he replied innocently. “What’s eatin’ ya, New Canterlot?”

“Tch.” I rolled my eyes. Why was it that I kept meeting so many strange characters today? “I’ve said it before, I’m not with New Canterlot…” I sighed, taking another sip of my sunrise and tilted my head back with a huff to look up at the ceiling. “Any idea why raiders would bury a bunch of New Canterlot armor pieces in a random ditch somewhere?” I asked, thinking aloud.

“Couldn’t tell ya,” he shrugged, “but in my experience ponies bury all kinds of dumb shit in random places.”

“Yeah, me neither.” I said to him half-heartedly looking away. “Thanks anyways...”

“You low-down rotten cheater!” I heard the minotaur mooing from across the room. “There’s only three aces in a deck! Not five! I counted!”

“There are four suits in a deck muscle-for-brains. You lost. Now pay up.” said the unicorn in the serape.

He snorted and stood up, scraping the ground with one hoof. “You calling me stupid Lone Hoof?! I oughta knock you into next week!”

The oversized goat snorted, saying nothing as he continued to sit at the table.

As the card players were looking like they were about to get into a fight my eyes wandered back over to the older mare running the bar, who suddenly got fed up and shut off the jukebox. Shouting over everyone, she barked, “Alright, everyone get the hell out! We’re closed for the afternoon!” Making her point extra clear by resting her shotgun on the counter. There were lots of complaints as the patrons shuffled out of the bar, but I stayed in my seat, going either being ignored or unnoticed. The establishment quickly emptied, draining most of the seedy atmosphere along with it.

“Come back ‘round sundown. We’ll have drinks.” she promised.

After they had all left, I watched as an older pale grey unicorn poke his head out of one of the rooms upstairs to see what all the commotion was about, his flank bearing a green bottle with an apple on it and an old-fashioned revolver. “Hey, Brandy? Whatchya got there?” he asked, peering over the wooden banister.

Brandy scowled, “Go back to your holotapes, Dad!”

Her father frowned, looking down at her scoldingly. “Is that any way to talk to your own flesh and blood? I’d recognize that look from my own daughter any day of the week!” The aged pony slowly made his way down the stairs, creaking with each and every step.

The mare groaned loudly. “It’s Apple Whiskey. He sent another offer to hire us to work at the Turnpike Tavern in New Appleloosa. Since we’re family, he feels ‘obligated’ to offer us a way out our ‘situation’.” she stated sarcastically.

Asking with a hint of sincerity in his voice, he leaned in close and put a hoof on her shoulder. “So whatchya thinkin’ honey…? I know there’s our family pride to think about, but maybe we should think about his offer.”

“There ain’t no, ‘situation’!” The mare insisted, turning away from him and crumpled up the letter. “I ain’t sellin’ dad! I already said I ain’t sellin’ and that’s final! Things ain’t got bad enough that I’m willing to abandon the other townsfolk in their time of need. It ain’t right!”

“Settlements come and go in the wasteland.”

“Things have been rough sometimes, sure, but Dodge City has always stuck around. We look after our own. That’s what matters most.”

“Dodge City ain’t getting any better, sweetheart. The mayor and her Dodge City Gang have seen to that. Sometimes things change. In my experience it's best not to get too tied down to the past...”

She gasped, holding a hoof to her breast. “I can’t believe my ears right now! We built this place up with our own blood and sweat! It’s been in our family for generations!”

“Trust me, it ain’t easy for me, but what’s important is that we’re alive. Folks say that a good run is better than a bad stand. Wood and Scrap buildings don’t matter worth a damn if you’re dead.”

The mare didn’t reply, instead displaying signs of internal conflict.

“Sweetie, I just want you to be happy…” he consoled her.

She put a hoof on her breast and proclaimed, “I’m plenty happy! Can’t you tell? Business is booming,” she added, gesturing to me. “You just can’t get rid of some of these lowlifes!” I whistled, trying to look inconspicuous.

“Y’know, sometimes I just wish there were no more guns in Dodge City. In the whole wasteland.”

“That might be dreaming too big. Guns are tools, Brandy. No better or worse than the pony using em.”

She sneered and shot her eyes off to the side, caressing her shoulders. “Yeah, don’t you think I don’t know that? You’ve taught me that plenty before. But we weren’t killing each other like we are now. Like before those weapons… The stories that ma told me from before the war, made it sound like paradise.”

“I wish I had all the answers darling…”

She frowned, finally addressing me directly. “You got somewhere to be, New Canterlot? Didn’t your mama ever teach you it’s impolite to eavesdrop on family affairs?”

“Not really.” I answered forthcomingly. “I’m also not with New Canterlot, it’s just the armor. I’m stuck in Dodge until I can find out how to get an audience with the mayor.”

“Well ain’t that just peachy?” she snorted.

I finished my bottle of Sunrise Sarsaparilla and set it down on the counter before standing up and leaning against the bar like in an old cowpony holovid. “Nope, on account of I never knew my mama, but to me it sounds like you fine folks are having some trouble. Ya got any work for me?”

“Heh, I admire your gumption kid, but we ain’t hiring at the moment. You’d be better off talking to the Merc’s Union or getting hired on the rail line. You’re the one who delivered me that letter. Thanks for that... Ya got a name?”

“It’s Roulette.”

The older grey unicorn smiled and shook my hoof before pulling up a barstool. “Howdy lil miss. I’m Appleshot Gin, and the prickly little owner of this establishment is my daughter. She’s as pretty as a flower but about as friendly as an exploding cactus.”

He looked down at my holstered pistol. “I see you got a ten mil. You a gunslinger? Don’t see many earth ponies who prefer pistols these days. You should lower that holster though so you don’t have to bend as much.”

“Thanks,” I chuckled. “It actually belonged to my brother.”

There was a sparkle in his eye like he was being brought back to his youth as we spoke. “What brings ya out Dodge City way then, stranger?”

“One of my friends was kidnapped and taken here. After I save her, I have some business with the Dodge City Gang. One pony in particular. Jagged Knife.”

His eyes widened at hearing those words. Then in a hushed voice, he warned. “You should be careful about uttering that name around here... If you go speaking it around town, he’ll hear you’re looking for him and you’ll wind up dead on Boot Hill.”

“That’s fine.” I said. “I want him to know that I’m coming for him.”

He laughed weakly, “Well you’re a brash one, I’ll give you that. …You have my condolences about your friend, even if it don’t mean much. But word of advice? Unless you’re a walking one-mare-army, trying to take down the entire Dodge City Gang on your own is downright foolhardy.”

“I’m kinda low on options.” I admitted. “What can you tell me?”

“Well, that’s a long story… ”

“I don’t have anywhere to be.”

Brandy corrected pointing to the double door exit, “Yeah ya do. Somewhere not in here!”

“C’mon sweetie, when’s the last time we had real company? Not all New Canterlot ponies are bad!” Gin chided. Pointing out the window at the lush greenery on the hill, he said, “Ya see that? I’m sure you saw Cherry Hill Ranch when you came into town?” He grinned, looking up at it with wide eyes. “A real sight for sore eyes in this desert, no doubt.”

I nodded silently as he watched longingly out the window.

“We used the tech from an old Stable to restore the green and that’s how we settled all the way out here. Have a water talisman hooked up to make the town sustainable and everything! But now the Dodge City Gang controls all of it, and just about everything else in this town. They control who comes and goes in the city, who can carry guns, who gets provisions from Cherry Hill Ranch. Practically everyone owes them some sort of debt. It's a town whose law is lawlessness, and the Mayor is the one in charge of it all. Jagged is just one pony among many, but as far as my memory goes, he definitely left the biggest impression...”

The barmare showed slight annoyance at his mention of it. “Dad, you don’t need to tell her that story. She ain’t a local, so don’t go bringing outsiders like her into our business, especially not New Canterlot.”

“Well, somepony might as well hear it!” he countered. “Besides, she seems like a nice kid.”

The barmare put up her hooves in annoyance and walked away from us. “Fine, just make yourself right at home then, why doncha?”

“What’s so special about this ‘Mayor’ lady?” I asked. “From everything I’ve heard about her, she sounds all hoity and self-important. It’s also freaking impossible to get an audience with her.”

Gin mostly agreed with that sentiment, responding in slight humor, “Yeah, pretty much…” Soon I noticed that Brandy had returned, standing next to us as she polished another glass to a shine. “Rubi Royalle, used to be a Dodge City prostitute. She was popular, but not too well liked either, if ya know what I mean…” he chuckled to himself. “She must’ve tried sleeping with every strong, virile stallion that came to town. Back in the day, I might’ve once or twice-”

Brandy cut him off harshly, “Dad!”

Waving his hooves to calm her down, he apologized repeatedly. “Sorry! Sorry! I’m just telling it like it is! Alright, I’ll give her the short version then...” I stifled myself, trying not to laugh. He coughed. “Anyways, Rubi always had more ambition than she knew what to do with. Lying, cheating, turning the townsfolk against one another. She clawed her way up to ownership, but one day after dealing under the table one too many times a lot of townsfolk got fed up with her shenanigans and ran her out of town.”

“She sounds like a real bitch.” I said flatly.

“Hehe, yup that’s just about the size of it.” he agreed, managing a weak laugh.

“So what happened?”

“She came back. Took over everything, and started the Dodge City Gang. Began inviting in lowlifes to invest in the town. ‘Infest’ is more like it though. You’re probably too young to remember what Dodge was like before they came along. I mean, it was always shit. There were still raiders and the like, but at least they were upfront about wanting to kill you. There was a sense of community.”

“Yeah, I stopped by here once when I was younger. I don’t remember all the industry from last time.” I admitted. “Or quite so much ‘wasteland refuse’...”

“Originally she was dealing with Red Eye and his slavers back in Fillydelphia before his whole empire up and collapsed. A bit of his influence must’ve stuck... but after Sunshine and Rainbows, she took to dealing with Gawd instead. Since their relationship was mutually beneficial for both parties, things didn’t get much better for us. Also a lot of the trash that gets driven out of Gawd’s territory ends up here.”

So that was the reason why Gawd’s territory seemed so clean compared to everywhere else. By all accounts, they had to end up somewhere.

“She’s trying to make Dodge into the next Fillydelphia. Like what another certain somepony was trying to do back during the war. She’ll probably succeed too, knowing her.”

The poppy barmare sighed to herself, desperately trying to distract herself by cleaning dirty glasses, albeit unsuccessfully. “I’m getting awful tired of hearing this story…”

“Rubi doesn’t care much about us locals nowadays. Probably because she’s making hoof over bottlecaps. Can't count on New Canterlot much neither. They’ve got too much riding on what she’s created here. I’m sure you probably know all about that though...” he said, hoof-waving the notion away. I didn’t.

“So why didn’t you fight back?” I asked, sounding obvious.

Gin sighed loudly. “We were all tired of fighting in the wasteland. She made us an offer, by saying she had our best interests at heart. We were just dumb enough to take her at her word. Then we let her stroll in and take what she wanted, and didn’t fight back until it was too late. That’s the only reason we’re stuck in this mess.”

“Sounds rough.” I admitted.

Brandy scoffed. “Quit your simpering! We didn’t ask for your sympathy.”

"At least we locals get less heat from the Dodge City Gang.” Gin shrugged, still somehow managing to find humor in the situation. He smiled jokingly, “Heh, maybe if we get lucky, some do-gooder ponies will come along and miraculously solve all our problems for us like in the wasteland days?”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, dad. Don’t go pretending to get your hopes up on my account. That only happened once, and we both know how that turned out. Anypony who tries to play the hero around here ends up dead on Boot Hill. It’s neither here nor there at this point… That dream died with Gladhoof.”

Sighing wistfully, the old stallion leaned back in his seat to stare upwards. “You’re right... No use getting hung up on what was. Times change after all.”

“Mostly I don’t want you giving this mare any ideas.” She added, with barely a hint of sarcasm. “For some reason, I’m getting the impression she’d be dumb enough to actually try it…”

I wished that I knew how to help them, but I didn’t have all the answers either. “What about Jagged Knife though?” I asked.

Neither of them spoke briefly, leaving an atmosphere so thick you could cut it with a ripper. “That’s, uh...” he began. Brandy’s eyes fell upon the ground as if I was bringing up painful memories, meanwhile Gin struggled to answer.

“I heard he hit some small settlement in the wasteland, and crossed paths with the Lightbringer.” I mentioned.

“Heard about that, yeah… dunno how a pony manages to survive an encounter like that, but just goes to show you. He’s the right hoof of the Dodge City Gang now. If you’re looking for him, first thing you should know is what you’re up against. He was a real bastard back in the day. Although I admit he seems to have calmed down in recent months. Jagged mostly acts as the mayor’s lapdog now, always coming and going. Dunno what’s gotten into him lately. Don’t underestimate him, though. The mark he left on this town is still here. Last time somepony tried to oppose him, he made an example of them… but that ain’t worth discussing.”

From the way both he and Brandy’s faces sunk mentioning that pony, I felt it was best not to press it further. Thinking to myself, I had a few theories formulating in my head on what I was going to do moving forward.

“Dodge just ain’t been the same since Sunshine and Rainbows. Most of the locals have already up and left. Those that stayed we don’t see around much anymore.”

‘Thanks for the story.” I said, unsure anything I could say right now would be sufficient to ease their woes.

Brandy leaned against the counter, wearing a fake grin. “Any plans then, now that you’re in Dodge City?” the barmare asked sarcastically.

“Yeah, I still plan on kicking his ass.” I said, and she responded with a snort. “I guess I’ve just got to rethink my approach now. Might have to find some work in the meantime. I’ll think of something.”

Gin laughed to himself. “Brash don’t even begin to cover it with you. I gotta say, even if ya end up dead in a few days, that attitude of yours is downright refreshing around here.”

Brandy jabbed at my armor with her hoof, “What’s the matter Gawd ain’t payin’ you enough?”

“I’m not New Canterlot though, for the record.” I corrected.

“Between you and me then, you should ditch that armor around here,” the mare replied. “It’ll be easier for you to make friends if they don’t think you’re working for Gawd. New Canterlot ain’t too well liked around here.”

Snarkily, I replied, “Yeah, I was beginning to pick up on that…”

She looked me over and asked. “You got a place to stay, Miss?”

I shook my head.

“Well, if you can’t stay in the barracks, you’re welcome to stay in the second guest room upstairs. I’d feel bad about making a pretty young thing like yourself stay in the flophouse with a bunch of horny grown stallions. Make yourself at home up there. I’ll open up a tab for you, first night’s free.”

“T-Thanks…” I said, taken aback by her kindness. I didn’t think I’d find another friendly face in Dodge, let alone two, but I was happy to be proven wrong.

Leaning her weight against the counter she grinned. “Just because hospitality isn’t so fashionable nowadays, doesn’t mean we don’t make the effort.” Then she sneered jokingly. “Don’t get used to it though. Second night, you’re paying double.”

As I paced around Dodge in the late afternoon, I was unsure exactly what I was going to do while I was here as I paced down mainstreet. I left my armor and rifle up in my room at Brandy’s saloon, but kept my brother’s pistol holstered on my foreleg.

“Two weeks, huh?” I thought to myself. I had to find a way to see the mayor before then.

It looked like I’d have to find work while I was here, either with the Merc’s Union or New Canterlot. I still had no leads on how I was supposed to get an audience with the mayor, so I made the decision that I should probably lay low so ponies like Sting and Angel Eyes didn’t get the drop on me. I had a gut feeling that nopony knew I was here yet.

“I should also probably see about getting some better weapons while I was here too.” I thought, getting an idea. “Hey, I think I heard somewhere that gunrunning is supposed to be pretty lucrative. I could always give that a shot, and see where it lands me?”

Then I stopped and stood still. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a familiar face lying drunk on his ass. Turning my head enough so that i could see his charcoal grey coat, blue flight jacket, and his red-orange mohawk inch deep in a puddle of alcohol, where he was drunkenly sputtering incoherent nonsense.

I glared and began to walk towards him. He barely even noticed me as I approached and then silently stood over him, waiting.

“Ahem” I cleared my throat.

A stupid drunken grin stretched over his face. “Hey, sweet-cheeks, back for more-...?” When he turned his head and looked up at me, it took him a second or two blinking before he finally realized who I was. I didn’t say anything, as his intoxicated mind finally caught up with reality and his expression of joy slowly melted away. Suddenly, he snapped awake and jumped into the air. With a swift flap of his wings he took off into the sky with a streaking contrail behind him! I followed him with my eyes as he veered off and then hit the side of a nearby building. He slid down the side of the structure, and fell flat in the dirt unconscious, watching stars circle over his head. I winced. That looked painful.

The afternoon sun dyed the desert town in an orange hue, likely about an hour or two away from dusk. After having dragged him somewhere private where we could speak, he was still unconscious. Even after slapping his face around a few times with my hoof, I had to go find a bucket of water to splash his face with it, before the charcoal-grey pegasus with the red-orange mohawk finally opened his eyes.

“Sobered up?” I snarled.

“H-hey, what gives?!” he asked, struggling to try and free himself from his restraints. “I’m stuck!”

“Don’t bother, I tied you up nice and tight,” I said. “You won’t be getting away from me this time.” I figured the first thing he’d try to do was fly off again, so I made sure to hogtie his wings and hooves together while he was asleep.

“Shit, you’re that crazy mare from the caravan! C’mon, you followed me all the way to Dodge City?! Gimme a break!”

“Are you going to answer my questions this time, or not?” I squinted.

“You don’t ever make it easy, lady!”

‘Fair point.” I relented, grabbing him by the tail as I continued to drag him back towards the train station.

“H-Hey! Where the hell are you taking me?!”

“I’m gonna turn you in.” I grunted, speaking through a mouthful of rope. “Maybe if you won’t sing for me, you’ll change your tune once I take you into New Canterlot and they leave you to rot in a jail cell. I’m sure Colonel Peregrine will be willing to accomodate”

“W-wait! New Canterlot won’t believe my story! Especially if they’re as nice, reasonable and understanding as you are!”

“Oh, haha...” I deadpanned.

He squirmed around as I dragged him through the dirt with little concern for his well being. “Ow! Watch the threads, will you? Listen to me, it was all a simple misunderstanding. That’s it!”

I rolled my eyes and spat his tail out and glared at him, face-to-face. “Well that “simple misunderstanding” of yours got a lot of ponies killed.”

“Let me explain will you? For Celestia’s sake, I’m not with the raiders or the Enclave. I didn’t even want to work that job! I was blackmailed into it! Jagged said there was supposed to be a courier carrying an important package and all I had to do was single them out and he’d do the rest. It was no hard feelings, I’m just trying to pay off my debt to the Dodge City gang! I didn’t know he was going to hit an entire caravan! But because of that screw-up, he probably wants me dead. ”

My tone voiced mock-sadness, unmoved by his sob-story. “My heart weeps for you, really. Any idea what they were expecting? I peeked inside and all I was carrying was some sappy letter.”

“Yeah, I realized you were the wrong pony too late. I have no idea what he was looking for. Jagged didn’t give us any of the details… Not even his own guys knew.” That made some sense, considering I was able to pull a switcheroo on Angel Eyes with that random memory orb. Hotshot kept trying to plead with me. “Now they all think I screwed up and want me dead! So if you agree to let me go, I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.” he begged.

“Answer me this: Did you or didn’t you didn’t you kill wasteland ponies for the Enclave?”

“...I did,” he confessed warily, “but-”

I pressed my hoof to his lips mid-sentence, then proceeded to drag him again.

He shouted to get attention again, alleging, “I have the memory, I just don’t remember any of it! I just woke up and there were bodies. Yeah, I know you’re not gonna believe it. But that’s the truth!”

I groaned and spit the stallion’s tail out of my mouth, and turned around so I was staring him straight in the face. Raising an eyebrow, I asked, “So lemme get this straight? You killed ponies, and you ‘remember’ killing ponies? But you have no real memory of it...?”

He was clearly already aware of how ridiculous it sounded, making it slightly more believable. “More like they’re not ‘my’ memories. They were just dead. It sounds crazy, I know.” he assured.

“You’re an Enclaver though. How am I supposed to know you’re not just lying to my face?” I squinted.

“Frankly sister, even I don’t believe me...”

I stopped dragging and loosened my grip. To be honest, I’ve heard crazier stories. “My name is Roulette.” I corrected, “And fine, let’s assume you’re telling the truth. How does that make it any better?”

“Why do you care so much that you’re willing to track me halfway across the stars-damned wasteland? This is the wasteland. Lots of ponies die.” he protested, feeling that he was being singled out.

I scoffed. “Don’t think so high and mighty of yourself, featherhead. I’m not here for you. I came for Jagged Knife”

Suddenly, his face went pale. “Wait Jagged’s back in Dodge?! You gotta take me some place hidden! He can’t know I’m here!”

Shrugging my shoulders, I felt little sympathy for the pegasus. “Sucks to be you, I guess? I’ve got unfinished business with him,” I told him. “Just as soon as I manage to get a meeting with the mayor.”

Hotshot raised a sarcastic eyebrow, “Oh really?” he heckled. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

Uneasily, I admitted, “I don’t really know yet… I was thinking of maybe trying to fight in the gauntlet. If you got any other options better than a full frontal assault, then I’m all ears.”

The pegasus shot me a funny look, unsure how to communicate just how completely stupid that plan sounded to him. “What? And assault Cherry Hill Ranch on your own? Storm into the mayor’s office, guns blazing? Better rule out fighting in the Gauntlet too, because Sting and Three-Card already know who you are. Even if you were strong enough to actually pull it off, if either of them catch wind of it and get to Jagged first, then there goes your element of surprise.”

“That’s fine. I don’t care if they know.” I answered. He didn’t mention Angel Eyes though, so I wasn’t sure if he was aware of him or not.

He laughed, not sure whether to be embarrassed for himself or for me. “Are you the same mare that tracked me across the wasteland? Because I’m starting to think that was all dumb luck back in Sunvale.”

I got a little red from irritation, and grabbed him by his scruff of his neck. Then I pulled him close so we were both looking face to face. “Alright, funny guy. You’ve got nowhere to go, right? So how about this: You can either tell me everything you know about him, or I leave you to rot in jail. What’ll it be?”

“You truly are lost without me, aren’t you?” he taunted, wearing an annoying smirk that I wanted to punch. Hotshot stared down beside himself at the dirt, then looked back up at me and spat, “Take me to jail then! At least I won’t be dead.”

“Fine.” I replied calmly and began to fulfil his request. He looked almost surprised that I’d react that way probably fully expecting me to blow my head off. I wouldn’t blame him for thinking that, but I was done trying to reason with him.

As I dragged the hogtied pegasus along towards his final destination, I could see a light on in Colonel Peregrine’s office with the old griffon sitting inside the station building. Hotshot growled as I dragged him over rocks, making little effort to avoid them. “What the hell did I ever do to you?! Why do you hate the Enclave so damn much?” He demanded. Was he trying to cause a scene?

I stopped and spit out the rope. I spun back around glaring at him which caught him slightly off guard. “Aside from singling out the caravan I was travelling with, you mean? Enclavers took my family. We weren’t threatening anyone, just trying to live out our lives peacefully and they gunned them down right in front of me. Without any mercy. And they were the only thing that ever meant anything in the world to me. There was an officer there. I don’t know what they wanted, or what they were doing there... But they took everything from me. So if you want to know ‘what the Enclave did to me’, there ya go.” I finished.

The pegasus looked at a loss for words at first, as everything sunk in. “This officer. Could you tell me what he was wearing?” he asked, although it seemed like a completely arbitrary detail.

“I dunno… Uh, his uniform was slightly different than some of the other Enclave officers I’ve seen. But what’s that got to do with anything?” I was having a hard time remembering the exact details. “Do you know something?” I asked with raised suspicion.

He sat there staring off into space, trying to think to himself before mumbling “No...it’s nothing.”

I pointed up at Cherry Hill Ranch and leaned in close, so that our faces were almost touching. “Well, now the raiders you were helping took my friend, and I intend to save her. I’ll bring down the entire Dodge City Gang if I have to. Just as soon as I figure out how to see the mayor... So do you want to help, or not?”

The mohawked pegasus stayed silent. Was that guilt in his eyes or was it just my imagination? It was beginning to look more like he’d rather sit in jail than give me anything else. So I huffed, getting impatient, and went to drag him again but he stopped me short.

“A-Alright, wait!” he stammered, and I halted. He hung his head somberly. “I can help you…”

I looked down at the pegasus stallion laying in the dirt, and was left trying to calculate his motives with glaring suspicion. “Oh, really?” I asked, and the pegasus nodded in response. “And you’re not going to bolt again if I let you up?” He shook his head assuredly.

Confused onlookers were beginning to notice us and began watch curiously. One or two passersby seeing a mare standing over a tied-up stallion and likely getting the wrong idea and some were beginning to give us strange looks. I ignored them.

“How do I know I can trust you to stick by me when the chips are down?”

“You shouldn’t.” he replied. “That’s not the way Dodge City works. Ponies here only look out for themselves. There’s always an angle. But you can trust at least that I’m not exactly on good terms with them either. So if you’re out to take on the Dodge City Gang, you won’t hear any qualms from me. That said, you’re not going to have to worry about me running away from you again. We both have a common interest, and they wouldn’t expect us to be working together. I could help you. ”

“I know how the wasteland works, you don’t have to remind me.” I scoffed. Admittedly, kind of a weird roundabout way of saying that he wouldn’t betray me.

“You don’t have to like me for doing what I did, but I did have my reasons… At least I think I did.”

That was good enough for me. I released my hoof, then undid his bindings and let him up. He brought himself to his hooves dusting himself off, and I was thankful when he didn’t make the effort to bolt this time. I spat in my hoof and extended it outwards to him and he shook it. “For the record, you’re not off the hook yet.” I threatened.

He rolled his eyes and groaned. “I’m sure.”

As I looked around we were starting to draw a small crowd. A lot of glares and unwelcoming eyes were on the two of us, but mostly on Hotshot. Recognizing that look from when I came into town, it seemed that even amongst thieves, ponies were still hateful of the Enclave. I made a mental note to myself that we should probably get out of here before any members of the Dodge City Gang showed up, or other ponies decided to try anything.

“What’d you have in mind then, ‘partner’?” I asked, still somewhat doubtful of his intentions.

His face winged, with unease present in his voice as he mentioned, “I might know a guy…”

The Lucky Sevens club was not a place you wanted to end up. Not as a filly or as a full grown mare. I don’t know when it was set up or how long it’s been around, but it’s always seemed like this place has been around cheating ponies out of their hard earned bottlecaps since the beginning of time in the wasteland.

I sniffed the air, which was thick with smoke and the smell of alcohol and ash trays. Turning a glance at the band playing on a lit stage, strumming slow heavy jazz music, I followed Hotshot closely as we were both escorted to the center of the room by members of the Dodge City gang.

From the looks of things, it appeared as though it’d come under new management recently. All renovations were new, from the fresh wood floor and the walls plastered with red wallpaper and gambling suits, to the flashing magic neon sign outside. Pictures of ponies from the war that I couldn’t recognize were hung up around us, all of them long dead, but a certain red maned belle kept coming up. Meanwhile, other patrons sat at various tables around the floor, throwing away their hard earned bottlecaps on a single night of cheap wine, attractive mares, and games of chance. Mares wearing casino bunny outfits and explosive collars around their necks were working the floor serving drinks. All the male employees on the other hoof wore pinstriped dress shirts with bow ties.

The hired muscle recognized Hotshot almost immediately and led us to the gambling table at the center of the floor sat solitary, sectioned off from all the others. It was currently being occupied by a white unicorn in a cheap suit jacket, pink button-up shirt and loose black tie sat with his hooves up on the table.

“Just play it cool…” Hotshot muttered under his breath.

I whispered back somewhat miffed, “Don’t worry about me...”

“And do me a favor?” the pegasus exhaled, and I cocked an eyebrow. “Just shut up and let me talk for once.”

I shot the pegasus back a dirty look, scrunching my face.

“The boss will be with you shortly.” Said one of the hired goons.

Hotshot whispered into my ear as we were invited to wait to the side. "Gamble handles most finances on behalf of the Dodge City Gang. He’s also a con-artist who fancies himself a gambler. If anyone can get you to see the mayor, it’s him.”

I still had no idea how the pegasus knew this guy or how he was going to help me see the Mayor, but I played along and waited, tapping my hoof on the floor impatiently to keep from going stir-crazy.

Their so-called boss’ cutie mark was a pair of dice. A six and and a one, to be precise. Some outlaw raider-looking pony sat across from him, glaring at his cards and sweating. A black scorpion cutie mark on his flank.

Confidently, the white unicorn blew on his wavy dark mane to prevent a lock of hair from drooping in front of his smug poker face. There was a huge stack of poker chips in front of him.

The second pony managed to grin steadily as he looked over his cards, slowly gaining confidence. From where I was standing, his cards looked pretty good. I’d be jealous of a hand like that. He lowered his hand just enough to look back at the smug unicorn, before revealing his hand on the table. “Full house!” He shouted twitching slightly. He looked up, waiting on his opponent.

The smug unicorn flipped over his cards over with his magic and smirked back at him. “Straight flush. Better luck next time.”

Across from him, the other pony’s jaw hit the floor, and a bead of sweat dripped from his neck. “No… that’s impossible!” He began grinding his teeth as a few ponies from the Dodge City gang approached him from behind. “You cheated, you sonofabitch!” Out from under his armor he whipped out his holdout plasma gun, but before he was barely even able to draw it, he had nearly every gun in the establishment already pointed at him. Meanwhile, the smug unicorn barely looked fazed at all.

My eyes widened upon seeing the weapon. It looked modified, similar to Sting’s in design. “Am I in the right place then?” I thought to myself. I tried to stay calm and play it cool as the raider pony eyed downward at the other pony levitating his gun from his grip.

“Threatening me in my own casino? Tsk, tsk. Didn’t you hear? Guns are only allowed by members of the Dodge City Gang. There’s a big sign right when you come into town.” Motioning to his fancily dressed bouncers they grabbed him and began dragging him out of the establishment. As the hired muscle pulled him away, I saw him silently hide the weapon inside his coat.

The unfortunate loser shouted, cursing obscenities as he was dragged out of the establishment past the two of us. “I swear you cheated! I’ll kill you, you bastard!” he growled, making threats before being taken somewhere where he could no longer be heard by either of us. “Mark my words, dammit!” came a muffled cry. Hotshot and I exchanged quick glances before looking back to the pony sitting at the table.

“You’ve got two weeks to pay off that debt.” The white pony muttered, flipping open a lighter and taking a quick smoke of a cigarette. He flipped a lock of his greasy black mane with a hoof.

After that outburst, some of the other patrons were asked to leave, and they shut the doors behind them. The band stopped playing as well and exited the building so that we were the only ponies on the floor aside from other employees. Then one of the bouncers turned to us and said, “The manager will see you now...”

“Be careful of this guy,” Hotshot warned. “Let me do the talking...’

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” I fired back in a harsh whisper.

The white stallion in the pink shirt welcomed the pegasus with open hooves, nearly giving him a big hug which wasn’t reciprocated. “Hotshot! Why if it isn’t my best friend in the whole wide wasteland! Welcome back. How’s that debt coming along? Heard that last job didn’t go so well?”

“Gamble, it’s uh… good to see you again. It went so-so” he answered, hiding his own worry. “I’m actually pretty close to paying it off!”

“I know you were working this one privately, but I don’t like to be kept in the dark loverboy. You may not have to answer to the Enclave anymore, but as long as I’ve got your number you answer to me.”

“Right. See, about that…” he laughed lightly trailing off. “That’s why I wanted to speak with the mayor about it. I was hoping you’d be willing to make an arrangement for me and my friend.”

“Jagged’s awfully cross with you…” Gamble pouted his lip, causing the pegasus’ face to contort and make him tug on his collar. “Second chances are rare to come by in this world.” He sighed as his eye flicked over to me, then to my hindquarters, then back to Hotshot. “Is that why you’ve brought this lovely specimen before me? Could it be you’re trying to bribe me to waive your debt with such a sweet offering?”

“Dream on molerat breath.” I snarled.

“Oh, she has fire. That’s a good start…” He turned his head slightly as if to acknowledge my place in the conversation. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. To what do I owe this pleasure then? I assume she’s here to speak on your behalf?”

“I’m going to pay off his debt, I heard you were the one to talk to about working for the Dodge City Gang.” I replied.

Hotshot snapped his neck over to me and hissed through his teeth, “You idiot. You were supposed to let me-!” but he immediately snapped his mouth closed when Gamble gave him a funny look.

I didn’t feel like he was getting anywhere. He glared at me silently with disdain.

Gamble put a hoof to his chin, stroking it. “Color me intrigued, but why pay off his debt of all ponies? He’s a killer. A liar. A murderer. He didn’t show mercy to any of the ponies he killed.” He put particular emphasis on those particular words as he spoke. As much it killed me to be helping an Enclaver, let alone one complicit in the murder of a pony I knew, I had to stay focused. “There ain’t no shortage of worthier charity cases than this lowlife. And worst of all, he skips out on his debts…”

Stopping mid sentence, he sneered. “Got something against Enclavers do ya? You need to work on that poker face missy.” I cursed myself internally. “Tell me the real reason.”

I attempted a quick, but weak defense. “What do you care? Isn’t it your job to hire ponies looking for contracts? I’m just here for a job.” I insisted.

“What I’m really interested in now, is learning how this relationship between you two came to exist.” He looked unconvinced by my fake justification. “If you want me to continue to entertain you, tell me the reason.”

“We met on the road. Now can you get me an audience with the mayor or not?” I asked.

Gamble laughed to himself, putting a hoof over his face. “I can. The real question here is: Why would the mayor want to see you? She’s’ a busy mare, you know?” Further musing to himself as he perpetually shuffled his deck of cards with his horn magic and took a sip of martini, he then turned so he was looking back at us through one eye. “In theory, I could let you join the Dodge City Gang right here, but first I want to know what’s so important that your worth my time. Answer honestly, or we’re done here.”

“Fuck.” I thought to myself. “Could you ask the tall, dark and gruesome twosome to step off first?” I asked, motioning at the two bouncers who were inching a little too close for comfort.

“They’re my employees. Anything you say in present company isn’t going to reach the mayor’s ear. Unless you give me good reason?” Gamble cocked an eyebrow, waiting to judge my response.

My face communicated well enough that I was unconvinced. “Employees?” I raised an eyebrow as well, and my eyes motions to one of the mares wearing slave collars. “What do you call ‘those’ then?”

The edge of his lip curled upward as he answered as one of the girls served him a drink, “Indentured servants. They’re under contract.” They all looked like they didn’t want to be here, forced to wear fake smiles all day and serve patrons against their will.

“Slaves then?” I spat.

He shrugged. “We prefer the term ‘indentured servants’. They agreed to work here under contract until their debt is repaid. They’re ‘employees’. The collars are just insurance. We’re ‘civilized’ now. We don’t need to work ponies to death like in Fillydelphia. It’s simply part of the contract.”

“Like I said, slaves.” I insisted, causing him to drop the grin briefly. “Give it whatever fancy title you want.”

From what little I knew of him already, this guy was a total slimebag, but I still had to be careful around him or I’d just end up making another powerful enemy. He could tell if I was lying simply based off my facial expressions.

Hotshot was quick to interject himself between us, causing Gamble to grant him a presiding gaze. “Look Gamble, she doesn’t really understand how things work here. We met one day on the road and it was love at first sight for her. One thing led to another and then...” He came off more like he was trying to placate him than anything. That was probably how he expected most ponies to behave around him. It was pretty pathetic.

I rolled my eyes, wishing he’d shut up. “So what happened to the previous owner?” I asked, still attempting to get a read on this pony, while trying to figure out what his game was. I was starting to get the picture.

The unicorn stopped shuffling the deck and turned back to look me in the eye, smirking again. “I won this place off him in a card game. You a returning patron? I suppose I should welcome you back to the Lucky Seven’s club in that case.” He shrugged. Then taking on a slightly more demanding tone, “Now tell me the reason.” he pressed, his patience beginning to wear thin on me.

“I have unfinished business with one of her hired guns.” I answered, unsure of how he’d respond.

Noticing Gamble briefly glancing between me and Hotshot, I watched as his brow lit up. I’d clearly caught his interest. He appeared to be busy mulling something over in his head. The silence was killing me though. I wished I had mind reading powers. “Which one if you don’t mind me asking?” he finally asked.

I realized I wasn’t going to get anywhere with this unless I played ball. Not having any other option, I answered, “It starts with a ‘J’”

His ears perked up at that. “Now that’s interesting…” He snickered to himself, leaning forward on the velvet lined table. “Did I say interested? Now I’m fully invested. I have to know, do you got some sort of a beef with him? Did he shoot you in the head and drop you into an early grave? Is this some revenge story, or do you have some other reason?” His eyeball slyly flicked between me and the pegasus. “Now it’s starting to come together a bit… Thing is, I understand why Hotshot might be in on this little plan of yours, but admittedly, I don’t know the first thing about you yet. So where exactly did you two meet and how did this unlikely partnership come to be?”

“Where didn’t we meet?” Hotshot groaned aloud, his voice dripping with overly-dramatic sarcasm. “I just plain can’t get rid of her… she’s obsessed with me!”

I shot him back a dirty glance, then raised an eyebrow at the gambler pony in front of me. “Do you have something against him too?” I asked.

“Heh, a gambler never reveals his cards.” he smirked annoyingly.

“What a load of brahmin shit that is.” I said, calling his bluff. “You and your hired goons have entertained me thusfar. That’s because you’re still deciding if you can use me to your advantage. Right? You’re just looking to move up the food chain. Aren’t you? That’s what it always is. You may be wearing a fancy suit and acting all civilized, but the wasteland is still the same as it ever was! So let’s cut the crap and get down to business.”

I felt Hotshot jab me lightly to try and get me to ease up, but I rightfully ignored the pegasus.

Gamble snickered to himself at first before bursting into full blown laughter, “You got me there.” then turning his gaze over to the ex-Enclave pegasus, who smiled nervously, he asked in raw excitement and intrigue, “Hotshot, where in the wasteland did you find this girl?” Then he looked back at me, where I was sitting impassively and he cracked a slight grin. “Simple. If our end goals are similar, then it makes sense to work together. But first I need to know that I’ll be able to use you. Comprende? A lot of ponies would like to see him dead, and the mayor doesn’t see just ‘anypony’. So what’s so damn special about you?”

I stared him straight in the eye so he could read me as I spoke. “I’m not like those other ponies.” I answered. “Once I decide to do something, I never lose.” He looked at me again, filled to the brim with determination. This time he could really see the spark in my eye and was taken aback by my resolve. He grinned wide with a smile that I didn’t like at all, somehow making him look even more sleazy, like a grinning radroach in a pink shirt and cheap suit.

“Let’s put that theory to the test, shall we?” he proposed. “Any game; your choice. You win, I get you in to see the mayor. You lose, you work for me from now on. So do we have a deal or what?”

Hotshot interrupted in a panic, immediately drawing all eyes on the floor to him. “No wait! That’s how he gets you. Don’t take him lightly!” he warned.

“No hints out of you. I’m dealing with the mare right now.” Gamble glared at him.

“Dammit…” he muttered under his breath, clearly trying to tell me something.

“I know what I’m doing.” I promised. “Deal.” Looking back at him, even though he had a somber beaten expression as if it was already over before it had begun. I scoffed and took a seat at the table, staring ahead at the pony sitting across from me.

Gamble chuckled and motioned to a pony behind us, and one of the bouncers put a hoof on Hotshot and locked an explosive collar around his neck. My eyes widened and shot back at the smug unicorn sitting across from me.

“Hey what’s the idea?!” I asked accusingly. “I said I’d pay off his debt!”

Shuffling his cards in an overly flamboyant way, he answered, “Sit back down. You haven’t yet been given the right to pay off his debt from the Dodge City Gang. This was the debt he earned on his own, and you’ll have a chance to accrue your own soon enough.”

The sound of a pistol cocked behind me and I grit my teeth in anger. Damn him, he was changing the rules on me.

“You cheating bastard…” I growled.

“I’m a pony of my word. You lose, and he’s free to go and his debt will be transferred to you. For now he’s simply collateral, so you don’t run off and leave me with nothing. You don’t mind, do you? Seeing as he already owed us and that as you hate Enclavers, what happens to this lowlife seems like a small pittance.” Addressing me while the pegasus was eyeing both me and his explosive necktie nervously, Hotshot was none too comfortable about his life being held in my hooves for the moment.

“Then if I win, you’ll get me an audience with the mayor, right?” I asked.

He gave a slight nod.

“Fine then,” I agreed. “Get on with it.”

Gamble smiled with mock-congratulations, “Looks like you might get to go free after tonight, Hotshot. Be grateful to this mare, if she can pull it off.” Eyeing me again while shuffling his deck with his magic, he asked me, “So what game is it gonna be? Blackjack? Poker? Roulette?”

I put my hoof over the cards to stop him from shuffling and looked him in the eye, and then with a swipe of my hoof I flung the cards off the table. The white stallion frowned. “Please, I’m not stupid. I saw the con you played when I first walked in here.”

Remaining stunned for a moment, he then picked up the cards with his telekinesis and began reshuffling them again. “A bold accusation, to come into my establishment and accuse me of cheating. If you don’t have proof-”

I cut him off, “You’ve got a magic spell that you use to cheat. When you’re dealing, your horn flashes ever so slightly extra. I’m sure you learned to conceal it behind your normal magic over the years with practice, but you can see it if you pay close attention and ignore the misdirection. That’s how you win.”

“Perceptive little thing…” he muttered, hunching over forward. “Earth pony style then? Don’t bore me to death with the obvious choice and challenge me to a game of roulette… It’s roulette, isn’t it?” He rolled his eyes and shouted. “Bring out the table!”

Hotshot whispered into my ear as a couple of Gamble’s bodyguards lugged a big roulette table towards the center of the room, giving us only a short window to strategize. “Listen to me, I know you don’t trust me, but you have to choose a game that leaves as little to chance as possible. Like caravan or something! Otherwise he’ll win and you’ll never see your friend again.”

Gamble hovered the explosive detonator with his telekinesis, shutting him up for good. “I don’t want you two scheming or giving any hints. This is between me and the lady.”

I cursed internally. I didn’t trust the pegasus at all, but I trusted this smug bastard sitting across from me even less. With my luck, in a game of roulette it’d probably be rigged with magnets underneath the table. I racked my brain trying to think of the right game. If I was letting the pressure get to me I was making an effort not to show it. Then it came to me in a sudden burst of inspiration. “That’s it!” I thought. I had an idea...

“No… I got a game for you.” I declared boldly, pointing at my hindquarters with the red thirty-six roulette marker showing on the side. “Guess my cutiemark!”

He burst out laughing. “Seriously?”

“Yup, I got this sucker on my very first job. So how about we lay a wager on it?”

I could hear Hotshot muttering behind me, “That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever-... You’re gonna blow it you moron!”

Gamble’s lip curled up and I could see a sly glint in his eye. “You truly are something else, ya know that? I knew from the second I saw you, that you were a cut above the rest. I can use a pony like that. Although, I don’t know if you missed it, but I have a gambling cutiemark too.” He gestured to the pair of dice on his own flank. “So I’ll play your little game. If I don’t get it in three chances, you win.” With a slight wave of his hoof, he ordered his thugs to take the table away.

“Fine with me. Guess then.” I demanded, sitting back down.

“I should let you know, just as a word of warning. I never lose though...”

“Me neither...” I replied.

“So we’re going through with this?” Hotshot groaned, prompting a slight jab from one of Gamble’s hired goons. “Fine, I’ll just sit here quietly with this bomb collar strapped to my neck…”

Gamble hunched over in his chair to rest his hoof on the table, musing to himself. “There’s just something about mares with gambling cutiemarks that seems to make them the most stupidly reckless and aggressive things in the wasteland.” he frowned. I didn’t quite appreciate the observation, but he kept talking. “Perhaps it’s because you want to leave your life up to chance or you have some sort of a death wish? It’s a topic that’s always fascinated me. To me, the one and the six-side up on my cutiemark means that I always come out on top, no matter what. You said you’re a mercenary, right? That’s a profession you have to be lucky to survive in. I’m a gambler by trade, so I know a thing or two about being lucky.”

“How are you supposed to get a special talent at being lucky?” I scoffed.

“I didn’t say that was my guess… You always get your mark. Is that the answer?”

“Wrong.” I answered. That was one down. “I do, but that ain’t what my cutie mark means.”

“Fair enough, second guess then.” He kept me waiting with anticipation like he was playing mental games, maybe trying to get me to give away a hint. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “If that mark on your flank meant you were good at roulette, then I bet you would’ve challenged me to it. You don’t seem like the type to back down at something you’re good at. But then again, you know I’ve got the house advantage here.”

I had to stay calm. If I broke my composure, he’d see right through me. We both knew it. My face stayed completely still as he spoke.

“Roulette isn’t a game for simple minded ponies. It’s fast paced and chaotic, where you can lose in an instant. You get in and you get out, because the longer you’re sitting at the table, the closer you are to losing everything. Playing the game stupidly is the opposite of how you make it as a merc in the wasteland, let alone one that survives past being a child and then grows into marehood. You knew the odds when you sat down at my table.”

“Is that your guess then?”

“There’s just one question I have for you first, you don’t have to answer me this time. Do you blame yourself at all for whatever happened between you and Jagged...? Or is it a purely vengeance based relationship?”

My face probably gave it away. Dammit. The smug bastard was playing with me now. I cussed, feeling my inner organs wrenching inside my body. There was a fire in my eye, and all I could think about was wanting to kill the one who caused me so much heartache.

“Wrong.” I repeated again, keeping my expression as reserved as I possibly could. “Ready to give up?” I asked. I wasn’t about to break under pressure.

Gamble looked slightly annoyed, almost breaking behind his smug poker face. Then I saw a spark in his eye and he grinned. “Not yet. I still have one more try.”

“Humor me.” I said, managing to smirk ever-so-slightly. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to play mind games.

“Funny thing a lil’ little birdie told me: there was some big to-do in New Canterlot territory a couple days ago. You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?” he asked. I hadn’t realized the news had already reached here.

“Sorry, I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about.” I lied.

“Interesting… So who ‘are’ you then, exactly?“ he demanded, pointing at me accusingly. “You show up out of nowhere, and act like you’re some sort of newcomer trying to join up with the Dodge City Gang? Don’t make me laugh. I’ve made a living out of reading ponies, and there’s something off about you kid. Something you ain’t saying. All ponies who come to Dodge come here for a reason. But you? This isn’t just some petty revenge scheme, is it? I can tell by that look in your eye. This is something else entirely.”

“Get used to disappointment, cus I’m just your average wasteland mare.” I replied stoically.

Looking me over with an appraising eye, he frowned. “I’ll say you’ve got the attitude down, but you seem to be lacking a bit in the resume department and basic work experience...”

“Well, ‘wasteland experience’ is something I’ve got plenty of. And that’s all I’ve ever needed.”

“Good, that’s the answer I wanted to hear... I’d be surprised if you’ve never killed a pony before in your life, not with that look in your eye. No...” He said, chuckling to himself. “You’ll find things work a bit differently nowadays... Dodge City claims everyone sooner or later. Even the good ones. Everypony comes around to our way of doing things eventually. I just need to know I can use you.”

I scoffed.

“Call it gambler’s intuition, but times are changing in Dodge City. I need to make sure I bet on the right horse. Being a gambler has given me that skill over the years, where I can measure a pony just by looking at them. Whatever motivation might’ve brought you here, I can tell that you’re something else. It’s a longshot, but despite all logic and reason to the contrary, something’s telling me that y