“Come on, you two, revelry; get your flanks in gear!” Crash Dive pounded on the door to the guest room, jolting me out of my sleep. Aw, that was such a nice dream about overstuffed diapers, and balloon ponies, and... what the heck is up with my brain? I flopped over the side of the futon she had provided for me, groaning as I tried to wake myself up. “If you aren’t out here in two minutes I’m gonna give you a taste of my days back in boot camp. Gunny's favorite way of waking stragglers up was chucking a plasma grenade in the barracks!” Well that was certainly enough motivation. I quickly slipped on my coat and hitched up my saddlebags, double checking my umbrella was secure under the strap before throwing myself out the door. Crash Dive was standing on the other side, idly tossing a grenade with a hoof, looking impatient. Holy crap, I didn’t think she was really serious about that!

Night Strike quickly followed, stuffing a few things into her duffle bag as she darted through the door. Crash Dive stowed the grenade in a box on her armor, before turning and making her way towards the door, swinging a fishing pole over her back. “Maple Creek is a little less than half a day’s hike from here, and then we’ll need to head back here before the tide comes in again.” The door to the lighthouse's cabin swung open, the sun not even having risen yet. We began to make our way up the peninsula, the ground still slightly wet from the high tides, the waves down below providing a sort of background noise for the trek inland. As we made our way past the crash of the Valkyrie, the smell of rotting flesh reached my nose, making me gag. Okay, that takes the cake for unpleasant smells you don't want to deal with in the morning...

Crash Dive trotted over to where one of her buried mine spots was, the area around the small crater now dotted with body parts. “Looks like some idiot surface-dweller tried to get a closer look at the wreck,” she said, pushing the meat off of the nearby cliff edge. Ew. “We need to move quickly before somepony with some actual experience gets here.” Night Strike and I nodded as Crash Dive pulled a sensor module and roll of duct tape out of tin boxes on her armor, taping the module around a grenade as a makeshift mine. I checked my Pip-Buck, following the small road inland as it curved through the landscape. Huh, we were a long way from much of note... that somepony must've walked for the better part of a day, too. Oh, I hope we don't run into their relatives...

We were soon trekking through the overgrown hills again, soon finding a cracked stone road and taking it eastwardly. My stomach rumbled as we walked down the road, the sun peeking over the distant mountains and meeting our eyes. “Uh, you didn’t happen to grab a bag of oats or something on the way out, did you?” Crash Dive passed along a rather annoyed glare - a simple 'no' would've sufficed, yikes...

“If you wanted food, you should’ve packed it yourself. You can get something to eat when we get to the town, anyways.” My ears flopped down, stomach letting off another loud grumble, as I regretted not setting an alarm on my Pip-Buck. The road dipped into a small valley, a river flowing alongside it. As we walked beside the rushing water, Night Strike spoke up.

“Hey, so, uh, why is it you said you weren’t coming into town with us, anyways?” The power armored pegasus didn’t answer for a long moment, simply walking forward as we followed along. The old road turned southwards slightly, coming to a small crumbling rock bridge. Oh yeah, I definitely trust my life with that. She headed over the bridge first, as Night Strike and I followed behind. I peered over a hole in the short wall on the side, hopping back as I saw the water flowing underneath - I don’t care how slow it is, I’d sooner be able to fly than swim.

“If you needed a reminder, I'm not exactly a sociable person.” She left it at that, as we finally crossed over the bridge. Neither Strike nor I pressed her to continue; it was rather obvious it would go nowhere and probably end with one of us laying face first in the dirt. It wasn’t much longer until we turned a corner, a small town coming into view, nestled into the valley alongside the flowing river. Huh, kind of looks like one of those old postcards, very scenic. “Alright, you two head on. Get back here by thirteen-hundred or you’re going to be swimming back to the lighthouse, earth pony. I won't wait for you.” She sat down by the banks of the river, hooking a piece of meat to her pole before casting out. “And pray I get something other than salmon here.”

We continued down the road, leaving Crash Dive to her fishing. “So, what exactly’s with her and ‘surface dwellers’?” I asked once we were out of earshot. Strike grimaced a little as we trotted towards the village, a few ponies attempting to tear out a few weeds that were spitting some sort of acid at them near some crops.

“You did notice she’s Enclave, right?” I gave her a deadpan look. No, Night Strike, I didn’t notice the advanced power armor she was wearing, or her military attitude. She rolled her eyes. “The Grand Pegasus Enclave don’t... didn't like non-pegasi, to put it lightly.” I raised an eyebrow. Fringe, Flash-Bang and Sugar Rush from back home didn’t seem to hold any grudges. Well, besides other pegasus if Dad's stories were true. “Well, most didn’t,” she added, reading my expression.

We soon reached the edge of the small town, ponies milling this way and that, all surprisingly naked. Buh, warmer climate, of course... “I’m surprised Fringe didn’t tell you at some point. That was kind of their whole thing before that stable dweller ‘lightbringer’-whatever took them down.” Well, we were usually selling favors to each other and talking tech. I’m not that into philosophical discussions, Strikey... Night Strike blew out her nose, looking around. “Crap, just thought, where the hell are we going to find someone selling a map?”

“Uh... maybe there’s some kind of tourist attraction. They’d probably have something,” I suggested. “Of course… the trouble would be finding something worth showing off.” Strike gave a nod as we made our way through town. As we headed down the street, Night Strike suddenly gave a little squeal, walking over to a slightly cracked window with several large guns and explosives on display. I glanced up, the sign above the door reading ‘Sulfur’s Stockpile’. Night Strike made her way towards the door. “Um, we still need that map, yanno...”

“Oh, we won’t be spending all day in here. Besides, you can't prove they don't have one!” She smiled rather smugly, giddily stepping herself into the shop. I rolled my eyes but followed her in, getting a whiff of the powder charges and other things - Gun Runner's, Sulfur's Stockpile, these powder weapons stores all are the same to me... A pony stood at a display counter, marking off items and checking their condition. She turned her head as we trotted in, smiling and levitating the clipboard aside.

“Welcome to Sulfur’s Stockpile, the best place for things that go boom!” The mare said cheerily, Night Strike seeming to make her grin grow wider. I chuckled a little - I beg to differ on where to find the best explosions. “Anything I can get for you two?” Strike looked around at the various grenades and sticks of dynamite on display, checking her saddlebags for her caps. I checked my own bag of caps, and then moved to looking over the various items. As Night Strike and the owner discussed the price of a few grenades for Thumper, I spotted a few hoof grenades that were much thinner than the others, almost seeming to glow a little in the dim light.

I caught the attention of the owner as Strike passed her some caps, a smile on her muzzle and another big tin of grenades under her foreleg. “Oh, these are some flash-bangs. Highly concentrated specialized light spell, they won’t do much besides blind, deafen, and disorient somepony for a while.” Night Strike moved herself back over, myself glancing down at the glowing canisters again, the owner picking up one and tossing it in her hooves idly. “I'll admit they’re not too popular... been trying to get rid of them for a while, actually. 20 caps apiece sound good?” I answered her with a grin and nod, scooping up five and tossing them into my saddle bags as I poured out half of my caps into the mare’s satchel. She wore a bright grin as we moved for the exit, waving us goodbye. “Thanks for the business, guys! Come back anytime!”

As we made to head back out into the street, I paused and turned back to the owner, halfway through the door. “Oh, hey, do you know where we might be able to find a map of the area? Any sort of tourist-y places nearby?” The mare thought for a moment, leaning against one of the tables with a large minigun on display.

“There really isn’t much in the way of tourist attractions, at least, not up around this area. You could always try heading to Vanhoover tomorrow, of course.” She looked over the minigun as her horn began to glow, the clipboard hovering back over to her as she made a few marks. “There’s an old earth pony who used to do a few river tours before his boat broke down, he might have something for you. Check down by the town pub by the docks, he should be around there somewhere. Name’s Ripple, if I remember right.” I thanked her and we headed out the door, following a few rusted signs pointing towards the river peers.

“What on Earth did you get those things for?” Strike asked, motioning towards a flash bang poking out of my saddlebags. “A grenade isn’t a grenade if it isn’t going to kill a pony if you stuff it in their shirt, or, at least separate them from their legs.” She smirked as we rounded a corner, coming up to the banks of the river, a few wooden docks standing in the water, the posts covered in some grayish algae. A few fillies were playing near the river’s edge, building sand castles and splashing water at each other.

“Pardon me if I’d rather just end up blind for a moment if I get myself caught in the blast.” Shooting her a look, she immediately responded with an eyeroll. Well, sorry for having a sense of self preservation. I looked around the docks, but couldn’t really see any particularly old ponies anywhere. “You think you see him?” Night Strike shook her head, but pointed out at a small building sitting a few feet from the edge of the riverbank. We headed through the doors, myself admiring the two rifles that hung below the words ‘Winchester Pub’.

The doors squeaked as they swung shut behind us, the smell of alcohol hitting us both. The pub was full of ponies chatting, drinking, a few tossing darts or playing pool in the corner. I looked around, spotting a particularly old blue stallion sitting at the bar. He took a swig of cider as we approached, covering his mouth as he belched, his greying mane underneath a worn old hat. “Uh, Ripple?”

He spun on his stool to face us, looking slightly confused. “Ah, aye? Do I know you two?” Strike and I sat up on the stools beside him, the old stallion taking a moment to think, looking over us. Before we could answer, though, he hit himself in the head with his hoof. “Oh, you probably 'eard about the tours, didn’t you? I’m sorry, but poor ol' Trout’s not going anywhere anymore.” He took another sip of his cider, gulping it down with a faint sniffle.

“Ehm, what exactly happened to it?” The bartender trotted up to us, both Strike and I ordering a Sparkle Cola each. She shot a surprised look at myself, another mug of cider setting itself down in front of Ripple. Hey, just because my dad’s obsessed with Sunrise Sarsaparilla doesn’t mean I have to be! We tossed a few caps on the counter as he trotted off to retrieve the sodas.

“Poor girl, time wasn't kind to 'er. Couldn't keep up with keeping her parts in shape like I used to be... not to mention her bottom kept getting holes from the Celestia-damned monster sea ponies.” Both Night Strike and I looked a little shocked, before Ripple gave a raspy laugh, rubbing at his eyes. “Ah, I’m just messing with you, old mare's tale, that. I just, uh, tended to hit a few too many rocks, is all... But if Lugnut asks what I told you, say it’s the monsters.” He pointed out a large pony attempting to throw darts at a board hanging on the wall, though he had clearly had a few too many mugs of cider. “He’s been going on about seeing sea monsters all week. Ask me, he's been drinking more for the loss of Trout than I 'ave, and I was the one who owned that crate.”

The bartender returned with our sodas, Night Strike and I popping the cap off and taking a sip. “Actually, we heard you might have a map of the area, seeing how you gave tours, and such,” I said, pocketing the bottle cap. Ripple finished off his first cider, the barkeep quickly swooping in to remove it and wipe down his part of the counter.

“Aye, should have something back at my house. Haven't had a reason to use it in years, might get some cider spilled on it but I've got the only map I need up here." Letting off a chuckle, the old stallion tapped a hoof against the side of his head, turning himself about. He slid off of the stool and began to head towards the door, Strike and I following as we quickly finished our sodas, the bartender looking at the untouched mug of cider before shrugging and taking a gulp of it himself. We followed Ripple along the river, coming to a small shack with a boat moored at a short dock behind it. The stallion pushed open the door with a creak, lighting a small lamp hanging from the ceiling. The shack had clearly been used as an office not long ago, a desk shoved in the corner with a collection of maritime items hanging from the walls.

Ripple dug around in the desk below a sign marked with boat touring prices, retrieving a weathered piece of paper and unrolling it on a table. “So, d'you need the map, or just some directions?” Strike and I leaned over the table, looking over the yellowing paper. It showed a slightly smaller area than the maps on our Pip-Bucks, but Ripple has scrawled down several landmarks and cities onto the parchment.

“Ah, we really just need to punch in some stuff on these. Not from around these parts really, eheh...” Night Strike said, drawing his attention to our Pip-Bucks. Ripple let off a quiet sigh, nodding and moving himself over to a cot in the corner, as we began to mark various locations on our map. Let’s see, so we’ve got Maple Creek and Crash’s Lighthouse, there’s a river heading south to Vanhoover, a waterfall upstream, a few small towns here and there... Hopeville, boy, that sounds like a place from one of those old films... a couple military bases around, one due north of the town, and a small train junction just below the far northern mountainous region.

“Ah, right, the map don’t show it, but there’s also a hiking trail near that waterfall just upstream, it’ll take you to near the ridge. It’s a pretty view, but I don’t think a lot of ponies bother going anymore.” We finished marking the locations on our map, and Ripple rolled it back up, stashing it into his desk. “Heck, if you two could fix up Trout’s engine, I’d be happy to take you there sometime. The valley’s pretty rocky along the river there, it’s a hard road to walk. I think the engine just needs some scrap parts, but there’s just no good merchant in town for the ones I need. Probably'd be able to show you how to fix it if you got some.”

“Heh, we’re actually looking for some parts for our own-oof... Er, we’ll see if we can find something for your boat. Thanks for showing us the map, though.” Ripple nodded and held the door open for us as we trotted out, myself rubbing at my side where Night Strike had hit me. I didn't know you could use your wings like that! The sun was starting to move from its position directly overhead as we headed down the streets, moving back west. We were soon back at the edge of town, trotting down the road heading back towards Crash’s Lighthouse.

Crash Dive looked up from the water as we trotted up to her. “Well, I didn’t expect you two to be back so quickly. Still, gives me more time to cook these once we get back.” She patted two full cloth saddlebags, which were jumping around a bit as some fish flopped around inside. She stood herself up and swung her fishing pole over her back. “You did actually find a map, right?”

Night Strike nodded. “It didn’t go any further south than Vanhoover, but it pointed out enough towns and old bases close by that we should be able to find some kind of genie for fixing the Valkyrie.” We all began to walk back down the road, Night Strike flipping on her radio as we did.

“Welcome back, this is Radio KAOS with all your Pre-War favorites. No confirmed reports on the mysterious crashed object, though we have got a rumor of it saying it’s, um…” There was a rustle of paper, the announcer letting off a quiet groan. “Zebra ghosts that don’t know they’re dead. Apparently tried to build a rocket to the moon to paint it pink and draw Discord’s face on it. You've gotta be kidding me...” The announcer snorted as he tried to hold back a laugh. “Heh, well, we’ll hopefully find out sooner or later whether we should be aiming any megaspells we’ve got left skywards for you, dear listener. I'd suggest heading for Hopeville in the meantime, they've got a great shrink there. For the more sensible, here’s some classics...” There was a pause, and the scratch of a needle falling onto a record as a jazzy drum beat began, soon joined by a chorus of trumpets and saxxes.

“Ooh, I love this song!” I said, swinging my rump to the tune as Night Strike tried to bite back a laugh, and Crash placed her hoof to her forehead.

---

We soon arrived back at Crash Dive’s lighthouse, having carefully wound our way past the various traps she’d laid out. The water was lapping at the rocks just a few feet below us now, the tide starting to come in. We headed into the small living quarters, Crash flicking on a light as Night Strike and I sat ourselves down at the table. Her stomach growled loudly. “Jeez, eheh, I guess I forgot how hungry I am.”

Crash Dive pulled the fish out of her saddlebags, dropping them onto the counter before digging around in her cupboards for a pan. She flipped on the stove and placed a pan onto the warming metal. “Alright, we’ll be heading out at oh-five hundred again, or we’re not making it to Seahoof Armory before nightfall.” Both Night Strike and myself groaned, Crash Dive shooting us a glare. “Well, unless you’d rather try to fight those poisonous bloatsprites in the dark, of course.” I grumbled to myself, but didn’t protest any further.

We ate in silence once the fish was complete, all of us heading to bed early to get enough sleep for tomorrow. Bluh, I better set an alarm so I’m not stuck eating nothing but a half cooked fish again... I settled onto the cot as Strike slipped into the bed beside it, turning the light off. Light flashed from outside as a storm began to roll in, the rain pattering against the window. I rolled myself over in bed, closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep as a low rumble filled the air. Thunder, right, it's just a rainstorm. Lightning flashed again, and the boom was much louder this time, making myself jump up from the cushions, catching my breath.

Goddess-damnit, why did nature have to sound like imminent death!?

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