Fallout Equestria: Side Stories are Magic

"Only the insane have strength enough to prosper. Only those who prosper may truly judge what is sane."

There are few things in the world that annoy me like undercooked food, not enough ammunition, too many guns on me, having to work with idiots, trespassers, Talon Company, Steel Rangers, and ponies who think that cause they’ve gotten lucky with a couple of other war bands think they can take me on. Okay, so theres A LOT of things that annoy me. But the one thing that pisses me off to no end is Stable Dwellers. Cushy prats who live in the lap of luxury and get their shafts polished for being so privileged. I guess thats why so many of us hate Stable Dwellers, and whenever they pop surface, ponies like me get to have so much fun making them realize just how many places they can bleed from. Its for the lulz, really.

So lets get this part started, I’m Running Water, a One-Pony Warband so far. Use a combat knife and a SMG, favor the knife though. Bit more personal. Anyways, I’ve been running around for… some unspecified amount of time, look all I know is that I’m alive, have a full belly, the roof is still over my head, and nobody has come to the Library in a good while. I wanna keep it that way. Its peaceful, quiet and since some maniac ran through here with a hard-on for bloodshed, no sharing of rations. Truly paradise. Only down is the retard and brat have escaped their cage. Makes things rather dull.

But hey, plenty of time to practice reading and to praise She Who Watches. Boring as fuck otherwise. Its actually been this way for a few weeks now. According to the radio, some mare with a gun has declared martial punishment on any pony who even so much as sneezes wrong. Guess that means I have to stop being a blight on ponies and not go on killing sprees. And I get head from Hellhounds with every tenth stamp on my ‘Good Samaritans’ Card! It will never cease to amaze me how much some still believe the old ways are ‘The Way.’ Bunch of suicidal nimrods.

Now for current events, there are what appear to be some heavily armed and armored scavengers in town. Would’ve popped a skull or two, but whoever swept through here took Top Hat’s Far-Away Poker. The dick. Well whoever Wingus, Dingus and Cunnilingus are, they’re dead.

I am so fortunate to live in such a graced urban environment. Most buildings are still intact, everything is burnt and ruined so my garb blends quite well, and sound is essentially canceled when all you wear is denim, leather, and some padding. Props to Terry Cloth for coming up with the tire-shoulder pads. Resistant to small-arms fire and lightweight, best of both worlds.

I lie crouched in rubble, they don’t seem to have noticed me. All I do is watch as the three meat puppets as they march through my town.

“You sure its safe to come through here, Loose?”

“Ja, ever zince zat Mare tore through here, zings haff been qvite cahlm.”

Is that guy retarded or something? He sounds like someone cut the tip off his tongue and cauterized the wound with a taser. Note to self: try that on next captives to prove point.

“Uh just what is it we’re looking for?”

“Anything on ze Minister Mare Twilight. If I remember korrectly, Frau Twilight had a library here in Ponyville. Zat is vhat ve are here for.”

Draw my knife and choose my target. The big one with the flamethrower, he’ll be easiest. I get close enough to see that he has a large gap in his armor right beneath the base of his skull. I ready blade to stab when one of them notices.

“GREASE! BEHIND YOU!”

“UNLEASH THE SOY SAUCE!” I cry.

I stab the blade up to the hilt. He barely had time to inhale to scream as he fell to the ground. His friends take and fire, I pull homeboy up and make use of the abortion poster-foal. His chunky torso made for an excellent meat shield against the friendly-fire.

When their clips ran dry, I tossed the lead bag at the lispy one and charged the other. He was so startled and so much bigger. Must’ve been under forty pounds of armor, yet he still screamed like a filly when I hooked my fore-hooves around his neck and let inertia pull far enough to see the vertebrae pop out of their sockets’. What a delicious crack.

Finally Fritz, or whatever the fuck his name was reloaded. He aimed the rusted shotgun at me, and we just stood there staring at each other.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Ju thought zat vould vork, didn’t ju?”

I looked to the left and nodded my head. This would’ve been over sooner, but I had neglected to retrieve my knife and I had dropped my SMG when I was crawling through the houses. My gear wasn’t bulletproof enough to stop shotgun fire and he caught me facing him. So unless I wanted buckshot rhinoplasty, had think.

“Do ju realize how much ju half kost me in caps?”

I shake my head, not that I care, but I still need time to come up with a plan. The two that I thought of, well, I’d need to induce The Quickening in Plan A; Plan B would require Zombie Wiener Dog Commandos and enough pepper sauce to fill a bathtub. Why oh Smiling Goddess was gifted with such brilliant mind and yet so incapable of rational thought?

“1,500! ZAT IS ENOUGH TO RESUPPLY, RENT A STUDIO, GET A HOT MEAL AND ENTERTAINMENT FOR ZE NIGHT! AND JU HAFF JUST PISSED IT AVAY VIS YOUR STUNT JUST NOW! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET MY DEPOSIT BACK, IF THESE TWO MERCS ARE DEAD!?”

There is only one answer that help my situation. I close my eyes and say...

“Let he who is without Cap, sink his putter in the company course.”

“Vhat?”

I leap at him, snap the firing mechanism in front of his face with my forehead and swipe at his neck with a hoof. He dodges and ripostes with a kick to abdomen, knocking the wind out of me. As I hit the ground, I couldn’t help but notice how a dead tree’s branches managed to make a cloud formation in the grey layer look as if it had turbines. Weird.

He rose his fore-hooves to bring them down for a crushing blow, but I pushed back and slid underneath him, unleashing a burst of kicks to his precious load. Top Hat used to joke how she turned a stallion into a mare with a single kick, it wasn’t until today had I heard a full grown stallion make noise similar to a fat mare imitating a cat with its tail in a meat grinder. This was a good day.

After looting and gathering my meals for the next few weeks, I decided that maybe this place was no longer the home it once was. It was missing something that not even all slaves in Old Appleloosa could fix. I needed a Warband. No! I needed friends. While it was a nice change from the normal malaise and savagery, I just couldn’t help but feel lonely without the others here to blabber about and have rancorous sex while I tried to figure out just who was controlling the Sprite-bots. I had got it narrowed to either The Melon Lord or the same punk who keeps leaving secret messages for me in my cereal. That pompous fucker.

And so it was decided that I had to leave my home in search of possible comrades who will bring me endless amounts of joy and happiness… Unless one of the bastards starts taking from my meat pile, in which case that fucker’s gonna be lynched quicker than the time it takes to crush a foal’s head with a power sledge.