Fallout Equestria: Side Stories are Magic

"You can't kill me! I'm already dead tomorrow!"

At some time around second lunch I had blacked out and found myself somewhere near a train. Among the many things wrong with picture, the issue that preludes all others is that said train is cursing at me. Never have I been threatened with slavery from an oversized vibrator. Kinky. Aggravating, but kinky. Wait this sounds familiar: trains threatening slavery, a smell of detergent and alcohol, and a cloth over my muzzle. Yep, the diagnosis is Slavers.

One of the things I liked about Slavers was how courteous they were when it came to the bags. They always put some lovely smelling perfumes or something in. Smells like cinnamon, or at least what I assume is cinnamon. Its sweet and makes my balls itch.

“Where’d ya git thissun’?”

“Down by the Grotto Express.”

“He’s lookin’ kinda ‘Raider-y.”

“He wuz tryin’ to shag the coal intake when we found ‘im.”

So thats why my crotch is itchy. What a weird day today is. If I could see who my captors were, I would probably begin scratching for another reason.

“I want a bucket! With turnips!”

I can only assume they looked to me. I can tell because I can feel the Cradle Robbers’ glare tearing through the bag. The knife hole also helps.

“Where you from, Raider?”

Wow, diction, never thought Slavers could do that. Wait, that was a question, should probably answer it.

“Filly Land!”

Gotta love the look of an angered Slaver, its like when you punch a colt in the mouth and tell his mane smells. Its priceless! The only down side is that they kick you afterwords. It hurts.

“Where you from!?” he inquires with a harsher tone.

“I AM FROM THE LOLIPOP GUILD! NOW GIVE ME YOUR TEATS!” I retort thrusting my pelvis towards him.

“ I’LL KILL YOU!!” He declares before being hauled off by the other Slavers.

Well that easy. Normally I’d have start cracking the individual bones of cats to get sort of response. That or shooting the favored child. That always makes ‘em violent. One of them approaches me.

“Alright Raider, whats your name?”

“Pasty Cake!”

“Rrright Pasty Cake, where are you from?”

“The land from which the Twilight’s presence Sparkles with Putrescent Knowledge! Scorched are its lands, the homes weep with eternal scars! HAhahaha~!”

Mother always said I had a knack for the arts, it explains my cutiemark.

“Any idea what the hell he’s saying?”

“None what-so-ever. I’ll ask New Appleloosa if they’ve heard anything about a new Warband in the area.”

Theres a New Appleloosa? Since when? Well that’s a first. Man I need to get my radio fixed, I hate being kept out of the loop. Oh crap they’re talking again, initiating the pseudo-cognative nodding and shaking.

“… think Red Eye’ll want to see this guy?”

“Why?”

“Could be fun seeing him screamin’ and shit while the crowd takes pot-shots.”

“Ya know that would be funny… Why again aren’t we in Las Pegas?”

Just fuck each other already, sheesh. Note to self: Get a gryphon, get a cockatrice, and a goat. Make em give each other rim jobs.

Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumbass walked out of the room while continuing their cockmonglering of each other. It occurred only now that my captors had neglected to bind in chains, ropes, or even the trademark collar. Am I not pretty enough? Is it my breath?

Anyways I get up and find that not only are these slavers stupid, but possibly retarded as well. What kind of idiot leaves their captive in a wooden building with gasoline? Especially when theres a slight chance said captive is possibly, sorta, kinda, not really, maybe a little bit angry. Whatever, I’m a taking a can with me, the other one can burn for all I— PLAN B! I strap a can to my side, the other I plop a grenade into and ran like I was caught in a hay bail with the farmer’s daughter.

I read a book once about how there was a pony named ‘Celery’ or some dumb shit that had raised the sun, but forgot a small piece that fell down onto a portion of land now known as the Shattered Hoof Desert. Now clearly that pony was sucking down some hardcore Zebra ‘Medicine’ and was being a stingy dick about it. But we’re not here to discuss how ’You gotta Share, You gotta Care', no we’re here so I can form a proper metaphor for the totes-mcscrotes awesome inferno behind me that has caused every pony and his fondler to get into a panic.

“OVERSTIMULATION!!” I yell in an endorphine fueled ecstasy. The slavers mourn their lost supplies and slaves long enough to get caught slacking off by upper-management.

“What in The Goddess’ Name has happened here?!” The green alicorn bellows at her impudent lackeys. The seductive flames dance in the reflection of her eyes. Eyes like grapes, delicious. She looks to me and calls to her puppets.

“Soldiers of Red Eye! There be thine enemy! He who ceased your holy work!”She said as her eyes glow and in suit, so do the slavers. Fascinating, they turn and charge me, but still fascinating. “I want his head on a pike!”

The slavers move rather drunkenly. Its both entertaining and rather odd. See, their eyes are glowing some shade of blue and

the way they hold their guns is the same way a feral ghoul does. Funny and yet weird. But back to the attack, They open fire and I leap up onto the roof of a trading post behind me, their collective fire makes short work of the dirt and rubble from where I once stood. I bound across the rooftops, now while I have evaded the gunny-buns down there, I had neglected to remember that gryphons ALSO work as slavers. To be more precise, Talon Company Mercs that signed allegiance to Red Eye. And I hate Talon Company Mercs. The turkey-rats rain lead from above in sweeps to try and corral me onto a building I can only presume has been rigged to blow. I don’t really know if it is, but wouldn’t that be cool? Stay focused, I make a leap from the roof I’m on to the one in front of me. While midair, I turn and fire my SMG up at a gryphon making his sweep. He stops a few shots with his neck, a couple with his pelvis, and lets his wings take the rest. Add ‘see a gryphon turn into cherry pudding’ to the things I have done, should really make a scrapbook sometime.

There was one thing I did not count on when I got up here, running out of roofs to leap onto. Or rather a roof I could not get too. I had made the brilliant mistake of choosing single story buildings to make my escape on. At least the fall wouldn’t kill me, but the zombified grimaces screaming for my blood would. Now for what I did count on was for Ms.Thang over there seemed to forget that I am but one pony with a hook-ended knife. The last gryphon lands in front of me, my face reflecting in the visage of his metallic helmet. Need to get more sleep, those bags under my eyes make me look like a psycho or something.

“Have you decided to surrender, bandit?” The alicorn inquires.

“I want a hug! And some pretzels! But mostly...” I unsheathe my knife, kick the barrel of the shotgun in my face, and run behind the gryphon before hopping on his back cause him to buck and gallop. “I JUST WANNA FLY!”

The gryphon takes my exclamation to heart and lifts off. And then my knife finds its place just beneath his shoulder blades. They say that back before the wasteland, there were these devices that ran simulations that let users learn and hone skills, usually to achieve a task given to them by the simulator. Well today I run my first flight simulation. Using my blade’s grip as a control stick, I direct the gryphon where to go in glorious agony. We fly over the heads of the slavers below, and I undo the security latches on the gryphon’s grenade satchel with one of my own acting as a catalyst. The shockwave nearly knocks me off, good thing my knife is so well secured. However I believe the pain and exertion has cut my ride short and we plummet to the ground. Greenie has decided now would be a tactically genius time to try and escape by FLYING DIRECTLY AT ME. So I do what any individual would do, I pull out of homefried and leap onto the meanie green giant.

I miss by an inch, but my blade didn’t. She looked like Hearth’s Warming Virgin with the long bloody slit running down her back from where the hook sunk in, ripping down to the base of her tail. Is everyone seriously incapable of flying with blades and viscous wounds in their backs? Well both she and the second red mess can’t, but she had something he didn’t, a shield to absorb most of the impact. It still resulted in her legs being broken when she tried to brace herself. I just had my jaw dislocated and was quite thankful I was not born a unicorn. After reseting the bone, I walked over to the disabled alicorn. She tried to form a bubble around herself, and nearly did so. Fortunately, horns are rather frail and I had enough adrenaline running through my veins to lift a train car over my head.

“You whats the worst part about having extra bits?” I hissed at her. She shook her head. “They can always be BROKEN!” I snarled as I bucked her horn causing it to shatter. She sung a hymn of pain and suffering for my pleasure. But I didn’t stop there, oh no. I’ve heard wonderful things about eating pegasus wings, mostly how tough yet succulent the meat is. Well I’m feeling pretty hungry after that display. Knife up, blood out. The sound of the flesh ripping and bones being sawed was the coup d’ gracie to the symphony of pain she was in experience.

After I got her wings, I considered leaving. But that would be rude, she should at least have a face to remember when she gets to freaky-green-monster-hell. I go back and stare her in her eyes, but she was not alone in there. I could feel it. Dozens maybe a few hundred, staring back with hate through her eyes.

“You cannot stop us..” She said in a hoarse voice.

“Bitch I will be in your nightmares!"