Fallout Equestria; Hard Roads

Chapters

Prologue: Question and Answer
Chapter 1: Hit the Bricks
Chapter 2: Perspectives
Chapter 3: What Goes Around

Prologue: Question and Answer

Prologue: Question and Answer

“Today's weather: Excessively violent with a chance of dismemberment. Stay tuned for our five-day forecast!”

Death.

Death is the only truth of the wasteland; the only reality.

Beyond the taint and the radiation, beyond the twisted and fucked up “wild life”, there are hordes of assholes who exist for the sole purpose of making everpony else's lives as short and miserable as fucking possible. Drug fiends, raiders, cannibals, slavers; all of them ready to do anything to get what they want. Well, everything except maybe asking nicely.

Some ponies may see these assholes doing whatever it is they're doing and ask, “Why? Why would they do something like that to somepony else? Why would they kill them? Rape them? Slap an explosive collar around their necks?”

They do it because they have to. They do it because they will do anything to get away from this fucked up world; to get away from whatever the hell they turned into. They do it to get away from what they feel. Most of all, though, they do it to survive.

For me, it was to get my next fix.

Most of my childhood is a blur, a distant dash induced haze. I drifted place to place on a constant high, faster and more awesome than than anypony else. I didn't feel anything for what I did; stealing food and more dash from shop owners. They were weak, and I was awesome; it was as simple as that.

One huff and I was better than all of them. I never got hungry. I never got tired. I was too good to slow down.

Without it, though, I was nothing. I needed it the same way a fish needs water, or a pony needs air. Without it I was weak, hungry, and tired. I tried whatever I needed to get more, but dash never came cheap. It was more than a small homeless colt could afford. There were times when the shakes got so bad, when the all the cold I had been too awesome to feel caught up with me, and I would have done anything to get rid of it. I had even huffed brahmin shit trying to get some sort of fix.

Even when I was so young, I did what I thought I had to do to get what I needed.

* * *

I'm not sure where I was, but it was cold and dark, even for the wasteland.

The soft glow of a light from the window of a merchant's wagon stood out vividly against the dark night.

I shivered as a cold wind blew through my already ruffled and greasy mane. I had waited all day for a chance to get inside. There was no need for me to hide; the dirt in my coat blended in perfectly with the rubble.

I could just barely make out the silhouette of the trader in the darkness, leaving towards the bar. I tried to steady my nervous shaking as I lifted myself up just high enough to crawl towards the battered wagon.

I looked tentatively from left to right, making sure nopony was watching. I knew she had dash in there. I had tried to get it from her earlier, but she wouldn't give me any, even though I had promised to pay her later.

I picked myself up and leaned on the sill with my forehooves.

The window was too dusty to see through.

Laughter from the bar shook my attention. I needed to act fast before anypony else could stop me.

Without hesitation I lifted back and put as much force as I could into the window's panes. The glass cracked and shattered under my weight, sending me part way into the window. I jumped in, not wasting a moment, ignoring the jagged shards of glass tearing at my stomach as I pulled myself all the way through.

I set about frantically shifting through everything there; knocking over the few boxes and crates, pulling out drawers, breaking what locks I could. I rummaged through the piles of worthless scrap metal and damaged weapons now spilled on the floor. The sharp angles of random salvage scraped at my nose as I pushed through the piles of things I had dumped on the floor.

Broken gun, no. Lead pipe, no. Clipboards, no. . . . . .

Voices sounded from outside the wagon. They must have heard me break in; they sounded angry.

I jumped as I backed up into a small desk behind me, knocking over a small wooden crate. How the hell can anypony find anything in a mess like that?

I turned around to the box; small and locked. Of course it was.

I needed that dash, I couldn't handle the cold, I just needed . . . .

“AAARG!!” I shouted in frustration, stomping down hard on the box. However complicated the lock was, apparently the box wasn't too strong. The lid dented as the hinges on the back of the small crate bent and flew off.

I clenched the lid in my teeth, jerking my head sharply to the side, trying to rip off the lid.

The voices outside grew louder, they knew. . . .

I jerked the lid again, and again. With one final pull, the lid came off. Along with assorted syringes and pill bottles, there they were; three of the blue inhalers I has looking for. . . .

Thump Thump. The pile of small crates I had inadvertently piled up shook as somepony kicked the door behind me.

Now, more than ever, I needed dash. I needed to be awesome.

I picked one of the inhalers up in my teeth, curling my lips around it. I pressed down the button on top as I breathed in as much of the spray as I could. It stung the back of my throat, but I could already feel the dash working as the world stopped shaking. Even the pain in the back of my eyes that I had forgotten left, making everything much clearer.

Thump.

Right, somepony at the door. Probably dangerous. I was going to need another huff.

I pressed down for another spray, breathing in what was left of the inhaler.

Thump.

The boxes tumbled down. I turned around, seeing the merchant standing there in the opening of the narrow space. A mare. Standing in my way.

A rusted pistol glowed with magic as she levitated it in front of her.

“C'mon kid,” She stepped back, motioning with her pistol, “Get outta' here. You got what you wanted.”

Who was she to tell me what to do?! I was awesome, and her? She was hungry, and weak. She, didn't have dash and I did!

She hesitated, “C'mon kid, I don't wana' hurt you.”

Me? She was going to hurt, me?

“Kid . . .”

That was the last straw. I leaped under her gun, faster than she could react. My shoulder collided heavily with her chest, knocking her to the ground back from the wagon. She tried to levitate the gun around to shoot me from the ground, but I was faster than her. I knocked the pistol away with a kick, and aimed a heavy kick right at her horn.

She screamed in pain as the horn broke with a sickening crunch.

But I wasn't finished.

I threw kick after kick with my forehooves down into her chest. I wasn't as big as she was, but I didn't need to be; because I was awesome.

Blow after blow landed, as I shouted with each kick, “I! AM! NOT! WEAK! YOU! CAN'T! HURT! ME!”

I pulled back, panting through clenched teeth.

Crack!

The gunshot rent the air, and for a moment everything was silent. Three bucks bearing pistols ran out of the bar.

I jumped hard from where I was, bolting as fast as my legs could carry me. Voices shouted behind me as my hooves pounded dust out of the ground below me. The whistle of bullets filled my ears, but I was to fast for them. Plumes of dirt rose from the ground where the bullets collided with the ground and ricocheted off into the night.

The yells faded into the distance behind me, but I kept running. And running. And running.

I ran until I felt the ground start to pull me down again. I grew heavier and slower as the haze grew over my eyes again.

I was hungry; and I was tired; and I was weak, but I kept running. I ran until my lungs burned. My heart pounded so heavily that it threatened to wrench itself out of my chest.

Tears stung my eyes as I stopped. My throat burned as I coughed heavy, dry coughs.

I collapsed onto the ground as my coughs died into ragged sobs.

I curled onto my side, cowering against the cold air. Hot tears from my eyes and blood from the gashes on my stomach mingled with the sandy earth beneath me.

“Why?” I asked myself between sobs. Why did she have to get my way? Why did she have to be weak? Why did she have to die?

Why did I have to kill her?

My sobs faded to whimpers as I shut my eyes against the dark and the cold, praying for sleep.

* * *

The next morning I was woken up by the edge of a rusted spear at my neck.

“Lucky us, looks like we found a snack.”

Fuck.. I opened my eyes and looked up; into the yellowed eyes of a gaunt, deranged looking buck. His smile widened into a sick, distorted grin, showing off all the sharpened nubs of his teeth. I shuddered. It was all I could do to keep from pissing myself.

“Fuck off, Lily.” A chain pulled taut behind him, “Ya' can't eat 'im, ya idjit, we can't sell 'im if he's dead.”

I turned to see the red coated mare that levitated the spear at my throat.

“Get on your feet.”

I struggled to try not to shake to hard as I picked myself up, but the wind felt like it was itching beneath my skin, and even the usual dim light of the shrouded sun burned the backs of my eyes.

“Ha! Look at 'im,” A buck's rough voice called from behind me, “He's 'bout to pass out agin' just lookin' at us.”

I squinted at the mare holding the spear, trying to look her in the eye. Damn it was bright out. Her manged crimson coat and the fire blackened tips of her orange hair stood out rocky hillside behind her, and her eyes were vibrant gold; proud and alive. She was barely older than I was, but she was already bigger and stronger than I was.

“No, it's something else,” An older brown buck said from behind her, stepping forward.

He motioned at the darkened earth at my hooves, “That piss, kid?”

I looked down at the ground. No, that was tears and blood, though the blood was probably hard to tell from my dark red coat. I shook my head slowly.

She tilted her head, looking around at the others, “Look at these cuts,” she pointed the spear down towards the shallow gashes on my sides, “He don't even have his cutie mark and he's already seen some action.”

The spear levitated back to her, planting itself into the ground beside her as she looked up proudly, “Reminds me o' me.”

The buck beside her shook his head, “'Cept you have a horn. . . . . . . and that was only three months ago.”

“And your dick's bigger!”

“Shut it, Lily!” A rock glowed as she flung it somewhere behind me.

“Wha'dya' think, Pops? He looks small, but he looks like he might have some game in 'im.”

She took another look at me, “Somewhere.”

The buck stepped forward, circling around me. I tried to turn my head as he looked me over, but I couldn't stop shaking.

He stepped back to her side, shaking his head, “I don't think we have much of a choice. No slaver'd buy anypony in this condition. If they caught 'im sure, but buy 'im. . . . . . . . . if we wait for Meatwagon we could get mebe thirty, forty caps for him.”

Meatwagon; didn't much sound like poppies and sunshine to me.

The red mare scowled, “I hate dealing with Meatwagon, he smells like burnt cheese and griffin shit.”

“Well, unless you want to just leave him here, I'd say only thing we can do with 'im is the Playpen.”

Somehow I didn't think the Playpen was gonna' be all that much better.

“Haha, yeah,” Lily barked out behind me, “Smells your age. Just small. Kinda' like Dash. Let 'im play.”

Lily hacked a strange chortling noise as the chains rattled behind me.

“Just uh,” She motioned her spear, spinning it in my direction, “Wrap him up in bandages or something. He can't play if he's already bleedin'. Then let's go. Only a couple o' miles to Ponyville.”

I tried not to wince as the Brown buck brushed the sand from my wounds and levitated a band of grungy looking bandage around my waist and chest. It stung, but I was glad to get the cuts covered. It hurt a hell of a lot less than leaving them filled with sand and exposed to the wind.

* * *

While there wasn't any sun in the sky, that doesn't mean it couldn't get hot. Especially with those bandages wrapped around me. The brown buck had fashioned them on real tight, and hooked them on with little metal prongs.

Though it was probably a good thing that I was found, I was pretty damn sure these weren't exactly good ponies. In fact, I wasn't even sure why they had left me alive. “Pops” was level headed enough, but Bit, the red mare, was eager and proud. Lily, though. . . . . Lily just scared me. Between the crazy yellow eyes, the sharpened teeth, and the talk of eating other ponies, nothing about him looked very nice at all. Thank Luna Trashcan always kept a good strong grip on his leash.

“Here, kid,” Pops levitated a piece of radroach meat in front of me as we walked.

“I'm not hungry.” That was a lie; my stomach was killing me. I felt that if ate anything, though, that I'd just hurl it back up.

“Don't gimme' that,” He said, jamming the stale jerky into my mouth, “I've seen what dash does to a pony. Ya' need ta' eat.”

I grudgingly chewed the rubbery meat. Well, I tried to, at least. It refused to break apart in my mouth. It was kind of like chewing on an old boot, except the boot would have tasted better. I eventually gave up trying, and swallowed it whole. My eyes watered as I choked it down, holding my breath in the hopes that it would stay down. Goddesses that was nasty.

Apparently my stomach liked it better than I did, as it growled in satisfaction.

“Thanks,” I said weakly.

“Don't mention it kid,” He said, floating another piece of radroach meat into my mouth, “Can't have you dying on us just yet.”

I tried not to think about where exactly they were taking me as I worked the tough piece strip of radroach.

“Is the colt going to fight, what if the colt doesn't want to fight?”I could here Lily muttering behind me.

“No!”

Did he just snap at himself?

“No, he will fight, he will fight. You can tell, can't you,” There was a sniffing noise somewhere behind me.

“Yes, yes. He will fight. . . . .”

Well, that explained what the Playpen was. At least I was alive for now. Alive and fed. After I finished the second piece of radroach at least. My jaw was already getting sore just from chewing it.

* * *

Ponyville was a horror show. I had heard stories that the six mares responsible for the fucked mess that we call Equestria had once lived here. Seeing what had happened to their home, well . . . . . whatever they did that destroyed everything, it came at a cost.

Every inch of town was covered in little squiggles; graffiti. I had seen it before, but I had never learned how to read. No doubt their meanings were as vile as the ponies living here. Nopony was seen without their rough leather barding, or hardened or manic expressions plaguing their faces.

And they had weapons weapons. Everywhere.

Rusted, duct taped, jagged, or covered in barbed wire; everything here looked in some way shape or form deadly. Or at the very least, made to hurt ponies. And by the way they treated the ones they had on leashes, well. . . . . I was glad that my captors were as gentle as they were.

Bit, Pops, and Trashcan had wandered off somewhere and left me tied to the side of a chain link fence. . . . . .

Right next to Lily. Not that his sharpened teeth and murderous yellowed eyes weren't friendly enough for me, but this guy had a seriously bad smell to him. Like rotten bacon. And piss. Like somepony pissed on rotten bacon.

At least the other raiders kept their distance.

We sat there a long while. My eyes were starting to feel the sting of going without dash again. I had gone without it for as long as a month at a time, but that never made it any easier to manage.

Lily looked over at me, something off about his look. Well, more off than his “I'm hungry” look from before.

“It's not that bad,” He said, breaking the silence.

“It's not that hard, killing ponies,” He said, looking off somewhere in the distance.

I wasn't sure where this was going, but I pretended not to listen. Talking with him was bound to be about as enlightening as talking to slenderpony.

“That's alright; ya' don't have ta' talk,” He said, flashing a twisted grin, “Just listen. Nopony listens to Lily anymore. . . .”

He sighed, dropping the smile.

“I didn't always use to be like this, ya' know. I used to be. . . . . well, different. I don't much know if I was normal or not. I'm not sure there is a such thing as normal anymore. . . . .

“We traveled around, doin' odd jobs for caps; ma' brother and I. Mostly bounties. They were easy. Go somwhere, kill sompony, take your caps. Well, they were easier for him. Best shot in the waste, he was.

“But we wanted more. We went up to the Hoof to try our luck, but things got messy. On our first job he got bit, and bad. The infection alone nearly killed 'im, but I was good 'nuff with fixin' ponies up.

“'Couple nights later, though, he went nuts. His eyes went all yellow and he kept chatterin' on 'bout being hungry or somethin'. I thought it was just the wastes getting' to him. Ponies go haywire all the time. I woke up the next night with his teeth around my throat.”

He looked at me, strait in the eyes, “I killed him.”

He looked back away, “It was easy. He was trying to kill me, so I killed him first. 'Course I got a nasty infection and this scar 'cross my neck for it now. . . .”

He lifted his chin and motioned to a jagged red line showing underneath the collar against his grungy yellow coat.

He looked down at the ground, laughing quietly to himself.

“When I got my cutie mark, I was excited. Thought I could be the best chef in all Equestria . . . .”

I glanced down at his cutie mark; a frying pan.

“Never thought I'd ever want to cook another pony,” He said, his voice nearly a whisper.

That was . . . . . . disgusting. But that was sad. I didn't know much about destiny. I never much cared. I still didn't have a cutie mark of my own, so I didn't really think all that much about it. But for somepony to have their purpose in life twisted like that . . . . . .

“But killing,” His look hardened, “Killing is easy.”

“Yeah, easy. . . . ,” I said softly, more to myself than to him.

* * *

When Bit and Pops eventually got back, the sky had already started to darken. Some ponies had even started small fires on the other side of the city bridge.

“Are you sure he'll even fight?”

“He doesn't really have a choice. . . .”

Pops said more, but I wasn't paying attention. Sticking out of Bit's saddle pack was an oh so familiar blue inhaler. . . .

“I'll do it,” I said, interrupting whatever it was they were saying. “I'll figh. . . ow!” The rope around my middle tightened as I tried to stand up, pulling me back down to the ground. I flinched as part of the bandage peeled off, exposing one of the cuts along my stomach.

“Well,” I rubbed the back of my head with my hoof, “If you get me that dash I would . . . .”

“I'm not sure,” Bit said, looking at Pops as he worked to tighten the bandages back into place, “He won't be winning any caps like this. Maybe if we let him rest for a day or two. . . . “

“No,” He returned, his eyes hardened, “A few more days without dash and he'd be bigger than you are.”

She looked at me, confused.

“Yeah, the kid's probably about your age,” He levitated the dash from her saddle packs, motioning at me with it, “He's probably been on this shit his whole life. I've seen it before, up by Flank. Foals born addicts die if they don't get enough of it, born all fucked up. . . .”

My gaze followed the inhaler as he waved it back and forth.

He lowered it, shaking his head, “To heal right he'd need a month or two without it. That long he could get back to normal. But more likely,” He said, leveling with Bit, “He'll die.”

There was a long silence. That would explain quite a lot.

“Well, that buys it,” I said, “Looks like I have to do it.”

That was big, but if living without the dash meant being weak like I was right then, not even able to move without hurting myself, well. . . . . then there was no real choice. It was better to die than to live like that.

“It's not like we have much of a choice either,” He said to Bit, ignoring me, “We need the caps. That spear o' yours is about to break, and Luna knows what'd happen if we don't get Lily's chain fixed. Or would you rather be left in that hole I found you?”

Bit looked like she was going to say something, but a large metal door on the building next to us swung open. An earth pony in a striped suit stood in the doorway. The suit looked like it had seen better days, but this buck's white fur was spotless. Which believe me, in a town full of scarred up ponies wearing little more than leather and dirt and the occasional piece of metal, he looked like he could have been straight out of one of those pre-war posters.

“Hey Popsicle,” He said, “I hear you got a small one ready to play?”

Pops nodded, “ Right here, Bank.”

Bank stepped forward, looking me up and down as he circled me.

“Hmm,” He looked back to Pops. “Kinda small . . . .”

If I had dash on me right then . . . . .

“Picked him up this morning,” He nodded, “Kid can barely walk the way he is. A huff o' dash'd make him equal to anypony else you got in there.”

“Can't do that.”

“Oh yeah?” Bit piped up, raising her chin up defiantly, “And why the fuck not?”

“It's against the rules,” Bank said flatly, “I haven't made all my caps by breaking my own rules. . . .” He turned back to Pops, “I could enter him in a weapons match, though, if dash would be his weapon.”

“You mean you expect us to send him in there unarmed?” Pops looked down thinking it over.

“Gimme' an extra fifteen per cent and it's done.”

“Ten.”

“Deal.”

“Good,” Bank shot him a smug smirk before walking back inside, “Puff him up and throw him in. Next is in match in five.”

Pops levitated out the dash inhaler and shoved it in my mouth. I hungrily wrapped my lips around the mouthpiece. Without waiting for Pops to press it down, I pushed the button all the way down with my hoof, closing my eyes as I breathed in as deeply as I could. I could feel my heart speed up; I could feel the muscles in my legs tightening; I could feel the burning in the back of my eyes leaving . . . .

* * *

My eyes snapped open. I was so engulfed in draining every last drop from that inhaler that I hadn't even noticed that they had moved me to the ring.

Short metal walls around me rose just high enough for the ponies in the crowd to peer over. Their grungy faces and bloodshot eyes stared intently at me and the pockmarked and bloodstained stone floor. Their bloodthirsty roars mingled into a single, constant, malicious grumble.

Across from me stood the unicorn colt; my apparent enemy. His eyes were as angry and as hard as the raiders watching us. Faded brown bloodstains speckled his off white coat and sweat beaded down from his horn and rugged crimson mane. No doubt both stemming from the heavy looking red brick hanging from a chain levitating at his side. . . . .

He wasted no time waiting for me to even stand up completely as he charged recklessly forward, whirling the brick above his head by its chain.

I shoved myself off the ground towards him with all four legs, before he could bring the heavy stone down on my head. My shoulder collided heavily with his, stopping me where we hit and sending him back. He was muscular and heavy, though, and stumbled back only a couple steps. I was too fast, though, and was on him before he could act.

I swung out with my forehooves, one and then the other. Never staying in the same place where he could hit me with that rock he was swinging. I ducked under his broad throws, only hitting him with what I could get without being hit. Each strike did little more than piss him off, but every time he attacked, he was rewarded only with his brick glancing off the hard stone floor.

He may have been stronger, but I was much, much, more awesome.

The crowd roared in primal delight as he screamed in frustration. He redoubled his efforts, whipping the chain around faster and faster as he tried to force me closer and closer to the metal wall behind me.

The brick skimmed my mane as I ducked back again, just barely dodging the heavy blow. He followed me step by step, pressing his assault. It was all I could do to not get hit as his chain became a spinning blur in front of me.

Fuck. I felt the cold steel of the wall behind me, but he didn't let up. He laughed in arrogant triumph as he swung the chain in a broad arch behind him, aiming a heavy blow at my head. I dove forward as he swung, barely making it away from the deadly attack.

My hoof caught on his as I bolted, and I stumbled forward.

I tried to pick myself back up, but it was too late. Before I could turn to face him he heavy brick slammed against my jaw, shattering in a red-brown mist. Dull pain exploded down from the side of my face and down my back and my ears rang from his back swing that threw me down to the ground. I looked up from the ground, but I could barely see his silhouette moving through the dust that coated my face.

Suddenly, the now separated chain pierced through the already vanishing cloud and wrapped itself around my neck. I raised my hooves to my neck to try and pull the chains free, but before I could even roll over he leaped onto me, pinning my hooves to the ground underneath his. I tried to shout in pain, to fill my screaming lungs with air, but the sound caught in my throat.

The shouts of the crowd grew distant and muffled as my ears went numb. My limbs burned in pain as my vision went gray; devoid of all color. Dark tendrils grasped at the edges of my vision, threatening to pull me under completely. I struggled to get out, but he just pushed down harder.

I stared up into his vengeful glare.

He was going to kill me.

I was going to die.

My body went numb as the world died down to a whisper. Time slowed as the beat of my heart overtook all my senses.

Thump thump

“Who is it going to be?” A soft voice whispered in my ears.

Thump thump

“Who is going to die; you, or him?”

Thump thump

The beats of my heart slowed to a crawl.

No. I wasn't going to die.

Thump thump

“Somepony has to die. . . . Whose it gonna' be?”

Thump thump

Him.

I tensed my hind legs and pounded every last inch of strength I had into a single, earth shattering kick. Right between his hind legs.

The chain released around my neck as he rolled to the ground next to me. I pulled the chain away from my neck as fast as I could, trying to suck in as much air as possible. I rolled onto my hooves and pushed myself up, coughing ragged and dry coughs as my lungs burned for the air it lacked.

The colt struggled to his feet, but he collapsed back into a heap, sobbing with the effort. I could see the glow wrapping itself around the now plain chain. , , ,

I planted my forelegs and sent my rear hooves in a buck of terrifying force, jarring my own back with the impact. I hacked out another rasping cough, but there was no time to waste. I turned and sprang onto him. He struggled wildly beneath me, but I wasn't going to give him the opening that he gave me.

One after another, I brought blow after blow down on his throat, each one colliding with a sickening pop. I didn't stop. I didn't stop until he went still.

I rolled off of his limp form, leaning my head back as I panted raggedly. The dash drained from my body and my legs became sore once more. The pounding of my heart gradually slowed down to something more reasonable.

A felt a tingling sensation on my flank . . . . .

I twisted and looked back at it, not wanting to get up.

A broken brick. What the fuck does that even mean? A brick broken in two.

I didn't care, though. I was alive.

The wasteland asked me the question, and I answered.

Note: Welcome to level one!

Traits: Heavy Hoofed: Your unarmed blows are heavy, but lack finesse, dealing more damage, but doing less critical damage.

Chem Reliant: CHEMS CHEMS CHEMS CHEMS . . . . . . Chems have a greater effect on you, but you have a greater chance of getting addicted . . . . . CHEMS!

Chapter 1: Hit the Bricks

Chapter One: Hit the Bricks

“Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn.”

Bricks.

I was tired of fucking bricks. Having one broken over your head has that effect on a pony.

I woke up to the heartwarming sight of a dingy brick wall. Was I supposed to break them or something? Or maybe I just happen to get a broken brick as my cutie mark I somehow managed to break a brick with my face. Or maybe it was that I was destined to smash more bricks with my face.

Oh well, it didn't really matter. I was in too much fucking pain to think clearly. My body was numb with bruises; my neck throbbed and my back was still stiff. More than anything, my throat hurt. Every breath came down like dry fire, and my bones ached as though a million tiny ponies crawled beneath my skin and were mining my at my bones.

And it didn't help that to distract from the familiar tearing at my chest or merciless pounding at my temples. . . .

“Dash . . .” I rasped. I didn't know how long I was out, but I was sure I hadn't got any dash while I was out. I knew it would probably kill me, but it would take away the pain. “I . . . need dash.”

“The mare's been dead two hundred years now and ponies are still screamin' her name out in bed.” I could hear Bit and Trashcan laughing. Sweet goddesses that sounded loud. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the excruciating noise.

“They don't got any,” I could hear Lily say somewhere next to me, thankfully talking softer than the others, “Couldn't really get ya' any even if they wanted too. They never thought ya' would live. I knew you would, yeah, I knew. . . .”

I clenched my teeth and rolled over onto my stomach. Beyond all the pain I felt . . . . heavier. I did notice, as I felt the stained and frayed mattress beneath me, that the cuts on my stomach had healed.

“Good news is that they decided to keep ya' along,” I could see him now, chained to the dark, soot covered fireplace. It was a relief just knowing that he hadn't eaten me in my sleep. “From what I heard, you fought pretty well. A few more days clean and you'd probably be able to take Bit. Probably . . .”

“O' 'course then I'd have to kill you,” Bit said with a smirk, hovering some sort of stew in front of me. The room was small, but in surprisingly good shape as most of the bricks were still there and the windows still had glass. The stew's aroma hit me hard, smelling something akin to buffalo sweat, but that in itself was a major improvement on radroach meat.

“Thanks,” I muttered hoarsely. That chain had really worked a number on my throat. Between being strangled with a rusty chain and years of shoving dash down my lungs there was no way that was going to heal any time soon.

The soup was just out my reach, so I tried to stand up and reach my head forward. My legs had other ideas though. They stumbled beneath me on the awkwardly buoyant bed, my joints burning as though my legs had been pulled and stretched, before being flattened out. I grunted in pain and collapsed back down into the dank mattress, slumping in resignation.

“Growing pains,” Lily shook his head. “Your body has years to make up for. You've been too small for too long.” His frightening yellowed eyes leveled with mine, “Dash is not good for little ponies.”

Bit levitated the stew in front of me between my forehooves. For a moment I could have sworn that there was a look of concern that flashed across her features, but only for a moment. She lifted up her spear, to inspect it's jagged edge before floating up a roll of duct tape.

I turned to the soup in front of me, lowering my face into its billowing steam. Boiled bloatsprite. Believe me, it was far more appetizing than it sounded. The meat had been cleverly chopped to hide its origins and boiled into a thin broth. Hell, there were even bits of potato in there! While potatoes were one of the few things able to actually grow in Equestria's fucked up soil, most ponies used it to make alcohol.

Vodka; a waste of a damned good potato, if you ask me.

I tested it with a few sips, before clenching the battered bowl in my teeth and tilting my head back to greedily suck down the surprisingly rich soup. It may not have been any advanced medication, but a hot meal helped; soothing my throat as the warmth spread throughout by sore limbs.

Pops chuckled from behind me.

“If he keeps up that appetite we could eat our way through the wasteland.”

“Yeah,” Trashcan said, “If the fucker gets any bigger, though, we'll have ta' start draggin' trains just ta' keep him fed.”

Big? I didn't feel very big. Well, that's not entirely true. I felt more weighed down and sluggish than usual, but that's normally what happened when I was without dash. Ugh. Dash. Just thinking about it sent my head reeling. More than it already was, anyway.

Yeah, there was no way I would be pulling trains in this condition.

“You've been out for three days,” Bit said, scraping a strange rectangular stone against the blade of her spear, “Pops was gonna' leave you there, but you fought hard. I figured you'd be useful after a few days without dash.”

Eyup. A true element of kindness, to be sure. When it comes down to it, everypony in the wasteland wants something, so I guess I really wasn't surprised. I didn't care, though. I was alive, and they would keep me alive so long as I fought for them.

And I was in no mood to die.

Lily was right; given the choice, I would rather live. At least I didn't have a rusty collar around my neck like he did.

“Ya' best get some sleep,” She said, lowering her spear, “We gotta' get some work tomorrow.”

She raised her head up, speaking purposefully loud, “Because somepony blew all his caps on whores!”

Trashcan laughed loudly behind me.

I knew I should probably get some sleep. I could barely move let alone fight. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the throbbing in my temples long enough to sleep. Trashcan and Pops' talking by the fire didn't soften, though, stinging my ears. If I only had dash, I wouldn't need to sleep. . . . . .

* * *

Darkness wrapped around me, pulling only away far enough for me to see the chipped and dented cement floor. Dim light grew around me, exposing the rusted iron walls of the Playpen. The walls rose high up into the sky, their towering supports groaning under their own weight.

Ponies shouted and jeered from atop the massive walls, throwing refuse and junk down from the wall, adding to growing piles in front of the blood stained metal.

A heavy clanking sound echoed from around me as the crowd hushed.

I turned in time to see giant, mechanical doors grind and clang open, pulled up by rusted and creaking chains. Beyond the opening was complete darkness. . . . . but a giant hoof stepped out. And then another. . . . .

It was him; the colt from the arena.

I turned and ran for all I had, shoving off from the ground and launching into a full canter. The ground shuddered behind me as my hooves pounded against the cold, hard ground.

I looked back just in time enough to see him swing his brick as his menacing smirk spread into a sadistic grin. I dove to the side as the brick smashed the ground where I just was. The ground behind me shuddered as it caved in. I lept again and again as chunks of concrete fell into the darkness behind me. I turned to him to see him collapse into the void himself. . . .

The ground shook again. A giant white leg shot up from the void, grasping over the edge of the jagged precipice.

I stepped back, my heart beating out a terrified rythym.

The second hoof shot out, pulling his wicked, determined glare over the edge of the pit.

I stumbled back . . . .

And tumbled down off the edge of the cement floor. I tried to scream but all my throat could manage was a haggard rasp. Darkness engulfed everything as I fell down with the rubble that had piled up around the walls of the arena; empty dash inhalers.

One by one they disappeared into the shadows until only one remained.

I collided heavily with the rough floor, the empty inhaler landing beside me.

Then the white colt plummeted from above me, landing on top of me in a pinning embrace. This time he was my size, though, and I could do it. I could kill him. I could survive.

The crowd, now leaning over the small walls of the Playpen, roared it's approval as we struggled there on the floor. He slammed his hoof down heavily, but I moved my head to the side and it struck uselessly against the ground. I shifted my weight and threw my forehooves over him, twisting hard. Our bodies wrenched as he suddenly flipped beneath me. I pinned him under one forehoof and raised the other to ready a strike.

Without hesitation, I brought down my hoof on his face, once, twice, three times. . . .

My eyes widened in shock as looked down into the eyes of the merchant mare from the night before the arena.

“You got what you wanted,”

No! This wasn't supposed to happen. Why?

Why did she have to die?

* * *

“Wake up fucker,” Somepony kicked me in the side, sending me sprawling over the moldy wooden floor.

“Ugh,” I groaned. I opened my eyes to see Trashcan laughing to himself.

“Get up,” He smirked, brandishing what looked to me like some sort of high tech fork; pronged with two spheres connected to wires that ran down the length of the handle. Ponies sure made some weird things before the war.

I rolled over to press myself up from the ground. I still felt heavy and sluggish, but the world wasn't spinning like it was before I passed out. It didn't stop him from swinging the fork at me anyway. It sparked against my flank, blinding me with jagged pain and shooting lines of fire up the inside of my spine. A rough spasm jerked me up into the air and tossed me across the room, the collision from the floor shaking me out of the glaring white light under my eyes.

Trashcan doubled over in laughter, stumbling against the door frame in a vain attempt to stay standing.

I would've said something, but at the moment it was all I could do to keep my lightning paced heart from exploding.

Note to self: Do not touch cyber-forks.

“C'mon,” He ordered between laughs, motioning with the wired fork, “Get out there.”

I slowly stood up, cautiously looking over my shoulder. I couldn't trust him not to hit me with it again. He may have been shorter than me, but he was one sick motherfucker. . . . .

Wait. I was taller than him now? I knew I was deathly thin, by how I could feel the breeze from the door brushing the coat between my ribs, but somehow it made me feel better. At least I felt less weak.

Well, that is until a threatening wave of the electric fork thingy reminded me of exactly how little that actually mattered.

I scrambled out the door, not wanting to test his patience. The harsh morning light forced me to squint. Even though I'm sure it was dimmed by the constant cloud cover, I had spent more than three days indoors. Not that the rest had helped much with the headaches or the nightmares.

“. . . And I don't got any jobs I need done,” It was the suited stallion from the day before. “Not that would give you any,” He spat, shooting a glare at me.

“C'mon, not even word of a caravan we could sack? Nopony 'at needs killin'?” Bit asked.

“Not after throwin' that fucking dash-head in there,” He huffed back to the Playpin, “I wouldn't have let ya' put 'im in if I had known he was that old.”

“I hate to say it,” Bit said turning to Pops,”But Meatlocker's prob'ly our best bet. He just came down from Manehattan, so he'll know of anypony tryin' to come down.”

Pops nodded to himself, “Yeah, one or two raids could hold us over for a while. At least 'till things cool down enough down south for us to get in on that new deal in Appleoosa.”

“Fucking Trashcan,” Bit laughed, “Ya' just couldn't keep yer'self from pissin' off those assholes.”

“Hey,” Trashcan grinned sheepishly up at Pops and Bit, “I coulda' sworn that buck was a mare.”

I had no idea what exactly they were talking about, but knowing Trashcan it was probably something I was sure I didn't want to know.

“You guys stay here,” Pops turned and started across the ruined town square, “I'll go deal with Meatlocker. Last thing we need is Lily gettin' snacky.”

You know, I could have left right there. Sure they would have chased after me, but I was always fast enough. Even as a foal, or whatever the hell I had been a few days before, I had outrun more than my fair share of angry ponies. Once or twice without dash, even. As much as these raiders could have killed me, though, they didn't. They were some of the only ponies that hadn't tried to kill me.

And as long as I fought for them, I got food and safety. Relative safety. But still, that was as much as a pony could hope for.

Pops walked back over, carrying something on his back. Damn, if just being near Meatlocker made a pony smell that bad, it had to be awful being anywhere close to him.

“Theres a small caravan coming down from Manhattan,” He said to Bit, “Not heavily guarded. Should be easy pickings.” Bit and Trashcan nodded in approval.

“And you,” He turned to me, “I got ya' somthin' to wear.”

* * *

I shifted around uneasily in my new barding as we followed the side of the trail north. It fit loosely on me and left my legs mostly unguarded, but the strips of stiffened leather and occasional piece of scrap metal promised more protection than I had ever really had. It was a little uncomfortable, but it didn't seem to slow me down any. It matched the rest of the groups barding, sort of. I hadn't really paid that much attention to it before, but I noticed now that Lily's barding had what looked like railroad spikes sticking out in pairs running down his spine. Bit's was different too, as it had metal rings stacked up end over end climbing up her legs. . . . . .

My eyes couldn't help but follow them up her hind legs to her plot whenever she passed me.

Pops always put me and Lily in the lead, though. Lily looked like he didn't mind being in front, but every now and again he would twitch and his eyes would darken. Trashcan was quick to jerk on his chain whenever that happened, but I didn't understand why. I know Lily was a cannibal and all, but he acted like he had more self-control than Trashcan.

Lily wasn't the one that downed three bottles of beer before we crossed the bridge out of Ponyville.

Lily stopped and sniffed the ground. Trashcan jerked his chain once, but Lily just sat down.

Trashcan rose up his fork thing, but Pops stopped him.

“We may not be alone,” Pops said quietly, looking around cautiously.

Pops and Trashcan levitated out shotguns from of their backs, as Bit lifted out her spear. Lily shook his head but the rest of them didn't put their weapons away.

Good Luna did I feel exposed. Not being on the main road, there was little in the way of cover, and the ground was uneven. The only thing breaking the barren monotony was what looked to be an old ancient rest stop.

Still, Pops motioned forward with his gun. Lily started forward, slowly. I tensed, following him carefully. Each step I put forward as soft as I could, as though there was a land mine under every pebble. For all I knew, there could have been.

A small pebble fell down from a gentle hill. Chains rattled as Lily sprang into action, dragging Trashcan down into the ground.

“Jump 'em!” A voice rang out from behind a boulder.

I could see two of them jump out from the sides of the boulder, but Lily was already on them. The earth pony didn't even have enough time to fire the pistol in his mouth before he hit him with his lowered shoulder, driving three of the rail road spikes into the poor fucker's neck.

“Brick!”

Fuck! Where?!

I jerked my head around. I didn't see any bricks, but there were five ponies running out from the dilapidated building, firing wildly.

I ducked my head forward and charged. Bullets panged off the ground next to me, lifting small lines of dust as the ricocheted off.

The echoing booms of Pops' shotgun echoed through the empty air, sending pellets spraying from behind me. None of them hit the ponies in front of me, but they slowed down at least, trying to return fire on him.

Nearing the pony in the lead, I sidestep a moment before leaping at him, under cutting a ragged sweep of his rough cut hatchet before slamming both of my forehooves into his neck. He crumpled down, sprawling into the dirt.

Before I could finish him off, a bullet lodged itself in the chunk of pre-war wagon tire that was duct-taped to my shoulder. I turned just in time to see the pony with the smoking revolver get hit with a gleaming, glowing spear. He collapsed onto his side as the spear stabbed into him again and again, widening the fresh ool of blood at his hooves.

“Brick, behind you!” Bit shouted, whipping her spear around.

Shit. I ducked, twisting sharply to see behind me. Who the hell was throwing all these bricks at me?!

Two unicorn mares charged me as they swung their clubs at me. I backed up and ducked under one of their swings, trying to keep on my feet through their assault, but they swung faster and faster. I lept over one broad arch, and dove under another swing behind me.

I sidestepped a heavy blow, making it plummet straight for the other mare. She flinched back, letting the nailed club strike the ground uselessly, but that left her open. Only for a moment, but that was long enough for me. I turned on my forehooves and bucked her hard in the face.

I couldn't see her, but the shock from the impact shuddered through my legs as an ear rending scream rent the air. Kicking blind was always dangerous, but it must have hit something important. The second mare looked at me in shock as I shoved off the ground at her, all four of my legs throwing all my weight at her.

She tumbled heavily onto the ground in front of me as the collision halted my charge, but she still swung the club at me. Nails scraped my stomach as I dodged back, leaving small scrapes over my ribs.

She yelled as she rose up from the ground, swinging wildly at me. I stepped to the side of a swing at the last moment, letting the weapon hit the ground before throwing all my weight on it, snapping it in two. Before I could act again, she lowered her head and charged with her horn.

I ducked, narrowly missing her horn, but her head still struck my shoulder. I planted my hooves as I slid backwards, trying to shove her off. She stopped and reared back, readying for another charge. Instead, I reared up on my back hooves and brought them down heavily on her neck as she came close, shoving her horn first down into the dirt. I raised my hooves again and brought them down on her back.

I was rewarded with the sound of a sickening snap, underneath me.

I looked up and saw the others finishing the fight. Lily shook, trying to get the mangled corpse of a pony off the spikes on his back. Trashcan was just now picking himself up from the ground. I couldn't help but laugh at that, though it probably sounded more like a strangled gasp.

Pops walked slowly towards the mare I had bucked earlier, blood now dripping down her mane and down her face. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up at Pops, almost pleadingly.

There was a jagged stump where her horn had been.

Pops hesitated for a moment before levitating his rugged shotgun down to point the barrel at her forehead. She whispered something to him. Her lips moved almost silently, but I could have sworn she mouthed the words, 'thank you.'

He fired, painting what was left of her head against the ground behind her. Turning away towards Trashcan, he inspected his gun as he walked.

* * *

“Nice job, Brick.”

I flinched as Bit patted her hoof on my shoulder.

Seriously, what was with all the bricks?

“Brick?” I asked. I would have elaborated, but saying anything at all stung my still raw throat.

“Yeah,” She smirked, “That's yer name, isn't it?”

Great. Brick. First my cutie mark, then my name. I was never going to get away from bricks, was I?

Have I mentioned I fucking hate bricks?

It was the first time anypony had called me anything other than 'kid', and it was better than 'fucker,' so who was I to really complain.

That was it; I was going to make a shit list. Number one; Bricks. Number two; Ponies trying to kill me. Number three; Ponies trying to kill me with bricks. . . . . I would put more on there later, but right then I was focused more on the radroach jerky I was trying to eat.

“Ah swear,” She said jokingly, “Sometimes Ah'd think Lily's more talkative 'an Brick.”

Pops laughed, “Dummer 'n a bag o' bricks, you could say.”

Well, I couldn't argue much with that, so I laughed along with them.

We had set up camp in the abandoned building by the side of the road. It was abandoned now, anyway. The ponies that had attacked us left the place mostly empty, except for a couple stained mattresses and empty inhalers.

The first thing I had done was to shift through them to find an unused one, but they were all empty. My headache was leaving and my eyes didn't burn anymore, but my mane still itched whenever I saw one of those blue inhalers. . . .

Most of the inside of the place was trashed or missing, and the shelves were lined with empty bottles; somepony's idea of a trophy wall, I guessed. The only thing left from before the war was part of a poster.

All that was left was the creepiest blue eye I had ever seen. I would have gone to take it down, but it looked like it was staring at me. It was almost as if it would have burned me or damned my soul or something if got too close.

I could get used to this, though. Not the building, I mean the group. Fighting was easy enough, and at the end of the day we had a warm fire and a hot meal. There was one thing that confused e though. . . .

“Hey Pops,” I rasped, “That unicorn back there. Before you shot her. She said something before you finished her.”

“Yeah,” He nodded his head. “Ya' took off her horn. I never seen one break so easy, but I have seen 'em break. It's not an easy thing for a pony to deal with. Hurts more'n pretty much anything else that could happen.”

And I had done that to another pony? I could see why he took her out.

“It was outta' mercy,” He said, his voice quiet, “I ain't any good pony, but I ain't one to leave a pony to bleed to death in that condition either.”

Pops started a fire in the middle of the room. The caravan was a day or two north of us, and we needed the rest, and we were all glad for the hot meal. Lily was a surprisingly good cook, though I do admit I was a little doubtful, and nervous, about the cannibal of the group being the one to cook the meals, but Bit assured me all the meat used was radroach.

Given the taste, I couldn't argue that point. Even Lily's culinary skills couldn't cover up that unique, sweaty, flavor that radroach had.

“I wonder where Trashcan went. . .” Pops looked around.

I had noticed he wasn't here around the fire like the rest of us, but I didn't much care. The guy was an asshole, and recently he smalled like fish and booze. And not even good booze; he smelled more like piss than anything.

Of course, Trashcan had to stumble in the door right then. I wasn't sure why, though. Most of that wall was gone anyway.

“Hey, Lily!” He slurred, waving his fork thing. It was a wonder he didn't hit himself with that that thing.

Lily ignored him, working over his own piece of radroach.

“Hey LILY!” He shouted, dragging Lily to the ground by his chain. Pops didn't do anything about ut, though, and Bit had already gone to sleep.

He pulled up Lily to his face, ignoring his short ragged pants. I knew how that felt. . . . he was being choked.

“You never do that again, ya' hear me?” He said in his ear, jerking him closer, “D'ya' HEAR ME?!”

Pops just sat there, and him choke Lily. Giffin's fisting dragons, he fucking strangled him for to make a point!

I couldn't handle it. The pain from just a few nights before burned at my throat. But I could breath. And I wasn't weak anymore.

He shoved Lily to the ground and yanked his chain back, striking him with the probes on the end of the fork.

“No!” I shouted lunging at Trashcan.

I heaved him up into the air on my shoulder and slammed him into the wall. I Spun him off the wall with my hoof and stood over his stunned, gasping form. I planted one forehoof on his side and pummeled the other into his jaw. He twisted under me, but he was smaller than I was.

His horn started to glow a strange orange color. . . .

I whipped my head to the side and snatched the weapon out of the air before he could strike me with it.

I clenched it in my teeth as I spun it around. I struck him with it, watching him writhe in pain beneath me. I remembered the pain that had gripped my back when he hit me with it, and he had done it for fun.

My glare hardened and I beat him again and again with the shock-stick. This asshole fucking deserved this.

I hesitated as he shook under me again, whimpering in fear. Tears welled up under his eyes, and a puddle of piss had collected under his hooves.

No.

He deserved worse.

I jammed the device roughly into him and clicked it into the 'on' position as I held it there. Sparks flew and he screamed in agony as I stood there to hold it on him. I didn't stop, holding it there until it ran out of power.

And he screamed. The screaming tore at my nerves, but he deserved this. His screams grew ragged and his shaking grew more violent, but the moment before the power faded, his shaking stopped and his eyes rolled back in his head.

His chest rose and fell sporadically; breathing in short, ragged pants. He was still alive. In pain, and barely conscious, but alive.

My own breaths came out hard, and my heart pounded at my ribs, but it was slowing down. I breathed in deeply as I backed up from the limp form of Trashcan. He looked as weak as he really was, and small. Like I had been. . . . .

“Are you alright?” I rasped, turning to Lily.

He nodded sharply, backing up from me. He looked afraid of me. I guess I would be too. My red coat and pitch black mane, with my ugly banded armor. . . . . .

And I had just nearly tortured a pony to death.

And before that I had ripped the horn off a unicorn.

Fuck. This all made my head hurt. I sat there, and looked up at the eye on the far wall. . . .

What was I turning into?

Click

I felt the cold barrel of a shotgun at the back of my neck.

Fuck.

Note: Welcome to level two!

Perk Gained:
Weathered (rank one)- The wasteland takes its toll, but you survive. You gain a plus 5 to survival, as well as +5 to radiation and poison resistance.

Skill Note:

Unarmed 40

Survival 40

Author's Note

All of my power to kkat for creating this awesome universe. As well as special thanks to Weegeekirby helping to edit this thing. Anybody reading, feedback would cool; I like to write, but it gets for me to stay on topic sometimes. It may be a while before I post any new chapters, with finals and Equestria LA coming up, but contact me if you'd be interested in shooting any ideas at me or help edit.

Chapter 2: Perspectives

Chapter Two: Perspectives

"Don't even think about waving the white flag, they'll only strangle you with it"

Chains.

I've heard a lot of ponies compare addiction to slavery. They like to call it the “chains of addiction” or some shit like that, but the truth is that you can't even really compare the two.

Don't get me wrong; addiction sucks. I only really had trouble with dash at that point, but it doesn't matter what your poison is, it really fucks you up. Dash builds ponies up, making them feel better and faster, so it doesn't hurt, while it eats away at the lining of your gums and throat, and pumps a ponies heart nearly to exploding.

And believe me, it really fucks with foals.

But if you get lucky, or more likely if you run out of dash, it stops trying to kill you. Sure, your throat might burn like balefire, and your heart might stop, but once that's over it's over. You can always restart a stopped heart, but you can't put one back together after exploding.

Slavery is much worse.

With addiction, you always have that feeling; that nagging that tells you to get more, but you can always say no; you can always stop before something in you pops. You may not feel like it, but you do have a choice. When somepony else slaps a chain around your neck and beats you down with an electrified stick, though, there's not a fucking thing you can do about it. Sure you could fight back, but the pony on the other end of that chain is just a flick away from strangling you to death, or a flinch away from shooting Discord knows how many volts through all your fucking nerves.

And that's if you're lucky. They could always just tie you up and forget about you. They could always just stick you in a hole somewhere and let you starve to death, and rot where they left you.

Click

I knew all of this when Pops clicked the cold, heavy steel collar in place around my neck, but I didn't resist. Maybe that's what I needed, somepony else holding the chains. Somepony that could keep me in line; somepony to be accountable to.

I've said before that Trashcan had no self-control, but how much better was I really? Maybe this was a good thing for me. If I couldn't keep myself from doing something stupid, then it was only a matter of time before some other asshole decided he didn't like the way I was acting, and decided to fuck with me the same way I did with Trashcan.

I had stopped before I killed him, but not because I wanted to. He was already off of Lily, he was already on the ground, but I didn't stop when I could have. I held that electric stick thing down on him until he was shaking and writhing underhoof in pain. . . . .

And I wasn't going to stop until he was dead. It was just luck that he was still alive. Luck that the stick ran out of charge.

Luck that I hadn't jammed the fucking thing down his throat after it did run out of charge.

I doubt if some other fucker got a hold of me I'd be so lucky.

Pops looked at me flatly, not speaking. It was almost as if he was asking for some sort of explanation as a way out, but I kept silent. It was probably safer for me to stay in chains.

I simply nodded, leaving the chains there.

Trashcan was a dick, and he definitely deserved what I had done to him, that didn't change what had happened. I had to start smartening up, or else I wouldn't last very long.

Thank whatever shithead was in charge of Equestria now that I had proven myself useful to Pops already. I'm sure if I hadn't I would have been killed right there on the spot; it's what I probably would have done.

He tied the length of chain attached to the stiff metal collar to a part of the decrepit wall as he levitated away his shotgun. He turned back across the store, scowling momentarily before returning to his mattress.

I laid down on the ancient cracked tiles where I was; away from the campfire and Trashcan's twitching form. The wind from the door was cold, but I had been cold before. I watched the wide blue eye in the poster watching me as I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

I woke up to the rough jerking of the chains connected to my collar.

That was it; new item on the shit list, right under bricks. Actually, I'm not entirely sure why chains weren't to begin with. It was a chain on the other end of the brick that hit me and used to try and strangle me afterwards. Just to learn how to write to make said list . . .

I tried to turn my head, but the stiff metal collar stood rigid. So I stood up instead, stretching out my sore legs. Broken pre-war tiles were a far cry from my usual bed of dirt and pebbles.

Thankfully it was Pops holding my chain. If it was Trashcan I would have been fucked. The guy wasn't exactly the nicest guy under good circumstances, I was sure being beaten and zapped half to death would not be good for his mood. Besides, I wasn't sure I could keep myself from killing him if he decided to take out his frustration on me.

Small wisps of smoke wavered above what was left of the fire, though the place was lit well enough through the missing section of wall, and most of the gear had been packed up already. There were plenty of empty cans and bottles strewn about, but the place was enough of a mess before we got here. Trashcan and Lily were already awake and scrounging the shelves for anything salvageable. Bit was still asleep on the stained mattress in the corner.

“Wake up,” Pops said flatly, flinging an empty can at Bit with his telekinesis. I was going to need to start waking up earlier if this was the general wake up call.

She flicked the can back at him, yawning as she stretched herself awake. She checked her spear and barding for a moment, but then stopped, staring dumbly at the iron leash around my neck.

“Pretty, in'it?” I rasped, tilting my head back to show it better.

“Shit,” She said turning to Pops, rubbing her eye with a hoof, “What'd I miss?”

Trashcan walked grabbed Lily's chain and started out the door. I was still confused why we weren't just going through that big hole in the wall, it was closer.

“Yeah, 'Can managed to piss him off,” Pops lifted his saddlebags up from next to the fire onto his back, “Long story short, Trashcan was being a dick, Brick was being a dumbass, we lost a good cattle prod, and now Brick's got some new jewelry.”

“Oh, by the way,” He tossed the chain to Bit, who caught it deftly with her magic, “Happy birthday.”

She nodded, yawing and motioning me towards the door with the end of the chain.

The chain pulled taught as I neared the door.

“If he does anything stupid,” Pops said, “Don't spare the spear.”

The chain slackened and I walked out the door.

Though the abandoned store was well lit, it was much brighter outside. Well, it seemed brighter at least, even behind all the cloud cover, so it took my eyes a few moments to adjust. It must have been the lack of dash. Not that I was shaking any more, or that it stung my eyes as bad as it had the day before, but I knew I would need a fix eventually. It had been four or five days without dash; not the longest I had been without dash, but I still felt a little shaky without it.

It just made things a lot easier.

The ground rose and fell in gentle hills, seemingly avoiding the battered and split asphalt road stretching into the north. The dirt and the scattered pebbles were only broken by the occasional dead brush or ruined wagon. What a wonder all this must have been, when all the grass was green. Just acres and acres of grassy hills. . . .

I guess ponies were assholes back then too, to have ruined all that. They were just assholes with more money, more weapons, and a world that they hadn't fucked up yet. Even Ponyville, just a speck on the western horizon now, was told in stories of being a beautiful a peaceful place to live. It’s ironic that the ones most responsible for screwing it up were born there.

The chain yanked at my neck, snapping me out of my thoughts. Probably a good thing; I was getting angry at ponies that were dead for hundreds of years. Bit led me to the front of the group, a few paces to the right of Lily. The chain pulled taut for a moment. That was probably the signal to start moving, so I started forward.

Lily mumbled something from beside me.

“Huh?” I asked hoarsely, trying not to cough over my own words.

“Thank. . . thank you,” He stammered quietly.

“What're friends for?” I joked smugly, but he still offered a weak smile. Well, that was great. I was chained up to a couple of raiders with a cannibal from the east, but at least the cannibal was my friend.

This was crazy. This was the wasteland

* * *

The hours whiled away as we diligently marched into the barren waste. Mostly barren, at least. It's amazing just how many shades of brown and gray you could see. Although there was the occasional sickly green found in the young tumbleweeds. The walk was more tiring than expected, though, as the small hills and dips did only so much to spare us from the buffeting sands that were picked up by the sporadic gusts of swirling wind. Lily mumbled something or other about weather patterns under his breath, but we kept our mouths shut; mostly to keep from breathing in dust.

My hooves were only a little sore, but it was more the chafing of the collar around my neck that was wearing me down. I kept my eyes in front, not wanting to be caught by surprise, but I could tell Bit was getting tired. Every now and again the chain would pull a little tighter and I would have to walk just a little bit slower.

It was only a matter of time before we were going to have to make camp. The sky had darkened a little since the morning, and it was getting colder. It didn't seem like we had trekked that far, but that was probably because of all the loose rocky soil and the uneven slopes. I understood that it was safer than traveling the road, but I would have traveled up the main road and hid in the shallow hills when trouble came by instead; it would have saved us a lot of time.

All this walking was making my legs sore, though, and my stomach panged a little in empty frustration.

The chain wrapped around Lily's neck pulled taught and pulled him to the ground, causing him to teeter forward momentarily before plowing face first into the ground. I looked back to see Trashcan sitting on his rump, digging through his floating saddlebags with his magic. He pulled out a chunk of radroach jerky triumphantly and popped it in his mouth.

We all slowed, giving me a much needed chance to stretch my sore limbs. Pops shot a disapproving glare towards Trashcan.

“Wumph?” He managed to say between mouthfuls of roach meat, “I waph hungy.”

Bit rolled her eyes as Pops scanned the surrounding hills for somewhere to set up camp.

“There,” He motioned with his horn, pointing at a small nook set between to short, rocky swells, “It's harder to see from the road, and it's less windy.”

My collar tugged me forward, and I started forward without hesitation. I didn't want to end up being choked again; that is not a fun experience. Besides, some shelter from the sand would have been a nice break. The wind noticeable calmer there, and the swirling pillars of sand only blew marginal puffs of dust and rocks into the depression.

Weather was always strange in the wasteland. Some days it was smoldering hot with air so heavy you could barely move, other days it would be so cold and windy it felt like icy claws were trying to rend your fur from your flesh. Of course it was pretty much guaranteed to be cloudy; the fucking pegasus saw to that.

I was never quite sure why, but then there were too many assholes out there for there to be logical reasons for all of them. Questioning their motives would get me nowhere.

The small nook was calmer, though, even if he ground there was rougher. We could just fit the five of us in the small space nestled between three dark boulders. Between the lower location and the jutted rocks, I could tell that it would be hard to notice any intruders come nightfall, especially with these winds. As long as we didn't keep a fire, though, it would be awful hard to find this little place.

Unfortunately, that meant that we would have to sleep out in the cold.

“This looks 'bout good,” Pops said, pulling out a roughly cut wool sheet from his bag and throwing it on the ground, “Eat what ya' can. No fire tonight. Tomorrow we get up early and try and catch 'em off guard.”

That sounded like a good enough plan for me. I wasn't sure how good of an idea it was for only the five of us to go after a caravan by ourselves, but since we were going to anyway, an ambush did seem like the best idea.

Bit pulled out some sort of meat on a stick and Pops sat down and nosed through a can of something under his blanket. Trashcan pulled out another chunk of radroach and chewed as he started to drift off to sleep. I swear, I had never seen a pony manage to snore and eat at the same time before. Of course, I had not eaten anything yet, and didn't have any pack of my own, so I just sat there and looked around dumbly.

“Hm,” Bit managed, gulping down her meal, “What about Brick?”

Pops looked me over for a moment before replying, “Just tie him to that rock over there.”

So much for eating today.

Before I could even move the end of my chain coiled into a knot around a small boulder behind me, locking two links together with a small padlock.

Well, things could be worse. Not much worse, granted, but they could be. I trotted over to my rock and leaned up against it, trying to get some rest through the growing grumbling noises emanating from my stomach.

* * *

My chains rattled loosely on the back of my neck, twitching me out of my light sleep. I squinted one eye open, but the darkness of the clouded night sky was all that I could see. It was still night. Fuck them if they thought I was going into a fight hungry and tired. This brick needed his beauty sleep.

My chains rattled again as a grinding noise grew beneath me. My eyes snapped open in sudden realization as the boulder I had rested my head on groaned and lurched over, dropping me solidly on the rocky surface underneath.

Rocks. They are great for throwing, good for walking, decent for sleeping, but not so much for landing on.

I rubbed the back of my head with my hoof, trying to blink out the bright lights flashing in front of my eyes. Hopefully the lump that fall left on the back of my head wouldn't get any bigger.

Between the blur and the darkness I could just barely make out the glint of Lily's sharpened grin reflecting in his yellowed eyes. How was it that he managed to keep his teeth whiter than his eyes?

“Stupid unicorns are lazy,” He half whispered, vanishing from view, “Should not attach chain to rock that can roll. . .”

Not questioning this run of good luck I rolled over and pressed myself up. I facehoofed. It was as simple as rolling the rock over. Huh. You know, I wasn't exactly the smartest of ponies normally, but there were times where I was just flat out stupid. Either that or blind.

“This way,” His head popped from over the ridge, “Popsicle forgets to feed me sometimes. Sometimes have to go get food for myself.”

I tread cautiously, taking time to make sure each step was on solid ground. There was no way I was going to fuck up a chance at getting away from these assholes. Maybe next time I would keep myself out of trouble, or at least try to stay out of situations that would definitely get me killed.

Lily, though, was not quite as subtle. His hooves scrambled once or twice as he scaled the rock's rugged surface, spraying me in the face with a bit of sand that had collected there. I spat out the sand, about to spit out some wasteland appropriate word, but could only roll my eyes at his apologetic glance.

Getting above the small depression, I could see the darkened world more clearly. Dull lights showed themselves in the distance in the direction we had been walking the night before. That had to be the caravan we had been hunting. They didn't look like too much, but I doubted that Lily and I could take them by ourselves. At the very least, they seemed to have somepony watching the road.

“Over here,” Lily whispered, twitching his head to the side, “I think . . . I think I can smell food.”

Hopefully that wouldn't mean other ponies.

He tilted his head to the side, raising his nose in the air. The pupils of his eyes shrunk smaller than they had been before as the whites of his eyes darkened into a yellow that nearly blended in with the night tinted soil of the gentle hills.

Before I could do anything, he lowered his head and sprinted off into the darkness at an eerily quiet canter. I broke off behind him, trying in vain to catch up. I nearly caught him as he suddenly stopped and raised his head to sniff the air. I sucked in the crisp night air, glad for the chance to catch my breath. . .

. . .when he sprang into another run, leaving me little time to react. Not thinking, I pounded my hooves against the loose rocky ground, trying to focus my now burning pants into some semblance of a regular rhythm. He dodged quickly to the side, and then to the other, leaping and diving, his body twisting at awkward angles as he sped through the darkness I struggled not to lose him as I followed his dark silhouette through the night.

He stopped suddenly again, but unable to stop myself I bowled into him. He stood firm and I face planted on the small of his back, just narrowly avoiding one of the rail spikes crudely jutting out from his barding. Rolling onto the ground, I lingered there in an effort to sooth my scorched lungs and burning throat, wheezing as I struggled to choke down air through my damaged throat.

Lily stood rigid still, as though if his life depended on him standing as still as a stone. For all I knew at the moment, it did.

“Is the little pony alright?” He whispered, not moving.

“Uhh,” I groaned between gasps, trying not to make too much noise, “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

I stood, quivering, as my muscles were still sore from smacking into Lily. For as gaunt as he looked, he was far more solid than any other pony I had known. He must have been all bone under that barding.

“Are those bloatsprites?” I rubbed the back of my head with a hoof. How was he able to see anything in this darkness? Not talking, he simply nodded as he inched closer. What I assumed was closer, at least. My eyes were still spinning from the impact.

Suddenly, he lept into the air, snatching a bloatsprite raggedly out of the air with his teeth. He growled as he shook it roughly from side to side, sending wet snapping and popping sounds out as it swelled up in his mouth.

An ominous buzzing filled the air as he slowed down to a standstill. I could see his eyes widen as they lightened back to their normal, only slightly yellowed state.

“I assume this isn't good.”

Lily nodded his head slowly looking guilty. Just barely through the darkness I could see eight of the warped and bloated creature’s silhouettes in the shadows.

“Fuck.”

In one smooth moment, Lily spat out the over inflated creature onto the ground as he spun into the air to snap his jaws at another one. Following his lead, I lept into the air and flashed my forehooves out towards the nearest one. I overestimated the distance, though, and my hoof swung high over the creature and sent me roughly to the ground behind it as it zipped by.

I looked up just in time to see three small thorns fly out of at me. I reacted as quickly as I could, but two of them struck a gap in my shoulder as I twisted away. For a second there, a strange buzzing feeling rushed to my head and blurred around behind my eyes, but it passed as I seemed to shake myself out right.

Spinning into action I leaned back, letting one of the creatures fly close in for a sting before I lashed out hard with a forehoof, smashing the creature hard into the ground with a spray of goupy green ichor. I flung it off my hoof as it started to swell like the other one did.

The one that I swung at earlier darted in at me from behind, bouncing off a loose piece of metal stitched into my barding. Not thinking, I spun around onto my forehooves and lashed out behind me with my back legs. The lack of resistance nearly sent me sprawling, but one of my hooves connected solidly and I was rewarded with the sickening squishing sound of a bloatsprite under my hoof.

I saw Lily crouch low under the flying stinger of one darting creature as another flew at him. Pressing himself nearly to the ground, he flung himself high into the air, twisting almost unnaturally as he caught one creature hard with his forehoof and another with his rear leg before landing nimbly on all fours. Another one of the creatures came at him, but he moved fluidly with his landing to spin in a smooth arc to catch it in his mouth, giving it a rough shake and spraying the area around with green fluid.

Holy shit. I needed to learn how to do that.

Of course, when I was watching that little display I hadn't noticed the bloatsprite that had been inching closer to me. It suddenly flew at the side of my head and lodged its stinger in my ear. I screamed as bouts of stabbing pain erupted through my head. I jerked my head from side to side, but the creature was stuck. I rolled onto the ground and scraped my hooves down through my mane and over my ear frantically trying to remove the creature. The creature caught on my hoof and was yanked gracelessly into the air, but it tore away the tip of my ear as it went, dripping a small stream of blood into my eye.

Not waiting to wipe the blood out of my eye or scratch the itching sore on the left side of my face, I rolled over and sprang up on all fours, searching for the creature. I popped up right in front of it, as it lingered just in front of my good eye. Almost mockingly, it gulped down the bloody corner of my ear.

Oh.

It.

Was.

ON.

I dove at it, swinging both my forehooves at it wildly, but it matched my pace as it buzzed backwards. In frustration I lunged at it with both hooves, but it flew up as I flung myself haphazardly at the empty air. I wrenched my leg to the side, spinning me as I plummeted towards the rocky ground. My rear hoof connected with the bloatsprite's stupid, ugly face the moment I collided with the ground.

I slid to a stop, thankful for my barding. I closed my eyes, letting myself catch my breath as I'm sure Lily dispatched the rest of the bloatsprites. At least the buzzing had stopped. For what seemed an eternity, I just lay there, letting the burning in the side of my face subside.

“Is the little pony alright?”

I opened my eyes to see Lily's yellowed eyes. The pupils weren't quite as small as they were before, so I guessed he was sane enough at the moment.

“Fucking bloatsprite,” I said hoarsely, closing my eyes again. “Fucking ate my ear.”

* * *

After about an hour, my face felt much better. Even the sting had shrunk and had stopped itching. According to Lily, most ponies fared poorly against the poison of a bloatsprite's sting, getting slowed down with each sting until they swarmed in and ate the pony alive. As far as I was concerned, it was just a damned nuisance. The little brawl hadn't left me with any real injury, just a missing section of ear and wounded pride.

I had learned one thing, though; how to cook bloatsprite. Bloatsprite poison was weak, but there was a lot of it jammed in there, and when they died it flooded their entire bloodstream, causing them to inflate. Lily showed me that this weird goupy mix of bloatsprite blood and poison was flammable. By dropping a single match in one of the small corpse’s mouth, he instantly roasted it.

Of course, cooking the creature like that wasn't the most flavorful way to prepare bloatsprite, but food was food, and I was hungry.

I popped a chunk in my mouth, working it over. I was surprised by the gratifying crunch that accompanied the stale flavor. Crunch. I popped another in my mouth. They may have tasted like grit, but it was almost fun to eat them. Hell, if they were salted and seasoned, they wouldn't even be half bad.

Lily looked up at the sky, which had changed from its pitch black hue to a lighter blue gray glow in the eastern sky.

“It's almost morning,” Lily said, looking back at me.

“Yeah?” I rasped between charred chunks of bloatsprite.

“Should get back to camp, now,” He said, standing up, “Can't leave them.”

What? I almost choked on the crispy morsel in my mouth.

“Are you fucking with me?” I nearly shouted. Not that I could actually shout.

“Those assholes dosed me up with dash, shoved me in a pit, and made me kill a little colt.” Not that I was much bigger at the time. “Fuck, Lily, they put both of us in chains.”

Lily went silent, shaking his head and staring at the ground.

“No,” He said, turning and walking back towards the camp. “I have to go back.”

At first, I didn't follow him. He was crazy. Why would anypony want to be chained up to a bunch of fuck-holes like them? But then Lily was always crazy, and he could handle himself. . . Fuck, could he handle himself? Could I handle myself? Dammit, I couldn't just leave well enough alone.

I stood and followed Lily back to the camp. The wind had died down, and the trip back seemed shorter. When we got down into the small depression, we made sure to fasten our chains back to where they had tied us up, though I did hesitate before he rolled the boulder over onto the loop still knotted in my chains.

Leaning back against the rock, I drifted back to sleep.

I needed my rest; I had a fight in the morning.

* * *

"Time to get up."

I could feel the pull of the chain on my collar loosen as they jangled, untying somewhere behind my rock. For as aggressive as she was on the battlefield, Bit was much less violent when she woke other ponies up. I stood up groggily, blinking my blurred eyes and taking the opportunity to stretch my bruised and sore limbs.

"Get your ass up, 'Can," Pops barked, shooting a small rock towards Trashcan's sleeping form with his telekinesis. The pebble missed, but the dust and flakes of stone that flaked off the short wall above Trashcan made his point, and prompted Trashcan to shoot up suddenly from his grungy sheets.

"I'm awake, I'm awake," Trashcan said, rubbing his eyes with a hoof. He wadded up his blanket and shoved it in his saddle pack. Almost as an afterthought, he stopped short at Lily's chain to jerk him awake by his chain.

Shit rolls downhill, I guess.

Most of the supplies had already been packed away, as Pops wanted the camp to be hard to notice, so it took very little time to put everything away. Before we set out, Pops levitated out cans of beans for us all. The centuries old metal would have been hard to manage, but it turned out that Bit's spear doubled as a can opener. Needless to say, the years had not been kind to these beans, which had turned to little more than tasteless brown and red goop. I had no idea what the red in it was, but judging by the harsh and stale flavor it was probably some sort of salt.

My chain tightened as Bit grasped it with her magic, motioning me over to the top of one of the hills we were nestled beneath. Getting up to the top, I was surprised to see a wagon crawling its way over the dilapidated highway. I immediately dove behind a nearby rock, accidentally pulling Bit face first into the side of the hill. Shit. I was going to pay for that later. Her dead weight pulled at me, telling me that she hadn't quite gotten back on her feet but I stayed behind the stone, not wanting to be found by the caravan. They must have woken up earlier than we had; these guys were well organized and in a hurry.

Pops crawled up next me, staying low himself.

"Good," He said in a soft whisper, "Good. They won't be expecting an assault from behind; at least while they're on the move."

He levitated out some sort of long barreled rifle from his saddlepacks. Good Luna, this thing was massive; altogether it was almost as long as I was. I never knew much about guns, but that thing had to be dangerous. Seven hells, it'd be deadly to hit somepony with it, let alone shoot them.

"Trashcan, Bit. Take Lily and Brick down there. When I fire the first shot, have them chase these fuckers down," He said, peering down a strange glass-tipped tube on top of the weapon.

Bit nodded in understanding, grunting as she picked herself up off the ground, pulling me around the side of the short hill.

"Wait," Trashcan faltered to a stop lower down on the slope, "How do we know Brick won't make a run for it?"

"We don't," He said, his tone low as he pulled back the handle protruding from the side of the gun, which sounded with an ominous click. "It's a good thing I brought my sniper."

* * *

Bit led us up around the side of the hill. We had hurried as fast as we could move without falling. As it was, we more slid than ran, which made it difficult to go unnoticed by the wagon. Luckily we made it down the slopes unscathed, for the most part; Trashcan had a pebble or something caught in his horseshoe.

Bit and I crept up behind a rocky outcrop near the side of the road, as Trashcan led Lily behind one further back. I crouched low as the dilapidated buggy passed, struggling over the road's various cracks and potholes with its wheels stripped of their rubber.

As far as I could tell, there were only two guards; each seated on the top with their rifles mounted atop the wagon's makeshift barricade. Whatever there was in the wagon had to be important or expensive, as far as I had seen before, merchants usually traveled light, often taking only one guard, maybe two if the area was dangerous. On better traveled roads they traveled in caravans together for protection, but since Ponyville was sacked, trade slowed down a lot. Not only where there two guards armored, but so where the ponies pulling the cart, who were likely armed themselves.

"Shit," Bit spat in a harsh whisper, "They got more firepower than we thought. . ."

She looked back towards where Lily was hiding.

"Trashcan!" She whisper shouted, "Trashcan! I got an idea. Throw me Lily's chain!"

There was no answer. She jerked and ducked low as a loud pop erupted from the passing wagon.

"Trashcan," She spat again, "Gimme' that damned chain or I'll fucking take it from you!"

The end of the chain flew over the edge of the rock, and soon became enveloped in her bright yellow magic field.

Three bullets erupted in a strange hiss from the roadside, ricocheting off the side of the rock. Well, so much for waiting for the signal. I lept over the cover and charged at the moving wagon, which jolted into action as soon as it saw me coming. I could hear the pounding of hooves behind me, and ducked to the side, lowering my head to make myself a harder target.

More gunfire sounded as Lily pulled up beside me. All of a sudden I felt my chain yank back and start into a pull. I looked back to see Bit posing behind us, her horn sparking with strain as she held onto both me and Lily's chains . . .

Bright green and yellow sparks flew out from beneath her hooves, leaving trails of smoldering asphalt and a spray of charred pebbles behind her. I snapped my head forward, setting my eyes on the wagon guards, whose eyes were wide with shock.

Blam!

A plume of blood splashed out from the chest of one of the guard ponies, shoving him clear off the side of the wagon, which shuddered as it barreled over his body. The other one snapped back into action and started to open fire.

I leaned into my sprint and redoubled my effort, slamming my hooves to pull us forward. Lily's tongue lagged out the side of his mouth as he crouched low and met my long stride. As we overtook the side of the wagon I lost sight of the second guard . . . but I could hear his scream rend the air as Bit's spear flashed past my shoulder.

My collar let up all of a suddenly, lurching me forward as the weight on my neck let up. Free of any weight I pounded my legs and rocketed up around the side of the wagon, whipping my mane behind me and filling my ears with a roaring gale.

As I came around the side a thundering BANG blinded me as a hot lance pierced my shoulder, sending spikes of pain shot through my side, but I kept running. One of the pony's pulling the wagon glared at me over a heavy revolver set in his mouth.

BANG BANG

Two more shots ripped by me, the shaking air leaving me nearly breathless, but neither shot hit their mark. A jolt shook the wagon, lifting the pulling-buck off his hooves for a moment, throwing off the next shot he had lined up. Not wasting any time, I pressed the advantage and flung myself at him.

I shoved off towards him as hard as I could, but my wounded shoulder gave out, sending me barreling into his legs. The wet and muffled crunching of bones filled my ears as he slammed into the other pony pulling the wagon. A solid blow landed on my face as I clung for my life to his harness.

My head slammed against the pavement for a moment, but then began to spin as I was looking up into the sky. Shocked and disoriented I let go, bouncing and rolling off onto the hard soil. I strained to press my legs up beneath me, favoring my right leg as it burned with the effort. The world spun around me and my dull temples as I searched around, looking for the wagon and the ponies trying to shoot me. How the hell did I manage to lose a wagon?

Wait, there it was. Just behind a boulder, the smoldering wreckage of the vehicle lifted the limp form of a pony into the air. I limped towards the wreckage to make sure all the guards were dead. I could have sworn there were two ponies pulling it . . .

A massive force hit me from behind, shoving me down onto the ground, scraping gravel against the side of my face. My eyes blurred a strange green and pulled my head back, yanking at my mane, and slammed me face first into the ground, numbing my already torn up cheek. My head lifted back again, but this time I rolled to the side, throwing the weight on my back beneath me.

A set of armored legs gripped me at my hips and another set wrapped around my throat, but they could not press through my collar. I lifted my left foreleg and brought my elbow down hard behind me. My blow was rewarded with the solid, meaty thump against my attacker's armor. I lifted my hoof high into the air and brought my elbow down again and again, each time trying to hit where I thought the kidneys would be.

Each blow was accompanied by a pained grunt, until the other pony's grip loosened around my neck. Not waiting a moment, I spun around on top of him and twisted him to the side with a single ragged movement. Pinning him on his side with one hoof, I aimed through the blood smeared in my eye, and brought down my hoof heavily on his neck, ending his life with a gut wrenching snap.

I pushed myself off the still warm body and rolled onto the ground, wheezing with exertion. My lungs burned with the effort, but it passed with a few deep breaths, unlike the wet, choking coughs of the unfortunate sentinel pony. I rolled back over and stood up to see Lily being led over by Bit. I turned back to the wreckage, and noticed that the harness lifted up into the air was empty now.

Drag marks gouged into the shallow sand led away from the crash to behind the wagon.

I limped over slowly, taking the time to wipe the gravel from the shallow cuts on my face with my wounded leg. The cold morning wind clawed at the open wounds, but it was probably better to clear them of any dirt.

Behind the wagon, the pony that had shot me pulled himself forward, dragging his limp and mutilated hind legs behind him. He turned and saw me, panic showing in his eyes, and scrambled to pull himself as fast as could. Unfortunately for him, that wasn't very fast. Coughing a ragged spurt into my hoof, I followed up to him easily, and circled around him to look him in the eyes.

He looked away, tears streaming down his eyes and cut face.

"Please," He begged through his sobbing, "Please don’t kill me. . . I. . I didn't mean to hurt you I . . . I."

Not even trying to keep up his pathetic lie, he laid his face into his hooves and sobbed quietly to himself. I couldn't help but understand, the wasteland was a harsh place, and nopony wanted to die. Just a few seconds ago, this buck had been well of for a pony; well armored and with a gun that seemed to be in good repair.

“Please . . “ He whimpered into his arm.

And who was I? A raider? No, not even that. Just a slave, doing the bidding of his master; doing what he needed to survive, regardless of the blood it would stain on his hooves.

"Brick!" I could hear Pops shout from behind me, "Brick, get your ass out here!"

I already had blood on my hooves in the name of survival, and today would be no different. I leaned in close and wrapped my hooves around the side of his head, jerking his head roughly to the side. His sobbing stopped as his head bent unnaturally upwards towards the sky, his blue eyes staring up towards the cloud smothered sky, empty, as his last breaths caught in his mangled neck.

Yes I was an addict and a slave, but this buck was free and look where it got him. I was better off.

I was alive.

Note: Welcome to level three!

Perk Gained: S.P.E.C.I.A.L.. Training: Through hard work and sweat and all that, you managed to get a permanent increase to AG. Congratulations!

Skill note: Unarmed: 50

Survival: 45

Author's Note

Special thanks to Kkat for the ever wonderful, Falout: Equstria. Thanks to Wegeekirby as well for the help. I'm trying to get more of this written, but Finals happened and it gets hard to find the time between Fo:E Murky Number Seven chapters

Which reminds me; Fuzzy, wherever you are, you're awesome.

Chapter 3: What Goes Around

“Do not throw the first arrow, which will return against you”

Killing.

It happens in the wasteland. Not only does it happen, but it happens all the time. It's just something that was always there, and as always going to be there. Ponies kill for drugs, for money, for food. . . Many of them do it just to survive, but most do it because they simply didn't know any other way. When it comes down to it, nothing will ever justify it.

The sick ones, though, do it for enjoyment. When I killed that merchant mare, I had hated myself for it. I felt sick, and empty, like a hollow corpse bleeding out in the desert. And when I killed in the Playpen, I new that I did it because I had to; it was the only way to survive. I justified it by telling myself; I did what I had to do.

But when I killed the caravan guard, did I really have to? I mean, I had to when I was chained up by Pops, but couldn't I have convinced Lily to go and ran away the night before? And the day before that, I didn't have to stay with Pops and the others.

The truth was that I didn't care. I'm not proud of the things I've done.. I've killed for drugs, I've killed for food, I've killed and killed and killed. . . And the worst part is, I've killed and liked it. It's hard to explain, when that hatred overcomes you, and all you want is the one you hate to die in the most sickening way possible. . .

It's easy to let it take you over, to just follow hatred to hatred, job to job. It's easy to just not think about what you've done and justify it, saying; they deserved it.

The hard truth of it, though, is that one day it'll all come back. Everything comes back eventually. Not just the killing, but the little stuff too. The things you wish you hadn't done, the things you wish you hadn't forgot, the things you wished you never understood.

The past will always be there, waiting for you; all the good, and all the bad.

Just remember this, kids; don't fuck it up.

* * *

I tried to move my numb limbs, but every time I did, they collapsed limply against the packed earth. I simply laid there and wheezed through my collar. It had taken some time, but the air no longer tore at my ragged throat.

I'm still not entirely sure why I decided to tackle the wagon. Well, the wagon driver, but then the rest of the cart had followed. Fuck, whoever designed those damned pre-war wagons needed to make them sturdier or something, if one pony could flip it. That damned spin out smacked my head hard against the asphalt. Somepony that could write needed to write the manufacturer or something. Too bad they're probably dead. Next thing on my shit list then.

My eyes snapped open as something smacked into my forehead. Dash? That's funny, I didn't remember finding any of that. Damn, my head hurt.

“Fuck, you must be more tired than I thought.” I could see Bit's hooves step out in front of me.

“Just dose me up,” I rasped, closing my eyes again, “I'll take all those other fuckers.”

“Heh heh. There's nopony else to kill,” She said, “But we need'ja on your hooves all the same.” I could feel the dash shoved into my mouth. I let my lips fall naturally around the familiar tasting plastic. I exhaled through my nose, and sucked in a deep breath just as I could hear the hiss of the cartridge emptying into my throat. The cool rush of the dash came instantly, flowing cold winds cascading through my tired limbs, bringing feeling back and shoving away the dull pain all in one fluid sweep.

Oh sweet, sweet Dash. I don't care if the fucked up sky was you fault, this shit named after you was amazing.

I opened my eyes again and stood up from the ground, almost bouncing with the force, shaking the distant reminder of the pain from the back of my head. I jerked my head around to see the wreckage of the wagon, which Lily and Pops were already searching through. There were a couple open boxes lying around, but the only stuff left in them was scrap and broken guns and things like that. Most of the food boxes and cans were already sticking out of the saddlebags. Hah, stupid weak ponies, needing to eat and shit.

Pops rummaged through the debris, intent on finding something while Trashcan gorged himself behind Lily's chain. . .

Trashcan. Thinking back, where was he in the fight? He hadn't done anything. Not one fucking thing.

I stomped off towards Trashcan, fuming. That dickhead didn't do shit. Somewhere in the back of my head, there was a part of me, calling out, screaming to take control. This was a bad idea, it screamed, shouting that, this would get me killed. It pulled me, but there was nothing to stop me. No way he could do anything about me. He was weak, and feeble, and thanks to a beautiful little inhaler, I was awesome.

“Ah shit,” Bit muttered behind me, “Pops!”

She followed behind me, but she didn't stop me. . .

I walked up to Trashcan and swung hard at his jaw. The impact shuddered down my shoulders, but the solid crack that popped from from his jaw as he flew to the ground told me it had been worse for him. I lingered for a moment, looking at the weak piss colored pony on the ground, nursing his jaw. It wouldn't matter, I was too fast for him.

“Fucking layabout fatass,” I muttered, “Stuffing your face while we put our asses on the line . . .”

You know, that gave me an idea. . . I picked one of the faded boxes of cereal he had at his hooves before he fell and tore it open with my teeth as I walked over to him. Pinning him under my weight, I shoved his thrashing form to the ground with a rugged punch. Holding his dislocated mouth open with my shoulder, I started to pour the ancient bran down his throat.

He started coughing, spitting half chewed flakes onto my face as his face snorted and writhed, fading blue.

“You still hungry, fatass?” I spat out, laughing out jagged, torn coughs of my own through my haggard throat, “Help yourself, it's on me.” My mouth cracked into a smirk; there was nothing he could do.

I shoved myself off of him, letting him stagger up momentarily, grasping at his neck as wet clumps of oat flew from his broken mouth. . . Then I slammed both my rear hooves into his neck, sending him flying back into a piece of rubble.

Bit laughed behind me pounding her hoof into the ground with elation. Damn, this felt good. My chest lifted as a broad grin grew across my face. I strutted slowly towards Trashcan, ready to strike him again.

Before I could do anything, though, the wooden stock of Pop's rifle flashed in front of me, slamming full force into my nose. I staggered back, lifting part way off the ground and scraping grooves into the gravel as I slid back several feet. Before I could turn and fight, the barrel of Pops' rifle aimed down between my eyes.

I thumped down on my rear, nursing my nose and testing out my jaw. Hehe, my snout kinda made a funny popping sound when I pushed it one one way or the other. Pop, pop, pop, SNAP! Damn, now that hurt.

“Dammit, Bit!” Pops shouted, not lowering the gun from my head, “If it takes a gun to keep him from fucking killing us, you're gonna' have to find a new pet!”

Pet? Was I a pet? If she kept giving me dash, I didn't care so much. Besides, she had nice flanks.

Pops walked over to Trashcan, who had just now fully stood up, “The fiend did have a point, though.”

I would have wondered what a fiend was if I wasn't so preoccupied with my own blood at the moment. I had never noticed before how after a few seconds it started to get all sticky, which made a mess on my hooves at the moment. I pawed at the floating rifle, wiping some of the crimson ichor on it.

Pops only shook his head, continuing towards Trashcan.

“You knew they were there, and you knew what we were doing, but you didn't seem to do anything,” He paused behind Trashcan, floating his own short barreled shotgun behind his head, “In fact, you haven't done much of anything. I would chain you up like Brick or Lily here, but you'd be less than useless.”

He leaned in close to Trashcan's ear, speaking softly, “Give me one good reason not to shoot you here on the spot.”

He gulped, shuddering where he stood, “Umm, uhh . . .”

Before he could finish what he was saying, the butt of the gun spun and slammed hard into the back of his head. With a flick of a knife, a surprisingly big one that I didn't know was even there, Trashcan's barding opened up at the back, and tore off of him, before stuffing itself into the saddlebags that he had left near where I was.

“I'd shoot you,” Pops said, “But it would be a waste of ammo. Bit, grab Lily and Brick, we've got all we need. Let's head back home.”

I felt the tug of my chain as Lily walked into place next to me.

“Oh, Trashcan,” Bit said, smiling mischievously, “Guess what's not a waste of ammo?”

Trashcan whimpered and dove to the side, trying to hide behind a piece of rubble, but a yellow glow circled Bit's spear as it lashed out regardless. With an almost sickening thud, the spear pierced the heavy debris, letting fly a shrill shriek.

I couldn't help but laugh. Good riddance.

* * *

Despite the heavy saddle pack put on my back, I couldn't help but feel like I had to move around. All this walking was making me jumpy. I needed to run. Walking back to Ponyville was admittedly faster, though. Surprisingly, there wasn't much in the wagon. Other than a bunch of chems, dash included, some cigarettes, and a bunch of mostly broken guns, there wasn't much. Unfortunately Bit got to carry the dash. I offered several times to carry them for her, but she simply laughed and insisted that she had to.

I did notice that Pops walked out with some sort of strange pre-war box though. I was sure it was something beyond what I could understand, having funny colored wires and stuff. It looked more like junk to me, but we had plenty of cigarettes to sell. It was probably important to somepony somewhere.

Getting nearer to the bridge, though, I could feel the dash start to wear off. Thankfully slowly, but I couldn't help but stumble a little bit as I was reminded again of the pain lingering behind my eyes. Just a little bit less awesome than dash.

“You alright?” lily whispered next to me.

“Yeah,” I rasped, grunting a little in pain, “Just got a little more fight from the asphalt than I would've liked.”

“Oi, you there!”

A light tug on the chain pulled me to a stop. Somepony had set up a ramshackle gate over the bridge. Ramshackle in the very sense of the word. Piles of junk and rebar had been piled into two heaps on either side of the bridge, adjoined by what looked like the undercarriage of a long wagon.

“To get inta' the town, ya gotsa' pay the toll,” Somepony bearing a grungy looking mohawk shouted down from the 'bridge.'

“What is this bullshit?” Pops shouted from the back, notably stinging my one and a half ears, “I been here four fucking times since this place was sacked, and haven't had to pay any toll.”

“New rules and all that,” The higher pitched pony shouted back down, “The Dragon's been looking to get more outta' his 'investiments'”

Muttering something about rough cut gems or something, Pops threw a carton of cigarettes up to the gate keeper. Well, there went one part of our plunder, if you could call it that. The pony on the barricade took a moment to examine it, before tossing it into a pile surrounded by chicken wire.

“One carton of cigarettes, non-perishable,” He muttered as he scribbled something onto a clipboard, “'Ere you go. No' so hard, was it? Welcome to Ponyville, and try not to kill anypony,” He waved us in halfheartedly, “it's a bitch to clean up.”

Just walking in I could tell things were different. While there were still those squiggles written all over the sides of the buildings, the corpses had all disappeared and most of the raiders wandered around one or two of the buildings, one of which wafted us with the pungent smell of alcohol as we walked by.

Pops walked about ahead of us, stopping short before levitating several objects out of our saddlebags into his and floating a small bag of caps over to Bit. And the chains unshackled around my neck.

Wait, what?

“Here, have fun. This next package should pay well enough. I'm gonna' see if I can't find a few extra sets of hooves, maybe some word of any new places we can hit. You should probably get Brick's head looked at before doing anything too crazy though.” I wonder if that was a comment on my intelligence or if my head really had that much blood. . .

“Oh, and Bit,” His eyes leveled with hers, “try and keep Brick from killing anypony.”

“Wait, what happened to being a pet?” I scratched my head. The past couple days were just a huge fucking mess, and I was having a hard time wrapping my head around any of it. I always thought chains meant slave. I guess things are hardly as definite as all that.

He only laughed, “Only if you push me. It was more just to keep you from killing Trashcan, but it was more trouble than he was worth. Turns out that you're more useful anyway.” Well, that was to be expected. This asshole was the one that did me the honor of introduce me to the Playpen.

“Just kill who I say, and you can have all the dash you want.” Now THAT was a deal I could live with. This guy was definitely not somepony to trust, and probably liable to screw me over at any moment, but every inhaler of dash was a beautiful blue box of respite from this fucked up world.

“So,” He asked, smirking, “We got a deal?”

“Sure thing, Pops,” I cracked a thin smile myself, extending a hoof for a shake. He shook it promptly before turning to leave.

* * *

“Hold still dammit!” The doctor pulled sharply at the back of my ear with his magic. With a sharp pang, my neck went stiff and jolted still, giving me a clear view of the wasteland sky. Apparently the toll had done some good for Ponyville, and a Doctor had set up a medical vendor. I wasn't sure how safe it was to be cutting ponies up outside, though.

“There,” He said gruffly, “Now I can fix you.”

“How the hell. . .” I managed to get out before getting telekinetically slapped across the face. I closed my mouth quickly, not wanting another hit behind the ear from him.

“You'd think you'd be less picky. I don't do this for free, and there's nopony else in town that's gonna' fix you up, so suck it up.” He shifted my head roughly, tilting it from one side to the other as he pered down his spectacles at me.

“Well, there's nothing I can do about the ear, but I can fix that concussion,” He said giving me stern look, “Goddesses know how you got a crack there, though. You get in a fight with a minotaur or something?”

“Asphalt.”

“Figures,” He said, turning to Bit, “ I got a spell that'll fix him up, it'll cost you 60 caps.”

Not bothering to argue with Dr. Bones, an appropriate name given how thin the aging pony was, Bit levitated out the fifty caps from the sack Pops had given her.

“Seriously, though,” I asked him, relaxing a bit now that he didn't have my head gripped with his magic, how did you do that?”

“Do what?” He asked, looking up from his counting.

“Get me to freeze like that,” I asked, my own voice as rough as his.

“Kid,” He said going back to counting his caps, “I used to be a doctor at Tenpony tower. I could dance a bullet out a skull without so much as a scalpel. It's just a matter of knowing pony physiology.”

“Fizzy-what now?” I scratched my head.

His face deadpanned as he stuffed the caps in his saddlebags. A book with a burnt and mangy covor landed at my hooves.

“It's what makes up a pony. Read this. Maybe you won't have to come by here again and I won't have to deal with you anymore. It's likely you'll just end up dead anyway.”

Cheerful guy. Granted, he was probably right. Still, I picked up the book in my teeth and placed it in my saddlebags. Not that I could read, but that didn't mean I didn't want to learn eventually. Knoing how to fix yourself would definitely be useful. Hopefully it had pictures. . .

“Now hold still,” He said as his horn glowed red and my neck locked up again, “This might hurt a little. . .”

* * *

“Okay, what did you call this again?” I sat staring dumbly at the tiny glass in front of me. The grungy yellowish liquid in front of me smelled incredibly strong, causing me to crumple my nose in discomfort. Not that the rest of this place smelled any better. If anything, the harsh, biting smell coming from the glass helped distract me from the overwhelming smell of piss in the bar. Technically that was the beer, but it all smells the same.

“It's tequila shot,” Bit said, watching the bartender pour her a glass as well, “The best way to waste caps yet.”

“Tequi-what now?” I rasped.

“Tequila,” She said with a smirk, “Just drink all in one go, like this.” She levitated up the glass and tilted it back, gulping it all down in one go. She shook her head, wincing, before slamming both the glass and her hooves down on the bar.

It didn't that look fun; and I had just gotten my head fixed.

I picked the edge of the glass up carefully before hesitantly leaning my head back as well. It sat on my tongue for a moment before searing into my mouth like some sort of acid. I tried to choke it down, but it caught dry and hot on my throat and shoved itself back up, hurling me forward to spit it back out. I slammed my hooves on the table as I tried to cough out the intense dry burning at the back of my tongue.

Holy fucking firewater!

I lay limp and wheezing over the bar, but Bit couldn't seem to contain her laughter, pounding her hooves on the table.

“C'mon,” She said, shoving another tiny, evil glass in front of me, “I told you, all in one go.”

I glared at the glass, intent on not making the same mistake as last time. I lifted it up and poured it strait down my throat. A hot stream poured down my sore throat and into my stomach as a strange, tingling feeling traveled up my spine. I couldn't help but shudder.

“Damn. That felt kinda' good.”

“That's the spirit,” She laughed, motioning towards the barkeeper, “This is gonna' be good.”

* * *

Time went kind of blurry after my third or fourth or so shot, as did my eyesight, and hearing, and I could barely feel my mouth anymore, but damned if I didn't stop there. My head felt like it was floating. Hell, I felt like I was floating, and I sure as hell didn't want to come down. How could something so tiny be so much fun?

Bit had been talking as we continued to drink, going on about her life before she became a raider. Apparently she wasn't born with a spear by her side.

“And THAT's how I earned this scar,” She said, motioning to the side of her cheek, where a small welt had formed up under her coat.

“Wait. . . wait” I motioned her to slow down with my hooves. Since when did they move so clumsy? “Just a moment ago you were talking about living in some cave.”

“Oh yeah,” She said, scratching her head after gulping down another shot, “It was less a cave and more a giant hole under a rock. We lived in smaller caves around this big tree in the middle. Great big ol' magic tree. Talked to us sometimes, but not as often as ma' said it used to. It was weird, but it was the only home I knew.”

Hold up, what?

“Okay, how drunk are you?” I asked, “A talking tree?”

“Yeah,” She laughed, “Grew out of an enchanted pool. That pool was dangerous shit, though. Once my friend Glowbright drank some. It gave her nightmares for weeks, and she started getting these visions. Completely nutty if you ask me.”

She shook her head around, as though she were trying to keep her balance, “Whether or not her stories were bullshit, though, that pool had some serious zebra level voodoo to it. Hell, I fell in by accident and passed out. Next thing I know, I'm pulling myself outta' that dumpster behind Sugar-cube corner.

“Fucking bad luck, that too. Less then an hour here and the whole place gets over run with raiders. Never seen a raider my whole life, and the first band I see is Dragon's clan.”

“Dragon's clan?”

She stared at me, wide-eyed and dumbfounded. “Are you kiddin' me?”

I shrugged, “I spent the better part of my life fucked up on dash. I'm lucky if I can remember how to talk.”

“They're only the meanest fucking raiders in the whole wasteland,” She said, waving forward another round of shots, “Hell, they're the ones that managed to kill nearly every fucking pony that lived here.”

We both lifted back our shots, slamming our forehooves onto the bar almost simultaneously.

“Anyway,” She said, shaking out her mane, “I think we should probably get going. Pops . . .”

“Why don't you stay a while,” A unicorn buck said, sitting her down again with his magic, smirking, “I'll buy you another round.”

He looked at me mockingly, “I can show you a better time than this no-horn.”

“Fuck off,” She said, trying to press herself up, but he easily shoved her back onto the stool. Apparently alcohol isn't too good for the magic.

“You got a problem with Earth Ponies?” I said, turning to look him in the eyes as he sat between me and Bit. He looked back at me, his hard, pale blue eyes promising pain and embarrassment. In my inebriated state, though, I didn't give a fuck.

“I. Could. Skin. You. Alive.” He said softly, daring me to make a move on him. The whole bar seemed to freeze, holding its breath to see what would happen. The silence was deafening.

Breaking his gaze, I leaned forward to grab the shot the Bartender had poured him to chug it down. That's right, let the liquid courage flow.

“You ever hear of Earth Pony magic?” I asked, winking at the bartender as I motioned for another shot. I had to steady myself before turning to shoot him a smirk. Damned, this was making me dizzy.

The bartender cocked an eyebrow at me as he filled the tiny glass for me. Probably since he was an Earth Pony too. Haha, yeah, I had no idea what I was doing, pal.

“Now look at this glass,” I said, motioning dramatically over the shot glass with a hoof, placing one hoof on the green buck's back. “Just a regular shot glass, right?”

I grasped it in my mouth and chugged it down, making sure to place it delicately down on the chipped bar table.

“And now, with a little of the 'magic potion' from within,” I said, leaning in close, “I'll make it . . . disappear.”

I stared at it intently as I leaned in close, willing it to disappear. He lowered his head down with me, confused as to what exactly was going on. My eyes crossed and burned as I focused in on it and. . . nothing happened. Okay maybe that didn't quite work out the way I had planned. Okay magic thinking juice, you got any answers? Well, there was always one way to make it disappear. . .

“It's still th .” He started to say, but was quickly cut off as I slammed the side of his face into the shot glass, shattering the glass and embedding the shards into the side of his face. I swept my hooves around roughly, shoving his unconscious and bloody form off the counter.

“Alakazam, motherfucker!” I wheeze-shouted out, waving both my hooves into the air.

The bar lit up, cheering and throwing their hooves into the air. I couldn't hear quite what was going on, but everypony was laughing and slapping me on the back, so I guess it was good.

“You think we can take a few more rounds?” A leaned over, asking Bit, as I scooted over to the now unconscious Unicorn's seat, throwing my own hoof over her shoulder. She nodded, grinning widely as her eyes sparkled mischievously.

“Gimme' three more bottles of your finest tequila,” I told the bartender, motioning my head to the buck on the floor, “Put it on his tab.”

Bit was right, this was good.

* * *

“Brick, wake up.” It was Pops. Where was he now? Damned he was loud.

I heard the creek of a door as a line of blinding hot light pierced through the darkness. My eyes burned with the brightness, which seemed not only to creep in through my eyelids, but past my shielding hooves as well.

“Go away,” I moaned, and turn off the sun on your way out.”

“C'mon kid,” He mumbled flinging something at me, “There's a bucket of water outside, soak your head, you'll feel better.”

Grudgingly, I pulled open my eyes, squinting against the harsh light peeking out through the half closed door. I glanced around the rook for a moment, trying to locate my mysteriously missing barding before standing up. Unfortunately, it was strewn about the dank room in random pieces. . . and the section of metal that was over my left flank the night before was in Bit's mouth, which was turned up in a satisfied smile.

Well, that explains what happened after the tequila.

Then it was just a matter of fixing the burning at the back of my eyes. What did he say to do? Dunk my head in the water. Okay, as simple as that then.

I pulled myself to my hooves slowly, trying to balance myself against how heavy my head felt. I shuffled towards the door, trying to ignore just how tired my back legs were. I closed my eyes in preparation as I leaned forward to nudge open the old wooden door.

The light flooded in and blinded me momentarily as I staggered forward to where I hoped that bucket of water was. Damn, this burned. I felt around as I stumbled towards the vague and fuzzy shape of a trough. Water, my hoof felt the cold morning water inside.

Not bothering to even hesitate, I closed my eyes and held my breath and plunged my head in. My mane felt heavy with water, and my neck felt as through it were pulling through mud. Bubbles of air escaped my mouth and stung my nose as I tried to wrench myself out. I staggered back as the world spun in front of me, sitting down hard as I gasped loudly to suck in air.

And then the wasteland decided to remind me of how bright it was out there. It took me about three or for more times to finally be able to see right, but thankfully there was only a moderate amount of stabbing pain at my temples left afterward.

“You have fun last night?” Lily asked from behind me. Unnecessarily loudly, if you ask me.

I nodded my head.

“Are you,” He said, leaning in closer to my head, “HAVING A HANGOVER!”

My eyes glazed over as my ears rang from the piercing volume of Lily's yelling. Grasping my ears I jumped backwards and rolled over, coating my wet fur with layers of dirt and dust.

“Lily I swear,” I threatened, pushing myself up. I jerked my head to each side, but I couldn't find him anywhere behind the soaked piece of my mane that had decided to fall over my left eye. I could, however, hear his laughter fade into the distance as he no doubt sped away from me.

I turned to get back into the room of whatever house it was that I woke up in, but something caught on my hoof, carrying one leg into the other and pulling me down chin first into the ground. I picked myself up and dusted myself off. Hopefully the rest of the day would go better than this.

Glancing down, though, I saw what I had tripped over; a set of four menacing looking horseshoes. Slightly larger than normal ones, these ones bore jagged and deadly iron spikes on the side. They were pitted and scratched with use, but no doubt they would still be dangerous in combat. Lily must have gotten them the day before. . .

I slipped them on quickly, before anypony else there decided they were theirs. They were a little heavier than I was used to, but there were a snug fit. I guess the morning wasn't so bad after all.

I strode back into the dilapidated room I had woken up in and started to collect pieces of my armor and place them back on. Most of it, anyway. By the end of it, it was all on, but not the same way it was on before. There were bite marks over parts that had to be switched around. By the end of it I managed to get the leather sleeves over each one of my legs, and I had gotten the metal plates belted back on, minus one above my right flank. The wagon tire still fit solidly above my left shoulder.

“Bit,” I nudged her gently with my nose, not wanting to accidentally stab her with my new horseshoes, “It's time to get up.”

“Ten more minutes,” She said, smiling as she rolled over on the mattress, clutching her spear close to her.

I rolled my eyes. She was going to need to wake up sooner if she didn't want Pops to leave her behind. I walked over to the window behind her, and bucked the flimsy plywood that had been nailed over it clean off. While the sky was still covered with those thick, gray clouds, the amount of light inside still changed dramatically, brightening the whole place up.

She rolled over and pushed herself up quickly, shielding her eyes.

“I'm up I'm up!”

* * *

Bit tugged on her armor with her magic as we walked towards where the fountain was in the center of town. It turned out neither of us knew where he was going to be, so we decided to go to the fountain. Well, she decided to go towards the fountain, probably because it was in the middle of the town and you could see almost everything from there.

Apparently Pops had the same idea, as he was wondering around the broken and empty fountain, craning his neck to look for us.

“There you are,” He said, wasting no time as he turned and motioned us to follow him, “I got some new hooves in. Those slavers near the tracks are lookin' for some help, 'cleaning house,' and I plan to help them.”

He led us out the gate again to where nine other raiders sat, waiting for us. There was one green one facing away from us, talking to a heavily scarred unicorn mare. One that scowled at me as we came closer. Nest to them sat three Earth ponies, apparently already drinking and passing around what looked like a hoofmade cigarette. Far to the right was lone unicorn with a very well kept rifle. . .

And then there was Lily, who at the time seemed to be playing with his chain. He hadn't gone without getting his own new toys either, as across his limbs more rail road spikes had been tied around him with leather straps.

Crossing in front of us, I saw Pops try to angle away that same package he had picked up in the wagon. I would have wondered what was inside, but then my head had started to hurt again. Hopefully I didn't break it with the tequila, or something I did after the tequila.

“C'mon boys,” Pops spoke loudly, to get the attention of everypony, “Let's be off. We don't want to miss all the fun.”

Everypony got up as they packed in their things, falling in line behind Pops. The green unicorn turned to follow as well. . .

And grimaced at me with his cut and bleeding side of his face. His familiar cold, blue eyes glowered at me.

“You!”

Wasn't this going to be fun.

Welcome to Level 3:

Perk gained: Drug Fiend- Nopony gets in between you and your dash! That or ANY substance you're addicted to. Any time you use a substance you are addicted to, you gain +5 to your damage threshold. Additionally, your withdrawals last half as long.

Note: You are now addicted to alcohol.

Author's Note

As always, thanks to Weegeekirby for editing this mess, though I'll probably still have to give him the password to my account and edit it anyway. There may or may not be Italics missing because I was too lazy to go through and put them all back in. Anyway, I was thinking about putting up an ask tumblr to this, but i'm not sure how all that even works, so it'd be cool if somepony interested that knew how to do that could teach me how to do that. Thanks for the read.