Fallout Equestria: Side Stories are Magic

”Kind of a big deal..."

I had a dream that I was in a music band. We were playing some kind intense music that sound pretty damn awesome. Then I saw my dumbass playing a triangle while trying to look hardcore. I think my sub-conscience is punishing me for letting myself get sat upon by that lard-ass rent-a-cop. I just hope I still have control of myself when I come to. Nothing would be more embarrassing than to return to the world of the awake spouting nonsense about ballet dancing snake-monkeys while in the middle of being disemboweled.

“The tentacles… Get tHEM AWAY FROM ME!!” Atta’ boy, keep ‘em on their toes.

“Mornin’ sunshine. Got a few questions fer’ ya.” Oh right. Being disemboweled would be less degrading than this. Being chased down by psychotic children or being devoured by a flying herd of automobiles, all though more bizarre, would still be less embarrassing. I’d sooner wear a Pip-Buck. A new face walked in from behind me.

“See, a few of our boys went missing some time ago. And we got reason to believe you’re the reason why.” My fame precedes me. Just took a while I suppose. Now here comes my dilemma, act cognizant or play the fool? If I continue to react sanely, then I probably can get out of this fairly easily. If I go back to my old self, I risk losing all the progress I’ve made. Oh decisions, decisions.

“Oh I’d love to hear how you came to mag-fucking-nificent conclusion.” Hope my mouth is smarter than I am. Sanity is something I miss, so all I can do is pray I chose right.

The two exchange looks then step aside. I smell chemicals, flowery accents, and a distinct scent I could only describe as fresh baked cookies. Lo and behold, a pegasus. Stark-white with a deep blue mane, lasers on his flank if I could tell right. “Well, well,  so this is the filthy mongrel that killed my men. Just scavengers. Just simple ponies with simple jobs. Then you run off and burn a city down. Then finally you erase a hit squad before they make short work of your piddly-ass. I must admit, I’m impressed.”

I think I’m blushing. Terry Cloth used to commend me on my immaculate displays of violence. She said I had such a way with knives. She made me feel proud. This guy though, he makes it sound like I’m a demon in the sack. I feel dirty. How does he do that?

“But you know whats the kicker? Its just so out of nowhere. Its so unprovoked, like its a second nature. Tell me raider, how do you do it?”

“Uhh, I take my vitamins and eat my Wheaties?” That got a chuckle out of him. I hate his voice. It feels like theres a slimy tendril running up and down my back whenever he speaks. I want to tear out his tongue.

“Thats cute. A sense of wit on a barbarian, its so cute when it comes from something like you.” I have been once again, demoted from pony to ‘unspecified genus’ but this time from a ‘noble’ pegasus.

“Clearly the Glorious Master Race has officially ran out of things to shove up their ass, so they’ve come to me. I guess creativity dies when they let inbreeds run their world.” Aw, there goes that smile. Must’ve hit a nerve.

He pushes a flash-point to my temple. “Look here Scum, at any point of you being knocked out I could’ve killed you. I could’ve avenged the widows and now orphaned foals you've created. But I’m curious. I’m curious as to how a creature like you could’ve done so with such little effort.”

The words, they pour like caustic immolation from his orifice. “Look dude, I’m just now having an easy time formulating words in a coherent manner. I couldn’t really tell how I do what I do, aside from its something you learn from being out for so long.”

Not sure if that agitated him or made him realize how futile it was to information from an ex-maniac. Can I really call myself a maniac? I just did what came naturally when presented with an unnatural situation. Granted somethings I did were rather excessive, but one does not eat just one seasoned eyeball. Either way, what do I care those families are now a little less? They came into my territory with intent to plunder. I had every reason to kill them, same as anyone who I victimized. Only difference is that I’m a better shot and know how to dodge.

“Truly, you are a heartless beast. Not pony, but a monster.” Oh no, my feels. They are slightly more disgruntled.

“If those widows and orphans want me dead, then let them try. I’ll kill them all too.” I’d still give them a sporting chance. No fun if they don’t at least try to fight back. Something’s not right though. These guys are waiting. Either someone’s missing or they’re just stalling. I shift under my bindings, these aren’t very secure. I look around, Rust Bucket and that other dude seem fidgety. They keep looking to the clock. Whats the time have to do with me? A countdown to me ripping them apart or until someone arrives? Nothing’s stopping me from breaking free and killing them, so why haven’t I?

“Uh boss, the clock.”  The pegasus looks to the clock and gains an expression of one who just had their tail tweaked past the breaking point.

“Bad news Mr. Raider, I’m afraid you’ve just left our hooves.” Doors open behind me, two armored ponies with nasty hardware drag me out. Look like Steel Rangers, these guys won’t die easy. How exactly is it that I find myself in such ludicrous situations? I mean really, these guys come out of nowhere and decide to take me. Whats so important about me? Why do these big bastards want me? Why am I asking you?

My bindings are replaced with some choice shackles and I’m relieved of my gear. They throw me in the back of an APC with two guards. I think I understand why I would black out during trips. This is boring. It felt like time had slowed down to a quadriplegic lurch.

The guards continue to banter about their day or some shit. I’m more intrigued with the maze formed in the walls. Another couple hours and maybe I could move on to 3-D mazes. We come to a stop at some point, I can feel myself declining back into  radical mania as my mind goes into a flurry of slaughter and hemophilia. It would be rather counter productive to revert back to madness.

“Hey,” the guard ponies look to me, “Either you lads have a coin?” They look to each other and one of them pulls a coin out.

“Flip it.”

Coin up, coin down. What a marvelous parable the coin flip. Its a magnificent means of letting fate decide what your next move is. And now I have my answer, it is no longer a choice of ‘either/or’ but now a unity. A conglomeration of chaos and order, logic and imagination, madness and sanity. I shall become an avatar of the Wasteland. I couldn’t help but giggle with the new delicious schemes and methodologies forming in my mind.

We arrive at a military installation in the desert. I appear to be somewhere in the… Oh no. Nonononononononoo.. I’m in the midwest. My brother lives here. This explains why these guys picked me up. Why their armor looked so weird. Rather than bulky and lumbering, these Rangers were sleek and graceful. Their armor looked like a slightly heavier version of the Enclave's armor. I haven’t been this scared since my father started walking around the house with a shotgun. The two guards push me forward and I march to wherever it is they’re taking me. We go down hallway after hallway, everywhere I look I see various arcane technologies and ponies in weird garb. I want all of it. I want the technology. I want the weapons. I want the followers. Perhaps this what my father meant by ‘Manifest Destiny.’

They throw me into a cell. A energy field separates me from the outside, whatever. I lay down and begin to chuckle as I devise a means of generating a following. They click on the intercom, the speakers begin to play the radio. Pon-3 tells tales of the ‘Stable Dweller’ and she ‘cleanses the Wasteland’ of scum and evil ponies. He glorifies the killing of my fellow raiders and the freaky alicorns. Apparently New Appleloosa’s Guardian travels with her as well as a medic and an Eastern Steel Ranger. Supposedly a Zebra as well, but that would just be stupid. The way he makes her out to be, you’d assume she’s the messiah or something with all the ‘Lightbringer’ crap. New plan, get out of here and kill the Stable Dweller for all my fallen brethren.

I hear whimpering. Apparently I was not alone in this cell. A grey filly unicorn shares this prison with me. She’s crying, but this is such a joyous occasion.

“Hey little sister, why are you crying?” She looks to me with puffy eyes and a snotty muzzle.

“My parents are dead.” I am sensing a bad joke so I slap myself. I tear off part of my sleeve and give it to her. She can keep it.

“May I ask what happened?” The filly looks to left than the right.

“Somepony killed them. A Stable Dweller.” I raise an eyebrow, this gives me an idea.

“It wouldn’t happen to have been The Stable Dweller, would it?” Her eyes sparked, I know that glare. Thats the sort of glare I get when someone steals from my foodpile. “What if I were to tell you I too had a bone to pick with her?”

“*sniff* What she do to you?”

“She killed my brothers and sisters and much like your parents, she probably is getting revered for it.” Two guards deactivate the laser field and order me to rise. “Smile, I’ll be back.” I give my best attempt at a non deranged smile while looking back.

More hallways and I feel like my name should be something stupid like ‘Lightning’ or ‘Sazh’ at this point. Wait.. Nevermind. We approach a door with the trademark emblem, ‘Captain Hot Water’ is etched into the door. Oh this is going to hurt.